Topic: What Will Not Be (AU)

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 13:43 EST
((Contains reference to adult situations. You have been warned. ;-) )) ______________

There was nothing controlled about the chaos Dean found himself returned to. The cellar of that cabin outside Fremont was lit by the flickering remains of a dying flare, casting long shadows with each movement of the demon/human hybrids all around him. Red-eyed, tattooed hybrids that moved past him, barely giving him a second glance, every one of them showing signs of bullet or blade, attesting to the fight that had been raging in the gloom.

"Dean!" The voice was Apollo's, the low rasp almost familiar now but for the rough suggestion of pain in the tone. The god was pressed back into a corner of the small cellar by the crush of hybrid bodies, silver/blue eyes peering into the deeper darkness beneath the stairs behind Dean. "Nim ....she's back there -"

He didn't need to pinpoint the woman's exact location. The sharp report of a handgun still sounded periodically from that thicker darkness, between distinctively feminine sounds of pain. A snarl sounded from the knot of hybrids crowding into the small space beneath the stairs to the cabin above; Nim cried out as cloth and flesh ripped, and her gun was thrust out of the darkness to clatter harmlessly at Dean's feet. A moment later, the woman herself came into view ....at speed.

Her impact against the wall was hard enough to knock breath and consciousness from her, her body slumping heavily to the ground, bleeding from a dozen or more scratches and bites, her clothing torn and bloodied. Every hybrid turned their red eyes onto her, surging forward with the clear intent to kill, urged onward by an incoherent groan from their midst.

Thrust suddenly back to 2012 without any real warning and finding himself, just as Death had promised, right in the middle of a fight, Dean had very little time to think about what was going on around him. He heard Apollo's voice calling his name from the corner, telling him where to find Nim, who Dean now knew was the target of the attack, not himself.

"Where's the Alpha?" Dean shouted over the din of the fray, wishing he'd taken the time to read what Nimue had written in the journal before returning here. He'd thought there'd be plenty of time for that once he'd returned, choosing instead to spend every last minute with her and Sammy, and now he was berating himself for not being better prepared.

Before Apollo could reply to his question, Dean's attention was drawn to Nim's hiding place, but before he could reach her, she was being thrown like a rag doll across the room to impact with the wall, her gun clattering at his feet. He watched for only a split second, unable to stop what had happened, wishing Death had sent him back just a few minutes earlier, but nothing could be done about that now. Anger flared and with it came the adrenaline rush Dean always felt when going into a fight, giving him the courage and the strength to do what needed to be done, no matter the outcome.

With the sweep of his left hand, he plucked Nim's gun up from the floor, while his right reached for the one safely hidden inside his jacket. "Aim for the head!" he shouted again, hoping Apollo would hear him and do something other than just witness the carnage around him. Dean set his jaw as he lifted both weapons, not taking the time to see if Nim's was still loaded, and squeezed both triggers, aiming at the head of the hybrids, making every shot count, the first aimed for those nearest Nimue as he attempted to clear a path toward her from the spot where he'd made his arrival.

Crushed into his corner, Apollo roared at the sight of the young woman he'd made a point of guarding tossed aside as though she were made of nothing more substantial than rags. His eyes blazed silver once again, illuminating the cellar as he brought the two guns in his own hands to bear. An inexperienced gunman, nonetheless his shots seemed to count more than miss, aimed to help Dean clear that path toward the fallen Nim as the god pushed himself through the crowd of hybrid creatures. Each bullet to the head took one down, dropping them for a precious minute or two, quieting the raging attack that seethed around them. "Which one is the Alpha?"

How the hell should I know? Dean thought, annoyed. With very little time to explain, he shouted the only answer that made any sense. "The one that's different from all the rest! The one that's giving orders!" Each shot met its mark, downing one hybrid after another as Dean cut a slow path toward Nim, but he knew that unless they killed the Alpha, the others would only stay down for a short while, affording them little time or means for escape. Dean threw a glance around, looking for the one he heard grunting what sounded to him like orders, but the glance cost him, as one of the hybrids ripped into his jacket, claws drawing blood.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, spinning around to squeeze off a point blank shot at his attacker's head. He was slowly inching his way toward Nim, but unless they found the Alpha, it wouldn't matter.

Despite her barely conscious state, Nim still let out another cry of pain as she was hoisted up from the floor by a strangely unmarked hybrid. The red eyes burned with some form of intelligence as they raked over the young woman's limp form, holding her up against the wall as others reached for her limbs, clearly intending to pull her apart if only they could.

With an almighty heave, Apollo thrust himself to Dean's side, kicking aside the body of his latest victim as the hybrid went down. "There," he panted, surprised by how quickly he had become breathless in a battle where he dared not use the abilities that made him powerful. He pointed with Dean's own Beretta to where Nim was in very mortal danger. "There's your Alpha. Go - go!"

Just as Apollo reached his side to point it out, Dean spied the hybrid who was different than all the rest pull Nim up off the floor, looking as though he was ready to tear her to pieces, and Dean surged forward, stepping over fallen bodies as if they were nothing but offal, levelling a shot at every hybrid who got in his way. Nim's gun clicked uselessly, and he tossed it aside. He carefully aimed the gun in his right hand, levelled at the head of the one he assumed was the Alpha, and squeezed off a shot.

The Alpha rocked on his feet, his grasp on the female hunter loosened enough that Nim slumped back down the sheer dirt wall, crumpling as quickly as the hybrids that had been reaching for her in the first place. A yell from behind Dean suggested that, for all his enthusiasm, Apollo had been knocked out of the fight temporarily, a crash of bodies against the floor evidence to that effect. Unlike the tattooed hybrids, the Alpha did not fall with a bullet in his skull. He simply paused, as though absorbing the shot, and bent once again to reach for Nim's unconscious form.

Well, at least, it's stupid, Dean thought. Too dumb or too focused to turn and defend itself, though it was little comfort as Dean's back was now exposed, and he felt the rake of claws as two of the hybrids tried to take him down. Groaning in pain, he hesitated just a moment, lowering the gun as he turned to face his attackers. As if it wasn't bad enough that his shoulder was aching, he was now bleeding from several fresh wounds, though they were nothing compared to Nim's injuries. More pissed than afraid, he squeezed off another shot, taking one down, just as another knocked the gun from his hand and shoved him aside with enough force to send him sprawling against the fireplace.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 13:46 EST
Fully unconscious now, Nim was definitely a ragdoll in the hands of the less than intelligent Alpha as he reached down once again, dragging her up from the floor by the hair this time. Long nails extended toward her throat in dull threat. From the floor, another gunshot exploded, a second bullet catching the Alpha above the ear as Apollo dragged himself out from under the weight of his own attackers. All around them, the hybrids lay slumped, some just beginning to come around once again. If they were ever going to take the opportunity and get out, it was now.

Knocked senseless for just a few seconds, Dean felt his hand meet something that felt smooth and made of metal and realized what it was. A slightly c*cky smile touched his lips as his fingers found purchase and wrapped themselves around the smooth wooden handle and brought the axe around to hack the hand off the first hybrid who got close.

Dean had taken an entire nest of vampires down in just such a manner once and found himself revelling in the feel of the axe as it chopped off every limb that dared to come close, hacking his way through the mindless hybrids, heedless of claws that reached to tear into cloth and flesh. His mind focused on the kill, a red haze of rage blinding his sight, Dean shouted in fury, throwing his entire body behind the killing blow as he brought the axe back and swung it around to hack the head off the neck of the Alpha Hybrid.

There was no cry, no spurt of blood. The flesh he cleaved apart with the axe was already dead, the wound splitting open as the Alpha's head spilled from its neck to release a swirling red/black shadow, billowing high into a cloud that clung to the ceiling of the root cellar. As the decapitated body fell, the dead hand tight in Nim's hair dragging her down with it once more, a mass groan of pain erupted from the other hybrids scattered throughout the cellar. Red and black smoke-like substances rushed from open wounds and mouths and eyes, rising to join the cloud that hung over them, which abruptly seemed to snap inward on itself, disappearing from sight and sound. And all around Dean now lay the bodies of the not so recently dead, the stench of decomposing flesh washing over them all.

Apollo gagged, his face pale. "Do all possessed humans smell so appalling?"

Once the Alpha fell and the rest of the hybrids with him, Dean sagged, lowering the axe, and pressing a hand against the wall to hold himself up, overcome with nausea. "Get her out," he managed to tell Apollo before doubling over and losing the contents of his stomach on the floor of the cottage.

He didn't bother to acknowledge Apollo's question with a reply, annoyed that he had the gall to ask such a thing in light of their current circumstances, but he held his tongue for now, mostly because he was too busy getting sick. Once his stomach was empty, he felt a little better. The smell was still enough to gag a maggot, but there was nothing left in his stomach to regurgitate. He coughed once, wiping the back of a hand against his mouth, feeling like he'd just been beat on by the Green Bay Packers, but thankful he was alive.

The god wasn't much more in control of his gag reflex than Dean was, but he had an advantage in being able to distance himself from the physical experiences of his vessel. Slightly green around the gills but not yet on the verge of vomiting, Apollo dragged himself to his feet, bending to gather Nim up from her slump against the wall, cradling her in his arms as he mounted the stairs up to the main floor of the cabin itself. It was only when he got to the top that he realised she was covered in thickly congealed blood that smelt almost as bad as the body it had come from. Not even he could ignore that. With a noise that suggested his bowel was trying to turn itself inside out, he all but dropped the unconscious hunter in favor of emptying his own stomach in a corner of that upper room.

Dean forced himself to straighten and survey the scene, spying Nim's duffle in a corner of the room. Shuffling through the bodies, he covered his mouth and nose with a sleeve as he retrieved the duffle, shouldering it, and moving through the sprawl of bodies to find the weapons that had been discarded or dropped on the floor. He heard Apollo retching somewhere over his head and couldn't help but hide a smirk. Welcome to my world, he thought with a wry smile. His thoughts then turned to Nim and the smile quickly faded, worried he'd arrived too late to save her. He picked his way through the room and up the stairs to the first floor.

A low groan from the wall where Apollo had left her attested to the fact that Nim was beginning to stir, her face crumpling in pain and vague disgust at the smell her nostrils were quick to inform her of. Of course, up here the stench was less, but she was covered in the Alpha's blood as well as her own, the copper of living blood mixing with the rot of dead to offer up a smell that did nothing for her wish to be conscious. She half-rolled onto her side, pressing her forehead weakly against the dusty boards as Apollo retched and heaved not far away.

Dean shuffled up the stairs, the duffle against his unwounded shoulder, his Beretta safely stowed back in his jacket pocket where it belonged. He glanced briefly to Apollo, slightly annoyed with the god for not doing as Dean had instructed. Movement from Nim and the sound of her groaning drew Dean's attention, and he went to her side, scooping her up in his arms and doing what Apollo had failed to do - get her out of there.

Barely conscious she might be, but Nim knew it was Dean scooping her up, cradling her close. Her arms rose without conscious thought, curling about his neck as she groaned softly, relief flooding through her. "Y'back," was forced out painfully from a mouth reluctant to form words as she hung in his grasp, jostled with each step.

As they passed him, Apollo took control of his vessel's natural reactions once again, pushing to his feet to stumble out behind the hunters. Feeling somewhat as though he had let the side down with his human reaction to what was, essentially, just a smell, he took steps to redeem himself, turning on the porch to flick what appeared to be a small ball of fire across the cabin and down into the root cellar. A moment later, flames roared up, burning brighter and hotter than any fire lit by man.

"I'm back," Dean acknowledged, his voice gentling as he addressed her, anger fading away, replaced by worry and grief at the wounds that were scattered over her body, ignoring the stench of the Alpha's blood. He'd smelled the stench of death plenty of times before and forced the smell from his mind, so he could focus on her. The duffle weighed heavily against his shoulder, clanking against his hip, but Nim felt as light as a feather.

Dean's mind returned to Jo's death, of carrying her away from the hellhounds, weak and bleeding in his arms, only to watch her slowly die, helpless to do anything about it. Not this time, he promised himself. He hadn't been brought here only to watch her die again. Clenching a jaw to stifle a groan of his own pain, he laid her very carefully on the ground, just as he felt the heat of a blaze burn at his back, and he turned his head to see the silhouette of the god who was their ally against a backdrop of flames.

Apollo watched the cabin take to the flame, only stepping back when the fire licked toward him, hot enough to burn from distance. Turning his back on the hateful tomb with a grim sort of satisfaction, he advanced on Dean and Nim, lowering down to one knee on the other side of the female hunter. One hand reached toward her face, but hesitated, sensing the anger in Dean. Silver/blue eyes rose to meet those of the male hunter. "May I heal her?"

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 13:48 EST
Dean cradled her in his arms as she lay there, sweltering in the heat of the fire, his throat closing against a flood of emotions, unable to do anything to help her but hold her close and whisper soothing but useless words of comfort. When he lifted his head to meet Apollo's silvery blue gaze, all the anger had gone out of him, replaced by a look of sorrow, his heart bleeding with grief, his eyes wet with unshed tears. Unable to speak without his voice betraying his emotions, he only nodded his head, giving the god permission to do whatever was necessary to save her.

Silent and grim, the god of music, sunlight, and healing bent his head, touching the smooth line of his forehead to Nim's pale temple, somehow ignoring this time the stench that rose from her blood-stained clothes. His eyes closed, his hands cradling her jaw as Dean held her limp form, and for a long moment there was nothing but silence, punctuated by the snap and crackle of dead wood and mortar burning in the consuming fire close by. Slowly, Apollo drew back, releasing the young woman from his grasp, revealing her once again to Dean's eyes.

Where her skin had been pale, it was flushed anew; the bloodied bites and scratches were gone from her body; even the protective curl that betrayed some deep internal injury relaxed. She breathed slow and deep, almost sleeping for a moment longer before her eyes opened, clear and unpained. "Dean?"

Dean watched in grave silence as Apollo worked his healing magic, a single tear trickling down his cheek as the god withdrew and revealed his handiwork. He felt a flood of relief and gratitude too strong for words as he looked down on his Nim - the Nim he had come to know and love from this place and time. He didn't bother to hide the fact that he was crying, too overwhelmed with joy that she was safe and all in one piece, his own wounds and pain forgotten in that moment of happiness. "It's me," he told her, jaw twitching with emotion, as he leaned in to cradle her cheek and press a kiss to her lips, as if to prove that it really was him and not some imposter.

"Oh, thank god ..." She surged up from her sprawl in his arms, curling her hand to his neck as his lips found hers, claiming once again in a wild rush of relieved affection, the shock and fear of the past hours all but forgotten in the reassurance that he was safely returned to her. Feeling the wetness of his tears on her own cheeks, she drew back just a little, stroking her fingers over his face. "Hey," she breathed softly, "no need for tears, baby. You're back."

Across from them, Apollo knelt quietly, his own eyes closed, ostensibly giving the couple a little privacy as he drew his strength together once again, fully intending to heal Dean once the tender moment had passed. It wasn't much of an apology, given that he had failed to adequately protect Nim in her lover's absence, but it would have to do until something better came along.

If any god was to be thanked, it was Death or Apollo or both. Once again, Dean's prayers had gone unanswered by the God he'd been raised to believe in, but he didn't want to think about that now, too relieved that she was safe. He smiled weakly through his tears, comforted by her touch. "I thought I lost you again," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Shifting, Nim rose onto her knees in front of him, both hands rising to cradle his jaw, her own smile soft in the face of his weaker smile. Her smile was the one he knew best, untouched by the hard edge of bitterness her older self held so close to her heart. "Well, you didn't," she promised, leaning close to kiss him once again. "I thought I'd lost you for a while there." Drawing in a sharp breath, his tears sparkling her own gaze to moisten her eyes, she turned her head, looking to Apollo. She hadn't missed the blood that decorated Dean, nor the stiff way he held himself. "Can you heal him?" she asked the god.

Apollo opened his eyes, nodding gravely. "With his permission."

Dean had so much to tell her, so much to explain, but there wasn't much time. Somehow he knew another life hung in the balance. He'd been told that much, and until he had time to read the journal, it was all he knew. He felt such a flood of relief and happiness to be back to his Nim, he was having a hard time composing himself and a hard time taking his eyes away from her. "We have to go," he said with a frown. "We have to get to the Roadhouse before it's too late." He ignored mention of his own healing, his wounds like a dull pain, only remotely acknowledged by himself.

