Fic: Devil's In The Details (Mature)

[briarwood]

Title: Devil's In The Details (2/2)
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Sam/Jo (Dean/Jo implied)
Summary: Jo only learned of Dean's deal when his year was over. Following Dean's death, she forms an unexpected friendship with Sam, who is still determined to save his brother from Hell.
Warnings: Character death, implied rape and minor DV.
Notes: I was going to write a short story about Jo mourning Dean. But it kinda got long on me, and turned into a very different story.

Link to Part One

---

DEVIL'S IN THE DETAILS

October 2009

As soon as she got home, Jo stripped off her shirt and bra and stood there, topless, in front of Sam. "Ta-da! What do you think?"

Sam stared, but not, for once, at Jo's breasts. "Nice tat. But, Jo..."

The 'but' was beginning to irritate her. They'd talked about this. They agreed. "No more arguing," Jo said firmly. "It'll work. And I'm not letting you do this alone."

He stared at the black and scarlet tattoo a while longer. "Alright," Sam said finally. "How long until it heals?"

Jo relaxed. He was going to let her do it. "Two weeks," she answered. She pulled the shirt back on, covering the magical seal now tattooed into her skin. If she lived through this, she would never again be able to wear a bikini on the beach. If she lived through this, it would be worth it.

"Sam, we need to talk."

Sam was staring over her shoulder. Jo turned, and saw the calendar on her wall.

"Two weeks," Sam said, his voice faraway. "It fits."

Jo glanced at the calendar. "Halloween," she said. "But, Sam..."

Sam cut across her. "No, not Halloween. November second. That's the day. Of course that's the day." There was something dark in his voice.

"Sam," Jo tried for a third time.

Sam turned back to face her. "It's alright if you're having second thoughts. Although, before the tattoo would have been better timing."

"I'm doing this," she promised. "But, Sam, I think we need help."

"No." Sam moved closer to her and started to button up the shirt for her. "Jo, no one will go along with this. Bobby's the closest thing I have to family and if he knew what we're planning he'd shoot me like a mad dog."

Jo thought he was probably right, but she said, "I don't really know Bobby that well. But I do know what we're doing. Sam, we can lay down every grain of salt in Wyoming and it won't be enough."

"We repaired the devil's trap. It's the best we can do."

"No, the best we can do is not open the fucking gate! But we know that's not an option. Sam, the gate opening has to be what broke the devil's trap in the first place. It has to be because that's when your yellow-eyed friend showed up. So it doesn't mean jack that we fixed it. I think I've figured out what to do, but we can't do it alone."

Sam finished buttoning her shirt. "I get your point, but there is no one else, Jo." He cupped her cheek with one hand.

Jo reached up to him, wondering why he'd bothered to button the shirt if she was about to take it off again. "Do you still think I don't understand how important this is to you? I'm busting my ass to help you get Dean back. I think...maybe...I know someone who will help us."

"No hunters," Sam said firmly.

"Marty Egan. He's not a hunter but he knows the score."

"I've never heard of him."

Jo shrugged. "No reason you should have. He's one of Ash's - uh - friends."

Sam flashed a sudden grin. "What word did you just not say?"

Jo smiled back. Sam was too sharp. "Well," she said, a little embarrassed, "you know Ash. He was a bit...on the kooky side. He had a group of friends from his MIT days; he called them 'the posse'. And most of them are even weirder than Ash."

"And this is who you think we can trust to hold back the gates of Hell. Literally."

"I know how it sounds, but Marty's solid. He helped me on a hunt before. It's better than going in without backup, isn't it?"

Sam still looked uncertain. "Okay. Call him."

Jo headed for the laptop. "Oh, no. Marty, we find online."

---

Sam leaned over Jo's shoulder as she typed. "Gunchick? You're kidding me."

Jo turned her head and kissed his cheek quickly. "Give me a break. I picked the handle when I was fifteen." She was logging into IRC as she spoke. Sam made no comment on the channel name, and Jo was grateful. "Let's hope Marty hasn't changed his taste in porn."

