Topic: The Hits Keep Coming (AU)

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:11 EST
Nim paused outside the door of the bedroom where she'd left Dean sleeping, her head cocked toward the staircase. A faint grin rose on her face as she caught the sound of Bill and Bobby apparently discussing the French onion soup that was just finishing off in the oven. She had a feeling she was going to miss seeing Bobby eating it, but Bill could probably be relied on to accurately recreate the look on the other hunter's face for her later. Her fingers smoothed against the wooden door for a moment before she pushed it open, dipping her head around to take a look inside. "Dean?"

No sound or movement came from inside the room, not even the sound of snoring. The curtains were drawn to hide the light, a form dimly seen huddled on the bed. The journal from the future lay open on a table beside the bed, along with Dean's Beretta. Rumpled bedding covered the shape of a man lying beneath the covers.

Slipping inside with an indulgent smile on her lips, Nim closed the door quietly behind herself, moving toward the bed. "Still sleeping, huh?" she said, her voice soft despite the intention to wake him up if she could. Never poke a sleeping hunter; they'll break your bones before ever opening an eye. Walking around to seat herself on the bed beside him, she leaned over, gently stroking fingertips along his hairline. "Time to get up, baby," she tried again, lowering down to brush a gentle kiss to his temple. "Dean?"

He was slow to waken, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep, moving slowly up through the layers of sleep as some part of him heard a familiar voice callling his name. Lucky for her, she was waking him gently or she might find herself on the floor before she had time to think about how she got there. "Hmm?" he murmured, stirring slightly, eyes moving beneath closed lids.

She certainly wasn't stupid enough to try and wake him up in a hurry unless she wanted a few fresh bruises. Nim shifted closer, one hand falling to brace herself against the bed at his back as the other rose again to caress his cheek, trailing down over his shoulder affectionately. "That's it, almost there," she murmured, touching another soft kiss to his cheek. "There's fresh food downstairs, if you can, you know, wake up long enough to eat it."

Maybe it was the word "food" or maybe it was her gentle touch and the sound of her voice summoning him from unconsciousness, but his eyes finally fluttered open, feeling like he'd just awoken from a long, deep sleep, and yet, was not quite rested, groggy and disoriented. He grunted quietly as he shoved a hand through his hair and peered up at her from the bed, his voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"

She straightened up as he stirred, out of range of the flail of his hand as he scrubbed at his hair. "Oh, about twenty past five," she told him fondly. "You've been asleep almost eight hours. I thought maybe you should eat before going back to sleep again."

"Eight hours," he grumbled as sat up in bed, glancing toward the window to see how much daylight was left, though he couldn't see much through the closed curtains. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?" He dropped his legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly, groggily. He had a million things to do before Brian got here, or so he thought, the first of which was reading that journal.

"Because you needed it?" Nim suggested, ignoring the complaining tone as she stood up, getting out of his way. Hooking her thumbs through her belt loops, she stepped back, unable to stop herself admiring the view, no matter how sleepy it was. "And I wouldn't have woken you up, either, except that you need to eat."

"I need to do a lot of things," he remarked, unzipping his duffle and pulling out a clean shirt. "Did you meet Bill yet?" he asked, as he turned to face her and pulled the shirt over his head. It was nothing special, just a plain pocket t-shirt appropriately in hunter green.

Leaning back against the edge of a dust-sheet-covered dresser, Nim tucked her arms about herself a little awkwardly. "Uh ....yeah, I did," she nodded, dropping her eyes to the toes of her boots. "Told him about Ellen and Jo, showed him the knife. He kinda took it all in and didn't really react." She shrugged a little, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she looked back to Dean. "He's, uh, bullying Bobby into eating real food right now."

He tugged his shirt down over his chest, furrowing his brows at her, not only at her remarks about Bill, but about Bobby and real food. He felt out of sync again, like he'd been sleeping too long, yet not long enough. He thought of her future self a moment and wondered if this Nim was on her way to becoming that one. Self-assured and yet still somehow vulnerable, independent but not really wanting to be alone. "Maybe Bobby told him before we got here, and you were just confirming what he already knew."

"Maybe." But she didn't sound convinced. Her expression was almost unreadable, but for the quietly saddened flicker deep in her eyes as she went on. "There's nothing there, Dean. I look at him, and I don't see anything familiar. I don't even know what to look for ....he's a stranger." And yes, it was a disappointment. She'd hoped that she would at least feel something, something familial, friendly. Not nothing at all.

Dean's brows furrowed deeper, unsure what to think about Bill himself, frowning at Nim's apparent disappointment. "I'm sorry," he sympathized, wondering what he'd missed while he was catching up on sleep. He didn't quite understand what was going on. Some part of her seemed to remember him, but not her father, who Dean would have thought would have made a bigger impression on her than he had. A thought occurred to him, but one he was not quite ready to express yet, if ever. He turned again to snag a clean pair of jeans and socks from the duffle. "Apollo still has a lot of explaining to do."

"Bill's a good man," she said quietly. "He'll be a good friend, if we don't freak him out too much." Drawing in a slow breath, she shook her head, dismissing the upset easily. It wasn't enough to hurt her, or so she wanted him to think. As Dean moved on with the conversation, she moved with him, rolling her eyes as that familiar lopsided smile made itself known again. "Well, Apollo can't find us until we have some way of summoning him," she pointed out. "I don't think calling him on his cell will help; we're gonna have to hope for the guitar to arrive with Brian."

