Being a hunter wasn't a fun life.

There was a never-ending ache in your joints and muscles and there wasn't one moment where you wouldn't be able to sleep if given the chance.

Jo had learned these things after months of hunting on her own. Hot water was pouring from the shower head in her half-decent motel room. It ran down her shoulders and dripped down her small nose. It loosened her tight muscles and calmed her nerves from she hunt she'd just finished. She washed the blood and dirt from her knuckles, scrubbing herself clean, before she simply stood in the warm water.

It wasn't until the water ran cold that she finally turned it off and wrapped herself in a white towel. Jo tucked it in so that it wouldn't fall off and wrapped her hair into another towel.

She opened the small door that separated the toilet and shower from her room and stepped out, feeling the cooler air blow against her wet skin. She shivered in the sudden chill.

In her bag were a face mask and lotion, and she went to grab them. She placed the face mask tube on the counter and popped open the lid to the lavender lotion before squeezing some into her palm. She hit it against the counter to snap the lid closed again and set it back down. She rubbed it between her palms before massaging it onto her arms and legs.

After she finished that, she did the same with the facial mask, only on her cheeks, forehead, chin, and nose. Jo wasn't one to wear facial masks often, but she had just finished a tough hunt and decided tonight was as good a night as any. Her plans were to clean herself up, order a pizza, and watch TV until she fell asleep.

When Jo's phone rang, she rinsed her hands off quickly in the sink and walked to the bedside table to snatch up the small phone. Expecting it to be her mother, she flipped it open and held it to her ear.

"Hey," she said, trying not to move the muscles in her face while the mask dried slowly.

"Hi, Jo," a man's voice said.

Jo felt the muscles in her stomach tighten and she sat down on the bed, fearing that she might collapse. "Dean?" she asked, surprise painting her tone. She was exhausted already, and to hear the voice of the man she thought she'd never hear from again was a shock. She was also suddenly very aware of the fact that she was sitting in only a towel. Not that he could see her, but...

"Yeah." Dean was quiet for a long moment, and there was silence on both ends of the phone call. He cleared his throat. "So how are you?"

Jo scoffed, but instantly regretted it. It wasn't that she was trying to make him feel bad, she was just... stunned. She hadn't heard from Dean in months, and now he called, not because he wanted something, but just to see how she was doing? "I'm... okay," Jo answered honestly.

"Good."

There was another long pause.

"Dean, did you want something specific? Is there something you needed help with?" she asked curiously.

"No, you just kinda crossed my mind earlier. Thought I'd, ah, check in. Y'know, just make sure you were good," he answered in his normally husky voice.

Jo couldn't help the small smile she felt grow on her face, but she felt the mask crack slightly, so she tried to control her muscles and smooth her expression out again. "Dean, no offense, but since when do you care if I'm good?"

It was Dean's turn to scoff. From the time it took him to answer, it seemed as if he were shocked - maybe even offended - by her question. "Jo, I've always cared," he answered.

"Uh-huh," she said in disbelief. "But why the sudden interest? You've never called before. Why are you calling me now?" She knew she probably sounded rude, and her tone was slightly abrasive, but she felt slightly annoyed at the fact that he hadn't bothered to call until now.

"Did I call at a bad time?" Dean asked, sounding immensely confused.

She pulled at the hem of her towel and made a slight face. "No, it's a perfectly good time. So answer the question."

"I told you. You crossed my mind."

"Why?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Dean snorted and his voice sounded more annoyed now than confused.

Jo was silent, leaving the line open for him to answer the question. She began to pick at her nails as the seconds of silence ticked by.

"I talked to Ellen, okay? She told me you were huntin' by yourself. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Told her I'd let her know," Dean admitted.

"Dean, my mom calls every day, and I answer. We talk every night. I tell her about everything except for the things that would make her want to come and drag my ass home. I doubt she would have asked you to call me," Jo replied coolly.

Dean was caught, like a deer in the headlights, and went silent again. "I told myself I'd make sure you were okay," he said, completely honest this time.

Jo smiled slightly, trying not to break the green mask that had hardened across her face. "Well, that's real kind of you, Dean. I'm doin' just fine." Her tone was nicer now and she let her straightened posture relax. "Are you okay?"

"I'm never okay, Jo. But I'm fine," Dean answered, as if he wasn't speaking confusingly at all. But Jo was used to him talking like that and she nodded.

"You wanna talk about whatever it is that's botherin' you?" she offered.

"There's nothin' bothering me."

"There's definitely something botherin' you. You wouldn't have called to check on me if you weren't worried. You never have before."

"I don't wanna talk about it, no. But thanks."

"Yeah," Jo said quietly. "Listen, I gotta dry my hair and find some clean clothes to throw on..." she started.

"Yeah, of course. Take care of yourself, Jo," Dean said slowly.

"Always do. Call me if you need to, Dean. Can't promise I'll answer, but I'll call you back when I can. See ya." Jo flipped the phone closed before he could say anything more and smiled proudly to herself, pleased to have been to one to end the conversation. She felt as if she'd won something, though she wasn't quite sure what exactly.

You just hung up on Dean Winchester, she applauded herself. Way to go, Miss Harvelle.