Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: Fourteen

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo’s motel was a nicer place than Dean and Sam usually stayed at, but then she’d been staying here more than a few days. It was good to have a little more comfort when staying awhile. Dean thoroughly studied the place, checking it out, finding all of the nooks and crannies anyone could hide in, and when he’d checked it out completely, he headed for her room, turning the corner just in time to see her close the door and walk down the sidewalk towards the strip of restaurants.

He intended on calling out for her to wait up and didn’t, unsure of just what to say. With a glance at his watch, he frowned. It was a little early for dinner. Was she meeting someone? Going to work? She’d mentioned having gotten a real job to pass the time while taking a break from her search for Ellen.

He hated the thought that she might be going on a date; that another man might touch and kiss her. Jealous, possessive impulses sparked to life in his belly, along with a knot of dread. What if she was meeting someone and he’d misunderstood her completely? Stopping, he took a long cleansing breath and pushed that thought away.

You’re being stupid, he told himself. Jo’s not seeing another guy. She would have said it plain if she was.

While it was bitterly cold out, he waited to go inside, watching through the window until he saw her be seated. He went in to the bar, choosing a place where he could observe her if he craned his neck, and ordered a beer. She appeared to be alone after all, ordering and pulling out a book.

The satisfaction he felt in her sitting there alone was an almost primal zinging thrill inside him. Jo wasn’t meeting anyone. She was here, he was here, and as Sam had suggested, Dean didn’t plan on letting her go again. With a few words to one server, he procured her check and paid it. Dean considered all the sorts of things he could say to her, watching her food come, waiting for her to finish, and when he thought he had his words figured out, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo hated to spend Valentine’s day alone, but really, it was her own fault. She’d had the opportunity to invite Dean to visit her and hadn’t, so she supposed she’d have to suffer the holiday alone and bored. She watched a couple sappy romantic movies on tv before deciding to just go out, get some early dinner alone and ignore the couples that were bound to be everywhere.

She went to the restaurant down the road, a chain place that had a full bar. It wasn’t a surprise that she was able to get a table since she was alone. The surprise was that it was a full booth. There weren’t nearly as many people out as she’d thought there’d be. Maybe the cold was deterring them. Or more likely, it had inspired them all not to leave the house and to stay under covers.

That thought reminded her of the dance she and Dean had been engaged in for the past couple months. All the flirting, the openly suggestive comments…. She was dreaming about him more and more often at night, seriously erotic dreams that left her needing a cold shower when she woke up -- and even that didn’t cool her down some mornings. Maybe it was time to really push for that XXX rating, because while she liked the pursuit, the catching part was equally as fun. They’d spent enough time together now that she knew it wouldn’t be a one-night thing.

Jo made up her mind right then that she was going to let it happen. The next time they were alone, come hell or high water, they were going to have some quality mattress time together.

She dawdled over her meal, taking her time, reading the latest techno thriller by an author she wasn’t planning to ever buy again. The book bored her, but being surrounded by people was better than being alone in her motel room.

Her phone rang and she picked it up. Hmm. Dean. Jo was starting to wonder if he had some sort of psychic twinge that told him when she was thinking about him. She answered it, closing her book and setting it on the table without marking her page. “Yes?”

“What are you wearing?”

Jo’s brows rose at Dean’s gruff tone. Quite a greeting, that. Beat a plain ‘hi’ all to hell. It was simple, straight to the point. Propping a foot on the seat of the booth across from her, she swirled the last of her beer in the bottle, deciding to be flirtatious. “A g-string and a smile, cowboy.”

“Isn’t that a little awkward in public? Not to mention chilly? I mean, I applaud the bold fashion choice on your part, but is it wise? It’s nearing fifteen degrees and you could get frostbite on the naughty bits, which would be a damn shame.”

She sat up very straight, looking around the crowded restaurant. How did he know it was fifteen degrees here? Or that she was in public? “Dean?” He’d know if he was here. That meant he was here. Somewhere. Her heartbeat quickened.

“Yes?” His tone was silky, making her gut clench in pleasant spasms.

