This is it...the final chapter. Well...

No rights to Supernatural.


Dean delivered Ruby's final messages somberly. Everyone's reactions were similar, a tight-jawed glance at the floor. There were no tears or hugs. It wasn't the custom of anyone in that room to react in such a manner. They got their messages, and they headed off to bed.

Jo was zonked out quickly once she hit the bed in the room she'd shared with Ruby just that morning. It'd been what one would call a long week. She'd been saved from death, and threatened with it multiple times; she'd made a friend of questionable species, then lost her before she even knew her last name; she'd lost a group of friends to murderous rage, and eventually requited that hatred back at them.

And she didn't know what she was supposed to do next. She'd been on the road with her mom for years. She'd done some solo hunting for a short time before then. She supposed it wouldn't be too difficult to snap back into that situation.

Who was she kidding? Of course it would be.

After all this time, after the week she'd had, she still hadn't dealt with her mom's death.

As a result, it haunted her dreams that night.

She didn't remember much about her dreams later. There was her mom, obviously, and blood, and fire, and guilt. It was horrible.

She was screaming in the dream, and as this nightmare thing goes, she ends up screaming in real life. She was made aware of the fact until her body was being shaken awake.

"Jo, hey, Jo!" she heard faintly, but distinctly, out of context with her dream.

Her eyes flew open. Her gaze was met with Dean's face, creased with worry.

". . . yes?" she said feebly.

Dean removed his hands from her shoulders. "You were going nuts."

"It's becoming kind of a regular thing," she said, pushing herself to a sitting position.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed. He folded his hands in his lap. "I was thinking about something," he said.

"Congratulations. I hope your brain keeps functioning at a steady rate."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Would you let me finish?"

"Your tone is all serious," she complained, not fighting off her fatigue just yet in hopes that the conversation would dissolve. "I'm not up for serious at the moment. I want to go to sleep."

"And then what?"

"Huh?"

"What happens tomorrow?" he asks, a small sense of urgency in his voice. "Your mom's dead. Where do you go?"

"Well, thanks for dancing around the paternal death subject like a decent human being." Jo pouted. He could've at least used the words passed on.

"We both know I don't need to sugarcoat things for you. Now what happens tomorrow?"

Jo slides a hand down her face, trying to wipe away the lethargy, seeing as she wasn't getting rid of Dean anytime soon. "I don't know. Can we cross that bridge when we come to it?"

"Isn't planning a head a decent practice?"

"You know, Dean, you really seem like you have an idea," she pointed out accusatively, " so why don't you tell me?"

Dean pursed his lips, not prepared to have the conversation turned on him. "I'd just like to know if you're going to pack up and head who-knows-where tomorrow. Or sneak off in the middle of the night."

Jo shrugs, giving her head a small shake. "I don't know. Why do you care?"

A crease forms between Dean's brows. "Gabriel's dead, Jo. I don't hate you anymore. Of course I care."

Had she really built up so many defense mechanisms in so little time? She hoped all of this sass was due to tiredness and she didn't always treat Dean this poorly.

"Sorry," she sighed. "Seriously, though. I don't know. I don't even have a car. We left my mom's in Carthage."

"Do you want Sam and I to drive you up there and—"

"No," she decided firmly. "No, I don't want to go back there."

Dean looked at her with disgusting sympathy. "You're going to have to deal with your mom's death at some point."

"I realize," Jo responded tightly. "It's a process. Give me time."

"This brings back the same issue," Dean said. "What are you going to do in the morning?"

"And it's the same answer: I don't know."

Dean rolled his eyes and let his head fall back, clearly frustrated, which Jo resented.

"Is it really that big of an issue, Dean?" Jo scowled.

"Yes!" Dean replied, throwing up his hands.

Her voice escalated. "Why? What does it matter to you?"

"Because Jo. I got you back!" he exclaimed.

Jo quieted, shrinking in on herself. "What? You've had me back for a while."

"No, I mean . . ." Dean trailed off. He rubbed at his chinned and gazed at something faraway, and then stood from the bed, not face her. When he turned back around, he held out his hands and launched into an explanation he felt he should give her.

"I thought you were dead, Jo," he reminds her, a breathiness in his voice she wasn't familiar with. "I came back to Bobby's all torn up about, burnt up a picture, and sat on the couch and didn't talk to anyone. I was upset and broken and then, about an hour later, I wasn't. I thought it was that whole healing process thing. Turns out, I hated you. When I opened Bobby's door and found you standing there, I handled it entirely the wrong way."

"It wasn't your—"

"Yeah, yeah, it wasn't my fault," Dean swatted the air, waving off the comment. "But still, I kiss you, mourn your death, and when you show up in front of me, I slam a door in your face. That was my opportunity to realize I've got a chance to do things right this time, to not let you get away, and what do I do?"