Dean made no comment regarding Bill, not having met him yet. He knew his father and Bill had been acquainted back in his world, but he wasn't sure if things were different here or not. "You don't think there's a cheater summoning spell in the journal?" Dean asked, as he tugged the pair of jeans up over his shorts and zipped them closed. He hadn't had a chance to read much of the journal yet, but it was the next thing on his to-do list.

"I wouldn't know," she admitted, dropping her hands to her sides as she pushed out of her lean against the dresser. "I haven't exactly read the whole thing in depth. Just skimmed what would help off the top." Pausing in front of him, she slipped her arms about his waist, closing her eyes to lean in close, breathing in every nuance of his scent to soothe her rattled senses.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:15 EST
She seemed to suddenly need to feel him close, and he was only too happy to comply, feeling the same way. He encircled her in his embrace, holding her close, pressing his face against her hair, breathing her in just as she was doing the same to him, memorizing her with his senses. Everything will be okay, so long as we're together, he thought, wanting to tell her, needing to believe it, but keeping the thought to himself for now. "We're safe here, Nim," he assured her instead, though he really couldn't be completely sure of that either, especially after what he'd experienced back home.

Her head lifted, the tilt of her neck drawing her nose gently along the line of his in an affectionate gesture, her hands smoothing against his back. "I know," she whispered back, harboring the same doubts as him from a different perspective. Her eyes opened to look up at him. "We should get downstairs before they eat everything."

He closed his eyes a moment at the tender show of affection, a soft breath taken, not sure if he was ready to share her with the two older hunters just yet. He opened his eyes as she spoke again, looking down at her with an unmistakably loving gaze. "Do we have to?" he asked, wishing they could have just a little more time alone together, despite his hunger. There never seemed to be enough time.

He always seemed to read her mind at moments like this, sharing a wish for more time that she didn't want to openly admit to out of a feeling that it was too selfish. "No, we don't have to," she murmured back to him, enjoying the back and forth heat and cool of their shared breath as they leaned into each other. "How long we wait depends on how hungry you are."

"Maybe it's not food I'm hungry for," he admitted, tipping her head up to press a sweet, loving kiss against her lips. His stomach reminded him that it had been quite a few hours since he'd eaten, but food could wait. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he promised, lips parting slowly as he leaned his forehead against her. Had they only just made love a few hours ago' It seemed like forever.

She smiled softly, echoing the deep emotion that passed between them in that kiss as she stared into his eyes, revelling in the sense of warmth and safety, the sense of being so completely loved and wanted that wrapped about her when she was in Dean's arms. His promise rippled through her, a thousand objections rising but never quite reaching her lips. Arguing symantics in this soft, easy moment was a surefire way to rip apart the reaffirmation they were sharing without words. "You're the best part of my life," she whispered tenderly, one hand creeping from his back to touch her fingers almost tentatively against his jaw. "Don't let anything happen to you."

The smile that curved his lips was warm but wistful, touched by her words, but knowing that things had gone horribly wrong in the future. Maybe it was time to tell her the rest of the story, to admit the truth of what had happened in the future he'd visited so that it didn't happen again. She was going to read about it sooner or later anyway. "Nim, there's something you should know," he started as he reached for the hand that was touching his jaw and wrapped his fingers around hers. "I did something stupid in the future. Something I promised I'd never do."

Her fingers curled into his easily, her gaze caught and held by something in his eyes that demanded her attention. A very gentle frown touched between her brows as she gazed up at him, aware of just one promise she'd extorted from him over the past weeks that he had agreed to without conditions. "Do I want to know?" she asked very softly. "You're not gonna do it this time around, are you?"

His gaze flickered away from hers for a brief moment, as if he couldn't meet her gaze. Why he should feel guilty for something he hadn't done yet and hopefully never would, he wasn't sure, but there was a pang of guilt there, knowing it was something he was more than capable of doing. "You were pregnant and....I haven't read the journal yet, but I assume I didn't want you to get hurt, so I did something stupid and got myself killed." He looked back, needing her to understand that he had no intentions of it going down that way again. "I promised you I'd come back and change things, that I wouldn't do that again, but....I can't let you get hurt either."

The guilt on his face was all she needed to understand what it was he wasn't quite happy to admit to his future self having done. "Handcuffs again, huh?" she drawled mildly, rolling her eyes. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that particular journal entry is gonna be in my handwriting." She sighed softly, trailing her other hand fondly over his hip. "I don't know the details, and neither do you. If it really was a stupid thing to do, you'll know not to do it this time around. If it wasn't so much stupid as foolish, we'll figure out a different way this time."

"We've already figured out a different way, but..." He frowned, worry lines creasing his forehead, looking like the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders. "I know why I did it, but I promise you I won't do it again."

"No, you won't." Nim smiled gently, her hands rising to draw his head down, brushing her lips against the frowning creases on his forehead. Lowering back to her heels, her nose bumped his in the by now familiarly affectionate gesture she often touched to him. "Because you know better than to piss me off like that now." It wasn't so much a scolding as a teasing warning.

