Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: 26

~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as he was in the car, Dean cleared his throat and looked at Jo. “So, get this…. It turns out Gwen’s not a Campbell and Sam’s afraid he’s going to jump her while she’s sleeping.”

“What do you mean she’s not a Campbell?” Jo fastened her seatbelt.

“Sam asked Cas. He told them she’s not related to us at all.”

“She didn’t know?”

“Guess not. Wonder why they didn’t tell her?” He started the car, frowning. That was bugging him. He couldn’t get a handle on what reason the Campbell’s could possibly have had not to tell her she was adopted. Why would it be a big enough deal to hide it? What had they known about her family that made it necessary to hide her true parentage?

“Who knows. From everything I’ve heard, that side of your family is stranger than the usual hunting family.”

“They are strange,” he agreed, “but they have reasons for doing things and doing them the way they do.” Dean pulled out of the parking space and drove towards the exit.

“If you say so.” She reached down into the sack on the floor and pulled out a magazine. “Why is Sam afraid he’ll jump her? He’s never been before.”

“I think he likes her.”

“So liking someone automatically transforms into sexual attraction when you discover you’re not, in fact, related?”

“He has been particularly monkish lately.” He paid the parking fee and pulled out into traffic. “I don’t know. Likely he’s panicking over nothing, but can you imagine that?” A short laugh left him. “Sam and Gwen?”

Jo flipped a page in the magazine before answering, “Actually…I could -- once I get over the whole no relation revelation. I think she’s good for him. I mean, they obviously connected somehow back when he was soulless, or she connected with him, and now….” Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “They work well together. She’s not afraid to challenge him, so yes, Dean, I can see it.”

He mulled that over. She was right. Gwen had always shown a complete lack of fear of Sam even during the soulless period and she did challenge him, not afraid to argue with him over a point. She teased him and, from what Dean had seen, had been able to draw Sam out in conversation on some matters. “Yeah, me too.”

It was something of a relief to realize that Sam was already struggling with deeper feelings for Gwen, as though Cas telling them the truth had released feelings Sam hadn’t known were possible. Maybe Sam would give up the notion that he couldn’t have that life Dean had found. If Dean could do it, so could Sam. He’d tried to talk to Sam about it, explain that they both had the same things at stake, such as the vessel thing and the whole fear of losing people they loved issue. There were more similarities, but it all boiled down to the fact that Dean doing it meant Sam could -- if he let himself.

That would be the key. Sam was going to have to let himself choose to pursue that and Dean wasn’t sure Sam was ready for that yet.

If he did go for Gwen, it’d certainly be a ton of strange for awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen stepped out of the bathroom in her pajamas. For the first time since she’d stayed in a room at night with Sam, she was wearing her bra beneath the pajama top. Castiel’s revelation that she wasn’t Sam and Dean’s cousin after all made her a little uncomfortable to be alone in a hotel room with Sam. She was seeing him in a new light, not as a man she was related to, but as one she could be attracted to. If she let herself, she could easily like him in a far more personal way because Sam Winchester had many of the attributes she liked in a man. He was smart and beneath the competent tough exterior was a gentle, genuinely kind man. He could kick monster ass and turn around and be understanding and empathetic to the victims. Very appealing.

He was sitting on the bed, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, flipping channels on the tv.

She moved to the bed, determined to act as though nothing had changed. There wasn’t going to be even a hint that she’d already begun to feel the pull of attraction that Castiel’s words had given her license to feel. It was okay to notice Sam and that made her heart beat fast in her chest. She tucked a stray strand of hair back in her braid and turned down the covers on her side of the bed. “You’re not going to be all weird about the whole not really related thing, are you?”

What Gwen really meant was ‘are you as weirded out as I am and trying to ignore it?’ There was a quick glimmer of unease in his eyes, masked in a second, but enough of a nonverbal ‘yes’ that she felt better about her own discomfort.

“No,” he scoffed, making a face at her and turning the volume on the tv down. “Nothing to be weird about, right?”

“Right. We’re still the same two people we were yesterday and the past months.”

“Definitely.”

She got into bed and pulled the covers up. I’m fearless, she thought. I’ve fought demons, captured Alpha creatures. I can sleep beside Sam without freaking out because we’re not really related. I can totally do this. “I’m gonna turn in.”

“I think I’ll stay up, watch some tv. I’ll keep the volume low.”

