AN: Hello, guys! I really have to say how disappointed I am that they killed Jo in the series. That episode drove me to tears. I understand why they did it; it had to happen, but the episode confirmed there was, indeed, major Dean/Jo going on. They just never got to consummate it. Dang. :l When he offered her some love that supposedly last night of their lives, Jo should have said yes! Sometimes, you gotta love and hate Jo's integrity -haha. *Sigh* Anyway, I wrote this probably a year ago when I was still super soaked with Dean/Jo goodness. I will always have a soft spot for these two.

Hope you guys read and enjoy. ;)

If people were actually given the chance to sum up Dean Winchester, they would most likely end up with either, or all three words in their mind. Above all else, he was a brother. It was something that even the demons in Hell knew of. Second, he was a hunter. Not only was it in his blood, but he just acted out that part… way too well. One thing to note between the two was that Dean only let one persona rule over the other. When it came to the most important decisions in his life, he had to choose between being a brother or a hunter. Whatever side he must choose, the third word was the only thing that could synch in with either role. Dean Winchester was, thirdly, a womanizer. One didn't need to read all the Supernatural novels to find out in detail how Dean spends his after-hunting activities.

Dean was a smartass, yes, but he was really, a smart guy. Though he was not a genius, the eldest Winchester brother did know himself enough to admit his flaws. He was even proud of these said qualities about him. And one more thing he knew about himself that he was no hypocrite. Black and white –that's how things were with Dean. But when Sam called Dean a 'heartbreaker' one gloomy afternoon in the Impala while they were arguing over something he couldn't remember anymore, that's when Dean hit the breaks, also quite literally, and swerved hard on the side of the road.

"What? I hit a soft spot?" Sam asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"You don't just go around saying something mean like that, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath, trying to keep calm, his grip on the steering wheel hard. With a look of doubt and disdain on his face, he looked at his brother. "Being a womanizer ain't the same as being a heartbreaker."

Sam gave rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. Times like these, he wondered if he could use his psychic powers to shut Dean's piehole for good. When his brother didn't respond, he snorted. With his most sarcastic voice he could muster, he asked, "Yeah? Enlighten me."

Dean shrugged casually. "I like women. I like making 'em happy. So happens making 'em happy makes me happy. See the difference, genius?"

"Obviously, you don't call the morning after."

"That's because they'd be too contentedly tired to even answer a call." Dean smirked to himself, as if remembering a certain experience. Remembering he was teaching Sam a life lesson, he cleared his throat and turned to him. "Now listen, Sam. These women, sure, they let me use them for one great night, and sure, yeah, they'd daydream about me a few days later, but you know what? After a few days? They won't fudgin' care, Sam. They'll forget me just like I forget about them. The truth is, I use them as much as they use me and that's a fact." He raised his pointer up. "A heartbreaker leads women on, Sam, remember that. They linger around women far too long for their own good. Or they like giving false hope and fucked up promises like they'd call when they won't…"

To let these 'verbal spars' die down, Sam knew he had to be the mature one and let his little (he thought with much ridicule in his head) brother rant. It was time to speak up again when it came to this, Dean suddenly becoming quiet, something which Sam interpreted as surrender. Glancing at Dean, Sam felt taken aback at the serious expression on his brother's face. "God, Dean, you're making a big deal out of this." Good brother he was, Sam suddenly felt guilty. "Hey," he said, elbowing Dean's leather-clad bicep. "Snap out of it." When he still got no response, Sam smiled with much encouragement. "Who cares about you being a," he couldn't help himself so he let a little slip, "heartbreaker –er, I mean, womanizer anyway, right?"

After a few seconds, Dean tilted his head. "Right." He maneuvered the Impala back on the road.

Most women Jo Harvelle knew prioritized love in their lives. Though she liked to call herself a little more twisted than the girl next door, Jo could probably agree to the statement. Love came in different ways, and surely, one thing she loved more than anything was sleep. However, she had this realization a little late.

When she was a girl, her mother used to hound her to sleep early, to get her growth hormones kicking in (and to keep her from eavesdropping of 'hunter talk'). Little Joanna Beth would look innocent on her bed once tucked in, but once left alone in her bedroom, sleep was the last option. She would close her eyes not to count sheep, but hopefully to catch on the serious conversations occurring downstairs. Or in some nights when the jukebox was too loud, Jo would parade in her pajamas, fantasizing to be the hunter she knew she'd be. Sleep came way past midnight but she knew she could have just continued playing, or kept practicing her knife handling much to her mother and father's disappointment.

Now, after bar-tending and hunting, all Jo ever wanted to have was a good night of sleep. Just like tonight. Though exhausted and groggy, her mind was alert and awake. Her thoughts were running in circles, making plans, anticipating, and anxious. Usually she was this way when something bad or unexpected was to happen –something that wasn't new to someone with a job like hers.

"Just come to me," she whispered, closing her eyes, and hopefully, sleep could hear her. A few hours would do, she bargained. Say three or four? Sighing to herself, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. If she knew better, she'd say that sleep nowadays were like the men in her life –they flirted with her throughout the night, but they wouldn't really stay with her for hours. OK, maybe sometimes, she was the one who left before dawn, but that was a different story. "Come on, Jo, you're tired," Jo slurred lazily. "It's time to catch some Zs."