She typed.

#ping bigbluetiger
@Hey little chick long time
#been away R U up for an adventure?
@good bad or ugly?
#U will piss your pants baby
@when?

Sam whispered against Jo's ear. "Don't tell him too much."

@and where?
#explain when I C U. 2 weeks?

Sam said, "Don't give him this address. Um...Red Cat Motel outside of Rock Springs. He can meet us there on the first."

Jo frowned. "Why not here?"

"Just trust me."

@r u there chica?
#Yeah. Sorry. 1 Nov red cat motel its near rock springz thanx
@anytime chica I O U
#hey bring martha & i'll be real grateful
@LOL promise TTFN
#TTFN

Jo disconnected with a smug grin. "Gotcha."

"Who's Martha?" Sam asked.

The worry in his voice made Jo grin. "Not who. What. I won't spoil the surprise."

Sam grabbed the back of her chair and spun her around to face him. He was smiling. "Hey. I just watched my girl flirting with another guy on a porn channel. Now she's keeping secrets from me?"

---

2nd November 2009

Sam parked the Impala at the edge of the field. He walked around to the trunk and hauled out the bags Jo had prepared. Jo reached for the largest bottle of holy water.

Marty stopped when he saw the Impala's open trunk. "Whoa! Man, that's cool." Marty was African-American, taller than Jo but dwarfed by Sam. He wore his hair in long dreadlocks and had dress sense that belonged in the 1980's. Jo knew that the personality he projected was mostly a put-on. Like Ash, Marty was a genius; unlike Ash, he was solid and reliable when he chose to be. Ash was reliable only until he got bored.

Marty opened up the sports bag he carried and extracted a complicated mess of brightly coloured plastic.

Jo grinned when she saw it. It brought back some memories she wasn't planning to share with Sam.

Sam stared. "What's that?"

"Martha," Jo and Marty answered together.

Jo explained. "It's a water pistol with a backpack tank. Marty and Ash were in the same LARP league."

"LARP?" Sam repeated. He sounded genuinely confused.

Jo turned to him in surprise. "Dude, what did you do at college? Study?"

Sam gave her a look. "Well, yeah. What did you do?"

Jo shrugged. "LARP. Live action role play. It's like Dungeons and Dragons, only with water guns instead of dice." Jo lifted the holy water and started to fill Marty's tank.

"Not bad, Jo," Sam approved.

Marty moved to hand Jo the water gun, but she waved it away. "No, Marty, that's for you. Come on. The tracks are this way."

Back in August, when they found the place where the railroad tracks had blasted open, Sam repaired the devil's trap by clamping new iron poles to the broken ends of the tracks. It restored the lines of iron. It would be useless for a train, but trains were not the point.

Now, with Jo and Marty holding flashlights in the fading light, Sam opened the clamps, deliberately breaking the devil's trap once again.

"You wait here," Jo explained to Marty, though they'd already been over the plan several times. "It's about a fifteen mile walk to the cemetery so it'll take me and Sam a couple of hours."

"And I just close the clamps, right?" Marty said, looking down at the tracks where Sam knelt.

"Not right away." Sam looked up. "If this goes down the way we expect, when the gate opens there'll be a...it's like a pulse of energy, or demonic power. It's what broke these tracks apart two years ago, so..."

"So, powerful," Marty said, and there was no trace of his usual grin. "Level with me, dude."

Sam met his eyes seriously. "My brother and I were at ground zero and we both walked away. I don't think you'll be in physical danger. Just the other kind."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me. The other kind is plenty." He stood up. "This is where the tracks are broken so I'm pretty sure that this time, the energy will get channelled this way. Like water, it'll go for the place where there's a leak. That's when you close the clamps. As fast as you can."

Jo added, "Soak your clothing with that holy water and keep yourself wet. It should discourage...you know. Once the clamps are closed stay on this side of the tracks no matter what. And when you see us, you've got to test us with the holy water, too."

Marty nodded. "I've got it, chica. You gonna be okay?"

