Author's note: Hello again! I was going to post this tomorrow, but I got way better response than I thought I would for the first chapter, so I thought I'd be kind and finish it now. I've got an orthodontist appointment tomorrow anyhow since I busted my retainer (oops) so heaven knows if I would've been able to do it then either. But whatever. Enough about me. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Supernatural is in no way mine

Chapter 2: Love and Sorrow

Dean knocked on Jamie's front door with absolutely no idea what to expect. As insane as it was, he had never been inside her house or met anyone in her family. What if they didn't like him? They had no reason to. It wasn't like he was good enough for Jamie in any way.

The door was opened by an old woman who smiled at Dean sweetly. "How may I help you, dear?"

"I'm looking for Jamie?"

The woman's mouth opened slightly in shock, then she said, "Maybe you'd better come in, darling. What's your name?"

"Dean."

The lady sat him down on her couch. "Well then, Dean, please wait here a second."

Man, this wasn't normal. Where was Jamie? What was going on? The lady was too old to be Jamie's mom. Her grandma, maybe?

A second later, the lady was back, a heavy, framed photograph with her. She sat down and handed it to Dean. "Is this who you're talking about?"

Dean studied the picture. "Yeah." It was Jamie in a sparkly purple dress. "Can I talk to her?"

"Honey, let me tell you a little story."

Well shit. That never meant anything good.

"Jamie was asked out on a date to a party. She went to wait on a bench outside the library. It was raining."

Dean's mind felt blank. He'd been willing to throw away everything he'd ever known, at the very least he'd already completely destroyed the something vaguely resembling a relationship he'd had with his dad, and Jamie was cheating? His Jamie? He was too out of it to acknowledge that it didn't all fit. Or that this old lady was awake at four in the morning.

"Her date never came. She started to walk home, but she was hit by a car and killed."

Dean just blinked. No. It couldn't be true. He'd know if Jamie'd been killed. He'd've felt it.

The lady reached out and gently put a hand on his knee. "Dean, that was twenty years ago."

XxXxX

It took John a little while to find Jamie Lewis's grave, but he got there in the end. He took his shovel and started digging.

John had known Jamie when she was alive, had been at her funeral when she died, but as much as he'd liked her, no ghost was going to toy with Dean. Not his son.

"John."

John paused and looked up. Jamie had materialized next to her grave. He surreptitiously nudged the salt circle he'd placed there closed. She wasn't getting out of there. "Jamie."

"What're you doing?" She sounded for all the world like a terrified eighteen-year-old girl. He would've felt a little sympathy for her if it weren't for Dean's jacket still wrapped around her shoulders. He'd wondered where that'd gone.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He went back to his digging.

"John - please-" Jamie started forward, but suddenly stopped. She stared down at the salt circle, then up at John in horror.

John stopped digging and grinned at her. "You might've been a decent girl, Jamie, but no ghost gets to mess with my son. Dean's got enough to deal with as it is." He turned back to his digging.

"John, you have to understand that I love Dean. I would never hurt him, not for anything. I know I'm a ghost and you have a hard time being okay with this, since you're a hunter, but that doesn't change that I love Dean and Dean loves me."

"Does he know you're a ghost?" John asked.

Jamie was silent for a second, then in a very small voice said, "No."

"Then you're lying to him and using him, and I'm not okay with that."

"John, please. Think about what you're doing. Dean's not gonna be okay with this."

"Once he knows you're a ghost, he's gonna be just fine with it. He'll thank me for doing this, and he'll come with me when I leave tomorrow."

"You're trying to make him leave when he doesn't want to?" Jamie was actually crying. John told himself it was because she was afraid. These were not tears for Dean. "Oh John, you're trying to make him leave when he doesn't want to? Haven't you done enough to him? He's a boy, not your own personal soldier!"

"You're old enough to be his mother! And you're dead! And you're trying to take him away from me!"

"It's not taking if he wants to go, John. Dean wants to be here with me. Why can't you just let him be happy?"

John glared at Jamie. "Why Dean, huh? You could've had one of the other boys around town."

"He's the only one who's ever looked at me and seen me, John! Dean's the first person to be kind to me and care about me in twenty years! Your boy's special whether you like it or not, and he's made his decision. If you respect Dean at all, John, you need to respect that."

"Jamie, he's not going to be young and beautiful forever." John had never been a good judge of whether or not other men were attractive, but he could tell by the way girls would try and count Dean's freckles and stare, transfixed, at his eyes and lips and shoulders that his son was an incredibly good looking person. "He'll get old and die, and you'll always be an eighteen-year-old ghost. What happens when he's forty and you lose interest in him? What then, huh?"

"Those things don't matter, John! I don't love Dean's body, I love his soul!"

"Don't you even talk about that!" If there was one thing John would always guard jealously, it was his boy's soul. It was already damaged enough as it was. Dean didn't deserve any more. "It's not like it belongs to you!"

