Disclaimer: I own nothing! Not a damn thing.

This is purely an exercise in fluff - nothing more, nothing less.

In God We Trust

The bar was just another roadside dive, somewhere off the beaten trail on the road to Nowheresville, USA.

The patrons were a familiar mix of locals and those just passing through town, and the sawdust on the floor, ripped vinyl seats and low level hum of mindless chatter were exactly the same as every other bar Sam Winchester had had the pleasure in visiting.

Yet one thing seemed strangely out of sync with their surroundings, and this fact in itself was enough to have Sam's proverbial heckles raised in concern.

His brother.

For the last hour and twenty seven minutes, Dean had been nursing the same bottle of beer, absently picking at the damp, soggy label as his burger and fries had grown cold, remaining uneaten at his side.

Combined with the fact that Dean had very nearly wrapped the Impala around a tree that very morning, Sam was more than a little worried about him. Though he had dismissed the incident with excuses of girls in short skirts, Sam knew that whilst Dean liked to eye the local talent whenever they passed through a new town, which frequently caused his brother to lose all sense of moral judgement, it very rarely resulted in a road traffic accident.

Sam eyed his brother warily and balled up his napkin, tossing it into the red plastic basket that now held the remnants of his own lunch.

"Dean?" he began, bending his head to catch his sibling's vacant gaze as he appeared not to have heard. "Dean?" His eyes widened as Dean's head suddenly snapped up to attention and Sam peered down at him in evident bemusement.

"Are you sure you're okay, dude?" he pressed, soothed a little as Dean lifted the bottle to his lips and almost downed the entire beverage in two gulps.

Dean wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and bobbed his head slowly, "Yeah, yeah. I... I guess I'm just tired. I didn't sleep so well last night."

Sam smiled tightly, wondering just which of their many brushes with death and the forces of evil had kept his brother awake the previous night. It was a long and terrifying list to be sure, but he assumed Dean's stint in Hell ranked high on the 'likely to give you nightmares' scale. And knowing Dean, he wouldn't appreciate Sam pressing the issue any further.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked, slightly relieved when Dean shook his head in a firm 'no', and busied himself with poking half-heartedly at his fries.

Sam cleared his throat, retrieving his wallet from his inside pocket as he flicked through a small wad of dollar bills and tossed the money onto the table top.

"You want me to drive? Maybe you can catch a few Z's on the way?" Sam offered, suddenly frowning as he noticed Dean's gaze was being very firmly pulled across the bar in the direction of one of the waitresses. Again, not unusual, but the shock and confusion etched on the older Winchester's face made Sam hastily turn his head in the same direction.

Dean swallowed hard, the bottle still gripped tightly in his hand as he watched the woman with an expression that bordered somewhere between panic and utter amazement.

Whilst Sam stared in confusion at the brunette who was busily clearing tables a few feet from their booth, his brother was seeing an entirely different, yet heartbreakingly familiar vision.

Blonde waves cascaded down the young woman's back, bobbing against her slim shoulders as she retrieved the towel from her back pocket and wiped down the table top in front of her. She hoisted the tray of glasses in one hand, expertly weaving through the crowd of customers as she headed back to the bar. Pausing suddenly, she turned and regarded Dean with a similarly attentive stare, her brown eyes quickly creasing as a beaming smile broke out across her face. Dean was sure he felt his heart stop dead in his chest.

Jo.

Closing his eyes, Dean opened them again slowly, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he felt bile begin to rise up from his stomach. His eyes frantically searched her out again, but she was gone.

"Did you see her?" he rasped, his panic stricken face now turned to his brother, who shook his head in confusion.

"Who?"

"You didn't see her?" Dean demanded, again standing from the booth as he stared frantically around the crowd, desperate to see her face.

"The waitress?" Sam guessed, now entirely unnerved by his brother's behaviour. Something was very clearly wrong, and the list of possibilities was endless. Demons, tricksters, angels, ghosts, all of them left a distinctly bad taste in Sam's mouth, but he assumed it was something supernatural that had his usually unflappable brother in a state of paranoia.

