Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: 22

~~~~~~~~~~~

After getting Gwen settled, Ellen drove Bobby to the airport, leaving Sam to cater to Gwen’s needs. When they left, Sam was lying on the floor drawing a protection symbol on her cast. It was different than the one Dean had drawn. Jo had decorated the cast with a Latin phrase that meant ‘give them hell’, which, to Ellen, was funny written in Jo’s loopy flowing script.

“Now, you’re sure you can handle the pressure?” Bobby cocked a brow as he opened the trunk and began to pull out his luggage. He had one carryon, and one large suitcase.

Ellen had gone through and repacked his bags so he could get more in them. Out of all the things Bobby could do, he wasn’t an efficient packer when he needed more than a three day change of clothes. She’d opened the paper drugstore bag Dean had slipped into one bag, checking to make sure it wasn’t something too embarrassing -- the note scrawled on it read ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’. The bag, of course, held Dean’s idea of what Bobby would need on the cruise: condoms.

Ellen could see Jodie waiting just behind the glass doors. “You’re just scared you’ll have to pay up when you get back. Save a fifty out from your drinking fund.”

“My drinking fund is for drinking. If you win, and you won’t, you’ll get your money, Ellen.”

“Cocky much?”

“Could say the same for you.”

She shut the trunk. “I’m not cocky, I’m self-assured.” She waved at Jodie. “Now go get some.”

“Nice to have your permission, ma, but I’m not ‘getting some’. It’s a friends vacation.”

“You keep telling yourself that. I’ll give you two a week alone in bathing suits before you’re spending your time in a single room and having your food brought in to you.”

He rolled his eyes, shouldered the carryon, and picked up the suitcase. “I want my house still in one piece when I come back.”

“So I should cancel the demo? I don’t know if I can get my deposit back….”

“Try not to ream anyone out too badly for bein’ stupid. The provocation will be rather extreme with a few of them. Garth, Melissa, Shawn --”

“Sam can take the phones if you’d rather, but you’re worrying for nothing, Bobby. I can handle it.”

“Uh-huh. You can handle it and take care of Gwen.”

“I’m a mother. I can do anything and do several of those things at the same time. Besides, Gwen’s a grown woman and she’s got Sam at her beck and call.”

“Enjoy your smug feelings of competence.”

“Oh, I am. I’ll enjoy them right to that crisp fifty you’ll hand me when you get back.” She smiled. “Have a good flight, you old cuss. See you in three weeks.”

He smiled back, a brief twitch of his lips and was through the doors, moving faster than she’d seen him do in months. He didn’t look back. This vacation was going to do him some good. He didn’t get away often enough. Ellen was glad he had a girlfriend, even if she wasn’t a ‘girlfriend’ yet. She liked Jodie. Besides, it was sometimes nice to have the law on your side.

Ellen took her time driving back and walked into the house to the sight of Sam on the phone and Gwen flipping through two books and shouting out answers.

And so it begins, she thought, then pinched the bridge of her nose, and went to relieve Gwen of research duty.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first two days were spent mostly in their room, a beautiful suite that Jo didn’t question Dean about. He’d made a mumbled comment about it being much nicer than their website, but she pretended not to hear that. Actually, she’d expected something more along the lines of a Super8 on the edge of the city than a hotel right where the action was. An actual hotel. Not a motel, but a hotel, with all the fanciness the difference implied.

And they took advantage too. The room service, the whirlpool tub in the room, the balcony, the bed that was divine to sleep on.

At times, Dean was strangely nervous, like now, having breakfast on their tiny balcony overlooking the pool.

Jo cut a bite of strawberry banana crepes and smeared a little whipped cream on top of it. “What are you up to?”

“Who, me?” He gave her a cocky grin and cut up the biggest omelet she’d ever seen.

“Yes, you.”

“Well, I’m just contemplating that fine matinee show we’re seeing this afternoon.”

“Uh-huh. And after the matinee?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We could do some gambling.”

It was a good plan, though Jo wondered if he had any idea what the show was he’d bought tickets to. It was a new act, one that had plenty of acrobatics and dancing, but not the sort of thing she’d thought Dean would be interested in. As she watched him feign interest in the show, his eyes glazing over from boredom, she decided to take pity on him and leaned over.