“Sure.” She settled down and closed her eyes. Sam obligingly turned off the light, leaving the tv screen as the only light.

It was a long night. She fancied she could hear the seconds ticking by like a drumbeat. Gwen couldn’t drift off, her mind working a million miles a minute until, as Sam laid down on top of the covers beside her in the dark, she asked, “How did you know we weren’t related?”

“I didn’t,” was his prompt reply.

Reaching out, she turned on the light and sat up. He was on his side facing her, one arm beneath the pillow, hand grasping the pillow at the top of it. His other hand was on the bedspread, fingers splayed. “Yes, you did. You knew. When you asked Castiel, it wasn’t a mere guess, Sam. You only wanted confirmation of a fact. You’d already figured it out. How? What do you know that I don’t?”

He rolled onto his back, bringing the arm from beneath the pillow to bend it under his head. His gaze skimmed over her and trained upon the ceiling. “Do we have to do this now, Gwen? I’m tired. Can we do this in the morning over breakfast on the balcony?”

“No, we can’t do it in the morning. You had a reason you’d come to that conclusion and I won’t sleep until I know what it was. How did you know?”

Closing his eyes, he sighed. “I found a picture of your mom and a diary she wrote.”

“You didn’t show them to me? Sam? Why not?”

“I wanted to be sure they were genuine and that the facts within were explainable some other way than you being adopted by them. I guess,” he opened his eyes and looked at her, “it’s the right explanation after all.”

“You should have told me.”

He sat up in a smooth, quick movement. “I was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me. I’m capable of protecting myself, as I’ve amply demonstrated the months since you’ve known me. What is it with the men in this family and their overprotective urges?” She thought of Samuel and his efforts to keep her safe. Christian, Mark…. They’d all done it. Campbell men had a thing about protecting Campbell women even if those women were quite competent and as well-trained as they were. Sam and Dean were part of the family through their mother, so they counted in that sweeping generalization.

His jaw tightened, a muscle there ticking. “It’s genetic,” he bit out.

“Must be,” she retorted.

“I was going to show both to you once I’d gone through the diary.”

“You have them with you?” She shoved the covers off and moved onto her knees, ready to scramble for his bag at his affirmative. She was antsy now, wanting to see her mother’s handwriting, read whatever words she’d written on the pages, and see the picture. It had been years now since Gwen had seen a picture of her. When Patricia had died, her father had put all of the pictures away, mourning her until his own death.

“No.” Sam bent a knee and rested one arm on it. “I left them at Bobby’s. I wasn’t anticipating time to look through the diary on this trip.”

Gwen stared at him. He was lying. It wasn’t that she could see it on his face or hear it in his voice. She simply knew that Sam was lying about the diary being at Bobby’s. He had it with him. She knew he did. “I don’t believe you.”

“You have no reason not to.”

“Sam, you may be a professional liar, but so am I. I know you’re lying to me.” She began to move to the end of the bed.

One hand lashed out and caught her upper arm. “In the morning. Just wait until morning. We’re both tired --”

“Let go.” She tugged without managing to pull her arm free. His grip was firm. With a burst of annoyance, Gwen tugged harder, her free hand reaching to pry at his fingers only to be caught by his other hand.

“Tomorrow, Gwen, please.”

“Get your hands off me, Sam!” She began struggling in earnest, as determined to reach that diary as he was to keep her from it. It was frustrating that he didn’t appear to be expending much effort.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he told her in a calm voice that only served to annoy her further.

An aggravated growl left her.

“Stop struggling.”

“Make me!”

He lifted her and, for a panicked moment, Gwen was weightless. In a second, the mattress was at her back and Sam was straddling her, hands clasping her forearms, that grip still firm and unyielding, yet gentle at the same time. “There. Made you.” He leaned down close. “Why do you want to do this tonight?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I saw my mother?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I saw mine? You had yours with you for fifteen years before she died.”

“Let me see the diary and picture.”

“You want to be well-rested to look at that. It’s going to dredge up a lot of memories and you can’t be bone weary for that because it’ll take a lot out of you. Will you trust me?”

“I do trust you, but I want to see it now.” She tried bucking, which was an absurd thing to do since he outweighed her by more than a few pounds of solid muscle.

“Gwen, stop!”

She shook her head. “I’ll scream bloody murder if you don’t let me go.”