"Not until you're healed." And there was the stubborn streak he knew resided in his Nim, but was less confrontational in this version of her. It was gentle insistence, over forceful argument. "Let him heal you, I'm gonna grab us fresh clothes. Won't take but a few minutes to change and get on the road again."

The deepest wounds aren't those of the flesh, he thought to himself, thinking he'd heard it somewhere before, but he wasn't sure where. "Nimue," he whispered, catching hold of her before she could leave his side. "I love you," he told her, that simple declaration of love sounding so much surer than ever before. Whatever had happened to him, he'd come back stronger, surer of his place in this world, and more determined than ever to accomplish his purpose. He didn't bother to hide what he was feeling from Apollo. If the god was going to be their closest friend and ally, he needed to know what Nim meant to him.

The burning cabin bathed them all in flickering red/gold light, Nim's eyes softening to sweetly loving vulnerability in the face of Dean's sudden confidence in laying claim to his own heart as much as hers. Just the fact that he had said it was enough to touch her, but to know that Apollo had witnessed it was stunning. She gazed deep into Dean's eyes, at a loss for anything to say but this ...."I love you, so much." Leaning close, she caught his lips in a searing kiss that lasted too short a moment before she drew back again. "I want you whole before we move on. Those things could be anywhere."

He returned her kiss, his love for her burning like a fire in his heart, stronger even than the one that was blazing nearby. He sighed softly as the kiss ended, passionate but brief, and he allowed himself to finally acknowledge his own injuries, aching and bleeding from wounds he didn't even remember receiving. He watched as she drew away from him, knowing they didn't have a lot of time to waste. A proper reunion would have to wait until later. His eyes still on Nimue, he scrubbed a hand across his face to dry his own tears. "Thank you," he told Apollo, no longer angry, only thankful the god had been there to do what he could to help them both.

As Nim moved to the sleek shape of the Impala, glittering with the reflection of the flames, Apollo met Dean's eyes, his grim expression solemn but understanding. He could almost taste Death's touch on the hunter, wondering not for the last time how it was Dean Winchester could call in such a favor from such a powerful being. Taking Dean's thanks as consent to be healed, he reached out, cupping the other man's face in his hands, closing his eyes to let the natural health of his personal jurisdiction bleed into the injured mortal before him.

Dean closed his eyes as he felt the healing warmth of Apollo's powers flood his body, taking away the physical pain from all but one wound, the one that had been been inflicted in this time, but in the future. "We have to get to the Roadhouse," he repeated, feeling a strange urgency inside him, seeing the future Nim's face wavering behind his closed lids, so much like his own Nim and yet so different. He saw the face of their son, wondering if he'd ever see him again. Perhaps, if they succeeded. He had already changed the past that future Nimue had known, and he wondered briefly if he had started on the path to save her.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 13:52 EST
Apollo swayed back onto his heels, obviously weakened by the strain of healing in such circumstances, proving himself as vulnerable as any other creature in those moments. His eyes closed, the flicker of Dean's bruises and cuts visible on the god's skin for a brief second or two before fading entirely. "I will mask your going," he offered in his low rasp of a voice. "But I cannot hide you forever. Be quick, whatever it is you must do."

"You think something's happening at the Roadhouse?" Nim asked softly, dropping a bundle of fresh clothing onto the clean dirt beside Dean, together with a flask of water to wipe the last of the blood from their skin. She was quick to strip her stained jacket, shirt, and tank from her body, bundling them together to throw violently into the flaming cabin, uncaring that the flames illuminated her skin, scars and all. It was the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, and she wasn't going anywhere smelling like a corpse.

Dean rubbed his shoulder, grimacing briefly at the ache that remained, despite Apollo's healing. Now that the adrenaline rush had subsided, he was feeling the last few days catch up with him. He suspected Nim wasn't feeling much better after being on the run for the last few hours and having to fight for her life. Though he'd only been gone a few hours in this time, for him, it had been days, and he was feeling a little out of sync with the world. "Aren't you coming with us?" he asked Apollo, turning to Nim as she rejoined them. "The Roadhouse is their next target. We need to call Bill and warn him."

Dean moved to his feet, reaching into his jacket for his cellphone, but he'd left it behind with everything else. He cast a glance at Nim as she stripped down to practically nothing, his stomach twisting into knots at the thought of how close he'd come to losing her. Again. He pulled the leather-bound journal from inside his jacket and tossed it onto the ground before peeling off his own torn and bloodied clothes to change. He knew they didn't have much time.

"At this point, I would only slow you down," Apollo told him reluctantly, acutely aware of his own weaknesses. "You are more aware of what is happening at this moment than I, Dean. You know what it is you have to do. I will find you at Robert Singer's yard." He let out a low sigh, swaying on his knees as he slowly faded from view, leaving nothing but empty air behind him.

Nim rolled her eyes, dragging her jeans off over her boots and throwing them into the fire as well, turning to pull a fresh pair on roughly. "That little trick would have been handy a little while ago," she commented, dragging a Stones t-shirt on over her head with barely a wince. The residual ache from internal injuries and broken flesh was probably going to hang around for a while, but if they had somewhere to be, she wasn't going to let it slow her down. "Why are they going to the Roadhouse?"

"Wait!" Dean called, but Apollo was already gone. He wanted to warn him that he was also a target and about Ares' treachery, but it was too late. It would have to wait until next time, assuming there was a next time. "Damn it," he muttered as he threw his jacket onto the ground and pulled off his t-shirt. If it wasn't for the rotting stench of hybrid guts, he wouldn't have wasted time changing, but there was no way he was being cooped up in the car with that stench until they got to the Roadhouse. "Bill's the next target. I'm not sure why. I can explain on the way."

Crouching, Nim gathered his jacket and shirt up, edging close enough to the fire to toss the tainted clothing into the flames. "You got a lot to explain," she told him, pulling open the passenger side of the Impala. Bending to look inside, she rummaged for Dean's cell, his amulet, bringing them to him in the flicker of firelight. "How'd you kill them?" she asked, her gaze flickering toward the burning cabin. "Every one I put down, they got back up again."

He pulled on a clean t-shirt and changed out of his stained jeans, not worrying about a jacket for now. It was a warm June night and with the fire blazing behind them, one wasn't really necessary, except for hiding weapons. He took the cell phone from her and shoved it into his pants pocket, as he followed her gaze to the burning cabin. "Kill the Alpha and the rest die with it." His gaze lingered on the fire for a moment, his mind feeling cluttered and disoriented, but he'd have to sort it all out in the car. "Come on," he told her after a moment. "We gotta go." He leaned down to retrieve the journal from the ground and started toward the car.

She tossed his jeans on the fire, bending to scoop up the duffle of mostly spent weapons as she turned abruptly to follow him to the car. "Hey, Dean." Her hand trailed fingertips tenderly down his spine as she came level with him. "It's good to have you back." Pulling the car keys from her pocket, she pressed them into his palm with a wry little quirk to her lopsided smile. "You're driving."

The journal in one hand, he reached for the duffle, pausing as he felt her touch him and turning to face her. He wanted to take time to savor the moment, to kiss her, to tell her how much he missed her, and how worried he was about her. There were a million things he wanted to tell her, but not yet. His thoughts turned back to the Nim of the future and their son, wondering if they were still living that nightmare somewhere or if things had started to change, realizing that he'd probably never know for another four years, if he lived that long. He looked down at her as she smiled at him, realizing just how close he'd come to losing her again, unable to form the right words to tell her what he was feeling, only nodding his head mutely and closing his hand around the car keys.

"We have to go," he said again, feeling a sense of urgency, shouldering the duffle and pulling open the back seat of the car to dump it inside.

She didn't give up the duffle easily, fully intending to spend the short drive to the Roadhouse reloading the guns and cleaning down the blades, expecting to need them when they arrived. But there was something else that needed doing, her fingers loosening on the handles to let him take it from her. The brass amulet hung from her other hand as she reached up, stopping him for just another brief moment to hang the precious charm about his neck, touching a kiss to his cheek. "Let's go, then." Pulling open the passenger door again, she thumped down into the car, already leaning over into the back seat for the small arsenal that was there. She wasn't going to be caught out this time.

He pushed the car door closed and turned to face her again, ducking his head so she could loop the charm about his neck. He reached for the heavy lump of brass, closing his fingers around it without thinking as she brushed a kiss against his cheek. He knew he should say something to her, but what? Hey, I met your future self and our children" It would all come out in time, but he wasn't sure if he was ready just yet. Letting go of the amulet, he touched his fingers to his cheek where she'd kissed him, wondering not for the first time if any of this was real. It sure as hell felt real, but he knew that didn't mean anything. He moved around to the driver's side of the car finally and climbed inside.

"I've got a back up in the glovebox," he told her, in case she wanted to use it or get it ready for him, and without another word, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the road with a squeal of tires.

"Yeah ....no, you don't," she admitted, pulling said back up out of the duffle along with a handful of bullets. She shrugged, checking over the handgun even as she loaded up the magazine. "It's been a busy night so far." Opening up the glove compartment, she dropped the handgun back in there. "Now you got a back up in the glovebox." Without even glancing up at the road as the Impala sped along it, she set to establishing an impressive array of weapons ready to go. "So ....gonna tell me what?s got you wound up halfway to the moon?"

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 13:55 EST
He glanced over as she pulled his backup out of the duffle and reloaded it, clenching his jaw, feeling like his nerves were strung tight as a wire. He'd answer her questions in due time, but there was something he needed her to do first. "Can you call Bobby' Tell him to call Bill and warn him. He should head for Bobby's, and if he runs into any hybrids, look for the Alpha. It'll be the one that's different from all the rest. They're hard to kill but not impossible. Tell him we're on the way to the Roadhouse, just in case."

She glanced his way, nodding quickly as she pulled her own phone out of her pocket, dialling Bobby without even thinking. He wasn't her first port of call, as her call to Brian earlier had proved, but he was Dean's. With the phone propped between her shoulder and her ear, jostled by the motion of the car, Nim made the call, fully aware that Dean was avoiding answering her questions. The tension in the Impala was racking up her stress levels to a whole new high as she relayed Dean's message to the very grumpy hunter who answered her call, talking over Bobby when he started to berate her for worrying Brian so badly. Dropping the phone into her lap, the call done, she looked over at Dean. "What's going on, Dean?"

He set the journal on the seat between them, focusing his attention on his driving while Nim talked to Bobby, a little lost in his own thoughts. He could practically find the Roadhouse in his sleep and didn't need a roadmap to find it. He knew it would be about three hours give or take, not soon enough in his mind. He was pushing his luck as it was, going as fast as he could without risking getting pulled over. Dean flicked a glance out the rearview mirror, fairly confident that Hades' minions weren't following them, but not taking any chances. He clenched his jaw as she asked the question he knew was coming sooner or later. "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

"Baby, I know you're crazy," she countered in a gently teasing tone, her expression one of wry resignation. "Same kind of crazy I am. You disappeared - which, by the way, scared the ever living crap out of me - totally naked, then four hours later, give or take, you reappear in the middle of nowhere, fully dressed, armed, and knowing all about how to kill those dead things" I know you've got more to say than howdy."

"Four hours," he repeated, dubiously. "More like two days, maybe three. It was hard to tell." God, he couldn't wait until the sun came up again. He swore he was gonna kiss Apollo next time he saw him, if for nothing else than making the sun rise every morning. "You remember that....thing that attacked us in the motel room' It was one of them. A hybrid. Part demon, part human. Dead human. They're courtesy of Hades." He wasn't sure how much of this she had already found out, but he had to start at the beginning.

"Yeah, I kinda figured Hades was the big bad behind all this," she nodded, blowing into the barrel of her Glock thoughtfully before setting it back on its mount. "Story goes that Zeus tricked him into becoming the ruler of the Underworld, rather than the living. With Apollo talking about a betrayal in the family and the whole ....dead bodies attacking me thing, I'd say Hades is taking his chance to get his revenge." She blinked, realising she'd missed something. "Hold on ....two days?"

"Not just revenge, Nim. He wants to take over the whole shebang. If Hades gets his way, it'll make the Apocalypse look like a day in the park." Dean glanced away from the road briefly to hand her the journal on the seat between them. "I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but it's all there."

Her fingers closed on the journal, her brow furrowing with a confused frown. "A journal?" she asked with quiet sarcasm. "What is this, some kind of Get Out of Jail Free card?" Nim really wasn't sure what she was looking at here, carefully opening up the buckle that held it closed, letting the pages fall open. There was silence for a long moment. "August 14th, 2015," she read aloud. "Apollo's gone. No sunlight, no safety. Turns out the son of a bitch actually is a sun god - Dean, this is in your handwriting." Her eyes scanned over the page, fingers carefully flicking through. "And that ....that's my handwriting. What the hell ....where did you say you were, again?" Her frown deepened as a photograph tipped out of the journal into her lap.

He was watching the road and didn't notice the photograph that slipped out from the pages of the journal - a photograph of himself and Nim and a sweet-faced boy whose eyes looked a little too much like Dean's. "I didn't," he replied. "That hybrid, the one that attacked you? It was trying to send you to the future. To 2016."

She barely heard him, her dark eyes fixed on the photograph as she lifted it from her leg. Shock rippled through her as she recognized their faces - older, smiling, happy - seeing the sweet mix of herself and Dean in the laughing face of the small boy held between them. Turning the picture over, she read her own handwriting; The Winchesters - Dean, Nim, and Sammy. 2015. "The Winchesters," she breathed, her voice trembling as she turned the photo back over again, her fingertips tracing the little family captured for all time. "Is this ....is this us?"

He glanced over at her again, eyes darting to the photograph she held in her hand, a dull ache throbbing in his chest at the memory of her and Sammy, missing them both, even though she was right there beside him and their son hovered somewhere in their future. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he pushed those feelings away, deep down, to think on later, not now. "Yeah, it's us. Or will be a few years from now," he replied, trying not to think about it too hard, as he looked back to the road. Not now. Later. You need to focus now.

"Should I ask you to marry me now, or should I just assume you're gonna say yes?" he asked, feeling more than a little weirded out by knowing what their future might hold, though nothing was for certain.

She couldn't take her eyes off the little boy smiling back at her from a moment in time that hadn't happened yet. "We're gonna have a son," she murmured, almost incredulous. "We're going to have children in a world where those undead things roam around and get everywhere?" she demanded suddenly, shaking her head in disbelief at his question. There was a lot of information here to take in, but this was one step too far, even for her. "You ask me to marry you now, I'll punch you. Aren't we supposed to be on a job here?"

Her reaction brought an unexpected smile to his face. "Not exactly the most romantic of settings. I'm not sure it says how I ask you in there. It kind of feels like cheating to read it and find out." If she was going to punch him, he just hoped it wasn't where she'd shot him. "This isn't a job," he replied with a frown. "This is....I don't know what this is. It's....saving the world all over again." He wondered if they defeated Hades, would someone else rise up to take his place" Would it ever end" "All I know is if we don't stop Hades, there's not gonna be anything left."

Her hand rose between them, one finger pointing in his direction as the other hand closed up the journal, tucking the picture inside once more. "One thing at a time," she said firmly, putting the journal on the seat between them once again. "How do you know what?s happening at the Roadhouse right now" Is that why you brought this journal back with you, are you trying to change the future somehow?"

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 13:58 EST
"Damn straight I'm trying to change the future. You think I want our kids growing up in a world like that' A world where there's no light, no hope, no life" A world that's slowly dying" I don't know what?s happening at the Roadhouse exactly. I just know..." He paused a moment, swallowing hard before continuing. "I just know what you told me."

"But I -" It took a moment for her to catch up again, the same jolt of shock making itself known as her head snapped around, her eyes locking on his face. "What' You met me, the older me" The me in that picture?" Then she realized what it was her instinctive reaction was blotting out, shaking her head once again as her hand plunged through the honeyed fall of her hair. "Okay, ignore all that. A world with no light' Is that what?s coming, if we don't stop this?"

"That's part of it, yeah. I'm not sure what happens exactly. You..." He paused on that word again, unsure how he should refer to her future self. She was Nim, and yet she wasn't this Nim. "You wrote it all down in the journal. I just haven't had a chance to read it yet. We need to go to Bobby's and sort this all out, but first, I need to check on your father."

"But why would they go after Bill Harvelle unless ..." Nim slumped suddenly back against the seat, her hands loose in her lap. "That's where we would have been," she said softly. "If we hadn't stopped at the motel, we would have been at the Roadhouse. Those things would have come to the Roadhouse for me instead." A cold chill spread through her. "He doesn't stand a chance."

