The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses

by kasey8473

Summary:

AU: As a god, Castiel does care for his subjects. He bestows gifts to those who are faithful and after considering Dean’s words, he decides to give Dean a gift to display his own benevolence.

Chapter 1

Castiel was pacing the room, looking it over. This was only one of many surprise visits in the first couple months of Castiel’s reign as a god.

Dean stood very still beneath his scrutiny. They were all walking a tightrope at present. It had been weeks now and he, Sam, and Bobby had only the barest idea on the full extent of Castiel’s powers. He had the angel powers, they did know that, and he had others that were manifesting. He showed no compunction about using them either, all hint of common sense gone. Dean’s own words about him being a child were chillingly true. He was a child with terrible power, ignoring everything Dean had ever tried to teach him.

Perhaps he was possessed by those things he’d taken in from Purgatory. Dean would feel better if that was the case, if Castiel was somehow possessed and being controlled, but he had a terrible suspicion that this was the new Castiel. He wasn’t possessed, he’d simply become corrupted like so many humans had over time.

The scariest part was that Castiel knew all of them well. He knew their habits and the places they favored. Whenever they arrived at Bobby’s, he wasn’t far behind, making it clear that he could still stand just out of sight watching them. Spying, though he wouldn’t call it that. Cas didn’t like that word. Spying. It made him angry and the childlike former angel with nuked up powers wasn’t a pretty sight when angry. Bad things tended to happen.

Castiel was always sorry after his temper exploded, fixing things, and telling them they shouldn’t have made him do those things he’d done.

How did they stop an abusive relationship when the abuser had god-like powers?

Clasping his hands behind his back, Castiel looked at him. “I’ve made a decision, Dean.”

It was too much to ask that he’d release the souls back into purgatory. He was intolerant of the idea and wasn’t going to give them up willingly. Cas liked how he felt with them there inside him. He liked the sort of power he now had. He was top on the totem pole and loving it. According to him, the remaining angels in heaven had bowed down to him and were doing whatever he told them to without question, carrying out his orders like they’d once carried out Michael’s.

Of course, he’d had to discipline them first, weed out the ones who’d been loyal to Raphael. Dean just assumed that meant Castiel had killed most of the angels. They’d also learned Balthazar was among the dead angels. Castiel had a lot to say about the ones he considered to have betrayed him.

“What would that be?” Dean kept his voice as neutral as possible. It hurt that Castiel’s presence brought back memories of the worst encounters he’d ever had with various beings, from Azazel’s manipulation, Zachariah’s self-righteous scheming, Michael’s cool attitude towards all things human, and the arrogance of the demigods. It was all there, wrapped up in a former ally. The end vision Zachariah had given him had come true in a way, for Castiel was far from his angelic beginning. His new self was worse than love-guru, orgy-holding human Cas. Dean would give almost anything for that version of Castiel now. At least that one he wouldn’t have to figure out how to kill.

It was no longer a case of if he had to kill Castiel. It was a certainty. It was a ‘when’. For the sake of the world, he had to rid it of Cas and the necessity of that clawed at him.

Castiel’s small smile was chilling, as was the smug tone he affected. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About what you’ve talked about losing. An entire family thus far. Mother, father, brother, lover, child. That is a family.” His head tilted slowly to one side, just like it used to when he hadn’t understood something.

A burst of utter wrongness worked through Dean. This should never have come to pass, but looking back, he couldn’t see any point where he or Sam could have changed this course. By the time Dean had returned to the game, Castiel had already been headed down this path, deep down it in fact. Dean could see it now in how he’d behaved. The road to hell was definitely paved with good intentions, though Castiel didn’t yet realize he was heading there, if he ever had at all. His good intentions had twisted him into…this.

It hurt to see the former innocent, righteous angel so far changed from what he’d been, a stark reminder that they were all changed for the worse by the time and events that had passed.

“You do still have Sam.” His head turned, gaze fixing upon Sam, voice slipping into boredom, then taunting. “You may try it, Sam. If you like. It won’t work.” He spread his arms and faced Sam. “Get it from your system. I’m like nothing you’ve faced, nothing that’s been faced. Your books will tell you nothing and even the full library of heaven would be of no use, but as I said, you’re welcome to try.”

He taunted Sam a lot and, when he was in a certain sort of mood, he’d poke Sam until he pushed him into what Bobby thought were psychotic breaks. When those breaks happened, Sam was lost in his memories, reacting while awake to things only he could see. Usually that was a bad thing and twice Dean had had to handcuff him to a pipe in a motel bathroom for his own safety and the safety of others.

Castiel called it ‘helping Sam work through the lingering issues’. Dean called it ‘messing with his brother in a way that guaranteed Castiel’s death at a later date’.

Sam slammed the book closed and looked away, lips tightening into a thin, angry line. He should be resting, but he kept insisting he had to do something. No way Dean could stop him from trying.

“Nothing to say? Are you certain?” When Sam didn’t move, he returned his attention to Dean. “You have Bobby. He’s like a father.”

Bobby wasn’t here right now. He took every opportunity he could to get away from Castiel and when Dean and Sam were there, it was almost a guarantee Castiel would follow. Dean hoped Bobby was having some luck with his sources, maybe finding out some sort of obscure information that might help them.

“What remains? What’s still missing for you? I’ve given this question much thought. You were unable to keep Lisa and Ben. They didn’t fit your life and never will.”

He wanted to tell him to never speak their names again, like he had Sam, the ache of losing them completely still festering. He remembered Lisa and Ben and they would never remember him again. With their memory of him erased, it was like losing over a year of himself, like it had never existed. No matter how it had ended, there should be something remaining and all there was were the memories he had. The words stuck in his throat. Castiel would allow no rebuke of himself, claiming that he now answered to no one because no one was higher than he was.

How had things gone so wrong? Was there any way out?

“I thought to myself ‘who would fit Dean’s life?’ It can’t be a civilian, obviously. The Lisa experiment proved that.”

Experiment? It had hardly been an experiment. He’d tried to retire. He’d tried. He curled his hands into fists.

“Your available pool of women is a bit lacking at present.” He paced again, steps slow. “Who would understand the sacrifices you make and the choices? Who would accept all that you are?” He looked at Dean from the corner of his eyes, a sly glance. “And it came to me, right from the blue, the thought popping into my head. I knew then exactly what I had to do for you. It was a clear thought, like a voice telling me what I needed to do.”

And did that voice answer him when he talked to it, Dean wondered. Was he beginning to hold conversations with that voice in his head? A sure sign of obvious madness…and one he was regrettably seeing from Sam. Castiel had ripped Sam’s mind wide open and refused to fix him, leaving him broken and, Dean hated to even think it, beginning to drown in the madness that action brought on.

Sam was drowning. Sam was broken. Sam was never going to be the same again.

Dean’s indrawn breath sounded choked to his own ears and he blinked quickly, his own sense of hopelessness increasing.

Where was the real God and why was he letting this happen? Was there ever a point where this would end?

Castiel stopped pacing and faced Dean. “You’re going to be happy, Dean. I guarantee it. I’ve made this decision for you because it’s the best thing for you.” He said that as though he really did know what was best.

The triumphant, pleased gleam in Castiel’s eyes sickened Dean and he swallowed hard, tasting bile. Why couldn’t this all just go away? Why couldn’t they have something good instead of crap, crap, and more crap piled on them in an unceasing shower of the stuff?

“I only want you happy.” Castiel snapped his fingers. Two figures appeared and Dean stumbled back against the table.

Ellen and Jo.

The sick taste in his mouth got worse. Was this a joke?

They were wearing the clothes they’d died in. Funny how he remembered that with such clarity. He remembered the shirt Ellen had worn, and the shirt and jacket Jo had on. He remembered the colors of the clothes, how the blood had soaked Jo’s shirt, and how he’d known in a single second that there was no way she was going to live from her wounds. He’d known and that day remained crystal clear in his mind, refusing to dull with time. Instead, it had only gotten clearer. Jo and Ellen were among the faces he saw in his nightmares.

Confusion, panic, and fear tread their faces, their mouths moving, and no sound emerging. Their bodies jerked and it occurred to him that Cas must be holding them still somehow.

He heard Sam gasp and his chair scrape back on the floor.

“Oh God, no,” Dean murmured, which prompted Castiel to put his arms around Jo and Ellen’s shoulders and smile. Castiel wasn’t supposed to smile and now he did easily.

“They’re for you. Aren’t you happy? You’ve wanted them back. You remember?” One hand touched Jo’s hair, the other slid down Ellen’s arm. “Titanic?”

The confusion on both women’s faces deepened.

“I remember. We,” he gestured to Sam, “remember. You wouldn’t let us forget.”

“I saw, Dean. You were happy with them alive, working the cause alongside you, so I’m giving them to you. I’m giving them back and I can make it so they stay as long as you want. They won’t die. I’ll keep it from happening for you. You see?” He glanced at Sam and slowly back at Dean. “I’m a benevolent god. I know you don’t believe that, but I am. Why would I give you this gift if I wasn’t? You won’t lose them ever again.”

Why would he give that gift? To control Dean somehow. To distract him. To add another threat on the table, the threat that he could take them away on a whim. This wasn’t about giving a gift, it was about control over Dean. “Cas, please. Not like this.”

“Then how? Tell me.” His tone was earnest, waiting for instruction. “I’ll fulfill it for you. Your reunion with them should be perfect. How can it be? Ask and you shall receive.”

He didn’t know what to say, how to diffuse this without Ellen and Jo being hurt again. They were alive, here, now. Castiel removing them would be killing them all over. Again. A third time. How could he think he was doing good? How could Dean live with himself if Castiel took them away now? If Cas took them away, it’d be directly on Dean’s head and that…. He felt a very real tight sensation in his chest.

Dread. Dean felt dread. He was responsible for them now, really responsible.

The crap just kept coming, didn’t it?

Cas squeezed Ellen’s arm. She flinched. “You have a mother figure back to balance Bobby. You need a mother. And….” Releasing Ellen, he grasped Jo’s arms and forced her forward, holding her up when she stumbled and shoving her close to Dean.

Neither woman made a sound. Jo’s chin trembled, her gaze bewildered and very frightened. She’d stopped trying to talk and when she tried to move, her body jerked, as though she was a puppet and Castiel held the strings.

“It really isn’t good for a man to be alone.” Castiel appeared breathless, reaching out, grabbing one of Dean’s hands and placing Jo’s against it. Cas closed both his hands around theirs. “Dean Winchester, I give this woman to you. Jo Harvelle, you’re meant for this man.”

Jo’s breaths were so fast he thought she might start hyperventilating. She glanced at Castiel like he was out of his mind -- which he was.

“You see? I know you both.” Castiel’s hands were cool, strangely cool, with an almost reptilian feel to his skin.

Dean’s skin felt like it was crawling under the touch. When he looked down, he half expected to see snake skin where human skin should be on Castiel’s hands.

“I know what’s best. You’ll take care of each other. She understands you, Dean.”

“Let her talk,” Sam said, moving a step closer. “Let them both talk and move.”

“Oh that.” He snapped his fingers again. Dean had never hated that gesture like he’d come to. “There. All fixed.”

Jo pulled free, retreating back away from them. “What the hell is going on here? No one gives me to anyone.”

“Cas?” Ellen remained standing where she was, watching, studying carefully.

In three long strides, Castiel was in front of Jo, grasping her jaw, his fingers digging in. She struggled, then abruptly stopped, making Dean think Castiel had rendered her unable to move again. “Who raised you, Jo?”

“You did,” she whispered in question.

“I did,” he confirmed. “I raised you for Dean. Do you understand me?”

“I guess.” There were questions in her eyes that she didn’t ask.

“You don’t and I admit I’ve been somewhat vague. Allow me to correct that. You’re Dean’s mate, Jo, raised for that purpose, to be the healing balm he needs after being out hunting. You will --”

“I’m not a whore.” She gritted out the words between clenched teeth and Dean had to admire the fire in her eyes even as he waited for whatever Castiel would do as a matter of discipline. “No one tells me who I have sex with.” Her cheeks were turning red, whether from her anger or from the embarrassment of having her mother hear all of this. “I decide --”

“And you’ll decide to do the duty you were raised to perform. You’ll give him comfort and be fruitful and multiply.”

Her look of disdain would have withered a human male. “I’m not a brood mare.”

“You are if I raise you to be one.”

“You can’t --”

He leaned down until it looked like his nose was touching hers. “I’m your god, Joanna Beth Harvelle. You will show me respect or you will be disciplined. Even God disciplined His subjects, until He decided to leave. Read the Bible for His ideas of punishment. I’m here to take His place. If you fear, respect, and love me, you’ll find yourself very blessed.” He leaned back. “Do you fear me?”

“Are you freakin’ kidding?” Her eyes opened wide, that disdain disappearing and the terror returning.

He released her jaw, fingers brushing her hair from her face with a touch that looked gentle. “Good. Do you love me?”

Her gaze darted to Sam, Ellen, then to Dean. He nodded, urging her to lie. She swallowed hard and looked straight up at Castiel. “Yes.”

His smile was amused, a frightening thing to see. Castiel amused was nearly as bad as him throwing a tantrum. “Liar, but you will love me soon. Once you realize what I’ve given you, the love will come. You’ll see how indebted you are to me. Obedience will be blessed. You’re here not as a hunter, but as the family Dean craves. You’ll give him a family. I think you’ll appreciate the change of pace once you accept your new role.” He took a few steps back and surveyed the room with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “I’ll leave you for awhile to become reacquainted.”

In seconds, they were alone. Maybe.

“Is he gone,” Ellen asked, dropping more than sitting on the couch.

“Off the deep end.” Jo snorted.

“Sshhh.” Sam held up both hands and joined her, his voice dropping. “We don’t know. We never know. So just….”

Ellen nodded.

“What happened to him,” Jo asked, putting the entire room between herself and Dean and crossing her arms. She looked uncomfortable, like she thought that he’d asked Castiel to bring her back.

“Power happened,” Sam said, sitting on the couch beside Ellen. “Raw power and we don’t know how to stop him.”

“He could explode,” Dean suggested, crossing his arms, “or he could manage to contain it all for longer than we have left alive. We just don’t know.”

“Or we could figure out how to make him start bleeding out that power.” Sam shrugged. “Problem with that is who knows what’ll come flying out of him when it does start to go.”

“Where did the power come from?” Ellen turned on the couch, adjusting her position.

“Purgatory. He took in every last monster’s soul there. That’s what’s powering the Cas battery these days. That and the tainted souls he got from Crowley.”

They related the entire tale to them, Dean stumbling a little verbally over Lisa and Ben and why Castiel had brought Jo back. In order for her to understand, he had to talk about them and when he was done, Sam took over, talking about his soulless self and the fact that his marbles were just as loose as Castiel’s at present, if not more so.

Dean noticed a flash of relief on Sam’s face when Ellen didn’t move away from him. Instead, she reached out and grasped his hand. He watched Jo, trying not to be too obvious. She moved restlessly about the room and it occurred to him that she and Ellen must be hungry. They hadn’t eaten in…years. “Hey, you hungry? We could order a pizza or go in to town and get something.”

Ellen started to get up. “I’ll see what Bobby’s got.”

“No.” Sam kept hold of her hand, tugging her back onto the couch. “You just got raised, Ellen. You don’t need to make anything. Let us take care of it.”

She let him draw her back down beside him. “Okay, Sam. You boys do the cooking.”

“What are you in the mood for,” Dean asked. He glanced up. Jo remained by the fireplace, her arms crossed and gaze on him. He recalled those days after they’d first met. She’d watched him there at the Roadhouse with interest in her eyes and later, her interest had been tempered with maturity. What he saw now was wariness. She looked at him like he was a stranger she didn’t really know and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

What was she thinking? Did she pity him for not being able to retire with a family? Feel sorry for him for having to cut Lisa and Ben loose? Or did she understand? Did she, as Castiel maintained, get him and how he had to be for the life he led?

