Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: Fifteen

~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean had chosen that particular ring for his phone, he’d never considered how annoying it could be after ten minutes. “It’ll go to voicemail,” he murmured, swirling his tongue along Jo’s bikini line. Her skin was so soft…. He wanted to rub his cheek against her belly and did, savoring every last second of this time with her. She was well worth the wait.

But the phone didn’t go to voicemail. It would stop ringing and start right up again. Who the hell was calling him over and over? Couldn’t they get the hint that he was busy?

Jo squirmed beneath him. “I think you’d better get that,” she told him, stretching out an arm and snagging his phone from the nightstand. She glanced at it before handing it to him. “It’s Sam.” She laid back against the pile of pillows, resuming her previous position.

With a put-upon sigh, he answered it. “What, Sam? What? What? I’m in the middle of something here.” He traced tiny circles on Jo’s thighs. Definitely in the middle….

“Um…Dean? What took you so long? You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. I found Ellen.”

He sat up. “You what? How?”

Jo sat up as well, running a hand along his chest and ribs. “What’s wrong,” she whispered.

“Actually, it was Gwen who found her. I just showed up to help like Gwen asked and here she is. It’s Ellen alright, but she’s…it’s like she has amnesia, Dean. Remember Gwen called awhile back about a case she was working? Guy with amnesia? Well, it wasn’t a guy, it was Ellen. Her long term memories from ‘09 back are blank. She can’t access them if they’re even there, but they must be because she’s been hunting with Gwen.”

“We’ll be there in a couple days.” He hung up, a grin forming as he looked at Jo. “I think Sam’s courting you, Jo, because he just got you a gift that makes mine look cheap and tacky.”

“What?”

“He found Ellen.”

Joy shone on her face and with it was a ton of anxiety. She moved onto her knees, hands resting on his chest. “In what condition?”

“Like she has amnesia.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “She’s hunting Jo. She’s hunting with Gwen. Has been for awhile.”

She moved, hurrying from the bed and moving towards the bathroom, tripping on the covers in her haste and nearly running headlong into the dresser. “I need a shower.”

“Slow down,” he cautioned her, getting up from the bed and following her. “Can’t see your mom if you split your skull open. Sam’s there with her. She’s not going anywhere.”

“I need to see her, Dean. I need to…. She’s alive!” She turned, grasping his arms. “Alive, as in really alive and it’s not a pipe dream. I have my mother back and I have to shower so we can leave and…I won’t make you fly…we can drive….” Jo released him and went into the bathroom, muttering to herself.

She didn’t understand. How did he tell her not to get her hopes up that Ellen would even know her? “Jo.” He stepped into the bathroom, reaching for her, stopping her nervous activity by taking her hands in his. “Come here.”

“We don’t have time --”

“She has amnesia.”

“She --” A puzzled expression crossed her face. “I know. You said.”

“Gwen talked to Sam a long while about it once without giving a hint she was talking about Ellen. She’s not in the same condition you were. There’s no indication that seeing you will make it all come back. Seeing you, looking at that picture book…it might not do a damn thing.”

“But there’s no indication it won’t not work. We won’t know until we try. Dean, I know I might not get her back back immediately, but as long as she’s there, alive and well, it’s a start. It’s something I can work with.”

“You’re prepared for that?”

She tugged her hands free from his, cupping his face, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks. “Sweetheart, I knew when I started looking for her that I might have a long hard road ahead of me. Finding her is only the start of that journey.”

He grasped her hips, drawing her closer. Maybe she did understand after all. “I’ll get you to her. Promise. Just…try not to crack your head open between now and then?”

“Take all the fun out of my day why don’t you?” She pulled away and started the shower.

Dean let her shower without him in with her, though he wanted to join her. It’d be better for his libido if she showered first and alone. To pass the time, he took out fresh clothes for himself and packed up as well as he could, leaving her things for Jo to pack. It’d give her something to do while he showered.

She was done in minutes, leaving the water on for him. It had amused him earlier to discover they liked their shower the same temperature.

By the time he emerged, she was sitting on the end of the bed, packed, and with her coat and shoes on. “You know, you can take ten minutes to dry your hair,” he told her.

“I braided it. It’ll dry on the drive. You’re not going to shave, are you?” She made it sound as though doing so was unreasonable.

He hadn’t planned on it. “Do you want me to?”

“Not if it’s going to take you more than a minute or two.”

“Then, no, I’m not shaving.” Dean dropped his towel and reached for his clothes.

“Good, let’s go.”

“Can I get dressed first, or would you prefer me to drive naked?”

