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She swore up and down that she wouldn’t call.
To be fair, she always swore she wouldn’t call.
Jo flopped down onto her stomach on the hotel room bed and reached for her cell phone.
It was always easier to say that whenever it was daylight, before the night swept in. Before the hunt.
Before she started drinking.
She put the bottle of tequila down onto the floor and flipped open her cell.
Two hours ago, this wouldn’t have been an issue.
She frowned at the clock in front of, then had to squint for a moment as the one looked like a seven and then cleared in her vision.
What the Hell.
He probably wouldn’t answer anyway.
And if he did, hopefully she wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
And if she had any balls at all, she’d just get off her ass and head out to wherever he was and have this dialogue in person.
Except she never knew where he and Sam were and anyways, it was one fifteen in the morning.
And she’d been drinking since ten.
Jo bit down hard on her lip as she pushed the call button on his name.
She closed her eyes and flipped over onto her back so she could stare up at the ceiling as the phone rang.
She decided she’d only let it ring five times. If he didn’t pick up after five rings, she’d hang up. He could be asleep, passed out or. . .busy.
Whether killing some monster or with a girl, she didn’t want to think about it.
Two. Three. Four.
“Jo?”
Oh. Oh, shit.
Jo sat up slightly and then flopped back down as she was still a little blurry around the edges.
“Hi,” Jo said, feeling somewhat lame and suddenly unable to think of a single damn thing to say.
“What’s wrong?”
That startled her a bit, as did the concern in his voice.
It wasn’t the first time she’d called him up randomly since he’d swore he’d call her after that debacle where Sam was possessed.
She frequently called him while she was out on her own, because she needed advice that wasn’t the protective one of her mother or Bobby.
Sometimes he called just because he wanted to talk.
Hell, it wasn’t even the first time she’d called him in the middle of the night. And Jo had the suspicion she was usually at the top of his drunk dial list. God knew she fielded enough calls about running refrigerators and commentary about whatever infomercials were on at three in the morning that she shouldn’t feel bad about calling him in the middle of the night for once.
She didn’t think he ever called her because he was needing to speak to her specifically, though. She was probably just at the top of his contact list or something.
She usually called him specifically because it was him she needed to talk to.
She never quite got up the courage to just say “get here, now. Please.”. She was afraid he’d laugh at her, despite infuriating evidence to the contrary.
To be fair, now that she thought about it for a moment, he always answered as if he thought she was going to need him for something.
And there was usually once or twice a month where she considered calling him and Sam because a hunt had gotten to be too much or just because she didn’t want to do a particular job alone.
When she commented on this once to Bobby, he’d said something that sounded suspiciously like he was trying to deter her from getting in touch with the boys. Something about them hunting some big bad that they needed to focus on.
That she shouldn’t distract them from whatever it was they were doing.
Which was why Jo typically never told Dean where she was, although he’d asked before. Why she never asked where he and Sam were at and didn’t make a beeline straight there.
Which was difficult sometimes.
“What’s wrong, Jo?’
Jo sighed slightly and folded one hand behind her head.
“Nothing, really,” she said after a moment.
She didn’t think “I needed to hear the sound of your voice” was exactly the thing to say right then.
Although it was true.
Nor did she think, “I’m really glad you answered the phone” would help her case any either.
She bit down on her lip to bite back the grin that formed as she heard him sigh and what sounded like a car door slam.
“Are you busy?” she said, because it occurred to her again that she might be interrupting something.
“No,” he said, and there was the sound of what was probably the Impala’s trunk opening. “I’m heading into the hotel for the night,” he said.
Oh. “Where’s Sam?” she said after a moment’s thought.
Silence for another long time. “Out with a girl,” came the response, in a tone that seemed to say not to ask anything else.
Which sucked because it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if the girl was pretty, mostly just to tease, but Dean didn’t sound like he particularly wanted to be teased about it.
She heard the hotel room door open and then close. “So, where are you?” he said after the silence had stretched on a little too long.
Jo reached over to pick up the motel stationery off the nightstand.
“Pocatello, Idaho,” she said, tossing the stationery back onto the nightstand. Jo twisted a strand of hair around her finger absently for a moment. “There’s a nest of vamps terrorizing a couple of the nearby towns,” she said. She wondered for a moment what he’d say if she said she needed his help. If he’d drop what he was doing to come to her aid or if he’d just offer advice. She usually called him with a specific question when it came to hunts specifically so he wouldn’t offer.
Although she usually wished he would offer.
She almost said, “where are you?” but thought of Bobby’s warnings and changed her mind at the last minute.
If they didn’t need the distraction. . .or if they needed the help, someone would have asked. Well, Sam would have asked, anyway. Whatever. They could keep their damn secrets if they wanted to.
“If you need any help,” he said after a moment. “Don’t hesitate to ask. God knows I could use the distraction.”
“What about Sam? Shouldn’t he have some say?”
She heard what she suspected was him suppressing a sigh. “Sam’s gonna be busy for a few days.”
Well. . .fuck.
What she needed. . .What she really wanted. . .
Oh, hell. This was why she shouldn’t drink tequila.
It occurred to her vaguely that he might be lying about Sam being busy just because maybe he wanted to see her too.
Well, she hoped that was what was going through his mind. She wondered sometimes if he ever thought of her. . .if he ever called her because of the same reason she was calling him.
If he just chickened out the same way she was doing right now.
Oh Hell. She could use the help with the nest.
She wanted to see him.
Needed to see him.
Whatever happened or didn’t happen didn’t matter.
At least she’d see him face to face, which hadn’t happened in ages.
It was better to see him and have nothing happen then sit around and wonder what would have happened if she’d had the balls to break down and say “I need to see you.”
Jo took a deep breath.
What the Hell.
She flipped open the matchbook for the motel that had the address on it.
“765 Second Street,” she read. “Room 309.”
“I’m in Kansas right now,” he said. “I can be there in about three hours.”
Jo bit down on her lip and looked down at the half empty tequila bottle at her feet.
She’d either be sober or completely shit faced by then.
Jo took a deep breath.
“Three hours.”
“Right.” She could hear the slight laugh in his voice that made her wonder if he hadn’t been drinking as well. “Two and a half if I drive the way I normally do.”
“Be careful,” she said.
“Of course.”
Jo started to hang up, then hesitated. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
She closed her eyes and then opened them again. “I’m really glad you answered.”
This time he definitely laughed. “I always answer.”
She smiled slightly.
“I know. Just. . .thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied. “I might not be much help.”
“I mean it,” Jo said with more determination than before.
“Thank you.”
Silence for a moment, then,
“Any time, Jo.”