“Where are you?” The last she’d heard, he and Sam were several states away in pursuit of a case. Surely they hadn’t abandoned it so Dean could come here?

“At some cheesy chain restaurant looking for a topless girl wearing only a g-string and a smile. I’d think she’d draw more of a crowd.”

Standing to take a better look around, Jo finally spotted Dean at the bar. He raised his own beer and saluted her. She grinned. “Get your ass over here, Winchester.” She hung up, waiting for him to join her.

Dean smiled as he approached her and hugged her in greeting. Jo was liking this trend, and the way his hands lingered longer each time they met, until his hugs were like warm, comforting cocoons. She went into the embrace willingly, returning it with her body flush to his, her hands in his hair, and face against his neck. She could easily stay against him like this for hours, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, enjoying the strength of his arms about her.

All too soon, he released her.

“Where’s Sam,” she asked as they sat.

“He decided to take a job with Gwen.”

It took seconds to read between the lines. “Told you to get your ass over here, did he?”

He laughed. “That he did. Practically kicked me to get me moving. Topped off the Impala’s tank, tossed some money at me, all the while beaming like a proud daddy sending his boy off into the big wide world. I think if I hadn’t taken his bold hints he would have driven me here himself.”

It pleased her that Sam supported this relationship they had going. Sam’s approval of it meant a lot to her.

“How did you find me?”

“You think I don’t pay attention to where you are these days?”

“I meant that I was eating dinner here.”

“I have my secrets.”

“You followed me, didn’t you?”

“There’s that distinct possibility.” He took a drink of his beer.

Sliding her empty bottle across the table out of the way, she asked in a coy tone, “Why did you find me?”

“I wanted to.”

She had to smile at that, liking very much that he wanted to find her.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. I couldn’t let you sit alone. What kind of boyfriend would I be then?”

Her smile widened. They’d never said the words boyfriend or girlfriend before to describe what was between them and she felt almost giddy to hear him use that word.

“So I see that smile you mentioned.” His glance drifted down her and back up, a slight lecherous gleam in his eyes. “Where’s that g-string?”

“Where do you think it is?”

“Either on you or off?”

“It’s one of those.”

“What’ll it take to find out?” He crossed his arms on the table edge.

She copied his pose and quirked a brow. “You feelin’ lucky, Dean?”

“Are you?”

Jo laughed, mildly surprised when it came out almost as a giggle, and sat back. “Did you eat yet?”

“Yeah and I already took care of your check.”

“Did you now?”

“I did.” He tapped his bottle on the table a few times. “You want to get out of here? Go somewhere quiet?”

Could she be anything but honest? “Yes.” She wanted to be alone with him more than anything right now.

The walk back to her motel didn’t take long, but instead of going to her room, Dean led her to the Impala, even opening the door for her.

“So,” she began when he’d joined her and started the car, “where are we going?”

He glanced at her, looking strangely shy. Slowly, he reached down to the floor and brought up a wrapped box. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jo.”

He’d gotten her a present. Again. Jo took it and held it on her lap. It was surprisingly heavy.

“You going to open it, or stare at it?”

With a little nervous laugh, Jo tore the paper and slid her thumb under the edge to loosen the tape holding the box closed. What on earth would Dean consider appropriate for Valentine’s Day? She’d enjoyed his Christmas gift, so had no doubt really that she’d like whatever he’d gotten her. Still, knowing him, it could be anything. She spread open the flaps. “Oh, Dean,” she breathed. “And here I was expecting a box of useless slinky, tacky lingerie and chocolates with a brick tossed in to throw me off.” His thoughtfulness stunned her. “This….” She gestured. “This is so much better. I…. Thank you.”

He slid closer, arm along the seat behind her shoulders. “I’ll have you know I argued with Sam about this. He insisted boxes of bullets weren’t a romantic gift.”

“How so?” Jo ran her fingers over the boxes nestled inside the bigger box, her stomach doing tiny flips inside her. He’d bought her something she would have asked for if he’d inquired. A useful gift, unlike the useless other things men gave women this time of year. “They show a sweet concern that I not run out of ammo at the wrong moment and thus remain among the living. Between you and me,” she gestured, “and all things considering, that’s a damned romantic gift.”

