((Contains adult situations. Do not read if this offends.)) _____________

Exhaustion can creep up on a person in a few different ways. It can be physical, a simple matter of having pushed too far too fast for too long until your body cannot take it any longer. It can be mental, a case of your mind overworked until it can do nothing but shut down for a while. Or it can be emotional, when feelings overload the senses and the body simply gives in.

It was this last that had knocked Nim into slumber almost as soon as she lay down in her bed, wrapped around Dean where he had fallen beside her. It was her bed, purely because she knew for a fact it was bigger and more comfortable than any of the guest beds, and she wanted Dean to reinforce in his mind just how much she wanted him with her, even here in the only private space she had. With confessions over and sleep settling over them, the still of the night was silent, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He hadn't resisted when she'd led him to her room, quietly submitting, too exhausted to argue anymore if he hadn't wanted to be there. Nothing more was going to happen tonight, both of them too emotionally drained to do anything but sleep, but he was there to lend her comfort and vice versa. It was an odd feeling to share a bed with someone who wasn't going to leave with the morning light and who demanded nothing but simply wanting to be close. He hadn't felt such a feeling as this since he'd asked Cas to scrub Lisa's memory of his very existence. Too tired for words, he'd fallen asleep almost immediately - a rarity for him - wrapped in her embrace, for the first time in a long time, feeling safe and content.

When the disturbance came, it began quietly, fear to shake the pre-dawn darkness. Nim shifted in her sleep, a faint frown touching her face as she rolled away, holding his arm beneath her even as she unconsciously turned her back to him. The shadows of a town she did not know had returned to haunt her subconscious mind, the sense of something unseen but deadly stalking her through those deserted streets. A quiet hiss escaped her sleeping lips as her frown deepened, her body tensing in recognition of the danger in her dreams.

He was too lost in his own nocturnal wanderings to realize she was falling into the nightmare that was more memory than dream. He had tried to explain what had happened, albeit brokenly, when he'd first arrived, but understanding why she had the nightmares wasn't enough to put them to rest. As for himself, he understood only too well what it was to wake screaming in the night, heart pounding in terror, but had somehow learned to accept that nightmarish part of his existence, grateful for the peaceful nights when there were no dreams.

The frown deepened further, her sleeping face twisting into a grimace of terror as within her dreaming mind she turned and saw Dean, as clear as day, falling beneath the impact of those unseen creatures. Her legs moved against the covers, mimicking the stride of her dream self as she fired, putting herself directly into the danger for the sake of a man she knew now that she loved above and beyond any thought or wisdom.

He wasn't part of that dream, at least, not consciously, and yet he was - an integral part of her very being, of the reason she'd died, the how and why she'd found herself here, their lives, their souls inextricably bound together by some greater force neither knew anything about. He seemed to sense her disquiet, even in sleep, stirring in the bed beside her, slow to waken, having dreams of his own, not so very different from hers.

She rolled again, restless with movement as the terror of her nightmare reasserted itself, falling onto her back as within the dreamscape that filled her mind, she turned too late. The unseen body knocked her down, sulphur and scorching heat filling her senses, a terrifying growl warning her of what was to come. And as the claws ripped deep, the sleeping Nim arched in pain, her lips parting in a loud scream as the pain and fear erupted from her throat, her arms flailing as though the hell hound were there now, crouched over her as she slept.

Startled immediately to wakefulness at the sound of that scream, Dean's eyes flew open and he bolted upright in bed, turning to the screaming young woman beside him, reaching out to catch hold of her flailing arms and pull her into his arms. "Nim! Nim!" he called, trying to wake her, reverting to the name he had always known her by, the name of the girl she was in the dream. "Jo! It's me. It's Dean. It's alright. It's just a dream." No such thing as just a dream, he thought to himself. It wasn't just a dream, and they both knew it; it was a memory.

Perhaps it was strange that in the grip of that dream, she didn't answer to Nim, but to Jo. But despite her struggling, the harshness of her screaming as she flailed in his arms, the moment he called to her using the name she did not recall, brown eyes snapped open, staring into his with wild fear and unadulterated relief. Her hands moved to grip him tightly as she gasped for breath, twisting to press her face against his chest even as her palm fell to her left side, dragging her shirt high to make absolutely certain that those ugly scars were still just that ....closed, healed scars.

"It hurts," she whimpered softly, yet there were no tears as she clutched to him. "Don't go ....please don't go ..."

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Brian's voice called warily through the wood. "Everythin' all right in there?"

Dean wrapped her in his embrace, safe in his arms, heart pounding as if it had been him running from the hell hounds. He knew only too well what it felt like to be ripped apart by unseen teeth and claws, to feel yourself being torn to shreds, the hot sulphur stench of hell choking you to death. He felt himself shudder at the memory of it and pulled her closer, squeezing his own eyes shut, hating the fact that she had suffered what he'd suffered and because of him. "Shhh....It's alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He stroked her hair in an attempt to soothe her, to calm her fears. He wished he could tell her there was nothing to be afraid of, that it was just a dream, but it would be a lie.