“What’s say we hit the casino instead?”

He perked up a fraction. “God yes! I mean, uh, if you’re sure you don’t want to see the rest of the show.”

Jo laughed. “Honey, watching your reaction was enough of a show. I think I can bear to miss the second half.”

They made their way towards the casino and were almost across the lobby when Dean grasped her hand and tugged her back towards him. Jo went willingly into his arms. He’d stopped her directly in the center so that they were surrounded by a beautiful sheen of glass, gold, and marble. She smiled up at him. “What?”

He glanced around, fumbling with something in his pocket. “Jo, I…” A nervous laugh left him and he managed to dig whatever he was after out of his pocket. He licked his lips and held up…. A ring.

Her lips parted and Jo gasped.

“I want you to marry me. Today. Right here in Vegas. I thought, if you --”

“Yes.” She was shaking. Her hands were shaking, she could see them trembling against him.

“--want we could…. Yes?”

“Yes!” She nodded. “Yes, Dean, I’ll marry you!”

Dean grinned and took her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly, as though sized just for her. Had he had it sized? He’d never asked what her ring size was. Come to think of it, Jo didn’t even know her ring size.

He raised her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle just above the ring. “The office is still open for a few hours. What’s say we go get a license and pick out a place? Any one you want.”

It was easier than she’d thought to apply for a license and they were out of there quickly, choosing a chapel, picking a time to return that night. Jo’s spirits were buoyant and she took it as a good sign when they started winning in the casino. One win, two, and more, starting small, getting bigger as the day went on. Champagne began to flow, Dean insisting they celebrate. She knew he didn’t like champagne, but he was drinking it anyway because she liked it.

They took a break for dinner and then their chosen time arrived.

The ceremony was quick, hardly feeling like a real ceremony at all, just words spoken in front of strangers, but when that gold band was on her finger…. There was such a rightness to it that her soul sang with joy. The kiss to seal their vows felt magical, a tingling warmth spreading through her. From his expression when he stepped back, Dean had felt it too. They stood staring at each other until they were ushered outside into the hall.

There was no way she was going to remember it all later, she decided, glad they had a souvenir picture to take home when it was done.

From there, they returned to the casino. More champagne, more wins.

Nothing was going to bring her down from this high.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two in the morning had come and gone by the time Sam decided it was time to get some shuteye. He was contemplating moving upstairs when his phone buzzed. Taking it out, he looked at it, debating whether or not to answer when he saw the number. Lips tightening, he answered.

“You have some nerve calling me.”

“Did she bring the boxes to you?” His grandfather’s voice was clipped, annoyed.

“Excuse me?”

“That troublemaker Arlene. She had to take them somewhere. Was it to you?”

“What does it matter?”

“They’re family papers, boy. They belong to me and they belong at the compound.”

“Maybe she burned them,” he suggested.

“If she did, that girl is in for a world of hurt. It’s family history. Speaking of family, do you happen to know where Gwen is?”

Sam shook his head. “Why do you care?”

“Because she’s family. She’s a Campbell and I like to know exactly where my own are in this world.”

He snorted. “So what, Dean and I aren’t family anymore once we stopped your little demon deal? Oh, that’s right, we weren’t ever family to you. You didn’t give a damn where Dean was at at first and then later you couldn’t have cared less where we were unless we were furthering your agenda somehow. You were willing to sell us out to get mom back. Thing is, Samuel, the Mary you’d get back wouldn’t be the daughter you remember, but the mother who’d be pissed at how you treated her sons.”

“Sam --”

No. Who do you think you are?” He couldn’t help his voice raising and he heard Gwen beginning to stir on the couch. “Talking up family, then screwing us? Don’t think I buy this fake concern for Gwen. What do you want with her?”

“Her family needs her.”

“She knows where her family is and it’s not there with you.” He, Dean, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, and Castiel were her family now and all she needed.

“I need her,” was the angry reply.

“Why,” Sam countered. “Tell me why.”

“Not your damn business.”

“I’m making it my business.”

“Then you’re in for disappointment because it’s a need to know basis and you don’t need to know.”