Sitting down heavily, Dean held his head in his hands, rubbing his thumbs clumsily over his eyelids as he felt the familiar burn of tiredness and tears begin to sting his skin. It couldn't have been her. Jo Harvelle was dead. He knew that better than anybody. The moments leading up to her passing were ingrained in his memory, playing over and over again any time he let his mind grow idle. The smell of her blood, the sound of her rasping breath as he held her cold, clammy cheek against his own; the sadness and regret that had consumed their first and last kiss - Dean remembered it all, in vivid, horrifying, technicolour. Then of course Osiris had re-opened an already festering wound, summoning Jo's spirit to torment him, reminding him that in his life already filled with pain and longing, she had been his one greatest regret.

Perhaps it was the fact they were in Missouri again, less than an hour away from Carthage. Seeing the state sign when they had arrived for their hunt a couple of days before had been enough to remind Dean of her blood streaked face, and the image had refused to leave him, even when he had reached the bottom of a liquor bottle.

She was still there at the back of his mind, and she was still lost to him.

So it couldn't have been Jo. Dean knew that. Just like he knew it couldn't have been her he saw this morning, standing on the sidewalk in a pretty pale pink dress, smiling at him as if she had forgiven him every offence against her.

Which left only one possibility as far as Dean was concerned.

"Sammy, I think I'm losing my mind," he confessed, staring down at the water stains and pen marks in the table surface, as he tried to find the courage to say her name aloud. "I keep seeing her."

"Who?" Sam's tone was kind yet urgent, and he sat forward in his seat as he kept his brother's counsel.

"Jo," Dean said softly.

A rowdy group of customer chose that moment to all suddenly break out into a peel of raucous laughter, and Sam frowned in annoyance as he tried to summon his thoughts through the cackles and yelling that soon followed.

Sam froze, his mind reeling, "Harvelle?"

Dean simply nodded his head, looking up as he tried to take a slow, cleansing breath and his heart hammered to a more steady rhythm.

"Just now, and... This morning. It was her Sammy, I swear it was. I saw her as clear as I see you right now."

Instantly knowing the futility of their conversation, and leaving his brother similarly scrambling to gaze around the room full of customers, Dean stood up and gestured to the restrooms at the back of the bar.

He pushed through the ever increasing crowd and sighed in annoyance as inebriated revellers stumbled across his path. A college football game was being screened on the small TV above the bar, and every few seconds another couple of fans seemed to join the noisy hoards already assembled there.

"Awesome."

Finding an 'Out of Order' sign tacked haphazardly to the men's room, Dean ran his hands through his hair and turned to once again navigate his way back to the table. At this point, all he wanted to do was get the hell out of this bar, so he and Sam could figure out the reason for his newly found insanity. But that was proving easier said than done.

A large, burly guy stumbled from atop the bar stool as he passed, causing Dean to stumble into the side of a pretty red-head who was congregated beside him. He muttered a brief apology and turned sideways to better manoeuvre through the group, when the woman turned and addressed him suddenly.

"Watch it, Dean-o!" she held his gaze for only a moment, before she turned back to her friends and became once more immersed in their somewhat drunken football debate.

Dean's blood ran cold.

"What did you say?" his brows knit into a frown, but she simply shrugged and took a slow, noisy drink from her glass, giggling as bubbles formed at the base of the straw, and the noise increased.

"I don't know," she shrugged, chewing on the straw as she regarded him with annoyance, "watch it?"

Dean shook his head, "No, no. That's not what you said..." he tried desperately, about to question her further until the boy standing beside her decided to intervene, and placed a heavy palm on Dean's arm.

"Hey Ashley, is this douche bothering you?" he slurred, looking somewhat affronted as Dean simply scoffed at his attempt at heroics, slapped away his hand, and pushed forcefully through the group back towards Sam.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Dean directed, picking up his jacket and hastily pulling it on without giving Sam time to argue.

"Is everything okay?" Sam stood up, catching the car keys as Dean tossed them toward him and began to stalk silently toward the door.