She smiled nervously. "I've got Sam watching my back." She reached for Sam's hand, feigning a confidence she didn't feel.

"See you on the other side," Marty said.

Jo and Sam walked into the woods together.

---

"It's not too late to turn back, honey," Sam told her after they had been walking for a while.

Jo adjusted the weight of the bag slung over her shoulder. "I will if you will."

Sam snorted.

Jo shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I have to do this, Jo. You don't. This is going to be dangerous for you."

They were about to corral hundreds of demons in one place, with Jo the only human body within reach. Dangerous didn't even come close. This was a conversation they'd had many times, and it usually went exactly the same way. This time, Jo decided, it could be different. She had a secret, something she hadn't dared to tell Sam before this night. It was time for him to know.

She answered, as she had several times before, "Last time none of you here were possessed. The demons went as far away as they could."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, but this time we're boxing them in."

"Which is why I got the tattoo. They can strip the skin from my bones, but they can't get inside me."

"Jo, that's not comforting."

She could see the cemetery ahead of them and stopped walking, letting the bag fall from her shoulder. She wanted to finish this before they reached that place. "Sam, I'm not scared for me. I'm scared for you. What if you can't do this?"

"I'm not giving up until I bring Dean back," Sam said fiercely.

Jo grabbed his arm. "Sam, listen. There's something I've got to say."

"It can wait, Jo." He tried to shake her off.

"No! It can't. Sam, I need you to promise me you're coming back. No matter what."

Sam gazed toward the cemetery. "That's the plan," he said firmly, but Jo saw it in his eyes, the burden he'd carried ever since Dean died. He was determined to come back with Dean or not at all.

Jo ran her hand down his arm to hold his hand. "I know how hard this year has been. But I need to know you're coming back." She moved his hand to her body, pressing his palm against her abdomen, below the belt of her jeans. "We need you to come back," she said.

She felt Sam's hand jerk and his eyes widened. "Jo," he whispered, and she knew he understood. "Jo, you're...?"

She nodded. "About eleven weeks." She tried to smile. "I couldn't tell you. You'd have made me stay behind."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Damn right. Jo, you can't be here. Not now. You know..."

"I know," she interrupted, "that I'm not leaving. We started this together. We've got to finish it together. Now promise me, promise me, Sam."

Sam turned his hand so his fingers entwined with hers. "You're having a baby. My baby." He said it as if it was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard. Sam kissed her, slow and deep. He let his bag fall and held her tight against his body. Jo responded with all she had, drawing his tongue into her mouth. Heat rose between them. Jo put everything she felt into that kiss, telling him without words that she loved him. It might be the last time they ever kissed.

Jo could feel Sam's reluctance when he drew away from her. "I promise," Sam said. "I'll come back to you."

"Thank you," she whispered back. The promise was enough. Jo took a deep breath, collecting herself. "Okay!" she called with false brightness. "Let's get this done."

---

Jo completed the seventh salt circle and glanced back over her shoulder to Sam. The circles weren't exactly circular but they were complete, which was all that really mattered. Seven concentric circles of salt around the mausoleum which housed the gateway to Hell.  Jo reached into her bag for her sawed-off. If she actually needed a gun tonight, it would probably mean she had no chance, but Jo was going to use every weapon within her reach.

Sam was standing before the mausoleum with the Colt in his hand. Moonlight fell upon him, silvering his skin. Jo had a sudden flash of disquiet. This was Azazel's plan. This was what Sam had been meant to do all along. Azazel was dead, but were they wrong to be here? Was Sam doing the demon's work, even now? Slowly, Jo walked toward him, stepping carefully over the concentric circles of salt. There was no turning back now.

Sam faced her as she reached his side and Jo saw some of her own worries mirrored in his expression. Jo met his eyes, no longer smiling. They were ready.

Or, perhaps, not quite ready.

Sam took her hand in his and pressed the ancient gun into her palm. "When Azazel possessed my dad, Dad begged me to shoot him with this. To kill them both. I couldn't do it."