Those words were familiar. “I’m going to say this once. Screw you and if I catch you within a hundred miles of Gwen, you’re dead.” Sam hung up, a bit surprised by the rush of anger in his veins at the thought of Samuel hurting Gwen somehow. He took several long, deep breaths until the anger faded.

She appeared in the doorway, wobbling a little on her crutches. Her hair was stuck up and matted a little on one side. The pain pills made her sleep hard. Every time he’d glanced in at her, she hadn’t moved from that first position she’d laid down in. She yawned. “Did I hear you mention Samuel’s name?”

“He wants something.”

“He’s always wanted something. What was it this time?” Sleepy cynicism colored her voice and she came forward, easing into the chair across from him.

“The archives.” He tapped a finger on the tabletop several times, then pointed it at her. “And you.”

That seemed to wake her up. “Me? What’s he want with me?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“And the archives?”

“Also wouldn’t say.”

“Huh. Maybe we should start going through those boxes?”

“If it’s quiet at all tomorrow, we could start after breakfast.”

Sam left her at the table and went to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby Singer’s house was just the right blend of harried research, frantic calls, and quiet. Gwen felt at home already. She slept better than she had the last time they were there, though maybe it was the pain pills. They tended to knock her out.

She watched Sam read, thinking about how different he was now than when she’d first met him. There was a warmth to him that hadn’t been present at first. Gwen decided she preferred this Sam to that one. A soul definitely made the difference.

He glanced up with a little smile and back down at the book he was going through.

“So you never said why you can’t have a girlfriend or kids.” Gwen paused in flipping pages in her own book. She wasn’t finding anything in it and didn’t think she would in the other book either.

“This conversation again?”

“You never answered the last time.”

Sam leaned forward in the other chair at the desk. “Well for one, because I really loved Jess and she died.”

“You were very young when that happened -- not that you’re old now, just…. You’ve got your whole life, Sam.” She could understand loving someone that much, but not the keeping himself tied to her forever part. He had so much to offer a woman. “What would she say to you about it?”

“Probably that I was being stupid and to live. That she’ll see me in heaven and I shouldn’t bury myself with her. She’d urge me to be happy.” His expression shifted, the tiniest glimmer of guilt surfacing in his eyes. “It’s not only her though. I’m Lucifer’s vessel, Gwen. If I have kids, I pass that on. Isn’t that enough to discourage procreation?”

“Do you really think your genes won’t get passed on? I mean, I may not be a religion scholar or anything, but one thing cultures agree on is that the world will end someday. You stopped it now, but it’ll happen eventually. I’m betting that no matter how careful you are, some woman you have a fling with over the years will get pregnant and you’ll never know because she’s just a name in a night. Maybe it’s already happened.”

“That’s a cheery thought. Thanks, Gwen. I have to be a monk now.”

She let out an exasperated breath. “All I mean is that it’s likely out of your hands anyway.”

“It’s predestined and I have no choice? No. Bull. Dean and I faced that before. There are always choices.”

“Then do it on your own terms. If it could happen somehow anyway, wouldn’t you rather plan it your way? Actually raise your kids to know there are choices in the hard spots?”

“Pollyanna.”

“Cynic. What do you know about vessel creation anyway? Maybe not every kid could be a vessel. Maybe it’s only with certain women that have something right in them, too. Maybe if you found one you liked and Castiel could confirm somehow that she wasn’t…special that way….”

“I don’t think he would confirm it.”

“Talk to him about it. It just seems stupid to me to discount that part of life completely without even trying.”

He shook his head and slammed the book in front of him shut. “Drop it.” The next book on the pile was dragged over and opened.

“No. You’re going to tell me that you’re content to sit back and watch Dean live the sort of life you want for yourself? Come on, Sam. Be honest with yourself at least. You want the girlfriend, the family. When Dean and Jo are hugging or cuddling, I’ve seen how you watch them. You’re like a little kid standing out in the cold staring through a window at a warm room, longing to be inside, only out because he won’t take that step inside.”

“That’s quite an image.”

“Am I wrong?” She raised a brow at him.

He crossed his arms. “Maybe you’re right. Slightly.”

