November in Salcha was cruel. It was absurdly cold, the roads were iced over (not that it deterred the locals from taking full advantage of the 65 mph speed limit), and the starless grey night had begun to creep into the hours of day. But when Jo had received a call from an unfamiliar phone number that turned out to be her long lost friend Sam Winchester, there hadn't been any hesitation in accepting the gig. So Jo had nudged Charlie awake, trundled her out to the truck, tossed a couple suitcases (containing a rather disturbing ratio of firearms to clothing) in the back, and pointed the headlights toward the border. Driving through Canada had been absolutely miserable. Charlie spent a vast majority of the trip grumbling about poor planning and the potentiality of being mauled by a moose, while Jo gritted her teeth and squinted down dusky dirt roads, her visibility nearly obliterated by snow. By the time they arrived, a full week later than predicted, and shivering under various overpriced blankets found at dubious shops along the one and only road, the girls were both at their respective wits' ends. Sam ushered them into Bobby's cabin and hurriedly made coffee: black with a shot of bourbon for Jo, and a honey-and-sugar for Charlie. Bobby, who had apparently grown rather soft since 'retiring', immediately pulled Jo into a bear hug before demanding to be introduced to Charlie.

"I hear you're a real wiz with computers," he said, clapping Charlie on the shoulder. She let out a somewhat nervous giggle and shrugged.

"I try," she replied, bone-white fingers curling around the mug of coffee.

There followed several hours of intense conversation regarding the journey through Canada (frequently peppered with eye-rolling and exasperated sighs all 'round), and then finally Jo asked, "So, where's Dean?"

Charlie shifted awkwardly and wiggled maybe a centimeter closer to Jo's side. The subtle gesture didn't go unnoticed. Sam grinned. "Oh, he and Cas- they have a house a few miles down the road. You'll see them at the wedding."

Jo's eyes widened at this. "Wedding? Whose?"

Bobby interjected, "Theirs."

"What? Really? No," Jo laughed, "is that even possible?"

"Well it's not exactly legal, but I mean Cas isn't technically a guy, so-"

"No, no, that part makes sense. It's the idea of Dean, you know, settling down... that's a little unexpected," Jo said. "He's no Mike Brady, from what I remember."

"Yup. That boy's gone downright domestic in the past few years. Got himself a house and a cat and a live-in boyfriend. They can't technically get hitched, o' course. But they're gonna have a little ceremony and then they're going on a damn Disney cruise," Bobby explained, rolling his eyes. "Idjits."

Charlie snorted. "A Disney cruise? You're kidding."

"Cas's idea, believe it or not," Sam said. "I think Dean's just in for the 24/7 buffet."

Bobby shook his head. "I knew that angel was trouble." But there's a wealth of affection in his tone, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Anyway, it's planned for this weekend. You know, while you're already here, we figured you'd come," Sam suggested hopefully.

"Well, I didn't bring a dress or anything," Jo said, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear.

Bobby quirked an eyebrow, amused. "Jo, this is Dean we're talkin' about. If you think for a second he'll give a rat's hairy ass what you wear, you don't know him very well."

Jo turned to give Charlie a questioning look, and Charlie nodded. "Yeah, of course we'll go."

"Great," Sam said happily. "Just wait till you see them- Dean's gotten chubby."

Jo and Charlie burst into laughter. "What? Dean Winchester with a beer gut? Yeah, that'll be a sight to see!"

"I don't think I've ever seen that boy smile so much since he was a kid," Bobby said softly.

"Good for them," Charlie remarked, smiling. Jo hummed in agreement.

"Yeah. He deserves it. Happiness," Jo said. Charlie yawned and tipped her head to lean on Jo's shoulder. Sam glanced between them with a sudden burst of understanding, his mouth curving into a little circle.

"Oh," he murmured.

Jo winked at him surreptitiously and flicked her eyes toward the sleepy redhead beside her. "Yep. So, we're really tired. Where are we sleeping?" she asked, getting to her feet. She took Charlie by the hand and pulled her up.