He snorted a short, ironic chuckle. "Are you saying pissing you off is a fate worse than death?" he asked, sarcastically. He'd died more than a few times and he'd been to Hell. He couldn't really imagine a worse fate than that, but he didn't want to make her angry - quite the contrary. "Just promise you won't let me do anything stupid again," he said, sweeping a bit of blond hair back from her forehead as she bumped noses against his.

"Oh, I promise," she grinned, easing her arms about his waist once again, leaning close into him all over again to let her smiling lips stroke against his as she spoke. "I'll break your nose if you try."

He smirked at the threat, knowing she'd likely carry through with it. He wrapped his arms around her as she drew him close, content to just hold her for the moment, each kiss rekindling the passion between them that never really seemed to cool. "I'll consider myself warned," he replied, returning her kiss and kissing her again, each kiss warmer and deeper than the last.

"Mmm, you better had," was laughed softly between those kisses, her hands rising up his back as she drew herself up closer, breaking back just enough to tease him with a kiss that wasn't making contact with his lips. "Thought you were hungry?" Dark eyes sparkled impishly up at him as her lips tasted his for the briefest of moments, drawing back once again in another tease.

"Mmm," he murmured softly against her lips, his eyes drifting closed, lost in her spell. "Hungry for you," he muttered, as his hands found their way beneath her shirt, palms sliding upwards, thumbs catching the hem to drag her shirt off, if she'd let him.

She wasn't fighting, though she was still refusing to let a true kiss melt from her to him as she rose onto her toes, fingers sliding between them to flick open the buttons on her shirt as he tugged at the hem. "Best feed you then, hadn't we?" she murmured, the gentle husk in her voice rising from the smouldering desire deep inside that was entirely his to play with and mold at his whim. So what if he'd only just gotten dressed" He could get dressed again afterward.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:19 EST
How often had he lain awake, wondering what this very moment would be like, playing it out in his head until it nearly drove him to madness" But this was no fantasy, no dream - this was real. She was real, and she belonged to him. He wasted no time in claiming her, not caring who heard them. If this was what Aphrodite wanted, he was all too happy to give it to her.

But it was no god Nim called to when she was in his arms, no goddess neither. It was his name, over and over, falling from her lips like a prayer, like a promise. Even now, in this unfamiliar house, this unfamiliar bed, trying to keep herself quieter for the sake of the hunters who shared the space with them for now, every part of her was all about Dean, meeting him, matching him, moment for moment, until that breathless peak was reached and she fell, gasping out every last vestige of love in her heart against his ear, trembling in his arms with no wish to be anywhere but there.

His moans matched hers, not crying out, but instead whispering her name close against her ear, his breath warm against her neck, calling her as though he was lost at sea and she was the only beacon that could lead him to shore. Desire swelled and crested as he drove himself against her, clutching her close against him, heart to heart, moving as one body in a thrashing union to quench their hungered need, until they both fell over the precipice, shuddering in each other's arms. Not only a physical connection, but an emotional and spiritual one - a sacred union between a man and a woman that had been blessed by the gods themselves. Dean felt his throat close against the swell of tears at the release of tension that was more than purely physical, collapsing against the bed and pulling her into his arms to hold her close, all out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat.

It seemed an eternity before her heart slowed its thundering in her chest, the rush of adrenaline ebbing gradually from her limbs until she lay limp in his arms, moaning softly one last time as she relaxed. Her lips brushed his chest, tasting the salt sheen of his sweat tenderly. "I guess you really were hungry, huh?"

He wasn't sure where it had come from, the sudden overwhelming desire for her. It was as if something had just risen up inside him, overpowering, overwhelming, and unable to stop it without it causing him physical pain, he'd surrendered to it, all the frenetic tension going out of him, bringing him close to tears with emotional release. He drew a shaky breath as he fought to calm the beating of his heart. "Didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, circling her in his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin.

Caught up close against him, she breathed in and out slow and steady as her own heartbeat steadied, still revelling in the tenderness they shared in the wake of their coupling. "You never hurt me," she murmured, the promise in her voice one she was never likely to break. Harm was done in the intention, not the action. No matter how rough they were with each other, Dean had never hurt her, and she refused to admit that he ever would by intention. There was a pause, and she grinned suddenly, tipping her head back to look up at him. "Did I hurt you?"

"God, no," he replied, smiling down at her and brushing a honeyed tendril away from her cheek, finding her more beautiful in that moment than ever before, falling ever deeper in love with every stolen moment spent with her. "You could never hurt me," he told her, though he knew that wasn't quite true. There was one way she could hurt him, he knew, and that was if he ever lost her. "Think they left us anything to eat?" he asked, absently, not really caring about food at the moment, though his stomach was starting to make itself known.

Oh, I could hurt you, the same way you could hurt me, she thought in the depths of her mind, nestling closer to him amid the rumpled sheets. But we'll fight that happening every step of the way. His comment about the food brought a laugh bubbling up from her lips, her hand lowering to drum her fingers over his growling stomach. "I could always make something else, if they haven't."