Jo opened her mouth to speak, but Sam covered her lips with the fingertips of his free hand.

"I thought he was crazy, but I understand now. I understand him so well. Jo, baby, listen to me. When I go through the gate, I want you to grab the Colt. It's fully loaded. Five bullets."

Jo shook her head. "No! Sam, you're supposed to take the Colt! How are you gonna get out without it?"

"You'll let me out," Sam answered calmly. "Give me one hour and open the gate, just a crack. It will be enough."

"Sam, an hour isn't long enough to..."

"Yes, it is. It will be longer for me. I don't know how I know, I just do. I'm certain." Sam's expression was very serious. "Jo, you need to be prepared for the possibility that what comes back won't be me. You need to be prepared to use the Colt."

For the sake of our baby. Jo caught her breath. Sam didn't say the words, but they hung in the air between them.

Jo met his eyes and asked the question she had to ask, dreading the answer. "What are you, Sam? What did Azazel tell you?"

Sam hesitated, but only for a moment. "I'm his son, Jo. He's my father as much as John Winchester was. Do you understand what that means?"

"No." Jo shook her head in denial. "That's not even possible, Sam. He was lying!"

"It's the truth. This isn't biology or science, Jo. It's demonic power. I know it's true because he never told me directly. I put it together from what he said, and things he showed me. I hate it, but it's real, and going through that gate could make it even more real. Now tell me you'll take the Colt. Tell me you'll use it if you have to."

Jo understood what Sam feared; that walking through Hell could burn away his humanity until all that was left was his demonic spirit. She didn't know if it were possible. Could she do it? Could she kill Sam? It wouldn't be Sam. That was the point.

Jo nodded uncertainly. "I can do it."

She saw and felt the tension flow out of his body. "Good. Good girl." He bent to kiss her, a gentle and lingering touch of his lips. "I love you, Jo. Whatever happens."

He had never said it before. She knew he loved her, of course she knew, but he'd never said the words. Jo tried to answer, but couldn't speak past the emotion filling her. The words just wouldn't come.

Sam nodded, resolve hardening his face. "It's time."

---

The details were lost in a blur of terror, noise and flame. After, Jo never clearly recalled it all. They were caught out, after all their careful planning, by the one thing they failed to anticipate.

Sam unlocked the devil's gate and what burst out of there was not energy or demonic black smoke. It was flame. Jo was blasted off her feet by the explosion. She flew across the cemetery and landed on hard stone. When she came to her senses, Sam was gone and the gateway to Hell stood wide open, its flames roaring skyward.

Jo had a moment to think, through her terror, Someone new is in charge there now. Then she was running, pushing her way through treacle-thick air that scalded her skin, breathing in toxic fumes with every step. She heard herself screaming as she reached the door. She shoved it with all her strength and she screamed and screamed forever. She was burning, dying and still she shoved against the unmoving stone.

And it closed with a dull clang.

Even as seal spun back into place, cogs and gears whirring, Jo grabbed the Colt and fell, shaking to the ground. Her throat was raw from screaming and she could taste blood in her mouth. There was pain, too much pain, in too many places. She wanted to scream some more.

There was silence, utter silence all around her. So much so, Jo thought perhaps she was deaf. Then she realised she could hear her own breathing, harsh and rapid. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She was alive. At least she was alive. Jo lay back in the burned grass, surrounded by salt, savouring the knowledge that she lived. She thought of the tiny life inside her, but had no way of knowing if her baby might have been hurt. She offered up a prayer for all of them.

There was rain. Softly falling rain, cooling her skin, as if in answer to her prayer. It was soothing, but frightening, too. Too much rain might wash away the salt which protected her.

It was a long time before Jo thought to look at her watch. She had to brush soot off the watch face before she could see the time. When she could read it, she couldn't remember what time they'd begun.

Okay. Okay, Jo. Calm down. Just guess.

She estimated half an hour had passed, while a small voice in the back of her mind taunted her, saying it might have been hours and she wouldn't know. Half an hour. Thirty minutes. That meant thirty minutes more before she should re-open the gateway. Yeah, that was easy.