Hurrying after Dean, Sam weaved in and out of the crowd, faltering on a couple of occasions as people stumbled in his way.

"Hey, Dean! Will you wait up?!" he called, trying to politely untangle the limbs of a dark haired college student from around his neck, as she gazed up at him lustfully and pressed her finger hard into the dimple in his chin. The lollipop she held in her hand brushed against Sam's cheek, and he grimaced as the sticky, salivary candy brushed his skin.

"You're like... so cute," she drawled, giggling as a hiccup caught her off-guard and she held onto him tighter. Suddenly looking markedly more sober, she cocked her head, "Wow. Your hair is like so soft and shiny. What conditioner do you use?" she enthused, about to add a sticky hand to his hair when Sam happily managed to unwind her arms from around his torso and pass her off to her equally drunk friend.

"You uh... You have a nice night," he smiled politely, breathing a sigh of relief as he made his escape and nodded at Dean who was glaring testily at him from the doorway.

"Sorry," Sam said wearily, rubbing at the spot on his cheek and only succeeding in making his fingers similarly sticky. He grimaced and rubbed his hand on the leg of his jeans, barely even noticing as the jukebox beside the door whirred to life.

It was difficult to hear the strains of the song now playing over the loud, alcohol fuelled conversations in the bar, but as Dean's complexion paled significantly, Sam pricked his ears up and he too suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Dean's knuckles whitened as he gripped the door jamb, his mind quickly conjuring up a conversation that seemed to have taken place a lifetime ago.

"REO?"

"Damn right, REO. Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart."

Dean's expression flitted rapidly between grief-stricken, and the kind of all-encompassing rage Sam had seen all too often on his older brother's features, and he stormed out of the door, almost tearing it from its hinges in the process.

Sam was at his side seconds later, as Dean stood in the parking lot of the bar, fists clenched at his sides. He stared up at the heavens, directing his furious gaze to every inch of the parking lot, from the dirt ground to the expanse of wilderness beyond the horizon.

"Something's screwing with me, Sammy," Dean began, eyes blazing with anger.

Raising his voice, he yelled to the night sky, "What do you want? You want to take a shot at me? Fine. But you leave her out of this! Come on, show yourself!" moments passed, and his chest rose and fell rapidly with each laboured breath, "Come on!"

Smiling weakly at the crowd that had gathered outside the bar, Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Uh... Dean, maybe this isn't the time or place, let's..."

"Story of your life, hey Dean?"

Sam blinked as he heard a female voice behind him, and he turned to find his drunken, lollipop sucking friend sitting on the hood of a nearby car. Flicking her dark hair behind her ear, she rolled the candy around her mouth, releasing it from between her lips with a pronounced pop and a satisfied sigh.

"How did you..." Sam began, taking a tentative step back as his hand discretely sought out the vial of holy water from his pocket.

Inclining her head to focus on Dean, the girl pressed her palms to the car hood and leant back seductively, her legs crossed at the ankles as she looked him up and down.

"Wrong place, wrong time?" she crooned, although the voice that left her lips sounded eerily familiar, and caught the ear of both brothers almost immediately. It was a voice they hadn't heard in years, not since a hardware store in Missouri.

She smiled as her words had the desired effect, and Dean simply shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip as he stared up at the night sky and felt his whole body instantly weighed down by grief.

Sam, however, quickly regained his senses, and flicked his hand hurriedly at the girl, a cascade of water splashed into her face.

She recoiled instantly, tossing her lollipop onto the ground as she batted at the water assaulting her cheeks and shot Sam a thoroughly irritated glare.

Much to Sam's surprise and abject relief, her skin didn't burn, and she seemed to all intents and purposes unharmed - although her expression was anything but pleased.

"Hey!" she snapped, looking at him incredulously, "this mascara's not water proof! Geez, what's wrong with you people?!"

She rolled her blue eyes at the sound of a gun's safety catch being released, and folded her arms across her ample chest as Dean directed the gun squarely at her head.

"Start talkin', sweetheart. What the hell are you?" His expression was murderous, which is why her sudden cackle of laughter took both Winchesters' by surprise.