Bobby stood up and gestured for them to follow. "Sam's gonna be on the couch, so y'all get the guest room. It ain't the Ritz, but I reckon it beats sleeping in the truck." He led them upstairs and stopped at the end of a hallway. He pulled a lamp cord and suddenly the bedroom was faintly illuminated with yellow light. There was a rickety, ancient wooden queen bed with floral sheets that looked to have been purchased in the 1950s; a white, chipped armoire with a foggy mirror; a rocking chair that held a motley stack of quilts; and a door leading into a tiny bathroom.

"Aww," Charlie commented. "It's like a B&B!"

"If you see a rat, just hit it with this," Bobby instructed gruffly, and handed Jo a baseball bat he'd taken from the closet. Charlie shuddered.

"Got it," Jo said, while Charlie gingerly hopped on the bed and folded her legs beneath her, one eye twitching visibly as she looked around the floor for any sign of rodents.

Jo fought the urge to laugh at her. "Thanks, Bobby," she said, her mouth tugging into a grin.

He nodded and reached over to brush his thumb fondly across Jo's cheek. "You're welcome. Good to see you again, kid," he replied quietly.

He drudged out of the room, leaving the girls alone in their temporary quarters. Charlie shrugged. "It could definitely be worse," she said optimistically, but she was chewing her left thumbnail with all the manic anxiety of a coked-up Chihuahua.

Jo propped the bat against the wall and climbed into bed beside her. "Are you kidding? In comparison to some of the shitholes I've stayed in, this is damn luxurious. We'll be fine."

"Rats and all," Charlie quipped.

Jo slid an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "So, what first? Check out the springs," Jo said, jostling the mattress so that it creaked ominously, "or the pipes?" She jerked a thumb toward the bathroom and poked her tongue out sideways between her teeth.

Charlie tilted her head and tapped her chin with one bone-white finger, pretending to ponder the answer. "I think a good scrub would do us both a lot of good, don't you agree?"

Jo leapt off the bed, scooped Charlie up into her arms with surprising ease, and kissed her before she could even laugh, carrying her into the little bathroom. She pulled a beaded gold chain which triggered the lights to flicker on, and slid Jo into the wall to kiss her softly at first, then with a hard, biting insistence. She could feel Charlie shiver against her, and Jo smiled. "Cold?" she whispered, sliding her hands under the redhead's threadbare sweater. Unsurprisingly, Charlie wasn't wearing a bra, and Jo's fingertips found her nipples already stiff.

Charlie sighed into the warmth of Jo's shoulder, fairy-light kisses speckling the silky skin there. "Getting warmer," she mumbled. She lifted her arms, pulling the sweater up over her head and dropping it on the floor. Jo rocked into Charlie's hips and trailed hard palms up her arms, finally locking her fingers with Charlie's, effectively pinning her. She dipped down to flick her tongue in slow, burning swipes across Charlie's breasts, toying with each nipple between her teeth. Charlie gasped and arched into the sensation, her hair falling in coppery tangles over one shoulder.

"Perfect," Jo said softly. She hooked a finger under the waistband of Charlie's sweatpants and tugged them down. Charlie kicked off her shoes and wriggled out of the pants, leaving her utterly bare save for the lace-trimmed green panties. The tile was freezing cold under the girls' toes, and Jo felt goosebumps rippling and rising on Charlie's skin. Jo stepped back and stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt. "Come on," she said. "Bath time."

She knelt to turn the rusty knob, which squealed and sputtered before releasing a stream of hot water. The tub itself was shockingly large considering the size of the little bathroom, and it was obviously ancient; the once-alabaster porcelain had tinged a sort of sepia color over time, and there were streaks of rusty stains along the bottom of the tub. But it was impeccably clean, thanks most likely to Sam, and as soon as an inch of water had collected, Charlie peeled off her underwear and climbed in.