"If they're there. They might not be. We're....changing things." Dean furrowed his brows, tired and confused as it was, all the what ifs and what might best tangled up in his head. He needed to get some rest and sort it all out in his head. "Call Bobby back. See if he got a hold of him yet."

She was already fumbling for her phone as he spoke, tapping for Bobby's number. "He should get out of the Roadhouse," she said quietly, listening as the phone rang. "Unless Bobby already rang him and he's on this road coming to find me - Bobby?" Her attention diverted to the cell by her ear once again as the older hunter picked up. "Bobby, did you call Bill" Did he pick up?"

There was a pause as Bobby presumably growled his way through a few choice expletives before actually answering her question. Nim glanced at Dean, relief spreading over her face. "Oh, good ....Look, uh, you need to tell him not to go back to Roadhouse, okay' Get him to meet us at yours ....Seriously, this is not something I can explain over the phone, you're just gonna have to trust us ..." Her eyes rolled as the voice on the other end rose in volume. "Bobby ....Bobby, for god's sakes ..." The look she shot at Dean was more than a little irritated this time, tucking the phone under her chin to address her lover. "You know, your friend has a real attitude problem."

"That's what I said!" Dean exclaimed. Why wouldn't anyone just trust him and listen to him without him having to explain everything" He blew out an exasperated breath as she called Bobby and he quieted, listening as they spoke. His mind was reeling, and his shoulder was aching, and he was starting to feel tired and cranky. He just wanted to get to the Roadhouse and make sure it was all in one piece. His mind drifted to the last time he'd seen the place. There hadn't been much left of it, burned to the ground by the yellow-eyed bastard's pals, along with a few hunters who'd been inside at the time.

Dean blinked out of his thoughts as Nim and Bobby argued, and he smiled faintly again. As cranky as Bobby was, he was glad to know he was still alive. "Tell him not to get his panties in a wad, and I'll explain everything when I get there. And tell him to have plenty of Hunter's Helper on hand!" He called over, raising his voice enough that Bobby could hear him on the other end.

Judging by the rattle of the voice suddenly audible from her phone and the way Nim winced, Bobby's answer was just as loud as Dean's call had been. "I'm guessing you got that?" she spoke into the phone once again. "Happy now" ....Just call Bill and get him to your place. Dean will explain everything when we get to you."

Hanging up, she turned her eyes to her lover. "Bill Harvelle was the only hunter in the area when I sent out a call for help; he locked up the Roadhouse and headed out toward me. He answered Bobby's call, so he's still alive, and if he's sensible, he'll meet us at Bobby's in a few hours."

Dean seemed to consider that a moment, not really comfortable with turning around, but if Bill was no longer at the Roadhouse, then there was no point in going there. Bobby's was closer anyway. He mumbled a typical, "Son of a bitch," and turned off the main road, taking the next turn going north. He didn't want to make any mistakes this time. It was mistakes that had gotten people - including himself - killed in the future. "He'd better be sensible. We need to talk." Dean was doing a mental head count of hunters that needed to assemble at Bobby's. "What about Brian' How fast can he get to Sioux Falls?"

"He'd have to find someone to cover the Landing for him," Nim mused thoughtfully, mentally going over the numbers to try and come up with a best guess. "A day, maybe two. You want me to call him, get him to get his a$$ to Bobby's?" she asked, her fingers already in her pocket reaching for her phone yet again.

"Unless he wants a conference call, yeah. I'm not repeating this twice. He needs to know what?s going on." Dean sighed, suddenly weary, and wishing he'd tucked some painkillers in his jacket before he'd left 2016. A thought suddenly crossed his mind and he couldn't help but smirk a little. "You know, while we have everyone assembled, it might be a good time for a wedding."

The look she gave him was an interesting mix between exasperated and touched, as though she wasn't sure whether to be pleased with this slightly annoying suggestion or to veto it before he had a chance to actually think about it and decide it was a good idea. "I'll call Brian."

He hadn't mentioned his sister yet, and was privately hoping to keep her out of things, whether she was a hunter or not. "What' It's in the journal. It's gonna happen sooner or later. You want me to make an honest woman of you or not?" He was partly teasing, partly serious, not really wanting to know how it went down in the journal. They were creating their own future now, and he'd be damned if it was going to go like the one he'd just come from.

Unlike calling Bobby, calling Brian was over in a matter of minutes, the phone tucked once again back in her pocket before she turned her attention to this unusual turn of the conversation. "What happened to taking our time, not putting any pressure on this?" she asked, not entirely sure why she was arguing, exactly. "I mean, c'mon, Dean ....you said it yourself, the world's going to hell. You were right. It's a bad idea to try and raise a family." She shook her head, her confidence in the future he knew she wanted severely dented by her complete inability to defend even herself against Hades' hybrids.

Dean felt all the air go out of him when she shot down his suggestion, even if he hadn't been entirely serious about it. "You warned me you'd say that," he told her glumly, not really in a mood to argue about it right now. He had to believe she'd change her mind somehow, sometime in the future. "That was the whole point of changing things," he continued, turning onto another road that would take them back to the highway toward Sioux Falls.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:01 EST
He'd thrown her for a loop, the confidence that usually oozed from her easily held back by the confusion and uncertainty rippling through her. Changing things" He wanted to change something in the future, something to do with her, something that he wasn't telling her. Just what had her older self been like, she wondered, to make him so easily give up on something that obviously meant the world to him' "This is a weird conversation," she said finally. "Can we talk about this some other time?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, without really agreeing. How about tomorrow" he thought. Or the next day' If we live that long. He fell silent as he thought back to the little boy he'd only known for two days and the woman that would someday be his wife. She was Nim, but she wasn't Nim. Not yet, maybe never. Wasn't this supposed to be about making the world a safer place to raise a family in" Why didn't she seem to get that'

Maybe it was too much, too soon. It had been too much for him to absorb at first, too. Maybe it still was. Maybe he should just take things one day at a time, one step at a time, and see what happened. But he'd be damned if he'd let the world go to hell, like he'd seen in the future.

Because she hadn't lived through what he had lived through. Two days for him had been four hours for her, and while it had reinforced his flagging enthusiasm for a family, that soujourn apart had damaged her own badly. Silenced by the uncomfortable feeling that now spread through the car, Nim reached for the journal once again, opening it up to flick through the pages, her eyes scanning pictures and sketches, reams of information scrawled in handwriting that was both hers and Dean's. "You said you were in 2016?"

"Yeah," he answered again, his own voice sounding as if it was distant, outside of himself, far away, still full of grief for a family he might never know. He sighed again, furrowing his brows, unable to suppress the memories of those two short days spent with the Nim of the future. "Most of it was horrible, but some of it was pretty awesome." He chuckled, laughing at himself and the irony of it all. "God, I sound like Dorothy again."

What was awesome" She was awesome. Their son was awesome. Their house was awesome. Every moment spent with his future family was awesome. Those were the things that he wanted to remember. Not the darkness or the things outside the house or the people they'd lost or the fact that he was already dead.

Her lips quirked slightly at the sound of his chuckle, relieved that he wasn't entirely sunken into the bad mood that seemed to have settled over him. "I guess the older me must be a bit of a firecracker, huh?" she asked softly, her eyes glued to the page in front of her, a gently pale cast to her cheeks. "Not the kind of woman you argue with?"

"What?" he asked, drawn out of his thoughts again, as he darted a glance at her, realizing she had been reading something from the journal in the dim light cast by the moon and the passing street lights.

She bit her lip thoughtfully, reaching over into the backseat to grab her torch, turning the beam onto the page in front of her. The handwriting was hers, unmistakeably hers, and yet she hadn't written it. At least, this her hadn't. "Listen to this," she said quietly. "Nim, this is just for you. Don't let the doubts win. Don't keep secrets that'll hurt. Nothing you say or do will ever make Dean leave you, no matter how mad he gets. Whatever really happens with the future, whether you save the world or not, you're going to have a beautiful son, and you're going to protect him from the worst of the world like you were born to it. He's what all this is about, he's what makes it all worth it. Stop and think, and don't give up." She lifted her head, looking over at Dean in wary silence.

Dean drew his brows down, his jaw set, a pensive look on his face, thoughtful and full of regret, mostly for things he hadn't even done yet. He couldn't deny that he was missing his future family and wondering if that part of his life would even come to pass. As Nim read the words written by her future self, Dean almost thought it was her future's voice he was hearing, instead of the voice of the woman who was sitting beside him, and he felt the deep emotion that he had been fighting so hard to hold inside stirring once again. The road blurred as he blinked to clear the mist from his eyes, before finally pulling the car over so he could regain his composure.

Dean's sudden rush of tears was almost alarming to Nim. She'd never seen him lose it when he was behind the wheel of his car, when he was focused on a single goal as he was right now. As the car drew to a halt, she twisted, turning off the torch in her fingers, shifting toward him. "Dean?" she ventured in a wary voice, unsure whether she should acknowledge his abrupt distress or not. Her fingers rose to stroke tenderly against his cheek. "Baby, what?s wrong?" Not that it took a genius to work it out - reading her own voice from years into her future was shocking enough. She couldn't imagine how it sounded to him, who had been with that older Nim and their son until barely an hour before.

He turned to face her, all the anguish he was feeling clearly etched on his face, even in the moonlight. "You wanna know what I'm trying to change?" he asked, his voice crackling with emotion. "I die in the future, Nim. I do something stupid and I die, leaving you to raise our children alone in a place where there is no future. What am I trying to change" I'm trying to change everything, except you. It wasn't me that was Hades' target, Nim. It was you. You know why' Because without you, I'm nothing, and he knows it. Without you, there's no hope, no point, no future. I don't want to live without you, and I'd die to save you."

"You die?" She stared into his eyes, shocked into momentary numbness by this announcement. It wasn't that she hadn't heard the rest of what he said, but the thought of him dying, even far enough into the future as to be nebulous, ripped through her heart as though it had happened just at that moment. "No." She shook her head, sliding close to him, curling her hands to his face, her expression almost a snarl of determined denial. "No, that's not going to happen. You're not leaving me in a world with no light. I'd follow you to Hell to stop that."

"Do you think I want that to happen?" he asked, eyes brimming with tears. "What the hell do you think this is all about' It's about us, Nim. So, if you don't want to get married or have children, that's fine. I understand, but then, what?s the point of all this" What's the point if we let them win" If we let them make the decision for us" I met our son, Nimue, and he was beautiful."

"I never said I didn't want to, Dean." Nim shook her head, her own eyes leaking tears in answer to his unconsidered pain, his assumption that the shock of information overload had closed her heart to him forever. "God, that's what I dream about. I just ....Dean, nothing I did stopped those things. If you hadn't showed up, I'd be dead, and I know it. And it scared me. If I can't protect myself, how can I protect a child?" Dropping her gaze to his chest, she scrubbed her fingers against her own cheeks, wiping the moisture from her skin. "And then there's that journal, and a message from myself, and ....I don't know how to process all of this." Her eyes lifted to meet his, her face bare inches from his. "But I never said no."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:04 EST
Dean pushed his own pain aside as he realized how confusing and upsetting all this was for her. He hadn't been here for her when she'd needed him, and he hadn't been there for her in the future either. He laid a hand against her cheek, brushing residual tears from her cheek with the pad of a thumb. There was so much he still needed to tell her, so much she needed to know, but he didn't want to cause her any more pain, not now, not tonight. She'd been through enough. "I love you, and no matter what happens, I'm never gonna stop loving you." Just like the Nimue of the future had written in his journal to this Nim.

"I didn't say no." It seemed important, deathly important, that he understand this; that despite her confusion and shock and pain at the thought of losing him so soon, she still had the same dreams, she still wanted the same things. Staring into his eyes, she was unaware of the expressions flickering through her gaze, showing off the way her thoughts were streaming through her head, working toward a conclusion that was inevitable, no matter what. "I love you. And if you're ready, then so am I."

"I..." Dean hesitated. Now that he was face to face with this decision and face to face with his Nim, he wasn't sure how to respond. He knew what he wanted, but was now really the right time" Was there a right time" And yet, he knew better than anyone that life was too short and you had to make the most of every second. His expression almost mirrored his as he was trying to sort it all out in his head. If they'd been married in the future, then was it meant to be? Should he consult the journal to see when and how it had happened" Or should they make their own future however they saw fit' "I don't know what I"m supposed to do," he said finally, lifting a conflicted gaze to hers. "All I know is I can't lose you again, and whatever the future brings, we'll face it together."

Dark eyes burned into his, clearly uncertain which way they were supposed to go from here. Should she insist, should she force the issue and make him agree to bind himself to her ....or should she let it drop" "You're not going to lose me," she told him, her voice firm as her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping tightly. "I'm not going to lose you. And we're going to have the beautiful little boy you already know, okay' That is going to happen. We just don't need to make that big decision yet. But you can take it as read - when you ask me, the answer is yes. Screw the romance; so long as it's you and me, I don't care."

His heart stung at the mention of romance. He knew romance wasn't something he could offer. Their lives weren't about romance; they were about survival. But he'd seen that proof that somehow in the future, they would make it work. They'd built a marriage, a home, a family together. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he knew they could do it. He wiped a hand across his face, the tears nearly dry. "You remember that first night on the beach back in Chicago?"

"The first time you realized how cold lake water is?" she asked softly, the corner of her mouth quirking into a hint toward a teasing smile. Her grip softened in his t-shirt, hands smoothing to lie flat against his chest between them. "I remember," she said softly, gently touching the tip of her nose to his in a tender nuzzle.

"We had a little romance that night, didn't we?" he asked, smiling a little at the nose bumping, remembering it as if it was yesterday, though it already seemed a long time ago. If he hadn't already been in love with her, he would have fallen even more in love that night. "You taught me to live that night. You showed me that our lives don't have to suck. So long as we're together, nothing is impossible."

Nim's lopsided smile evened out, the expression soft, tender in the memory of the second night he'd spent in this reality. "So we stick together," she agreed in a low tone. "We'll make our own romance. Just, you know, don't try and slow dance me in a room full of demon guts. That could put a damper on the whole thing."

His smile widened, perhaps the first really sincere smile since he'd returned to his own time and he cupped her cheek with a deceptively gentle hand for that of a hunter. "I don't think you have to worry about that." For the first time since arriving back, he took his time and kissed her, sealing all the promises they'd made to each other with that single kiss, the first kiss of the rest of their lives.

His smile found hers with that kiss, her breath caught in her throat as she breathed him in, drawing close to curl her own palm to his jaw. There weren't words enough in the world to make coherent sense of everything she'd seen and heard and felt in the past hours, but this kiss was about wiping that away, resetting her heart to look to the future. A future that contained children, Dean's children. Very reluctantly, she drew back, just far enough to speak, her smiling lips brushing his with every word. "Dean Winchester, will you marry me?"

He lost himself in her kiss, every bit as enraptured as she was, and it seemed in that moment that everything they'd suffered was worth it, so long as they were together. Dean closed his eyes as their lips met, lingering in the kiss, sighing softly as she drew back and his eyes slowly opened to find those lovely familiar dark eyes looking into his. His eyes widened as her question sunk in, brows arching curiously, wondering if she was serious or if she was only teasing. His mouth moved wordlessly as he tried to summon his voice. "Wha- Are you serious" I thought I was supposed to ask that." He smiled back at her, looking amused and slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah," she breathed against his lips, leaning back just a little to hold his gaze, showing him how serious she was despite the fond smile that touched her face. Her fingers curled against his cheek as she nuzzled him lovingly. "It kinda looked like you were gonna change your mind about asking, so I figured I'd do it. You want me to take it back?"

He reached over to link his fingers with hers, needing to touch her, to feel her hand in his and know that she - and this moment - was real. His smile deepened, warm and tender. "It's kind of cheating since I already know the answer," he reminded her, green eyes shining, all the sadness and worry dispelled with just one kiss.

Her palm lay flat in his, fingers smoothing between his knuckles as she laughed softly at his comment, tipping her head back to kiss the tip of his nose. How long before Apollo's cloaking spell runs out, she wondered. How long can I enjoy this before the danger comes back" "That wasn't a yes," she murmured through her smile, close enough once again for lips to brush with each word.

