Disclaimer: Dean Winchester, Jo (Joanna) Harvelle and every other character you recognise belongs to Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises and Wonderland Sound and Vision. The plot belongs to me.

A/N: This story is being written for the annual FAGE gift exchange at FanFicAholics Anon on Facebook. This year I was given a prompt by Claire Bloom which I managed to fit in with an already existing idea. I have included the prompt at the end of the story to keep the plot somewhat suspenseful.

This story was very much inspired by a Tumblr image I saw of Dean and Jo. It made me want to try writing my own fic. It's a major AU, the only thing I am using from the show 'Supernatural' will be the actual characters. I have tried to be as historically accurate as possible.

Read, review but most of all enjoy.

The Fallen Kite

London, 1944

It was early in the south ward of St. Bartholomew's Hospital as Joanna Harvelle started her rounds. She was a Resident Nurse at the old London hospital, and she loved her job. She mostly worked in the children's ward on the ground floor. But today was her first day in a new ward.

The south ward was very different then what she was used to. The men were all soldiers, grievously wounded, most of them with bullet and shrapnel wounds, or missing limbs. They needed constant care as their wounds slowly mended. Every morning new patients would be carried into the hospital, transported directly from the front line.

They were stable, the field hospitals in France having done the initial patch-up and emergency surgery. But they couldn't stay there, they didn't have the room, or the facilities. So they were transferred back to England.

St. Barts - as it was affectional known, didn't only treat the British soldiers, but all the allied armies, including the Australians and the French. When the United States entered the war in 1941 the nurses took care of them too.

It wasn't the only hospital in the city that treated the soldiers coming from the front line - there were too many wounded for that – but it was one of the largest. They were fixed up, and if their wounds weren't too serious they were transported back to the battlefield to serve their unit again. If the wounds were permeant, like the loss of a limb, they were transported back home, and honourably discharged from the army.

The south ward was a large, long narrow room with high ceilings and big arched windows. The beds were crammed in, almost triple the capacity this Ward would normally house. It wasn't ideal, but the Hospital was adamant at keeping the wounded soldiers separate from the rest of its patients - to keep the already frightened public from seeing the true atrocities of war.

Joanna was a little nervous to be starting in a new ward. But she took a deep calming breath, and smoothed down her apron before walking inside. There was no time for dramatics. The soldiers closest to the door all turned to look at her, some smiled, and a few even nodded a greeting. One man frowned and turned away, the bloody bandage over his head covering one eye.

Joanna looked around and smiled. She was a nurse, this was what she had been trained to do, what she was born to do. She walked across the ward to a small alcove in the corner that held a few cupboards and some trolleys. She took a trolley and started getting out her supply of bandages, gauze, tweezers, gloves and other things she would need to treat the wounded.

. . .

Jo slowly made her way around the ward, starting from one end and moving to the other. She checked each soldier's injuries, changing bandages, checking temperatures, and giving medicine. Some of the men had lost arms or legs, others had bullet and shrapnel wounds. One man had two broken legs and another had even lost both his eyes.

It was hard work, the soldiers didn't cry out in pain like the children were like to do, but she knew it must have hurt all the same as she changed and dressed their wounds. Most chatted to her in low voices, seeming to like the company, but a few were quiet and morose, not even looking at her, their thoughts turned inwards. All had the distant look of a man who had seen true horrors.

She tried not to judge them for it.

She moved on to the next bed. This man was a little younger than the others, she guessed he wasn't much older than 17. He was missing both his legs.

She took a deep breath, and kept her feelings to herself. "Good morning," she said pleasantly. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said quietly, turning his head and watching her as she put on a new pair of gloves.

"Any pain?" she asked casually.

"A little, it's itchy," he admitted.

Jo nodded. "That's normal while the flesh heals, I would be more concerned if it wasn't itchy. We need to keep it clean and dry at the moment, but once it heals we can use a cream to keep it from itching."

He nodded. Jo pulled back the covers and undid the dressings on the round stumps just under both his knees. The wounds were still raw, but the stitches were healing well, and there was no sign of Gangrene, or other infections. She cleaned the wound with an alcohol solution, before covering the wound with fresh gauze and bandages. She gave the young soldier another smile before she packed up the used dressing and disposed of them in the bin along with her gloves. Then she moved to the next patient.