She yelped at the temperature and gave a rather violent shudder before settling in, wrapping her hair into a loose knot on top of her head. Jo loved to see her this way: earthy eyes fluttering shut, her red rosette of a mouth pulling into a satisfied smile. Jo licked her lips and lowered herself into the tub, careful not to press all of her weight into Charlie just yet. As the water gathered and lapped at the girls' legs and hips, Jo draped her arms around Charlie's neck and kissed her. Breathlessly Charlie muttered, "I feel like I should make some kind of joke about you being a dirty girl, but I'm having a little trouble making coherent thoughts right now."

Jo smirked and rolled her pelvis forward, drawing a sort of sighing moan from Charlie's lips. She watched the redhead's throat bobbing, her collarbone an elegant sculpture under moonlit skin. "You're really, really beautiful," Jo said. Charlie scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

"Shh," she replied, "show, don't tell."

Jo was more than happy to oblige. With one hand wrapped around the back of Charlie's neck, the other slipped down between her legs, stroking lightly. Charlie's lips parted and Jo seized the chance to gently bite her lip, precisely as she pushed one finger inside her, then two. She'd done this enough to know that this was how Charlie wanted it: no trepidation.

"Who's the dirty girl now?" Jo breathed, her lips brushing teasingly over the rosy peak of Charlie's nipple. Her fingers twisted and hooked, sliding into Charlie's cunt smoothly, expertly. At this point, Jo was completely certain that she was more familiar with Charlie's body than her own. She could feel the tell-tale rhythm of Charlie's hips jutting forward to deepen the push, to meet Jo's fingers and wordlessly beg for more. She never needed to ask; Jo was always eager to give, give, give. As Jo's fingers worked inside her, she swept her thumb in pulsing circles over Charlie's clit.

"Oh my fuck," Charlie groaned, her arms coming up to circle Jo's chest, her fingernails scraping deliciously across Jo's ribs. "Fuck." There was something sharp and sparking about the draw of the 'f' sound, filthy as it fell from Charlie's lips. Her head tipped back and her hair fell loose, cascading over the porcelain edge. The clench of Charlie's muscles and the quickening of her breath sent tingling spirals down Jo's thighs and between them. She could feel Charlie getting closer, and it spurred her to plunge a third finger into her. As Charlie gasped and dragged her nails down Jo's back, Jo sucked a rose-colored bruise into her neck.

"Feels good, doesn't it, baby?" Jo growled, nuzzling against Charlie's jaw. "You're so fucking wet, so pretty. Gonna make you scream, make you come all over my fingers, baby girl."

And come she did. With a muffled shout, Charlie's hips rocked up into the pressure of Jo's fingers, her nails nearly breaking skin along the stretch of Jo's spine. "Ahh, Joey," Charlie moaned, and bit her lip to stifle her own cry. Jo kissed her and caressed her through the waves of a first, second, and third orgasm, desperate to drag that private nickname from Charlie's lips again and again. No one had ever called her Joey, not until Charlie, and no one else ever would.

It was exactly the way Jo preferred it.

And when Charlie flipped Jo beneath her in the increasingly tepid bathwater, and hoisted the blonde's shaking thighs over her shoulders to kiss and lick and suck her to the edge, well, that was exactly the way Jo preferred it, too. After this, the hours spent in attentive washing and gentle rinsing, accompanied by unbroken conversation and punctuated with kisses proved to be precisely what the both of them needed after long, frustrating weeks on the road.

Finally, the pair of them rose and wrapped themselves in old, scratchy towels, twisted the excess water from their hair, and wiggled under the sheets. In the absolute darkness of Alaskan winter night, they whispered stories to each other until sleep, at last, arrived to take them away. As usual, Charlie fell asleep first, her fingers twined in Jo's hair. Maybe thirty minutes later, Jo drifted off, the smile never leaving her face. The morning found them much the same way, soft, evanescent sunlight dusting the room, the two girls still very much tangled up in each other.