He frowned a little as another thought entered his mind, knowing the quiet of the moment wouldn't last forever, but maybe that was why it was so precious to him, as rare as diamonds. He knew he was going to have to buckle down and not only read the journal, but study it, memorize it backwards and forwards so they knew everything their future selves knew, so they didn't make the same mistakes. Soon, he told himself. Soon, just a little more time. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure I can scrounge up a sandwich or something." He seemed in no hurry to spoil the moment.

"Hell yes, it matters," she laughed, rising up to lean over him with a gentle poke against his side. "I haven't eaten yet either, princess." She knew he was worrying about what he thought he had to get done in the space of twenty hours, that he somehow thought he had to know everything from within the pages of the journal off by heart. Yes, it was valuable, possibly the most valuable object they now owned, but so long as they had it, there was no need to know every last detail by heart. "We're safe here, baby," she reminded him softly, curling her hand to his cheek. Whether it was entirely true or not, that safety was theirs for now, at least.

He frowned up at her, the contentment turning once more to worry. They weren't safe anywhere, and he knew it. Not forever anyway. Sure, they were safe for now, but for how long" A day, a week, a month' Only until Hades or some other enemy figured out where they were. They had to be constantly vigilant, careful, on their toes, even more so when it seemed all was well because that was when it was easiest to get sloppy. "Nim," he started, not really wanting to share his thoughts, to shatter the peace and tranquility of the moment, but once again, he felt she needed to know. Ignorance might be bliss, but it was also dangerous. "Back home..." He licked his lips nervously a moment before continuing. She already knew that the Bobby he knew back home was dead, but there was something she didn't know. He sighed, unsure how to continue.

He got that faraway look in his eyes that he always did when he was lost in a memory, whether pleasant or unpleasant. "I used to think this place was safe, that nothing could hurt us, so long as we were here. That Bobby would always be there, no matter what. But the truth is there is no safe place really, and pretending there is only makes you complacent."

She stared into his eyes, her mind taking the intuitive leap along the logical line as he spoke. "It happened here, didn't it?" she asked, her voice low and serious. "Bobby, your Bobby ....he died here, in his own house." A word rose from her short memory, a word Dean had used when he had first arrived in Chicago, when he had been set on convincing Brian and Bobby that he was human. "It's got something to do with those Leviathan things you never explained, doesn't it' You were so worried when we didn't know what you meant by Leviathan, and the way you reacted to seeing the yard as we drove up ....Dean, there's gotta be somewhere you feel safe."

"No," Dean replied quietly as he turned back to her, meeting her gaze as he tried to explain. She was close but not quite on the mark. "This place was the closest thing I had to a home growing up. Dad would drop us off here sometimes while he went off on a hunt. I used to resent it sometimes. I wanted so bad to be part of that, to make my dad proud. This place got to be like home after a while, and Bobby....In a lot of ways, he was a better father to me than my own dad. I didn't really figure that out until..." He trailed off a moment as his voice broke.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:23 EST
He paused a moment to gather his composure before continuing. "This is the place Sam and I always came back to. This is the place where we felt safe, where we felt most at home," he continued, his fingers trailing absently through her hair as he held her against him, getting that faraway look in his eyes again, unfocused on the present, haunted by a memory. "The last time I saw this place, it was a burned out wreck, destroyed by Leviathan. I thought they'd killed him, too, but they hadn't, not 'til later." He quieted again, remembering or reliving some memory or other.

Drawn back down to lay her head against his chest, Nimue listened as he spoke, tracing her fingertips over the anti-possession charm inked on his skin, absorbing what he said and how he said it, trying to find the thread that would tell her what he needed her to know. "Go on," she whispered softly, gazing into the gloom as his heart beat steady by her ear.

He shrugged his shoulders, gently jostling her a little. "Not much else to tell. They shot him. After all those years of hunting, all it took was one unlucky bullet, and he was gone." There was more to the story, but it seemed telling even that much had been draining. "We went to Rufus' cabin after that, but I learned no place is safe. Not really. He's dead back home, too." Who wasn't' It seemed most everyone Dean had ever cared about was gone, other than Sam.

And yet here, those losses hadn't happened. The world had moved on without Dean and his brother, true, but all those lives that had weaved themselves around him in his native reality still thrived here. And still wanted to have him a part of that complex tapestry. Bobby was just one among many, and though Dean had lost Sam and Castiel in the crossover, he had regained Bobby; he had found Nim, and she brought with her Brian. Now there was Bill, and Apollo, and who knew who else; a family that went far beyond blood and duty, stretching ahead and behind.

Nim didn't know what to say. There was nothing she could say that could possibly ease his pain, though that was exactly what she wished she could do. Her palm flattened against his chest, her eyes watching the spread of her fingers against his skin. "This is home now," she said finally, her voice tiny in the stillness. "And they're still here."

He exhaled a slow breath, feeling a small sense of relief now that he'd gotten that off his chest. For the most part, they were safe there, at least for now, but he needed her to know that one could never be too careful or they might regret it. He turned his gaze to her again, eyes suspiciously wet at the memory of Bobby's death, a small smile breaking through the tears. "Yeah, they are," he agreed, fingers tracing her cheek. Of all of them, she and Bobby were the ones he'd missed the most, and he was damned if he was going to let anyone take them from him again. "I missed you," he told her quietly, as he gazed into her eyes.