Jo sat down on the ground and felt pain shoot across her shoulder and chest. She tried to ignore it. She looked at her watch again. Twenty nine minutes.

---

Give me one hour, and open the gate just a crack. Jo didn't know how to do that. Sam hadn't explained.

She approached the gate, holding tightly to the Colt. The closed door towered above her, the seal with its complex pattern silent and cold. She touched the seal, tracing the contours with her fingers. If only she could be sure Sam was waiting on the other side.

Jo checked her watch again. Time up. She had to decide. She looked down at the Colt in her hand. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, its inscription standing out in sharp relief. Non timebo mala. I will fear no evil. It seemed to Jo that it was a message, a reassurance. Fear no evil. It was about faith. Faith and trust. Sam would be there. She trusted him.

Jo slid the Colt into the centre of the seal.

Cogs and wheels shifted. The seal opened again.

Jo's world disappeared.

---

3rd November 2009

Jo woke in the back seat of the Impala, and she wasn't alone. The car was moving and the engine noise was all she could hear. Jo opened her eyes. She was leaning against the door with a blanket tucked around her. She lifted her head away from the window. Sam was driving the Impala. He was watching the dark road, apparently unaware that Jo was awake. For a second, she was just happy to see him. Then, remembering his warning, she looked around for the Colt or for any weapon. There was nothing but the blanket covering her, and the body at her side.

Body? Jo looked at the person sharing the back seat with her and her heart leapt. Oh, my God. He did it. He really did! Dean was unconscious, a blanket covering most of his body just like Jo, so all she could see was his face. Dean looked exactly as she remembered him. Whatever Hell he had been through, it left no trace on his sleeping features. That seemed...wrong.

God, if you're listening, please let this be okay. Let it be my Sam.

"Sam?" She tried to speak and found her voice hoarse.

Sam's head turned so fast he must have given himself whiplash. "Jo? Are you okay, honey?"

"I think so. What happened?"

Sam pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. He leapt out and was opening Jo's door before her brain caught up. She was still leaning against the door when it opened and she half-tumbled out. Sam caught her and helped her to her feet before he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

It hurt like Hell, and Jo squirmed in his arms. Sam let her go quickly, but he couldn't stop touching her. He kissed the top of her head, whispering words she couldn't quite hear against her hair.

Jo pushed him away. She hadn't intended to, but being touched hurt so badly. "Sam, it's okay."

"I thought you were dead," Sam said helplessly. "When I came through, with Dean, you were on the ground and...oh, God, Jo. I thought..."

She looked up at him. "It's okay. I'm okay. I just hurt."

"When we started...when I started this, I thought there was nothing I wouldn't do to break Dean's deal. No price was too high to get him back. I was wrong, Jo. When I saw you lying there...that was too high."

Jo smiled through the pain in her shoulder. She understood, but she couldn't let him think that way. "No, Sam. This was my choice. I wanted to help. But I'm real glad I'm not dead." She reached up to him with her left hand, as that hurt least. "Sam. You did it. You found him." Why didn't he seem happy?

Sam nodded. "I...I'm not sure, Jo. I don't know how much of Dean I brought back."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain at home. We're only an hour away, I think." Sam closed the rear door of the Impala. "You ready?" he asked, gesturing at the front.

Jo hesitated. "What happened to Marty?"

"I left him at the motel. He gave me a message for you. Said next time you should warn him if you mean piss your pants literally. But he's in one piece."

Only partly reassured, Jo climbed into the front seat, sliding across from the driver's side to ride shotgun. Sam jumped in beside her and started the engine again.

---

Dean didn't wake, not even when Sam carried him up the stairs to the apartment. He was alive and physically whole. It was more than Jo had truly expected, though she'd told herself over and over that if anyone could storm the gates of Hell and come out intact, these Winchesters could.

By unspoken agreement, they gave the bedroom over to the unconscious Dean. Sam laid him gently in the bed, covered him with the comforter, and turned to Jo. He looked exhausted.