The wondering made him uncomfortable and he was glad to leave the house and the tension that was rising as minutes passed.

~~~~~~~~~~

One moment Jo Harvelle was dead and the next she was alive, immobile and mute, being controlled by Castiel. The angel’s behavior bewildered her and she slowly understood that he’d been changed for the worse somehow. She remembered dying and being dead. He didn’t take that from her and, from the expression on her mom’s face, he hadn’t taken it from her either. Why had he left those memories?

She listened carefully to what was said, trying to put together the pieces and make some sense of what she was seeing. At first she was shocked by what she thought was happening. Then she grew angry with Castiel and, somewhat irrationally, with Dean. Jo knew it was irrational, as Dean was a friend, yet she couldn’t help the feeling.

The angel said Dean wanted them back. He’d brought them back from the dead for Dean and brought Jo back as….

She glanced at her mother and hated that Castiel laid out without one doubt that she was supposed to be Dean’s whore. Castiel didn’t say that word. He said it in other ways, but it all boiled down to one thing: she was supposed to have sex with Dean. That was the reason she was alive again, not because she was a hunter and the world needed hunters, but because she was a woman hunter Dean had known and been attracted to. She’d understand his life.

That was where the real anger began to grow.

No. Not going to happen. No one was going to tell her who to have sex with, even if it was an angel who had somehow become a god.

She found herself backing down however, suddenly terrified that Castiel would hurt her if she didn’t tell him she understood. She backed down because of what she saw in his eyes, or rather what she didn’t see. There was no compassion, no affection, or anything to indicate that he was the same Castiel she’d met. He was an alien creature that merely looked exactly like Castiel and had every single bit of his knowledge.

Was he possessed somehow? She couldn’t reconcile the angel she’d met with the creature before her.

The story Dean and Sam told after Castiel left didn’t shock her or surprise her like perhaps it should have. Without Sam, it didn’t surprise Jo that Dean had tried to leave hunting. What did surprise her was that he’d managed it for an entire year.

It was a relief when Dean and Sam left to buy food. Her mother got up and went into the kitchen. Jo curled up in one chair, wrapping a blanket around herself and closing her eyes. She heard glass clinking and liquid being poured. Who would have thought that being raised from the dead was tiring? She was exhausted, ready to lie down and go to sleep. Maybe the world would be different in the morning.

Something tapped her arm. “Here. I think we both need this.”

Opening her eyes, she found Ellen holding a glass out to her, a second one in her other hand. It was a regular drinking glass half full of amber liquid. She took it. A sniff told Jo it was Jack Daniels. “Mom?”

“Drink up, Jo.”

She took the glass and sipped. Warmth slid down her throat and curled in her belly. “I won’t do it.” She shook her head. “I won’t go to bed with him.”

Ellen sat on the arm of the chair and laid her free hand on Jo’s back. “You may not have a choice.”

“No. To be brought back for that? It’s insulting. I’m a hunter, I’m not….” Wet drops spilled onto her hands and she realized she was crying. “I’m not a slut. I don’t give it away.” She wiped at her cheeks with one hand and took a long drink.

“I know, baby.”

They sat in silence, drinking their drinks. Jo found it funny that, despite being dead for well over a year, she apparently still had her tolerance. “I can’t,” she repeated. “How can Castiel think I’d just roll over and let him decide my life?”

“I don’t think he particularly cares what any of us think and as he reminded you, he raised us.” Ellen moved, crouching down in front of Jo. She set her drink down and reached out, touching Jo’s cheeks with her fingers. “At least I get to see you alive again. My heart ripped outta my chest when you died beside me, Jo.” After a moment, she retrieved her drink and went to the couch, stretching out there. “You’re mad at Dean.”

“No, I --”

“Jo. You know he didn’t tell Cas to do this.”

“No, but he wanted us back and Cas did it. He wanted us back.”

“Don’t be mad at Dean for liking us enough to grieve our deaths and to miss us.”

She ran a finger along the rim of the glass. It was hard to explain why she was upset. Maybe if Dean hadn’t liked them as much, Castiel wouldn’t have brought them back into this world and brought her back to apparently be a throwback to the past. “I’m not a gift he can give to Dean.”

“Castiel thinks so. That’s basically what he did.” Ellen sighed. “Calm down, Jo. What do we need to do here? Think about it. I finished your training. Give me our actions.”

A tension headache throbbed in her temples and across her forehead. “Um… Assess the situation, find out everything possible before taking action.” She shook her head again. “What if Castiel demands I go off with Dean tonight?” If she’d thought her mother wasn’t bothered by the turn of events, she was wrong. Her glance showed Ellen trying to hide an uncomfortable frown and not succeeding.

“Then you go and…work with Dean to diffuse this somehow, come to some…arrangement between you.”

Jo bit her lip and set the remains of her drink aside. She probably shouldn’t drink the rest, not if she wanted to keep a clear head. “Arrangement,” she repeated.

“Whatever the two of you think is best for the situation.” Ellen hurried to drink, taking a gulp of the liquor.

She was afraid that she already knew what was going to be best, especially if Castiel’s presence was as pervasive as she suspected. Jo looked around the room. Little had changed except there were even more books piled around the rooms she’d seen so far. “Where do you think Bobby is?”

“Don’t know. Alive somewhere I suppose. I think they would’ve said if he wasn’t.”

Leaning her head back, Jo dozed until Dean and Sam returned.

Chapter 2

Dinner would have been fun if the circumstances weren’t hanging over their heads. As it was, it was a ton of awkward and Jo didn’t eat much, fleeing into the kitchen as soon as she was done eating. Her headache was increasing and she thought that the only cure was going to be sleep. She wanted to retreat into unconsciousness and pretend this was a dream. Sleep would be welcome.

She set her plate in the sink, then raised a hand and rubbed her fingers across her forehead in an attempt to ease that growing ache. Jo drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her emotions were all over the place, up, down, back, and forth, though there was one constant: fear. The weird burst of anger she’d felt at Dean had gone, leaving in its place a wondering about their relationship and how it was going to change by necessity.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Without turning, she knew it had to be Dean. Her mother was busy catching up with Sam and Sam seemed to enjoy having Ellen to talk to. Jo and Dean, however, had been making awkward glances at each other for two hours and making equally awkward small talk as they ignored the elephant in the room: the reason Castiel had brought her back from the dead.

They weren’t going to be able to ignore it for long. Night was falling and she thought Castiel might be coming back soon. He’d said he’d give them awhile to become reacquainted and she suspected he wouldn’t give them more then a few hours at most. So what were they to do? What sort of arrangement could they come to?

He moved to stand beside her. “I never asked him to do that, Jo. To raise you and Ellen. I never asked him to.” Dean’s voice was low and hesitant, like he was afraid to bring up the subject with her. Surreal. Dean hesitant? Seemed bizarre to her. He’d always appeared so confident in himself. Even his gaze had a hesitancy to it, almost like that from a puppy who’d been kicked too many times and was hoping for some gentleness while suspecting none was forthcoming.

Dear God, she thought. What else has happened to him that he hasn’t told me about?

Dean looked defeated and the idea that he’d been broken down that far saddened her.

“I know. I didn’t think that.” Lie. For a second, she had thought it. She’d thought it and been angry, while knowing he wouldn’t do that. Dean wasn’t like that, not with them. The only one he’d move heaven and earth to bring back was Sam -- and he had once. He’d made a deal and gone to hell so Sam could live.

They stood at the fridge, in almost the same position they had that night before Carthage. Jo leaned against the counter. Did he remember? Were the events of those two days burned into his mind like they were in hers?

“Yeah, you did,” he said with a weary half smile. “And I don’t blame you for it. I have a history and Castiel…. It’s no secret I’ve tried to get him to do things before, like heal Bobby from the chair.” He looked down at the floor and shrugged. “I wouldn’t ever have asked for you to be pulled from your rest. You should have been able to enjoy it and not have to be brought back here. You were in heaven, right?” Another hesitant cast to his words and he glanced back up at her with the question.

“I think so. I remember being at total peace. I guess that means heaven.” It was fading a little now, the memories sliding back beneath the press of the present. She glanced into the other room. Her mother was grasping Sam’s hand, smiling at him. Jo lowered her voice a fraction “I can’t be what he brought me back to be, Dean. You know that, right? I’m a hunter. It’s what I am, what I died as, and what I’ll always be. I can’t -- ”

“He’ll kill you. I can’t see that a third time. Once was bad enough, twice was gutting, and a third time…. ”

“Twice? Third?” What did he mean by that? “I only remember once.”

He leaned against the counter as well. “The second was an alternate timeline created when Balthazar unsunk the Titanic.”

“Balthazar is an angel, right?”

“Was. Castiel killed him. He’s killed quite a few of the angels.”

“He unsunk the Titanic? Why?”

“He did. Castiel needed souls.” Dean frowned, fingers tapping on the kitchen counter. “Did we mention that earlier? Souls can increase an angel’s battery?”

“I think you did mention it. You didn’t mention the Titanic, but you did mention souls.”

His nod was slow. “The Titanic not sinking gave us a couple other hunters who took you and Ellen’s place in Carthage, meaning you were alive still. Ellen and Bobby were married and Ellen had us all organized. You were heading a team of your own and you were alive, Jo. You were so…strong. Then he took you and Ellen away and didn’t let us forget it. So, him taking you again would be three by my count.” He turned to face the cupboards, voice lowering further. She saw him carefully keep his attention on the cupboards. “The Castiel who was our ally is gone, Sam is hanging on by a thread, I’ve lost an entire year of my life, and if I have to lose you and Ellen again I think I might just start howling and never stop. Not much more I can take…and Castiel knows it. He knows just what buttons to push and how long to push them.”

He was hanging by a thread just as much as Sam she realized, and Jo also turned to face the cupboards. “You have a plan for us,” she asked in a whisper. “Some way to cope….” She didn’t finish the last question. Sam had said they never knew when Castiel was hanging around and it was possible he was still here, listening to their words.

“I want you alive. I can’t be the cause of you dying again, Jo.” He turned his head to look at her. She’d never seen such raw emotion in his eyes and she’d seen many variants of emotion from him. The emotion was almost like tears welling up there. He was an open, raw nerve right now and it almost hurt to see him like this. He was a far cry from the Dean she remembered. Time and trials had shaped him into a different man and Jo wanted to find out the details of those trials. She wanted to hold him and soothe some of that pain. “We do what we have to -- whatever that ends up being.”

Reaching out, Jo touched his hand, covering it with hers for only a couple seconds, enough to show him she didn’t blame him for Castiel raising her from the dead. She nodded. “We’ll work it out.”

He let out a long, slow breath. “I know.”

“We’ll be okay.”

A chuckle left him. “You really believe that?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe if I say it enough I will. I’ve been dead. Can only go up from there, right?”

“Yeah, well…. Live in this world Castiel brought you back to awhile before you start thinking anything will ever be okay again.”

The pronouncement, said in a sepulchral tone, reminded Jo that there were still a ton of things she didn’t know about the current world, but that was for another day. Maybe tomorrow. It was time to go to bed and maybe by morning she’d be able to think clearly, without her temples throbbing with pain that could become a migraine if not taken care of. She felt jittery, nervous, and very scared, but how much of that was an after-effect from being raised? “I’m going up to bed. Being raised from the dead is sort of tiring.”

“Been there. I remember the feeling.” He jerked his head towards the doorway. “Go on. Get some rest. I’ll be up in a bit.”

She paused after two steps, not sure which room to go to. “Which bedroom?”

“I guess we’ll take the one with the most furniture -- if that’s okay with you?”

“It’s fine.” It was the former master bedroom, the one Bobby no longer slept in. He hadn’t slept in there in years. Too many memories of his wife, Jo thought. She wondered what Bobby was going to say when he returned home.

Jo passed by her mother and Sam, the two sitting on the couch together talking quietly, and headed up the stairs. She found pain pills and took them, then searched for a toothbrush. In a drawer, there were new toothbrushes and she grabbed and opened one package.

Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye. She was very pale, with lines of strain by her eyes and mouth. Slowly, Jo raised the hem of her shirt, looking at her side for some sign of the wounds that had killed her, but there were no scars visible, not even thin lines to mark the spot. Dropping the hem, she reached for the toothpaste.

Like it or not, she was alive again and there were plans to make and execute.

But first, sleep. Perhaps when she woke she’d feel more like herself again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean remained standing where he’d talked with Jo, leaning against the counter and thinking about Castiel’s directive and what they could do about it that wouldn’t hurt Jo or Ellen. He was feeling numb again and a little detached, probably not the best state in which to decide how to deal with this. The numbness made it difficult to think and he wondered if maybe Jo had the right idea about going to bed.

Not that he was sleeping much anymore. He’d developed insomnia again, spending more hours awake than asleep, Watching over Sam and thinking about everything that had happened. Obsessing about things was the phrase Sam used to describe Dean’s nocturnal ruminations. He obsessed about those things he couldn’t have changed. When he did sleep, it was from sheer exhaustion, his body demanding rest.

He understood the anger Jo wasn’t admitting she’d had. If she’d been happy in heaven and at peace there, though the heaven he’d seen had been as bad as hell in some ways, being drawn back could cause anger. That total peace she’d described versus being back in this crap storm? The anger was understandable in that case.

Both she and Ellen were both a tiny bit off from what he’d observed so far and he hoped it was a temporary thing and not a problem with how Castiel had put them back together. After all, they’d learned it was him who’d raised Sam without his soul -- a major problem in Dean’s book. How had Castiel missed that or had he missed it? Had he noticed and just not cared? Might be Castiel had missed something when bringing them back, too, though he hoped that wasn’t the case, that they’d wake in the morning and be themselves completely. He wanted them to be fine. He didn’t want to spend weeks thinking about differences in them like he had with Sam.

Had he himself been different the first couple days after being raised from hell? Bobby could tell him. Sam, too, though perhaps not. He’d been distracted with covering up his involvement with Ruby right then. Dean contemplated going in and asking Sam right now if he’d noticed a difference, but a glance into that room showed him deep in conversation with Ellen, their heads close as they talked. What were they talking about? Their voices were too low for him to hear any of their conversation.

Castiel appeared beside him.

It would have been more convenient if Castiel had left them alone all night, but when did Cas do what was convenient for them?

No, he thought. I can’t tap dance for him again today. I can’t do this.

He would however. That was the bitch of it. He’d do that dance because he was honestly afraid of what Castiel might do if he didn’t toe the line.

Castiel studied him with a puzzled frown for a long moment before asking, “Do you not like my present, Dean?”

“Course I do.” He raised a hand, rubbed it along the back of his neck, kneading the muscles a little. “Having them back is…is great.”

“But you haven’t unwrapped the main gift.” He snapped his fingers and Jo appeared, in the middle of brushing her teeth.

She coughed and spit toothpaste into the kitchen sink. “What the hell?” She ran some water, cupped a hand, rinsed, and spit.

“You are planning to unwrap her?” The puzzled frown deepened. “I thought you’d have her upstairs rather quickly. I know it’s been awhile for you. Your last encounter with Lisa was months ago.”

“It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” he insisted, hoping that Castiel would leave it right there and knowing he wouldn’t. He was going to push this until what he thought should be happening happened. Castiel still had that angelic incomprehension about free will. Strange, since Castiel had used free will and gone against his conditioning. He should have an understanding and didn’t. Just because he wanted something to happen and thought it should, didn’t mean the humans he knew would go about things his way. “Jo’s been dead. There’s more than a little catching up to do. And there has to be some emotional connection --”

“Excuses.” Castiel shook his head slowly. “In your past you’ve met women and had them in your motel room within an hour. Whatever emotional connection you forged with them you already have with Jo. You’ve had a deeper connection than that and I gave you over three hours to become reacquainted.” He sounded confused now. “Therefore, I must conclude it’s not you who is reluctant.” His eyes narrowed. “I could make her compliant for you, change her mind?”

“Change my…. I’m standing right here,” Jo said, slamming her toothbrush down onto the counter in a show of exasperation. A red flush darkened her cheekbones. “As for being compliant --”

Dean stepped slightly in front of Jo, as if he could shield her from whatever Castiel might do. He held up his hands, palms facing Castiel. “No, Cas, don’t. Please don’t do that. Don’t change one thing about Jo. I like her as is. You used to like her, too. I remember that.”

“I still do like her. I like her and Ellen both.” He said it like that fact should be evident. Castiel’s gaze slid to Jo and back to Dean. “Very well. If her…demeanor pleases you, I’ll not change it. If you change your mind, just say the word. How much longer do you require to reacquaint yourselves? From past talks we’ve had I believe your physical need is likely great at present.”

Jo cleared her throat. “His need? How about you talk to me, Castiel? What about my wants here? Don’t they mean anything?” Jo’s voice was sharp, but low. “I don’t have casual sex and I’m not starting now. What part of that do you not get?” Her hands were on Dean’s back, pushing at him, trying to make him get out of her way. “It’s not who I am and Dean knows that. If you’re all powerful you’d know that about me.”

A ripple of anger crossed Castiel’s face and Dean felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Even after what he and Sam had explained, she still didn’t understand, did she? Had he and Sam not explained the consequences of angering Castiel well enough? They hadn’t, had they? She didn’t realize what could happen.

This was going to escalate and he had to diffuse it somehow.

“I believe,” with one hand, Cas shoved Dean aside, “I made it clear that this isn’t casual for either of you. I raised you specifically for Dean. You’ll comply or you and your mother will be returned to the dust from where I retrieved you.”

Seeing Jo open her mouth to retort and the ugly gleam in Castiel’s eyes growing, Dean grabbed Jo and yanked her against him, pressing her head to his chest. She struggled, voice muffled against his chest, and he held her tighter, forcing himself to smile at Castiel. “Later tonight, Cas. I promise. We just need some more time to get to know each other again. We’re all tired, it’s been an emotional couple hours.”

His eyes narrowed once more. There was a marked difference between a calm Castiel and an angry one, like there were two different people…things…inside there. Normal Cas and demonic, corrupted, evil Cas. A part of Dean thought that assessment supported his idea that Castiel was possessed by the monster souls from Purgatory, while another part insisted he was mistaken. This was simply the new Castiel, one who didn’t even try to reign in those emotions he was feeling. “She should be grateful. I’ve given her a second chance at life, her and Ellen both.”

“She is grateful,” he hurried to say. “You know she is. She and Ellen. They’re grateful and probably a little overwhelmed right now, so just back the hell off. Please? Okay?” He hated this feeling of teetering on the edge of an abyss on a flimsy board because he knew that, one of these days, either the board was going to break or he was going to misbalance and fall into it anyway.

Castiel touched Jo’s hair, slid his fingers through the length. “It’ll be fine, Jo. Trust me. You wanted this. I can see it. It’s there in your mind. You dreamed of having Dean as yours.” That hand raised, rested a moment on the top of her head. “I know how to ease your mind.” He smiled gently. “You’re husband and wife now. I decree it. See? I told you this isn’t casual. You’re a wife now. There. It’s all better.” He turned his pleased stare to Dean. “Take your wife up to bed before she says something she might regret later.”

Dean did as Castiel said, not only because of what Castiel might do, but also because of what Jo might say if he didn’t get her out of there. He hurried her past Ellen and Sam, not slowing down to see if either of them had heard what Castiel had ordered, and when they were in the most furnished of the extra bedrooms, he released her.

“Are you insane, Jo? Talking back to him like that?”

Her chin quivered and he realized she’d started shaking. “What the hell is his damage?”

“We told you what happened. Absolute power. He took it all in and it corrupted him.”

“But how did he get to that point? You didn’t tell us that. He was fine when mom and I last saw him. Losing powers, yeah, but he was fine, he was normal. Normal for him I guess. How did he get from that to this…monster?”

Dean leaned against the door, realizing that in their talk earlier, he and Sam had skipped over Castiel as much as possible. They’d focused on what had happened to them. “Something happened to him after he was raised that last time, something to do with the angelic civil war. I don’t know. I wasn’t in the loop for much of it. Raphael had his greedy hands on heaven and wasn’t letting go and he hated Castiel. I think Cas started out trying to do the right thing and it snowballed the other direction, twisting him. Maybe. Don’t really know and don’t really care anymore. He broke Sam and won’t fix him. That sort of ends any friendship we had or could have. It’s not a thing I can forgive. You don’t break my brother and expect to go out for beers a few weeks later.” Exactly what Castiel seemed to think could happen. He appeared to expect things to go back to how they’d been.

“Can he fix Sam?”

“He says he can, but he won’t. Claims Sam betrayed him. He’s just changed, Jo. Does it matter how it happened?”

She sat on the bed. “I’ve never been this terrified, even when I was dying.” Jo held up her hands, watched the shaking, then closed them tightly into fists and lowered them to her lap.

She hadn’t looked terrified to him when she’d been facing off against Castiel downstairs. She’d looked full of fight and ready to defend herself. He’d been like that once and that time seemed so very far away. He wondered if he’d ever be like that again and turned away. When was the last time he’d been like that?

Dean tried to keep busy across the room, looking through the drawers, trying to find the clothes Bobby had once said Jo and Ellen had left behind. He’d been surprised to find out that Ellen and Jo had kept a few changes of clothes at the house. Bobby had left the clothes where they’d been, out of sight, out of mind. “You’ll get used to it after awhile. Sam, Bobby, and I have. The fear sort of levels out, terror mixes with adrenaline, and it becomes a natural state.”

“I just…. Seeing him like that.” Jo shook her head. “Such a total change, from holy being to corrupt monster.”

“Don’t say you pity him. Pisses him off and you don’t want him pissed. Trust me. He can pull things out of him and throw them at us like it’s nothing. The last time he threw a tantrum, Dayton, Ohio was nearly wiped out by a couple freak weather systems and some creature we haven’t even been able to identify yet. We lost six hunters trying to kill the thing. I don’t know if he created it, pulled it out of him, or brought it out of hibernation. I think it was sheer dumb luck we hit on a combination of things that got rid of it.”

It wasn’t lost on Dean that there were shades of Lucifer in what Castiel had become. He’d fallen much like Lucifer had and his tantrums were just as bad as Lucifer’s actions when he’d been on earth.

“He’s a threat.”

“One we don’t know how to stop or even neutralize.”

Jo was quiet a long moment, then asked, “he can’t seriously expect us to ‘be fruitful and multiply’? Him declaring we’re married doesn’t make it so. I’m not having babies because he thinks you need a family. He can’t make me do that.”

“He’s totally serious and I can’t guarantee he can’t make you. I think he was serious about giving you a change in attitude, Jo. We really don’t know the full extent of his powers now. Might be he can turn you into Susie Homemaker in a snap.”

“Well, that’s just great,” she muttered under her breath.

“Or maybe he’s bluffing. Can’t tell anymore. Used to be he couldn’t lie for shit and now he’s a pro.”

Maybe that was one thing he could have changed. After all, he’d been the one to first encourage Castiel to lie. He’d told him “when humans want some really bad, they lie”. Castiel had taken that lesson, applied it to himself, and later used it to lie to everyone around him and perhaps even himself.

He found Jo’s clothes, items he remembered having seen on her, shoved in the bottom drawer, and brought them to the bed for her to look through. “Everything he did, he did for me, saved me, he only wants me happy, and will do whatever he thinks will make me happy. Keeps saying those things. I think he believes it. He went from saying I was insignificant and not worth his time right after taking in all the souls to changing his tune and wanting to be friends again after people started worshiping him.”

“Worshiping?” Jo set a hand on the clothing pile, staring up at him with lips parted and a disbelieving gleam to her eyes. “You mean --”

“He’s got a church now. The Church of Castiel.” He half laughed. “You should see the ads on tv. Probably will if you watch anything. The ads are everywhere. A lot of young women talking about how unexpectedly sexy God is and saying they’ll do anything for him, meaning Castiel. He eats it up like the pagan gods and their tributes.”

“He’s not…eating people like them though, is he?”

“No. At least not that I’m aware of. He’s enjoying the adoration of the masses, keeps trying to add me to that number. Honestly, I think you’re supposed to be a distraction, keep me from insurrection against his god-ness. I think there’s something out there that’ll hurt him, maybe even kill him, and he wants me distracted so I can’t find it. That’s his goal lately, to keep me distracted.”

She shoved the clothes aside without really glancing at them. “Don’t worry about me, Dean. I’m a grown woman.”

He slid his hands in his jeans pockets. “Can’t not worry. Whatever happens to you and Ellen is really on my head now. He made sure of that.” He couldn’t help the bitter cast to the words. Castiel had known just how to distract him. First Sam, then this. Both would keep him busy for months. While he and Sam had been hunting, it was far harder since Sam might start hallucinating any second. “He broke Sam to distract me and now he’s added you two to --”

“Don’t feel responsible for us. We’re Castiel’s problem. He’s the one who made the decision, not you.”

“Yeah, well, I do feel responsible. I’m not good for your life, Jo. I got you killed and there’s a pretty good bet I’ll get you killed this time, too.”

“Got me --” She shook her head, eyes widening. “No. You didn’t get me killed. You asked us to go with you on a job and we went of our own free will. I turned and started back to you instead of running on. That was my decision. My decision is what got me killed.”

He didn’t quite believe her, yet she was insistent.

“It wasn’t anything you did. You didn’t ask me to come back for you, or order me to. I went because I wanted to help you if I could. We were a team that day and teammates have each other’s backs. I knew the risks. I learned all about the risks long before that day.”

He eased to sit on the end of the bed, not answering, considering her words.

“You’re not responsible for me even now, Dean. Him bringing us back doesn’t make you responsible for us. Mom and I can make our own decisions. You are responsible for yourself, not us.”

“You don’t understand.”

The bed shook as she crawled closer. “I understand plenty. I understand that you’ve got this sense of responsibility for every person around you and that’s not a new issue, but you can’t take the blame for things that were never yours to take blame for. My death, Dean, was my fault. Mine. I chose to come back after you and you are not responsible. Do you hear me? Should I keep saying it? I don’t hold you responsible and if I died again tomorrow, it wouldn’t be on you then either.”

A part of him began to hope that maybe, just maybe, it was truth.

“So put those thoughts out of your head and let’s move forward, okay?”

If Jo didn’t blame him, perhaps Ellen didn’t either.

A tiny bit of tension slipped from his shoulders. “You don’t blame me at all?”

“Not the slightest.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. She was serious. She really didn’t blame him. It was there in her eyes. “You’re positive?”

“Yes. My actions, my death, my fault. Not yours and mom chose to stay with me. Her decision, not yours.”

The guilt he’d been feeling over Jo and Ellen’s deaths began to slip away. It was hard to let it go. It had been a part of him for years now and releasing it brought on a wave of exhaustion that had him smothering a yawn. Maybe he’d be able to sleep tonight after all.

Jo settled back on the mattress. “I ask you something about Castiel?”

“Go ahead.”

“Would he kill you? I mean, if he got mad enough.”

“Over and over, then bring me back over and over, try to make me worship him. He wants to be worshipped. He’s the new God he says. He hasn’t done it to me so far, but I don’t doubt he would if he got the notion. Then he’d claim he saved me. Already does claim that. Says he saved me from hell. Technically true.”

She finally stopped shivering and began rifling through the clothes Dean had found. He could see her hands were still shaking. “How do we deal with his…order?”

Exactly what he’d been trying to figure out. “I don’t think he’ll breech the bedroom boundary, though I can’t be sure he won’t.” The impression he’d gotten earlier was that Castiel trusted Dean to follow his orders. “He’s unpredictable now. Used to be he had some sense. That’s all gone these days. I think we need to behave outside this room like we’re hot and heavy, make him think we’re following his little script. Can you sell it?”

Jo stopped looking through the clothes, gathering them up and moving them to the chair in the corner. “I don’t have a choice. I have to or he’ll kill me and mom both. I died once. It’s not an experience I want to repeat anytime soon.”

“None of us intend to.” Maybe Castiel was standing there listening and there’d be consequences in the morning. Maybe he was really giving them privacy. And maybe they weren’t completely up shit creek without a paddle yet.

She turned to face him, hands coming to rest on her hips. “What if he does pop in here in the room?”

“We sleep in our underwear?”

“I guess that’s the logical thing.” Jo nodded.

“Got a side of the bed you prefer?”

“I don’t care. Whichever one you don’t want.”

Dean studied her. She looked as exhausted as he felt. “Look, I promise you, I won’t touch you ever…unless you one hundred percent want me to.” He didn’t think he’d be wanting to touch any woman for awhile yet. Not after Lisa being hurt. The wounds from what had happened there were still too deep to contemplate another woman.

“Sure.”

It sounded like she didn’t believe him and he peered at her a bit more closely, trying to discern if she really thought that about him. “You do know that I’m not that guy, Jo, the one who --”

“I know. I don’t think that.” She smothered a yawn with one hand. “We should sleep. Talk more tomorrow.”

“I’ll take the side by the door.” Meaning, in theory, that anyone or thing coming in would have to get by him first. It wasn’t much, but he could pretend he was protecting her.

He could pretend he was still the man he’d once been.

Chapter 3

She’d dreamed of having Dean as hers.

Those were Castiel’s words and while there was truth to them, that entire truth was that that yearning was years earlier. At that point, she had wanted him and daydreamed about him more than a little. Time had given her the maturity to see that she’d just had one massive crush on Dean and her dream was a silly, immature thing because happily ever after wasn’t in any of their cards. Their life was hard, cruel, and thankless. She’d decided that if she was lucky, she’d find a hunter who’d partner with her (something like a steady relationship) until one of them got killed. No real thought of happily ever after at all, merely happiness of a sort while the time was there.

Castiel had decreed Dean that partner, only without the part about her doing any hunting.

Jo undressed while Dean went downstairs to get his bag and then to the bathroom to brush his teeth. She slid beneath the covers, drawing those covers up high over her shoulder and turning her back to the door. She hated that Castiel had put them in this position and if he thought that declaring them married changed anything or made that state a truth, he was deluding himself. A sexual relationship and marriage was their decision to make, not his.

Dean returned. She heard the thump of something on the floor, maybe his bag or maybe him taking off his boots, and then the rustling of cloth. Finally, the lights went out and the other side of the bed dipped with Dean’s weight. “Good night, Jo.”

“Good night.”

She hadn’t meant it to sound like she thought he’d jump her in the middle of the night, but he’d taken her single word and tone that way. How messed up was that? Was his self-esteem that low that he assumed people thought the worst of him? She knew he wasn’t that guy. He should know she didn’t think that.

With a sigh, she adjusted position slightly. The pain killer was beginning to make a dent in her headache and Jo closed her eyes, trying to relax and let sleep take her. She took slow breaths, but sleep wasn’t as fast arriving as she’d thought it’d be. Her mind kept returning to that look in Castiel’s eye when he’d gripped her chin and told her he was her god. Dean was right. The Castiel who’d been their ally was gone and she didn’t really want to contemplate what Castiel having god-like powers meant for them all.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Dean, she rolled onto her back. Dim light filtered in from a crack between the boards on the outside of the windows. The house was quiet and still and slowly, Jo drifted to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Bossy, nosy creature, isn’t he?”

For the most part, Sam was able to tune out Lucifer’s commentary as he talked with Ellen and did his best to put both her and Jo at ease, but sometimes, the words just caught his attention. Like now. Lucifer’s assessment of Castiel meshed with Sam’s own opinion. Castiel was being bossy and nosy, not to mention creepy and arrogant. These days, it seemed those things were all he knew to do.

Lucifer leaned against the doorway into the kitchen, watching whatever was going on there between Dean, Jo, and Castiel. “Why is he so concerned with Dean’s happiness, yet misses the mark completely on what could make him happy? This is such an easy thing to figure out, but…. Not very observant, is he?”

“What do you think is going on in there,” Ellen asked.

“Not sure,” Sam replied. Whatever it was, neither Dean nor Jo seemed happy about it.

What would make Dean happy, or happier than he was rather, was for Castiel to fix Sam’s mind. That’d make Sam happy, too, and that was probably why Castiel refused. He kept claiming Sam had betrayed him and that stabbing him in the back was the last straw. What did Castiel consider the rest of the straws then? Why did he think Sam had betrayed him at all? For trying to stop him at that point? Sort of a no-brainer because Castiel had been an immediate threat. Was it merely because he hadn’t remained horizontal with his mind completely scrambled? Or was it that he hadn’t come back intact when Castiel had raised him? Could that even be counted as some sort of betrayal when it hadn’t been Sam’s fault at all? Were there other reasons that Castiel, in his current madness, counted that weren’t real at all, but perceived?

Sam had thought they were close to being friends. He’d thought that all the times he’d made conversation with Cas had been something. Not the profound bond Cas had claimed he had with Dean, but something anyway. A fledgling friendship.

With a sigh, Lucifer sauntered to the desk and sank into the chair, putting his feet up right on the research Sam had been doing. At least a hallucination couldn’t get the papers there all muddy. “And there they go.”

Dean and Jo rushed past them, to the stairs and up them. Sam glanced back into the kitchen. Castiel disappeared.

“The happy couple.”

Returning his attention to Ellen, he saw her frowning in the direction of the stairs. “You feeling okay, Ellen?” Sam tightened his fingers around hers. All the while they’d talked, he’d noticed that she paused more than normal, like she was having to really think hard about her answers or what he’d said.

She started to smile and nod like she was okay, then let the smile drop away and shook her head. “Aww, hell. No. I can’t seem to really concentrate, Sam. I’m sorry. I just don’t feel right at all. Maybe it’s just being alive again.” She tugged her hand from his and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m tired, but I don’t want to go to bed. Does that make any sense?”

“Poor thing,” came Lucifer’s bored voice from the direction of the desk. “Castiel must have botched them up like he did you. Not that they’re soulless. They’ve got that piece of humanity inside them. It’s obvious. There are other ways to mess up a raising, however.” He snorted. “There’s a reason some angels were merely foot soldiers, if you get my meaning.”

Lucifer meant that Castiel was incompetent and always had been.

I don’t know that, he thought. I don’t know that some angels are slower mentally.

“Ahh, but you’ve suspected it, haven’t you? How slow he was to grasp human concepts. Practice makes perfect, even for the dim-witted. Maybe he should try to raise daddy or mommy next. See if he can get it completely right. What do you think, Sam? Maybe after that he can put Jess back together for you.”

The hallucinations of Lucifer (and other things) made Sam afraid for the safety of everyone around him. He didn’t even drive because he might hallucinate behind the wheel. He’d thought he and Dean had managed to beat them down. Dean had confronted him in the middle of one hallucination not long after he’d admitted having them and they’d seemed to stop. Then, one evening when they were on a job and Dean was out, Castiel had blown that little bit of protection away. He’d stepped right over to Sam, touched his forehead, and taken away that relief from madness. The hallucinations had returned and he’d returned to using pain to short-circuit them.

At least, he thought it was Castiel. It was entirely possible he’d hallucinated that part and his mind had just rebelled.

“Oh please.” Lucifer waved a hand. “It was Cas. Castiel wants you broken. You’re no threat to him this way and neither is Dean.” He heard footsteps and saw Lucifer stroll to one chair closer to them and sit. “But you know that, don’t you? Every time either of you starts to make progress on something that could lead to finding out how to deal with him, he throws a wrench in it.”

Between the tantrums and now this, Lucifer was right. Castiel was trying to keep them from doing anything against him.

“This is certainly an interesting turn of events,” his hallucination said in a conversational tone, indicating Ellen with one hand.

Sam looked away, trying to focus on Ellen.

“Why don’t we take a look at that hand now,” she suggested. She’d been wanting to look at it since she’d noticed it earlier and he’d promised to let her.

He held out his hand for her to unwrap the bandage he kept on it. She was gentle and careful. The constantly infected wound that wasn’t healing like it should bothered Dean and Bobby, but Sam hadn’t told them he’d been picking at it with each hallucination. He didn’t admit he was the one impeding progress.

Ellen hissed. “Damn, Sam. You should see a real doctor about this. How long’s it looked like this?” She prodded the raw edges he’d managed to tear open again.

“How long has Castiel been God?”

“This isn’t good. How many times have these stitches been broken?”

He snatched his hand back. “It’s healing. It’s just slow.”

Her brows rose. “Denial ain’t a river in Egypt, you know. You’ve got some bad infection growing. You change the bandage every day?”

“Yes. I know how to care for a wound, Ellen.” Quickly, he wrapped it back up and secured the bandage.

“Obviously you don’t because it won’t heal if you pick at it. That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? Does Dean know?”

“No.” Sam shook his head and sat back. “And he’s not gonna. He’s got enough on his plate without him thinking I’m gonna start cutting myself or something.” He’d think it, too. He’d run down a mental list of things Sam might do to keep up the pain level and wonder about each one.

“Are you?” She tilted her head to one side, gaze curious.

“No. There’s a difference between this and that.”

“I agree. So why are you messing with your wound?”

“It sometimes helps get rid of the hallucinations,” he admitted, watching her closely to see her reaction.

No censure slid into her gaze and she nodded. “I’ve heard of that, of people doing that, but if you keep picking at that wound and it doesn’t heal, you’ll lose the hand. The infection will spread and eventually get gangrenous, if it’s not mostly there already. After that, you’ll need an amputation. You want that?”

He didn’t answer because he thought the answer was obvious. Of course he didn’t want to lose his hand. She was right, though, and he’d known it in the back of his mind. But if he couldn’t use pain to stop the hallucinations, then what did he use?

Lucifer, ever one to hate being ignored, cleared his throat. “Think Dean and Jo are boinking up there yet? It’s human nature to get it on in high stress situations, isn’t it? Something about the affirmation of being alive.”

He swallowed hard and when a text came in on his phone, he grasped at that answer to his earlier query. “Ellen, I need to make a run to town. Come with and drive me?”

“Sure. Let’s go. I could use some fresh air.”

“Don’t ignore me, Sam,” Lucifer warned. “You never like the consequences when you do.”

When Ellen had gone to get a jacket, Sam hissed, “Go away! Leave me alone!”

“You say something, sweetie,” Ellen asked, coming back in the room, now wearing one of Bobby’s jackets.

“I was just….” He shrugged.

She arched a brow. “Talking to yourself?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Lucifer complained. “You’re hardly alone. You won’t ever be by yourself again, Sammy boy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “I’ll try not to do that. It freaks Dean out.”

“It’d freak anybody out, I think, yourself included by the looks of it.” She studied him. “You considered medication to control them? Might be something out there that can relieve it.”

“I’m just trying to find a balance and get through each day right now.”

They left the house, making as little noise as they could.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean lay still in bed as the morning sunlight peeked through the cracks in the boards covering the window. Jo was asleep beside him, curled up in a ball with her knees to her chest. Her back was bare to the line of her panties, no bra strap across it, and he realized she’d trusted him not to touch her in the night. Her denial of thinking he was the sort of guy who’d take advantage had been true. He’d jumped to a conclusion and she trusted him.

Lisa had trusted him and look where that had gotten her? How could it be any different for Jo? He was toxic. Just knowing him doomed a woman. He and Sam were both death for women.

His head throbbed with tension, his eyes ached, and he felt so very emotionally numb. Just another day in Cas world. This was what things had come to. In a way, this new world was just as bad to live in as trying to live for a year without Sam. Both were emotionally draining. Both taxed him to his limits.

It appeared the bedroom walls were a barrier Castiel wouldn’t breach. Good to know. How did he know that? Because if Cas had come in, he would have see that Dean and Jo had ignored his instructions. They would have been chastised already.

Good. He had a way to talk with Jo about what they were going to do about Castiel. It was talking to anyone else that was going to be the problem, but they’d figure out something. They had to. He, Bobby, and Sam had been trying to work out some sort of system since Castiel had declared himself God, yet each time they implemented their ideas, Castiel showed up. Perhaps fresh eyes, Jo and Ellen’s, were needed. He intended to utilize their skills as much as he could within Castiel’s restrictions.

Getting out of bed, he dragged on a pair of jeans before tucking the covers more securely about Jo. She looked vulnerable asleep and he almost touched her cheek, drawing his hand back before actually touching her skin. He turned, picked out clean clothes, and went take a shower. He’d let her sleep as long as she wanted. She’d need the rest to face what life was like with Castiel ruling the earth. She’d discover soon enough just how much things had changed.

When he returned to the bedroom, with the idea of leaving his robe out for her to wear, he found her awake and sitting up in bed. She pulled the covers tighter to her chest. “It’s real,” she said in a low voice. “I woke up and couldn’t figure out for a minute if it was real, if I really had died and been brought back.”

He pulled the robe from his bag and laid it on the end of the bed. “It’s definitely real.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Damn.”

He understood the sentiment. “Shower is free. You can use my robe if you want. I rarely use it. Sounds like Ellen and Sam are awake. I think Ellen might be making breakfast.” He took a few steps back. “Or you can stay in bed. Might be good for you to do that.”

“I have to get up. Do an inventory of what I left here, decide what I need since I’m, you know, alive again. A girl needs things.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I know.” He understood the sort of things she meant. Living with a woman for a year tended to make a man very aware of those items. “Come down when you’re ready.”

Dean went downstairs, discovering Ellen cooking up a storm in the kitchen. She had several pans on plus the electric skillet. Sam was staying out of her way. “What’s going on?”

“She felt the need to cook.”

Ellen poured a cup of coffee and brought it to Dean. “Here, sweetie. Brewed fresh.”

He grasped her arm before she could return to the stove. “Ellen, you don’t have to do all this.”

“I have to do something and right now…it’s cooking.”

It was a feeling he was familiar with. When Castiel had first begun to rampage about the earth, shaping it the way he’d wanted, Dean had worked on the Impala. He’d had control of that little corner of his world. This was Ellen’s way to have control at present.

“Sit down. I’ll have some pancakes done in a minute and there’s sausage and bacon, some eggs….” She shrugged and he released her arm.

From above came the sound of water running, then sobs. He cringed to hear Jo crying. Dean couldn’t remember ever hearing her cry before. It emphasized the surreal sensation he’d been having.

Ellen looked over her shoulder at him, a silent query as to if what she suspected had happened had happened.

He shook his head, saw the relief in her eyes, but wasn’t offended by it. He understood it. “Ellen --”

“You’re a better man than that, I know.”

Only he wasn’t, was he? He was a terrible man, his presence destroying lives all around him, like Lisa and Ben. “Do you?”

She filled a plate and brought it to him, setting it down. Her hand touched his cheek. “I know you, Dean. You’re a good man.”

“How do you know?”

“Because a lesser man wouldn’t be so torn up inside over everything that’s happened.” Ellen returned to the stove. “You want another pancake, Sam?”

“No thanks. The first full plate was enough.”

He was finished and drinking coffee with Sam, discussing one possible case Sam had found, when Jo came into the kitchen. Her face was still splotchy from that crying they’d heard, but there was a sense of purpose in her gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo listened carefully to the sound of Dean going down the stairs. Only when she was sure he was gone did she reach for his robe and pull it on. It smelled like him, of the comforting scent of his aftershave and she sighed. She felt comforted in the same way she did when she smelled leather. Leather was a reminder of her dad and of how he’d held her tightly whenever he’d returned from a trip. Whether Dean realized it or not, there was a comforting vibe to him.

At least, she thought so. He’d comforted her those brief moments in Carthage and despite admitting he wasn’t sure, he’d been so confident that the Colt could kill Lucifer…only it hadn’t worked and she and Ellen had died.

Tears welled up and she brushed them aside, stepping into the hallway on bare feet and going into the bathroom. She started the shower, hung the robe on the door hook and turned, facing the mirror.

Jo slid a hand along her side. Shouldn’t there be some scar, some sign of what had happened? It wasn’t erased simply because Castiel had chosen to put her back together.

But it was gone. A closer look revealed that all of her scars were gone, those tiny marks that showed some big mistakes on her part, reminders of things she’d learned the hard way. Anger pierced her. Those marks were hers and they were gone. She didn’t feel like herself without them, like this wasn’t really her body.

Castiel had no right to leave them off of her. They were hers and she wanted them back.

Steam from the shower swirled about her and she wrenched her gaze from the mirror. Thinking about it wasn’t going to change it. This was how it was now. Jo wondered if Dean and Sam had returned from death without former scars as well. She’d have to remember to ask later.

Getting in the shower, Jo stood motionless for long minutes beneath the spray. The sobs took her by surprise and she gulped in the misty hot air, her tears mingling with the water. Jo didn’t bother trying to hide them. She needed to let it all out and leaned against the shower wall. Slowly, she sat, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

She cried for the life she’d had, the world that was gone, and for Dean and Sam, changed by circumstances that were largely not of their making.

When the sobs stopped, she went through the motions of washing her body and hair, using men’s soap and shampoo and not really caring what it did to her skin and hair. She’d try to care later, after re-acclimating to the land of the living.

Strange how she felt better after a good cry. She felt like she could face the day and move forward.

Jo laid out the clothes she had available and made a mental list of the things she needed to buy. Jeans, a few shirts, socks, underwear, a set of pajamas, a winter coat. Then there were the toiletries. What she needed was a trip to a store, preferably a big chain store and a couple thrift stores.

Going downstairs, she grabbed her jacket. She’d had money stashed in a couple hidden pockets when she’d died.

It wasn’t there.

She checked twice, then checked the pockets of her jeans. Still no money. So how was she to buy those things she needed? Jo closed her eyes. Castiel couldn’t have brought her back with her money? Geez. She stepped into the kitchen. “Dean?” Jo crossed her arms, mildly embarrassed that she was even going to ask this. She didn’t care to borrow money from anyone. Ellen had instilled in her the importance of a woman having her own income of some sort.

“Yeah?” He poured her a cup of coffee and set it down on the table near her.

“Can I borrow fifty bucks? I’ll pay you back when I have it.”

He didn’t hesitate to take out his wallet, handing her a credit card instead of cash. “Here. Just got this one a few days ago. Get whatever you need.”

“No questions?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You mentioned you needed some things and Ellen was telling me her account information and cash is all gone. She and Sam checked up on it last night. Makes sense yours is, too.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t need to pay me back.”

She slipped the card in her jeans pocket and sat down, her back to the stove and cabinets. She saw Dean go out the front door and then Ellen was setting a filled plate in front of her. There was more food on it than she usually ate for breakfast and lunch combined. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re welcome.” Ellen finished cleaning up and went upstairs.

While Jo was eating, Sam came over and sat beside her, laying several pieces of plastic on the table. “Here, Jo. Used pictures from Bobby’s stash.”

They were i.d.’s, each with a different alias, the ones she favored. “You made these?”

“Well…. I know a guy close by. Dean and I know a guy. He made them. Ellen went with me. He did a rush job for the both of you. We actually got back about an hour before Dean came down this morning.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Sam. That was thoughtful.”

He nodded. “I know Castiel probably wants you to stay here, considering….” He glanced away. “Anyway, I thought if we ever needed you with us out on the road you should have options.”

The words were a jolt, reminding her that however normal and how she remembered Sam to be, he wasn’t that person any more. He suffered from hallucinations of Lucifer, the ultimate evil, and those hallucinations bled across everything he saw until the reality he saw wasn’t actual reality. That Sam was acknowledging it might be necessary to have a third person with them told her just how bad the hallucinations were. Sam knew and fully understood what was in the future for him.

“How often do you have them,” she asked as gently as possible.

He lifted one of the i.d.’s and studied it a moment before answering. “About once a day, sometimes more, sometimes less.” Sam glanced towards the living room, but Dean was outside, probably working on the Impala by now, and Ellen was upstairs taking a shower. Jo could hear the water running. He lowered his voice further. “I hate that Castiel can use me against Dean and does.”

Jo slid her plate away. She’d managed to eat about half the food on it. “No use in hating what we can’t change.”

He glanced at her, his smile rueful and sad. “I know. Can’t help it, though. We’re each other’s weakness and all the bad things of the world know it. All our allies have known it. Geez, even Lisa saw it.”

While she was intensely curious about Lisa, Jo didn’t press for information. Dean had relayed bare facts the night before, just enough to whet her curiosity about the woman he’d tried to retire with.

She got up, put her plate in the sink, refilled her coffee and returned to the table. Goose bumps raised on her forearms.

“Lucifer says we need to talk to Death about creating a cage and shove the imposter into it.”

Turning her head, she saw Sam’s gaze focused on one chair across from them. He appeared to be listening to someone speak. The weird part was that Jo really thought there was someone sitting there. Whoever had sat there last hadn’t pushed the chair in and it was slightly angled, away from the table.

It was creepy.

“I’m not sure Castiel needs a cage. I think he just needs to bleed out.”

“Sam.” Jo slowly laid a hand on Sam’s arm. “Sam.” She shook it.

He looked at her, gaze blank for several seconds before he blinked, shot a panicked glance at the chair across from them and tugged his arm away. A dull flush spread across his cheekbones. “I’m sorry. Sometimes it just happens.” By the way he was carefully not looking at the chair now, she thought it was still happening.

“Think you can find a car for me to use?”

His nod was slow and he appeared grateful for the task. “I’ll take a look.”

Jo remained drinking her coffee while Sam went about that task, her stare settling on that empty chair.

Chapter 4

“Mom?” Jo knocked on the closed bedroom door. Once, Bobby’s wife had set that room up as a guest room. Now, anyone who wanted to sleep there had to move books, boxes, and weapons out of the way. Bobby tended to use all the upstairs rooms as storage for various items, mainly his large library of books.

The door opened. Ellen was wearing the loose t-shirt and sweatpants Jo had dug out for her from their stash of clothes and she looked every day her age. “You need something, sweetie?”

“I came to ask you that.” The boxes and other items had been stacked all along the walls, clearing the twin bed, and someone had put sheets on it. Sam perhaps? He still seemed thoughtful in that way. “I’m making a run into town to get some clothes and essentials. You want me to get you anything?”

“The usual, I guess. Vitamins, shampoo, soap. Maybe some makeup? Foundation and mascara anyway. The ones I left here are all clumpy.” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “I’ll go in and get some clothes in the next couple days. Too bad Castiel didn’t think to give us wardrobes.”

“Yeah. When I left clothes here, I hadn’t thought I’d lose everything I had except for those two changes.” She glanced towards the stairs and back. “Want me to wake you when I get back?”

“No, let me sleep. I stayed up all night with Sam. That poor boy needed someone to talk to that wasn’t Dean or Bobby.” She sighed. “I can’t get over how different they are these days.”

“We’re all different.”

Ellen quirked a brow. “Ain’t that the truth. Enjoy your shopping.” She closed the door.

Jo shopped slowly, picking out clothes and toiletries, and a bag to put it all in, feeling all the while like she had Castiel looking over her shoulder. She felt a bit silly thinking that. Why would he worry about what she was buying? Why would he spy on her shopping trip? Wasn’t it really Dean and Sam he was attempting to police? She couldn’t come up with a good reason why Castiel would watch her shop, yet to her surprise, he appeared in the restaurant she went to for lunch, sitting across from her and making it clear he had been watching her.

“Good afternoon, Jo.” His smile was gentle and a little patronizing, like he was trying for a fatherly vibe and failed. In her eyes he failed anyway.

“What do you want?” She dipped a French fry in ketchup and ate it.

“I’m pleased with you today. Your behavior is a far cry from your disobedience of yesterday.”

She paused in taking another bite. “Excuse me? My what?”

“Your disobedience. Or rather, your disagreeable manner and general surliness after I’d carefully raised you. That was yesterday, however. Today, you were careful shopping, searching for the best bargain with what you were given.”

“Were you watching me shop?” He really had been there. It hadn’t been her imagination and she dropped the fry she’d been dipping in ketchup in preparation of eating it. “Why were you watching me shop?”

“I observed to see if you’d overcome the obstacle of no funds to spend gracefully. You did an admirable job.” He reached into an inner pocket of his coat. “It’s good for you to trust Dean to provide for you. You trusted, he did provide, and you spent wisely as a good wife should.” Castiel slid a bundle of bills across to her. “Your reward for the proper behavior of a wife.”

She didn’t reach for the money, lips parting in disbelief. Was he serious?

He nudged it closer, a tiny confused gleam growing in his eyes. “I assure you, the full eight hundred is there.”

“The full eight hundred,” she repeated slowly.

“Your obedience has brought a blessing to your mother as well. I’ve reinstated her accounts and returned the cash she had in her possession upon your deaths.” He sounded so very pleased by that.

Slowly Jo sat back and crossed her arms. “So you think you can buy our love by returning what was ours to begin with?”

Castiel blinked, that confusion she saw deepening. “It’s a reward, Jo, not a bribe. You behaved correctly and correct behavior deserves a reward. I’ll reward Dean, Sam, and Bobby for proper behavior when they display it as well.”

“It’s a bribe.”

“I’m not bribing you. It’s a reward --”

“Call it what you will, but you and I both know what it really is.” She stirred her coffee, then tapped the spoon on the rim and set it down.

A muscle on his jaw ticked. “You’d prefer the money gone?”

“I’d prefer to have all of my belongings back.”

“You’ve already chosen new.”

“You returned the money, you could return the belongings. I had a couple shirts and things in that bag I really liked.”

“You’re that attached to inanimate objects? To clothing?”

“Not the point I’m making.”

“Then make it.” His frown was deep.

Jo indicated him with a finger. “That coat is yours, right?”

“It was Jimmy’s.”

“But you wear it and continue to wear it. It’s yours now.” At his slow nod, she continued. “How would you feel if it was gone and someone had the ability to give it back to you and refused?”

“I’m not attached to this coat, Jo. If it was gone, I’d not feel any different. I’d not pine for it.”

She sat forward and began to eat her fries again. After four of them, she said, “Pretend you are.”

“No. I won’t pretend something I don’t feel.”

At his refusal, she thought a moment and changed tactics. “Okay, we’ll go at this a different way.” This might make him mad. While she didn’t want to see that after what Dean and Sam had told her and what she’d seen in Castiel’s eyes, she had to see it personally. She had to witness just what pissing him off could mean. Was it better to do it slightly or all out? She took a bracing breath. “You like being top dog now, the one in charge of everything.”

“Someone has to keep the world and everything in it in line.”

It sounded reasonable, really it did. The problem was him and the way he was keeping it all in line. Not to mention that it didn’t have to be him. While she wanted to touch on that, she decided not to. She’d save that discussion for another day, after she knew better how he’d respond. “So, let’s say something happens and you lose that place completely. It’s gone. You’re no longer…God. If someone could give it back to you and refused, how would you feel?”

“I won’t lose this position.”

“You lost your status as angel,” she argued as calmly as possible. “Those powers went poof.”

“That was due to outside influences.”

She nodded, pursed her lips, and glanced about the restaurant. “You don’t think there are any outside influences that could affect you now?”

There was an immediate change in his expression. He closed himself off, features going stony and cool. Crossing his arms on the table, he leaned forward. “You should show me respect, Jo.” The underlying and implied secondary words were that she should respect him because he was her God.

The alien Castiel was back and she forced herself to be casual in reaching for her coffee and taking a sip. “Respect has to be earned. What have you done to earn my respect?”

“I raised you.”

“And immediately insulted me by telling me I was raised to be a whore.”

“Eve wasn’t insulted to be Adam’s bride. Why should you be insulted to be Dean’s?”

“Eve hadn’t died being a hunter. Nor was she used to being in charge of her own life.”

“Do you not consider Dean good enough for you?”

“Dean’s not the issue here. Of course, he’s good enough. We’re talking about what you’ve done to gain respect from me.” She finished her fries and slid the plate away. “Though to be honest, I don’t know why you’re so concerned with having my respect. Why does it matter? You’ll still do what you want when you want. My respect wouldn’t change anything.”

He stared at her a long moment and disappeared. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back and neither was the money going to disappear, Jo took it and shoved it in her pocket without counting it. Did picking it up count as accepting his bribe?

Outside, the sky darkened with clouds and a heavy rain began to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel didn’t understand Jo Harvelle.

The fact distressed him because…he was God. He should have an understanding of all creatures, including humans, yet an understanding of Jo eluded him. It was distressing and quite worrisome because…God understood his peoples. God knew the inner workings of their minds and bodies and while he’d put Jo and Ellen back together, he didn’t understand Jo at all.

He should understand her completely. Should. So why didn’t he? A tiny whisper of doubt surfaced and he squashed it before it could take root.

I’m merely weary, he reasoned. Raising them expended quite a bit of energy. I’ve been so focused I’ve not given myself time to recover.

God shouldn’t have to recover, came a sly little voice inside his head and he banished that thought as well. He was God now. He was. He had the powers.

Jo took his efforts to make her comfortable with her new role as an insult. Why? He’d think she’d be happy to be alive again, yet she complained about the reason he’d raised her, complained when he attempted to alleviate her worries about the sex issue by declaring her wed to Dean, and now complained that Castiel didn’t return all her possessions, merely the money.

She was incomprehensible, behaving like he was doing something wrong when he hadn’t, insinuating there was some outside influence he hadn’t considered. There was no outside influence. The only creature equal to him was Death and Death didn’t care for anything except natural order.

He brought clouds and rain and stood for a moment in a field outside of town, feeling a sick sensation rising in his stomach. It was a sensation he was growing familiar with. Usually, it was a prelude to needing to release one of the souls inside him. The pressure would build and he had to release it. He’d decided it was a natural thing, a part of his new being and the way things were. Those creatures whose souls had made up Purgatory had once been on earth and he was merely returning them one by one, a part of keeping balance.

That was it. It was a balance matter.

Yet only sometimes did the gray mist that issued forth coalesce into a corporeal form. Usually it didn’t, mist arcing away from him into the sky. He’d kept an eye on those things and only the one had gone on a rampage. Dean and Sam, with a few other hunters, had managed to stop it and return it to purgatory. Most thus far simply circled the earth, like they weren’t sure what to do now that they were free.

The first time it had happened, he’d been uncomfortably aware of the similarities between the gray mist and the black smoke that were demons. What came from him weren’t demons, but they were the souls that had been in purgatory. They were…changed from what they’d been. He hadn’t decided what to call them yet or if he should name them at all.

Castiel tried to calm himself. Being upset or in any sort of emotional state brought it on and he thought that he’d be fine if only he could keep calm. Calm was good. He needed to stay calm.

But the more he thought about Jo and their exchange, the more angry he became. Choking back the gray mist that tried to push from his lips, he swallowed it down and forced himself to another location. He needed to not think about Jo Harvelle and how he didn’t understand her.

He needed to do something he knew.

Feeding orphans in China should calm him down -- and had the added benefit of demonstrating to Dean once more that he was a benevolent God.