His eyes drifted closed once again, lids heavy, as her lips brushed kisses against his, each kiss healing the pain and the heartache of the last two days. "Yes," he whispered, wanting it almost more than he'd ever wanted anything in his whole life, wishing for a fresh start, a new life here with her, a future they'd build together.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:07 EST
"Good." Her arms rose to curl about his neck, deepening the softer touch of lips to something undeniably heated, tender, but above all, loving. There was no denying that every kiss, every touch, every last moment they spent together was fuelled by that love. Her lips broke from his just briefly, words spilling forth between kisses to tease him affectionately. "Guess we'll have to ....ask Bobby ....where to get ....you a ....dress ....princess."

He smiled as her lips touched his, warm and affectionate, over and over, fueling the heat inside him that had been denied for days. He slipped his hands beneath her jacket and up against her sides, bunching the fabric of her shirt in his fists. "Don't have the legs for it," he countered, his mouth opening to deepen the kiss.

She giggled against his lips, her back arching as his hands bunched her t-shirt, her own hands echoing that grip in his own t-shirt, dragging the fabric upward unconsciously as she moaned softly into his mouth. "You think you can talk me into a dress?" she teased again, nibbling at his lower lip. It had been days for him, hours for her, but nothing seemed to dampen the desire he always brought burning to the surface with just the slightest touch.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, too lost in his need to fulfill the desire he'd been denied or denied himself. He didn't have to hold himself back any longer. This was his Nim, and they belonged together. It didn't even matter if they got legally married or not. A piece of paper wasn't what bonded a man and a woman together - it was the love they shared and the promises they'd already made to each other. As far as Dean was concerned, all of that was just ceremony - what mattered was what they felt in their hearts, and he knew his whole heart belonged to her. The road was dark, deserted, and even if it wasn't, he didn't much care. Dean reached over to turn the key in the ignition, shutting down the engine, as his mouth sought hers again and again.

There was nothing better than this; nothing better than losing herself wholly to the overwhelming delight of being claimed so entirely by the man she loved more than anything or anyone. Her limbs curled tight around him as she arched from the door, trading kisses with him that were as messy as they were fervent, fierce with the need for release that came swift on the heels of that desperate, agonising pleasure. His name spilled from her lips as that ecstasy crashed through her, her outflung hand wiping a trail through the condensation gathered on the glass by her head.

It seemed that in that moment of claiming, they needed no justice of the peace to declare them man and wife, no piece of paper to make it legal, no church, no witnesses, no rings, no vows. He claimed her as his and freely gave himself to her, for as long as they both lived. And when he was through and they were both spent, their bodies aching but sated, it was her arms that he rested in, her that he held close, content and at peace with the world, if only for a little while.

For what seemed both a second and an eternity, they lay still together, only half on the bench seat that spanned the front section of the Impala but somehow comfortable there, clothing strewn close around them. Nim moaned imperceptibly as she lifted her head from Dean's shoulder, brushing her lips against his skin, her hand curling to skim her fingertips through the short crop of hair on the back of his head. "You called me 'baby'," she murmured, a pleased if teasing grin touching her face. "Or were you talking to the car?"

Dean felt that sleepy kind of contentment that comes with post-coital bliss, eyes closed as he rested against her, knowing they couldn't rest here forever, but lacking the motivation to move just yet. He murmured a groggy reply, muffled as it was with his lean against her. "Mmm, did I" Must've slipped out." He didn't really remember saying it. He'd never called anyone Baby before but his car.

She laughed huskily, drawing her fingertips down from his neck along the groove of his spine as her lips brushed a soft kiss or seven against the crook of his shoulder. She, too, knew they couldn't stay here forever, but how often did hunters agree to bind themselves together quite so firmly' Who knew what the reactions were going to be, too' Smiling, she let her head fall back, turning to bump her nose to his once again. "That's the kind of thing to make a girl melt, you know," she murmured, half serious, half teasing. "Putting her in the same league as your car."

He sighed, her kisses and caresses further lulling him into a state of temporary tranquility. "She's been good to me. More faithful than most women I've known, present company excluded." His fingers lazily combed through her hair and trailed over a bare shoulder. "I missed you," he told her quietly, not qualifying the statement with an explanation of what he meant by it exactly. He'd only been missing a few days and during that time, and during that time, he'd still been with her, but a future form of her. Or did he mean that he'd missed her after she'd died, or both"

She shivered lightly in the wake of his fingers against her skin, another soft, barely-there moan escaping from her throat in reaction to the gentle caress. Nim didn't really know what he meant by having missed her, but she wasn't going to argue it, curling her palm to his cheek to nuzzle a tender kiss to his lips. "I missed you, too," she countered softly, and what did she mean by it' The loneliness of death that she didn't recall; the almost three years she had spent in Chicago, knowing something was missing; or was it simply the few hours that night when she hadn't known if he was alive or dead" "I love you."

He smiled, brushing an affectionate thumb against her cheek, a slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes as he responded as Han Solo had to Princess Leia. "I know." He quieted a moment as he simply savored the moment, too lazy and too content to move a muscle. He knew there were still things he needed to tell her, things he needed to explain, but not now. Later.

Nim snickered softly, blowing a hank of golden blonde hair out of her eyes as she nuzzled to him fondly. "If we get encased in carbonite right now, when someone thaws us, I'll whup your a$$ for tempting fate," she warned him cheerfully, very gently stretching her back out in a seemingly innocent motion.

"Oh, would you wear the Princess Leia slave outfit for me" That's always been a secret fantasy of mine." And of every red-blooded straight male since the movie came out. A groan issued from his throat as she stretched out, rekindling the ember of desire that was ever so slowly fading. He leaned close to leave a few open mouthed kisses against her neck when the muffled sound of Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven could be heard coming from somewhere in the direction of his jeans. "Son of a..."

She'd been close to moaning once more as his mouth touched her skin, the sound morphing into a rueful laugh as the insistent little tune made itself known, refusing to go away. She sighed, leaning back against the door. "You should get that," she said regretfully. "Before they start sending out search parties."

There were only a few people who it could be on the phone, who knew him here, who knew his number, who knew he was still alive. Bobby and Brian were two of them. Other than that, he wasn't really sure. Dean scowled, annoyed at being so rudely interrupted, but thinking she was probably right. The problem was that his phone was still in his jeans, which had been tossed carelessly onto the floor, along with the rest of their discarded clothes, and he was reluctant to detach himself from her embrace long enough to reach for it. "They can wait," he replied, his lips tracing the curve of her neck.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:09 EST
"Dean ..." Her voice was a laughing whine as he turned his attention back to her, unable to keep herself from responding with the soft sounds he knew exactly how to raise from her, her hands smoothing down over his sides. "They're gonna be pissed," she predicted in a low groan, one hand falling to grope around on the floor of the car to try and locate his phone before he distracted her completely.

He ignored the logic of her argument, one hand sliding upwards against the flat of her stomach to a soft, round peak that was still hidden behind a bit of silk and lace, his lips finding the place just below her ear, at the base of her neck where he knew she was vulnerable. Just because he was with her future self for the last two days didn't mean he was getting any. When he said he'd missed her, he'd meant it, in more ways than one. He mumbled an incoherent response that was more moan than actual words.

Her mouth fell open, releasing a long breath against his ear, her hand stilled in its slow search to rise instead and find a firm, possessive grip at his back as a shuddering undulation rippled down her spine. "Oh god ..." Her face turned to his, trailing kisses of her own over his skin as she answered his moan with her own. And just moments after Stairway To Heaven rang off, Don't Fear The Reaper started up, even more muffled given that she was actually lying on the jeans that encased her phone.

He smirked as he heard her phone go off, the irony of the chosen tune not striking him just yet, and he dragged his lips toward her ear, breathing quietly, "Don't you think you should get that?" One hand cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing at the fabric to tease what lay beneath. He was obviously ready for another go, though he knew they should probably answer their phones so that whoever was on the other end didn't worry something was wrong. He guessed it was most likely Bobby, as it would take Brian some time to get to South Dakota and he assumed Bill didn't know their phone numbers yet.

She laughed softly, digging her nails lightly into his back in silent protest at the way he turned her mild scolding around onto herself. Did he really think she was going to be able to do anything but feel and respond while he was playing with her" "We might end up with Apollo in here with us," she mused in a soft murmur, nipping affectionately at his jaw. "You know, if Bobby decides to send him looking."

"Sorry, not sharing," he muttered against her neck, his lips moving back to capture hers, fusing their lips together, his kiss tender for eager for more, just a sample of what he was planning to give her when they were alone later. "Besides..." he said between kisses, "Bobby hasn't met him yet." Both hands cupped her breasts, his fingers gently kneading, kisses insistent, and there went his phone again. He broke away with an exasperated sigh and a frustrated expletive. "Damn it!"

She let out a frustrated sigh of her own, her head falling back against the window with a not inconsiderable thump. "You wanna yell at him, or should I?" she suggested, her hand dropping once again to the floor, this time moving straight for the denim pocket where that phone resided, drawing it free. She held it between them, amused regret flaring in her expression. "We should be on our way anyway."

"No, I suppose I should talk to him," Dean replied with a sigh, reluctantly taking the phone from her as he pulled away. "He can at least wait 'til I've got my pants back on," he grumbled, setting the phone on the dash and leaning over to rummage for his shorts and jeans. "No patience."

"What, you mean you don't want me distracting you while you're talking to that grumpy old man?" Nim asked him sweetly, groaning as yet again Dean's phone rang off and hers started up. She arched her back, pushing against him to try and sit up, not entirely convinced he wasn't pinning her down for his own entertainment. "Move, you, I'm not stayin' naked while you cover up."

"No, he'll figure out what?s going on, and I'll never hear the end of it," Dean replied. That was, if Bobby hadn't figured out what was going on already. "How long was I gone?" He thought he remembered her saying it had only been a few hours. Not nearly enough to break out the Missing posters or place ads on milk cartons, but enough to worry her, at least. He frowned at her suggestion to move, not really wanting the moment to end just yet. "I'm not done with you yet. We're picking this back up later, just so you know."

Her brow rose as she smirked faintly at his reply, giving up on pushing him away to wriggle down and rest comfortably on her elbows. "We'd better pick it up later," was her response to his warning, her lips curved in the warm lopsided smile as she reached up to smooth out his frown with a gentle thumb. "We were attacked about twenty to ten, and it's ..." She glanced at his watch. "It's about 4am now. You weren't gone that long, I just ....I freaked, and I spread it around."

"You were right to freak. If that had been you instead of me..." He broke off, leaving the rest unsaid - the part about her being dead. He'd alluded to it already, and he knew if it had been Nim who'd ended up in Sammy's bedroom, her future self most likely wouldn't have missed. He reluctantly rolled away, snagging his shorts off the floor and lifting his hips off the seat to wriggle back into them.

She watched him roll away, her gaze lowering to the bandage on his shoulder once again. She'd already recognised her own handiwork with a gunshot wound; it didn't take a genius to work out the rest in the face of his reluctance to finish particular sentences, or even to give up specific information. "I shot you." It wasn't a question; it was a calm statement delivered in a soft tone, even as she reached for her panties, sliding them up onto her hips with an awkward arch from the seat. "So if it had been me instead of you, I wouldn't have come back. Would I?"

"That's what Future You seemed to think," he confirmed, reluctant to tell her until she'd guessed on her own. "The plan was to use a rib bone from Chronos to send you to the future, where you'd shoot yourself. Sick bastard," Dean added with a snarl. "You know where I ended up?" he asked as he pulled his jeans up over his legs.

"I won't until you tell me." She didn't comment further on the death warrant Hades had thought up for her, lying on her back with her feet in the air to pull her own jeans onto her legs. She knew herself well enough to know that Dean was the only person she wouldn't shoot to kill on sight if she wasn't expecting to see him. One leg hooked over the back of the seat behind him as she lifted her hips, tugging the denim snug.

"Sammy's..." He broke off a moment, glancing over at her as she pulled her jeans on, turning serious. "Our son's bedroom. She thought I was an intruder. Lucky for me, she recognized me at the last minute. Your first aid isn't much better in the future, by the way," he teased, zipping his jeans and bending over to pull his boots on, one at a time. "Odd thing is, I met Chronos once. Sam and I..." He paused a moment as he mentioned his brother, thinking back on his past for the first time in days. "Said he was tired of his life and just wanted something normal." The irony of that statement struck Dean for a moment as he tied his boots up.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:13 EST
Pushing herself to sit up, she stuck her tongue out at him as he passed comment on her first aid, reaching over to pull the bandage free with a snap. The skin beneath was whole again - not even a scar to show for the injury, thanks to Apollo's touch. "Naked man standing over our son's crib, damned straight she shot you," she agreed with her future self's actions, shifting backward on the seat to pull her t-shirt on over her head, setting her phone beside his on the dash. They were both ringing now; either Bobby was calling from two phones, or Bill Harvelle was there with him. "If they've got Chronus' ribs, that kinda means he's in bits now, right?"

"Ow!" Dean exclaimed as Nim ripped the bandage off his skin, glancing over to see that the wound had been healed, most likely thanks to Apollo. Well, that explained why it wasn't hurting anymore. He reached over to rub at the place where she'd shot him, not even a scar to prove it had happened. "That seems a logical conclusion, but the question is would they try using them again?" He snagged his t-shirt off the floor and pulled it on over his head, feeling almost naked without a jacket, even though it was a warm summer night.

"That's a scary thought," Nim mused quietly, bending to tug her boots onto her feet, casting a brief glare at the non-stop cellphones jarring their tunes against one another on the dash. Her fingers flickered to tie the laces snug before she sat back, dark eyes turning to Dean warily. "Time to pick up." One hand reached for her phone, checking the caller ID with a small frown before lifting the piece to her ear. "Brian, what the hell?"

He tugged the hem of his shirt down over his jeans, frowning over at her as she answered her phone, feeling unsettled at the thought of the chaos Hades could create if he tried that little time travel trick again. He watched as she answered the phone, noticing the frown and knowing Brian was probably worried about her. He was, after all, the closest thing she had to a father here. While Bill Harvelle might be her biological father back home, in this world, he didn't even know her. Dean grabbed his own phone off the dash, figuring it was time to face the music, wincing in preparation for the scolding he knew was coming as he finally answered the phone. "Yeah?"

The car was silent for a moment, two voices distorted by the journey through the airwaves matching one another in tone and volume as the two hunters listened for a moment. Then Nim interrupted Brian, rolling her eyes. "Everything's fine," she promised the man she considered the closest thing to a father. "Seriously, it's all fine, we're fine, no one's hurt or dead ....We were ....busy, all right?" She lowered her forehead to her hand, embarrassed at having to pass on this information at all.

The conversation with Bobby was a similar one, though more than likely punctuated by a lot more cussing on the other end of the phone as Bobby expressed his annoyance, which Dean knew was really just worry. Like Brian was to Nimue, Bobby was the only thing close to family Dean had left. "I'm fine, Bobby. I'll explain everything when we get there. Yeah, I know it's dangerous. I'm being careful, all right?" Dean sighed. "That wasn't my fault." He rolled his eyes at Nim as he listened to Bobby's lecture on the other end.

She met Dean's gaze with a half-smile, refusing to be annoyed by the berating going on by her ear. "Yeah, but what a way to go, right' ....All right, give it up. We'll see you at Bobby's ....Be safe, Brian. Oh, and bring my guitar, would you? Thanks." She slid the phone back into her pocket, letting her head drop back against the seat as her hands rose to rub her face wearily. "I swear those two are worse than old women."

"We just got sidetracked is all. We'll be there soon. Try not to worry." Dean held up a finger to let Nim know he was almost finished, the voice on the other end loud and irate enough for Nim to hear it from a few feet away. "Yeah, yeah. I know. There'll be time for that later. What' Would you stop worrying" You're like a mother hen, for Chrissakes. I can drive in my sleep." He paused again as Bobby went on. "I gotta go. See you in a few hours." He hung up with a sigh. "Christ, he's a worry wart."

Dropping her hands into her lap, Nim let out a giggling laugh, genuinely amused by the two men who were almost constantly on their case no matter where they went or what they did. "I'd say it's because he loves you, but I think you might clock me one for it," she chuckled, lifting her head to look over at him. Her hand rose to stroke the back of her fingers against his cheek. "Later?"

"No, I'd say that's pretty..." He was about to confirm her statement about Bobby's feelings for him, when she touched his cheek, derailing him from his thoughts. He turned to face her, his expression softening. "Damn straight later. I haven't had any in two days!" he smiled, teasing her just a little, confirming the fact that, no, he hadn't made love to her future self, even if he'd wanted to.