“Gwen --”

“I will. I swear I will.”

“Will you just --”

She opened her mouth to let a scream loose and had a brief second to register intent in his eyes before her resolve to behave as though nothing had changed melted away beneath the pressure of his lips on hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but an aggressive one, demanding she respond. She saw the tactic for what it was. He kissed her to shut her up and distract her, a dirty tactic.

What would he have done if they were related, she wondered. Certainly not this.

Heat flared to life in her belly, surging through her limbs, warming her. She kissed him back, relaxing, letting herself be distracted, and knew there’d be awkwardness later so she might as well enjoy the kiss while she could.

He drew back slightly, confusion in his eyes, his grip on her slackening. “That felt….”

“Weird,” she answered, feeling breathless and shaky in a good way.

“Very. But I kind of….” His gaze dipped to her mouth, his tongue doing a slow sweep of his lower lip.

“Me, too.” She swallowed hard, really wanting him to kiss her again. Or maybe she’d kiss him.

Sam released her arms and sat up. “I shouldn’t have done that.” A pensive frown settled upon his brow.

But he had. Oh, how he had in a most delicious fashion!

He moved from her, crawling off the bed and standing. “I, uh, I think --”

“In the morning. We’ll look at the diary in the morning.”

“You think I kissed you to get you to agree to that?” He rested his hands on his hips.

“No. I think you kissed me to stop me from screaming.”

“You’d be right then.” He motioned to the balcony. “I’m going to go outside awhile.”

Wanting Sam wasn’t a good idea. Gwen knew that. After all, they’d had a good relationship going and to pursue a personal, intimate relationship would change things all the way around. She watched him standing on the balcony for nearly half an hour before she realized that Sam wasn’t coming back in until he was sure she was asleep.

Lying down, she closed her eyes, certain she wouldn’t sleep a wink, but sleep dragged her under before she even realized it had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t planned on kissing her, really he hadn’t. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since Castiel had confirmed his suspicions. They were still in that weird phase of trying to figure out just how to behave with each other in light of that information…and he’d gone and kissed her. Where did they stand now?

Right then, with her staring up at him, defiant, angry, and such a strong woman, he’d wanted very badly to kiss her and take some of her fire into himself. She’d been unresponsive at first, perhaps a bit shocked, but her lips had quickly warmed and parted, inviting a deeper caress that he’d been happy to give. It had felt good to kiss a woman who didn’t want to use him in some way. She didn’t want money or a favor or anything at all. Her return kiss had been because she’d wanted to kiss him.

It had been an achingly long time since that had happened.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and stared out at the early morning traffic.

He didn’t want to want Gwen. It wasn’t a good idea to go even more personal with her, even after Castiel’s assurance that she wasn’t special in ‘that way’. What he needed to do was to put her back in his mind as untouchable, yet was it possible at all to close Pandora’s Box once it was open?

His mind kept replaying that kiss over and over as he stood there. Her body pliant beneath him, her response whole-hearted, with nothing held back.

I bet she’d be like that in bed, he thought, unrestrained and passionate….

Sam groaned and leaned over, laying his arms on the railing and resting his chin on them. Dean was right. He was afraid to want her, afraid their perfectly comfortable relationship would change and become uncomfortable. He didn’t want that to happen. The same sort of thoughts ran through his mind and, as the sky lightened with dawn, Sam went back into the room and laid down on the bed beside Gwen.

Closing his eyes, he slept.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby’s house was quiet and calm. There were no phones ringing, the television wasn’t on, and the only sounds were the hum of the electronics, Ellen’s snores, and pages turning.

“Castiel.” Uzziel’s voice was low. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.” He stepped into the living room. Ellen was sprawled on the couch, a blanket over her and Uzziel was sitting at the desk, a book open in front of him. Castiel leaned over Ellen, placing a hand on her shoulder and checking to make sure she was well. “You’ve healed her shoulder.”

“It was bothering her. The constant low pain was making her grouchy.”

He went to the desk, studying Uzziel, trying to get a feel for his present mood. “What are you doing here?”

Uzziel turned a page. “I was curious. Having interacted with Ellen previously, I thought….” With a sigh, he slammed the book closed. “How do you do it, Castiel?”

“How do I do what?”

He looked up at Cas. “Them? How do you spend so much time with them and not lose yourself? You have some of their mannerisms, their way of speaking. You’re like them and not at the same time. How do you do it? How do you not fall again to experience their vices and pleasures?