Silently, Jo reached for Sam's hand and led him into the next room. She knew he wanted to keep vigil with his brother. She wouldn't stop him if he resisted, but Sam allowed her lead him to the couch. They sat down together and Jo curled up against his side. In moments, she was asleep.

She woke as Sam laid her down, carefully, on the couch. He didn't notice her waking. Jo heard him move into the bedroom. After a moment, she rose stiffly from the couch and followed him.

"How is he?" she asked quietly from the doorway.

Sam was sitting beside the bed. He answered without taking his eyes off Dean. "The same."

"I...um...I'm going to get cleaned up. Do you need anything?"

"No. We're fine."

Jo left him alone with his brother.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and barely even recognised her own face. It looked as if most of her hair was gone. One of her eyes was swollen almost shut, the skin around it red raw. The rest of her face was smudged with dirt and soot. Jo had enough vanity to wonder if the scars would be permanent, to mourn her ruined hair. Her hands felt stiff and painful as she eased her shirt off. When it fell to the ground, she saw why her shoulder and chest were so painful.

The tattooed skin was fine but all around the design her chest was swollen and red. It was as if the tattoo itself had burned. Maybe that was exactly what happened. If so, the tattoo did its job. It protected her. Painfully.

She started to undo her belt and found blood on her jeans. There wasn't much, but it was in a very bad place. Jo clasped her hands over her abdomen. Did something happen to the baby? Shouldn't she know? Wouldn't she feel it?

Jo was crying as she stepped under the shower. The water was hot. She stifled a cry of pain and twisted the dial to cold. She just stood there, letting the chill water flow over he body, watching it swirl down into the drain.

She didn't know how long she stood there. Eventually it was too cold and, teeth chattering, Jo turned the water off. She tried to wrap a towel around her, but the cloth against her skin hurt too much. She stood, nude, before the mirror. Now that she was clean her skin looked better. It was, she thought, more scalded than burned. Second degree burns at worst. She gazed into the mirror for a long time, examining her body and face. Then she took up some scissors and started to fix what was left of her hair.

That was how Sam found her, crying, nude and shivering on the bathroom floor.

"Jo!" She felt a warm towel wrap around her shoulders then Sam's arms enfolded her. She leaned into his embrace and, with Sam holding her, Jo got her tears under control. God, what must he think of her, falling apart like this.

Sam touched the pile of blonde hair she had cut off. "Oh, Jo. Your beautiful hair."

"That doesn't matter," she said, and it didn't. "It'll grow." She looked up at him, feeling stronger now. "Sam...the baby. I think..."

He looked stricken, almost panicked. "Something's wrong with our baby?"

"I was bleeding," she confessed. "I don't know." Suddenly, more than anything, Jo wanted her mother. Ellen could tell her if it was okay. Jo had never been pregnant before, she didn't know what was supposed to happen, what was normal...or not. Sam wouldn't know, either, but her mom would.

"I'll drive you to the hospital," Sam began to stand up. "Do you want me to call Ellen? Does she know?"

Jo drew the towel tighter around her shoulders. "No, I haven't told her." She was calmer now, thinking clearly. "No hospital, Sam. I...the bleeding's stopped. Whatever happened, it's too late for them to help." She let Sam help her up. "I'll call my OB, get an emergency appointment. How's Dean?"

Sam smiled, and she knew before he spoke that it was good news. "That's what I came to tell you. He's awake. He doesn't seem to remember...you know. Being in Hell."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"I hope so. From the little I know it's normal not to remember...being dead." Sam hesitated, and Jo remembered that he'd died, too, once. Sam added, "I'll take care of him. You'd better make that phone call."

---

Christmas Eve 2009

Jo balanced the tray on one hand and reached for the kitchen door, which was partly open.

Through the crack in the door, Dean spotted her and sprang up to help. Jo had been serving drinks since she was eleven and didn't really need help. But she didn't complain. Dean opened the door wide for her and helped himself to a glass.