She spent the next hour handing out lunches, drinks and more medication before it was time for her own lunch break.

She walked into the nurses tea room with a sigh, taking off her apron and hat and laying them down on the table before she sat down and put her head in her hands.

When she signed up to work in the south ward she hadn't expected it to be this distressing. She hadn't realised how confronting it would be, or how much the broken look in the men's eyes would affect her.

The door opened and an older woman in a matron's outfit entered, she smiled at Jo and greeted the younger woman warmly. "Good Afternoon dear, you holding in there?"

"Barely," she whispered honestly.

The older nurse gave her a sympathetic look. "You aren't the first to falter after spending a day in the south ward," she said, "it will be easier."

"I hope so," Jo said sadly, "I don't think I could stand it if it didn't"

With a sigh she got up and made herself a cup of tea, adding sugar and then milk after she had let the tea leaves steep for a few minutes. She opened the fridge and took out the lunch she had packed that morning, before sitting down and enjoying the much needed break.

. . .

It was almost 5.00pm in the afternoon and her shift was coming to a close. She had one more round to do, giving more doses of medication and checking the dressings on the more serious wounds, barely an hour of work and then she could go home and enjoy the rest of the evening.

That was until the loud alarm sounded throughout the ward, signalling the arrival of the ambulances and more wounded men from the front line. In the process of cleaning up Jo threw down the last of the utensils that needed to be washed and raced out the door. She headed down the stairs, the two other nurses and the doctor in charge of the ward running down the stairs ahead of her.

When they got to the courtyard out the front of the hospital they found a few nurses and doctors from other wards read to help. All in all about a dozen staff helping to evacuate the wounded from the convoy of Ambulances.

A loud scream pierced the air, and Joanna noticed the blood collecting on the cobblestones.

A nurse stumbled past, helping a man with a bloody bandage over his face onto a stretcher. All around her men were being helped out of the ambulances, all of them covered in blood. None of them had been seen to at all.

"What is all this!?" yelled the doctor to one of the ambulance drivers. "Why have these men's wounds been left untreated?"

The ambulance driver turned around with a distressed look on his face. "There was an air raid on FH12, near the border. These are the ones we could save."

The doctor fell silent, his face paling. He nodded. "Fine, fine. Let's get them out and treated."

A nurse handed her some bandages. She climbed up into the back of the nearest ambulance and got to work, uncaring if she got blood and gore all over her uniform. She replaced bloody bandages, and administered morphine to those that needed it, before she helped them onto stretchers, and the orderlies carried them up into the ward.

Despite only being a junior nurse she took charge, she grabbed one of the other nurses, who was standing around looking horrified and yelled at her to start getting the men out of the trucks, and helped the doctors with the more serious wounds, keeping the men calm as their injuries were tended.

She finished wrapping a large bandage around the gushing wound to a soldier's upper thigh and turned towards the next patient.

She gasped in shock.

She knew him.

The doctor yelled at her to do something and she raced into action. Grabbing a roll of gauze and bandages and pressing it to the bloody gash across his forehead. His eyes were closed and he was unconscious. She couldn't ask him how he was, or what he had been doing in the two years since she had seen him. She looked him over, he was covered in bruises, it looked like one of his arms was broken too. She was worried sick, and her hands were shaking. She tried not to let the doctor see. She could do this.

But it was so much different when the patient in your care was your husband, and not some stranger you would never meet again.

. . .

London, 1939

It had been a long day full of emergency surgery and treatment but Joanna wouldn't have it any other way. She loved what she did, there was nothing more rewarding seeing the patients under her care starting to get better.

It was late when her shift finally ended. The sun was still up, but it was getting late. Cars drove slowly past heading home, there wasn't many pedestrians around at all. Her home was far, only a few blocks away. She walked quickly, and got home in no time. She headed up the stairs to the townhouse and unlocked the door. The house was dark, her sister and her husband were asleep upstairs. They were newlyweds, and only been married a few short months. He was back in London getting some supplies before heading back North to the base he was stationed at.

She closed the door quietly and put her bag and keys down by the door. She crept down the hall and into the living room, heading to the kitchen. She needed a cup of tea before she went to bed. She was just passing the couch when her knees hit something, she stumbled and half fell onto the couch. Landing on something that was decidedly not a couch.