"We belong to each other, don't you get it?! It's not that hard to understand." Jamie dropped to her knees and carved 'Winchester' over her last name so that the gravestone read 'Jamie Winchester' instead of 'Jamie Lewis'.

"This is how it's supposed to be!" Jamie sobbed from the ground as John finally broke open her coffin and poured salt and lighter fluid over her body. "Dean and I belong together, and you can't change that! I love him!"

John lit a match and held it over the grave.

Suddenly, a scream came from behind him. "DAD, DON'T!"

John closed his eyes briefly at the agony in his son's voice, then dropped the match.

XxXxX

Dean had been searching through the surprisingly large cemetery for a while, looking for Jamie's headstone. Proof that what the old lady had said was true.

He was starting to think it wasn't there to find - something perfectly okay with him - when he heard voices. Wondering what somebody could possibly be doing in a cemetery at this time of night, he followed them. And what he saw when he got there made his blood run cold.

"DAD, DON'T!" Dean screamed, running forward, but he wasn't fast enough.

John dropped the match into the grave.

"NO!" Dean lunged towards Jamie, who locked eyes with him one last time before winking out of existence, a look in her eyes that spoke of love and sorrow.

John caught Dean around the waist and threw him back, away from the headstone and onto the ground.

For a second, Dean stared in horrified shock at the place Jamie had been, the fire in the grave dwindling to nothingness. Another person he loved more than life itself lost to its burning blaze. First one tear, then more, began to make their way down Dean's face. "You son of a bitch! How could you?!"

"It's for your own good." John was so calm, and Dean was about ready to go ballistic because of it. He shouldn't be so calm. Not after how thoroughly he'd just ruined everything.

"Bullshit." Dean gripped the grass tightly in his fists, wanting to belt John across the face, but knowing how badly that would probably end.

"Drop it, Dean." John turned to leave, cold and callous, like what he'd just done meant absolutely nothing.

And Dean snapped. He jumped up, grabbed John's shoulder, spun him around, and punched him in the jaw.

For a second, all that existed was stunned silence and the enormity of what they'd both done that night. Then they jumped on each other, both intending to make the other beg, neither intending to stop.

Dean hadn't eaten much in the last week, too busy making sure Sam got enough, so he was tired and slower than usual. And that was what screwed him over. He honestly probably could've given John a run for his money if he were at the top of his game.

As it was, the whole thing quickly turned from a 'fight' to a one-sided 'let's see how many times we can kick Dean while he's on the ground before he passes out-fest'. At first, Dean tried to put a stop to it, but that wasn't working, so eventually he just wrapped his arms around his stomach to try and lessen the strength of the blows. And the kicks just kept coming.

"Dad…" Dean whispered.

And John paused. Breathing heavily, he backed up a couple steps. "You come on back to the house when you're ready to be obedient." He turned and stalked off.

Dean wasn't angry at John for beating him bloody. He deserved it. He'd been disobedient, he'd talked back, he'd fought, and he'd thrown the first punch. Even just one of those things was enough to justify this beating. With all those together, he deserved it four times as much.

Dean knew he should get up and go home. John would be expecting him to be there to pack and help Sam do the same.

But when Dean shifted just a little, blinding pain tore up his side. He barely had time to give a little gasp before he lost consciousness.

XxXxX

Castiel searched the graveyard for a young Dean.

See, Dean had told Cas about this night after he had a dream - excuse me, screaming nightmare - about it. Cas was furious, to say the least, and while he couldn't save the ghost girl, since there were some things in time that just shouldn't be messed with, there was one thing he could do.

He searched for hours, refusing to give up on Dean and just leave him here, until finally he found what he came for.

He knelt next to the boy who was lying, beaten and bloody, on the ground. There was an open grave nearby, the smoldering remains of a body still visible. That must've been Jamie's grave. Castiel couldn't see any reason why John would have issues with this particular spirit. She was kind and had never hurt anyone. It wasn't like she would've done anything to Dean. Honestly, sometimes Cas wished he could just smite that man.

"Well, this is unfortunate." Cas muttered. With a sigh, he slipped one arm under Dean's back and the other under his knees and gently lifted him up, cradling him like a baby. He would heal Dean after he got him home. He wanted John Winchester to see the damage he'd caused. He wanted to see guilt on that man's face.

XxXxX

Castiel kneed the door to the house three times, since his hands were too occupied to knock. A couple seconds later, John Winchester opened the door.

"Dean, you-" He froze. After a second's tense silence, he said, "Who are you and what are you doing with my son?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord. And I believe I have something that belongs to you." Cas looked down at Dean pointedly.

John glared at Cas for a second before he stepped back grudgingly and allowed him to bring Dean in. The angel gently laid Dean out on the couch.

"Why's he such a mess?" John asked gruffly. It was pretty clear by the look on his face that in the dark cemetery he hadn't been able to see the extent of the damage he'd done.

Cas gave him this 'are you freaking kidding me?' look. "Because of you, John."

John was frozen in shock for a second, then his expression hardened. "He punched me first."