~~~~~~~~~~

With Ellen taking a shower and going to bed, Jo in town, and Lucifer not in evidence, Sam stepped outside and took the short walk to where Dean was working on the Impala. It was busy work, nothing that needed doing, simply a way for Dean to keep himself occupied. All of the difficult work on the Impala was finished and the things that remained were true busy work, picky tasks Dean could engage in for hours. When Sam walked up, Dean was crouched down beside the front passenger tire. “Jo seem okay to you?”

Dean glanced up. “Yeah, why?”

He shrugged. “Um…. Ellen was telling me she doesn’t feel like herself. Ellen, I mean. Just wondered if Jo said anything like that.”

“Not in so many words. She’s scared.”

“She has good reason to be. We all do.”

“She’s quiet now, but she was getting that way before she died.” He stood and turned, leaning against the car and crossing his arms. “You think something is wrong with them?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I hope not.”

“You got a reason for thinking there is?”

“Nothing real, but.… I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining what’s not there. Cas raised me without a soul. What if something went wrong with them, too? Makes me wonder.”

“They’ve got their souls, Sam. The difference in Jo is little things I can’t put my finger on.”

“So you see it, too. I’m not imaging things.” He dipped his head in a slow nod. “With them anyway.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I see it, but those things could be natural reactions to the situation. Could even be things we didn’t have time to notice before Carthage. We’ll give it a couple days, see what happens. Maybe it’ll work itself out and if it doesn’t seem to, we can see what Bobby says when he gets back.” He glanced down at the ground. “What’s the hallucination tally from yesterday?”

“Dean….” Sam leaned against the car, too, hands in his pockets. “Do we have to do this every morning now?”

“Yes. We do this until maybe some day you can look me in the eye and tell me honestly that they’re gone. Tell me.”

Dean was hoping that he’d suddenly get better, or maybe that Castiel would heal him as a surprise. Why did he still hope Cas would heal him when it was obvious that wasn’t about to happen? Not to mention that this wasn’t something that was going to get better. Sam knew that. He was trying to accept it, though he was still a long way off in that task. Spending the rest of his life like this was no way to live. “They’re not going away. You know that.”

“I know. How many?”

He glanced away. Lucifer was still gone. “Four.” With Lucifer gone, he felt peaceful almost and even normal. He could focus, hold a conversation, complete tasks easily. When Lucifer appeared, all of that went down the drain. Tension would spread across his shoulders and down his back and his attention would be divided -- a detriment in their lives.

“Four?” His brows rose. “Four hallucinations in a single freakin’ day?”

“Yes, four. One lasted most of the night while Ellen and I were out.” Four wasn’t even the highest daily tally. It was somewhere in the middle. One day they’d rushed over him, new hallucinations beginning shortly after the previous one ended. That day had been the day Dean had confronted him. There’d been no way to hide what was happening or downplay it and now…. Now Dean wanted a daily tally. Sam suspected he was charting them somewhere, trying to see if there was a pattern, something they could work with. It was something he’d thought about himself, but it depressed him too much to actually work on it. “Not like I can control them.”

“They all Lucifer?”

“Three were. The fourth was….” He hesitated to say it because it sounded a little silly to him, like saying he was seeing pink elephants or the White Rabbit.

“What,” Dean prodded.

He laughed, though he could barely put any real humor into it. “It’s silly. The fourth was Chuck.”

Dean leaned slightly to one side to look at him with head half turned. “Chuck. Prophet Chuck?”

“No, Chuck the Orkin guy. Of course, prophet Chuck.”

“Spill.”

The hallucination hadn’t been frightening at all. There’d been nothing in it that had alarmed him except for perhaps seeing Chuck there as a product of his mind. “He was sitting at Bobby’s desk when I woke up yesterday morning. He poured himself some whiskey, smiled, and told me to focus. Then he took a sip and disappeared.”

“That’s unhelpful.”

“My hallucinations aren’t here to help us, Dean. They’re bits of my mind I can’t keep control of. Thing is, that hallucination didn’t bother me. Still doesn’t. It lasted maybe a minute and didn’t disrupt anything. The other ones are the bad ones.”

“Focus, huh? What do you think your mind wants you to focus on?”

“I don’t know. Hunting? Finding a way to deal with the current threat to the world as we know it? Who knows? It might not even mean anything.”

“Maybe next time you see head Chuck, you can ask him to be a bit more specific?”

“‘Cause talking to my hallucinations is such a good idea.” He did sometimes reply, losing himself for a time in the hallucinations, like earlier in the kitchen with Jo. He’d found himself listening to Lucifer’s suggestion and relaying it to her.

“Talk to the okay one, ignore the dick one.”

“Uh-huh.” Ignoring Lucifer wasn’t easy. He tended to take over Sam’s entire line of sight, making things appear to be happening that weren’t. He’d been lucky the previous night that Lucifer hadn’t followed through after his warning. He’d contented himself with making comments, most wholly inappropriate, although sometimes he was right on the money and actually helpful.

It was in those moments that he told Sam that he was the part Sam had neglected to integrate with the others, the forgotten part. He was Lucifer Sam, the Sam completely given over to the angel’s control (however small a moment that had been), and he needed to be integrated as well. Maybe it was true. Maybe he’d get better if he forced that to happen, but he hesitated. Pulling himself as together as he had had nearly killed him. He didn’t think he’d live through a further attempt and he knew how much Dean needed him.

The question rose now however: if Lucifer was Lucifer Sam, then who was Chuck? How did Chuck fit in? Or did he?

“How’s the hand today?” Dean crouched back down.

He thought a moment, Ellen’s words ringing his mind. He was honest with the hallucinations. Shouldn’t he be honest with this, too? Over the hours, Ellen had indicated that he should come clean about it to Dean. He should admit he was the one hindering the healing process. A quick glance showed that Lucifer still hadn’t put in another appearance, but he was feeling like everything was sliding into sharp focus, a sign that Lucifer could appear at any time. “Worse,” he admitted.

“Worse how?” Dean paused, but didn’t stand again or look up.

“Infected again. The infection has spread to all the edges. The stitches --”

“I get the picture.” He stood again. “Let’s go take a look.”

Back in the house, Sam watched while Dean cleaned the wound with careful, gentle touches. It was probably a bad sign that he barely felt it at all. “Give me a minute before you re-stitch it.”

Dean cleaned up, then set out what he needed to stitch it closed again. He looked like he wanted to say something and, after a purse of his lips, and shake of his head, he did. “You’ve been picking at it, haven’t you? That’s why you took care of it yourself, so we wouldn’t see and put two and two together.”

“He’s not nearly as dumb as he looks,” Lucifer drawled from the doorway into the bathroom.

“It stops him sometimes.” He glanced at Lucifer, who wiggled his fingers in greeting.

“Picking at it?” Dean’s gaze dropped to Sam’s hand. “The pain.” He said it like he understood completely. Maybe he did at that. “Let’s get rid of him for awhile then.”

As Dean stitched, Lucifer’s image wavered and disappeared for the second time that day. Sam hoped there’d be hours before another hallucination.

Chapter 5

When Jo finally returned and came out to join him, Dean was glad for the company. He was tired of thinking about why Sam’s mind chose Chuck to balance out Lucifer or if there was even a reason for it. Sam was probably right. There was no reason. His mind was just picking people at random.

He was also tired of the memories of his own time in hell seeping back up into his consciousness. Standing in that bathroom stitching up Sam’s hand once more had made him remember a few things he’d like to forget again.

How he’d stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and tried to pretend he didn’t see the horror of hell in his own eyes. How his nightmares still continued and a few times he’d woken and thought maybe he’d never left hell at all. His nightmares had terrified Lisa, though she’d tried to hide it and insist she wasn’t bothered by them. He knew Sam did the same with the mirror because he’d seen him standing staring at his reflection with a vulnerable, frightened expression. He’d seen that searching gaze trying desperately to find the man he’d once been in the man standing there. He’d heard the cries and even screams from the nightmares and heard the words Sam said on waking.

I’m safe. I escaped.

The hallucinations undermined that mantra Sam whispered, but if it helped him get through the day, Dean would chant it with him. God knew he’d kept up a litany of similar phrases for weeks after the angels had raised him.

Dean was letting Sam talk when he wanted to and it was slowly all coming out, again with the unfortunate side-effect of bringing Dean’s own experiences with hell to the surface. He’d love to not have to think on it, but that wasn’t going to happen. To help Sam through this, he was going to have to face his own time in hell and he was dreading it.

He paused in his task. “Get everything you needed?”

“I did, thanks.” Jo brought a six pack over and set it down on the ground. “It didn’t rain here?”

“Nope. Sort of sunny all day.”

“Huh. Maybe I did piss him off. I thought I did. Does Castiel cause weather changes? Have you proved that?”

He leaned back so he wouldn’t hit his head on the inside of the hood and stood, stretching a little to ease the kink developing in his back from keeping that same position too long. “What do you mean ‘maybe you pissed him off’? What happened?”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, his highness showed up as I was eating lunch, tried to bribe me with money, and we had a conversation.”

“Bribe.”

“Yeah, he said that since I’d been a good little wife, I could have my money back. I tried explaining why I want my belongings back and he didn’t quite get the first analogy, so I went with comparing it to him losing the god-like powers.”

“He wasn’t amused,” Dean guessed. Castiel was a bit testy on the subject of his powers.

“Not really. Wanted to know why I wouldn’t respect him. He seems to think raising me from the dead is enough. He didn’t get that either.” She snorted. “For God, he sure doesn’t get some things any better than I remember from when he was an angel.”

He declined to comment on that. Privately, he agreed with that assessment. Reaching down, he popped one beer open and took a drink. The cans were still cold, the brew tasting good going down. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome. I figured if you’d been out here all day, you’d be ready for some refreshment. Sam concurred on both matters. Yes, you’d been out here all day and yes, you’d probably like a beer or two right now.” She took one for herself and after a long drink asked, “Wanna hear something sort of creepy?”

He smiled a little at the humor of her asking that. “We work with creepy every day.”

“Not this kind of creepy.”

“Lay it on me.”

“He watched me shop. Shop. That’s just…. Doesn’t he have better things to do, being God and all?”

“Guess not.” He took another drink and set the can down. “You know you shouldn’t piss him off. He could do any thing at any time.”