Somehow, she knew exactly what he meant. Dead in his reality, she'd been alive here for almost three years without memory of the life left behind her, and everyone who knew her had been aware of a great hole carved into her heart. "I didn't even know it was you I was missing," she told him softly, curling her fingers about his against her cheek. "But I just wasn't whole without you." Again she rose up to lean over him, rippling her fingers through the short crop of his hair. "No one's taking any of this away from you, baby. I won't let them."

"It's all gone in the future, Nim," he reminded her, eyes following her as she leaned over him, comforted by her touch, realizing that ever since her death, he'd felt empty and alone, as though nothing could fill the empty void her death had left in his heart. Not Lisa, not Ben, not even Sam. "I'm not going anywhere, Nim. This is where I belong now. Right here, with you and Bobby and Brian and whoever else is still alive in this crazy place. And I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure that Hades doesn't win, that our children have a future. I promise."

A slow smile took her expression at the fervor in his voice, pleased and, yes, relieved that he had drawn himself away from the dangerous precipice that could have thrown him deep into one of his darker moods. Her lips touched his tenderly, letting him taste her smile. "Then Hades better start counting his days, hadn't he" 'Cos that's just what I'm gonna do, too."

Knuckles rapped hard on the door suddenly, breaking the warm quiet that wrapped around them, and a voice Dean no doubt thought he would never hear again made itself known as the door opened. "You kids better cover up if there's anythin' in here you don't want me seeing."

All knowing smirk and practical nature, Ellen Singer stepped into the bedroom without any further warning, bearing a plate of sandwiches and a pair of beers. "Figured you wouldn't be getting downstairs once Bill folded and gave up where you were," she added, not really even glancing their way as she set the plate and bottles down on the dresser, moving across the room to drag open the curtains and let the evening sunlight shine in.

Dean glanced toward the door when he heard the knock, followed by a familiar voice he never thought he'd hear again. His face visibly paling in shock, he managed to tug the bedsheets up just in time to cover his and Nim's nakedness before the door opened, and a very much alive Ellen strode boldly into the room. "Son of a bitch," he muttered low, his favorite expletive.

"I heard that, Dean Winchester." Whatever else she was, Ellen's hearing certainly hadn't lost its edge over time. She turned back from the window, satisfied that they'd had a chance to cover themselves up by now, and levelled a pointed look on Dean. "You mind your mouth in my house. And for God's sake, try not to spend all your time in bed. We get it, you're in love." Smirking to herself once again, she nodded to the pair on the bed and strode across to the door once again, drawing it open and slipping through, closing it tight behind her.

Dean's mouth was moving but he wasn't saying anything, his face pale and looking like he'd just seen a ghost, which is exactly what it felt like. Not that he'd never seen any ghosts before, but not quite like this. It felt like the first time he'd laid eyes on Nimue all over again. Her house" Dean thought. But that meant that....No, it couldn't be. That was just too weird. Why hadn't Bobby said anything" Had he assumed Dean had known" Had Ellen known Dean's counterpart from this world, and if so, had Bobby explained that he wasn't the Dean they'd known" "What..." Dean trailed off, thoroughly confused, but thankfully, not feeling faint.

Nim, for her part, was staring at the closed door. Her startled eyes had followed the woman who had entered to the window and back to that door, fixed and focused and utterly bemused. Something had stirred deep in the forgotten blankness of her lost memory, something that was almost as profound as the connection between herself and Dean. This woman who seemed to know Dean, who said this was her house ....Nim knew her somehow. Or perhaps it was better to say that Jo had known her. Slowly, she dragged her staring eyes from the door to look at Dean. "Who was that?"

"It's..." Dean trailed off before he could even begin to explain. It was almost too weird having Bill and Bobby and Ellen all under the same roof; only Bill, apparently, hadn't married Ellen, and no one had even mentioned her before this. "It's..." He turned his eyes back to her again, unsure how to approach this. "It's-it's Ellen," he finally managed to stammer.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:27 EST
Dark eyes that he had said were so like her mother's widened in a sudden shock of comprehension, one hand rising to point a barely trembling finger toward the door. "You mean that ....that's Ellen?" she repeated, not sure whether she wanted to believe him or not. "That's ....she would've been my mom?" That explained a lot. She swallowed, thumping down onto her back suddenly, one hand pushing into her hairline. "I, uh ....I think I knew that. Bobby didn't say anything about her, did he?"

"No," he replied, equally confused, if not more so. Why had no one mentioned this before" But then, the only person he'd mentioned Ellen to thus far was Nimue, and Ellen's presence here was just as much a shock to her as it was to him. "Yeah, I mean..." He furrowed his brows, and shoved his fingers into the short cropped hair that was sticking up here and there atop his head. "She kinda still is....biologically speaking. I don't think she knows."

"You didn't tell Brian and Bobby what my mom's name was," Nim pointed out quietly, still trying to make sense of the lurch in her chest that had come with sight and sound of someone who should have been a complete stranger. "Even if you did, why would they guess that the Ellen they know is anything to do with the Ellen you knew?" Her hand dropped heavily to her stomach as she blew out a huff of breath, biting down hard on the flare of jealousy that came with the realization that Ellen had spoken exclusively to Dean, looked only at Dean. She clearly hadn't felt even the slightest tug toward recognizing the daughter she'd never had. Nim swallowed again, her head turning to look at Dean. "She's not with Bill, so ....does that mean she's with Bobby?"