"Don't make me ask again," Dean growled, his finger curling dangerously around the trigger.

The girl huffed dramatically, "Fine, okay. You guys have no sense of humour, you know that?" she sighed, suddenly running her hands through her hair as she shook her head vigorously.

Slowly, her features began to melt away, and by the time she stood up from the car hood, it was an entirely different face that greeted the brothers.

"Gabriel?" Sam began, watching as the angel stared down at his now masculine form, and brushed his hand across the fabric of his brown jacket.

"Miss me?" Gabriel grinned, gesturing toward Dean, who still seemed intent on blowing a sizeable hole in the creature's head.

"Apparently not," he said wryly, reaching out slowly, and gently pushing the nozzle of the gun toward the ground.

"Boys," Gabriel beamed, glancing between the pair as he folded his arms across his chest, "it's been a while, huh?"

"Not long enough," Sam countered, rolling his eyes as Gabriel clutched at his heart in mock anguish.

Suddenly pausing, the angel frowned, "You know, that was a whole lot more fun when I had breasts. Pretty sure they were only a B cup, but... Anything more than a handful's a waste, right?!"

"Geez, tough room." His demeanour suddenly changed, as he sensed his ill-advised attempts at humour would not endear himself to the infamous hunters. "Alright, let's cut to the chase, shall we?! I bring you news..." he smiled as he clicked his fingers and a beautiful, ethereal light shone from the halo that appeared over his head.

"You wanna stop with the theatrics and tell us why you've been dicking me around all day?" Dean's tone grew less angry as he added quietly, "Why her? Why Jo?"

Gabriel clicked his fingers and the halo disappeared, but his unflinching gaze remained trained on Dean, as if he were almost looking through him. Dean shifted uncomfortably, but his green eyes refused to venture from the angel's face.

"Well, I'm real sorry about that, Dean," he acknowledged, with perhaps a little more honesty than intended, "but, as I'm sure you boys know, I've been out of the ole' angel loop for a little while, and... I just wanted to check in on my favourite plaid wearing hunter. Push a few buttons, take a poke around under that rickety old Winchester hood..."

"We haven't got all night, so if you've got something to say, say it!" Sam demanded, growing increasingly tired of the angel's teasing.

Gabriel blanched, "And you used to be the nice, floppy-haired, polite one..." jerking his thumb toward Dean, he added, "you see what nine years in a car with Grumpy Cat here has done to you?! Dial it down a notch, Samuel."

Holding his hand up to silence Dean with what he assumed was another hollow threat, he began earnestly, "As I was saying... I have news for you two knuckleheads, although, I figure this is gonna be of more interest to knucklehead number one..." he turned his head toward Dean.

"Jo Harvelle, she's alive. Again."

He sat back against the car hood once more and stared intently at Dean as he awaited a response with a beaming grin blossoming on his features.

"What?" Sam's eyes widened, as Dean simply stared down at the ground, his heart and brain struggling for dominance in trying to find the truth in the angel's words.

"Hey, Rachel Green, is that hair effecting your hearing?" Gabriel shook his head, "I said, Jo. Harvelle. Is. Alive... Again." he thought the sentence over in his head as the words left his lips, and nodded in satisfaction.

"How?" Dean demanded, finally managing to find a voice for at least one of the hundred or so questions now consuming his mind.

The sudden flutter of a trenchcoat preceded Castiel's appearance, and he stood next to the errant arc-angel with a decidedly disapproving expression.

"Gabriel... I thought we discussed this?!" Castiel grumbled, catching Dean's eye only momentarily before guilt stole his gaze away from his charge.

Dean's breath seemed to stick in his throat, and he felt a small smile twitch at his lips despite the anger he felt directed at the angels. Castiel's appearance could only mean that it was true; Jo was alive, and that was suddenly all Dean found himself caring about.

"Cas? You knew? You knew about this?" he demanded.

Castiel nodded, "Yes."

"And you didn't think to tell us?" Sam's eyes darted between the angels, although he assumed neither was capable of feeling anything close to remorse.