She mulled over the question like it was a serious query. “I’d prefer you naked, but I suppose the authorities might frown on that. Besides,” her grin was lop-sided, “you might get frostbite on the naughty bits and that’d be a damn shame.” His own words tossed back at him.

“She’s not going anywhere, Jo.” He got dressed, not exactly taking his time, but not hurrying either. “Sam won’t let her. He’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I realize that, but the sooner we get there, the sooner I see her myself.”

Actually, she was being more patient than he’d thought she’d be. Within five minutes, he was dressed. Jo came to him, wrapping her arms around him. The kiss she pressed to his mouth was warm and she took a moment to do some groping that made him long for awhile longer on the bed with her.

Jo drew back, smiling. “Mmm. When we stop for the night….” Her glance promised a continuation of their morning’s activities.

“You don’t want to drive all the way through?”

“Want to, yes. Need to, yes. But you and I both know my mother, Dean. I’d rather be rested up to deal with her in whatever shape she’s in, capiche?” She patted his chest with a hand. “Now, let’s pack the car and leave Dodge.”

Jo had a point. Ellen could be a handful and with what they had to tell her about the two of them? Yeah, it would be best if they were well rested beforehand. Ellen had never wanted a hunter for Jo and that was exactly what had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

It took longer than Sam had hoped for Dean to answer the phone, Gwen joining him outside, waiting while he explained to Dean and hung up. “Dean’ll tell Jo. That’s her daughter.”

“Wait, Sam…. You know her? I mean, know her as in know her well?” Gwen’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“Dean and I both do. She and Jo are close friends. Well, they were. Are. It’s complicated to explain.”

Gwen put her hands on her hips and huffed out a breath. “You know I used to think nothing ever really exciting happened in this family. Everything was all neat. We hunted and that was it, but then you, Samuel, and Dean came along and suddenly everything I knew got tangled. Dead people were back to life as though they’d never died. I’ve seen Alpha creatures of all kinds and helped capture them. I worked with a soulless cousin who managed to get his soul back. I’ve unknowingly and knowingly worked for a demon and also met an angel. What isn’t complicated these days, Sam?”

He laughed. “Welcome to the Winchester side of my life, Gwen. Throw in being an angelic vessel for an archangel and you’ve got my every day life.”

She jerked her chin towards the door to the room. “So what’s her deal then?”

“You want the CliffsNotes version or something a little more fleshed out?”

“Fleshed out would be nice, since I never seem to get that from anyone.”

He nodded, able to sympathize with that. “Dean and I met Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo back when they were running Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Ellen’s husband -- Jo’s dad -- was a hunter before he died and the Roadhouse was a place where hunters frequently came through.”

“The name’s familiar, but I never went there. It burned down or something a few years ago, didn’t it?”

“Blew up, actually. Jo set out on her own to hunt, Ellen eventually caught up with her, and we all came together for a big job, thought we were going to shoot Lucifer with the Colt and have it all done quickly.” He put his hands in his pockets and turned his attention to the ground. “Ellen and Jo both died in ‘09. That’s when we went on that foolish job that got us nothing but two dead friends and a realization that Lucifer was one of five things the Colt won’t kill.”

“How did they die?” Her voice was hushed.

“A hellhound got Jo in the side and we were trapped. Jo came up with a plan, a good plan, and we…” He cleared his throat, not wanting to verbalize the rest. His throat felt thick, the words hard to get out. “Ellen chose to stay there. Jo’d lost the use of her legs and couldn’t move, but she knew what had to be done. They sacrificed themselves by letting the hellhounds in the store we were in and blowing it up while Dean and I escaped.”

“Wow. Heroes.”

Sam took a breath and blew it back out again. Even knowing Jo and Ellen were both alive again didn’t take away the pain of that day. It still affected him. “An angel brought them back to use them against us. He gave them planted memories to make them think we were human monsters. Another angel, who wants to start the Apocalypse back up, wanted to neutralize them by removing those memories and leaving them without knowledge of who they were. Wanted to anyway. Guess he already somewhat did with Ellen, though Castiel said the plan was to neutralize them and keep them from hunting. So why is Ellen hunting?”

Gwen shrugged. “More dead rising. You, Samuel --”

“I think technically they could count as the first, since Zachariah raised them not long after they died.”

“Swell. Where’s this Jo you mentioned?”

He glanced at his watch. “Probably in the Impala right now blaring the horn to get Dean to hurry up so they can get here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaning over, Jo laid on the horn again. “Ass in gear, Winchester!”