“I know, right? I tried to tell him.”

“I think the only thing more romantic right now would be a new gun to go with them.”

Reaching down on the floor, he brought up a case. “Would the one Sam lifted from your apartment and forgot to return to you do?”

Jo held out her hands. “Oh, baby, come to mama!”

“I thought it might,” he said as she opened the case and looked over that gun.

“I’d wondered what happened to it when it wasn‘t in the apartment.”

“I cleaned it up for you. Those bullets are for it.”

She snapped the case closed and turned her head. Her lips parted and she leaned close, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He responded with enthusiasm, arm encircling her shoulders, a hand in her hair. Jo tried to set the gun and box of bullet boxes on the floor and found Dean helping her, shoving them out of the way. Their lips and tongues meshed together in passionate, abandoned kisses. Her mind whirled, the slow jabs of his tongue into her mouth an erotic motion that sent an aching pang of need careening through her body. She turned on the seat, moving onto her knees, Dean grasping her hips and hauling her astride him. His hands didn’t stop for long, reaching for first the zipper on her jacket, then the buttons on her shirt.

Cool air bathed her midsection and Jo drew back. “Whoa. Wait. We’re in the parking lot of my motel. Shouldn’t we just go in?” Her hands were trembling.

Dean blinked. “In would be so good right now,” he replied in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t referring to the room. He squeezed her hips, pressing up against her and groaning before saying, “Zip up. Let’s go.”

It seemed to take ages to reach the door to her room, even though Jo knew it was probably less than a minute. She closed the door behind them, Dean turning her to face him, pressing her to the panel. Jo snaked her arms about his neck, vaguely aware of him fumbling to put the chain on without breaking their continuing string of heated kisses.

Their jackets dropped to the floor. She worked the buttons on his shirt, then shoved it from his shoulders.

Drawing back a fraction, Dean helped her with it before tugging his t-shirt off. Throughout the process, his mouth never left hers for more than a few seconds.

She removed her own shirt, letting it fall next to his. His hands slid along her skin in a sensual caress. Dean’s lips left hers, trailing kisses to her neck. He pressed against her, a shuddering groan leaving him, breath hot on her skin.

“God, Jo….”

She grasped his belt loops.

His hands lowered, gripping her rear and raising her. Jo wrapped her legs around him and returned her arms about his neck. “Are you sure,” he asked. It was a loaded question. Was she sure she wanted to, that it was right, that…. She could see in his eyes that he needed an assurance from her, that he wasn’t going to push forward without one. The sweet concern there almost undid her composure completely.

She touched his cheek, drew her thumb slowly across his lower lip. “Take me to bed, Dean.”

She was ready for this, ready for him, and ready for the next step between them.

“I thought you’d never say ‘yes’,” he confessed.

It was all Jo had ever dreamed it could be and far more at the same time. This moment with him was right and perfect and she never wanted it to end.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’d honestly expected her to say no at the last second and the fact that she hadn’t enflamed him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more in the world than Jo Harvelle. This wasn’t only about sex. It was about realizing that he liked the man he was with her and wanted to be that man all the time; about knowing that if she hadn’t been brought back, something special would have been forever gone from his life.

Sam was right.

Jo was a helluva woman and Dean knew that wherever they went together, it’d never get in the way of him and Sam because Jo understood about it all. She knew what Sam meant to him and she liked Sam herself. They got along well. This, this, was something that could actually work and he was all the better for it. Joy sang inside him, traversing his veins.

His feelings for her welled up, but he wasn’t quite ready to say what he felt, so he showed her instead. Every kiss, every caress, every movement of his body against hers. He treasured her, enjoyed her, and did his best to show her that she was far more than a passing desire. No matter what happened, she’d always be more to him.

Dean needed Jo. On an emotional level and a physical level, he needed her with him.

That need felt good, one tiny bit of delight in life rekindling within him.