Castiel peered at him a bit closer. There was a struggle on Uzziel’s face, minute changes of expression. “I’m an angel, they’re human. We’re fundamentally different. I did fall once, Uzziel.”

“Not because you wanted to experience their way of life.”

That was what was happening here, he saw. Uzziel was being tempted to slip from heaven for good. Out of all his strengths and the possible weaknesses he could have, Castiel had not thought this to be Uzziel’s weakness. “You’re tempted.”

Uzziel’s attention turned to Ellen, another ripple of struggle appearing. “I simply don’t understand how you manage, Castiel.”

He moved around the desk to stand beside Uzziel, blocking his view of Ellen. “Was coming here your idea?”

“Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“I decided to come down to earth and observe like you said I should and Balthazar suggested I see Ellen since I’d interacted with her once before.”

For awhile now, Castiel had had mixed thoughts on Balthazar’s return to the heavenly ranks, but this made him wonder what Balthazar’s game was now. He’d likely seen Uzziel’s weakness, because that was Balthazar’s particular strength, and used it against Uzziel. But why? Why cause discord? Why send Uzziel down here where he might fall before anyone could stop him? That would leave Castiel alone in the top ranks, needing to remain mostly in heaven to take care of matters. What was Balthazar’s motive?

“Return to heaven, Uzziel. Immediately.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Uzziel needed to be removed from the area of temptation with haste.

“I’m in extreme danger, aren’t I?” He knew he was close to falling, could see it.

“Go.”

He was gone then, and Castiel took his place at the desk.

Curious, he looked at the book Uzziel had been studying with such concentration. It was an old atlas. He stayed to speak to Ellen, waiting with patience until she began to stir.

She stretched and yawned, opening her eyes. “Cas? That you?”

“Yes.” He moved to crouch down beside the couch close to her eye level.

“Where’s Uzziel?”

“He’s returned to heaven.”

“Shame. I was going to teach him to Tango.”

“Is it wise to confuse him any more than he already is on angel-human relations?”

“He’s sweet. Not sweet like you are, but sweet.” She rolled onto her side.

“I’m sweet?” That Ellen would call him sweet surprised him.

“Course you are. You’re adorable, gawky sweet. Uzziel is more…. He’s exuberant.”

“Yes, he is rather enthusiastic.”

She snorted. “And he talks. Lordy, how he talks! Why didn’t you tell me that in angel build you’re a linebacker?”

“Size doesn’t matter, Ellen.”

Her lips curved, amusement in her eyes. “The one man in the world who thinks that would have to be an angel.”

“Besides, it never came up.”

A bark of laughter left her as she sat up. “That’s something you two are consistent on. You say things that feed my trash mind. He coming back?”

“Likely not. But if he does, would you do me a favor, Ellen?” When she nodded, he went on. “Remind him he’s an angel and tell him, in your most authoritative way, to return to heaven?”

She frowned. “Cas? What’s going on?”

Castiel shook his head. “Nothing you should worry about. An internal matter I need to clear up. I was going to stay awhile, but I think I should take care of that matter instead.”

“Okay. Don’t be a stranger. Come back if you’ve time.”

He followed Uzziel back to heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was sitting on the end of the bed when Gwen woke, dressed and holding something in his hands.

She yawned and sat up, rubbing a hand over her eyes. Had he gotten any sleep at all? She pushed her hair back from her face. Her braid had come undone as she’d slept.

“I shouldn’t have done that last night,” he said in a low voice that was nearly a whisper. “I acted because I could. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever done that to a woman before.”

Gwen was about a second from quipping, ‘Done what? Kissed her?’, when he continued.

“I shut you down on the diary because I didn’t want to deal with it. I was tired and I knew it’d take an effort to start through it. That was wrong. I should have just sucked up my fatigue and handed it over. It’s a part of your life and if our roles had been reversed….” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a quick meeting of his gaze to hers. “I’d have been pissed. I never shut Jess down like that and I don’t recall doing it to any other women either. And then I kissed you and I admit, I did it to shut you up. You were right. If Cas hadn’t said you were adopted, I probably would have covered your mouth with my hand.”

“I’d have bitten you if you had.”