"Don't even try to pretend that was a fair fight." When Cas was done, he was done. "He's tired and starving and grieving, and every single one of those things is your fault. He's a person, not a robot." Turning away from John before he had a chance to answer, Cas laid a gentle hand on Dean's forehead.

John took a step forward. "Don't you-"

Cas didn't know what John assumed he was doing, but he just healed Dean's injuries and took his hand away.

John stared at his son in shock. "You… how did you…"

The angel smiled, but it was a cold smile. A smile that promised destruction if Cas ever saw John again. "I told you. I'm an angel of the Lord."

XxXxX

"Dean? Why're you on the couch?"

Dean stirred and opened his eyes. Sam was standing next to the couch looking down at him in confusion.

Dean paused. Why was he on the couch? "I… I dunno." He sat up slowly, looking around. The last thing he remembered was passing out at the cemetery.

The cemetery… Jamie…

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You look like you wanna cry."

"I-"

"Sam." John came out of his room. "Can you give Dean and me a minute?"

Sam looked concerned, but did as he was told.

John didn't say a word about what happened in the graveyard. He didn't explain why Dean was in good condition now when the last thing Dean remembered was being so battered he passed out when he tried to move. He simply said, "Are you coming with us or not?"

As much as Dean hated it, he knew what his answer had to be. "I'm coming. But for Sam, not for you." Never for him. Ever again.

EIGHT YEARS LATER

Dean didn't know why he'd come back here. His dad was missing, and he was on his way to go get Sam. He should've been just driving it straight and moving on with his life. But with Claryville basically along the way, he couldn't help himself.

Dean wandered through the cemetery, remembering. It'd been eight years since what'd happened here, and it still hurt just as bad as it had then. He'd never gotten past it, never been quite able to forgive John. Even though they'd been careful to behave exactly the same towards each other as before and Sam hadn't noticed any difference, something was broken between them that could never be fixed.

Dean had never loved anyone else that much again. Sam had encouraged other relationships, but none of them had ever become anything. He'd never gotten that feeling like the one he'd gotten with Jamie. It was like the part that felt that had died inside him. Jamie had taken it with her.

"Dean." It was the old lady from Jamie's house that Dean had figured out by now was her mother. Based on the direction she'd come from, she was on her way back from visiting Jamie's grave.

"Hey, Mrs. Lewis."

"My goodness, it's been a while. What are you doing back here?"

"Passing through. I can't believe you remember me."

"It would be hard to forget a boy like you. The look on your face when I told you about Jamie. And you're so beautiful. And you… well, you still look like you're carrying the weight of the world, and you feel like you deserve to be. You don't forget when you see someone who carries themself that way."

Dean stared at Mrs. Lewis. Nobody ever talked to him that way. Hell, nobody talked to anyone that way.

Smiling, Mrs. Lewis patted his shoulder and left. Slightly dazed, Dean kept going.

He wasn't carrying the weight of the world. The weight of his life, sure. The weight of his family. His memories. All the people he had to save from all the nightmares out there. All the people he hadn't been able to. All the people he'd never be able to.

Okay, never mind. Weight of the world wasn't a horrible way to describe it.

Dean was so lost in thought that he didn't even realize he'd gotten to Jamie's grave until he was right in front of it. And what he saw made him stop and stare.

The grave looked a lot like he'd left it. 'Winchester' was still carved over 'Lewis', it was still a plain grey stone. The hole had obviously been filled back in, but there was only one real difference.

His jacket, the one he'd given Jamie, the one she'd been wearing when his father had dropped that match and taken her away, was hung over the right-hand side of the headstone.

Dean crouched, slowly reached out his hand, and touched it. He wasn't seeing things. It was real. How? From what he'd seen that night, the jacket had disappeared along with Jamie. How could it possibly be here now?

He gently lifted it off the grave and stood. What was he supposed to do? This seemed like a sign of some kind, but he didn't understand what it was a sign of. It wasn't like Jamie could ever come back to him. Salt and burn meant that she was gone. As gone as it was humanly possible to be. Maybe the universe was just taking pity on him and giving him back some small piece of the girl he loved.

After half an hour of just standing there clutching the jacket, Dean headed back to the Impala and hid it at the bottom of the trunk. He couldn't leave it behind, but he couldn't really handle looking at it. The trunk was a good place for those kinds of things.

He threw one last glance towards where Jamie's grave was, even though he couldn't see it anymore. "I love you so much." he whispered, then climbed in the Impala and drove away.

Dean never went back there. He had no reason to. But he never forgot his Jamie. The first girl he'd loved. Beautiful, sweet Jamie who'd looked at him like he was God's gift to this world.

The first person since his mom died, other than Sam, who'd ever made him feel like he was actually worth something.

Author's afterthought: Ta-Da! I hope that endings all good with everybody. I wasn't originally intending to include Cas, but I just couldn't help myself. While Dean's my favorite, I love my baby in a trench coat.

PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!

Okay, too needy. Shutting up now.