The lovely drowsiness came a few minutes later, her body finally listening to her plea. Jo's lids closed, heavy like tons, and she lay still above her double bed, above the sheets, arms and feet spread wide, the cool night air relaxing her lingerie-clad body. The sleep of the dead, she happily mused inside her head, and was about to drift off to the wonderful world of snooze when her hunter senses tingled.

You're dreaming, Jo, she told herself, and tried to succumb again to the feeling. You didn't hear anything. At all. When the chain of her double-locked door jingled against the doorframe, all it took was a second for Jo to be on her feet and switch on to being a hunter. Making a detour to ambush the stranger, Jo crept up behind the large figure that was headed for her room. I know my little house better than you do, bastard, she thought inside her head. "Fuckin' move and I shoot." The man raised his hands and Jo got the shock of her life when one of the hands adorned a very familiar silver ring… No fucking way. "Dean?"

"Jo."

Maybe Sam was right about accusing him of being a heartbreaker. Judging by the look on Jo's face (despite her tempting Victoria's Secret), she was pretty hell-bent on putting a hole on his chest. "Well… hello?" He slowly put his hands down and licked his lips. "Mind if I talk to you for a minute?"

Jo just stared at him perplexed.

The more she stared, the more Dean got to appreciate the view. If there wasn't a shotgun aimed at him, he would find the strength to give her a compliment. Or an erection. "Jo?"

As if waking up from a daze, or probably recovering from the shock of his intrusion, Jo's eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk," Dean quickly replied, hoping to imply that he meant business. He really did want to talk to her, though seeing her like this was giving him plenty of ideas... He cleared his throat. "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Dean joked, hoping to relieve some tension. It backfired, though.

Jo's eyes locked down on him and he felt like he was going to die when she cocked her gun. "Another wrong word, I swear to God…"

It was a given that Dean was terrified of Ellen… but Jo… all sexy and angry… Dean gulped quite audibly. This woman was going to be the death of him. If she shot him dead in all her half-naked glory, he would be willing to bid everyone (hell and heaven included) a happy goodbye. Sam would understand and would tease him in his grave about it. He opened his mouth to talk, but no words came out. Upstairs brain or downstairs brain? Both fought against each other for dominion…

"You'll be six feet under if you don't tell me why you're here, Winchester," Jo snapped, interrupting his thoughts.

"Jo…" Mind and body at war, Dean blurted out the one thing he came here to ask her. Scrunching his eyes close, he yelled, "Did I break your heart!" His hand automatically went to touch his stomach, hoping to find a bloody mess of his insides or what was left of it, he frowned when he felt his hard abs intact against his palm. Still eyes closed, he frowned, and peeked one eye to look at her. Her shotgun was swinging lazily on her side, her shoulders shaking, as her head was bent forward, her blonde locks shielding her face from his view. It took him a moment to realize she was laughing. "Jo…?"

"God, I must be dreaming," Jo said after her burst of laughter. She wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and sighed. Looking up, she met his gaze. "Oh. You're still here."

"You… are… are you OK?"

"Dean?"

"Yes…?"

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah…?"

"Were you serious about your question?"

"I wouldn't drive halfway around the country to just say hi, would I?"

They sat awkwardly on the bar downstairs, both of them on the stool, a bottle of whiskey between their half-filled glasses. Though she was wearing her leather jacket (which was zipped up to her neck) and her short shorts, Jo still felt like cowering in embarrassment because of what just happened upstairs. Dean admitted that he really did come to her to ask her said question. Now he was waiting for her to say something. She wanted to ask if it really mattered, because truthfully, she expected that both of them, in their own way, had put whatever was between them in the past. "Well, for what it's worth…" she watched in amusement as Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Yes. You did."

Dean caught her eyes quickly. "I…"

"But it was good," she whispered, and then took a gulp of her drink. She took a deep breath. "I always believed that learning is best achieved through experience." Grinning tiredly, she nodded. "And I know better." She put a comforting hand on his arm. "A friend once told me that physical attraction never dies, but love does. I know it sounds funny and wrong, but I want to believe that. And I do. I'm just glad I got over the past and found it in me to move on." He was still quiet, and Jo felt a familiar rush of warmth run through her –Dean in anguish always got to her. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Things like these happen. Good looking guys like you shouldn't find this surprising, right?"

"I have to go," Dean said, and downed the last of his drink. He stood up, and headed towards the door. He paused. "Lock up."

It was like a replay of the past, just without the promise (turns out it was) to call. As Jo listened to the Impala drive off away from the bar, she resigned herself upstairs.

Now back in her lingerie, she lay down on her bed thinking of Dean Winchester…

Sam knew better than to ask where Dean drove off to last night. He didn't say a word, just took the extra set of motel keys with him and left. So he gave the quiet. It didn't take long for Dean to burst. Like in five… four… three… two…

"She said she learned something. She was feeling damn good about it too!" Dean growled. "Does she think that she's got the upper hand or something?"