“I know. We would have gotten into it even more. I kissed you because I could.” He turned the item in his hands over. “I was wrong to do both those things, Gwen. Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. In case you didn’t notice at the time, I liked that kiss, Sam. It felt a little weird, of course, but I did like it. I wasn’t just saying I did.”

He nodded once and held out the item. It was a book, with a picture sticking out from between the pages. “Here. It’s yours. I’ll try not to protect you from anything else we find in those boxes.”

Gwen took the book, fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”

“Might not succeed, but I’ll try.”

The picture sent a wave of nostalgia crashing through her, a hundred different memories flitting through her mind. Her mother picking her up and pointing at the targets set up in a pasture, her calm voice explaining that they were having target practice and when Gwen was older, she’d be out there with them. Her mother whipping up a feast of food and cussing the air blue when the Campbell clan started in without saying grace first. Her mother insisting Gwen learn how to dress girly instead of running around in hand downs from all the boys, yet also insisting that Gwen learn how to protect herself with weapons and words. And then her mother…dying of cancer and wasting away in a hospital bed.

She ran a finger over the image.

Was Castiel right? Did she need to pursue her birth parents? Or should she be thankful for the loving parents she’d had?

“It’s a pretty clear clue, isn’t it? I see why you were certain before you asked. If she’d been pregnant with me, she would have been big as a house in this picture.”

Gwen flipped through the pages of the diary. Patricia Campbell’s handwriting was neat and tiny and there were many entries per page, most abbreviated in the sort of code she recalled her father using as well. Initials for names. The last two numbers on years unless it was about a previous century. They’d wanted their diaries to be accessible to family and incomprehensible to outsiders. This though, wasn’t as cryptic as the hunter diaries. It was as close to a personal diary as her mother would have had time to write.

She wondered what had happened to her father’s hunting journal and turned to the week she’d been born. There was no mention of a new baby. Nor in the next week or the next. In the fourth week, the first week of July, 1981, she found a series of entries that made her pause in her flipping.

‘Michigan. Coven? A. worried. M&G missing for days. N. on trail. Suspicious. Must be prepared.’

‘Hex bags at A.’s. Nasty ones. Powerful witch. Poss. con. to 77?’

‘A. dead. No time to mourn. M. still missing. No trace. N. taking G. to safety. Packing.’

‘Moving. Papers in order. Argued with N. on decision. Shouldn’t pursue this. Stupid.’

‘Set. New base location. New rules. 77.81. Def. con. 4 years. Do not allow full cycle! Watch for signs. Vigilance necessary. 85. next.’

“Sam?” Gwen held out the book. “Did you see this?”

He looked at the page, read through it. “No,” he replied slowly. “I wasn’t to that point yet.”

“77.81.” She tapped a finger to that entry. “That’s the same set of numbers from that paper we found in one box.” Getting up, she retrieved the paper and that picture from her bag and brought it back to him. “Look. ‘77. 81. 85. LBGC?’ The numbers are years.”

“A four year cycle? They were watching for signs of another one in 85.”

“Look at the picture. ‘Aaron and Mia C. with baby Gwen.’. Now look at the entries. A. and M.? N. taking G. to safety? Sam, I think this is talking about me. The letters LBGC are initials. Gwen C. Whatever the C stands for since it’s not Campbell.”

“Or the C is another first name. We can’t be sure. If it is about you, then you’re connected to that case somehow and if they never found M….”

“My birth mother could still be out there -- if it means Mia. Mom says A. is dead, but we can still look in case it’s not referring to Aaron. So we look in the boxes for files in those year ranges --”

“All the way up to the present in case it’s not a completely cold case --”

“ -- and pull files that show similarities, comparing them.”

“Plus referring back in Patricia’s diary for other entries regarding A. and M. to give clues on where to look in the files for further clues as to their identities.” He grinned. “It’s a plan, Gwen.”

She returned the smile, but it faded as a thought occurred to her. “There are like eighty boxes, Sam, all crammed with things.”

“It could take awhile. We’ll even have to go back through boxes we’ve already looked at.”

They both sighed.

“But we have a target now, something to shoot for.” Gwen closed the diary, with both pictures and that extra slip of paper marking the page. “It’ll be easier looking through the papers with some sort of parameters. We can all work on it when we’re at Bobby’s.”

“Good. This is good, right?”

Gwen nodded. “It’s very good. Maybe by this time next year, I’ll know who my birth parents are and what happened to them.” She took the diary to her bag and slipped it into one pocket. Sam cleared his throat and she turned.