“I just wanted to see how he’d react, get a better feel --”

“Well, don’t. You had enough of a feel for how he is now last night. Don’t give him an excuse. Remember what I told you in the bedroom?”

Slowly, she nodded.

“You want him to lobotomize you into doing what he wants? He could. You want him to decide he made a mistake and take you and Ellen away again? He could do that, too…and let me remember you were here and insist I failed to keep you ‘in line’. Think before you poke at him, okay Jo?”

She set her can down. “How do you suggest I start understanding him then?”

“Don’t bother trying. Can’t understand him anymore if we ever could at all.” He went back to work, grateful that her presence kept him from his own dark thoughts.

Jo was quiet for a few minutes, then asked, “So how do I know this is really my body?”

Dean looked up from beneath the hood of the Impala again. She’d moved and was leaning against the side of the car, her arms crossed and gaze fixed on the building beside them. She’d taken his rebuke of her actions with calm acceptance and no real argument. “What do you mean?”

“All my scars are gone, like I never lived before Castiel brought me back.”

He nodded, remembering his own reaction upon realizing his physical scars and the remnants of improperly set bones were gone. He’d felt free physically, but the emotional and spiritual scars had remained, somehow worse than the physical ones he’d ever suffered. “In a way, you’re starting over, reset physically. I don’t know why it’s like that when they raise you, it just is. Me, Sam, you. Ellen, too, I bet.” He let his glance drift down Jo. He’d once made a joke about being ‘re-hymenated’ and wondered for about two seconds if it was true for her. If bones had never been broken and so on, then it could be true.

Then again, maybe there were limits to what was ‘fixed’ upon being raised from the dead. Did he really want to think about Jo’s possible re-hymenation?

The answer was yes, he realized with a jolt. He wanted to know if that was a limit…but short of action, he wasn’t going to find out and action wasn’t in the cards as they were currently laid out. At least not in the cards he and Jo were dealing with. Castiel’s cards were another matter. He had a different deck entirely. It wasn’t the sort of thing to ask Jo in conversation either. He could almost see her amused grin and hear a sassy comeback that indicated that no way in hell was he going to find out any time soon.

The breeze stirred her hair and she reached back with a hand, smoothing it back into place. He caught a whiff of something almost floral on that breeze. Perfume? Had she bought perfume while she was out? This was a light, delicate scent, as far as could get from the musky, sensual scent Lisa had favored. He drew in a greedy breath of that pleasant scent, then blinked and returned his attention to the engine, willing himself to ignore both his speculation on Jo’s physical state and that ghost of perfume he thought he smelled.

“I want my scars back.”

The pronouncement startled him. “Why?” Why would she want that? Why would anyone want that?

“I had a chicken pox scar on my knee. I was about eight when I had them and I was really sick. I even had them in my mouth. Mom got so worried that she took me to the emergency room, but I got over it. I lived, I healed, and I had the scars to show that I’d been through that and survived. The scar was a marker of that memory and I want my scar memories back.”

“The ones I lost were best gone.”

She turned, rested her hands on the car. “Well, I liked my scars. They reminded me of where I’ve been and the lessons I’ve learned.”

He’d never thought about it like that. “You have your actual memories to remind you of that.”

“Sure, but the ones that leave marks…. Those are the ones I never wanted to chance forgetting, especially the more recent ones.”

“Like what?” He looked up again and saw her hand go to her side, to that place that had been ripped open by hellhound claws. There’d been so much blood pouring from her…. If she’d lived through that, the skin along her side would have been puckered with scar tissue.

“I just don’t feel like myself without them. I feel like this body he gave me isn’t really mine, just one that looks like mine.”

“Well, as someone who’s been raised too, I can tell you, it’s yours. Looks like yours, feels like yours…it’s yours, Jo.”

“I guess. Feels weird.” She cleared her throat. “Did you feel weird back then? I mean, almost awkward in yourself, like your soul had to get used to being in a body again?”

Dean gave up on working and came around to stand beside her, leaning against the Impala and studying her. “That’s how you’re feeling?”

“A little. Like there’s a disconnect still going on.” She ran a hand along the Impala’s door. “Maybe I’m imagining it.”

Could that be what he was seeing different? Was her soul not quite settled back in her body yet? Was that even possible?

“When’s Bobby getting back?” It was a blatant attempt to change the subject and he let it happen.

“Not sure. In the next couple days. Could be early or late. Sam and I’ll head out when he’s back. Sam’s looking at a few possible cases --”

Jo shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. If you do, I’ll want to go, or help somehow and I can’t go out or I risk the displeasure of his royal highness, Castiel, formerly known as an angel of the Lord. I want to help, to know every detail, but with Cas being bat shit crazy and trying to turn me into a Stepford wife for you, I…I can’t. Not until….” She sighed and faced him. It looked like she was squaring her shoulders even. “I really do need to understand him, Dean. Maybe if I understand him, I can figure out something to help us all.”

She was determined to do something and he could understand that, acknowledging it with a nod. “Don’t poke at him too hard,” he cautioned. “Take our word on what you can and avoid dealing with him as much as possible.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“You know what careful means? Because it doesn’t sound like you were too careful earlier today if you got him playing with the weather. Next step after that is him pulling things out of himself and tossing them to the wind.” He snorted. “Spits them out, actually. Opens his mouth and there they come.”

“He’s really done that?”

“Yeah. He throws a tantrum and this…stuff comes out. Looks a little like a demon, but the wrong color and consistency. Gray, not black and either looks like ectoplasm or mist instead of a cloud. Weird stuff. He releases it and just stands there a moment, like he’s admiring it or something.”

“I didn’t see anything like that, just sudden rain. I was careful, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll treat him with really white kid gloves as I poke around. It’ll be fine, Dean. I have an idea how to handle this. When I get it figured out exactly, I’ll share.”

He straightened and wiped his hands on a cloth. “I’m sorry --”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear those words from your mouth again.” She moved closer. “I’m sick of hearing you apologize for things you’ve no control over. Geez. Castiel’s a big…whatever he is. He made his own decisions and those just happened to include bringing me and mom back. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She kept saying it, and Ellen, too, yet he still felt like he should apologize to them.

“What the hell happened to you, Dean?” Raising a hand, she touched his cheek, sweeping her fingers across his cheekbone in a slow caress. “You’re not meek and indecisive, but I keep seeing those things from you and it baffles me how you got this way. You told me some of it, but I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it.”

He grasped her hand in his, bringing it down to their sides. “It happens when the crap piles up and doesn’t stop; when you trust someone who turns around and becomes every bad thing you’ve ever tried to stop; when you have nothing left.”

“You still have Sam.”

“For how long?” He glanced in the direction of the house, lowering his voice. “Castiel broke him, Jo. He tore down a wall that Death put up and ordered us not to scratch. Death was very clear that that wall had to remain in place and it’s gone. Sam’s soul was so broken apart and flayed alive, that it needed a wall. Think about that. I may have felt like I needed one when I returned from hell, but Sam really needed one. A wall and Cas pushed it down without a thought. Sam’s broken and I can feel that I’m starting to lose him. I can’t lose him and it’s gonna happen whether I want it to or not. His mind isn’t something I can fix and Castiel refuses to.”

“You have Bobby, me, and mom.”

“Until Castiel takes you all away, too.”

“What happened to the man I knew who faced the odds and went down swinging with a sarcastic quip and a cocky grin?”

“Honestly?” He’d thought about that himself, wondered just where that part of himself had gone and if he’d ever put in an appearance again.

She nodded. “Honestly.”

“I think that man never really came back from hell. I tried to be him, you know. Tried to pretend I was still okay, and I did pretty well, but I wasn’t, and when you hold things in and push them down, it covers what was there to begin with. I think he’s too buried to ever come back again.”

She squeezed his hand with hers. The understanding in her eyes was almost too overwhelming and Dean pulled away, returning to his work.

Jo remained outside with him, not saying anything more, simply being a comforting presence there with him, company should he wish to talk about anything. He didn’t. Her presence was enough. Shortly before six, Sam came outside and over to them.

“Ellen’s got dinner ready,” he announced. “She says come and get it now or she’ll let us eat it cold.”

A laugh escaped Jo. “I’ve heard that phrase more than a few times. She’s serious, too.” She went towards the house.

Sam waited while Dean put away the tools. “News reports are just coming in. Some taped, most live. Castiel is feeding orphans and giving speeches on the importance of caring for orphans and widows. Keeps quoting the book of James.”

“Huh. James.” Dean should have figured Cas would work his way to that scripture. He’d been picking and choosing which ones he was highlighting to the world. “At least he’s not talking ‘eye for an eye’.”

“This time.” He crossed his arms. “His church website got so overrun all we get is error messages now saying bandwidth has been exceeded.”

“That’ll whip them into a frenzy.” The members of Castiel’s church were every bit as fanatic as some cults he’d had contact with over the years. He almost couldn’t believe how quickly it was growing. They were getting as much publicity lately as Castiel himself.

“Probably.”

It was a relief to go into the house and not have to pretend an intimacy with Jo that he didn’t actually have. Sam and Ellen continued to monitor reports while Jo took off for town. She didn’t tell him what her plans were and he didn’t ask. With the threat of Castiel not imminent, Dean felt suddenly exhausted, the rush of tension exiting his body leaving him a limp mess on the couch and he stared blankly at the news reports on the tv. His eyes closed and the next thing he saw was Jo, shaking him awake and trying to coax him upstairs to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rather than sit at Bobby’s house and brood, Jo went bowling. She’d needed to get away from the atmosphere of the house and be by herself. Bowling was a way to relieve stress and tension and a thing she’d done often growing up in a small town where the entertainment options were the Roadhouse, cruising the half-mile strip of main street, or bowling. The level of tension there at the house was like the morning of Carthage all over again and she wondered as she bowled, if Dean and Sam had thought to step away from it and not do anything related to hunting for an evening. It’d do them both good to take in a movie or do like she was and bowl a few games.

She also wondered if the sensation of being disconnected inside herself was going to go away. Jo thought it was starting to. As hours passed, she was feeling more like herself and less like she was shell-shocked. Ellen was having a harder time with it, so it wasn’t only her experiencing it. Maybe it had something to do with them having been in heaven? Maybe they weren’t supposed to come back and doing so was what was causing it?

Jo sighed. It wasn’t like she’d ever find out, so what use was speculating?

After several games, she headed for the bar she’d once spent time in. It was still there and she nursed a drink while watching the patrons. The tv bolted in the corner played live coverage of Castiel. Finally, she decided she’d been on her own enough and headed back to the house. She found Sam asleep on the floor and Dean asleep on the couch. From the sound of snoring upstairs, she concluded that Ellen was in bed, too.

Jo stepped over to Dean, crouched down, and gently shook him. If Castiel did come back tonight, she didn’t want him to find Dean on the couch instead of where Castiel had planned. “Dean,” she whispered. “Come on. Let’s go up to bed.”

He half opened his eyes, but seemed to grasp what she was saying, letting her maneuver him upstairs and into bed. She got his shoes, socks, and shirts off, but left his jeans on, then went back downstairs to see if she could get Sam onto the couch.

Sam had woken and was just sitting up. “Where were you,” he asked with a yawn.

“Went bowling, had a drink, people watched.” Jo helped him move his blankets and smooth them out.

“Bowling?”

“Fun time.”

“It’s been a long time since Dean and I bowled.”

“Maybe you should go tomorrow night, take a break.”

He stared at her, then smiled. “Take a break? It’s not that easy, Jo.”

“No, but a break can relieve stress, which could ease whatever your hallucinatory triggers are. It might help.”

He stretched out and pulled the blanket up. “You’re a lot like Ellen. You know that?”

“Well, we do have that whole mother-daughter thing going on.” She made sure the blanket covered Sam’s feet. “Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Jo.”

She was to the stairs when his voice sounded again.

“Is it selfish to admit I’m glad he raised you and Ellen?”

Jo looked back at him. “I think it’s human…and I’m glad we’re here, too.” Turning back to the stairs, she headed up to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

At six-forty in the morning, Bobby Singer quietly let himself into his house. He knew Dean and Sam were there because the car was out front and from the quiet, he suspected they’d finally started sleeping. With as little sleep as both were getting these days, he didn’t want to interrupt them.

He knew he should have stayed, but the opportunity to get away from Castiel had been too welcome to pass up. He’d needed to think and assess if Castiel was going to remain a threat or if he was the type of threat to lose interest in them again after awhile. Despite thinking about it the entire time he’d been gone, he’d come to no conclusion. Cas had already been type two, the sort who came back, but he could yet lose interest again.

There were frustratingly no real answers.

He stepped towards Sam and wondered where Dean was. Usually, they slept in this room. It occurred to him that the coffee smelled fresh and he set his bag down, moving into his kitchen and stopping.

Ellen Harvelle sat at his kitchen table in pajamas, nursing a cup of coffee. “Hey, Bobby,” she said in a low voice. “Morning.”

He spent nearly a minute wondering if he was hallucinating now before he drew his gun. “Ellen Harvelle is dead. Who are you really and what the hell are you doin’ in my house?”

“It’s a long story and it’s really me.”

“Sam! Wake up and get your ass in here!”

He wanted explanations and he wanted them immediately, but not from her. He wanted Sam and Dean to tell him whatever that long story was.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Scripture references are most of Romans 9:15, Romans 9:18, and Romans 9:20 (all NIV).

“Wake up, Sam!”

Waking to someone yelling was never good. Sam jerked awake, blinked, sat up, and saw Bobby home already. He had a gun pointed towards the kitchen and Sam heard Ellen’s voice.

“Oh, put that thing away. You really planning on shootin’ me?” It was the tone she used when someone was getting ready to do something she considered completely ridiculous. Sam and Dean both usually reacted with either a respectful ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am’ depending on whatever question she’d asked. “That’s a fine how do you do.”

“You don’t talk. Sam, get up now.”

He struggled to untangle the blanket at his feet, finding it difficult as his body was taking its own sweet time waking up. It felt like he’d taken a huge dose of cold medicine with codeine. He was surprised by how hard he must have slept, though he supposed it was about time since he’d been barely sleeping for a few weeks now. “Bobby, hold on.”

They hadn’t expected him back this early. Sam had hoped to have some sort of advanced warning so they could explain the situation before Bobby glimpsed Ellen or Jo.

“Holding. Get a move on it, kid.” Bobby backed up a few steps, widening his stance. He was impatient for either an explanation or excuse to start shooting and Sam was reminded that he and Dean weren’t the only ones on edge these past weeks. Bobby was as well.

Tossing away the blanket, Sam stood. “First, it’s not a trick and she’s not a shape shifter.”

“Comforting. Keep talking.”

Ellen remained at the table, watching with tired patience. She rested her chin on one hand.

“She’s not a ghost --” He moved closer, slow step by slow step, hearing the sounds of someone moving around upstairs, either Dean or Jo, maybe both.

“I gathered.”

“Or a hallucination.”

“Also gathered. Get to the explaining already.”

He shrugged. “It’s her. Ellen. Actually, Bobby, it’s them. Ellen and Jo.”

“Jo too?” Bobby’s sigh held disappointment and his words weary fear. “What did you two do, Sam? Are you both so desperate now to keep people --”

“No!” He should have figured Bobby might come to such a conclusion, considering the sort of history Sam and Dean had. He held up his hands. “No. This wasn’t our choice.”

“Mine or Jo’s either,” Ellen said before draining her coffee cup. “No one asked us if we even wanted to come back down here.”

“Go on.” He lowered the gun.

Sam suppressed a relieved sigh. He’d had thoughts of Bobby “accidentally on purpose” shooting Ellen because he didn’t think they were telling the truth.

Dean came down the stairs and into the room, Jo appearing behind him as he crossed towards Sam. Jo skirted them all, got a cup of coffee, and joined Ellen at the table. Her hair wasn’t brushed, a tangle about her shoulders and there was a sleepy turn to her gaze. Bobby’s alarmed cry for Sam to wake must have woken her as well as Dean.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Sam told him.

“That stands to figure.” The gun was finally put away.

“Cas made a decision.” Dean went to the kitchen doorway, putting himself between Bobby and the two women and leaning against the doorway. “You remember I’d said a few things about losing people when Cas went all God on us?”

“Yeah. You were trying to keep his attention on you so Sam could stab him.”

“Well, he took it as a personal request from me to do something about that and brought Ellen and Jo back down to be family.”

Ellen sat back in her chair. She crossed her arms.

Sam cleared his throat, gesturing as he spoke. “See, you’re the father figure, Ellen the mother, I’m obviously the brother….” He hesitated mentioning Jo’s part. Castiel’s insistence on her ‘doing her duty’ had embarrassed her and he didn’t want to embarrass her like that if he could help it.

Bobby’s brows rose. “And Jo? What about her? What’s her…place in this family Castiel has cooked up?”

“Can’t you guess?” Jo looked down at the table and back up. “The little wifey with orders to start popping out rugrats. A full family, Bobby, to replace everything Dean has lost. Eventually. Kids take awhile.”

Bobby’s reply was a muttered, “Balls.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo was awakened far too early to a loud cry for Sam to “wake up already”.

She sat up, clutching the covers to her though she was wearing a nightshirt. Dean was pulling on a shirt as he went to the bedroom door.

“Stay put until I call you down,” he ordered as he went out the door.

She ignored the order, tossing the covers aside and dragging on her new robe as she hurried down the stairs after him.

Bobby was home. She took a moment to study his familiar form and realize how glad she was that to see him and happy that he really was out of the wheelchair like Dean and Sam had said he was.

When he saw her, he backed up. In one of his hands was a gun, but he wasn’t pointing it at any of them.

Dean was looking better this morning, though he, like she, was obviously still trying to wake up completely, smothering a yawn with one hand. A night without Castiel hovering had helped him and Jo hoped there’d be more nights like that for both he and Sam. She wondered if he’d been awake already when Bobby come in.

Ellen remained silent, sitting at the kitchen table. She patted the chair beside her in invitation for Jo to join her. After snagging a cup of coffee for herself, she took that invitation.

Sam kept his hands up in a placating gesture. He too had the look of someone who’d just woken up. His hair was tousled and the stubble on his jaw heavy. Jo had only ever seen him completely clean shaven. Even the morning of Carthage he’d been awake before everyone else, showered, shaved, and ready to go.

She listened and added her own explanation when Sam faltered. It was nice of him to try to spare her embarrassment, but unnecessary right now. Bobby’s reply made her nod in agreement. She’d had a few choice words circling in her mind, too.

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds and he took a deep, noisy breath before reopening his eyes. “He’s serious, too. Seems pretty gung-ho on the subject.”

Bobby frowned, blinked twice, and shook his head. “He gone more nuts than he was since I been gone?”

“Not sure there’s much crazier Cas could go,” was Dean’s dry reply.

His sigh was heavy and long. “They’re real?”

“Flesh and blood,” Sam told him.

“How long they been here?”

“A couple days,” Dean supplied.

“You ever gonna talk to us directly?” Ellen crossed her legs. “We won’t bite, you old cuss. Though I suppose I could if you ask nicely.”

Instead of answering, he went to the bottle on the desk, lifted it, muttered that whoever was drinking his whiskey had better stop, and took a hearty swig. He glanced back at them, took another swig, then capped the bottle and turned to face them. “Well, then. This certainly changes things.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean muttered.

Bobby set the bottle on the desk. “I suppose you two are doing what you’re told regarding the reason he brought Jo back.”

Dean’s grin was wry. “Don’t we always do what we’re told?”

He snorted and crossed his arms, leaning back against the desk edge. “You getting rings soon? I notice you’re not wearing any.”

“Rings?” Jo crossed her arms on the table, abandoning her coffee.

“Couples wear rings, you two. Don’t you know anything about getting hitched?”

Jo shook her head. “He just declared it, Bobby. He never said anything about us having to have rings. We don’t need….” But they did. Proof to Castiel that they were taking this seriously and a way to throw off possible suspicion. “Crud.”

Dean’s grin slipped. “Son of a bitch. We need rings, don’t we?”

Sam came to the table and joined Jo and Ellen. “You probably should. Before you end up with rings that are permanently attached.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” Ellen cautioned. “You’ll give ideas.”

“He wouldn’t….” Jo started to say, then sighed. “He would, wouldn’t he?”

“Damn it,” Dean muttered.

Ellen patted her hand. “Go shower and get dressed, sweetie. I think you and Dean are going ring shopping today.”

She blinked. Rings hadn’t been a thing she’d thought she’d have to deal with and from the look on Dean’s face, he hadn’t thought about it either. Count on Bobby to point out something they hadn’t considered.

The entire day felt awkward to Jo. She’d once thought that when and if she went ring shopping, it’d be with a guy she was madly in love with. Not that she didn’t like Dean. She did, it just wasn’t love. Sure, he was an attractive guy and all, but love simply wasn’t in the picture. A little bit of pure lust perhaps.

He bought her the ring she liked, pausing a moment before sliding it on her finger. Jo liked how he didn’t just hand it to her to put on, but rather put it on her, a physical confirmation that they were a team in this. Jo and Dean, united in putting one over on Castiel. He held her hand in his, thumb touching the engagement ring, sliding it a little back and forth on her finger.

“Together, right,” he asked.

“To the end of it.”

His glance raised to meet hers, understanding passing between them. They’d see this to whatever end it came to: either neutralizing Castiel or killing him, thus freeing them from that reason he’d raised her. Then maybe they’d be able relax and re-evaluate what they were to each other.

The rings felt like a weight there on her finger. She could imagine Dean was having the same feeling.

Dean released her hand. “Let’s get lunch.”

Periodically, she felt the skin along the back of her neck seem to crawl. She’d glance around, looking for a reason for that sensation, but there never was one. Jo put it down to nerves over the entire situation.

They ate lunch at Dean’s favorite burger joint, Dean filling her in on movies she’d missed and tv shows she might like. When they got to talking, and their circumstances disappeared from their minds, conversation was easier, almost like it had been before she’d died. But then his gaze would fall on her hand and those rings -- or hers would -- and the awkwardness would creep back in. Jo could almost see the apology in his eyes every time, though at least he was no longer saying it like a reflexive reaction to looking at her.

The sooner they got this taken care of, the better, she decided. “Maybe we should go back to the house.”

“Maybe we should.” He tossed some singles on the table, paid the bill, and led her to the car. She reached for the door handle and he grasped her arm, stopping her from opening the door. “Jo.”

The weird sensation she had of being watched continued, growing stronger until she felt jittery. “Dean?”

With a glance around them, he drew her to him. She had about five seconds to see the uncertainty on his face before he was kissing her. It wasn’t passionate or the sort of kiss that indicated he wanted to throw her on her back. Rather, it was sweet and gentle, the kind of kiss he’d given her in Carthage. Bittersweet.

Tears prickled at her eyes as Dean pulled back. She started to raise her hand to touch his cheek.

“I’m proud of you both.” The pride Castiel claimed was reflected in his voice.

Jo snatched her hand back before touching Dean’s face and quickly wiped away the tears before turning to face Castiel. Had Dean seen him there and that was what had caused the spontaneous kiss? “Castiel.” If all their kisses were like that, there was no way they were going to fool anyone for long, even Castiel.

“It pleases me that you’ve picked out rings together. This decision is a step forward for you both.”

“Yeah, well, we’re all about moving forward,” Dean said, arms going around her. His hands clasped at her waist, holding her back against him. The heat of his body felt good against her back and she relaxed a fraction.

She rested her hands on his.

Stepping close, Castiel cocked his head and asked, “do you still have reservations, Jo?”

“Only the usual ones.”

“Is there anything I can do to ease those worries for you?”

“No. Nothing.”

“And you, Dean?”

“Everything is peachy, Cas.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll leave you. I have murderers, thieves, and liars to punish.”

He was gone then and with him the sensation of being watched. Had she been brought back with a hyper-sensitivity to him? That was twice now she’d thought he’d been there and he had.

The week after Dean and Sam left, Jo spent the days by herself, either wandering Bobby’s property or wandering Sioux Falls noting the changes in the area just in a couple years. She did a lot of thinking, of “soul-searching” on the situation and current world. She intentionally kept herself away from the house and where her mom and Bobby were charging full steam ahead on some project. She wasn’t ready to get involved.

Sitting on the steps near the University library, Jo finalized her plans to figure out just what she could get away with. Once she’d determined her boundaries, she’d begin figuring out how to help Dean and Sam neutralize Castiel -- or kill him if it came to that.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen walked across Bobby’s land to the edge of the field nearby. She turned her face up to the sunshine and rested against the fence.

She was feeling better now after two weeks alive, though her appetite still wasn’t back to normal yet. As the days had passed, she’d felt more like herself.

It was apparent this world was very changed. She’d looked at political events, weather reports, entertainment reports, and everything she could think of, spending her days immersing herself in the current world. She’d even checked out the Church of Castiel and the opposition to it.

The opposition campaigned that Castiel wasn’t God, that he was the Antichrist sent to usher in the last days. They cited the miracles, the changes he was making, and more. Their arguments were persuasive. Unfortunately, the movement was floundering. Their leaders had a habit of mysteriously dying right when they began to gain momentum. She suspected it was Castiel doing that, upset at being called an imposter.

As for his ‘church’….

Her lips twisted with disgust. It was made up of mostly women from what she could see on the website, and was growing daily. They had a twitter feed, a Facebook page, and were now starting charities to do the work of God. Women from all over the world had their video testimonies up on YouTube, one page at the church site dedicated to those links. There were a few men among that number, very few at present.

Ellen crossed her arms on top of the fence. It was time to have a talk with Castiel, see if she could talk some sort of sense into him. Bobby had tried to talk her out of this, but she needed to do this, needed to talk to Castiel herself. “Castiel,” she said, “it’s Ellen. Got some time to come talk? There are a few things I need some clarification on and I think only you can answer the questions.”

She waited. Ten minutes, twenty, forty. At nearly an hour, she thought she felt a presence behind her. “Are you there, Cas?” Turning, she saw him appear and approach.

“Hello, Ellen. Your respectful tone is greatly appreciated. Dean could take a lesson.”

“He’s worried about you.”

Castiel laughed and shook his head. She thought she detected a note of sadness to that laugh. “No, he’s not and you know it.” He put his hands in his coat pockets. “What may I answer for you today?”

“You know I’ve got questions.”

“Of course. I knew you’d need answers, so ask.”

She half turned away, looking out across the field again. “Why me? Why not just Jo? You could have brought only Jo back. I admit I’m not entirely clear what my role is here. Jo’s is clear, but mine…. You never gave me instructions. Do I go back to my life or what?”

“Your role is unchanged from the basics of what it was. You guide, you give counsel. You’re a good mother, Ellen, giving a firm hand when needed. Dean isn’t the only one who needs that. Sam especially needs…guidance.”

“I thought you liked Sam. You seemed to before Carthage, but they said you took down the wall Death put in his head. What happened there?”

He joined her at the fence. “Sam betrayed me. Any courtesy I show him now is because he’s Dean’s brother and Dean cares for him. Any affection I may have had for Sam is gone.”

She chose her words with care. “Isn’t one of God’s greatest attributes His capacity for forgiveness of human faults? We’re human. We all have faults.”

“Are you implying I’m not God because I choose not to forgive Sam?” Though she held her breath right then, he appeared to be in a good mood, for he smiled. “Oh, Ellen. How much even you have to learn.”

Condescending much, she thought to herself.

“What right does the clay have to argue with the potter? Who are you, a human being, to talk back to God. “Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’” The potter can make a vessel for any purpose, including one without forgiveness. I raised Sam, like I raised you and Jo. I am your potter and his. If I choose that he not feel my love, then so be it. It’s not your to question. I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion. God has mercy on whom he wants to have mercy, and he hardens whom he wants to harden.”

“I see. Am I allowed to go out hunting?”

“If you wish.”

“Thank you.” It didn’t hurt to continue the respectful theme.

“You’re very welcome.”

“May I ask why you’ve restricted Jo on that matter? She’s a good hunter, Cas. I got her trained right. Hell, she got the Rufus seal of approval and he didn’t trust much of anyone to have his back. He trusted her.”

Castiel turned, studying her. His lips twitched and he leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “And what of her tendency towards reckless behavior?”