"It is... Complicated," Cas replied, earning a loud sigh from Gabriel who batted his hand dismissively at the trench-coat wearing angel beside him.

"Oh please," he sighed, shrugging as he gestured to the brothers, "all they need to know is that Daddy's home, he's real pissed, and he's sorting out the mess you made of the Big House."

Dean shook his head, not understanding how this related to the news Gabriel had imparted, "What about Jo? What's she got to do with this?"

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by his colleague.

"It seems there was an... administrative error between the fates and the angel of Death. God had other plans for Jo that were somehow... mislaid," Castiel supplied.

"Administrative error?" Dean barked, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, "this isn't the freakin' IRS, Cas! You... You..." he stopped, blinking to dispel the images of Carthage from his head.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded, suddenly enough in charge of his senses to realise the larger picture in this surreal conversation, "I want to see her, Cas. Now!"

Castiel simply nodded, "I was going to tell you, Dean, I assure you. When the...error... was discovered, Joanna was asked if she wished to remain in heaven, or return to the Earth to live out the life that had been planned for her... With you."

Gabriel sucked in a slow breath, "So, I guess you're gonna have to strap on your big boy pants and talk about those big, bad scary feelings now, huh?! You know, bring that ship into the shore... Throw away the oars forever..." he waved his hand off into the horizon as he chuckled merrily to himself.

Dean sighed, shaking his head as he found his annoyance at the being's antics slowly ebbing away and being replaced by something he vaguely remembered as happiness.

But his pessimistic nature wouldn't be so easily silenced, and he dreaded hearing the catch he felt almost certainly existed.

Gabriel drew his lips into a determined line and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Immediately the pair vanished from sight, leaving Castiel and Sam in a less than companionable silence.

Sam dragged the toe of his boot through the dirt and dug his hands in his pockets, unsure of exactly what he should be doing given the circumstances.

Suddenly pressing his hand to Sam's shoulder, the angel smiled good-naturedly, "It will all work out, Sam."

"Yeah? Well it better had, Cas," Sam's features darkened as he thought over the years of grief and guilt that his brother had been subjected to. Taking the car keys from his pocket, Sam gestured toward the Impala, "I guess I'll see you there."

x-x-x

Dean Winchester had always hated hospitals. In his experience, they had always been places of despair and ultimately death, yet as he stood idly in the hallway of the Carthage hospital, he knew that almost nothing could wipe the smile from his face.

Gabriel had taken them to an alleyway beside the hospital, thinking it pertinent that people not be privy to their sudden arrival. As they'd made their way to the correct floor, he'd explained that Jo had been found in Carthage two days before, in perfect health.

Unbeknown to Dean, the second Castiel learnt she had been sent back to the Earth, he had visited her and assured her that all was as it should be. He'd allayed her fears and talked to her almost fondly, recalling that last time she had been on Earth, she had been his friend; although her tears at leaving her mother behind had been far more hesitantly dealt with. Castiel wasn't sure that angels 'hugged', but the tear stains on his coat were proof enough that occasionally, they did.

So now Dean stood outside of Jo's room, the room where he somehow knew his future awaited him. For once the idea of having someone to love, of something lasting, didn't provoke its usual terror, but something unspoken still kept him rooted to the spot. It felt a lot like fear.

"She's been waiting for you," Castiel said quietly, glancing up to look at Dean's face as the young man peered through the doorway and let his eyes take in the unlikely, yet wondrous sight before him.

Jo sat upright in the hospital bed, peering silently out of the window as she faced away from the door. The ties of her hospital gown gaped across her small frame, and she appeared to be lost in thought.

"She's okay, right?" Dean checked, licking his lips nervously as his mouth had become unbearably dry.

Castiel bobbed his head, "She is exactly as she was."

"Sans the Hellhound teeth marks, obviously. So she can still totally rock a bikini." Gabriel added, deflecting the glare Castiel shot him with aplomb.

Dean searched in earnest for another reason not to enter the room, feeling the weight of three years of guilt and sorrow beginning to dampen his earlier euphoria. "Cas, does she remember?"