“Thank you.”

“I said maybe.”

“It’s closer to the ‘yes’ I know is true than that ‘no’ you were spouting before. Really think about it, Sam. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“You really want me to list off things? Because I can think of a lot. The loss of people I care about is a big one. I’ve had so much loss in my life --”

“Loss is part of life. Dean’s taking that step towards what he wants. Why can’t you? Are you certain you can be content being the favorite uncle the rest of your life?”

The phone began to ring then and it hours before they could catch their breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Gwen set her mind to something, she was relentless. Sam already knew that fact, but he wasn’t sure why she’d latched on to his insistence he couldn’t have the sort of life Dean was embarking on with Jo. Gwen was determined that he could have it. While irritating that she continued to bring it up, her certainty was admirable. She really believed it. Even after being raised actively in this life, she believed it could work.

“Do you hear that?” Ellen held up a hand.

“Hear what?” Sam stretched his legs out and leaned his head back. Even with his need for less sleep, he was ready to drop after the past few hours.

“Silence,” Gwen answered. “She means the silence.”

All of a sudden, the calls had stopped, just like Bobby had said they would. He claimed they went in cycles, but had declined to share that schedule, his smirk bordering on fiendish.

They took naps while they could, Ellen heading up to that room she’d taken as hers. Sam stayed where he was on the couch and Gwen hobbled over from the desk to join him. She propped her leg up on the couch arm and laid back on the seat cushion beside him, asleep in minutes. Sam let himself drift off. When he woke, Gwen had several boxes stacked to her right.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. I clocked you at two and a half hours. That’s some nap. Ellen went grocery shopping, brought these down for me before she left.”

He stretched. “Finding anything?”

“No. Grab a box, have a look.”

The box he grabbed was filled with papers. He took out a few, looked at them, laid them aside and reached for more. It yielded nothing interesting and he opened the next box. Halfway through it, he grabbed papers that had something between them. A picture. Sam held up the photo, unable to believe his eyes.

His mom.

He’d found a picture of his mother as a teenager and she was just as beautiful as he remembered from that time he’d met her. The picture didn’t look like it even belonged in that box to begin with, an accidental leaving that almost felt like it was just for him. He touched the picture, smiling. How old was she there? Fourteen maybe? Fifteen?

Gwen dropped a photo album into another box. “Bunch of people I’ve never heard of and couldn’t care less about. Arlene was talking out her ass, I think, because there’s nothing strange here, at least nothing I can find. Whatcha got?”

“This is only the fourth box. Bobby counted eighty-five of them.” He passed the photo to her. “That’s my mom.”

She studied the picture and handed it back. “She was pretty.”

“She was.” Sam drew out his phone and snapped a careful picture of it, then sent it to Dean with a message and tucked both photo and phone back in his pocket. Dean was going to like that. He reached for the next album in Gwen’s box and opened it. She may be bored with their finds thus far, but he was finding it interesting now that he was awake enough to study the papers and pictures.

He wondered at some of the pictures, because few had any explanations, just names and occasionally dates. The papers were mostly clippings from newspapers, yellowed with age, and in haphazard files, like whoever had put them away had attempted to gather them in rough case files. Were these the unsolved cases? Or maybe the ones that hadn’t made the Campbell cut?

Gwen took a drink of her iced tea and leaned closer against him to see the pictures. He could smell that perfume she liked, a light whiff of scent. “That looks like my dad.”

He turned the album so she could see it better.

She slowly picked out people in the pictures. “Mom, dad, Christian….”

“Where are you?” Gwen didn’t look like her mother or her father.

“Good question. I know they took pictures of me. Dad had a camera permanently attached to his hand at one point.” Unfolding a piece of paper, she squinted at it, then handed it to Sam. “What do you make of this?”

On the paper was written ‘77.81.85.LBGC?’

“Mean anything to you,” he asked.

“I don’t know. Those could be dates, I guess. Maybe a name and year listing from another page that someone shoved in the wrong spot?” She snorted. “Hell if I know.”

“If they’re years, they’re four years apart.”

“That means what, exactly?”

“No idea.”

“That makes two of us.” She opened the last page.