And Dean felt a small selfish tug of jealousy himself. After all, Ellen and Jo had been about as close as a mother and daughter could get, and Ellen had been pretty clear about her feelings regarding her daughter getting close to a Winchester. He didn't really blame her for that. He still believed he'd been responsible for her death, just as his father had for Bill's, but things were very different here. Dean's mind wandered further as Nim suggested that Ellen was with Bobby. It was the same conclusion he'd come to. She had stated this was her house, but if that was true, then she must be with Bobby. Dean recalled once having been thrown into an alternate time line where Bobby and Ellen had been married, remembering how good they'd been for each other. "I guess," he replied, still trying to work it out in his mind.

"This is a good thing, right?" she ventured warily. "I mean, she's obviously on our side, and still alive, so ....that's good, I guess." Pushing herself to sit upright, legs bent over the end of the bed, she found herself looking down at the floor, confused and strangely close to tears. A voice was replaying itself in her mind, a voice she would have sworn only an hour before that she did not know and yet now was certain she knew almost better than her own. I'll love you forever, Joanna Beth ....Jo' ....That's okay ....that's okay. That's my good girl.

And even in the depths of her broken memory, Nim could hear the tears, the grief, the immediacy of the pain that pushed those words from the mouth of the woman who had spoken them. It had been difficult enough explaining that connection to Bill, who felt nothing and provoked nothing from her. Was she even going to be able to consider broaching the subject with Ellen"

"Nim," Dean ventured, gently trying to break into her thoughts, whatever they might be, sensing some sort of inner conflict and confusion. He pushed himself up beside her, the sheets pooling around his hips, and turned her to toward him, searching her face. Seeing how close she was to tears, guessing the emotional upheaval she must be feeling, he felt a swell of compassion welling up inside him, wanting to comfort her, if he could. "Are you okay?" he asked, uncertain. A tiny bit of envy tugged at him. Even if her parents didn't remember her, at least, they were alive.

She turned easily under the guidance of his hands, though her eyes were slower to meet his, clouded with grief at the pain she heard in her mind over and over again. Her hands rose to curl about his biceps, holding on tightly. "I think I ....I think I remember her dying," she admitted, reluctant uncertainty coloring her voice, her face flushed with the effort of not giving into the urge for tears. Her hands tightened, fingertips digging into his flesh. "Let's not tell her," she suggested, delving head first into her own cowardice, her fear of repeating that same conversation she had had with Bill only an hour or so earlier and getting the same lack of response. "She doesn't need to know. Does she?"

Dean felt his chest constrict at the look on her face and the mention of Ellen's death, which only served to remind of her own. He frowned sadly, unsure whether he should encourage her to tell Ellen the truth or not. It was bound to come out sooner or later, but it didn't have to be now. He knew he was going to have a hard time keeping it from Bobby. The man could see right through him most of the time. He tugged her hands away from his arms, pulling her instead into his embrace, not only because he felt she needed it, but for his own comfort.

Seeing Ellen again had shocked him to his core, but unlike Nim, he remembered her clearly, and he remembered the explosion that had taken her life. "Get going, Dean," she'd told him, just before he'd left. "Kick it in the ass." He closed his eyes, seeing the building explode once again right before his eyes, feeling the pain of loss and grief all over again, but they weren't dead. Not here, and for that he was thankful. "I don't know. You two were really close," he told her, wondering if they could ever be that close again.

They were trapped for a long moment, both of them, in memory and un-memory of the same event. Dean recalled with painful clarity; Nim remembered just the voice. But she clung to him as he gathered her into his arms once again, taking and giving that comfort without even a moment's hesitation. She shook her head lightly at his mention of how close her relationship with her mother had been. "She remembers you, not me," she said softly, closing her eyes as she forced her voice to stay even, not to betray the jealous tremor that ran through her. "Why hurt her with stories about a daughter she never had, when she obviously thinks of you as a son?"

"She doesn't remember me, Nim," he corrected her, pulling away from her so he could meet her gaze, holding her at arm's length. "I'm not the Dean she or Bobby or anyone else here remembers. We're both from another world, another reality. You and me. That's a connection no one else here shares. I don't know her. I don't share the same memories or experiences with her. The Ellen I know died. So did Bobby. You're..." His voice softened, almost saddened by the realization and yet, it made the bond between them seem even stronger. "You're the reason I'm here, Nimue. You. You're....you're my reason for living."

Held that way, she felt like a child being scolded, feeling shame for her jealous reaction to the way this Ellen seemed warm to him in a maternal way neither of them truly recalled from anyone. Her gaze lowered between them for a moment, color flushing through her cheeks as he spoke, understanding each word as it struck deep. All they really had was each other; all they could say with any certainty was theirs was right here in this room. Her hands lifted to curl about his wrists as her eyes found his once again. "I'm being childish, aren't I?"