He felt almost like he was being born anew in slow stages, rising whole from the wreckage of his former life, shedding it like a useless shell. A phoenix.

~~~~~~~~~~

Uzziel was serious.

Castiel was having trouble wrapping his mind around that. After so many bitter crushing disappointments, he couldn’t quite believe he now had a full army behind him and a real shot at ending the war for good. He thought he might finally believe it after the fact.

“When Raphael gives the call, they’ll join him as he expects, dispersing themselves throughout the remains of his army and putting themselves in a position to take down his forces at your signal. I, however, will stand at your side. By now, he will have heard of my defection. Is that acceptable?”

He nodded. If Uzziel was playing him, it didn’t really matter if it was or not.

Uzziel smiled. “I’m getting the idea that you might not trust me, Castiel.”

“Whatever gave you that notion?”

He sighed. “I don’t blame you, actually. I’d be a mite suspicious were I you. But I don’t aim to betray you. I just want this done with minimal damage. We’ll do our best for you. Just say the word.”

They’d head out for battle soon. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation, and was glad he’d said his goodbye to Dean, because he could go to the battle ready for whatever would come.

Uzziel made a small motion at the waiting angels. “You should give them some encouraging words about now,” he prompted.

“I don’t give speeches, Uzziel.”

“You should. Troops like that. Gets them fired up for battle.”

“I’m not a leader,” Cas protested. “I’m not good with speeches.”

His mildly amused stare was strangely intense as well. Castiel was discomfited by it the same way he’d been when Lucifer had looked at him in that cemetery after he’d fireballed Michael. Uzziel was seeing a truth inside him that he didn’t want to admit to himself -- that God had chosen him of all angels to attempt to restore order because, like it or not, beneath it all he was a leader. It was a heavy responsibility he didn’t truly want, made worse by Raphael’s war. That stare made Cas wonder if this was how his own stare had made Dean feel. He imagined, no he knew it was.

“Do you truly not see it,” Uzziel mused softly. “You’re a trailblazer, Castiel. Over time, we’ve become stagnant, mired in our own bitterness, jealousies, and old ways, a thing that Raphael embodies quite clearly. You, however, have changed things up. You’ve shown us there is hope of a return to glory and peace. We don’t have to continue to be what we’ve become.” He shook his head. “In truth, the best leaders are usually those with no desire for the job.” With one hand, he made another motion at the angels. “Now go give them some encouraging words.”

Obviously, Uzziel didn’t understand that Castiel lacked the cheerful, bloodthirsty enthusiasm needed to get the troops fired up at present. With reluctance, he decided to give it a try -- since Uzziel seemed to expect a good effort at it. Turning to the waiting angels, he cleared his throat. “We go to battle today, probably to die. Fight well.”

There was a silence then that he realized was puzzled. Eyes turned to Uzziel, who leaned over. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

“No.”

“You really are bad at speeches.” A hand gripped Castiel’s shoulder. “We win this, we get you a speechwriter.”

“That could be wise,” he conceded with a wince, though he wondered why he’d need one if they won. Why would he have to give speeches?

Uzziel faced the army, raising one arm high. “To hope,” he shouted.

“Is this absolutely necessary,” he muttered.

“Trust me,” Uzziel told him as the angels began to use that as their rallying cry, voices lifting loud and high into the air. “A little encouragement goes a long way. Be good to your soldiers --”

“And they’ll be good to you,” he finished. Feeling a bit awkward and stupid, he raised one arm the same way Uzziel was. “To hope.”

A trumpet sounded then, an invitation from Raphael to come if they were brave enough.

A call to battle.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke with a jerk, thinking he’d heard something outside. Not a car horn or intruder trying to break in, but something…different. Deep and ominous. He listened carefully, but whatever it had been didn’t come again and he stretched. Maybe he’d been dreaming that noise.

As he turned over, a pleased smile curved his lips.

He was more relaxed than he’d been in a very long time. Waking up beside Jo was definitely an experience Dean wanted more of. He enjoyed opening his eyes and seeing her there, her features relaxed in sleep, hair fanned out on the pillow. There was a sereneness about it that calmed him and he decided he could lie there for hours simply watching her.