"Oh, really?" she laughed, her brows rising cheerfully as she grinned over at him. "'Cos, you know, I kinda recall being on my back a few minutes ago, with you gettin' some right there." Dark eyes sparkled over at him playfully, her nose wiggling as she drew her fingers down his arm. "Or doesn't that count yet?"

He smiled as he reached for the keys and restarted the engine. "It counts. It always counts." If he was lucky, he'd restart her engine later. "But that was just a preview," he smirked back, her touch stirring something deep inside him. Not desire exactly, more a sense of belonging. "Should I prepare a speech for Brian?" he asked, as he turned his head, shifting into Drive, and pulling back out onto the road.

"Oh, hell no," she laughed again, shifting close to lean against his side as she settled into the familiar, soothing rumble of the Impala bearing them along deserted roads. She couldn't have said why, but she needed to touch him, to have some point of contact, the revelations of the past hour bringing home all too clearly how close she'd come to losing him. "You get to explain it to your grumpy old woman, and I'll deal with mine."

He wound an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against him, steering the car with one hand. He tipped his head toward her to press a kiss against her forehead before looking back at the road, dark and mostly deserted this time of night. If they were lucky, they'd get to Bobby's an hour or so after sunrise. "That's not what I was talking about. I was talking about the 'Can I marry your daughter' speech."

She smiled faintly, one hand lying fondly on his thigh, the other rising to link her fingers with his where they lay on her shoulder. "Does that mean I have to ask Bobby if I can marry his son?" she asked curiously, not entirely sure how she felt about that. Bobby tended to either ignore her or tell her off, depending on his mood and the situation; she wasn't sure he approved of her at all.

He laughed. "Only if you want to give him a heart attack," he said, his fingers linking with hers. "We'll be there in a few hours You should try and get some sleep," he told her suddenly, knowing she had to be exhausted, probably as exhausted as he was, if not more.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:15 EST
She didn't argue, exactly, but there was no way she was going to sleep until they were home and dry at Bobby's. She'd never been there herself, but if he was anything like Brian, that house was a place of safety for anyone who walked the line between the natural and supernatural. "I'll live," she said softly, her eyes automatically scanning the darkness around them as they drove north. "Besides, last time I relaxed, someone stabbed you with a rib."

He frowned as she reminded him of that moment. Had it really only been a few hours ago' "I wanna watch the sun come up," he told her quietly, turning serious again, glancing momentarily east, but it would be a couple of hours yet. And then I wanna sleep for about two days straight, he thought to himself. Dean was confident they'd be safe at Bobby's for now, but he also knew no place completely safe. Bobby had died in the future, as had Brian and Bill, all experienced hunters, and until they read over what Nim had written in the journal and learned how to defend themselves against Hades, they couldn't be too careful. "We've got a lot of work to do," he told her with a frown.

"Then I'll watch it come up with you," she told him firmly, gently loosing her fingers from his to catch up that precious journal from the seat with her discarded torch. "I guess I should get a head start on catching up with the important stuff, huh' There's gotta be some way to ward against these hybrid things, or at the least set up some kind of early warning system, and if there is, it's in here, right?"

"Yeah, Nim....You..." He tongue darted out briefly to lick at his lips, a little flustered as he tried to explain without confusing her or himself. He wondered if he should just start referring to her future self as Future Nim or something to alleviate the confusion. "I asked you to write it all down. Everything you could remember. Anything that might be important. I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but..." He broke off again, as he considered how much he should tell her. She was going to find everything out sooner or later, probably sooner. "Our house in the future is amazing. I think there might be a floor plan in there somewhere." He darted a glance at her as she flipped through the journal. He'd browsed the pages briefly, but hadn't taken the time to actually read any of it yet.

She snorted faintly at his confusion over which version of her he was referring to, slowly turning pages as she held the torch beam steady, scanning the familiar yet unfamiliar handwriting. "Why would we put a floor plan of our house in a hunting journal?" she asked curiously, one fingertip tracing an unfamiliar set of sigils drawn onto the paper with a heavy hand. "Is there something in particular that makes it so amazing?"

You're amazing, he thought to himself, in answer to her question, but he kept it to himself for now, only frowning as he thought of the Nim he'd met in the future, trying to somehow meld her with the Nim who was sitting here beside him, wondering if they were one and the same, or if they changed the future, she'd be different. "I, uh..." He seemed at a loss for words again for some reason. They were talking about the house. How'd he ended up thinking about her again? "Nim....Do you think we can do this" Change things" Change the future?"

"For the better, I hope," she said softly, a small frown deepening on her brow as she found the pages closer to the back of the journal filled with her own handwriting. Just a brief scan of the words told her more than she needed to know, more than she wanted to know about the world Dean had seen ahead of them. "We're not going to let this happen, Dean," she promised him. "We're not going to let our children grow up in this horrible world written in this diary."

"I didn't want to leave you there," he admitted, quietly, brows furrowing in dismay, feeling a sense of guilt for abandoning her, but knowing it was the only way. "But I had to. I had to get back here. I didn't belong there. I have to try and make things right, Nim. I can't let it happen that way."

"It won't," she insisted, twisting to look up at him. "Don't make me order you to pull over again." Holding her place in the journal with one finger, she gave him a look that was an early version of the no-nonsense stare he'd been on the recieving end of several times during his jaunt into the future. "You're already changing things. This says that Bill Harvelle died in the Roadhouse yesterday. Clearly, that didn't happen this time around, since he's on his way to Bobby's. So stop hurting over this. You didn't leave me anywhere; I'm right here, and I'm going to be right here with you all the way into that future and beyond, you hear me?"

"Yeah..." he replied, hearing her, knowing she was right. He paused before continuing, remembering the harsh words they'd shared in the future before he'd come back. How tired she'd seemed of hearing him talk about Hell and everything he'd gone through there. They'd both suffered; he'd never denied that, but he felt like he'd been carrying the weight of the world for too long, and he wanted to lighten the load. "It's just....Demons, angels, gods....I've spent my whole life fighting to keep the world from going dark. Why can't they just leave us alone" Let us live our own lives" You know, back home...."

He broke off, his grip on the steering wheel tightening unconsciously. No, he wasn't going to tell her about that. It was better to leave well enough alone. "I never understood why the angels wanted the Apocalypse. It was like they wanted to burn it all and start over. Why would they want that' Why does Hades want that' I don't understand."

Her frown returned when he prevented himself from continuing, dark eyes narrowing as he then went on without expounding on the subject. What aren't you telling me" she wondered, touching her cheek to his shoulder as her hand settled against his thigh once again. "Maybe the concept of free will was a good idea until they all realized that it means they can't make us do anything unless we agree to it," she suggested thoughtfully. "What didn't you tell me, just then?"

What didn't he tell her? There was a lot he wasn't telling her, a lot he thought she wasn't ready to know, maybe would never know, a lot he was holding inside. That particular thought was like opening a can of worms, but then his whole life was a can of worms. Sure as hell wasn't like a box of chocolates, except maybe for a few tiny perks. Nim was one of them. The particular worm can that he came so close to mentioning contained Leviathan. He gnawed thoughtfully at his lip a moment before continuing. He hoped they weren't about to have the Fate versus Free Will debate. He had given up on figuring that one out a long time ago. "There are worse things than demons, Nim," he told her finally, a little surprised to hear himself say it. There was a time there was nothing he loathed more than hellspawn, but things had changed.

A small frown furrowed her brows as he spoke, feeling more than hearing the surprise he felt, the memory of whatever it was he was thinking of rippling through him once again. And not for the first time, she envied that memory. She would have given almost anything to have her mind restored to her in full, accepted happily the bad with the good, if only she could remember just who she was and where she had come from. Her fingers curled against his thigh, a gentle reminder that here and now was somewhere new and different and not so very dangerous right at this moment. "There would have to be," she said in a soft voice. "They have to have learned it from somewhere."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:20 EST
He glanced aside to arch a brow at her, never having thought of it that way before. It was a new perspective and one he found interesting. "Yeah, but from where?" He turned back to watch the road, the warmth of her body so close to his radiating through him, her touch comforting and reassuring, reminding him that it was just the two of them and he could tell her anything. "You ever wonder about that' How it all started?"

A small flicker of a smile touched her face at his question, the journal still lying in her lap as they talked the miles away, creeping closer and closer to sunrise and Bobby's place. "Isn't that where faith is supposed to come in?" she asked softly. "Not that I really believe in anything that the major religions try to force on people. Sure, demons are real; angels are real; things that are powerful enough to call themselves gods are real ....but that doesn't mean any of them had a hand in creating us. I don't think I believe in the Great Good and the Great Evil. I think I believe in balance; that to have one, you have to have the other, however appalling it is. And whatever created that balance is no more interested in what happens to us than an indifferent God or a vengeful Devil."

His frown deepened as he considered her argument. He hadn't had a discussion like this in ages with anyone. There had a been a time when he and Sam used to park the Impala under the stars, share a few beers, and talk about the meaning of life, but that hadn't happened in a very long time - they'd been too busy trying to stay alive and save the world. "God," he mused. "I'm not sure I believe in God, though I've been told he believes in me."

"That doesn't mean he cares." Perhaps it was a cold thing to say, a callous disregard of the beliefs of billions of people all around the world, but then ....those billions of people knew nothing of the darkness that stalked them on the edges and in the shadows. Nim had a somewhat bleak view of any kind of so-called benevolent being. "If he cared about any of us, he wouldn't let the other side win so many battles without even lifting a finger to help."

"He lifted a finger," Dean pointed out, wondering why he suddenly found himself defending a God he wasn't even sure he believed in. "If it wasn't for Him, I don't think I'd still be here, but..." Dean trailed off again, furrowing his brows thoughtfully, feeling conflicted. If God had lifted a finger to save him once or twice, does that mean He cared" Or was it something else. "Michael once told me that there's no such thing as Free Will, that everything is pre-ordained, but if that's true, then what?s the point of living?"

"This is the same Michael that was trying to force you into giving up your mind and body so he could fulfil what he considered to be his own destiny, without a moment's concern for what that would do to you, your brother, or the rest of the world?" Nim queried, her tone gentle despite the point being made. "If that perception of God is real, and therefore he is real, then we should always be on the winning side, Dean. That Christian perception of God states that he created evil, and is therefore it's master. I haven't seen anything to prove that. Have you?"

Dean licked his lips uncertainly. This was the perfect time to tell her about Death. Why was he holding back" Shouldn't he tell her before they got to Bobby's" Before he broke the news to everyone else? Future Nim had thought it was a good plan, but what would Present Nim think" He quieted as he debated with himself back and forth before finally deciding to broach the subject. She was going to find out sooner or later. "So are you saying God is indifferent?" he answered her question with a question.

That was an interesting question, and not one she had actually thought over before. But now it was in the air, and she had the leisure to consider her reply, Nim realized she already knew her answer to that question. She just wished it wasn't quite so depressing. "No," she said quietly, lifting her head to study his expression, wanting to see his reaction to what she was about to say. "I think if there is a God, then he's so old and so powerful that we're beneath his notice. We're just a speck in time to him, and why should he interfere with our individual lives" Everything ends, sooner or later."

His reaction to her answer was a deepening frown, his brows drawn downward as he considered her reply, reminded of his conversation with Death. Who came first" Dean had asked. God or Death' The chicken or the egg" Death had said that they were both so old, neither remembered anymore, nor did it seem to matter. Why, then, did it matter to him' "Does everything really end, or does it just keep changing?" he asked, debating her statement. How many times had he died only to be resurrected somehow" Some might call that a miracle.

"The scientists say it's all just energy, and energy can't really be destroyed," she mused softly, laying her head back down onto his shoulder. To the east, the sky was beginning to lighten, the first hint toward dawn making itself known as philosophy tripped back and forth between the hunters. "They say it just morphs into something else. But not even the greatest advances in science can explain everything, and that's where faith becomes necessary." She frowned herself, disturbed by the trend of her thoughts. "I don't think I have faith in anything but what I can see and touch and achieve with my own hands. And that feels lonely."

They were getting close to Sioux Falls, but he planned on making at least one stop, maybe two, before they arrived, and now that the sky was lightening, he was looking for a good place to stop and watch the sunrise. "Faith," he mused again. "Faith is believing in something that can't be proven." He glanced briefly toward the eastern sky before pulling off the main road onto a road that was obviously less traveled and heading east. He frowned at her statement, having felt the same way more than once. "I gave up on God a long time ago, but they say God works in mysterious ways." Though it was Aphrodite who had brought them together, he wondered if God had had anything to do with it.

"Maybe it doesn't matter what you believe," she murmured, lifting her head to look across the lightening sky. It's always darkest before the dawn. It was such a familiar phrase in her mind and yet, she was certain Brian had never used it around her, nor any of the hunters who had passed through the Landing. Was it some part of her life before this reality making itself known from the blankness of Joanna Beth Harvelle's memory still" "Maybe what matters is whether or not He believes in you, after all."

"You're not alone, Nim," he said suddenly, feeling as though he needed to remind her of that fact, for whatever reason. Whether or not God existed, whether he cared would probably always remain a mystery, but what they had together could not be denied, and he wasn't going to let anyone take it away from them again. He pulled the car to the side of the road for the second time that night and turned off the engine, turning his head toward the slowly lightening sky in the east, as his hand reached for hers. "Watch the sunrise with me?" he asked, as he looked her way.

She wasn't often given to such quiet, reflective moods, preferring to bull through her doubts rather than linger and analyze them. But with Dean, it was safe to study how she thought and felt; somehow she knew that he'd never judge her for those doubts and lingering resentments. Her head turned, dark eyes meeting his as a pensive smile curved her lips. "Yeah," she agreed in a whisper, leaning close enough to touch her forehead to his for a brief, tender moment. "Been a while since I saw you in sunshine." The span of a single night, or several, depending on whose perception you looked at it from.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:22 EST
He mirrored her smile, as she touched her forehead to his, bringing her hand up to brush his lips against her knuckles. "You are my sunshine," he told her quietly and rather uncharacteristically, wondering what made him say that. He'd never been much of a romantic before; any hopes of romance been dashed early on by the life he was forced to lead. Maybe Aphrodite was putting thoughts in his head, or maybe he really did have a heart.

Or perhaps romance was just where you found it. Nim didn't need or expect effusive declarations or deeply thought out actions; the most unconsidered moment in Dean's company was more romantic than anything she'd experienced before. The pensive cast to her smile faded at his words, leaving behind just the sweetness, the girl-next-door innocence that never truly seemed to leave her. "C'mon," she told him lovingly. "I want to feel the sunrise as well as watch it." With supreme reluctance, she slid away from him, opening the passenger door to step out of the car, trusting in Apollo's promise to mask them from their enemies a while longer.

It was as if she was reading his wishes and intentions or maybe they just thought alike. Either way, he, too, wanted not just to watch the sunrise, but to feel it, to bask in it, to experience the start of a brand new day with all of his senses. He pushed open the driver's side door and climbed out of the car, taking a moment to stretch after being cooped up for so long. He arched his back and stretched his arms over his head, wincing a little at the ache of sore muscles.

His stretching was accompanied by the unsettling sound of Nim deliberately cracking her spine as she, too, stretched, dropping her own arms to shake her hands out as she moved around to stand in front of the Impala. Her face turned toward the glimmer of light on the horizon, the promise of sunlight and warmth to push away the chill of the night on her arms and send Hades' little minions back to the pit to wait out the day ahead of them.

Once he was done stretching, he, too, turned toward the brightening sky, toward the figure of the woman he loved silhouetted against the morning sky, her hair as gold as a field of wheat blowing softly in the breeze. He felt a yearning deep inside, suddenly wishing for a simpler life, one where they could watch the sunrise every morning without fear. He watched her for a moment as she stood there in the morning light before going to her, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms about her waist to hold her close as they watched the new day dawn together. It seemed like it had been forever since he'd seen the sunrise, though it had only been two days. "Funny how we take it for granted, isn't it?"

She seemed almost oblivious to him until he touched her, shaken from wherever her thoughts had taken her by the reassuring warmth of his arms as he wrapped her close against his chest. Her hands smoothed over his arms, her body leant back trustingly into him, for a moment gazing up not at the brightening sky but into his face with undisguised, unabashed adoration painted in her eyes.