Ellen didn’t reply. He was right. Jo did have a reckless streak. It had gotten smaller the older she got, but it was still there.

“You do see it there in her?”

She nodded once, a stilted nod.

“You do realize she’ll continue such behavior?”

It was a guarantee. “I suppose so.”

“I know so.” He straightened. “I can’t have her running off, getting killed, and making me have to put her back together over and over. I can’t spend my time watching over her alone just in case she chooses to be reckless. Dean shouldn’t have to go through that again, her dying.” He leaned against the fence. “Dean’s experienced more loss than most people ever do. He should have some reprieve and it’s within my power to give him that.”

“What if for some reason Dean needs her there while he and Sam are out?”

He appeared to consider the question. “If Dean needs her for matters besides hunting, she may go. There are rules Jo must follow this time. You’re her mother, Ellen. You understand how a parent is with a child and the guidelines we must give. If she can’t -- or won’t -- behave herself, I will adjust her attitude for her own good.”

“And Dean’s,” she added softly, seeing just how his mind was working on this matter. It really was all about Dean to him and keeping Dean happy on some level. In Castiel’s own way, he was trying to negate some of the emotional turmoil and stress Dean felt, attempting to heal a part of that pain. He was just going about it the wrong way and she found his blindness on the subject of Dean’s happiness a bit disturbing. Having Sam whole again would take much of Dean’s pain away at present. Shouldn’t he know that?

“Correct. And Dean’s. I’m glad you recognize that. He certainly doesn’t and I doubt Jo recognizes what is done for her own good either.”

His stare turned towards her, waiting for a reply and she shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Jo can be stubborn sometimes.”

“Yes. Understand that I don’t want to hurt you, but if I have to I’ll discipline you all.” He faced the field again, resting his hands on the fence. “If you truly want what’s best for her, and I know you do because you’re her mother, then you’ll encourage her to behave, to consider all she’s gained with a snap of my fingers and all that can be taken away.”

He was trying to make her an accomplice, appealing to her motherly instincts and Ellen suddenly knew that, whatever else he said or reason he gave, this was why he’d raised her. He wanted her to do exactly what she’d always done: protect Jo, only he wanted her to protect Jo from her own tendencies. Castiel wanted her to take his side in this and she wondered just what he’d do if he decided she wasn’t on his side. Snap her out of existence again? Give her an attitude adjustment?

She wet her lips and squared her shoulders. “Cas, I have to ask. Have you looked at Sam at all? Can he be healed?”

Now he turned away. Clouds crept across the sky in a rush and the wind began to pick up. “Sam is a completely different topic to discuss on many levels. Ask about something else, Ellen, or this dialogue is terminated.”

“I think I’ve enough to ponder on for awhile.”

His head tipped back slightly. “You may call on me when you have more questions. Perhaps you can convince Dean that he should resume his prayers if he wishes to be blessed.”

Before she could reply or even form any kind of reply, Castiel was gone and the wind and clouds with him. Ellen remained where she was awhile longer, thinking on what he’d said, but no matter which way she looked at it, they were all screwed one way or another.

Chapter 7

There had been no compassion in his eyes. That was perhaps the worst of it for Ellen and the thing she kept returning to the days after her short chat with Castiel. The being she’d briefly known was gone and she honestly wasn’t sure how to approach him again. She’d gone out there with good intentions and a plan and with just a few words and glances from him, she’d discarded that plan.

It had been quickly apparent that he wasn’t going to listen to her no matter what she said. His quotations from the Bible told her that. Why should “the potter” listen to “the clay” and all that. He was living in his fantasy about being Cas Almighty God, unwilling to consider that perhaps he’d better look out for some karmic retribution in the future. Ellen thought that when it finally came, and she had no doubt it would eventually, it’d be a humdinger of a whipping. Some day, Castiel was going to get quite a spanking because Ellen didn’t believe he was God. He was a messed up former angel hopped up on Purgatory souls thinking he was God.

Lordy, this is fine mess we’re all in, she thought, casting a glance towards the desk, where Jo had begun spending most of her days and evenings.

Jo and Dean were doing a fine dance around each other while trying to look like they weren’t. It was helping that Dean and Sam were gone on jobs at present, but Ellen wondered how Dean and Jo were planning on convincing Castiel they were buckling down per his orders. It was obvious, to Ellen at least, that nothing was happening between them. Maybe a kiss or two if anything.

It wasn’t her business though. She turned as much of a blind eye as she could to their relationship boundaries. While she understood what Castiel wanted from her, reigning Jo in wasn’t her task anymore. Jo was a grown woman and, as much as Ellen hated to admit it, could handle whatever consequences came about from her actions by herself. Still, she made sure to give the appearance of compliance by saying cautioning words that brought either a roll of Jo’s eyes or a sigh when she thought Ellen wasn’t looking.

She was watching something on the computer screen right now, a yellow legal pad to one side. Periodically, Jo would jot down notes, an expression of intense concentration on her face. Ellen knew she could set a bomb off beside her daughter right now and Jo would only glance at whatever carnage ensued before returning to her self-imposed task.

And what was that task? Ellen had asked out of sheer curiosity and gotten an earful about female stereotypes and clueless supernatural beings before Jo admitted she was watching old sitcoms and dramas from the Fifties and Sixties when she wasn’t continuing Sam’s research on methods of killing obscure beings. Hulu and Netflix were getting a lot of traffic from her at all hours of day and night. Her notes on the legal pad? Pages of describing how the women had talked, dressed, and behaved. Ellen had tried to tell her it was all fiction and to take it with a grain of salt, to which Jo replied with a calm smirk, “like he’ll know the difference,” the ‘he’ in question being Castiel. He wanted Dean to have a proper wife and Jo had decided she’d give it to him in an effort to make Castiel complacent enough to relax his vigilance on them.

Heaven help them all. She could almost see Castiel’s pleased smile. Ellen only hoped Dean would see the humor in it like Bobby was.

Her glance turned to the window and she leaned close to look out in the direction of where Bobby was working today. That man was as bad as the boys sometimes. He was encouraging Jo in it. He’d even gone up to his attic and brought down a box of clothes and linens for Jo to do what she wanted with them. His reasoning was that it was keeping Jo occupied and out of trouble until they could all get a good handle on the situation.

Ellen thought they already had a handle on it. They were screwed, what more was there to consider?

She sighed and sat down at the table with another cup of coffee, flipping open the file she’d been working on. So far, all she had was a bunch of speculation and maybe wrapped up with the pretty bow of possibility. Not her most promising case, but it was something to keep her busy.

“What do you think?” Jo was standing in the doorway, a frilly apron tied around her waist. She twirled. “Too much or just enough? There are a couple others in the box, but this is the girliest.”

“Why do you need to wear an apron? You don’t cook unless I make you.”

“You know why.”

“Stereotype, Jo. You’re getting carried away with this.”

She took off the apron and slid into the chair across from Ellen, dumping the apron on the table. “I’ve not yet begun to get carried away.”

“Oh?” She raised her brows. “You got more plans?”

“By the time I’m done he’ll think I’m wife of the century and the best idea he’s had since he’s been…you know. Almighty.”

“Be careful,” she warned, seeing Jo’s reckless streak beginning to come out in the open. “I don’t want any incidents.”

“Neither do I. Of course I’m careful, mom. He can’t say I’m not trying either, because everything can be for Dean’s benefit. I’m watching these shows, but I’m only trying to understand how a wife should act. The proper wife, like Castiel wants me to be for Dean. If I cook for Dean, he’s getting a proper meal. If I dress like them, it’ll appeal to….” Jo broke off, a tiny flush spreading on her cheeks. “Never mind.” She dragged the folder closer. “What are you working on?”

She got the idea though. Appeal to Dean’s libido was what Jo meant. Ellen had long suspected Dean was the type of guy to appreciate the different ways women dressed -- or undressed. If Jo appealed to the libido, it’d make their interactions more convincing. “Looks like a vengeful spirit, but I don’t have nearly enough to go on even with research. Just a few clippings. It was a way to get my feet wet before diving.”

Jo was all business, slowly going through the clippings. She tapped her finger on one, turned to another, frowned and shook her head. Probably seeing what Ellen did: a folder of nothing to go on. “Any local legends that fit?”

“I do know how to do this, you know. No, no legends, no stories of any kind, just the current reports. Only thing of interest is the unsolved triple homicide from eighty years ago, but even that doesn’t fit.”

“Go check it out.” She returned the folder to Ellen. “I’ll be fine here.”

“Jo.”

“What? I’m not nearly ready to implement any of my strategy and besides, I can’t implement until Dean and Sam come back and that’ll be at least another week, maybe two or three. Go hunt. You deserve to do this. You want to go, then go. You got the Cas seal of approval even.”