Sam didn't think he was interested about the 'woman', whoever she was, if Dean hadn't begun muttering something about an angry mother under his breath. Sam's eyes widened in sudden recognition. Only one mother ever scared Dean. "Dude, you slept with Jo!"

Dean looked at him in awe. "If I did, do you think I'd even have the honor of driving around with my family jewels attached?" He pounded the steering wheel with his clenched fist. "Moved on. Just because I fucking don't give her a call she's moved on!"

"Dean…"

"She said she learned something!" Dean said again. "Why was she so glad about it, Sam? And why am I so angry!"

Sam tried to think of something less offending to say. "Maybe… because…" He should have seen this coming. He scrunched his nose, trying to think, trying to make sense. Trying to believe this was actually Dean talking. "Maybe you're angry because you let her go. And you can't take that back."

"This is what I hate, you doing the Dr Phil on me," Dean retorted. "I didn't let her go, Sam, she wasn't mine in the first place!"

"Well, at least you know that part." Sam shrugged. "Question is. Why are you so mad about it, huh? I don't get it either." Well, he did, but he wasn't going to say anything. His little brother was smart enough to figure that out on himself. He felt like smiling, so he turned his gaze towards the window and grinned to his ears. Dean was in love and it was driving him insane.

Despite her petite frame, Jo had survived through the troubles in her life thinking that she was a big girl. But as she cleaned the counter top, wiping over and over again on a stain that had been left for years, she felt her insides turn at the memory of Dean in her bar a few nights ago. Always before and after closing up, she would make the calls necessary to make sure no hunt was going on before she could finally rest and hopefully, sleep in peace. She was about to go upstairs when a familiar hum of engine caught her attention. Her heart started to thump loudly, and as much as she could, tried to walk casually to the front door. As she swung it open, before their gazes met, she was pressed up against his frame, his full lips crashing down on hers, melting her being, that he had to steady her with his arms.

"W-wh…" she moaned in confusion as she opened her eyes and tried to look at him. "Dean…."

Dean nuzzled her neck, taking a deep breath in. "If you answer my call, Jo, it means you're mine." He squeezed her one more time, dropped a kiss on top of her head, and let her go. "And I'm yours, of course."

Before she could process Dean's revelation inside her brain (and her heart), all Jo could manage was a rather obedient nod. What the hell…?

"I have to go. Wait for me, OK?"

He didn't even wait for her reply. In another second, he left her there, stunned, her lips swollen, with a look of surprise on her face. Jo watched helplessly as the Impala drove away into the night. Of course he'd tell her those things to, in a way, apologize to her… Damn it, she thought, as she felt her cellphone vibrate on her hip.

Dean felt relief wash over his being when he heard her take the call. Before she could ask him if he was drunk or wasted, he immediately took control. "I want to take things slow. I… Jo… can we try this?"

"Try what, god damn it!"

"Us, Jo. Us." He pulled over to the side of the road, knowing that he was probably such a pansy ass bastard for not having this conversation with Jo straight in the face, when she was just around the corner. But hey, it's better if she knew he was actually strong enough to leave. He turned off the ignition and listened to her rant on the other line.

"If you were so determined to have me then you would have at least stayed and talked to me like a normal person would, you spineless jerk!"

Ok, she knew he was a wimp. Better having that out in the open anyway, Dean thought. "I can't… let's… reserve the love making for another day. I just…"

"What?"

Dean found himself smiling as he thought of her, mad in her apron and boots. "A little impatient now, aren't we?"

"You're fuckin' high, Dean. Are you still driving?"

"No. All that matters is, you answered my call." Jo hated him for it, Dean knew, but she knew exactly what it meant. The red cancel button was always a choice, but here they were, now miles apart, but somehow, together. "Maybe yeah, you don't love me yet, but I'm a hundred percent sure you're infatuated with me."

"You egotistic son of a bitch…"

"That's enough for me to start with, Jo and though you dislike the idea, you're still talking to me."

Silence.

"What do you say you come over for our next hunt…?"

Jo Harvelle hang up on him, but Dean had a rather large smile on his face. Without another thought, he redialed her number and waited for her to pick up. "OK, now I know you love me."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"You keep answering my calls, baby. That green phone button must be melting hot with your anticipation," Dean said sweetly. "Now I just know you can't resist me." He expected her to hang up, but a dejected sigh was heard on the other line.

"Yeah. I guess I can't."

"That's my girl," he said, though it also meant that he was thankful for giving him another chance. "Hello?" A knock on his window startled him like shit. Jo stood on the other side. "What the!"

Jo glared at him and he jumped out of the Impala like it was on fire. They took a moment to stare at each other, and wasted no time as they abruptly went on each other like there was no tomorrow.

Before things heated up, Jo pushed form him a little and took a breather. "Wow. You that serious?"

"Like a heartbeat."

With that, Jo smiled, and vaulted up, wrapping herself around him. As they made out on the side of the road in the middle of the night, they knew, that would have to do for now.

AN: There ya go. I will surely miss Jo and Dean together. Please read and review! ;)