"It's okay!" Dean called, hearing Brian's voice at the door. "It's okay," he repeated, quieter, more to her than to Brian, pressing a protective kiss against her forehead.

"All right." Despite the gravity of Nim's nightmares, Brian sounded as though he was smiling as he answered, the creak of the floorboards betraying his return to his own room.

Shaking, Nim clung to Dean as he held her, letting the sense of him surround and calm her so much faster than Brian had ever been able to. Slowly, as the fear receded under the very real presence of the man wrapped around her, she lifted her head, returning the press of his lips in an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw as she looked up at Dean with eyes no longer gripped with terror and pain.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the hand that had fallen to her side rising to curl against his cheek as she pressed another kiss to his cheek, a third to the corner of his mouth.

He brushed her hair back from her face, fingertips stroking her cheek, gazing into those warm, dark eyes of hers. Both brows arched in surprise at her suggestion, but he only laughed. "Naughty schoolgirls aren't really my thing. I'm more into playing doctor." He waggled his brows mischievously, having a hard time keeping his eyes focused on her face, now that they'd slipped into flirtation. What she was wearing didn't leave all that much to the imagination. Still in his jeans and t-shirt, he had at least left his boots on the floor beside the bed.

"Oh, really?" Her grin softened even as she giggled at the suggestive waggle of his brows, unable to tear her eyes from his even if she had wanted to as her body shifted against his unconsciously. "Maybe I should see the doctor, then. I have an itch that just won't go away." Her eyes twinkled playfully back at him. Usually she felt the need to get away from her bed in the wake of her nightmares; tonight, she didn't want to move away at all.

A single brow ticked upwards at her reply. "Oh' And just where does it itch?" he asked, as he relaxed a little, allowing his gaze to drift over her admiringly. One hand moved up her arm to flick her hair back behind a bare shoulder, and he leaned close to brush his lips against that same shoulder. "Is it here?"

"Mmm ....a little." Even that teasing brush of his mouth to her skin was enough to set her alight for him, glowing in his arms with the anticipation of more, though she suspected he wasn't truly going to go so very far. Her lips brushed his ear as she murmured to him in a quiet purr, "Of course, it moves every now and then. You're gonna have to chase it down."

He smiled at her, a genuine smile, the old Dean Winchester smile, before his whole life had gone south. "I have a pretty good idea where it itches the most." He pushed her gently back onto the bed, one hand resting at her side, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt. He had waited so long for this moment. He'd dreamed about it, fantasized about it. So far, she had not disappointed, just the opposite, in fact.

His face hovering over her, close to hers, he hesitated. They'd arrived at yet another defining moment, a crossroads. There really would be no turning back from here. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, green eyes solemnly gazing into hers.

His smile, so unexpectedly warm and carefree, brought an echoing expression to her own face, a brightness there shared with him without a second thought as he eased her onto her back, her laughter soft but rich in answer to his teasing comment on her itch. Laid back beneath him, she felt that burning, twisting need ignite beneath the curl of his fingers so close to her skin, a gentle undulation of her spine offering him everything without words.

She stared up into his eyes, lips parted with breathless anticipation even as he asked the question that would set them on this course or another, dependent on her answer. "Never been more sure," she promised in a low voice, so close she could taste his breath on the air. "Are you?"

He gazed into those warm, soft eyes of brown, as if he might find all the answers to everything his heart had ever desired there, holding his breath as he waited for her answer, pulse quickening with anticipation of what was to come."Never been more sure about anything in my life," he replied, softly, keeping his voice low, for her ears alone, unsure how thin the walls were here.

They were pretty insulated from anyone else hearing them. Nim's room was at the end of the hallway, and of course, the room that lay beside it had been claimed by Dean and thus lay empty. But the quiet was so intimate, so deeply touching, that she emulated it even as she arched up to him, drawing her palm with strangely tentative longing over his shoulder, fingers gripping his shirt. Her lips just touched his as she gazed into his green eyes, seeing herself in his gaze with tender affection. "So glad you said that."

He realized even as he said it how much he meant it. Somehow, deep inside, he'd known it had always been Jo, no one else, ever since they'd first met. Oh, he'd tried to move on, to forget her. He'd slept with other women, he'd even spent a year living a mostly normal life with Lisa, but he always ended up coming back to Jo, for some reason. It didn't matter what she called herself - deep down, she remembered him; deep down Nim was Jo. "I don't wanna lose you again. I'm not gonna lose you again," he told her, leaning close, brushing her hair back from her face, even as he lips grazed his, igniting a fire in his heart.

"I promise." She closed that distance between them - again, it was Nim who made that first move, who made a beginning in the midst of the heated agony of almost, where Jo had never so much as tried. Brown eyes fell closed as her lips melted into his, that first touch soft, chaste, undemanding of anything but what he could and would give. Her hands skimmed down over his sides, tentative, too restless to hold a single place, loving and nervous and eager.