Jo grinned at him. "Thanks, big brother." To everyone else she called, "Who else wants egg nog?"

Three smiles greeted her. Sam was sitting on the floor with the weapons chest as a backrest. He was wearing a lopsided Santa hat and had an empty beer bottle between his feet. Jo smiled at him first, always.

On the couch, Ellen sat with Bobby. Neither of them was wearing a silly hat, but who cared about that? Just having them here was enough. Ellen was still a little cool about Jo being involved with the Winchesters, hunting with them, but she'd agreed to come for Christmas. That was definitely progress. Bobby, too. As happy as he'd been to see Dean alive, he was even angrier than Sam predicted when he heard how they'd done it. He called Sam all sorts of things, but he was here, which had to mean he'd finally forgiven Sam for risking Armageddon. Or maybe he was just willing to put it aside for the things they had in common. Dean's life was a miracle they could all celebrate.

Jo handed out egg nog to everyone. As she crossed the room to Sam she caught sight of the little Christmas tree Sam and Dean had built together. It was a pathetic plastic tree only a metre high, but they'd decorated it with silver bullets and a foil star at the top. It was so perfectly them it made Jo smile every time she saw it.

The best decoration of all, in Jo's opinion, was the one Dean made just for her. He'd taken the picture from her ultrasound to the copy shop in town and had it blown up and printed on silver card. Then he'd edged the whole thing with tinsel and hung it in the middle of the living room wall.

When Jo asked him why, Dean told her it would save her the awkwardness of trying to slip her big news into the conversation. He was right, but Jo knew that wasn't his reason. She kissed him under the fake mistletoe and let that be her thank-you.

Jo sat down beside Sam, careful not to spill her glass of cola.

It was Bobby who finally asked the question. "So, don't keep us waitin'. When's the baby due?"

Jo glanced at Sam before she answered. "In May. Plenty of time for me to baby-proof the guns and figure out how to change a diaper."

"You look happy," Bobby observed, before adding gruffly, "Is he gonna make an honest woman of ya?"

Jo rolled her eyes, but Sam answered before she had a chance. "I tried. She turned me down." He slipped his arm around Jo's shoulders and ruffled her short-cropped hair, silently letting her know he was still okay with her answer.

Jo hurried to explain, because they hadn't even told Dean about that. "I won't get married just because I'm going to have a baby. And 'honest woman'? Bobby, this is the twenty first century, okay? We might get married some day. Now's not the right time." Jo didn't expect Bobby to understand: he had pretty old-fashioned values.

The truth of it was with Dean back in his life, it seemed like a bad time for Sam to tie himself down. Jo didn't want him to have to choose between them. He had to be free to take off with Dean, if he wanted. Dean still hadn't decided if he was going to go back to hunting, full time. Jo thought he was putting the decision off. It scared him, though he wouldn't admit it. Dean said he didn't remember his time in Hell, but she knew he remembered in his dreams. The nightmares weren't every night now, but he still had a lot of trouble sleeping.

Dean sat on the arm of the couch, though there was room for him to squeeze in beside Ellen if he wanted to. "Did you pick a name yet?" he asked Jo. "'Cause, I think Dean would be a great name. Or Sam if it's a girl, of course." He shot a grin at his brother and Jo was grateful that he'd moved the conversation on.

Sam's arm tightened a little around Jo's shoulders. "We've talked about it a little," he admitted, leaving it up to Jo whether or not to say more.

She did. "If it's a boy," Jo told them, "Sam wants to call him John." She smiled at Sam affectionately. "We might have to fight about that one. I'm not sure the world is ready for another John Winchester."

"I'll drink to that," Ellen said cheerfully, raising her glass.

"I think we all can," Sam agreed.

Bobby nodded. "To John." He raised his glass.

"To John," they echoed together, and they all drank.

Dean finished his egg nog in one, sprang up and hit the play button on the CD player.

As the heavy rock beat filled the room, Sam got to his feet and offered Jo his hand. "Come on. Let's dance."

~ End ~