"We thought it best that you both remember," Castiel replied cryptically, leading Dean to assume that there had been other avenues explored for bringing about this reunion.

"I don't know Cas, maybe we should just give her time to..." Dean began, his words dying on his lips as Jo's head suddenly turned and her eyes met his for the first time.

Castiel glanced between the couple, willing Dean to take those first difficult steps toward her, and pass the test that he was unwittingly being subjected to. Though Dean would never know, Jo Harvelle had been meant for him from their very first meeting. Indeed even that had been orchestrated by the heavens. And though God's word on the subject was final, there had been uproar from certain celestial beings, who felt that changing Jo's fate now would set an unwelcome precedent.

So the angels had been sent to bring about their reunion and test their Father's initial match, although perhaps not in the manner in which Gabriel had initiated; though Castiel had to grudgingly admit that it had indeed been effective.

Before Castiel could utter the encouragement he had managed to quickly formulate, Dean had already walked through the doorway of the room and was standing at the side of Jo's bed looking uncharacteristically lost for words.

"Dean," she breathed through a beatific smile, but then quickly dissolved into tears, sobbing into her hands until he sat down carefully beside her and swept her into his arms.

"It's you. It's really you," he clung to her tightly, his hand resting at the back of her head as he embraced her, peppering her temple and cheeks with hurried kisses. Jo's fingers clutched at his shirt, her other hand fluttering to the back of his neck as she held on to him just as tightly and pressed her forehead to his.

Dean closed his eyes, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone and smiling at the feel of her skin against his. Their pose mirrored a goodbye in Carthage, yet this time, when his lips found hers, they were warm and soft, and curved into a smile that soon yielded to more demanding kisses.

Suddenly remembering that he'd forgone any formalities, and that very few words had been uttered between them, Dean paused, snatching another more chaste kiss as he spoke against her cheek, "Is this okay?"

Jo grinned, drawing back to hold his gaze. Her palm cupped his jaw and he leant into her touch, feeling his own tears catch on his lashes at the remembrance her gesture conjured. Osiris, and yet another goodbye, another chance he'd had to reflect on all that could have been.

Jo leant forward as she pulled him closer, initiating another kiss that silenced any concerns he might have had, and brought his focus well and truly back to the present.

"That answer your question, Winchester?" she arched a blonde eyebrow, laughing as he hugged her tightly and then sat back to simply stare at her, her hand firmly enclosed between his.

"God, I missed you, Jo," he shook his head sadly, staring at her face and finding that his memory hadn't come close to capturing her beauty.

"I know," she nodded shyly, placing her hand over his and busying herself with tracing her fingertips over the back of his hand as she clearly became uncomfortable with this new line of conversation.

"I heard you," she added softly, wincing as Dean was silent for a few moments.

Dean cleared his throat, feeling a blush rise up his cheeks, and he glanced out toward the hall to see the two angels assembled outside, side by side.

"Everything?" Dean checked, exhaling slowly as Jo bobbed her head in confirmation.

Jo braced herself, expecting him to pull away or babble his way through an excuse that dismissed the hundreds of times she had sat unseen at his side, listening to his heartfelt apologies, and long-held regrets. She'd cried alongside him when, at his lowest ebb, he'd spoken her name aloud and told her that if there was anybody he could have loved in this life, it was her.

She'd kissed his cheek as he slept, and touched his fevered brow when nightmares had claimed him, despite knowing that he felt neither her touch, nor the comfort she desperately wanted to bring him.

Jo was shaken from her melancholy thoughts as he squeezed her hand tightly, and when she finally looked up from her reverie, he was staring at her so intently that she felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"I meant every word, Jo," he finally stated, smiling self-consciously as she looked up at him from behind impossibly long lashes and looped her arms around his neck.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Harvelle," he pressed a kiss against her neck, ignoring the pointed throat clearing and coughing that was coming from the two angelic voyeurs loitering outside the room. He raised his voice pointedly as he added, "Although I could do without the peanut gallery back there!"