Her touch, her kiss kindled the fire that was burning inside him, the yearning for more than just kisses. He felt as though he'd been waiting for this moment for so long, but he didn't want to rush her; he wanted to savor each and every moment, every tender caress, every languid kiss, now that they had found each other again. He kissed her slowly, demanding nothing in return, even as his fingers slid the strap of her shirt down her bare shoulder.

In the slow shock of feeling the floodgates opened with no foreseeable need to close, she gasped softly as Dean returned her kiss, her lips parting to offer more, inviting him to take what she offered with the merest suggestion of a moan that could have been his name on her breath. Electricity seemed to flash from his fingertips over her skin as the material at her shoulder shifted ....such a small step toward naked vulnerability, but so profound in the same moment.

This wasn't about comfort. It wasn't about sating that physical need, though that played its part. This was Nim making her promise, and making sure he knew it was going to stick, whatever came. And in the grip of that newfound confidence, she rose beneath him, fingers finding a single button to begin the longed for task of peeling away the layers he hid himself with.

Being with her was like the culmination of a dream, one he'd kept to himself for a long time, one he'd thought would never, could never come true. But here they were - the two of them - sharing their deepest secrets, fulfilling their deepest wish, unaware and uncaring how all of this had been orchestrated by forces beyond their reckoning. And would it have mattered if they knew" Probably not. Dean deepened the kiss as she rose against him, fingers sliding that strap all the way down her arm, his touch grazing her flesh, aware of her playing with the buttons of his jeans, pulse leaping with excitement.

It wasn't just about wanting to sleep with her. He'd slept with plenty of women before. If that was all it was, he could have had anyone. This was about something so much deeper, more profound. It was about discovering each other, it was giving themselves to each other, it was about possessing each other.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders as she sank down beside him, drawing her close, tilting his head to press his lips against the top of her head. "You're special to me," he told her in quiet contradiction of her statement. "I don't know why I was brought here either, unless..." Should he tell he what he suspected"

She smiled faintly as he kissed her hair, somehow knowing despite her lack of memory that this soft contradiction was about as effusive as Dean was likely to get on the subject of his feelings. Her hand rose to stroke her knuckles against his chest as he spoke, her head tilting back to let her look into his face. "Unless" You got a theory already?"

"I'm not sure I'd call it a theory, but I've got an idea." He rested his free hand against his chest while his other arm held her close, staring up at the ceiling in thought, sorting through what he already knew and trying to make sense of it all. "I think maybe I was brought here because of you, but I'm not sure why or by who." He turned his head toward her to meet her gaze, wondering if anything he was saying or about to say made any sense. "It seems to me that whatever or whoever brought you here wants to keep you safe. They saved you from..." He trailed off again, not really wanting to think about her dying again.

"They saved you, brought you here..." He reached over with his free hand to pluck up the pendant from around her neck between his thumb and forefinger. "Gave you the ring and this....I mean....Of all places to end up, you end up here, with a hunter, who knows how to keep you safe. Two years later and here I am. It's too coincidental to be chance. Someone orchestrated it. The question is who and why."

Her frown deepened as he spoke, obviously uncomfortable with the idea that their translocations were somehow entirely based around her, around something that made her special to an unknown benefactor. She shivered a little, unable to help the thought that they could be being watched right at that moment. "I don't like not knowing," she admitted quietly, rolling onto her side to curl close against him. "It's worse than not knowing who I am."

He mirrored her movement and rolled to his side to face her, letting go of the amulet to press the back of his hand against her cheek. "I know who you are, and I..." He frowned faintly as he came close to telling her he loved her, wondering why he didn't just say it. He hadn't said those words to anyone in years. Oh, he'd told people he cared, but love" He couldn't remember when he'd mentioned the word love, not even to his brother. It just wasn't something a Winchester said, not since him Mom had died anyway. He noticed her shiver and thought she was cold, reaching down to draw the blankets up over them both. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Nim."

"I know." She nestled close, drawing her arms about his waist as her lips touched his skin once more. No matter the reason for their being there, no matter who or what had orchestrated this strange reunion, no matter even the identity of the benefactor who had kept her alive for unknown intent, Dean was there now, and Nim had no intention of ever letting him go.

He quieted, leaving the rest of what he was thinking unsaid for now, allowing her to drift off to restful sleep. He was tired, but the wheels in his head were turning now, going over clues, possibilities, and what to do about it all. It wasn't that he wanted to go home so much, as it was about needing to know what had happened and why.

It wasn't long before the young woman he knew as Jo, but was learning to know as Nim, was breathing softly and evenly, asleep at his side. He tucked the blankets up over her and himself, brushing a protective kiss against her forehead before setting himself beside her to wait for morning. He needed to talk to Bobby and Brian and sort some things out before he decided what to do next about this little mystery, but he had a feeling he was going to have to go back to the scene of the crime, as it were. Back to the beginning, back to Lawrence, Kansas, where it had all started over twenty-five years ago.

((Humungus thank yous to Dean's player!))