As he spoke, her gaze returned to watch that first sliver of the morning sun peek above the horizon, feeling the first touch of sunshine warmth against her skin as she smiled, those lingering doubts soothed away by the natural miracle of the sunrise. "I couldn't imagine a world without sunlight," she murmured quietly, tearing her eyes from the rising sun to look up at him, her hand lifting from his to curl lovingly to his jaw. "Or a world without you."

His face looked different in the sunlight, younger, almost boyish, as if the sun painted him in a different light once the darkness of night had fled. "We have to make sure it doesn't happen, Nim," he tore his eyes away from those first golden rays of morning to look into her face, amazed by the undisguised love that was reflected in her eyes. He closed his eyes briefly as her hand touched his face, wishing he could stay in this moment forever, touched deeply by her honest declaration of love. Slowly, his eyes opened, bright with tears, his voice soft and full of emotion. "Marry me, Nimue."

It didn't matter in that moment that she'd already asked him the same question, that they both already knew what the answer would be. All that mattered was his eyes burning into hers, sharing the unspoken bond between them back and forth, looping it over and over and letting it grow in strength with each moment of sharing. Her own voice trembled as she whispered her reply, not even a hint of hesitation or regret to color her response. "Yes," she promised him with fiercely burning determination. "Just say when."

It didn't matter than he'd only been here in this world for a few weeks, that she didn't remember him from before, that she called herself Nimue instead of Jo, or that marrying her meant never going home. This was his home now - this world with her by his side. He'd lost her once; he wasn't going to lose her again. There was so much they had to talk about still, and yet, at that moment, it seemed that none of it mattered. All that mattered was that they were together, and that they had made a committment to always be together. He turned her to fully face him, smiling down at her, hearing the emotion in her voice that she wasn't bothering to hide from him. "When," he replied, sealing his promise with a kiss.

His smile melted into her own as he kissed her, the promise sealed iron-clad whether they ever told another soul or not. If a marriage was just an exchange of promises, then they had made that commitment almost the moment words of love had been exchanged between them weeks before. All that remained was for the others they loved and who loved them to witness and accept the promises made, whether they approved or not. She broke the kiss with a soft laugh as a less than PG thought occurred to her. "Later?" The question was teasingly light, accompanied by a soft sweep of her thumb over his lips as she grinned up at him.

He smiled back at her, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days and not only because of the emerging sunrise. "Gonna have to be later. We gotta get to Bobby's before he sends out a search party." Though he looked like he was really in no hurry to jump back in the car and take once more to the road. He sighed softly, a small frowning chasing the smile from his face as a thought occured to him, feeling guilty for not telling her already. They'd shared so much these past few hours, and yet, he knew he was holding back. "Nim, there's something you should know."

Her hands smoothed down his arms as his smile faded behind a frown, recognizing this expression as having little to do with her. It was turned inward, and until she knew what he was frowning about, she couldn't help him wipe that frown away. "I'm listening," she told him softly, her full attention given over to him in the deepening sunrise.

Why couldn't he just be happy for more than five minutes without worrying about something" Maybe it was the fact that he wanted no secrets between them. Wasn't that part of the advice Future Nim had written in the journal for Present Nim' No secrets. But where did one draw the line" How much was too much' Some secrets were meant to be kept because to share them was just too painful. "I had to make a deal to get back here." She hadn't yet asked how he'd returned, what it had cost him, and in truth, it wasn't such a huge price to pay, but he wanted her to know before he broke the news to Brian and Bobby.

She stilled in his arms, no doubt recalling the fervent half-promises they had made to one another not so very long ago that neither would make any deals. It had meant so much to him at the time; what had he seen in the future to change his mind so dramatically' Now her frown matched his, she gazed into his eyes, trying to reserve judgement until he had told her everything. "What was the deal, and who was it with?" she asked quietly.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:25 EST
"It was the only way to get back here, the only thing I could think of. I needed to get back here, to change things. I couldn't leave you and Sam there in that world with no hope for the future. This is where I belong, Nim. Here, with you. I know it sounds crazy. I never thought I'd feel this way, but after seeing you with our son....This is where I belong, this is where I want to be." No, that hadn't answered her question, but it did explain why he'd done what he'd done.

She listened, studying his face, his eyes, as he eased his way toward answering her question, understanding that he had felt he had no other choice. What she didn't understand was what made this deal any different to the deals he had all but forbidden her to make, should she ever feel the urge. But she was prepared to wait for his explanation to continue on, patient for the details he had yet to divulge.

There was only one way to tell her and that was just to say it, to come out with it, to be done with it. He hoped she'd understand and forgive him. Her future self had agreed it was the only way; he hoped this Nim felt the same. "I made a deal with Death," he told her bluntly. "But not for my soul or yours or anyone else's," he added quickly before she could jump to any foregone conclusions.

For a moment, her face was completely blank, the only sign of reaction the flare of alarm in the dark depths of her eyes as she stared up at him. Her fingers clenched against his arms, a tremble discernible through her body. "What was the deal?" she repeated, her voice tense and tight, needing to know.

His expression tensed, dreading her reaction to what he was about to tell her, but wanting no secrets between them. He'd had very few choices, and at the time, this one had seemed the most promising. He was not only returned to her place in time, but if all went well, the world might not be plunged into darkness after all. "Crowley has his scythe. He wants it back. Simple as that." Which, of course, wasn't simple at all.

If she had been in full possession of her memory, or if Brian had kept her fully informed, no doubt her reaction would have been instantaneous. As it was, Nim had no idea who this Crowley was, or how and why Death's scythe had fallen into someone else's hands. She nodded slowly, not believing for one moment that there was anything simple about this decision of his. "And Crowley is?"

Dean frowned as he realized Brian had not informed her of Crowley's existence, though he had to assume the man knew of him. If Crowley didn't exist in this reality, Death would have mentioned it, wouldn't he" Back home, Dean had already returned Death's scythe, just before he and Sam had sent Lucifer into the pit. "A demon," Dean replied. "The thing is....I did this before, back home. Nim, Death's blade can..." He broke off, worrying not for the first time during their little road trip that someone else might be listening. "You just have to trust me, okay' I'll explain everything when we get to Bobby's."

"You know I trust you," she reminded him quietly, wondering in the back of her mind why she wasn't surprised to learn that Death had sent them in search of a demon. If they were going to have a fighting chance against Hades, the denizens of Hell were logical allies, no matter how it might gall them. "The sooner we set off, the sooner we'll be there."

Dean knew it was going to be tricky business dealing with Crowley, not just because they both hated each other, but because he wasn't to be trusted. He was bound to double-cross them somehow, and they were going to have to be one step ahead of him at all times. He sighed, slightly relieved that she wasn't angry at him, but a little annoyed at himself for ruining what could have been a romantic moment. "Yeah, I guess," he replied. "I just....I didn't have any choice."

Her hands rose to cradle his face between her palms, rising on her toes to touch her forehead to his lightly. "I never thought for a moment you'd agree to something like that if you did have a choice," she assured him in a low, fervent tone. "You're not going to want to talk about this more than you have to, so there's really no rush to get to Bobby's. Brian's not going to beat us there, and I'm not going to let you upset yourself talking about it more than you have to." Her brows rose, daring him to object.

He smiled down at her as she took charge of the situation, reminding him of the Nimue he'd met in the future. "Actually," he started, his mood shifting once again as he emerged from the gloom, a hint of a teasing gleam in his eyes. "I was thinking breakfast. I'm starving." Somehow, it was just like Dean to think of either his libido or his appetite at a time like this, though to be fair, he hadn't eaten in hours, not since breakfast earlier that day back in 2016.

"Breakfast, then." She nodded in agreement, her lips quirking into the familiarly lopsided smile he knew so well. "Let me guess, you know just the place." Her smile widened to a grin, lips touching his once again as her hands skimmed down from his cheeks to his chest. "I swear, you're completely ruled by your id most times."

His lips smiled against hers, seemingly happy now that she'd agreed to breakfast. The sun had nearly risen; it was time for coffee and eggs and toast and sausage and anything else he could get his hands on. Breakfast was, by far, his favorite meal of the day, when he was up early enough to partake of it. "What's my id?" he asked, unfamiliar with the word. "Is that my IQ or something" I may be a high school drop out, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

She grinned back at him, rippling her fingertips down over his abdomen, blatantly enjoying the feel of him under her hands even through his t-shirt. "The id's that part of your brain that's all about what you want, rather than what you need or what you should do. You're always feeding your id." It wasn't the best explanation, of course, but it made her laugh, knowing it was only partly true in the first place.

He smirked, feeling like he was returning to his old self. "Nim, I think you have my id mixed up with my stomach. I haven't eaten in ages!" He tensed just a little as her fingers slid against his stomach, hypersensitive to her touch. "And yes, I do know just the place. Best pancakes in South Dakota. Coffee's not half bad either." Was there any diner Dean hadn't tried at one time or another during his travels across the country' Probably, but once he found a good one, he tended to stick with it.

"Oh?" she laughed, tucking her fingertips into the waist of his jeans just to see how far he was going to let her tease him before taking charge of his stomach's needs. "So you don't want to eat at all, then" It's purely a matter of something that you have to do, huh?" Dark eyes twinkled in the warming sunshine as she giggled up at him.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:27 EST
Now that the morning sun was shining, it seemed to dispell the worries and fears of the nearly endless night. "If you keep that up, we'll never get to Bobby's," he warned, pushing her hair back from her neck and leaning down to leave a few warm kisses just below her ear.

Dammit, she'd completely lost control of the situation now. A husky laugh ghosted against his ear as his lips teased that sweet spot he knew was a direct line to her libido. "You're the one going straight for the kill," she teased playfully, catching his earlobe lightly between her teeth as her hands smoothed around to his hips. A soft, shuddering sigh of a moan rippled from her lips as she swayed into him. "You're way too good at that ..."

He smirked again, having a little bit of fun teasing her, somehow able to resist only because of the looming prospect of pancakes and sausage. He whispered huskily in her ear, his breath warm against her neck, as his hands slid around behind her and grabbed firm hold of her rear, pulling her against him. "Mmmm, pancakes." Grinding his hips against her, he teased further. "Wanna taste of my sausage?"

She squeaked softly, caught up against him in that grabby hold with another low chuckle, echoing the possessive grasp on his rear as she murmured into his ear. "Oh, baby, I don't think you could take it on an empty stomach." She smacked his backside, squeezing just a little before releasing him. "All right, princess, hands off. Or there will be no breakfast." How was that for a threat"

Dean laughed, for just a moment forgetting about the dark cloud that was hanging over their heads, as though banished by the morning light, the promise of a new day. The world would go on, for at least a little while. "You know, we could kill two birds with one stone by having food sex," he teased, combining two of Dean's favorite pasttimes - eating and sex. He smooched her cheek before turning away to climb back into the driver's seat. "How much do you wanna bet Bobby will call again before we're done with breakfast?"

"Food sex?" Nim couldn't help laughing at that, trailing her fingers down over his abdomen as he turned away from her in one last tease before he was out of reach. "You're not seriously thinking about involving pancakes and sausages in sex. Are you?" Drawing the passenger door open, she dropped back onto the front seat with him, snickering to herself. "You know, anyone would think you were out past curfew."

"Oh, there's definitely some sausage involved," Dean smirked at her over the top of the car. "But I was thinking more along the lines of syrup." He pulled open the door and climbed inside as she did, leaning forward to turn the key in the ignition, the Impala's engine purring like a kitten, at least, to Dean's ears. "He's like a mother hen sometimes," he replied, regarding Bobby. "He's the closest thing to a father I've got."

The smirk did nothing to help her try and gain some level of composure as he drew the car back to life once again, the flush on her cheeks nothing to do with embarrassment or temperature at all. Hearing him speak so fondly of Bobby, however, reminded her of her own father-figure, and the fact that within a couple of days he was going to come face to face with the man who had been her actual father in another time and place. A faint frown touched her brow as she worried briefly over Brian's reaction to that encounter. "We're lucky to have folks like family."

"Yeah, we are," Dean agreed soberly, as he pulled out onto the road, heading back toward the main road. There was a little diner in town that he and Sam frequented on occasion, a place where they knew their names, and Dean frowned at the thought of that, wondering if maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Didn't everyone here think he was dead" Would they ask about Sam' Once he reached the main road, instead of heading toward Sioux Falls, he turned in the opposite direction. There was a truck stop they'd passed a ways back on the main road. While they might not have the best pancakes in South Dakota, there would be a lot less questions asked there.

Another person might have been alarmed by how erratic their shared mood was as the night progressed into morning, but Nim was used to it by now. The easy slip from euphoria to solemnity to playful levity to quiet reflection was just a way of life for them now, and it was easier to simply weather through those dips than meet them head on. Faint suspicion flared in her eyes as Dean turned away from Sioux Falls, but she didn't question it, trusting him to know what he was doing and where he was going. "Hey," she murmured softly, tracing a fingertip over the curve of his ear affectionately. "You still with me?"

Unaware of the conflict brewing inside her, the worries about what Brian might make of Bill, Dean's thoughts had turned toward his own father figure and how painful it had been to lose him back home, how Bobby's death had just about broken him for good. "Just thinking," he said, glancing toward her briefly as she touched him. "Sometimes it feels like I traded Sam for Bobby." And I traded Cas for you. "Is it selfish of me to be glad he's back?"

Her smile was sad for him as she answered, not yet understanding the sense of loss, but knowing just from the way he spoke how deeply it must have touched him in both cases. "No, I don't think so," she said quietly, letting her hand rest on his shoulder as her face turned forward. "Anyone would be pleased to see someone they thought was gone forever back on their feet."

"I wish I'd known Bill. From what you..." He broke off, almost slipping, almost thinking of her as Jo before catching himself. She was Jo, but she wasn't. Though like him, she wasn't from this world, she didn't remember her life as Jo and had no memory of her father. Maybe it was better that way. Remembering a man who had no knowledge of her would be more painful than not remembering. At least, Bobby had known him in this world. That part of his life was still the same. "I wish I could tell you about him, but I never knew him. Jo..." He broke off again, unsure how to refer to her former life, the life she didn't remember.

Death had said, in front of him, that Nim saw herself as two parts, two distinct people - one, the girl who had been Joanna Beth Harvelle, and the other, the woman she was now. She couldn't reconcile herself with a person she could not recall being, however much she tried. Her fingers squeezed Dean's shoulder gently, silently reassuring him that she didn't mind talking about Jo so much anymore. She didn't express her jealousy of the girl he remembered even through a glance. "What did she tell you about him?" she asked softly, trying to make it easier for him to go on.

Dean remembered what Death had told them, but he hadn't quite separated Jo from Nim just yet. To him, somewhere deep inside she was still Jo, and part of him worried what might happen if she ever remembered herself and his part in her life. Would she still feel the same" Would she still love him' Or would she blame him for her death, for her mother's death, maybe even for her father's death? He shrugged his shoulders, both hands curled against the steering wheel, a few cars passing them on the road now that morning had arrived - ordinary people going about their lives.

"She loved him. He was her hero. She became a hunter because of him." And my father was responsible for your father's death, Dean thought with a heavy heart. It seemed Jo had eventually come to terms with that, but Dean had not.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:31 EST
Nim nodded slowly, feeling no real connection with what he told her. She didn't remember Jo, couldn't remember Jo's father, and yet there was a flipping uncertainty deep in her belly at the prospect of meeting Bill Harvelle within a few hours. Would she see anything of herself in him, or would he be as much a stranger to her as Bobby had been on that first meeting" She shook her head, clearing her mind of those thoughts. They weren't worth worrying herself over. "You know it won't change anything, right?" she asked Dean very gently. "I don't know him from Adam. But I do need to meet him, if that makes any sense."

"You didn't know me either, Nim," Dean pointed out, remembering when he'd first arrived in this world, how her presence had shocked him. Though she hadn't consciously remembered him, there was an undeniable connection between them, remembered or not. "I always worried I wouldn't live up to..." He paused a moment to choose the proper pronoun, "...to her memory of him. My dad was there when he died, you know. Did I tell you that?"

"Yes, I did." She was quick to contradict his assertion that she hadn't known him. "I might not have known who you were right at first, but I knew you. Bill ....well, he's not a part of the world we came from; I don't have any connection with him." She bit her lip thoughtfully, considering what to go on with. "You told me your dad was responsible for his death. And I told you that isn't your burden to bear."