Two Polaroid pictures were stuck face to face and Sam picked them up, carefully peeling them apart. One was muddy and he couldn’t make out what it was, but the other….

“God,” he murmured. “She looks just like you.”

The picture was of a pretty dark haired woman of about twenty-five by Sam’s guess, holding a baby. Standing behind her with a goofy grin was a young man likely about that age as well. At the bottom, on the white section, was scrawled ‘Aaron and Mia C. with baby Gwen.’

“Who are they,” Gwen mused, taking the picture and holding it up. “Some relatives maybe?”

“Let’s check.” Sam reached for the handwritten attempt at a genealogy they’d found, opening it and searching for anyone with those names. “There’s no Aaron or Mia in here and neither are you.”

“What?” She frowned. “That’s impossible. Let me see.” She made an outraged noise. “I should be right there.” She pointed. “There’s Christian, Mark, even Arlene. Why the hell aren’t I in there?”

“Maybe someone was trying to copy the real genealogy and never finished it?”

“I’m insulted now.”

Ellen came through the door with a grocery sack in the crook of one arm. “There’s a trunk full, Sam. I thought we could get Bobby’s grill going tonight, have some ribs, corn, potato salad….”

“You cooking Ellen?” He was all for that. The times he’d had Ellen’s cooking he’d cheerfully finished off several large helpings of whatever she fixed, even fighting Dean for thirds.

“I’ll do the inside stuff if you’ll do the manly barbecue bit. I even bought more beer.”

“I’m in. When do we eat?”

Though they discussed their findings with Ellen, she didn’t recognize Aaron or Mia or have an idea what the slip of paper meant. He saw Gwen tuck both picture and paper into her bag after dinner. Maybe when Bobby got back he’d have some ideas for them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo Harvelle had a habit of acting on impulse and occasionally, in the past, it had served her well. Other times, not so much, which was how it went with impulse. While time, age, and maturity had tempered that urge, she still did give in to it sometimes.

Like last night.

Blaming this on impulse wasn’t entirely accurate however. She could also count the heady high of their big win in the casinos, the free-flowing champagne (that had given her the headache now pounding at her temples with all of the enthusiasm of a mad doctor attempting to give her a lobotomy), and the fact that she’d really, really wanted to do it.

Opening her eyes carefully, she noted that the curtains were still blessedly closed and the lights off. Beside her, Dean was asleep on his stomach, sprawled across the king-sized bed and managing to dispute the idea that people who sleep on their stomach don’t snore. Normally, he didn’t, but this time he was snoring, a light droning buzz that added to the throbbing in her head.

Jo nudged him until he shifted and the noise stopped. Slowly, she sat up, moving in tiny, careful increments until she was sure her stomach wouldn’t rebel. She had vague memories of having a wild time with Dean until the porcelain god had demanded she worship him for awhile. She didn’t remember going back to bed. Maybe Dean had helped her? He hadn’t been quite as sloshed as she’d been.

She leaned back against the headboard. Raising her left hand, she stared at the gold bands now encircling her ring finger. One engagement ring and one wedding band that fit together like puzzle pieces. The jolt of rightness she’d felt when Dean had slid the wedding band on her finger and made his vow….

God help me, she thought. I’m Mrs. Dean Winchester now.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean opened his eyes without moving. Jo was already awake and sitting up, looking at her rings with an expression on scared wonder.

Mine.

The possessive thought welled up and he let it sit for long satisfied seconds. He could admit to himself that he loved and needed her. She fit well into his life and she was a good woman.

He suspected Sam had been manipulating him for months now in regards to Jo, but he didn’t really care because Sam’s thoughts on Dean and Jo’s relationship mirrored Dean’s own thoughts.

Why shouldn’t Dean marry her? Why not make their arrangement something permanent? She and others were always saying it was stupid not to live because of that fear of bad things happening. Not to mention that he’d proved he could do the boyfriend thing and really was rather decent at it. All it had taken was a girlfriend who was a hunter to make it work -- just like he and Sam had hypothesized a long while back. What was stopping him besides fear?

There was nothing to be afraid of. Here he was, a married man for -- he glanced at the clock -- twenty hours and he felt perfectly fine about it. No regrets.