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:31 EST
Dean's hold on Nim's shoulders loosened, hoping he'd made his point, as her hands found his wrists, and he dropped his hands from her shoulders, taking her hands in his. He wasn't trying to scold her, but just get through to her, make her understand that no matter how much people seemed to know him, it was the Dean from this world they really knew, not him. "Not childish," he replied. "Things are just different here. Ellen and I were never close. I don't think she liked me much. Probably blamed me for getting you into hunting." He wasn't sure how much of her previous life was still buried somewhere in her mind or how much she wanted to know, not wanting to shock her with too much information all at once.

"That Ellen thinks she knows you," Nim reminded him gently, rubbing her fingers through his fondly. "The way she looked at you, the way she spoke to you ....it doesn't matter what Bobby's told her, she saw the Dean she knew. I kinda think that's something you and she are gonna have to talk about." She understood, of course she did. But it was hard, separating what she didn't remember from what she'd been told and what she knew and saw. She drew his hands up to her lips, brushing kisses to his knuckles. "We should eat."

Dean frowned, realizing that those who had once cared for him here must be glad to have him back, even if he wasn't the same Dean they'd known and loved. Did it really matter that he wasn't the same Dean' He didn't care that Bobby wasn't the same Bobby. Did it make a difference or didn't it' He wasn't sure and he got that look on his face once again that he always got when he was brooding too much on something that couldn't be changed. Right then and there, he decided that Ellen deserved to know the truth about himself and about the daughter she'd never known. Dean had Bobby back, and Nim deserved to have a chance with Ellen, even if neither remembered the other. He blinked out of his thoughts as he felt her lips brush his knuckles, and he smiled finally, pushing his worries away for now. "I assume you mean food."

"This time?" His smile brought an answering curve to her own lips, the worry and concern dropping from her expression easily as she leaned close to nip a kiss to the end of his nose. "Yes, I mean food this time. Can't have you passing out on me now, can I?" She chuckled, tucking the sheet about herself belatedly to stand and reach for the sandwiches and beer Ellen had brought for them. They could deal with the whys and wherefores later, when the house was even more crowded than it was now. Adding Brian and an Olympian god or two to the mix wasn't going to make things anymore uncomfortable, was it"

He'd thought he was going to pass out when Ellen came waltzing in the room, but he kept that thought to himself, shoving it aside once again. He smiled as she nipped the end of his nose and watched while she reached for the sandwiches and beer, making no move to help her as she seemed to have things well enough in hand, preferring to admire the view. He wasn't quite sure why she was tucking the sheet around herself, now that they were once again alone, unless she was worried someone might interrupt. Somehow, this thought amused him. She'd been less than modest several times in the car. Why she was feeling the need to cover up now was beyond him. "Maybe I should get a lock for the door," he remarked, with an amused smirk.

She smirked faintly, lowering back down onto the bed with the plate and bottles. "You really think Bobby would let you stick a lock on one of his guest rooms?" she asked in quiet amusement, though the idea was appealing. Safe though this place felt, the fact that just anyone could and apparently would walk in on them at any time had left her with an unusual sense of shyness. Hence covering herself up, despite the only eyes to see her being Dean's.

Once the sandwiches had presented themselves, he made a grab for one and took a huge bite, obviously famished. One would think the man hadn't eaten in days, rather than hours. "I think Bobby would agree to just about anything, if it's put to him the right way," Dean grinned around a mouthful of sandwich. He wasn't really planning on asking him anyway. If he wanted a lock on the door, he'd simply do it himself. As for himself, he was less than modest, the sheet covering what it needed to cover, but not much else.

For herself, Nim was a little less caveman when it came to filling the hole, taking a smaller bite as she curled up on the end of the bed, almost swallowed up by the sheet. "The right way?" she asked, licking crumbs from her lips. "Is that code for telling him after you've done it?" The tension had returned to her shoulders, despite the weariness that still seeped through her. This was, after all, Bobby's house, and she was still a little wary of the man. Bill and Ellen just served to make the prospect of socializing that little bit more intimidating. She would feel easier when Brian arrived.

He took another huge bite, chewing and swallowing before answering. "You just have to make him think it's his idea, that's all." A third bite was taken, and that half of the sandwich had disappeared like magic. "I'll say one thing for Ellen - she makes a mean sandwich." He flashed another grin as he reached for the other half, too hungry or too oblivious to notice her tensing just yet. He took another bite, taking a lean back as he worked on the other half of the sandwich.

"How the hell are you going to make him think that putting a lock on a guest room for our privacy is his idea?" she asked in a laughing tone, much slower to finish the half she held in her hands than he had been with his own. It was odd, but she didn't seem to have any appetite any more. Perhaps that should have concerned her - emotions had never taken a toll like this on her before now - but she dismissed the thought easily, chewing on her mouthful. "Without inviting him to walk in on us."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-08-04 08:36 EST
"Simple," he remarked, pausing to chew and swallow the remainder of the sandwich, making quick work of it. "I either appeal to his need to protect us, or I tell him I'll leave the door open and let him hear everything that goes on in here." That last part elicited a teasing smirk. More than likely, he'd just be honest with the man, but it was more fun to tease her than tell her the truth. He reached for a beer, twisted off the cap, and handed it to her, before doing the same for himself, holding the bottle toward her in a gesture of celebration. "Cheers."