"Act like a massive buttface?" Jo finished for him.

"Yes, Jo, thank you," he gives her a tight smile. "Tonight, we take care of the hate problem. I get home, I'm lying in bed, and it hits me: I have you back. I have you back. Living and breathing. I haven't lost you. And even if I've treated you like dirt, even before this whole Odi mess, I couldn't just fall asleep knowing you could get up and tiptoe out of here any seconds.

"This is why I care so much," he continues, walking up to Jo and bending slightly, looming over her. "I let you out of my life. Twice, if you consider the times when you weren't dying, and I left you or I let you stomp off in another direction. When I do it again, I'd better be watching you walk away."

Jo wasn't fatigued anymore.

She was a little amused, because from some angles, it seemed like she had Dean a little hung up on her. Maybe she should pseudo-die more often.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth.

"Who says you have to?" she smirked.

Dean seemed taken aback. "What?"

Her next points might seem a bit problematic, but she had an idea for what might further her argument.

She kicked off the thin blankets covering her legs and launched herself into Dean's arms, throwing her arms around his neck. With the height difference, element of surprise, and speed of occurrence, one might think the kiss might've been misaimed and fallen prey to anticlimax. However, Jo aimed remarkably, mouth-on-mouth contact on the first attempt.

Dean met the gesture warmly, almost immediately resting his hands on her waste, his mouth parting slightly. A sound of spirited satisfaction came from Jo's throat.

It felt good.

Their bodies formed comfortably to each other, as if they'd done this a million times. They had had some practice, obviously, but this was like none of the others. Their first kiss had been tinged with regret and sorrow and abdominal pain, and while it was a vastly appreciated gesture, it hurt more than anything else. Their more recent tries had been nice and all, but had been stained with attempts to chip away contempt an doubt as to whether anything they were feeling was real.

But there was little doubt that this exchange was, and it comforted them both, pulling them deeper into this kiss. Dean entangled his hand and Jo's hair, angling Jo's head up to him in attempt to cope with his height. Jo slid her hands to his shoulders and down to his chest, her playful smile gone, but still enjoying the incident immensely.

Dean took some of the hair hanging in Jo's face's and held it back as they pulled away from each other.

Jo pointed finger at his chest, a smile on her lips. "You're going to stuff me in the trunk and we're going to hunt bad things and have rollicking good time and unnerve Sam, who I will become excellent friends with, with our moments of ridiculous PDA, you got it?"

Dean looked at her, tucking the hair behind her ears, a corner of her mouth twitching. "Jo, I—"

Jo cut him off with another kiss, making outstanding use of her tongue.

Dean pushed her off gently, "Oh, you manipulative little—," he began to accuse, but didn't end up letting himself finish and then picked up where she left off.

There was a window in Jo's room, which their spectator, at this point, decided it was rather creepy to be looking into.

Sam was obviously having his brain affected by all that hate he'd had put in him, and the anger he'd already had. When aiming to kill something, choice A is the heart, not the head.

After all, hadn't he watched Gabriel kill Ruby? That knife had gone into Ruby's back, sure, but had definitely found her heart, if not as cleanly as he would've liked.

Gabriel turned away from the window and stalked back towards the wood.

Ruby had figured out how to heal people, it seemed. In the nick of time, too. Now Dean and the pint-size blonde could live happily ever after, or at least live decently until the gory fate the probably awaited them both caught up with one of them.

Odi's fed off their makeshift chaos, but maybe, Gabriel decided, he should stop messing with Winchesters and their team of do-gooders. He'd lifted his influence once Sam had stabbed him, an effective faking of his own death, which he seemed to be doing a lot of when it came to that group. Perhaps he could find another poor, dying individual. Maybe he could stop the practice altogether! The chaos felt good to feed off of, but he wasn't sure he actually needed it. He wasn't entirely heartless. He was human after all. Maybe he'd give it up!

. . . Probably not.

Sure, let the surly one and the small girl have their happiness. That he could afford them. In fact, a part of him was a little happy for them.

But it was dumb to think he'd stop messing with the Winchesters now. He'd made such good use of it in the pass. It'd been quite fun, and they never mange to take him out so far.

Yeah, he'd probably be back for the Winchesters.

And their little blonde, too.

But maybe not anytime soon.


~End of Story~

Okay, I'm really bad at writing kissing scenes, okay? But that's probably one of the best ones I've ever done. No, you don't understand. I'm really, really bad at it.

Anyways, this one's done with, except for all the typos and various little issues I doubt I'll bother to fix. But if you just can't bear to part with me, I plan to upload chapter one of a new Dean/Jo fic shortly after I upload this. Hopefully, it'll by loads better than this one was.

Have a lovely day, sweethearts.