Jo laughed, and the sound made his heart leap in his chest. This was it. The chance to have everything he ever wanted, and everything he thought had been taken away.

"I can't promise that this is all gonna be smooth sailing," he began, realising that life with a Winchester was probably going to be anything but easy, no matter how hard he might try to make it otherwise, "but I'll do whatever I can to make you happy, Jo. I promise. And that's not some bullshit 'I'll call you' promise, I... I mean it."

"You're a lot more charming when you're drunk, you know that?" she teased, thinking back on his more eloquent declarations of love that had been prompted by a bottle of Jack Daniels and the dream of what might have been.

"You're not the first woman to say that," he grinned, relishing the banter that had always existed between them almost as much as the feel of her hand against his cheek.

"I'll bet," she retorted, feeling her stomach dip as he pressed his lips to first her palm, and then her wrist, before resting his forehead against her temple.

Jo stole a glance toward the doorway, and her eyes met those of the angels. A smile of understanding passed between them, unseen by Dean.

"I think we'll be okay," she whispered into his ear, grinning as Gabriel winked at her and then vanished at the click of his fingers.

Castiel bestowed a final gaze upon them, before he too disappeared, leaving the couple sitting in silence.

Dean lifted her chin gently with his fingers, his eyes eagerly sweeping her face, "Well, now Cagney and Lacey have gone..." he waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed as he moved in closer to claim her lips with his, in a kiss that left every nerve ending in her body alive in longing.

Giving a silent prayer of thanks, Jo happily lost herself in his arms, confident that not a single thing in the heavens compared to this.

x-x-x

Sam nursed the small polystyrene cup in his hands, trying to diplomatically peer down into the murky depths of his coffee instead of interrupting the staring match currently going on between his brother and Jo.

Dean sat at his side, his leg moving up and down in a display of nervous energy, as Jo sat on the edge of the bed, now clothed in Walmart's finest offerings as she signed her release papers and chatted with the nurse.

Content that her patient was fit and well enough to be released, the nurse left the room, and Jo was immediately on her feet and obviously eager to escape the hospital.

"Okay, so... Where are we heading, boys?" she asked, seeming slightly surprised as Dean was instantly at her side, his hand reached out in offering to her.

She threaded her fingers with his, and walked at his side as they exited the room. Sam trailed behind at a respectful distance as the couple ambled along, occasionally pausing to exchange kisses. Not content to simply hold her hand, Dean's arm slid around her waist and pulled her against his side, Jo's head falling against his shoulder.

"Ladies choice," Dean replied with a grin, "we got a possessed librarian in Oregon, or some kind of demonic clown doll in Kentucky."

Jo narrowed her eyes, appearing to mull the decision over.

"I vote for the librarian!" Sam called out, shuddering as he considered the latter.

Jo laughed, chatting quietly to Sam as he fell into step beside her, and Dean watched them with a contented sigh, as the time the friends had been parted simply melted away.

Dean curled his hand a little tighter around Jo's hip, and she turned momentarily from Sam to reward him with an adoring smile that he instantly mirrored.

He winked at her playfully, and Jo rolled her eyes with the ghost of a mischievous smile playing on her lips and mirth in her brown eyes. Whatever happened from here on out, it was going to be one hell of a ride, and Dean found himself uncharacteristically hopeful for what the future would bring.

As they walked through the doors of the hospital and out into the crisp chill of the early evening, Dean glanced up at the heavens and found himself momentarily captivated by the stars.

Inhaling slowly, he closed his eyes and murmured a quiet 'thank you'; for the woman beside him, and for the gift of a second chance.

From the entrance of the hospital, a short, bespectacled man stood, arms folded, watching the hunters with a curious smile on his face. Chucking softly to himself, he found his thoughts drifting to the stories he had yet to write, and the new possibilities the day had brought. As the trio finally disappeared from view, the man began to descend the steps with a flourish.

Digging his hands into the pockets of his threadbare jacket, Chuck nodded approvingly.

"You are most welcome, Dean Winchester."

See? Told you it was just fluff. ;) And for those of you who follow it, an update of 'State Lines' is pending. Promise.