She left the next morning, glad to be heading back into familiar territory.

~~~~~~~~~~

A month passed. Three weeks of that month, Dean and Sam were on the road. Sam’s hallucinations continued daily and Dean, desperate to find some sort of pattern and therefore anticipate them, began to chart them in earnest. The average appeared to be two a day, usually Lucifer and sometimes lasting half the day, which was an increase in length save that one day when Dean had confronted Sam over them. Occasionally, the cryptic Chuck hallucination appeared, telling Sam things like ‘focus’ and ‘look at it all objectively and you’ll see it’.

Focus on what? Look and see what? What was he supposed to be seeing? Was it something about Castiel or something about himself? Could be either, both together, or neither. Chuck seemed to be trying to give Sam some sort of direction, but it’d be far more helpful if the hallucination would say things straight. The idea that one hallucination could be warning Sam about the other stayed with Dean, an idea he couldn’t shake. Sam had indicated that Lucifer wasn’t aware of the second hallucination. That alone brought up more questions about the working of Sam’s mind at present, questions Dean had no answer for. He still had no idea what Chuck was supposed to represent -- if anything.

If Sam wasn’t hallucinating people, he was hallucinating hell itself. He’d admitted to thinking their motel room was on fire more than once and had thought he was being tortured by not just Lucifer, but Michael as well. His description of being tormented by two pissed off archangels had given Dean flashbacks to Alistair’s attentions. They’d had to leave that motel. Constant screaming in the middle of the night hadn’t endeared them to anyone there.

They kept on the move those weeks, stopping only when a case presented itself, Dean reluctant to head back to Bobby’s and the whole crap storm that was waiting there. That’s what the situation with Jo was, a crap storm that could bury them all if he and Jo were unable to convince Cas they were complying with his orders.

Castiel didn’t like it when his orders weren’t obeyed. He liked to play the wrathful God card and was getting rather good at it.

If Dean wasn’t dreaming about hell, syncing nicely with Sam’s nightmares and hallucinations, he was dreaming about all the things that could go wrong with Jo and Ellen, especially Jo.

He hadn’t planned on kissing her, not like that. He’d known they had to sell the ‘relationship’ to Castiel, yet a part of him hadn’t understood what actually kissing her meant.

Dean turned his face into the shower spray and let the water wash down him.

It meant he could easily get as attached to her as he had Lisa, maybe…maybe even more attached. Every kiss was going to build that attachment because he really was desperate for something good in his life right now and Jo Harvelle was good. She’d always been something good, a breath of innocence, of sweetness. Growing as a hunter hadn’t taken that from her.

Jo wasn’t like Lisa. She wasn’t going to sit back and try to keep him calm by downplaying the danger he knew was out there because she didn’t understand it fully. Jo understood the danger. She’d ask how bad it was, accept it, and plan with him how they were going to deal with it, like now. She wasn’t going to be content keeping home fires burning. She’d get herself back in somehow despite Castiel’s mandate and was likely working towards that end already. She wasn’t Lisa, was as far from who Lisa was as the sun was different from the moon.

Kissing Jo had been an impulse right then, one that had ended in the realization that, even though he was still grieving for the loss of his year with Lisa, he wanted to kiss Jo again, really kiss her. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, and feel her response. He wanted her to press against him, whether she meant it or not. Castiel was actually right, he thought, hating that truth even as he acknowledged it. Physical need was definitely there and Jo caused a rise. If he closed his eyes, he could easily picture her bare back with the covers riding low or that vulnerable look she had first thing in the morning when she opened her eyes.

He even yearned a tiny bit for a timeline where they could try the relationship thing without Castiel’s order…and without her death to begin with. Dean yearned for a different life completely.

Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he’d been wanting what he didn’t have so much that he never saw what was already there until it was gone.

The thought made him lean against the shower wall and he groaned, staring down at the gold band on his finger. The last thing he needed right now was to start thinking they could have something together. Castiel’s declaration of their ‘marriage’ meant nothing. He didn’t need to start thinking it did. They weren’t married, they weren’t a couple, and it wasn’t possible with the sort of life they all led. He knew it.

But knowing didn’t mean he couldn’t wish just a little for that life they’d never really have. Trying to have that life was the mistake he’d made with Lisa. He wasn’t going to make it with Jo, too.

They returned to Bobby’s house at the end of those weeks to find Jo at the desk, books piled around her and her doing some sort of research while Ellen slammed things around in the kitchen and mumbled about her idiotic, reckless daughter.

Bobby was on the couch, calmly reading the paper, like this was an everyday scene.

Dean approached him. “Don’t everyone greet us at once.”

“What’s going on,” Sam asked, setting his bag down.

“Talk some sense into her,” Ellen called out.

“Jo took up Sam’s research on killing divine beings while you were gone,” Bobby turned a page of the paper with an unconcerned air, “you know, since Cas is off healing the sick in Africa rather publicly.”

They’d known that. It had been on all the news for days, images and video of Castiel working his way through villages, people trailing behind him like he was the Pied Piper of Hamlin. There’d been close-ups of him with children and of him sitting with the elderly. His people skills appeared to be improving. There’d been long reports of him addressing the world, much of it live, and his church was scrambling to get people over to where he was to show how supportive and in tune they were with God Cas.

Jo suddenly sat back and stared at them. She licked her lips and frowned. “When did you get back?”

“A couple minutes,” Sam replied.

“Cas still on the live broadcast?”

“No,” Ellen came to the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. “I told you half an hour ago he disappeared, but oh, no, you had one more thing to look up.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, crap!” She began slamming books, shoving papers in a folder, and tidying the area. Quickly, she had the desk fairly neat and got up. She was wearing some sort of old-fashioned dress with an apron tied around her waist.

It wasn’t Halloween, so Dean wondered what the explanation was. He suspected he was going to get one soon. Not that it didn’t look good on her. It did. It just wasn’t her normal style of clothing. When she wore a dress, it was short, tight, and black. Dean glanced at Sam.

Sam’s eyes widened at her outfit and he chuckled. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” Jo came to Dean and hugged him like she did that every day. Raising up on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his lips and smoothed his shirt. Her bright smile reminded him of Philadelphia of all things and he smelled a faint whiff of what he thought was mothballs mixed with her perfume. “How’d the hunt go, sweetheart? Was it good? Did you kill whatever it was? Save the damsel…or whatever the male equivalent is? Tell me all about it.” She half turned, directing the same smile briefly in Sam’s direction. “Hi, Sam. You’re looking rested today. Are you sleeping?”

“Hi.” He held up a hand in greeting. “Uh…yeah, I’m sleeping. Sleeping pills about every other night for the past week.”

“I force feed them to him,” Dean said. After the pissed off archangel hallucination, Dean had gotten sleeping pills for the both of them. He’d had to do some fast talking to get Sam to take even one of the pills, but when he finally had (probably to shut Dean up), it had given Sam a reprieve at night. He slept through instead of waking to hallucinate dangerous things around three. Of course, he couldn’t take them every night, but a night here and there with good sleep could only help the situation in Dean’s opinion. They’d both had a few good nights now.

“So, Dean, did you get hurt? Need a shoulder rub? Back rub?” She slid her hand across his chest and with a quirked brow asked, “something else rubbed?”

Bobby coughed and turned another page of the paper.

Ellen slammed a cupboard door.

“No, I know exactly what my man needs after a hard couple weeks out on the job.” Jo pulled away, went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bottle of beer. “Here. Ice cold,” she coaxed in a sing-song voice.

“Cas been by to visit recently,” Dean asked, recalling that offer he’d made to change her mind.

“Nope,” Jo replied, smile still bright and now mildly unnerving in cheeriness.

Dean took the bottle. “You…smack your head on something while we were gone?”

“No.” She went back to smoothing his shirt across his chest. “But I did watch a lot of hours of Fifties and Sixties family sitcoms on the computer to really understand my new role in life.”

“Uh-huh. You know he doesn’t usually get sarcasm either, right?”

Jo’s bright smile faded a little. “I know he won’t get it, but it makes me less angry at him and the whole situation, so just go with it, okay, sweetheart?” She patted his chest.

Ellen was shaking her head and he got the impression Jo had been practicing this routing for three weeks. Dean smiled, as overly cheery as Jo was being. “Sure thing, honeybunch.”

“Oh, don’t encourage her,” Ellen snapped. “Of all the bad ideas she’s ever had, this is high on the list.”

“Why do you say that, Ellen?” Sam stepped over to her, perusing Jo with amused eyes as he passed her. “Looks harmless.”

“Yeah, looks. It started out fine, I’ll give her that, but this?” She gestured. “This isn’t my daughter and he’ll know it. Drop the Stepford Wife act, Jo. You have to be yourself.”

Jo’s glance slid sideways in Ellen’s direction. “Mom.”

“Joanna Beth.” Ellen crossed her arms. “Will use the brain I know you have? I didn’t raise a stupid kid.”

With a sigh, Jo admitted, “maybe the dress is a little much, but if Dean likes it….”

He opened the beer, took a swig, and held up his hands. “This is your thing, not mine.”

She leaned in close, raising up on tiptoe to put her cheek by his, and whispered. “It could be our thing.” The remark was flirtatious, but he got the feeling it was just for effect should Cas be there listening.

He turned his head a fraction, noticed that while her voice was full of flirt, her gaze wasn’t. He was right. All for effect. She wanted him to play along a little. “It is a pretty dress,” he conceded.

Leaning back, she put her hands on her hips. “If you say change back into jeans, I’ll go change. You know, to keep my man happy.”

Sam snickered.

“Don’t change the way you dress for me.”

Ellen grunted. “It’s settled then. Jo, go change and help me get dinner on the table. I’m sure the boys are hungry and I doubt they’ve had a proper meal since they left.”

Jo went to the stairs and started up them. It looked like she was even sashaying a bit and Dean admired the view until she was out of sight.

“Some mood she’s in today,” Sam remarked, taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

Bobby lowered the paper. “Same mood she’s been in the past week since Ellen got back.”

“Where’d you go,” Dean asked, going to the table and sitting down. Ellen was already filling plates. She took one in to Bobby before stopping to answer.

“Found a job to go on. It was nothing much, but it kept me busy. Felt good to be out there.”

“I’ll bet it did.” Sam moved to help Ellen and seemed surprised when she shooed him away.

“Go sit. This is Jo’s job. Let her get this all out of her system.”

When Castiel arrived, it was almost as though Jo had planned the scene. Dean had a plate in front of him piled with food (a traditional meatloaf dinner with all the fixings), a beer to one side, and Jo was standing behind him slowly rubbing his shoulders. She was good at it, too.

He wondered just how many of those shows and movies she’d watched and what he could expect the next couple days as they regrouped.

Sam was across from him at the table and Ellen at the end between them, while Bobby was in his chair eating off a tv tray. The table really wasn’t big enough for all of them, what with the one end piled with phone books, books, and papers.

“This is an excellent beginning,” Castiel remarked. “Far more already than I’d hoped to see.”

Jo’s thumbs really attacked one knot by Dean’s shoulder blade, as if in response to Castiel’s pleased musing. His back already felt more relaxed than it had in weeks. If Jo kept it up, he might not need a sleeping pill tonight.

“I’m pleased with these efforts.” Castiel’s attention was on Jo, his smile so smug that Dean imagined Jo wanted to kick Cas in the teeth -- while wearing steel-toed boots. “You look very nice, Jo.”

Yeah, he still didn’t get sarcasm. Dean took a swig from his beer.

“Thank you,” Jo replied, all sweetness and light while her thumbs were taking care of those knots in Dean’s back with quick efficiency.

Sam’s fork clattered against his plate.

“This is as it should be. A cohesive unit.” Reaching around Ellen, he set a rectangular box beside her plate. The box was about the size of a business envelope and several inches in depth. “A present for you, Ellen.”

With a startled glance up at him, Ellen opened the box, her lips parting as the contents were revealed. Dean saw slips of paper, pictures, and Ellen drew out a wedding band that he realized must have been Bill’s. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you is the usual response,” Castiel prodded, still looking smug.

“Well, thanks. I’d wondered what happened to these.” She held up a picture so first Sam, then Dean and Jo could see it. “Bill holding Jo. She was only a few days old.”

Castiel’s attention slid back up to Jo. “While the trivial items from your life are best left behind, the things most important to you should be returned. Those things are important to you, Ellen.”

Jo’s hands faltered against his back, the massage slowing until it stopped altogether.

One hand dipped into his coat pocket and Castiel held up an item so they all could see it. Ellen gasped. It was the knife Jo had carried, the one that had belonged to her father. Slowly, Cas set it on the table. “For you, Jo. This is the possession you meant when we spoke that day?”

She slid into the chair beside Dean. “Another bribe,” she asked, her voice quivering just a little.

“A gift. Accept it or no, it won’t be taken back. I thought on what you said and on the items you’d carried. This was the single thing that meant the most to you. Am I in error?”

“No.” It looked like it pained her to admit it, her calm expression slipping.

“Then you want it back?”

Jo stared at the knife, then at Castiel, her poker face beginning to slide away completely now. Her lips tightened. Dean could see the desire to grab the knife in her eyes. “I can’t accept it,” she said, crossing her arms.

Dean understood the motive behind the gift as quickly as Jo had and was sure Sam, Ellen, and Bobby did, too. The knife hadn’t been meant for a gift, not really, but rather a test of what she’d do and where she was in acceptance of that reason he’d raised her. Would she take it and attack? Take it and bide her time? Or let it go and her past with it?

His hate for Castiel increased. This test was sadistic. Mean for the sake of being mean. He was throwing it in her face that she wasn’t supposed to be hunting anymore, trying to break her spirit and it was all Dean could do not to say anything. He could see that same restraint on Ellen and Sam’s faces.

Castiel moved around the table and crouched down beside Jo. “Why is that,” he asked in a pleasant tone. The smugness had gone from his eyes and what was left was the cold, cruel taunting light that was usually present when he worked at Sam. “Why can’t you accept your father’s knife? Isn’t it your most prized possession?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Because if I take it, you’ll think I plan on hunting whether I really do or not.” Jo shook her head as she opened her eyes. “This isn’t a gift for good behavior or a bribe. It’s trap.”

“A test. One you’ve passed.” Raising a hand, Castiel touched her cheek. “Sharp as ever, I see. Remember your place.”

It was a warning, clear and simple.

Now he stood. “Dean, you’ll keep the knife for her. I think it’s fitting that her husband carry it.”

Getting up, Jo hurried from the room, and up the stairs. A moment later, the bedroom door slammed.

Reaching out, Dean picked up the knife. He looked at Ellen, who gave him a slow, weary nod of consent. Across from him, Sam stared at Castiel. He had the oddest feeling that it wasn’t just Sam looking out of his eyes right then. Calculation flared quickly and was gone, Sam returning his attention to his food.

When Dean glanced back towards Castiel, he found him gone. Feeling rebellious, he followed Jo up to the bedroom and tucked the knife safely away in one of the hidden pockets in her favorite jacket.

“You’re not being a very good husband,” she remarked with a tired smile at the gesture. “You’re supposed to keep that for me.”

“Yeah, well…. Best you learn I’m a bad seed now, right?” He laid the jacket aside. “It’s yours, Jo. I won’t take it away.”

“I know.” She sighed and slumped a little. “Does he even realize how he’s contradicting himself? The giving with one hand and taking away with the other? What’s the point?”

The taking away appeared to be focused on Jo and Sam at present. “I think he’s still too full of himself to understand that, but I think his point is to break you down. Make you compliant.”

“He reminds me of a pagan god I met once.” She sat up straight and turned her head to look at him. “I killed that god.”

“Maybe we’ll kill this one.”

He stayed there with her instead of going back downstairs, giving her a recap of the past weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t wanted to discipline Jo Harvelle. She’d been doing what she was supposed to, yet Castiel knew she needed a firm hand and preventative measures. She was a strong-willed woman and he knew also that Dean would let some matters slide that he shouldn’t let slide simply because he cherished that trait in her. Dean liked her strong will.

So, he made it clear once more what her status was and once he was certain she’d gotten the message, he took a tour of the area, noting one of his churches had been started in town, before returning for the real reason he’d come: Sam.

Sam Winchester was a problem.

Jo’s streak of hard-headedness was mild compared to the trouble Sam was.

Castiel did know just what Sam meant to Dean and that making him whole would put Dean in a state of pure joy. He wasn’t stupid. He understood that. He understood what fixing Sam would mean.

But he couldn’t get over Sam stabbing him in the back. Nor could he get over how Sam looked at him sometimes, like he knew everything Cas had done to get where he was and was judging him on those things. Sometimes, he thought it wasn’t even Sam looking out of those eyes, yet he knew it was Sam at the same time.

A part of him, a small part, admitted that he wished he’d never raised Sam to begin with. That part raged with jealousy.

Cas now knew that jealousy was what he’d felt towards Sam all along, from the very moment he’d realized how important Sam was to Dean. He’d always been jealous of Sam on some level, which had surprised him at first to understand. As an angel he shouldn’t have felt jealousy, yet he had. It was why he’d been so reluctant to embrace Sam as a friend the way he had Dean and why he’d held himself back for so long. He’d wanted to be the one with the special bond with Dean. Becoming God had shown him all of that. He’d finally understood his own motivations.

He was jealous…but he’d still raised Sam for Dean because it was what Dean had wanted the most.

Now, he accepted his jealousy.

He was a jealous God, but even a jealous god had to accept his subjects had others in their lives and Dean had Sam. He wanted him whole. Castiel knew it was Dean’s current wish. If he fixed Sam, Dean would be in his debt, as would Sam. The two would owe him and be grateful. Castiel wanted that gratitude.

However…. Castiel frowned. He’d been trying to fix Sam. Every time he’d touched Sam since becoming God he’d attempted to fix him and only made it worse somehow, a puzzling thing he couldn’t begin to explain. He was God and had a problem he couldn’t fix. He had to fix it somehow or accept that maybe, possibly, he wasn’t God after all. The only acceptable option was to fix him and it had to be merely that he hadn’t figured out the proper way yet because he was God.

Hence…Sam was a problem.

Castiel stood over Sam, watching him sleep. Why couldn’t he at least put up a wall like Death had to contain the hallucinations? It should be a snap to build. After all, he’d raised Ellen and Jo just fine. Sam’s mind should be nothing, but….

There was resistance.

Each time he tried to fix that and put him to rights, the resistance shifted, like a bullet he couldn’t quite grasp to dig out or oil sliding about in water. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying hard enough or that he didn’t have enough power. He should have the power. Sam’s mind should be nothing and yet….

Crouching down, he stretched out a hand, intending on attempting once more to fix the problem.

Something fell behind him and he swiveled towards the sound. There was no one there, yet in the middle of the floor was a book. Castiel peered about the room, feeling like he was being watched, which was bizarre. He was the new God. He should be able to see any one or thing that was there and there was only thin air. So how did that book get there? It was too far in the center of the room to have fallen from the desk or shelves.

Doubts assailed him and he reached out, picking up the book and standing. He held it in both hands, studying it.

It was a Bible, very old and written in tiny print. The lettering was gold, the cover leather.

He swallowed hard. Picking it up felt very much like he was accepting a challenge. Strange. He was setting it on the desk so he could return to trying to fix Sam when a sharp pain pierced his belly. He pressed a hand to it, grimacing. At the second pain, he dropped the Bible and hurried outside, barely reaching the night air before vomiting up gobs of gray that looked like pudding.

He couldn’t stop the heaving, falling hard to his knees.

Panic assailed him and he groaned, wanting it to just end already. With a final choking cry, it did end, a sour taste in the back of his mouth. The globs coalesced into a single puddle and arced up into the sky like all the others had done.

This isn’t normal, he thought, fear beginning to really churn inside him. He felt weak and tired, drained. Nausea churned in his stomach and he pushed to his feet, staggering when his legs felt weak. He pressed a hand to his stomach and swallowed hard.

He felt as though he’d failed his first duel against an opponent he’d never seen, the familiar sensation of humiliation sliding through him. Raphael had once made certain Castiel knew what humiliation felt like and this was humiliation of an even higher degree. Somehow, someway, he’d just been punched.

Bewildered by that, Castiel fled to another location.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam.

The whisper was soft, coaxing.

Come here.

The voice was there before the images began, gentle and welcoming, calling to him.

Sam dreamed of a hallway. It was a long hallway, softly lit, with a tile floor, beige walls, white ceiling, and doors lining both sides. Those doors were closed. At the far end he could make out a final door, open. A brighter light spilled into the hallway from there. Bricks were scattered about on the floor. He could see that most of the bricks were at the far end, smell the dust. As he stood, the light dimmed, a buzzing sound beginning, the sort of buzzing from a fluorescent light about to burn out. A reddish haze took over his vision and he smelled the coppery scent of blood. A shadow fell on one side of the hallway and grew, angel wings, large and wide, distorted by the light. He whirled….

A thump woke him. Sam opened his eyes. He saw Castiel crouched down, facing away from him. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to know what Castiel was doing there while they slept and especially what he was doing there beside him.

He saw Cas move towards the desk, something in hand. That something dropped to the desk as Castiel hurried from the house. It looked like he was in extreme pain and Sam hoped that was true. He hoped Castiel was having some consequences for the things he’d been doing and that he was in agony. There was the sound of someone clearing his throat and Sam glanced back at the desk.

Chuck was there, leaning against it with arms and ankles crossed. His gaze was concerned. “Keep your focus, Sam. One thing at a time. What aren’t you seeing here? What aren’t you remembering? You know more than you think.” He moved to the window and looked out, then disappeared.

The implication was that he was blocking out something important or could see it already yet didn’t understand the importance. Frustration welled up inside him and he got up. There was no way he was getting back to sleep now. He found the folder he’d been putting his notes in and opened it up. No time like the present to see if Jo had managed to add anything.

Chapter 8

While it was rather tempting to disappear into the bedroom after dinner and stay there until morning, Jo knew that would cause trouble as well. She didn’t think Castiel would believe they spent all their time in there having sex. It wasn’t believable no matter what Dean’s past was. Neither would he approve of them spending hours alone in the room. He’d become suspicious and that was the last thing they wanted right now.

So she forced herself not to hide away, trying to remember how she’d seen her parents behave with each other before her dad had died. It was little stuff she and Dean did when they were in the same room: holding hands, sitting close, and while she thought they were good at those things, they were the pits with kisses. When they kissed, it was like Dean was afraid he’d break her, consistently bittersweet in tone. Another no-no. They needed to show something more, to “sell it” as he’d put it and they weren’t, both of them falling down on the job. It was one more thing they needed to talk about and had been avoiding. There were the details of Lisa and Ben to discuss, the family Dean and Sam had gained and lost to ask about, and more. She knew her reasons for avoiding that talk, but what were Dean’s? Was it all the emotional pain he felt or were there other reasons?

She knew they needed that in-depth talk and had been thinking about it, trying to anticipate what Castiel might do and the things he might ask from both of them.

Jo sat beside Dean on the couch, legs curled up to one side. His arm was around her, hand resting on her shoulder, and he flipped through an old journal while she watched tv. The news had made no mention of God Castiel making any appearances and she hadn’t bothered to change the channel though she wasn’t interested in the drama that had come on. She’d spaced out a little instead, thinking on the talk, that next move she and Dean needed to make. It wasn’t going to be easy to broach the subject of Lisa and Ben Braeden and she dreaded it, yet tactically, it needed to be done. It had to look like he was sharing things with her. Castiel had to think he’d done the right thing in raising her.

Bobby had left earlier to pick up a vehicle and Sam had gone with him. It had looked to Jo like Bobby wanted some time to talk to Sam alone. He’d asked him to go, muttered something about Sam’s strength, then ordered Dean to play house with her while they were gone. Ellen was out somewhere. She’d neglected to tell either of them where she was going and Jo suspected she hadn’t had any plan at all. Bobby’s house, once a refuge, had quickly become claustrophobic for them all, Bobby included.

A chill slid down her back. The room seemed suddenly too quiet, despite the droning of the drama on the tv and she thought she could feel a presence there with them. Jo was learning not to discount that feeling. Each time she’d had it, Castiel had shown up not long after.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her right ear. She was going to play the little obedient wife card as long as possible and still had a few more things to set up. Dean was okay with her plan, but he, like Ellen, told her to be careful. They’d talked the night before about it, after he’d told her about the weeks he and Sam had been gone. They’d sat side by side on the bed, Jo outlining her basic plan of being the sort of wife Castiel wanted for him in order to lull Cas into complacency. They’d agreed that it was the best plan for her at present and one that could be altered as they gained information. She’d pretend she was trying her best to adapt to the role of wife and Dean would pretend he was enjoying having a wife. They’d share information and ideas in the room alone and, when Castiel was on live tv, they’d share all that with the others.

It had been nice to hear something besides defeat, doom, and gloom from his lips. He’d sounded more positive than he had the day Castiel had raised her. Figuring out how to talk in secret to Sam, Bobby, and Ellen had helped.

Jo laid her head on Dean’s shoulder. His hand raised from her shoulder, touched her hair, and returned to her shoulder, squeezing a little. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the warmth of his body. It was nice to be held, especially by someone who knew her past, understood who she was, and accepted her. Not to mention he smelled pretty good. After a moment, she sat up, studying him. He was so different from the young man she’d first met at the Roadhouse, a man now weighed down and heavy by the trouble in the world.

Sometimes, she could almost see that young man from before with her. In the morning, the light would hit his face just right so that he appeared much younger than he was. There’d be a softness to his features that wasn’t there the rest of the day. She preferred the morning the best, when he was waking from sleep and not yet remembering that weight upon his shoulders.

Occasionally, Jo wondered if they had the choice to go back to that moment they’d met having the knowledge they now held, would they have done anything differently? Would they have tried to have something personal knowing the choice would be taken away in an instant?

He was frowning at something on the page, stubble from the long day dark on his jaw. With a sigh, he shut the journal and looked at her. “I got a big heap of nothing. Anything interesting on the news?”

“No. The news was over almost an hour ago. Same old, same old.”

He checked his watch. “Oh. Anything interesting on?”

“No. Just some stupid drama. Whose journal are you checking?”

“It’s one of the ones Rufus left behind. Thought he may have run across something that might help with what we’ve been seeing. You know, that new thing.”

It was a pretty roundabout way to indicate Castiel and she understood who he meant. It was a matter of self-preservation to talk around his name with creative uses of phrases. “He did work in different circles.” Rufus had always seemed to go up against things Jo had thought were extinct, then acted like it was nothing. It made sense to check his journals, but she’d thought Sam had already gone through them. “Didn’t Sam read them already?”

“He wasn’t looking for what I am.”

Jo shrugged off his hand at her shoulder and turned on the couch to face him. “What are you looking for?”

He didn’t answer the question. “It was a long-shot. Dad knew more than us, Bobby more than dad, Rufus more than him….” He tossed the journal to one side. “I thought I might find a different tactic to try.” Reaching out a hand, he touched her face, a finger tracing her features: the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw. His thumb swept along her lower lip. “Come here.”

Even when it was the two of them, they tried to show affection in case Castiel was there watching, yet suddenly, Jo couldn’t take another sweet, gentle kiss that made her remember Carthage. It was time they moved on from that place and if she had to take the initiative on this, then so be it. Leaning forward, she kissed him the way she’d once dreamed he’d kiss her, as though eager for more. He tasted like the pie and ice cream they’d had after dinner: peach, vanilla, and a hint of nutmeg -- or was it her imagination? When she sat back, he looked stunned and Jo made a quick decision. She stood and grasped his hands in hers, tugging him to stand. “Come on. We’ve got the house to ourselves. What are we doing sitting here watching tv?”

“Being an old married couple,” he replied, letting her pull him towards the stairs and up them.

“We should save that for when we are an old married couple. Surely we can still count as newlyweds?”

At the top of the stairs, she turned…and caught a glimpse of Castiel at the bottom of the stairs watching them. He was spying again and she pretended she hadn’t seen him, grabbing Dean’s shirt and shoving him against the wall, like she couldn’t wait to get him into the bedroom. He responded by cupping her face and kissing her properly, the way she’d kissed him downstairs.

Somewhere in the middle of that kiss, or string of kisses, rather, with his tongue in her mouth and one hand sliding beneath her shirt, Jo realized how easy it’d be to lose control of this. They were already dangerously close to that line. She was close to that line.

He grasped her waist, body nudging hers towards the door of their room. Jo went willingly because the sooner they were away from Castiel’s line of sight, the better. They were a powder keg ready to blow and she had no idea how they’d gotten there, kisses morphing into sheer desire. Had this been waiting all along? Dean nibbled a line along her jaw and down her neck and Jo gasped in a breath, groping along the door with one hand for the door handle. She found the door handle, turned it, and then they were moving into the room.

Dean slammed the door without letting loose of her and Jo knew she had to stop this or things were going to get more complicated than they needed very fast. But she didn’t want to pull away. She wanted to sink against him and say to hell with her morals and the conviction she’d had that there should be more than physical attraction. His hands returned to her face and he drew back a fraction before resting his forehead against hers. His fast breaths mingled with hers and Jo grasped his forearms in her hands. It would be so easy to lean forward again and touch her lips to his. “Tell me no,” he ordered in a voice that sounded as shaky as she was feeling.

She licked her lips.

“Jo,” he prompted. “Tell me no.”

“No,” she whispered, a refusal of his order to refuse, yet he took it as fulfillment of that order.

He released her, held his hands out to his sides, and for once, Jo couldn’t read the expression on his face. “I think we managed to be convincing.”

Jo crossed her arms over her breasts, still feeling the ghost of his touch against her. “I think so.” She backed up, retreating around the bed to stand by the boarded up window. She needed time alone to handle what had just happened and wasn’t going to get it, so she swallowed hard and tried to hurry herself through the process. When she looked at Dean, she thought she saw the same thing on his face now, that wondering how they’d gotten to this point in seconds when previous kisses hadn’t had that effect on them.

Easy, she thought. We haven’t been really trying, too afraid of the possibility of…this.

She felt off-kilter then, similar to how she’d felt the day she’d been raised. This was a good thing…and bad at the same time.

“I take it he was watching us?” He threw himself down on the bed, causing the headboard to thump hard against the wall. His hands raised, ran through his hair, then clasped behind his head.

“He’s downstairs. Or he was.”

Dean nodded, staring up at the ceiling. He was quiet for a minute, his words hardly what she was expecting to hear. “It’s no secret I like you, Jo.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t liked me.” Castiel had known of her attraction for him and his for her.

“But we don’t need complicated and we’d be….” He licked his lips. “We’d be complicated.”

She leaned back against the wall. “I agree.” But what a complication he’d be!

When he turned his gaze to her, it was frank and honest. “I don’t think selling it will be our problem anymore. It’s more like --”

“-- getting carried away could --.”

“--be the problem,” he finished for her. “We can’t win for losing, can we?” Before she could reply, he added, “Tell me no every time we get back in this room.”

She shrugged. “If you want.” It wasn’t a promise. She suspected there’d be a day, probably soon, where they’d both want that answer to be yes. She’d be free to say it at that time. Silence descended between them. Jo wrestled with her emotions and impulses and, when she felt calmer, she said, “We need to talk.”

“About?”

“Everything. There’s things you need to tell me that you haven’t. Things I have to know in case he questions me and you know he will eventually. He’ll attempt to determine how close we’re really getting and if you’re sharing the sorts of things he thinks you should.”

“This is why you wanted to come up here?”

“Yes.”

“Shoot.”

“They’re not easy things for me to ask and you to answer,” she warned.

“I said shoot. Ask what you want.”

Jo bit her lip, then said in a soft voice, “You need to tell me about Lisa.”

His features shuttered and he sat up, putting his back to her. “No. Anything else but that. End of subject.”

“Is it? What….” She glanced away, cleared her throat, then looked back. “What do I do if he asks if you’ve shared everything with me and starts in with facts and false facts trying to trip me up?” She shrugged. “Right now I don’t have any idea what that was like for you or what happened besides basic, bare bones. I know you were with her and her son for a little over a year and now you’re not. I know they were used against you and their memories of you are gone. I understand the correlation between them and why he raised me, but I have to have details of what you had with them, the real, gritty details you haven’t told me. You’ve avoided saying anything specific and I get that. I understand it, but…..”

His jaw tightened.

“How would I know what’s truth? He’d catch me in a lie, Dean, and you, Sam, and Bobby are quick to tell us what he does to liars, thieves, murderers…anyone who doesn’t behave the way he wants. You know he’d do something to me.” She took a step forward. “Tell me the personal things, like the perfume she likes, so I can tell him I wear a different one because the other was hers and it hurts you to smell it. Tell me about Ben and a moment or two you were proud of him the way a parent would be. It’s those things I need to convince Castiel we’re real.”

“I told Sam I’d break his nose if he ever mentioned her and Ben again.”

“You going to break my nose like you threatened Sam?” She went around the bed to stand in front of him, daring him to do just that. “Then do it already because I’m going to keep asking until I have the sort of answers I can get through a Cas interrogation with. Do you want me gone again? Us gone again?”

“No.”

“Or do you want us all to survive this?” Jo moved closer, feeling like she had when she’d faced Castiel in that restaurant. She wasn’t certain how Dean would react, even a bit afraid, yet she pushed on. “We have to be united. You know that and that means I have to know details and things a real wife would learn. He has to think you’re opening up to me. I’m sorry to make you say anything when I know you’d rather keep it in, but that’s how it is. You think I want to hear the details? I’d rather not, but we share things whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not. It’s how we’re going to convince him and make it through this.” She didn’t look away from him, staring right at him. “Trust me. Do you trust me?”

His stare was hard and wounded, but he appeared to have gotten her point. “I tell you anything, you keep that information to yourself unless he questions you. You never try to talk about it with me in any way. I don’t want to work through the memories, I just want to forget. You let it go and otherwise pretend neither of them exist -- just like Sam does.”

“I will,” Jo promised and she meant it.

Dean turned his face to the wall and began to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn’t mad at her. Not really. Jo was right. Castiel clearly expected an intimacy between them that they were currently struggling to display. Physical attraction was one matter, emotional things another, and it’d be the emotional ones that’d do the most for them. She was thinking tactically, being smart about it, trying to anticipate Castiel and here he was fighting her on it and being a dumb, stubborn son of a bitch.

She was right. One of these days, probably very soon, Castiel was going to interrogate her and she had to know things, but he hated to delve back into the emotional aspects of all that had happened with Lisa; to admit out loud just how badly he’d failed. He didn’t want Jo to see that part of him and hear the many ways he sucked as a committed boyfriend, not because she wouldn’t understand, but rather because he was ashamed of that failure and how he’d let Lisa and Ben down.

Jo was going to see him for what he was: worthless.

With a hard swallow, he began to tell her those things Cas would expect her to know, details he’d tried to bury and bits of information he hadn’t told anyone. “She didn’t have to take me in, but she did. She knew I was broken.” He didn’t look at Jo until he was done. Only then did he turn his head and realize she’d begun to cry. Tears streamed unchecked down her face. She was crying for him and the understanding of that almost undid the little bit of composure he had left.

Dean stood, putting distance between them. “Now you know,” he choked out. “We done?”

She didn’t say any of the things he expected. No words came from her lips about how it wasn’t his fault or that he’d been irresponsible in letting Castiel wipe their memories. She simply said, “Thank you.”

Those two words deflated his self anger in a rush and he nodded before leaving the bedroom. He needed to be alone for awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a reason Ellen hadn’t told anyone where she was going. She pulled into the parking lot of the Church of Castiel and parked at the far end of the lot. The evening service, which began with a meet and greet, would start in half an hour and she wanted a clear shot out of there when it was over.

Ellen had known Jo and Dean would try and talk her out of this. It was why she hadn’t told them about this visit she’d planned. She wanted to see these people for herself, evaluate personally the sort of threat they could be when they managed to take down Castiel. As fanatical as his church appeared to be, she didn’t think they’d take the deflating of their god lying down.

She turned the car off, squinting at the building. It was one of those prefab constructions that could be thrown up in a matter of days. To each side of the building were cleared areas and she saw they were adding to the building already. Must be growing as fast here as they were the rest of the world. It boggled her mind how fast he’d taken hold of people. Each time he appeared on tv there were reports of new believers and the numbers of attendance at his churches soared.

And he’d only been a god for a short while. It was unreal.

People were in line at the double doors and Ellen joined them. What took the longest was that each person was personally greeted before being led into the building. Her greeter was a young, dark-haired girl who couldn’t be more than nineteen. She handed Ellen a folder and smiled.

“Hi. I’m Megan. Have you found Castiel yet?”

Ellen took the folder. It had a picture of Castiel on it, one taken from the tv news reports, and other pictures also from reports. Sick people, children, the elderly. As propaganda went, it was effective, demonstrating clearly the good he’d been doing. There was no denying that feeding orphans and caring for both the sick and elderly were good things. Where was the balance however? Where was the depiction of his wrath? “It’s more like he found me,” she replied and pushed past before Megan could ask for a ‘testimony’.

It didn’t look like a church exactly, the masses of flowers everywhere reminding her of a flower shop. She vaguely remembered Castiel once saying he liked flowers. He should like this place then.

She found a seat at the back and waited for the service to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

The invitation to ride along with Bobby had been unexpected. Usually, it was Dean he did things like this with. This was the first time in a long time they’d ridden anywhere alone together.

“You okay, Sam?”

He turned his head to look at Bobby, wondering if the question meant right now or just in general. He decided it meant right this moment. “For now.” It was nice to be away from the house and have a purpose that wasn’t hunting. Maybe Jo had a point with their constant focus on the job. Their lives shouldn’t be the job, but too often that was how it was.

“No guests tagging along with us?”

“Not anymore. Big L got bored about an hour ago.”

“Thank heaven for small favors.”

“I know. He said that while Michael was humorless, he was still better company than both of us, went on for a few minutes on how boring we are, then disappeared.”

“Any other problems?”

“You mean am I seeing a half-scorched world with smoldering fires at the edge of my sight? Strangers with fearful eyes calling me names like ‘monster’, ‘demon lover’, and ‘blood drinker’? Creatures I’ve killed telling me it’s their turn to stalk me before I relive hunts where I’m them? Or maybe the Campbells claiming it’s all in the blood while they drink blood from a bowl carved from a human skull and snack on intestines?”

Bobby glanced at him. “Something like that.”

He read Bobby’s expression and laughed a little. “I know. I’ve got issues.”

“Hey, you said it not me.”

“The thing is, a lot of it I know is my mind warping real events or distorting my fears. The Campells, for instance. We had a talk about family and what it is, but we were all drinking beer and eating spaghetti. No blood or intestines anywhere. Those are okay.”

“Okay? I’d say no hallucinations is the okay part, kid.”

“I mean it’s the ones I don’t recognize as memories or fears that are the worst, the ones that take over. The ones where Big L shows up.”

“Whose idea was it to use Big L? Yours or Dean’s?”

“Mine. I’m trying not to use his name.”

“Call the devil by name and there he appears.”

“Yeah.” He licked his lips and slid down in the seat. “No problems like that at the moment. No weird world covering reality, or hooks in my skin, or seeing the after effects of being used as a punching bag by two pissed off archangels, one of whom was still wearing my half-brother.” Neither Michael nor Lucifer had taken their anger out on Adam. Adam, after all, had done what had been asked of him. He’d been obedient and done what Dean was supposed to do, while Sam and Dean had thwarted the plan. Since Sam was then the only one there to attack, he’d gotten the brunt of the anger until the two had gotten bored with him and started in on each other.

“You think they’ve moved on to him?”

Bobby was the first one to ask about Adam. Sam suspected Dean didn’t ask only because he was afraid of the answer and thought Adam was being tortured. He couldn’t face knowing that. Sam knew better about Adam. Michael had taken him off before starting a fight with Lucifer and both had made sure he was set apart from them and Sam, safe in one corner of the cage and unaware of where he really was. A consideration he’d never thought he’d see from either of them and a thing he wondered about. He shook his head. “No. He followed orders. It’s me and Dean they want. We’re the rebels who couldn’t follow directions. They won’t hurt Adam.”

“You’re sure of that? I mean, you’re gone now, out of their reach.”

Something scratched at the back of his mind, a thought he couldn’t quite bring into focus.

“Death retrieved your soul, rescued you. I’d think they’d be pissed off at whoever is left and that means Adam.”

Sam turned his attention out the side window. “Maybe. I don’t know. It didn’t seem like they cared about him at all. He was nothing to them.” How would Adam feel about that? Why had Death only saved Sam? Was Adam fine where he was? Possibly, he decided. The two archangels had made him his own little oblivious corner, tossing him aside like a toy they were done with. Perhaps it was the same as heaven for Adam. Maybe it didn’t matter where he was in the end. Maybe Adam had his heaven wherever he was put.

Bobby drove in silence for awhile. John Denver was on the radio. When the song had segued into Willy Nelson, Bobby said, “Thought you wouldn’t mind getting away from the newlyweds for awhile.”

He hoped Castiel remained as unaware of nuance in voices as he’d always been because Bobby’s voice declared clearly that newlyweds was the wrong word for Jo and Dean. “Thanks. Interesting with the dresses and Jo.”

“Well, when Joanna Beth gets an idea in her head, ain’t nothing stopping her. She’s like her mother in that regard. Anyone thinks Jo takes after Bill doesn’t know Ellen very well.”

While he and Dean hadn’t talked about whatever Jo was up to, Sam thought she’d hit on something. It was a good way for her to begin investigating. The guise of making Dean’s life easier as the wife Castiel had appointed was smart. It was very smart of her to use that role Castiel was trying to force her into against him. “She’s smart.”

“That she is.”

More miles passed and Sam sighed, deciding to broach the subject that had been in his thoughts all day. “Bobby…do you think I might be schizophrenic?”

His reaction was instantaneous. He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the truck before turning in the seat to face him. “Why would you ask that, Sam?” The way he said it indicated he’d had that wondering himself. Not comforting to realize.

“Because of the hallucinations. The voices. Big L talks to me.”

“You want honesty?”

“May as well.” He shrugged as though he didn’t care when he cared very much what Bobby thought. “I know I’m screwed. A little honestly won’t change that.”

Bobby studied him so long that he was afraid of what the answer was going to be. “I don’t think the diagnosis would be as simple as schizophrenia -- if they could even manage to make a diagnosis. I think you’ve got so much trauma going on in that head of yours that you’d make some doctor’s career. Death’s wall was holding something in that wasn’t meant to be let out and I think that something is that stew of diagnoses. That’s issues plural, Sam. I think he tried to give you a halfway decent chance at a normal life, or as normal as we get, and Castiel started a crap load of dominoes falling by ripping that wall down.”

“That’s what I think, too. Were they always there do you think?”

“You mean were you always this messed up?”

Sam nodded.

He turned back to face the windshield, put the truck in drive, and carefully pulled back onto the highway. “Yes, but so’s your brother and in case you hadn’t noticed? Ain’t none of us winning ‘sane person of the year’ award any time soon.”

Strangely, those words were what comforted him and when Lucifer popped back in, he was able to ignore him until the hallucination disappeared once more.

Chapter 9

There was nothing there, no ripple of power in the air or evidence of any sort of rogue angels or pagan gods. Castiel knew there weren’t any angels mainly because they were all terrified of him. None of them wished to die. They’d abandoned their vessels and fled for heaven, waiting for any orders he might give them, but he had no plans for the angels to mingle with humans. Their task was to put heaven to rights the way he told them to.

Neither did the remaining pagan gods wish to die. He’d taken a trip around the earth, visiting those he saw and telling them to pass the word on to any he hadn’t visited that if they crossed him they’d die immediately. A couple had tested him. A couple had died as an object lesson to the rest.

He was returning to Bobby Singer’s house now, approaching with caution. He’d been circling it for awhile in ever closer passes, attempting to ascertain whether or not the force that he’d had a brush with was there. There was no way to tell, so he went inside.

Dean and Jo were on the couch, the tv placed where they, or rather Jo, could watch it. It was a nice, domestic scene and Castiel smiled a tiny bit. This was good. Jo was good for Dean. He was relaxed beside her while he looked through a journal, arm around her. Jo moved, laid her head on his shoulder. She, too, seemed at ease and he was relieved to note that.

Turning, he strode through the rooms of the lower level, still cautious. The Bible that had fallen was on the desk and he went to look at it. It was just a Bible. Old, worn, and nothing spectacular. Stretching out a hand, he almost touched it, deciding not to at the last fraction of an inch. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of it on the table and leaned down. Castiel sniffed it. The book smelled like an old book, that musty scent of age very clear. It was like any other book that could be found in this house. There was no hum of power from it, no difference in appearance than any other book. It was just a book.

Still, he didn’t touch it again.

Castiel stood. Although he’d ruminated quite thoroughly on what had occurred, he had no explanation. Perhaps it had been his imagination, that touch of paranoia he’d recognized in himself beginning to show full force. Perhaps he’d hallucinated. Or perhaps he wasn’t …. He didn’t consider where that last ‘perhaps’ could go, cutting off the thought before it could be formed in entirety.

Jo and Dean began to talk and he listened with half an ear, turning in time to see them head towards the stairs. He followed as far as the bottom of the stairs, studying the scene above on the landing. It appeared Jo knew how Dean liked his women to behave. Excellent.

When the door slammed above, he left the house. There was a branch of his church opening and it might be a good idea to check it out.

Circling it like he had Bobby’s house, he noted the cars filled the lot. A few people remained in their cars, uncertain whether they wanted to take the step of going in or not. They’d make the decisions, he knew they would. Castiel was proud of his church, of the people united in the purpose he gave them. He was making the world a better place and they were helping him. As time passed, every aspect of the earth would be changing for the better. His church was going to be instrumental in changing humanity itself.

Faith changed people.

The lobby was perfect, flowers everywhere, and he remembered he’d mentioned his love of flowers to one of his followers. Castiel breathed in the scent of the flowers and closed his eyes. He could almost picture himself in a meadow of wildflowers. Opening his eyes, he went into the sanctuary.

He stood at the back of the room, where the undecided were sitting. The service was acceptable. A bit too old-school, but that could be changed easily enough with a few words from him in public. Perhaps he should appear, welcome this branch and give them encouragement. After all, he liked Sioux Falls. It was something of a home to him because of Dean’s fondness for the location. He’d declare his own fondness for it, make this the center of faith for the world. Sioux Falls was the perfect place. In fact, he’d do it right now.

Castiel materialized as he walked up the aisle, using no spectacular effects to announce his presence. He was simply not there, then there. It was really the simple things that impressed most people he’d found. A few liked the full display, but for most, simplicity was the key. Gasps rose up as he was recognized and he found himself standing a bit taller with each one.

The deacons and pastors on the small stage were awed, mouths open, but one woman recovered quicker than the others. Constance. Her name was Constance and she’d been instrumental in bringing his church here. She was also one of many he’d healed in recent days. Her sickness had been an inoperable brain tumor. Castiel stepped to her.

“Hello, Constance.”

“My lord,” she said, kneeling before him.

“You continue to enjoy good health?”

“I do.”

He touched his hand to her head. “You are blessed.” He raised his voice. “You’ll all be blessed should you choose to believe in me and do good works in my name. Love your neighbors, care for your orphans, widows, and elderly, and heal your sick. Do not lie, cheat, or steal.”

Dean lied, cheated, and stole in the course of his work, but Dean would be forgiven. Castiel forgave him those things. Dean did good work of another sort.

In the congregation, he heard whispers and the sounds of people kneeling.

“This is my church, my home, here in Sioux Falls.”

Castiel turned to face them…and felt the sudden sensation that everything that could be wrong in this world was terribly wrong. The lights seemed to flare brighter, everything in sharp focus, his gaze drawn to the back row on the right.

Ellen Harvelle sat there. She didn’t kneel, nor did she turn her stare from him. Under her constant, impassive regard, he felt like a naughty child who’d been misbehaving in the worst of ways and been caught. She was the only one not kneeling. In fact, as he watched her, she stood. He heard frantic whispers from people around her telling her to kneel.

This is wrong, he thought. Ellen shouldn’t be here. Nor did he want Dean, Jo, Bobby, or Sam, here with the rest of the worshipers. It wasn’t the place for them. They were special to him, each in different ways and they meant more than the people here who blindly followed. Even Sam meant something to him, he realized.

He went to Ellen and took her away from the masses in a single second.