Dean leaned in through the open window and plucked her hand off the horn. “Do that one more time and I tie you up and toss you in the backseat.”

“We don’t have time for fun and games. Hurry up!”

“Can I at least do a final sweep of the room? Or are you in too much of a hurry to make sure we’ve got all of our guns?”

“Fine. Five minutes and then I drive away and leave your ass.”

“You don’t have the keys.”

“Wanna bet on that?” Jo held up Dean’s keychain. It’d been too easy to lift them from his pocket. “I was doing more than groping you romantically, sweetheart.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Leaning over further, she glanced towards the floor and mused, “I’ll have to adjust the seat….”

“Damn it,” he muttered and disappeared back into the room.

Jo sat back up, grinning. She wouldn’t actually do it, but it got him moving.

Her mother was alive and well! She wanted to suggest flying out there, but wanted Dean with her when she finally saw Ellen again. Jo wanted him and Sam both there, at least for the beginning of the memory journey they were going to go down. The fact that Sam had actually found her mother wasn’t going to feel real to Jo until she saw Ellen with her own eyes.

She’d told Dean that she knew it was going to be a long road, but Jo hoped it wouldn’t be. She hoped that Ellen would take one look at her, hold out her arms, and enfold her in a hug like they’d never been dead at all.

Dean got in and started the car. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah.”

In her lap, she held that photo album, looking through it as Dean drove, telling him stories about the pictures and things she remembered. By the time night came, he had a full history of the Harvelle family and Jo’s emotions were in turmoil. He held her while she cried and when the tears faded, he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world to exist for him.

It was what she needed right then.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen went to the window, peering outside at Sam and Gwen, thoughtful. She knew that boy. He was one of those hazy ghost images she got in her head when Gwen talked about her cousins. Apparently, he knew her well if the expression on his face was any indication: excitement barely held in check, like a little kid fixin’ to unwrap a gift. It seemed to her that someone had been looking for her. What else could that phone call be about?

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Who’d been trying to find her and was it a good or bad thing that she didn’t remember the person?

They returned inside and Ellen crossed her arms. “So? Who needed to know so urgently that I’m here?”

Sam and Gwen exchanged a glance before Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Ellen, but believe me, I’d like to.”

“Why on God’s green earth should I believe you? Who are you to me that you can ask me to trust you? You’re a hunter, boy. Hunters have got to earn my trust.”

Gwen stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Ellen, Sam told me who he called and a little about the situation. You want to trust him.”

“Trust is earned,” she repeated.

“He and Dean earned your trust a hundred times and more over the time you’ve known them.”

“Gwen, don’t,” Sam warned. “You could --”

“I’m not going to elaborate, Sam, but she needs to know something. Just…shush.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Trust me.”

With a sigh, he shook his head and took his coat off.

Ellen raised her brows. “You were sayin’?”

“Sam and Dean are like sons to you. You helped them out, hunted with them…. They’re like family to you.”

Transferring her gaze back to Sam, Ellen studied him. “He know why my memory is gone?”

“He does, but the person he called should be here when we talk about it just in case your memory comes rushing back. You’re going to want that person here. If you won’t trust Sam, and I fully understand why you wouldn’t at this point, will you trust me?”

She pursed her lips. Gwen had earned her trust these long weeks they’d been working together. Ellen trusted Gwen to have her back in sticky situations. Therefore, if Gwen said she could trust Sam, she could trust Sam. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait. How long until this mysterious person I’ve got to see gets here?”

“Couple days, tops.” Sam set his coat down on the end of the bed. “Especially with Dean driving. He’s just as eager to see you as J….” He broke off before saying the name.

“Yes, Sam?” Ellen uncrossed her arms, hands moving to her hips. “What was that?”

“This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Things usually are,” Ellen commented. “Well, if I’ve got a couple of days, then let’s talk about the job. We’ve got a paying gig, Sam, and I don’t mind splitting the rather generous fee three ways.”

They settled at a table, Ellen explaining the situation to him. “A friend of mine came across an object in her mother’s attic, a Pandora’s box if you will. It’s a pretty box, part of a local legend. Legend is that a foreign couple moved in, were accused of witchcraft, and hanged, then when their ghosts showed up, upset at being murdered, they were trapped in this box. It was added to the local historical museum. However, some drunken yahoo thought it’d be a good idea to prove it was all bunk and opened the box, releasing the ghosts. He lived long enough to be proven wrong. They’re rightfully pissed off after having been imprisoned and are murdering the descendants of the families that accused them. The reason we need muscle is that neither of us has any desire to end up in the hospital with back problems trying to move the stone slabs in place over the graves.”