Incredulity lit up her eyes as he spoke, her reaction utterly unconsidered before she realized he was teasing her. A flush touched her cheeks, embarrassed that he had caught her out, as she swallowed the last of the half she'd been eating, taking the beer from him. "You're an a$$," she informed him fondly, touching the neck of her beer to his. "Cheers yourself." Dark eyes watched him as she tipped the bottle to her lips, taking a slow swallow. He seemed so relaxed here, so much more than he had been elsewhere. That, in itself, was worth a little discomfort.

He chuckled at the name-calling, tapping his beer bottle lightly to hers, just the way he and Sam had done time and again. "So I've been told," he agreed, tipping the bottle back for a long swallow. The cold, bitter stuff went down easily, washing the sandwich down and quenching a day-long thirst. He wasn't quite as at ease as he seemed, but sensing her discomfort, he was trying not to let things bother him for now. There would be plenty of time for worrying later.

"I'm sure you've been called worse," Nim laughed back at him, fingertips playing with the label on the bottle in her hands. The remaining half-sandwich lay forgotten on the plate between them, her eyes watching as a single fingernail peeled the corner of that label free. A moment later, her thumb smoothed it back into place as a quiet yawn cracked her pensive smile. "Sorry," she apologized, shaking her head in amusement at her own sleepiness. "I guess I didn't sleep as long as I thought I did."

Dean took another swig of his beer, brows furrowed as he studied her carefully, noting the yawn and the look of weariness and worry. She didn't seem quite herself and hadn't ever since they'd arrived, though he wasn't sure why. Future Nim would have handled all of this without a care, but she wasn't Future Nim, not yet, maybe never. His gaze darted to the journal on the nightstand - the key to everything, it seemed. The answer to all his questions - and possibly hers - might be found within those pages, but he had yet to find time to actually read it. Tonight, he promised himself. I'm not sleeping until it's read. He looked back at her, frowning thoughtfully. "You should get some rest."

How could she possibly explain to him how unsettled she felt right now" Knowing she was number one on the enemy's hitlist was terrifying enough; but somehow, each new face or old face, each hit that came with knowing or not knowing something that was obviously important was making her feel isolated, cut off from everyone. Maybe it was just a matter of time before she felt more at ease here. "You're right," she agreed, giving in too easily to the suggestion. Her arm reached over to set her barely touched beer on the dresser as her eyes touched on his. "I'm sorry, I know I'm off. I'll get over it."

His frowned deepened, looking concerned. Something was bothering her, but he wasn't sure what it was, and he wasn't sure if she'd tell him if he asked. Maybe it was all catching up with her, at last, everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew she'd been through a lot. Hell, she'd almost been killed, but he'd never been very good at comforting, or so he thought, and he wasn't quite sure what to do to make her feel better. He couldn't promise they were safe there. He couldn't promise her anything, except that he loved her and he'd do his damnedest to make sure nothing happened to her, but maybe that was all that she needed. He turned briefly to set his beer on the nightstand, before turning back to her and lifting the covers to allow her to snuggle down beside him.

"Don't worry about it. You have nothing to apologize for," he assured her, thinking it was him who should be doing the apologizing, for crashing in on her world, for dragging her into all this, for being the reason she was number one on Hades' hit list. Was it his fault or was it the gods who were to blame" Either way, she was alive, and he was at least grateful for that.

Ordinarily, she might have teased him about tucking her into bed, but for now, she just seemed ....tired. Bone-deep, soul-wrenchingly weary, as though she'd been buffeted about too much and couldn't take much more. What made it was worse was how sudden it seemed, how she'd failed to give even a hint of this broken turmoil from the first moment she'd felt it begin, in Wichita. It seemed as though some things she just couldn't bull her way through with eternal optimism. Not yet, anyway. Her future self was hardened to these hits; Dean was stuck with the infinitely more vulnerable version of the woman he loved curling up close to him beneath the covers. "I'll be okay," she promised softly, her eyes blinking with slow surrender to the weariness coursing through her, still trying to ease his worry.

He realized in that moment just how vulnerable she really was, and yet how resilient, strong, stubborn to a fault, so like Jo, no matter what she called herself. It was his job, his duty, not only to love her, but take care of her, protect her, keep her safe. To do what he'd failed doing not once, but twice - once in the past and once in the future. He traced her cheek with a fingertip, gently brushing her hair back from her face, as he leaned over to press a protective kiss against her forehead. "I love you," he whispered quietly, three little words that seemed to so inadequately express how much he loved and care for her. "Get some rest. You're safe here," he told her, despite his doubts.

A tiny smile softened her features as her eyes sank closed, a low sigh escaping her lips as she nestled into the pillow under her cheek. For a moment, there was nothing, no sign that she had even heard him. Then her lips moved in an almost silent answer. "I love you back."

He tucked the bedsheets around her, though it wasn't cold in the house, more to make her feel secure than to keep her warm, watching quietly as she drifted off to sleep, the facade falling away, revealing the weariness and worry that he'd tried to keep from her. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I swear," he promised silently, without speaking, knowing without a doubt that he'd sacrifice his own life in a second if it meant saving hers, no matter how much she'd protest, just as she would for him. Maybe that was what love was all about, after all - caring for someone else more than you cared about yourself.

((Who else is going to crawl out of the woodwork, do you think" Azazel" :grin: Always and forever uberliciously massive thanks to Dean's player.))