"Ooof" a voice muttered softly as she landed on a pair of legs.

"Sorry," she whispered, struggling to get back on her feet.

A light at the top of the stairs came on and Jo jumped, startled. She looked down to find she was sprawled across the legs on an unknown man who had been asleep on her sister's couch.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry," she said in a rush as she jumped up, feeling embarrassed.

"Jo?" her sister called from the top of the stairs, "is that you?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I tripped."

"Ok, I'll leave the light on" Her sister Jane said before walking back upstairs.

Jo took a deep breath and looked down at the man she had fallen onto. He was staring up at her with an amused expression on his face. "Hi, I'm Dean."

"Joanna," she said with a smile.

"Can I call you Jo?"

"No," she said sternly, "Only my family and friends call me Jo, and you are neither."

He grinned. "Not even after you practically threw yourself at me?"

Jo spluttered, "I didn't throw myself at you, I fell," she said defensively.

"Of course you did," he said with a smug smirk.

Jo muttered under her breath and turned around with a huff. She walked to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and started making herself a cup of tea. She heard a creaking sound behind her and turned to look. Dean stood in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of pyjama pants and nothing else. She turned around quickly to hide her blushing cheeks. "Would you like one?" she asked.

"Yes, thankyou," Dean said. She hadn't noticed when he first spoke, but she realised he wasn't English like herself, he was American. The pair of dogtags around his neck were a little bit of a giveaway as to why he was here.

"You're a soldier?" she asked.

"He nodded. Yes ma'am. VIII Bomber Command."

"Are you stationed here in London?"

"No, High Wycombe, a couple of hundred clicks north. I'm on leave for 2 weeks, my sister got married – back home in Kansas, and the Brass allowed me to attend. I'll be heading back to base in a few more days."

"What are you doing here?"

"Your brother-in-law, Sam, he's a good friend. We met earlier in the year when I signed up for basic. He's a good bloke, most of the other officers don't talk to the grunts like me, but Sam, he talks to everyone."

Jo smiled. He was right about that. Sam could talk the ear off an Elephant. "But you're American? Why did you join the British army?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It seemed like the right thing to do. Can't be waiting for the President to say what's right and wrong. I don't know much, but I know that. I can't just sit back and wait for the war to reach home."

"Is it a big change from where you were before?" she asked, handing him the cup of tea. "I haven't added any sugar," she added. Indicating the sugar jar on the bench. He thanked her and spooned a heap teaspoon into his cup before giving it a good stir.

"Yeah. I'm a mechanic, used to fixing cars and the occasional plane. Now I fly em'." He took a deep breath. "We are going out on missions every few months, and sometimes my mates don't come back, that's tough."

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling it. "I know how hard it is too loose someone because of this war."

"You've lost someone?" he asked in surprise.

"I lose someone every day." She said. At his confused you she gave a sad smile and continued. "I'm a Nurse at St. Barts in the centre of London." She looked away. "I don't like it when I lose a patient."

He nodded and took a sip of tea, "Hum, this stuff ain't half bad."

She smiled. "Glad you approve," she said dryly.

They sat at the kitchen table in companionable silence. Jo took another sip of her tea and looked at him from under her lashes. Now that he wasn't being an arrogant arse she could see that he was actually pretty good looking. He had dark hair that was cut short, and bright green eyes. He was tall, and muscular. She kept having to remind herself that looking at his chest was rude.

She took another hasty drink and finished the rest of her tea. "Well," she said, "I best get up to bed." She stood up and took his empty mug. Rinsing them both in the sink before drying her hands on the dishcloth.

"Thank you for the tea Joanna," Dean said with a smile, walking back to the couch and settling down to go back to sleep.

"Call me Jo," she said as she turned off the kitchen light and headed for the stairs.

"Goodnight Jo," he called.

"Goodnight Dean." She answered, turning off the light at the top of the stairs and heading to her bedroom.

. . .

The next morning Jo woke up to the sound of raised voices downstairs. She got up and wrapped a robe around her nightdress before heading downstairs. She notices Dean and her sisters husband Sam arguing in the living room. "Why would you sign up for this?" Sam was saying, his eyes glaring down at the shorter man. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that this would be the best thing to do, that's what!"