Stretching out a hand, he traced her features with a gentle touch -- the curve of her jaw, her lips, the slope of her nose -- then brushed her hair from her brow. It was a bit tangled, a sexy mussed look she did well.

Jo stirred, frowning, opening her eyes. He drew his hand back. She stretched, back arching, the covers sliding down. When she was done, she turned her head on the pillow. Her slow smile was both sleepy and satisfied. “Mmmm. Morning.”

He let his gaze drift down her and back up, pausing on the creamy expanse of bare skin revealed by the bunched covers. She did that whole naked thing very well. “Looks to be a good one so far.”

Rolling onto her side, she moved closer, hand sliding down his chest and lower, gaze mischievous. “How about we make it a great morning?”

“I aim to please.”

It was mid-morning when they finally emerged from Jo’s room to get breakfast, walking fast together in the frigid morning air. This area was having a record February cold snap, colder than it had been in a century.

So much for global warming, he thought, reaching for Jo’s hand.

Fingers linked together, they made their way to the family restaurant a couple streets over. It wasn’t busy and soon their order was put in, cups of coffee before them. They sat on the same side of the table, Jo snug against his side. Dean knew he was grinning like a fool and didn’t particularly care.

“What’s Gwen working on,” Jo asked, stirring her coffee with a spoon.

“No idea. Something she wanted us in on, though.”

“And you came here instead.”

“It was Valentine’s Day,” he told her in way of explanation.

Her hand dropped to his thigh. “I’m glad you did.” She settled back in the booth, leaning her head back against his arm.

“I am, too.” They talked while waiting for their food, making plans for the day. He figured he had several days before Sam called to say he was done and heading back his way. Several days should be enough time for them to figure out how they were going to work this new development into something regular.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had a good feeling about Dean and Jo’s get-together. At the rate the two had been going, how could it be anything but a fun time for both of them? He didn’t rush in his drive across to Massachusetts, mainly because Gwen’s request hadn’t evoked a sense of urgency. If she’d needed him there within hours, she would have said so. He took time to eat regular meals and rest. He thought that maybe some day he’d be back to his old habits completely, able to sleep a full night and eat a full meal, but for now, he took what he could get.

He had some trouble finding the motel Gwen and her partner were staying it. It was somewhat off the beaten path. Not a bad place, he decided with a glance, and knocked on the door.

Gwen opened it and let him in.

He was unprepared for who he found when he walked into that motel room.

Ellen Harvelle.

Sam stood still, staring, trying to find the words to say to the woman who’d sometimes behaved like a mother to him and Dean. Relief swept over him, followed quickly by pleasure in seeing her alive. She looked good. A little older of course, but fit and well.

While he’d been staring at her, she’d been doing the same to him. Ellen got up from her chair and approached him, the tiniest of frowns pulling her brows down. “Do I know you?”

He ended up laughing and laughing harder at the perplexed looks Gwen and Ellen gave him. When he’d finished, and wiped the tears from his eyes, he shook his head. “Oh, Ellen. You have no idea.” Sam wanted to enfold her in a hug, yet knew he shouldn’t until she knew who he was. She might react badly to affection from a man she didn’t seem to know.

“Enlighten us, Sam,” Gwen suggested, crossing her arms.

“Ellen, do you have any idea who I am?”

She shook her head. “Not a clue, sweetie. You want to tell me?”

“What do you remember? Anything?”

Her sigh was long and mildly annoyed, as though she’d answered that question too many times already.

It was Gwen who answered. “The amnesiac I mentioned awhile back? I was referring to Ellen.”

“You called him about me,” Ellen asked, though she didn’t appear upset by the prospect.

Gwen shrugged. “I tossed a scenario out there to see if Sam had any ideas. He and Dean have come up against more weird shit than anyone I know. I thought they might have an idea what might have done that to you.”

He motioned to the door. “I need to make a phone call real quick.” Stepping outside, he dialed Dean’s number. Things would have been much simpler if he, Dean, and Jo had arranged a get-together with Gwen and her hunting partner weeks ago.

He couldn’t wait to hear Dean’s reaction.