“We should probably forget about the….” He touched a finger to his lips and Gwen felt a pang of disappointment to realize he meant their kiss. “It was an impulse and it won’t happen again.”

“I already said there’s nothing to apologize for, Sam. Besides, it’s forgotten. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

He eyed her a moment. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She did her best to look confused.

“For….” Sam’s lips curved into a slow, easy grin. “Right, right. So do you want to stay another day or head back to Bobby’s?”

“Back, of course. We’ve got a mystery to solve and I’m dying to get started.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

On the last day before they were to return to Bobby’s house, Dean and Jo sat down at the table together.

“Way I see it,” Dean began, “we have three things to talk about. Living, hunting, personal details. None of those are easy subjects at this point. Let’s start with the first and see where we end up?”

“Okay. We’ll start with living arrangements.”

“So, is it a house or apartment you want to rent?” He had it fixed in his mind that there’d be one or the other. They’d need to find one furnished, of course….

Jo stared at him a long moment, brows drawn together in a frown. “Dean, I don’t need either unless you’re dying to have them. The last time I had an actual home was when I was still living with mom and working at the Roadhouse. The…angel’s arrangements don’t count. Anyway, I’m used to living out of a bag and crashing at Bobby’s on occasion works fine for me. Not like either of us has a lot of stuff.”

“You don’t want a house? Really? A place of your own to decorate and all that girly stuff?”

An amused smile tugged at her lips. “I may have a girly streak, but I’m not that girly. No, I don’t want that, at least not yet. Maybe in a few years we can do that, set up house somewhere. For now though, I’m content how we’ve been. I like traveling.”

“What about a home base of our own? I mean --”

“I know what you mean and I don’t think we’re at a place in our lives together where doing that makes sense. We’re not ready to become a mix of Bobby and the Campbells. Honestly, I think living somewhere on a regular basis is the last thing we need to look at doing.”

Her answer surprised him. He’d really thought she’d enjoy having a home of her own. Maybe he didn’t know Jo as well as he’d thought he did. “Okay. No house or apartment I guess. Yet.” Some day though. Some day he wanted that with her. “Now about hunting, I was thinking that we can easily add your supplies and bag to the trunk. The Impala --”

“No.”

“ -- has plenty of room…. What?”

“No. I said no.”

“Why?”

She directed another long stare at him. “Dean, I’m not riding in the back of the Impala. I’m not teaming up with you and Sam on a daily basis. We’re two separate hunting teams and it should primarily stay that way. You and Sam as one team and me, Gwen, and mom as the other. We all work best that way and you know it.”

“You’re my wife, Jo. I want you with me.”

“So we do something like work the same state or area, or work like we were, with meet-up dates.”

“Unacceptable. I’m not waiting months to see my own wife. I want you with me,” he repeated, “not possibly hundreds of miles away.”

“And I said no. I’m not getting in the middle of you and Sam as a team. You’d be too busy trying to protect me to do your job. It’s better if we keep our hunting careers separate most of the time.”

He snorted. “You mean you swear Ellen and Gwen to secrecy on how dangerous your hunts are and I never know if you’re in danger. No.”

“Did I ever do that, Dean?”

“Did you?”

“No. I’ve never sugar-coated for you ever. Why would I start that dishonest crap now?”

He knew she hadn’t, but it helped to hear her quick denial of such action. “Because you don’t want me to worry.”

“You’re going to worry no matter what I do or say. It’s the nature of loving other people. We worry about those we love, but we have a job to do and it’s an important job. We both need to be out there doing that job because a lot of hunters aren’t alive anymore. Those of us that are left are needed more than ever. Dean, I love you, you know that, but I’m putting my foot down on this. We’re two teams right now. We’ll see if it works still and if it doesn’t, we’ll make adjustments as we go.”

Sitting back, he crossed his arms and stretched his legs out beneath the table. “You’re putting your foot down?”

“I am.”

“You realize I can pick you and that foot up easily?”

“Will you stop being such a stubborn S.O.B. and bend a little? Try this for awhile. We can always adjust at any time. Adjusting is an option. Come on Dean. Make our own destiny, right?”

“My idea is us making that destiny together. One car, one team. Yours is not being together. Two cars, two teams. What’s the point of being married if we’re not together?”