"It's dangerous."

"I didn't join the Air Force because I thought It would be a walk in the park." He snapped, "I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Did you really?" Sam practically growled. "You're not in Kansas anymore Dean! We're at War, and signing up for this mission is the dumbest thing you've ever done."

"I can't just sit back and watch the rest of me mates go, we're in this together."

"It's suicide," Sam hissed between his teeth. "You know the odds of you getting shot down, transfer. Join the Army like me. I'll get you organizing supplies and tanks, keep you off the front line."

Dean shook his head. "I signed up to make a difference and that's what I'm going to do."

"Then you'll die," Sam said, "Is that what you want."

"You know what? I'm done talking to you, you will never understand. Not the big officer's boy who never had to do a day's work in his life." Dean snapped.

"Hey! That's unfair Dean," Sam grumbled, turning red with anger. "I'm just looking out…"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence. Dean turned around and walked out the door, slamming it behind him causing Jo to jump involuntary. Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Well, that could have been handled better," her sister Jane said from the top of the stairs.

Sam sighed. "Please, don't start Janie," he whispered before turning and heading out the door after Dean.

Jean finished walking the stairs, past her and into the kitchen. "Men!" she muttered.

"What on earth was that about?" Jo asked.

"This war has made everyone a little mad," he older sister said, grabbing a few mugs and starting to boil a cup of tea for them both. "They have known each other for a long time, Sam talks about his all the time. They are as close as brothers - do you want toast?"

"Toast will be great, thanks."

A half hour later, when she walked out the door heading for work she found Dean sitting on the front steps, cigarette in hand. She brushed past him, "I hope you return safe and well, I'll keep you in my prayers," she said, stepping onto the pavement.

She turned her head and smiled at him. He looked a little shocked, but a pleased grin lightened his features. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "That would make me very happy, thankyou."

. . .

Dean and his squad survived the mission, despite Sam thinking otherwise. They were the talk of the town, and put the allies at an advantage – at least for a little while.

It would be six months before Jo saw him again. Winter had set upon them and snow had begun to fall. It was Christmas Eve when Sam and Dean arrived on her sister's doorstep. Jane through her arms around her husband, who lifted her up into his arms and swung her around, hugging and kissing her tightly. Jo and Dean watched on, slightly awkwardly. Little smiles on their faces until they caught each other's eye. "It's nice to see my sister happy again," she said. Not knowing what else to say in front of this man she barely knew.

Dean grinned and nodded his head in agreement, "The big guy was getting all emotional and touchy. I almost found him another woman just to see him finally crack a joke."

Jo frowned at him. "You better not have, "she said.

"Relax," he said, a joking grin on his face. "I said 'almost."

He placed his duffle bag down by the door and they headed into the living room, leaving the other two in the hall, still engrossed in each others company.

The Christmas tree was standing in the corner, lights and baubles shimmering in the lamp light. A small stack of presents were under the tree. As Dean walked further into the house he could smell the sweet aroma of homemade pie.

"Dinner is almost ready," Jo said, walking into the kitchen. "It's nothing fancy, but it's our mum's recipe."

"It smells delicious, do you know how long it's been since I've had a decent meal?"

Jo looked over her shoulder, he did look a little thinner and worn out, the war was taking its toll. "Well, I hope you like it. Pies are one of my specialties."

They continued to talk for a little longer until Sam and Jane decide to join them. When dinner was served they all moved into the dining room and ate, the silence only broken occasionally as they enjoyed the meal.

Afterwards, as Sam and Jane had retired to their room, Jo and Dean sat in the lounge. They nursed glasses of brandy and talked quietly, the wireless playing a jaunty tune softly in the background.

"When I go back to base in a few days, I would like to write to you," Dean said in a rush.

Joanna looked around in shock, she hadn't been expecting that. He met her eyes calmly, and waited. She thought it over. He was funny and brave, and had a good head on his shoulders. He was good looking, and she was attracted to him, few woman wouldn't be.

He seemed to like her just as much as she was beginning to like him.

"Ok," she said with a smile. "I would like that very much."

The genuine smile that lit up his features at her honest words made her even more convinced that she had made the right decision. It changed his face completely. He looked happy again, and she knew he hadn't been happy in a long time.

"I look forward to it." He replied.

. . .