~~~~~~~~~~

The service was what Ellen had expected. It began with greetings from the worship team and introductions.

A pretty dark haired woman stepped forward. “My name is Constance and I believe in Castiel. I was drowning in a sea of pain and he delivered me.” She went on in a spiel that had Ellen’s brows raising from the fervency of each word. Constance Turco was a true believer.

Ellen had read her story on the local website. She’d had a brain tumor, her husband had deserted her and run off with her best friend, and Castiel had come along in the hospital one day and taken the tumor away. She was free from the physical pain and death sentence and had, from that day forward, called him ‘lord’. It had been Constance who’d planted the initial seeds of a church branch.

Bobby had called her a dangerous, obsessive, fanatical nut job who could easily fan flame into fire with her hysterical holier-than-thou rants. He knew her and had crossed her on various other issues over the years.

There was quite a turn out, Ellen reflected, tuning out a chunk of Constance’s speech. The room was full, people standing along the sides and at the back. When Constance finally wound down, she was replaced by seven more long-winded people, all with similar stories. Ellen glanced down at her watch. Hopefully this wouldn’t go on much longer.

She opened her welcome packet and began to read, glancing up every so often at the stage area. Most of the first couple pages of the booklet were on the website, but the rest of the pages held information that wasn’t.

The facts and figures were alarming. The Church of Castiel had already surpassed other religions in the pace of conversion. People were leaving Christianity, Catholicism, Buddhism, Islam, and every religion out there to join. Church numbers grew daily, millions converted in mere months, people flocking to the church. In less than six months, the Church of Castiel surpassed other religions. They had outreach centers started in major cities throughout the world and their influence was leeching into political and economical arenas. The sum of money they claimed to have at their disposal was staggering.

The timeline on one page was chilling. Within a year, there could be one world religion: the Church of Castiel.

Already, it was gaining cachet among celebrities, many leaving Scientology to join the Castiel faith train. One starlet had interviewed the day before saying she’d been given a vision that she was going to some day give birth to the son of Castiel. She was on some sort of purifying diet to prepare herself for that occurrence.

Ellen wondered if Dean had heard that one yet and what he’d say when he did.

What was possessing these people to join? Was it all the healing Castiel did? The public appearances? What made people want to be a part of this?

Next came some hymns, songs she remembered from her childhood only with completely different lyrics. Holy, Holy, Holy took on a different meaning with some of those words changed and she nearly got the giggles during their version of I’ll Fly Away. It was a good thing she hadn’t brought Jo with her. The two of them would’ve gotten themselves thrown out for laughing at the wrong moment.

People raised their hands, like she’d seen at other churches, their faces masks of rapture. Ellen began to feel insistent waves of true alarm as she studied the people. This was quickly growing into a powerful cult. This wasn’t the Church of Castiel, it was the Cult of Castiel.

The service began in earnest, a program very much like other churches, only the focus was Castiel, their god come bodily to earth to guide them. The sermon was on that, an introduction to Castiel for those who didn’t know him.

Ellen snorted. If they really knew him and all that he was now, they’d all run away screaming in terror.

More arms raised, more rapturous expressions appearing, people shouting out such things as ‘Castiel is good’ and ‘Praise be Castiel’. People stood, swaying together. It was like a caricature of a tent revival.

This was a bomb waiting to explode.

The last thing Ellen expected was for Castiel to appear himself, as if on cue, but there he was, striding up the aisle. He joined in the circus display, playing it up, and by the look on his face, he was enjoying it a little too much, basking in the adoration. Ellen could see the joy their awe brought him and felt a pang of sadness for the former angel. He’d lost his way to an awful extent and that sadness she had mingled with pity.

He turned and looked out at the crowd. She thought he actually seemed shocked when he noticed her there. She stood, ignoring the people telling her to kneel. He was to her in a blink, taking the packet from her and tossing it on the floor, then grasping her hands. Around them, people turned to see what was happening and Constance left the stage, heading fast for them.

“This isn’t for you,” he said in a low voice, regret in his gaze. “I want more for you than this.” He took them away from the church, as far as her car, and released her. “This service isn’t for you, Ellen.”

“I thought you wanted us on bended knee. Bobby said -- ”

Castiel shook his head. He seemed upset to have found her here, his breaths gulping. “Not here. You, Jo, Dean, Sam, and Bobby are different. You know me. When you bow down, it’ll be from making up your own minds, not from…mass hysteria.”

“Mass hysteria?” Interesting that he used that term for the way his church was catching on. It could be the most accurate description she’d heard thus far.

“You know what I mean. People influencing people. Don’t misunderstand me. Worship has it’s place, but some drawn to my church would use it for their own agenda.”

“It’s been that way from the beginnings of religion, Cas.”

“I’m aware of that. Still, it’s frustrating. I want more from you than being the latest fad.”

He spat out the word ‘fad’ like it was poison. “That’s how many people are, I’m afraid. They worship the fad and when the glitter fades, they move to the next.”

“No, I mean I don’t want that from you.” He touched her cheek, then dropped his hand away. “Nor from the others. Dean, Jo, Sam, Bobby. I want you to turn to me because it’s your decision and I don’t want them to use any of you. They will use you to get close to me if they can. I know it. I don’t want any of you to be put in that position. You’re mine, not theirs.” He glanced towards the building. “You’ll drive and we’ll talk.”

She got in her car and started it, then drove as he’d told her. He was quiet beside her for several miles. Ellen drove towards the nearest lake. The road around it would give plenty of time for him to say what he wanted.

“Jo and Dean appear to be getting along.”

Ellen shrugged. She’d expected their conversation from the parking lot to continue, but…whatever. “They are.” It was true. The two were fully capable of enjoying each other’s company.

“It must be uncomfortable for you as her mother. I apologize. I hadn’t considered your feelings for Jo’s future.”

He was a mass of contradiction, but all that told Ellen was that he wasn’t God. Beneath it all he was still the awkward Castiel she’d met -- deep beneath. She thought she was seeing a glimpse now. Did he have any idea how much of what he said and did proved he wasn’t God? “You did marry them.” He called it that anyway. “I’ve no objection if that future is what they both want.” The key there being what Jo and Dean wanted, not what Castiel wanted for them.

“Do you believe them to be happy?”

Castiel watched her carefully and Ellen shifted in the seat. “They still have some adjustments to make, but yes, I do think they’re happy.” Jo certainly was to be alive and Dean because they had two friends back.

“Good.”

“Not that they won’t have days where they’re arguing and angry with each other. It’s life. It’s relationships.”

He nodded, then leaned towards her a fraction. “Would they be happier with a child? Your honest opinion. Would a baby be beneficial at present? I could assist the process by increasing Jo’s fertility --”

She held up a hand, having sudden visions of where this mistake could lead. “Whoa. Slow down. They need to become far better acquainted before any kids are thrown into the mix. I think it’d be too much for them to handle.”

“I see.” Castiel sighed, like he’d come to that same conclusion. “I’ll never give Dean more than he can handle. I concur.”

“Children change everything, Castiel. Dean’s still too unstable emotionally for a kid and Jo’s not ready to be a mama either. It’d tear them apart.” Especially with the world as it was under Castiel’s thumb. She could easily see Dean holing them all up in Bobby’s house like it was a medieval castle and refusing to go out for anything save necessities so they’d all stay safe. So the child would stay safe. The obsession would overtake him.

Castiel clasped his hands together. “Are you happy?”

“Sure, I guess. I have what I need.”

He rambled on about happiness in a sad voice for a long while, then slipped away in a blink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Talking with Ellen always seemed to calm him and Castiel returned to the house. Bobby and Sam weren’t back yet and it would take Ellen awhile to return. He was curious as to whether her assessment of Dean and Jo was correct. Were they happy? Had he done all he could to help them be happy? The desire to peer in at them and see how they were in their private moments rose up.

He hesitated outside the bedroom door, curiosity getting the better of him. Castiel touched a hand to the door. They were talking. He could hear them, their voices low enough that he’d have to go in to the room to hear what they said.

But if he did, he’d be violating the privacy he’d been giving them. Dean had a big thing about privacy and Cas had thought that letting him have some with Jo would be a good thing. It’d engender trust that had been lost.

He really wanted to know what they were talking about though.

Go in, his mind urged.

With a glance up and down the hall, he stepped into the room, remaining out of sight. They were in bed, Jo on one side and Dean on the other, their sides touching. Both stared at the ceiling. He felt weird about watching them and crossed his arms.

Dean licked his lips. “It’s not fair, you know, and something should be fair. One thing in our lives, at least.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You died. You don’t have the things I do to tell.”

Jo turned her head on the pillow to look at him. “Not true. I have emotional hurts, too, and things I’d rather forget.”

“Tell me one of them. Even us up a little.” Dean rolled onto his side.

Even up? What had Dean revealed to her? Had he begun to open himself up to her? That was a good thing, a healing thing, and proof that he’d been right to bring her back. It validated that decision.

“Something I’d rather forget?” Jo moved onto her side to face Dean, resting her head on her hand. “Okay. The demon incident.”

“Which one?”

She laughed. “Sad I have to clarify that, isn’t it? The one who possessed Sam. Duluth.”

“Same one whose hounds killed you. Meg. It’s not her name, but it’s the only one we have for her. It was the name of the first host we met her in.”

Surprise showed on her face. “Same one?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t realize. Okay. I guess she’s a really big issue for me, then.”

“She’s an issue for all of us.”

Even for Castiel. He’d have to deal with her soon. She, like Crowley, was out there running around. He hadn’t paid much attention to her except to notice she was still trying to convince other demons to follow her and not Crowley. She’d lost most of her followers and he knew Crowley had a price on her head.

Dean took Jo’s hand in his. “What about her?”

“I want to forget the whole thing and I can’t. When I’m having a bad day, I hear the demon’s words all over again, feel my head being slammed against the bar, the binding at my wrists, hear that taunting, smug tone. The worst part isn’t the demon though. It’s the after. It’s the wondering if one comment was true and the action that seemed to confirm it in my mind.”

Pain sparked in Dean’s eyes and Castiel thought Dean knew where Jo was leading with this. “Jo, I --”

“She said you thought of me as a little sister, a schoolgirl, and when you didn’t call after you’d said you would, I thought…the demon was right.”

“You were young and naïve and --”

“Let me finish. I was inexperienced as a hunter and leaving hadn’t given me the experience I needed. Other hunters don’t tend to take a cute young blond seriously. I had a lot to learn and no one to learn from. It was right and it hurt to admit it to myself, but I thought you were a jerk about the whole thing. I mean, you had my number. You and Sam both. I thought maybe I’d said something, done something to make you not call and not care enough to call.” She shook her head. “But then I realized it probably wasn’t personal.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s the hunter way. I knew it all along, had seen it growing up, even done it myself. You blow into town, deal with the bad thing, and run back out before you have to clean up any messes. The messes are the hard part, the part that tugs at you, makes you want to scream at the injustice of it all. So we run from it, because if we get too invested in the survivors, we can’t do our jobs. If we let ourselves care, it could bite us in the ass. You showed up, Dean, the demon got the drop on you and skedaddled, and you headed out after it. I was a mess, but I wasn’t the main mess. Sam was your priority. It’s how it was and how it is. You didn’t need to have me and my issues to deal with, too.”

He opened his eyes. “I should have called.”

“It’s done. We’re past it.”

“Are we? You’re not past it if it still gets to you.”

“I forgave you for that a long time ago, sweetheart. You asked about something I’d like to forget. The demon and that moment is a big something for me.”

“I hurt you.”

“I learned from that hurt. I think I even needed it. It was an eye opener. I grew up after that, really grew up. Not long after the Roadhouse blew, mom found me and proposed we work as a team. I was all she had left and she was all I had and by the time I saw you again, I’d forgiven you.”

“There was nothing schoolgirl about you when we met up in that town.”

“Well,” she loosed her hand from his and rested it on his arm, “Rufus quickly kicks the naivety from a person.” She frowned. “Kicked. I keep forgetting he’s dead. He didn’t suffer fools gladly. Mom and I spent a few months working out our differences and when she thought we were in a good place, she gave Rufus a call. Explained the situation and sweet talked him into joining us on a few jobs.”

The conversation continued, Jo filling Dean in on the time between then and Carthage, things that hadn’t been mentioned before, and Castiel slipped away. He was pacified and satisfied by what he’d overheard. Dean and Jo were opening up to each other and all was right on that end.

~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came far too early, Ellen shaken awake by Jo. She’d gotten in late, driving longer than she should have while she’d thought about everything she’d learned. She’d projected just where the church could take things and hated where she saw the world going. At this point, taking Castiel out was the only option to derail the train, but she wasn’t certain it wasn’t too late for that already.

“Mom. Mom, wake up. You need to see this.” Her voice was urgent, the hand shaking her insistent. “Get up.”

Getting up, she tugged on a robe and followed Jo down the stairs. “Why are you awake at this hour, Jo?” It was barely dawn. She could hear the tv playing and thought there must be some disaster that had happened.

They were gathered around the set. Only Bobby and Sam were dressed. Jo and Dean, like her, were in nightclothes.

“What are you all looking at?” She went to the couch to get a good view. There on the screen was her picture. Ellen groaned and sat beside Sam, who patted her knee. It was a disaster all right.

“Who is this woman,” the newscaster said. “That’s the story for this morning and one that has the Church of Castiel searching for answers. This mystery woman appeared at the first official service here in Sioux Falls, studying the crowd gathered there. She watched but didn’t kneel before Castiel when he approached her, an indication to some that she’s an important figure he may reveal more about in the future. She appears to be the average middle aged woman, yet gathered the attention of,” she smiled, “Castiel himself.”

They showed a clip, probably from security cameras, of Castiel walking to her, throwing the folder aside, taking her arm, and them both disappearing.

“Who is she? Where did she come from? And what prompted Castiel to take her from the building? The answer may be in the words he said to her, words we’ve received permission from the Church to play here today.”

There was a pause and Castiel’s voice sounded. “This isn’t for you. I want more for you than this.”

The screen cut back to the anchor. She was still smiling. “A favored woman and one we’d all like to meet again.”

“So…slow news day,” Ellen asked.

Bobby clicked off the tv. “Ready for your ten minutes of fame?”

Ellen sat back. “Great. Now I can’t go in to town.”

“What possessed you to go in there,” Dean demanded and she looked up at him.

“We needed more information than their generic website has up. It was easier to go there.”

“Did you find out anything?” He crossed his arms.

She nodded. “Yeah, I did. They’ve passed church and moved on into full cult territory. Cas is a threat, but that church of his? Nothing to spit at. They’re dangerous and they’re growing. Take one fanatic and multiply by thousands.” She watched that sink in and saw the exact moment when Dean understood what they meant.

If they killed Castiel, they’d become Public Enemy Number One, hunted down by a fanatical church left behind.

Chapter 10

Notes:

Bible verses are credited in text with book, chapter, and verse, all NIV.

With Sam in the shower, Dean decided look up a few more things. Sam would be in there awhile. He took longer showers these days than he used to and Dean understood. It was easier to have a meltdown with the water running to muffle any sounds. He’d done it himself. He remembered standing in front of the mirror over the sink while water ran and steam swirled around him, desperately trying to recognize himself in his reflection. In fact, he’d done that just that morning. Dean remembered the flashes of hell memories rising up, making his hands shake.

He took a drink from the water bottle beside him, forcing himself to turn his attention to his work.

The conclusion Ellen brought them to was horrifying for many reasons, the first being that Castiel could easily have his followers keep track of all of them, much like what Zachariah had done to Dean to find him, and they’d never know who was watching them. With the influence Castiel had over the people, he could mobilize them to accomplish just about anything through human channels. He could shape the world to any vision he had for it far more easily with human cooperation. There’d be no need to exert himself if he had the bulk of the world behind him, which looked to be within a year.

They needed to end him and fast. The problem was how to do that. They had yet to find any references anywhere to a creature like what he’d become.

Dean groaned and closed the laptop. For days, between working a job, he and Sam had been digging deeper into the things Ellen had elaborated on. The truth wasn’t even hidden, it was simply a matter of looking for it. The Church wasn’t hiding anything. The numbers Ellen had quoted were correct.

“What is it you’ve been seeing out here on your jobs? What new things?”

Castiel’s voice startled him and he sat back with a gasp. He’d appeared like he always did: silently, and he was spying on them all over again. Still, rather. He still spied on them. He’d known Cas had been there while he and Jo talked, Jo had seen him, but this brought it really home, him once more using Dean’s own words. He made no effort to cover up that he’d been watching, either, which irritated the hell out of Dean. Castiel seemed to think it was his right to spy. Dean felt creeped out by it even more than usual, especially in light of the conversations he and Jo had shared in that room that night.

“An uptick in activity,” he said, scrambling for some sort of new thing that might stop the questioning that was coming before he said something he shouldn’t.

“Besides that. You meant something specific. What were you referring to?”

What could he say? He latched onto something Bobby was working up, something that really was new. “Cases of aggression that stem from what could be demon activity. Not typical activity, just similar. A possible type of possession.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “There are other creatures in the world who possess in a similar manner. You should pray to me when you have more information. I’d be happy to assist you in identifying the cause.”

Dean got up from his chair and turned away.

“Dean?”

“We don’t need your help on this.”

Castiel sighed. “Why do you remain stubborn? Why do you not pray to me?” His voice was sad and more than a little petulant as he went on. “You should pray to me. Many in the world now do. You used to. Why do you not now?”

Dean closed his eyes a moment, then reopened them and turned. “Castiel. You know why.”

“How is what I ask any different than what you were already doing? You prayed to me, Dean. Me.” He touched one hand to his chest. “Don’t you remember? I’m not asking you to change what you were doing, merely continue to do it. Why do you not pray to me anymore?”

“You’re talking to the wrong Winchester. I’m not the praying kind of guy. Sam is.”

“Sam is praying to the wrong God. But you….” He shook his head. “You have no faith. That’s still your problem.”

Indicating that Sam continued to pray. Even after everything that had happened, Sam had faith enough to pray. The news of that floored him. How was it possible? How could Sam, of all people, still have any sort of faith left? “Not like you listened to Sam anyway, is it?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he tasted bile at the back of his throat, waiting for whatever Castiel would do in retaliation.

Castiel frowned. “I explained why I didn’t answer him in those days.”

“Did you? Did you really give us the truth? Because with what I know now about what you were up to all those months I was out of the game, it doesn’t seem likely, does it?” It was a direct challenge and while he could see the tightening of Castiel’s fists, it didn’t look like he was going to act. Why wasn’t he acting? From past experience, he would act.

Assuming a condescending expression, Castiel drew himself up taller, head tipping back a fraction. “Your childish outburst is unwarranted, Dean. I spoke the truth then.”

He bit his tongue to keep from asking if he’d actually told it that day or merely convinced himself he had.

“I’ll leave you with this: I’ve taken care of the publicity Ellen received. She shouldn’t be bothered by anyone now, though I understand should she decide to remain cautious. None of you should be bothered. I’ll keep you all separate, Dean. I promise.” He disappeared. Maybe.

His promises meant nothing. He’d promised to fix Sam and hadn’t. That meant Dean couldn’t trust him to keep any promise. “Sure.” He looked around the room for some sign that Castiel had stuck around, but as usual, there was none.

The bathroom door opened. “What’d he want,” Sam asked, wiping his face with a towel.

“The usual. ” Dean shrugged. “What’s going on, why aren’t you praying to me…Sam’s praying to the wrong God. He said you still pray.”

Sam tossed the towel onto the bathroom sink and came out, reaching for his button down shirt and pulling it on. “Did he?”

“Do you?” He watched Sam closely, Sam avoiding looking at him. “You do, don’t you? How can you pray to a God that hasn’t done crap for us? Have you looked at both of us lately, Sam? We’ve both been to hell and back in the literal sense. We’ve had so much crap piled on us and it never stops. We’re still getting the crap shoveled our way. Explain that to me, because it’s not making much sense.”

Sam sighed and began sorting through his bag. “I just do, okay? I know Cas isn’t God, not really, but I have to believe the real one is still out there and he’ll knock Cas down a peg or two someday. I have to believe there’s judgment for what he did somewhere in the future.”

“Only thing I see out there is Death and guess what? He’s not much of a fan of ours either.”

“Look, Dean, I pray. I always have. It’s how it is.” He turned. “We know He’s out there. We got that confirmation once.” He sat down on the bed. “It’s hard to explain, I guess. How am I vertical? Think about it. I should be catatonic at best and I’m walking around. That’s got to be some sort of divine intervention.”

He wasn’t convinced, but saw the stubborn set to Sam’s jaw and knew if he pursued this they’d end up going round and round on the issue. “We’ll see. Personally, I’d like the intervention to be more on the fixing you completely side of things.”

A half smile tugged Sam’s lips. “We’ve never been that lucky.”

“Got that right.” He went to the table and began gathering papers. They needed to be in Nevada ASAP. “You about ready?”

“When you are.”

Within half an hour, they were heading towards the next location.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks passed. Sam and Dean went out on two jobs that were fairly close, one that took a week and a half and one that was easy and done within a week. The rest was travel time. The jobs themselves were typical, the world Sam saw around him not. Interviewing witnesses was hard enough sometimes without Lucifer suggesting impertinent questions and talking over them. Nor did Sam care for seeing the witnesses strung up with hooks or ropes or killed in front of him in bizarre ways. Lucifer’s homage to The Birds had been particularly disturbing and had had him ducking and running for cover every time he’d seen a bird for two days after.

Dean had told everyone who witnessed that that Sam suffered from ornithophobia, the fear of birds. Sam wasn’t entirely certain Lucifer hadn’t added a few big birds here and there to milk it.

Being on the road was getting harder with each week that passed. He’d found himself hiding little things that indicated his condition was worsening, afraid of how Dean would react. Dean wanted him well so badly and there was no way he saw that happening unless they did get some divine intervention. He’d had a hard time explaining to Dean why he prayed and, honestly, he had trouble explaining it to himself. It just felt like the right thing to do.

He smiled a little as Dean turned into Bobby’s driveway, glad to be someplace he could talk to himself and no one would look at him like he was insane…which he thought he was. Upon stepping inside, Sam was amused to watch Jo grab Dean before he could even set his bag down and drag him up the stairs. Dean dropped the bag halfway up the stairs. Sam guessed it had something to do with Ellen, though it could be anything. He wondered how long before Jo went stir crazy with nothing to do but play wife.

“Pills still working,” Bobby asked him with crossed arms and a blunt voice.

“So far.” He was taking the sleeping pills more often than he should, but getting real rest was a welcome escape from waking hours. Dean understood and hadn’t called him on it. Nor had he called him on the hour long showers. Dean had no room to talk on those. He simply appeared as relieved as Sam was that Sam was sleeping, which meant Dean himself could rest.

With a nod, Bobby returned outside. It was still a work day for him.

Ellen paused in folding a mountain of laundry. “You may be sleeping but you look like hell. That a nick I see on your jaw?”

“Two. Lucifer wanted to shave me and I jerked before remembering he wasn’t actually there with a straight razor.”

“Mmm.” She was dividing clothes between two bags and one basket. “Seeing anything new these days?”

He snagged Dean’s bag, set it with his, and sat down. “Same old, same old mostly.”

Her stare was critical. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Saw one. Sleeping pills, remember?”

“Dean got them and I mean a real doctor, one who even still has a license.”

Sam looked away. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. “I don’t want to talk about it, Ellen. I especially don’t want to talk about it with anyone who could lock me up for the rest of my life. Dean needs me out, not shoved in a building somewhere.”

“I agree. That boy is dependant on you.” She placed two shirts on one bag. “Tell me something though…. How much help are you going to be to him if this gets worse? When was the last time he had to cuff you to a pipe? Or calm you down from a hallucination?”

Both in the past three weeks. To be fair, he’d made Dean cuff him to the pipe. It hadn’t been Dean’s idea this time. “I’m functioning.”

“Functioning,” she repeated, then pursed her lips. Ellen zipped a bag and stopped what she was doing entirely to study him. Sam felt exposed. She had that knack of seeing what he was trying to hide. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re worse than you’re letting on, aren’t you?” The query was soft, almost hesitant.

“I’m fine, Ellen. A few hallucinations every day --”

“Jesus, Sam, don’t play things too close. We all love you here, you know that. I consider you my own like I birthed you.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Of course you are.” Her sigh was long and frustrated. “Will you do me a favor and sit out the next case, whatever it is? Stay here with me and Jo and rest. We’d love your company.”

He sighed and sat back in the chair, propping a foot on the footrest. The request wasn’t merely for him, he realized. She, Jo, and Bobby all had to be wearing on each other’s nerves by now. “I was already planning on it. Bobby doesn’t need me and Dean both with him and Dean’s more curious than I am about the case. It doesn’t sound like much to me.” He indicated the laundry with a hand. “You going somewhere?”

“Getting a bag ready in case I find something I want to investigate.”

He put laundry in, both his and Dean’s, then sat down to do some studying. He flipped through the old Bible that Castiel had shown interest in in the middle of the night that one night, verses jumping out at him as he flipped. The verses were a mix about false gods, hardened hearts, and punishment.

‘You shall have no other gods before me.’ Exodus 20:3

That likely included angels gaining power and setting themselves up as God himself.

‘Blessed is the one who always trembles before God, but whoever hardens their heart falls into trouble.’ Proverbs 28:14

Castiel had used this verse himself, yet putting it into the perspective of Castiel as the hardened heart, it indicated problems in the future for Cas.

‘…they aroused my anger by burning incense to and worshipping other gods that neither they nor you nor your ancestors ever knew.’ Jeremiah 44:3

Another indication of Castiel and the way he’d set himself up as God.

‘…those the king wanted to put to death, he put to death; those he wanted to spare, he spared; those he wanted to promote, he promoted; and those he wanted to humble, he humbled. But when his heart became arrogant and hardened with pride, he was deposed from his royal throne and stripped of his glory.’ Daniel 5:19-20

Those verses talked about Nebuchadnezzar, but Sam hoped it could apply here and that Castiel would be deposed.

“And blah, blah, blah.” Lucifer sat across from him, crossed his arms on the edge of the desk and rested his chin on them. “It’ll come in time, Sam, and someone will rise in his place. I could do a better job than him. I never opened Purgatory and ingested all the souls inside. Surely I get good archangel points for that?”

Rather than answer, he flipped pages, skimming the words.

“He’ll fall. They all do. Some fall down to hell and some just…fall.” He slapped a hand onto the desk with a crack. “Which do you think Castiel will be? Should I start dusting off a corner of the cage to make him a home? Michael might enjoy beating the snot out of him. The pretender God, ultimate blasphemer.” He smiled. “As powerful as he thinks he is right now, he’s nothing and will forever remain nothing. A small-time fake shaking his fist at daddy.” Lucifer stared at him. “I think we both know something about that, don’t we?”

“Why don’t you tell me something useful,” he muttered, flipping more pages.

“You want useful, Sam? How about this? Why does he always spy and ask for information? Shouldn’t he be able to glean it from your thoughts? Know it before it happens? Shouldn’t he be able to anticipate everything you do, every place you go, and every single thought you have?”

“He’s not omnipotent or omniscient. I know that.”

“Does everyone else in your little posse? Ellen perhaps. Maybe Jo. She’s a smart girl. Have Dean-o and the Bobster internalized it?”

“Maybe.” Or maybe not.

“Start using it.”

“Use it how?” How could they use that against Castiel? Was it even possible?

