A year? A year. Jo was glad she was sitting down because even now, she felt like she might pass out. If she was missing a year... then what did that mean?
She frowned, working through the information available, trying to decipher what specifically he was asking her.
"Last thing I remember is resting my head on my mom's shoulder and feeling... feeling myself slipping away. God, I don't even remember if one of us pulled the trigger on that bomb. Please tell me we took those hell hounds down with us."
She looked up at Dean, hoping for some reassurance that the plan to take out that demon bitch's hell hounds hadn't gone awry.
"Then I think my life passed before my eyes. At least, some of the good parts of my life. Can't remember having to see anything bad over again. And then I woke up here."
She lifted up her shirt, just enough to show off the unblemished skin where the gouges from the hell hounds should have been.
"I should at least have a scar here," she said. "But I don't. As far as I can tell, I don't have scars anywhere I should."
For just a moment, she stared, drinking in the sight of him. If she'd really been gone a year, then she had a lot of time to make up for. She forced herself to crack a smile, feeling the need to at least try to lighten the mood.
"So. A year gone. Did I miss anything big? Are you still charming the pants off women all across the 48 continental states?"
Despite the tease, there was a fondness in her voice.