“You’re impossible,” she announced. “It is together, just not working together most of the time. Do you really want to work together all the time, day in and day out? We’d drive each other crazy. Sam would shoot us both. Not to mention, what were you planning on doing with Gwen and mom? Shove them in the backseat, too?”

He gritted his teeth. She accused him of being stubborn, but she had a good share of that trait herself. “I want weekly meet-ups, not once a month or every three weeks. Weekly.”

“Every other week,” she countered.

“Weekly, or you’re sitting in the back of the Impala.”

“Try and make me.”

“Oh, I could.”

She snorted. “Don’t even think about trying that.”

“Weekly, then?”

Jo pursed her lips, fingertips tapping on the table. “Parallel hunts in the same state is the only way that could happen, requiring advance notice of cases, meaning we’d be working older cases, not the fresh ones. Do you want that?”

No, not really. He’d prefer the fresh cases. “Fine. Every other week,” he agreed with a grudging nod, “but we stay in the same region and when we meet up it’s for more than a single day. I want quality time with you in bed and out of it.”

“Every other week is better, but we’ll still be catching mostly cold jobs and cases don’t wait for you to have quality time with your wife.”

“Are you deliberately poking holes in your own plan, Jo?”

“Just pointing out all sides for you, sweetheart. You know, so you can’t claim you didn’t sign up for what you signed up for. Basically, we’ll be doing what we were after we got mom back. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You weren’t my wife then. I’ve got husbandly urges now, woman.” He uncrossed his arms. “But…we’ll try it with the option of tweaking things.”

“Good. While we’re on tough questions, where do you want to eat tonight?”

“Steak place.”

“That was quick.”

“Craving for a ribeye.” Dean sat up, placing his arms on the table and reaching for the deck of cards they’d had out. He shuffled the cards over and over. “Ready for another tough question?”

“Sure.” She turned in her chair, drawing a leg up and wrapping an arm about it, resting her chin on her knee. “Lay it on me.”

“What are we doing with that money we won?”

There was quiet as they stared at each other. After a moment, Jo licked her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never had thousands of dollars to play with. The closest I ever came to that was my college fund and mom had that pretty well locked down. She was pissed when I didn’t go back to school. I don’t know what to do with it, Dean.”

“Wealth, money, moolah….” He tapped one foot. “Do we be adult about it or do we spend like drunken sailors?” He was actually torn on the issue. While they should be realistic, he really wanted to be irresponsible and childish. At least for awhile. That same struggle reflected in Jo’s eyes.

“It’s just money,” she offered. “We’ve been perfectly fine without it, so does it matter what we do with it?”

“Good point. It is nice to have a little to play with.”

“I’d say put some in supplies, tuck some away --”

“Get Ellen’s car in top shape. If you’re determined to go out with them, I want you in a decent vehicle.”

“Which will still leave plenty to play with.” Jo tucked her hair behind her ears. “You know we’re not going to figure out all of this in a day, Dean. Maybe not even in a year.”

“I know, but if we can figure out something….” He set the cards down and reached out, taking her hand in his. “I want us to last, Jo. I don’t want us growing apart and becoming estranged. I want….”

“A modified happily ever after?”

“Something like that. Every day normal isn’t possible for us, I know that. I tried living that and it didn’t work. Hunters can’t have that because of everything we know and are. However, if we can manage to carve out something similar, I’ll be happy.”

She touched his face with her free hand, palm along his jaw, thumb sweeping across his cheek. “Sweetheart, you’re happy when you’re hunting and with Sam, out there doing your job. I want you out there and happy and I’m not my mother to go all pissed the second you leave on that job, like she was with my dad. I’ve been out there. I’m going to be back out there. I know just how important what we do is and how important it is to have hunters who like their job. We can do this, Dean. We can make this life together.”

“You believe that?”

“I do. It’s possible and we will have to make our own path, going against what society says is normal. We can’t think about what normal is to other people, remember? We have to redefine the word for ourselves.”

He turned, hands moving to cup her face a moment before he slid his fingers in her hair. “You are more than I ever dreamed I’d have.”

“Ditto.”

“Ditto? I say that and you say ditto?”

“Hey, you said it so well….” Her lips curved in a mischievous grin.

Dean kissed her.

She was right. They weren’t going to figure it all out in a day or probably even a year, but maybe, possibly, they’d figure something out and do it together.