“Backhoe,” Sam suggested.

“Sensible,” Ellen agreed, “if the graves were in a cemetery. They’re out on the back forty of the family acreage, surrounded by thicket and all sorts of problems getting to them.”

Gwen snickered. “You should have seen us, Sam, turning the air blue while crawling across a stream on a fallen tree, praying we wouldn’t fall and break something. I actually did fall once, lost my sunglasses out of my pocket into the water.”

“It’s going to be a bear getting tools back there to take care of this. The only good thing is that they’re only killing every five days instead of every day.”

“Nice to look on the bright side, Ellen.” Sam crossed his arms on the table top. “Basically, what you want me for is a pack mule and slave.”

“Basically,” they both agreed.

He laughed. “Well, I see why Gwen didn’t elaborate much on the phone. Are we sure they’re ghosts and not a type of demon?”

“Absolutely,” Gwen said.

“Then let’s go.”

While Ellen was determined not to really trust Sam yet, something about him just engendered trust and she found herself falling into an easy banter with him as they trudged across Sally Wainthright’s property. In the back of her mind was the thought that Dean was the smartass one, while Sam was quieter. Where that thought came from she wasn’t sure, though it did seem to support the assertion that she knew the two well.

“How did you meet Gwen,” he asked, hefting the bag of tools on his shoulder. “She never said. Hedged about the question more than anything.”

She glanced at Gwen, ahead of them on the path, hacking at underbrush and swearing just as imaginatively as she had the first time they’d come this way. It was odd. The brush looked like an even worse tangle than it had before, like they’d never come through here at all. “She stalked me, or thought she was. I knew she was there, unlike when I did the same to….” Ellen broke off, a memory pushing at her mind, hazy, indistinct, and so close to forming fully that she felt a burst of frustration when it refused to coalesce into something clear.

“To who?” He glanced at her.

“Hell if I know,” she admitted. “I followed someone and…he?…no….” Ellen took the hand Sam held out to help her step over a log. “She. She didn’t know I was there. Surprised her. It convinced her she wasn’t as observant as she’d thought she was.” That was right, wasn’t it? “Don’t ask me who it was. That’s all I got at present.”

“That happen often? Memories coming back in bits, I mean.”

“Happens now and then. I’ll get these ghost images in my mind or even whispers. Voices. One of those voices was yours, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yup. Funny. I hadn’t realized it until just now.”

“Hey Ellen,” came Gwen’s voice from around the bend in the path she’d made. “We’re here. Is it just me or are those slabs even bigger today than when we were out here the other day?”

She scrutinized them. Oddly enough, Gwen was right. They did look bigger. “Trick of the light?” At this point, it wouldn’t surprise Ellen if there really was some sort of witchcraft going on besides the initial bit that had imprisoned the two ghosts.

“Those are big slabs,” Sam agreed, setting down the bag of tools. “Maybe we should wait for Dean after all.”

Ellen patted Sam’s back with one hand. “You’re young. Give it a try. But…hurry if you can. Somehow,” she cast a glance at the eerily silent woods around them, “I don’t think we want to be out here after dark.”

Though her words could have indicated she wasn’t going to help, Ellen did help, getting right in there with Sam and Gwen in shifting the slabs and praying this went as smoothly as they all hoped it would.

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite having less numbers than he’d assumed, Raphael wasn’t making the fight an easy one. The angels remaining in his numbers were not as easy to kill as Uzziel had made it sound. They were having to fight hard for every small victory.

Castiel made Raphael his objective. He fought his way towards him, noting in a somewhat detached way that Raphael seemed gleeful to be dispatching brothers and sisters into death’s arms, grinning as he worked his way through the army.

It was disturbing.

The battle was a whirlwind of frenzied activity around him. At times it was difficult to distinguish friend from foe.

It took a surprisingly quick amount of time to cross the distance between Raphael and himself. To his right, he saw Uzziel deep in conflict with three soldiers and returned his full attention to Raphael. He was going to need it.

They danced about in the midst of the armies, Raphael gaining ground, then Castiel, back and forth. He didn’t have a clear shot, although in consolation, neither did Raphael. Castiel fought hard, pushing himself like he never had before. Now, it had to end, now. Here, today. He moved forward, arm swinging, sword clanging against Raphael’s sword.

In a heart-stopping second, that meeting of blades sent a jarring numbness through his fingers and Castiel’s sword was wrenched from his hand, dropping through the air to the ground out of reach. He fell hard to his knees. Triumph lit Raphael’s gaze.

No, he thought. Oh no….