"Because he's not the Bill who was your father," Dean said, filling in the blanks of what she hadn't said, making the connection. "He won't know you or remember you, like I did." Having pulled onto the main road a few miles back, they passed a few farmhouses - spread out signs of civilization - and before long a truck stop with a large neon sign out front was coming into view. "I thought you blamed me once. I think Ellen worried history would repeat itself, and you'd get hurt because of me. I guess, in a way, she was right."

"Stop it." She twisted on the seat beside him, dark eyes raking over his face as she frowned, hating to hear him blame himself for something that was so far behind them, something that should have been put to rest long before he'd found her again. "You were no more responsible for Jo's choices than you are for mine. You might inform them, be a driving force behind how they're made, but they are my choices." And again, the fiercer she became in trying to convince him away from his self-destructive habit of casting blame entirely upon himself, the more blurred the line between Jo and Nim became in her own mind. "I chose. Not you, not my mom, not anyone. No one could have stopped me. And you need to accept that. I died for something I believed in with everything I was. You."

Dean clenched his jaw as he listened, purposely avoiding her gaze. She was making sense right up until the end. That was the kicker. "Me?" he exclaimed, glancing her way briefly, before pulling the Impala into the parking lot of the diner, at long last. Several trucks and cars already lined the lot, but Dean found a spot, holding his tongue until he had parked and turned the car off. He twisted sideways to face her, a scowl on his face.

"Do you even hear yourself" You died for me" I don't want you to die for me. How would you feel if I..." He broke off yet again, knowing he'd die for her in a second, sighing wearily as another thought came to mind. "I know it's not my fault. It was Lucifer and Meg and the hellhounds, but you know what? If it wasn't for all that, we wouldn't be together, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't," she answered him, her tone forceful as she met his scowl with a glare of her own, leaning toward him as though she could change his mind with the strength of her will. "Are you really going to keep feeling guilty for a series of events that brought us here" Apollo told us Aphrodite interfered in a spell that would have brought you and Sam here. If I hadn't made that sacrifice, if you hadn't grieved for me, the so-called goddess of love wouldn't even have known I existed. I'd still be dead, and you'd still be hurting." She sighed, dropping back as the anger bled out of her. "But I can't feel guilty for making the decision that brought that pain, Dean. Because it led to this. And there's nothing I could ever want more than to be with you, however it happened."

He listened quietly as he heard her out, everything she said making sense, but then why was his heart aching" He could have asked Apollo or Death to take him back to his own world, and he hadn't because of her. Because he knew he was right where he wanted to be. Though he and Sam might be dead in this world, they were alive back home, or so he'd been told. Sam probably didn't even know the difference. He and Nim - or Jo - had been given the gift of a life they could never have had back home, the gift of a future together, complete with family and friends who loved and cared for them. What more did he need or want than that'

"I'm sorry," he told her finally. "You're right. What's done is done. There's nothing that can change it, and I'm happy to be here with you. I'm just..." Just what, Dean' Afraid you're going to lose her again? Afraid you're going to screw it up somehow, like you've always screwed it up before" "I'm scared, Nim," he admitted finally, frowning. To admit he was afraid was humbling. He'd always prided himself on his courage - stupid, reckless courage, at times. He was Daddy's good little soldier after all, but it was one thing to be afraid of dying and quite another to be afraid of living.

Don't be sorry. Just hearing him apologize for the way he felt, the burden he didn't seem able to put down, was enough to break her heart. Her expression crumpled, moisture brimming in her eyes as she gazed at him, wishing she could help him. But all she could do was say what she had said before. "Being scared is part of being alive, baby," she said, taking in a shaking breath in a failed attempt to keep the soulful tears at bay before she upset him even more. "It's part of being in love. How do you appreciate each day that passes, if you think it's going to last forever?" Her hand rose, dashing the heel of her palm against her wet cheeks, her face turning away to try and disguise the ache she felt for him. "You can't hide in the past if you want to change the future. If you want to live."

He couldn't help but notice the tears in her eyes, though he wasn't sure what they were for. Was she disappointed in him' He hadn't meant to upset her; he only wanted her to know that this wasn't as easy for him as it was for her. She'd had nearly three years to adjust; he'd only had a few weeks. He'd just arrived back from a future so bleak he'd do most anything to avoid it, to save her from it, but he'd promised them both not to make the same mistakes again. There weren't going to be any sacrifices, not this time. Whether they triumphed or failed, it would be together. At least, that was what he told himself. He slid closer, reaching over to gently turn her face toward him again. "I want to live, Nim, but only with you in my life."

She sobbed softly, dragging in a hasty rasp of a breath as he turned her face back toward him, her hands rising to grip his collar tight, drawing herself close to him once again. Dark eyes burned into green through that film of unshed tears, fervent and fierce. "The only thing I'm scared of is losing you," she told him, her voice low, firm. "And I'm not just talking about death. Dean, I'm terrified that one day you're gonna disappear under all this guilt and anger and pain you carry around, and I know I won't be able to get you back. And there's no deal I can make that'll bring you back from that, either."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:34 EST
Dean's throat tightened, his heart aching as he realized how much pain he caused her because of his fears. Fears which really had nothing to do with her or this world. Fears and responsibilities that were so deep-seated in his psyche, so much part of the burden he'd carried since he was a boy, it was hard to cast them off, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

"Nim..." He brushed a thumb against her cheek, dashing away some of the wetness, needing to somehow make her understand how much she meant to him. "I'm not good with words. I don't know how to explain, but....You're the light in the darkness. You're my reason for living. God, if it wasn't for you..." He paused a moment to find the right words. "A lot of things happened after you....After Jo died. Bad things. Sam and I....We lost everything, and I....I lost hope. There were times when I didn't even want to live anymore, but you....It's not easy to forget, to put the past behind me, but I'm trying. You're my reason for living, Nim, and I'm not going to lose myself to despair so long as you're with me."

The harsh grasp of her fingers in the thin material of his t-shirt softened as he spoke, smoothing the fabric as her hands gentled to caress his skin with a delicate touch, as though he were the single most precious thing in the world. As though he was the one who needed protecting, all evidence to the contrary.

"So stop looking around the corner and guessing I won't be there," she told him determinedly, inching ever closer until she straddled his thighs, filling his perception with the reality that was her. She didn't care that they were in a relatively busy parking lot, that a casual glance would suggest something less innocent to the observer. The rest of the world could go hang for now. "We're gonna have a family. Our kids are gonna be so proud to have you as their dad. And we're still gonna be grossing them out with how much we love each other on their wedding days."

His hands traveled to her hips to hold her steady, as he found her straddling his thighs, forced to look into her eyes, to face her head on. There was no turning away from her, not so long as she held his gaze, so long as she tried to reach him. And reach him she did, his own eyes tearing up at the thought of having a family with her, of making a life with her. He wanted it so badly it hurt and was terrified something or someone was going to take it away, just as they always had in the past, but he wasn't going to let fear stop him, not now, not this time, not when he was so close. The thought of his own children being proud of him, of anyone being proud of him, made his heart swell with longing. He nodded his head at her, acknowledging and accepting what she was telling him, at a loss for words, his voice stuck in his throat.

Her gaze softened as he nodded, her arms curling about his neck as she leaned close to him. "You know what?" she murmured softly, the scolding, forceful tone replaced with the tenderness of intimacy as she gazed into his eyes, only having one more thing to say. "I'm not asking you to do anything but believe in me. Believe that I'm gonna be here through everything that's coming; that I will do whatever it takes to make that future a reality. That's all I'm asking."

"I do," he promised as tears brimmed in his eyes, his voice raspy with emotion. "I do believe in you, Nim. I believe in you more than I've ever believed in anything. You're not gonna lose me. I'm not gonna let that happen. I love you too much, and I want..." He hesitated before continuing, never having really put into words what he wanted before to anyone, but her. "I want to be part of a family again. I want us to be a family. You and me and our children. God, I want it so badly."

"It'll happen." Her voice was softer, gentler, more tender than it had been before, her fingertips trailing through the hair at the back of his neck as she leaned close, body to body, real and warm and unmistakably his, no matter what happened. "I promise you, it'll happen." She closed her eyes, breathing in the unique scent that was Dean, her forehead pressing to his. "We're almost there, already."

He circled his arms around her waist, holding her close, eyes drifting closed as she pressed her forehead against his, savoring the quiet and rarity of the moment, his heart slowing, stilling as she calmed him with her tender touch and soothing words. "I'm not gonna let anyone take you from me or ruin our future. Not this time," he told her quietly.

Slowly, her eyes opened once again, one hand sliding from his neck to lay her palm gently over the steady beat of his heart. The other trailed down his arm, unhooking his hand from her back, drawing his palm to rest over her heart. "This, right here," she whispered to him, every word, every syllable, a promise. "It's yours. And that's never going to change."

He felt the warmth of her hand against his chest, and he opened his eyes to find her looking back at him once again and guiding his hand to lay against hers. Heart to heart, it was a symbolic bond that connected them not only emotionally, but spiritually. It was, after all, a match made literally in heaven. "You really mean that," he said, almost in awe, hardly believing this was real.

"I really do." Beneath matched palms, she felt their hearts hit the same rhythm as her lips touched his. Just one simple, chaste kiss, and she drew back once again, her smile more in her eyes than curving her lips. "Breakfast?"

That one simple kiss was deeper and more fervent than the most passionate of lovers' embraces, the sharing of a bond and a promise of devotion, despite all the odds against them. He lost himself in that kiss a moment, before she pulled away, and his smile mirrored hers, even through a veil of tears. "I thought you'd never ask," he teased, the storm clouds gone, once again.

The smile blossomed onto her lips at his words, arms resuming their comfortable curl around his neck as she leaned into him, making absolutely no attempt to follow through on her suggestion. "I guess that means I have to move, right?" Her grin turned playfully rueful, the sparkle in her eyes challenging him to make her move.

"Unless you want to get us arrested for indecent exposure and lewd conduct in public, I'd say that's probably a good idea." His smirk returned, eyes dancing with amusement. "Besides, aren't you the one who said I can't take it on an empty stomach?"

She laughed, nuzzling a teasing kiss to his lips as her hands slid down over his arms, only breaking the tender touch when she began to shift off his lap. "You do know you gotta wait an hour after eating, right?" she snickered playfully. "Like swimming."

He chuckled, though it was apparent that something had stirred beneath her while she'd been sitting on his lap. Sometimes his body had a mind of its own. "I never have before," he replied, waggling his brows at her.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:36 EST
"Yeah, but I might make you wait this time," she threatened impishly, sliding away from him to open the passenger door. "C'mon, princess, before I decide to eat you instead." Was that a threat or a promise" It was hard to say, though the twinkle in her eyes definitely edged things toward the promise.

"You can eat me later and take your time doing it," he grinned back at her, pocketing the car keys and pushing open the door. He idly wondered if Bobby was going to insist on them sleeping in separate rooms so that he didn't have to listen to the bed banging in the middle of the night the way it had back in Chicago. For some reason, that thought amused him and he found himself chuckling as he climbed out of the car into the warm, morning sunlight.

Letting the door fall closed behind her, Nim reached her arms high, her back arching in a graceful curve as she stretched, showing off an inch or two of warm skin before her hands fell to her sides again. Dark eyes flickered across to her chuckling lover, faint suspicion touching her own smiling gaze. "What's so funny, Winchester?"

He rounded the car to join her, holding out a hand to lead her toward the diner, a mischievous smile on his face. "I was just wondering what Bobby's gonna do about sleeping arrangements." Dean had usually claimed the couch in the past, mostly because it was conveniently situated in Bobby's study, where Dean spent most of his time when there.

"Can't see him sharing a bed with Brian," she chuckled, her hand sliding into his as she fell into step with him, only half-a-step behind. Just far enough that she could curl her hand about his elbow, touching a laughing kiss to his shoulder. "You think he's gonna try and impose Victorian rules on us?"

Dean chuckled at her question, eyes smiling at the kiss she dropped against his shoulder. "Depends on how noisy we are," he replied, pulling open the door to the truck stop and waiting for her to step inside before he followed behind. "He's not as cranky as he seems to be. He's really a softie down deep inside."

"He makes me feel like I'm six years old," she admitted with a soft snort of laughter, slipping through the door ahead of him. As always, curious eyes turned their way - her way - but it was always obvious that she just wasn't on the table for anyone. She only had eyes for Dean.

He gave a light shrug of shoulders as he led her inside, choosing a booth near the windows with a clear view of the exits. "He means well. He just worries too much. His bark is worse than his bite, believe me." In all the years Dean had known him, Bobby was the one person who'd never laid a hand to him, no matter how stupid he was being. "He was really there for me when I was growing up. A lot more than he gives himself credit for." He slid into the booth, nodding a hello to the waitress who was looking him over as much as the truckers were looking Nim over.

"Yeah, well ..." Her lips parted in a mild grin as she slid into the booth opposite him, letting her hands clasp together loose on the table between them. "You're scared of Brian, I'm scared of Bobby. It evens out." She glanced up at the waitress enjoying the view, her grin deepening, proud that Dean elicited glances and lingering looks. Jealousy didn't really have a place with the sheer force of trust she had in him.

He hadn't really noticed the glances they were receiving from those in the diner, or maybe he was just good at pretending not to notice. Normally, he'd feel jealous if any man so much as glanced her way, but after everything they'd been through, he knew he had nothing to worry about. There was no need for jealousy. She belonged to him and vice versa, and that was all there was to it. "I'm not afraid of Brian!" he contradicted, even if he was lying a little. "I just don't know him very well yet."

"Uh-huh." She wasn't convinced, but it was funny how quick he was to deny how much Brian intimidated him. Tucking a hand against her neck beneath the fall of her hair, she looked up as the waitress finally made it to their table. At least this one was polite enough to share her welcome smile with Nim, even if it warmed up significantly when it turned onto Dean.

"What can I get you folks this morning?"

"Everything!" Dean replied, grinning up at the waitress as she arrived at their table, a little too enthusiastically, but he felt like he'd just survived the end of the world and he was famished, not to mention exhausted, probably running on adrenaline alone. "Coffee," he corrected himself, "And menus, please."

"Sure, handsome." The waitress flicked a glance to Nim. "How about you, honey?"

Chuckling at Dean's enthusiastic demand for food and soon, Nim grinned back at the other woman. "Coffee for me, too, thanks."

With a nod, the waitress stepped away for a moment, returning to set two menus onto the table between them before heading for the counter once again.

Nim turned her grin onto Dean. "Dude, turn on the charm and you're lookin' at a free breakfast."

"What charm?" he asked, arching his brows curiously. He was just being his usual charming starving self, or so he thought. "You mean the waitress?" he asked, glancing over at the counter the waitress had disappeared behind. He smiled back, leaning forward to rest his arms against the table. "Not my type."

She snickered, tracing unrecognizable patterns on the table between his hands with one fingertip. "Yeah, but you're her type," she teased. Not exactly encouraging him to be unfaithful, more encouraging him to make the most of his natural talents for material gain. "So whaddya think, is Bill already at Bobby's?" She drew her hand back as the waitress returned, pouring out a couple of cups of coffee and a dazzling smile for Dean before slipping away again.

"What type is that?" he asked, arching a brow at her across the table as he reached for his first cup of Joe. "Single" Male?" He took a small sip of his coffee to see if it had cooled enough for drinking, followed by a longer swallow, before setting the mug back on the table and wrapping both hands around it. "Probably. He got a head start, and it's not that far. Bobby is probably filling him in."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:38 EST
"Bad boy with the sexy charm thing going on," she clarified the type with a quiet smirk of her own, the expression quickly hidden behind her own coffee cup. "Single?" she queried, one brow rising as her eyes dared him to declare himself single. "Well, at least we won't have to worry too hard about explaining too much when we get there. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"So bad I'm good," he agreed with a smirk, one finger absently picking at a chip in the cup. "Not exactly the kind you take home to Mother." Not the settling down type either, he thought to himself, but things are changing. "Funny, of all the girls I've ever known, your Mom is the only one I ever met." And he'd known - in the Biblical sense - quite a few. "You don't think she's roaming around somewhere in this reality, do you?" He smiled a little ruefully at her question. "Okay, not single. Engaged?" he queried, unsure how exactly to define his marital status now that they'd decided to tie the knot. Though he didn't comment one way or another, he looked like he could do with a good night's sleep, maybe more than one.

"Not according to Apollo," Nim murmured quietly. "She was as unique to our reality as I was, or your Missouri." Her hands curled about her own cup as she leant her arms forward onto the table. She smiled across the table at him, glancing only briefly at the menu before lifting her eyes to his once again. "How about we leave it at taken?" she suggested warmly, unable to resist adding, "As often as possible."

"Yeah, but apparently, I wasn't," he mused, pouting a little as he thought that over, wondering why certain people existed in both realities while others didn't, and if there were even more planes of existence than just those two. He'd experienced a third back home, but was unsure if it was real or the creation of those who'd sent him there. It had sure as hell felt real. He blinked out of his thoughts at the flirtatious remark and smiled. "I won't argue with that."

"Well, you know, I did promise you a later," she grinned, brows waggling teasingly as the waitress returned to their table, book open and ready to take their order.

"So what?ll it be?" she asked, glancing between the couple, clearly envious of the obvious connection there.

Nim looked up, her intimate grin settling into something a little more suitable for a stranger. "Just a short stack, thanks."

Scribbling this down, the waitress turned her smile onto Dean. "And for you, handsome?"

"A short stack?" Dean echoed, with a scoffing chuckle. "I could eat five short stacks right about now." He smirked as he looked from Nim to the waitress, not really noticed the meager attempt at flirtation or maybe he was just so accustomed to it that he didn't pay it much heed. "I'll have the two by two by two." Which consisted of two pancakes, two sausages, and two eggs. "With a side of toast and home fries," he continued, completing his order, at least for now. He handed her his menu, which he hadn't even opened. "And extra syrup," he added, with a grin.

"Someone's got a healthy appetite," the waitress chuckled, taking the menus from them both to place their order with the kitchen.

Nim had dissolved into quiet chuckles of her own at the reference to syrup, rolling her eyes as she swallowed her laughter in a long slow gulp of coffee. "Didn't I feed you properly while you were gone?"

"Got an appetite for more than just food," Dean muttered to himself with a glance at the waitress' retreating rear, mostly out of habit before looking back at Nim, hiding a smirk behind the lifted coffee cup. "As a matter of fact, you didn't," he teased. "Sammy and I made pancakes." He smiled faintly at the memory of it.

"Oh, really?" Surprised by this - Nim was pretty good at keeping on top of meals, and with a child in the house, she would have thought she'd be better at it - she shrugged lightly, dismissing the thought with the mental image of Dean making pancakes with their son. "How much of a disaster zone was the kitchen when you were done?" she asked playfully.

His smile warmed to her, unable to keep her on pins and needles for too long. He reached across the table for her hand. "You were amazing, Nim. You're gonna be an awesome mom." He chuckled at her question. "It would have been fine, except Sam insisted on helping, and, well, he's three." Dean furrowed his brows thoughtfully, realizing he was talking about the future in present tense, as if it had just happened, which to him, it had. "Was three. Will be three," he mulled quietly.

Her hand curled into his, a delicate flush of pleasure stroking over her skin at his smiling insistence that she was capable of being the mother she hoped she could be. "I'll bet you two were adorable, all covered in flour and eggs," she teased, making an assumption that was only informed by the chuckle on his lips.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at the memory of it. "I'm not so sure you thought so, but it was fun." He sighed, a touch of melancholy at the memory of it, turning his gaze toward their loosely-clasped hands. He didn't want to grieve the loss of a son that hadn't been born yet, but look forward to knowing him again sometime in the future. "Do you really think we can do it, Nim?"

Slipping her other hand from the coffee cup, she covered his hand over hers tenderly. No, I'm not sure. But the me who wrote that journal was sure, and you need me to be sure, so ...."I do," she nodded, glancing down to their joined hands at the critical moment, hiding the suggestion of her uncertainty from him when it flared up. Her gaze left his for just a second, clear eyes rising to meet his once more with a warm smile. "Kinda looking forward to watching you making a mess of my kitchen in a coupla years."

He smiled again, not really noticing her uncertainty in the wake of his own. The journal was proof that they could make it happen, even in the direst of situations, if they only chose to believe it and make it a reality. "Kinda looking forward to it, myself," he admitted, with a smile bright enough to chase away the darkest clouds. Despite his gloominess just a short while before, despite his worries and his fears, he clung to this glimpse of the future, this tiny gift that had inadvertently given to him. This bit of hope amidst the darkness, refusing to let the darkness prevail.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:41 EST
"Of course, if our son's going to be a Winchester, that means you can't back out on marrying me," she pointed out with a playful chuckle, dark eyes twinkling with sweet amusement, daring to suggest by teasing implication that he might have a slight committment phobia. "And not while I'm in labor, either." She flickered a cheeky grin in his direction, gently untangling her fingers from his as their breakfast arrived, laughing at how tiny hers was compared with the mountain of food on his plate.

He smirked again, finding the thought of saying their vows while she was giving birth amusing. "What's the matter" Don't want to say 'I do' while you're bearing down and screaming in pain?" He pulled his hand back, only because their food had arrived, making his mouth water in hungry expectation. "Not gonna swear at me for making you that way, are you?" He'd heard tell of such incidents, mostly from TV talk shows that he'd deny ever watching. Oprah' Him' Never! He skewered a sausage onto his fork and bit into it, moaning as if it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. "Oh my god, that's good!"

Her own laden fork stopped halfway to her mouth as his moan made itself known, the sound rippling through her to touch on that deepest part that sent a shudder through her limbs. "Dude," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Again with the moaning." Taking the mouthful she'd prepared, she watched him start the divine experience that was eating a full meal, relieved that his appetite hadn't been hurt by his wanderings through time. "How do you know about childbirth, anyway?"

"Dude," he countered, waving a sausage-laden fork at her and grinning like a madman. "This stuff is awesome!" He finished off the bit of sausage that was left on his fork and started on his pancakes, sliding the slab of butter around the top of the pile to melt it a little before pouring on a generous amount of syrup. Thankfully, the pancakes were on a separate plate, or he'd had a completely syrup-soaked breakfast. "How do I know about what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

Her brows rose as she chewed, her eyes laughing at his pretended innocence of her question. "Seriously?" she asked after swallowing, her lips curved in another teasing smile as she reached over to snag one of his fries between a finger and thumb. "You want me to ask you in detail how you know about the miracle of childbirth?"

"What' I watch TV. I know about the birds and the bees." He wasn't going to admit how he'd gotten himself hooked on a few daytime soap operas from time to time to pass the time when he was bored, especially when he was laid up with one injury or another. He avoided her gaze so she wouldn't see the look of embarrassed guilt on his face, choosing to focus his attention on his breakfast, making pretty quick work of the pancakes. He only glanced up at her when she snagged one of his potatoes.

She blew him an impish kiss, making an educated guess as to the real answer as she munched on her stolen prize. It wasn't as though she'd never had to spend a few days bedbound and stuck to a TV as her only form of entertainment. "You don't need a TV to know about the birds and the bees," she pointed out cheerfully. "Although I guess you are pretty good at the first bit. Of course I'm biased." Under the table, she reached out with a foot, running the smooth curve of her boot's toe up along the back of his calf teasingly.

He stiffened, almost choking on a mouthful of pancake when he felt her boot teasing the back of his calf. Coughing once, he swallowed that bit of pancake down, furrowing his brows at her in feigned annoyance. "Would you rather I believed in the stork?" He leaned close, lowering his voice for her ears alone. "By the way, I haven't been using any protection. How do you know you aren't already....you know." He'd already taken the time to figure it out, and if things went according to the way they had happened in the future, she wouldn't get pregnant for at least a few months yet. Another thought struck him, as he pondered that. "Do you think it's cheating?"

A faint touch of guilt found her expression for a moment, hoping he wouldn't take instance offence at what she was about to say. "Well, I have been using protection," she said quietly, her voice lowered for his ears only just as he had done for her. "I'm not pregnant. But does it really matter if it's cheating" We both want a family. A few little changes here and there won't change that."

From the expression on his face, it was obvious he was surprised by that piece of information, along with a mixture of relief and disappointment. "Oh," he replied, at a loss for words. Okay, well, he wanted to do things right anyway, so no kids until they were married. But when were they getting married" His thoughts drifted back to the journal, and he wondered if he should consult it to find out when they'd done it before....or more accurately, how they might do it in the future, but again it felt like cheating. He'd come back to change things, not keep them exactly the same, and he wondered what effect even such minor changes would make on the future. "Nim..." he started, skewering a bit of potato onto his fork before looking her way again. "I don't want to make the same mistakes that Future Me made."

She winced again at the surprise on his face, wondering why he hadn't assumed she was taking precautions. Did she really come across as being that innocent' Taking a sip from her coffee cup, she lowered it down once again, meeting his gaze with gentle understanding. "Wasn't that the reason you brought the journal back with you?" she asked softly. "Forewarned, and all that." Her hand reached across to link with his, squeezing affectionately. "You're not going to make those mistakes."

"Yeah, it was," he drew some reassurance from her show of affection. "It seemed like the smartest thing to do, but it sort of feels like cheating. I mean, is everything written there a self-fulling prophecy?" He lowered his fork a moment as another thought crossed his mind. "Take this for example. When I first got there, I asked you - Future You - to write down everything you remembered, but by the time I left, you were remembering other things. It was like one past was rewriting over the other one."

Nim frowned, confused by the new information. "Wait, her memories were changing already?" she asked in surprise. "So that means that this will work, doesn't it' That changing the future is possible, nothing is set in stone. That's good, right?"

He shook his head, not in disagreement, but in confusion. "Yeah, but you're not getting it. You..." He frowned a moment, as he tried to choose the right pronoun again, having trouble separating them. "She didn't remember me disappearing. I never disappeared there. We were attacked at Bill's instead. Why is it different' Was it supposed to happen that way, and we're changing things, or is it the other way around?" Chicken or egg, Dean. Does it even really matter?

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-07-29 14:46 EST
Pushing her empty plate aside, Nim leaned forward onto her forearms, holding his gaze for a long moment as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. And then she realized ....it didn't matter whether she could follow it or not. Thinking in circles like this was going to drive him insane. "Dean, does it matter?" she asked very gently. "It's working, that's all we need to know. You really want to try and understand time travel on top of everything else? Because I'm not good at stuffing mushed up brain back into your skull when you liquify your mind trying to make sense of all this."

Dean frowned a little at her reply, but after a moment's consideration, nodded in quiet agreement, knowing that line of thinking would only drive him crazy in the end. "At least, we know what we shouldn't do," he admitted. There was at least some comfort in that, which was the entire reason he'd brought the journal back with him.

"Well, I think you're right, for a start," she told him, firm and quiet. "Making sure our friends know just how high the stakes are and what they can do to stop the worst from happening. Because we - you don't need to do everything yourself. We're in this together, baby, and that means those grumpy old men are in it, too." She flickered a soft smile in his direction, taking up her coffee cup once again to imbibe, dark eyes watchful over the rim as her foot reached out again, repeating the gentle caress against the back of his calf once more.

He chuckled at her remark about grumpy old men, finding it amusing, the caress of her foot against his calf calming him a little, letting him know without saying so that they were in this together. "Bobby's bark is worse than his bite," Dean remarked, not for the first time, reminding of a time when he was one of the grumpy old men, but that was a story for another. He started on his eggs, dipping his toast in his yolk before taking a bite.

"He's barked a hell of a lot in my direction during the last twenty-four hours," she shrugged ruefully. "All I did was call Brian - he sicced Singer on me." She snorted with laughter; she wasn't complaining exactly, but it would have gone down better if she had been the one to invite the wrath of Bobby on her own head, rather than have it directed toward her by her closest friend. She eyed Dean thoughtfully. "You do know that if we didn't have this end of the world thing looming over us, I'd be making plans to lock you in a nice room for at least a week, right?"

"He was probably worried," Dean replied, frowning a little at what he'd put them all through, though it had been no fault of his own. "He grows on you." He soaked up some egg yolk onto his slice of toast, smirking at her question and what it implied. "What's stopping you?" he teased. "There's a guest room at Bobby's. We can lock ourselves up there. Have a John and Yoko moment."

Nim laughed, brushing her hand back through her hair, grimacing as her fingers snagged on what felt like dried blood. Either hers or the Alpha's, but either way, she needed a shower. "You think he wouldn't bust in on us if we make him wait too long for that explanation?" Rather than fight the knotted tangle, she slipped her hand free, twisting that hank of hair back to hide the dark stain in the honeyed strands.

He smiled as he imagined the look on Bobby's face if he did manage to walk in on them at an awkward moment. "I think he'd have a heart attack," he replied, eyes glinting with amusement, thankfully not noticing the blood in her hair. They both needed a shower and a good night's sleep - maybe several - but all in good time. Dean's stomach came first. "I wonder what he's gonna say when I tell him we had a..." He frowned, stumbling on the tense again. They hadn't had a son yet, though it sort of felt that way to him.

"Who would he shoot first?" Nim wondered impishly. Her foot was still gently rubbing against his leg under the table as she sipped her coffee. She hadn't eaten much, admittedly, but her plate was empty and she didn't feel hungry any longer. Besides, Dean always seemed to consume his own body-weight if given the opportunity. Her head tilted curiously as she caught up with his aborted comment. "You know what I'm wondering" What did our Sammy call Bobby and Brian' Were they uncles, or were they Grampa?"

"I don't know," Dean replied, in quiet contemplation. The more disturbing thought was whether they were alive long enough to have known their son. "They helped build our house," he told her, finishing up the toast and picking at what was left of his potatoes, his mood dipping slightly as he once again thought about the dark future that loomed ahead of them if they didn't stop it. "I'm sure it's all in the journal."

"I'm sure it is," she nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowing a little as his mood dropped once again. It seemed impossible to keep him on an even keel at the moment, but she wasn't too worried about that. He'd been through a lot - it had only been two months since he'd been ripped from his accustomed reality and dropped here, and on top of all the differences he was clearly still struggling with, he'd just had an encounter with the future. A future where he was already dead, and his son was growing up in a world where the sun didn't shine. Anyone would be volatile. "How far are we from Bobby's?"

She pulled him back from his thoughts with her question, and his mood lightened again, as changeable as the weather, but at least, he was smiling again. "Not far. Half an hour maybe, give or take." He finished off his potatoes, leaning back and sighing in contentment, at least as far as his stomach was concerned. "I'm surprised he hasn't called yet. He's probably worrying himself sick." He frowned a moment as a thought occured to him. "Maybe I should check in." Or maybe we should just get going, he thought to himself. Time to face the music.

"Baby, he called us just under an hour ago," she reminded him gently, tugging her wallet from her pocket. There was an odd kind of reluctance in her - she knew they had to get to Bobby's, they had to pass on the information they had and make sure their allies all knew each other. But at the same time, some part of her wanted to put it off for as long as possible, wanting to keep Dean to herself a while longer. "But we should get there sooner rather than later. Once we're there, they can bitch as much as they like about waiting but they won't be on us for not being in sight."

Oddly, he felt that same reluctance, but for different reasons. Bobby's had always been a safe refuge, at least, until the Leviathan reared their ugly heads, but that was a different time and a different place. He wasn't sure that mattered much here. The truth was, despite his occasional moodiness, he was enjoying having Nim all to himself, and he wasn't looking forward to having to explain everything all over again and face the inevitable scrutiny of his plan. Still, he couldn't avoid it forever and he knew they couldn't do this alone. "We're going to have to summon Apollo." Not to mention Crowley, he thought with distaste.

"Let's hope Brian brings the guitar, then," was Nim's mild comment. A flicker of her fingers dropped a couple of bills onto the table as she moved to stand, closing up her wallet to tuck it away again. Her hand reached toward him, not minding that her wry reluctance to move on was showing. "C'mon. We gotta get moving."

He watched as she pulled out her wallet, making no argument about who was going to pay. What money he had left in his wallet belonged to Brian, so it was all the same to him. It irked him that he had no cash of his own, but he'd never had a problem scraping up a few dollars, if he needed to, in a pinch. He gulped a last swallow of coffee and took her hand, moving to his feet.

Half an hour more, and they'd be at Bobby's place, where hopefully Bill had already arrived. Another day, and Brian would be there, too; Apollo had said he would find them there, but with hands on a musical instrument, they would be able to summon him. Their complete circle gathered together to make sense of some very interesting information gleaned over the course of Dean's little sojourn into what might be.

((If you read all that and managed to follow the story too, you deserve a medal! ::laughs:: Days of RP, highly enjoyable as always. Thanks, princess!))