Lucifer sat back, clasping his hands behind his head. “You’ve got a brain, big boy. Figure it out.” As if he’d said enough, he faded from view, leaving Sam with a message that was eerily like the one Chuck kept giving him: Focus and figure out what he wasn’t seeing.

~~~~~~~~~~

The door was barely closed before Jo was pulling away and pacing. She was upset by something.

Dean took his jacket off and laid it on the end of the bed. “Talk to me.”

She turned. “I saw her, Dean.” The words were sobbed.

“Who?”

Her hands went to her side, patting it. “Her. The demon. Same host. She was here in Sioux Falls. Today.” From the look on her face, he deduced she’d been keeping this inside. She was crying already, but trying to stop herself, her features scrunching up.

“Wait, Meg? Meg’s here?” Why would Meg be here, he wondered, then answered that question quickly. She had a thing for Castiel, that was why, and if he was hanging around here, she’d follow eventually. “Did you tell Ellen and Bobby?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Mom would’ve been out on the streets before I even finished telling her what happened. She’d go after her, try to exorcise her wherever she found her, get herself arrested or killed.” Jo stopped pacing. “I can’t let that bitch get either of us killed again.”

He moved close. “What happened?”

“I was coming out of the pharmacy and bumped into her. She looked at me and….” Jo wiped tears from her cheeks. “She said she remembered me, that she’d have to see me again real soon so we can chat about how I’m still alive.”

He swore, long and low, hands tightening into fists. Just what they didn’t need. Meg joining in the mix. As if Castiel and his Church wasn’t enough. “We’ll find her. We’ll exorcise her, use the knife on her, something, get her out of the way.”

“That might be difficult. She was with that nut Constance Turco, acting like her best buddy.”

“Trying to insert herself into the Church?” It seemed like a Meg thing to do. Insert herself, make herself indispensable, and get close to Castiel. With Crowley in the place she wanted to be, she might try to oust him by showing Castiel she was more cooperative than Crowley, that he could trust her to run hell exactly the way he wanted. Might be interesting to watch her get her ass fried by Cas, but he didn’t want her anywhere near Jo.

“Maybe. The two were chatty, giggly. It was disturbing coming from Constance. I watched them for awhile, but then Meg aimed a finger at me like a gun and pretended to pull the trigger. I didn’t stay after that. I came back.”

“They didn’t notice you were upset?” He touched her arms, ran his hands up and down them. Her skin was cool.

“I didn’t give them a chance. I came right up here.” She sniffled, blinking fast to ward off a fresh rush of tears. “I don’t want them to know.”

Looking at her, he saw exactly what she needed from him and took action. He drew her against him, holding her when she resisted. “Let it out, Jo. If you don’t do it now, it’ll come out later and Ellen will still run after her. You know that.” She relaxed against him, arms going around him, face pressed to his chest as she cried. He could imagine easily what coming face to face with Meg had been like for her. Dean embraced her until her sobs stopped, then released her. “Better?”

She glanced away. “I don’t cry like this….”

“It’s okay. Meeting the thing that killed you is always emotional. You deserve a good cry from the shock. You’re allowed to feel something about it.”

Jo drew herself up straight. She quickly pulled herself together and Dean admired that ability. He remembered she’d had it even way back in Philadelphia, going from rescued damsel to bait in seconds. “She’ll be the one crying next time.”

“That’s the spirit. What’s say you wash your face and we go down and pretend this never happened?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Back downstairs, the tv was playing their favorite program: Castiel on live broadcast, doing something he considered good for the world. Dean didn’t even ask what he was up to this time, he merely called the meeting to order. Jo volunteered to watch the broadcast and let them know when Castiel got tired of it and disappeared.

“How long,” Bobby demanded, hurrying through the door.

“About five,” Ellen answered.

“Anything?” Dean leaned against the desk, the question meaning any information at all that they might be able to use.

“My searches have come up with as much nothing as yours.” Jo kept her gaze on the tv. “Geez. The sick again. This time in China. How many thousands has he healed now?”

“it’s got to be in the billions by now and he likes to be useful.” Ellen joined her.

“One word for it,” Bobby muttered. “We got anything worth discussing or not? If not, I got work.”

“He’s not omniscient,” Sam blurted out. “He doesn’t know everything. If he did, he’d know what we’re up to. He’d know about Dean and Jo. He’d know everything and he doesn’t, but he doesn’t want us to know he doesn’t. He’s trying pretty hard to make us think he’s omniscient and all powerful --”

“Sam’s right.” Ellen leaned forward, hands clasped together. “He was asking me for info awhile back that he should’ve known if he was really highest of the high.”

Sam shook his head, hair sliding onto his forehead. “He’s not omnipotent either. He’s not unlimited. He has limits.”

“Does he?” At times, Dean wasn’t sure of that at all. Castiel seemed to be everywhere.

Bobby leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Makes sense. If he’s not omniscient, meaning he doesn’t know everything, it also means he’s not omnipotent. Not knowing things is a limit and if he has limits, he can somehow be killed.”

Back to the big question. Dean shrugged. “Okay. But how do we kill him? And what use is knowing he’s not all that if we don’t know how to use it against him?”

“Guys, he’s gone!” Jo looked up.

Bobby turned and left the house without another word.

Ellen pulled an iPhone out of her jeans pocket and tapped at it. “Sam, would you like to see a movie with me tonight? Bobby won’t go and Jo’s already seen everything.”

“Um…sure?”

“Let’s go then.”

And then it was only Dean and Jo. Her smile was bright and forced. “Well, honey, do we stay in or go out?”

Dean pulled out his car keys. “We’re going out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

With a cup of coffee in hand, Jo sat outside and thought about the next step. She was the only one awake at present, but that was okay. She didn’t mind the quiet solitude. She’d laid in bed for awhile and watched Dean sleep.

When he did sleep, he crashed hard and she knew that wasn’t good. He was too stressed, too sleep deprived from worries that wouldn’t shut down. He had a ton of ‘what if’ scenarios running through his head for each of them, plus the scenarios for whatever jobs he and Sam had.

She eased what worries she could, keeping him up to date and doing naturally what Castiel wanted her to do. There was a lot she couldn’t ease. It simply wasn’t possible.

Jo sighed. Seeing the demon Meg in town had shaken her badly, but she couldn’t let that stop her from continuing with her plan. She had a list ready for her next step, fake papers, and a grid to work from. Her mother wasn’t going to like this. She already told Jo she was being too reckless, though the words lacked the usual touch of forceful warning.

Ellen wasn’t one to talk about reckless however. She was walking a rope herself with the Church, investigating them like a journalist hoping for a scandalous exposé . She’d even seem disappointed when the furor over her appearance at that service died down within a couple days. It was obvious to Jo that Ellen had her own reckless plan that likely included Bobby. The two had some sort of weird facial expression and hand gesture code now to communicate.

Then there was Sam. He wasn’t in a good way and they all knew it. Dean thought Sam was hiding his condition again, trying to downplay it. Jo wouldn’t blame him if he did. It probably wasn’t out of trying to be secretive but rather trying to deny to himself how bad it was.

She drank deeply of the hot coffee, both hands around the oversized mug she’d bought recently. She’d found two oversized mugs that said ‘his’ and ‘hers’ on them in a bright red and yellow design. Bobby had barely concealed his amused grin when she’d explained to them all that she had to start setting up a home for herself and Dean. The mugs were perfect. She’d brought out three more mugs after that, mugs without writing, claiming she’d gotten a good deal.

She’d be glad when she no longer had to do stupid shit like that. Playing the part Castiel had given her was wearing on her.

The door opened and Dean sat close beside her. His leg brushed hers. “Mind some company?”

“You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s going around I hear.”

“Why are you up early?”

Jo set her mug down and leaned back on her hands. “Couldn’t get my mind to stop. Too many things I’m thinking about.”

“I hear you.” He took a drink of coffee. She saw he was using the ‘his’ mug. “You feeling okay? I mean, the whole out of sorts thing we talked about.”

She was now, after time had passed, but could see he was worrying about that. He worried that she and Ellen had been brought back changed. Understandable after how Cas had brought Sam back. “I know someone who might be able to tell.”

“Who?”

“She’s a psychic, someone I trust. I’ll have her come out and take a look at us. She’s good with auras and things. If we’re all out of whack, she’ll probably be able to see it.” Jo sat up.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.” Jo rested her hand on his knee for a few seconds. “If it’ll put your mind at rest on this, of course I will.”

“Get her out here as soon as you can, okay? Bobby and I are leaving tomorrow morning on that weird case he got wind of --”

“I know. I’ll get her out here, we’ll keep an eye on Sam, and we’ll all be fine when you get back. You and Bobby be careful.”

“He tell you anything about it?”

“As little as possible. Said something about keeping my curiosity in check, though he did mention someone had spotted gray fog right before a guy went nuts.” There were weird reports beginning to filter through the hunting community about a gray fog, hunters calling Bobby to see if he had any idea what it was. He didn’t, hence the trip he and Dean were taking.

“Probably a ghost or something mixed with some guy off his meds.”

“Maybe.”

They sat drinking their coffee together as the sun rose.

Chapter 11

Since Darla couldn’t come for six days, Jo passed the time much like she had been. She talked and played cards, watched tv, read, shopped for things none of them needed but that Castiel could expect to see, and thought about Dean. Or rather she thought about her changing relationship with him.

She had a picture of him now, one she’d snapped and printed herself. He had one of her that he’d put in his wallet, ready to pull out and show Castiel if he asked. Jo thought they were as prepared as could be at present. They had the pictures and could answer some of his most probing questions.

At night, while Dean was gone, she’d look at that picture of him and think about how their kisses were ceasing to be fake. Something was stirring in them both and she’d seen her own wariness and desire reflected in his eyes. She’d consider the fact that she didn’t mind when his hands were a little too close to her breasts, nor did she mind being pressed tight to him.

She was falling for him for real and knew it in the way she remembered the scent of his aftershave for hours and how she could trace the lines and curves of his face in the air from memory. The thought of loving him both terrified and excited because there was no way they’d end any better this time than they had previously in Carthage. Becoming emotionally entangled wasn’t a good idea, but what a ride it’d be!

Jo began to dream of Dean Winchester and knew for a certainty that this time, he also dreamed of her. She felt it in the way he touched her now and the way he’d taken to kissing her. It was in how he said her name and the way he looked at her.

Maybe they could take a chance. Maybe they could be just a little reckless together and have something good while it lasted.

She thought those things at night and when she was alone. The rest of the time, she played her role and pretended the course she thought about was already under way to the fullest degree.

One bright spot in those days while Dean and Bobby were gone and they waited for Darla was Sam’s company. Jo enjoyed hearing his stories of the time that had passed between 2009 and the present year. He was more forthcoming than Dean had been, willing to talk about cases and experiences. She wondered if it helped him to discuss them.

She changed position on the couch, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms about them. It was late. Ellen was in bed and while Jo was tired, she wasn’t ready to end the discussion with Sam. He stopped mid-sentence and turned his head, watching something in the middle of the room. He didn’t seem alarmed, merely sad. “Sam?”

He glanced at her, blinked, and returned his attention to the spot. “Gwen and Christian.”

“You see them?”

“It’s a memory, a little faded now, like ghosts. Rough around the edges.”

“What was happening in it?”

He watched another minute, then turned to face her, arm on the back of the couch. “They were arguing. They argued a lot. Christian thought it was funny to wind her up.”

“What was Gwen like?”

“Opinionated. Stubborn.” He shrugged. “She was good, but made a bad decision following Samuel. Sometimes I wish she’d known enough of what was happening to leave before she got killed. Maybe we should have told her. I think she would’ve listened. It would’ve been nice, you know? To have family out there that wasn’t inclined to stab us in the backs for personal gain.”

“You liked her.” It was easy to interpret that from the way he talked about her.

He smiled. “As much as my soulless self could like anyone. She was the first of them to really try to make me feel welcome after Samuel claimed me as family.” That smile slipped away. “ I didn’t feel anything when she died, Jo. It was almost like watching a stranger get killed.”

He regretted that he hadn’t mourned for her and regretted what he couldn’t change. Did he realize how like Dean that was? “It happened before the wall came down and you had access to everything in your memory?”

“Yeah.”

“I think if you’d remembered the things you do now that you would’ve felt more at that moment.”

“Maybe. My soulless self didn’t have any emotions though. He didn’t even have instinct. Dean said that and he was right.”

She studied him, noted the weariness on his face and the regret in his eyes. It was strange to her how his hallucinations could cause such differing reactions in him. Some of them put him in another world entirely, a world of pain, blood, and torture, while others seemed more like tv shows he was watching play out in thin air. The latter he could view in a detached manner. The former drew him in and tumbled him about. “This one didn’t bother you?”

His laugh was low and tired. “No. Nothing to be bothered about. Just one more argument the two had. Gwen upset because Christian had belittled her in front of Samuel and no on intervened. He got away with it and Gwen…. Gwen kept trying to make a place for herself in a group of men not inclined to take her seriously.”

“I totally get that. Don’t imagine she had it any easier than I did breaking into it, even from a family of hunters.”

“No, but you had Ellen. That’s a lot more than she had right there.”

It was true. Once Ellen had understood that there was no changing Jo’s mind, she’d become determined to join her and make sure she had the chance to learn, practice, and hone her skills. Through the many contacts she’d made over the years at the Roadhouse, Ellen had given Jo the opening into that hunting world Jo had been unable to make on her own. She’d given Jo a fighting chance to survive. “My mother is a force of nature.”

“Amen to that.”

Jo glanced at the clock. “I should get to bed. Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Jo.”

She slept well and, as she and Sam worked on doing the dishes after lunch the next day, she filled him in on her psychic friend.

“Her name’s Darla Starlight. I met her while I was on my own.” At Sam’s amused expression, Jo nodded. “Yes, it’s a stage name. She was a Vegas showgirl back in the day. Had a pretty spectacular accident on stage that jump started her abilities.” She held up a finger as he began to grin. “Don’t say it. Just because Dean isn’t here doesn’t mean you need to say whatever he’d say.”

“I wasn’t,” he protested, but the tiny curl of a grin at his lips belied that protest. He began putting the dishes away.

“You were.” There was the tap of a horn from outside. “That’s her. Send mom out for me when she comes down?”

“Sure. I’ll come out, too. Kinda want to meet her.”

Jo stepped outside as Darla exited the car. She hadn’t changed much. A little older and maybe some padding along the hips that made her hourglass figure more pronounced. Her blond hair was curled in the sort of big ‘do common in the Eighties and she wore a suit that emphasized her figure. Darla’s welcoming smile faded as Jo approached and she found herself on the receiving end of a long, hard hug.

Darla pulled back, hands cupping Jo’s face. “Oh, darlin’. How long were you dead?”

“You can see that?” It threw her for a moment. She hadn’t expected Darla to be able to see that. She’d expected Darla to see a change in her aura or something like that, not that she’d been dead.

“It’s all over you. Death had you in his hands.” Her bright blue gaze traveled down Jo and back up. She nodded with certainty. “You were pronounced. How many minutes passed before you revived?”

“Long story.” One Darla might not believe.

“I’ve never seen it this certain, Jo.” She touched Jo’s hair and released her. “You’re marked by it. I see it on a lot of people. Usually it’s like a thin old scar, a little pink, but yours is dark, like a raw fresh wound. You’re deeply marked and you came back recently.”

“A couple months ago. There didn’t seem any chance in hell I’d come back from it. I was gone, like no return, Darla, but I did come back.”

“Usually that means there’s a purpose in this life for you. You’re here because you need to be.” She leaned against her car.

“You mean divine intervention?” It had been Castiel who’d raised her and Ellen both, Cas who claimed to be the divine.

“I mean when people are brought back from such certain deaths, they’re important somehow. Might not be important by the standards of the world, but important nonetheless. Maybe it’s divine, maybe it’s just Fate. It’s what I’ve seen.” She crossed her arms. “It’ll stay with you. The mark never fades. You never forget the experience or, at least, I’ve never met anyone who has. You’ll never forget your death. Some are tortured by it, others not so much. Some find life all the sweeter. Carpe diem and so on.”

Ellen came out, followed by Sam, whose eyes widened at the sight of curvaceous Darla. “Hey, Darla. Jo didn’t tell me she called you. Or did you call her? What’s got you out our way?”

Darla stared at her, then Jo, and back at Ellen. “You died together and for a similar length of time.”

Unlike Jo, Ellen didn’t appear surprised. “We did.” Ellen nodded. “Long story.”

“Jo said. Both of you coming back from that….” She looked troubled, a frown tugging her brow.

“You can tell they were dead,” Sam asked, moving closer. Jo saw what looked like fear spark in his eyes.

Darla transferred her gaze to Sam and smiled, frown smoothing out. “I can. Death leaves a mark every time. For example, you’ve been dead as well -- and your experience haunts you.”

“A couple times,” Sam admitted. “And haunting may be a decent word for it.”

“More than once makes you a rare individual to be back among us. Not many get more than one extra chance.”

“You should meet my brother.”

“Oh?”

Before Sam could elaborate, Jo motioned at the house. “Why don’t we talk inside?”

Once they were all seated at Bobby’s kitchen table, with Sam introduced, Darla’s suit jacket off, and cups of coffee all around, Darla smiled. “So, Jo, you’ve been out of touch for a long time. Last time we talked was, what?, 2008? I’m curious why you asked me to come here today.”

“Mostly to put my…husband’s…mind at ease.” The word ‘husband’ still felt odd coming from her mouth, but once more, she said it in case Castiel was hanging around. Darla’s glance slid to Sam, who put his hands up.

“No, not me.” He laughed, shaking his head in denial. “I think Jo’s too much of a handful for me. She means my brother, Dean.”

“Dean,” Darla repeated. “Good name. Solid. Tough.”

“You could call him those things,” Ellen murmured.

“What’s bothering Dean? Where is he?” She glanced towards the next room. “Normally, I’d like the worrier to be present. Helps with the easing.”

Jo stacked some papers to get them out of the way. “He’s out on the road. Work. Same sort I met you doing.”

“Is that how you met him?”

Ellen snorted.

“Am I missin’ something?” Darla glanced back and forth between Jo and Ellen. “Ellen?”

“They met a long time ago back when I still had the Roadhouse. Dean and Sam came through and…well, they met then. Jo wasn’t in it yet, though not for wont of trying.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to open any old wounds.”

“You didn’t.” Jo shook her head. “It’s facts and long passed. I did get into it not long after meeting them and here we are today. The problem today is that Dean thinks we’re not ourselves since we came back.” Jo sipped her coffee and waited.

“Not yourselves how?” She was watching them each in turn with her eyes narrowed.

“Just different.” Ellen wasn’t touching her coffee, though she’d added an ice cube and sugar. She stirred the contents slowly. “We did feel weird the first week or two, disconnected, but it went away. For me, anyway. I think it did for Jo, too.”

Jo nodded. “I feel fine now, but Dean can’t stop thinking about it. He’s worried and I’d like to make that worry go away.”

Darla nodded. “The disconnection is normal from what I’ve been told. However, I’ve seen people return different, like something rode them back. One man I met was a copy of himself. He was sweet before and kind of ugly after. It changed him in a bad way.” She sipped her coffee, then asked, “What sort of death was it?”

“Not pretty,” Ellen supplied.

“Death never is,” Darla commented.

“It was bad.” Sam ran a finger around the rim of his mug. “It was hard. We thought we’d lost them forever and it….” He frowned. “It’ll make us all feel better to know they’re okay.”

Darla’s attention turned to Sam, gaze becoming thoughtful.

“So you do what you have to. We have a board if you need one. Cards. I think Bobby even has a crystal around here somewhere.” He swallowed hard and lifted the mug, taking a mouthful of hot coffee that had to have burned his mouth and throat to drink.

“I don’t think I need to do a display, Sam. I can see they’re fine. They’re not changed, not like that guy I mentioned. You on the other hand….” She leaned forward, arms crossing on the table. “You’re troubled. You’re in turmoil over something.”

Jo held her breath, waiting for whatever reading Darla would make.

“You could say that.” Sam sat back in his chair.

“It’s cloudy around you, hard to see.” She squinted.

“What do you see?”

Darla sighed. Her expression was odd, head half cocked, like she was trying to listen to something. She gasped, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t called here to do a reading on you. It was rude of me to say anything.” She bit her lip. “You’re hard to read with a casual glance.” She tried to smile, but it faltered and disappeared in a second.

“Darla?” Ellen set her mug aside untouched. “What did you see just now?”

“Nothing, Ellen. I saw nothing.” She got up. “I should be leaving. I have a long drive.”

She was insistent that she needed to go and Jo escorted her to her car. Sam waited on the porch and Ellen headed back inside after a wave goodbye.

Jo grasped her arm, stopping her from opening the car door. “What did you hear, Darla?”

“Nothing.” She glanced at Sam. “I heard nothing.”

“Come on. I know you were hearing something. You did that whole head tilt thing. I remember that from the McKenzie case. Tell me.”

She licked her lips and crossed her arms. “I don’t know what I heard to be honest. It was faint, almost guttural. Hard to make out, but I thought I heard….”

“What?”

“I thought I heard a voice threaten my life if I didn’t leave immediately.” Her features went slack then and Jo recognized the trance state from previous meetings. Darla was receiving a message of some kind. Slowly, she turned and began to walk closer to Sam. He stepped down to meet her. She said something to him. Jo couldn’t hear what she said, her voice pitched too low. Darla’s hand stretched out.

Sam took it.

They both went pale and Darla began to moan, a moan that rose to a scream. She jerked as though touching a live wire.

He let her go, hands going to his head. He panted, head shaking. Turning, he hurried to the house, wrenched the door open and retreated inside, pushing past Ellen, who’d come to the door.

Jo moved to Darla, reaching to help her up, but the woman pulled away, eyes wide and terrified. “Darla? Are you okay?”

“Fire. Fire everywhere. And heat. So much heat.”

“Darla?”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I don’t --”

“He’s dangerous, Jo. Get away while you still can.” Darla hurried to her car, got in, and was gone.

“Jo! Help me!” Ellen’s voice held a touch of panic.

She ran inside to find Sam on the floor. He was convulsing, Ellen trying to put her belt between his teeth without getting bitten or hit. Jo took over the task while Ellen threw her body across his to hold him down. “What happened?”

“He was muttering like he was talking to Lucifer, crying, and just collapsed.”

In gradual degrees, the convulsions ceased and Sam went limp. Ellen checked his pulse, first at his neck, then wrist. With a groan, Ellen laid on the floor beside him. Her chest heaved from her breaths. “Oh, Lordy, Jo. Did you know he has fits?”

Jo set the belt aside and brushed Sam’s hair from his face with gentle fingers. “No, I had no idea.” Dean hadn’t told her that detail and she wondered why. Nor had Sam mentioned the seizures. Was there a reason they were hiding it? Frowning, she dug her phone from her jeans pocket and dialed. Dean answered on the third ring.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me. We have a situation.”

“What is it?”

“Sam had a seizure just now.” There was silence on Dean’s end. “Dean? Has he had them before?”

“A couple times. Maybe three.”

Sam was stirring, Ellen sitting up and telling him to lie still and not exert himself.

“You knew and didn’t tell us? Why?”

“I thought he was done with them, that they were over. Last one was before Cas raised you and Ellen. I didn’t think he’d have another one. What triggered it, do you know?”

Jo thought about what she’d seen and how he and Darla had reacted to each other. Had it been whatever Darla had told him that caused it? “Not sure. It happened after Darla left a few minutes ago. Darla had a message for him, but I didn’t hear what she said and mom was already inside the house. Darla freaked out, Sam did too, and after she was gone, I came inside and he was on the floor. Mom said he was talking to Lucifer immediately before he collapsed.”

“I think it happens when the hell memories get too intense, but I don’t know. Something in his brain snaps. He doesn’t seem to remember anything about them when they’re over.”

“Okay. What do you want us to do?”

“Is he coming around?”

Sam was awake and looked alert, if confused how he’d gotten on the floor. He kept trying to get up and Ellen kept shoving him back down.

“He’s awake. Mom won’t let him sit up.”

“Make him take it easy.”

“We’ll try. Then what?”

“Then maybe I’ll be back and can take over.”

“Wait.” She shook her head. That was it? Shouldn’t they have a plan of action? “What about medicine? Does he have any he has to take for the seizures?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Dean, fits like this mean there’s something seriously wrong and it’s medical. He needs to see a doctor, get these seizures under --”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I’m unaware that my kid brother needs a rubber room, a daily pill cocktail, and a team of experts looking him over?” His voice was harsh, angry and loud.

“No --”

“Just keep a friggin’ eye on him, Jo! Keep him calm. It’s all we can do.”

Turning, she found Sam sitting, reaching out to her. He looked tired, but okay. “Is that Dean? Let me talk to him.”

“Sam wants to talk to you.” She handed over the phone.

“Dean, hey…. I know…. Don’t remember…. Don’t remember that either…. Uh-huh…. I’ll try…. Here’s Jo again.”

She took the phone back. “So?”

“He’ll try to stay calm for you and when I get back, you and I are visiting that psychic friend of yours. I want to know everything she heard, saw, and said.”

“I’m not sure she’ll see us. She was way freaked when she tore outta here.”

“Then we spring a surprise visit on her.”

“Fine.” The word came out far more snippy than she’d intended and Dean sighed again.

His voice softened. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but this…. It means he’s getting worse and I can’t…. Just watch him. Please, Jo.”

He couldn’t face losing Sam again. “Will do.”

“See you when we get back.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer appeared while Jo explained why she’d called Darla. His expression as he watched the psychic sent a shiver down Sam’s back. In his eyes was pure malevolence and hatred.

“Tell the bitch to get out of here.” Lucifer’s voice was grating and Sam tried to ignore him, but he was standing behind Darla with a hammer in hand, waving it over her head. “If she doesn’t stop, I’m going to bash her brains in, scoop them out, and use her skull for a punchbowl.”

Darla’s head cocked. He could see a curious glint in her eyes, quickly replaced by the seed of fear.

“She’s going to die if she says anything. I’ll kill her right now, sink a knife into her neck so her blood spurts out all over the floor. Bash her head in. Slice and dice and make her into julienne fries.”

The woman made her excuses, her manner abrupt and frightened, though she tried to hide her fear.

Had Darla heard him? Impossible. Lucifer was all in Sam’s head. Though maybe it was possible. She was a psychic after all.

He watched as Jo followed her out, yet when Darla started towards him, he skirted Lucifer and went to meet her. Flames rose up around them, flames that blocked out Jo at the car, and flames that took the grass until it looked like Darla came to him across a lake of fire. He could feel the heat searing his skin, saw Darla’s fair skin flush and her suit begin to smoke.

She stopped a foot away from him. “Mary is worried about you, Sam. She says you have to see what you’re too afraid to see before it’s too late.” Her hand stretched out to him and without thinking, he grasped it. Darla gasped. He could see the flames reflected in her eyes now. She began to moan.

“Don’t listen to this stupid, has-been cow.” Lucifer strode to her, getting right in her face. “I’ll pull your entrails out woman, and make your children wear them as necklaces.”

Darla’s gaze flicked to Sam’s left…directly at Lucifer. Her moan rose to a scream. Lucifer’s hand raised and Sam released her before the hallucination could touch her. She stumbled back, looking wildly about her.

“Didn’t happen,” Sam whispered.

“Look at her run,” Lucifer grinned.

“No!” He whirled, moving into the house, praying that Lucifer would leave. He didn’t, following Sam, standing everywhere he looked, carrying on a litany of hateful words.

“The message is fake. Mary is long gone, Sam. Not to mention that she barely knew you. Why would she even care? Dean was the son she loved.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“You’re the bad seed. What mother wants a bad seed?”

“Stop!”

It was the start of being in the cage with him all over again. Words began it and action would follow.

Lights began to flash before his eyes until they consumed him and he was back in the cage, with Lucifer working him over as Michael stood to the side watching, his gaze cool, calm, and thoughtful. He could have protected Sam like Adam, made a corner for him and kept him oblivious. Instead, he’d watched and waited his turn.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean set his phone down, his stomach feeling like it was sinking inside him. Sam was having more seizures. He’d hoped those were over.

Closing his eyes, he rested his head in his hands. They didn’t need this. Sam didn’t need this. He needed to get well, not sink further into this madness that was beginning to consume him. Jo’s question about medication had hit a nerve. Dean knew what needed to be done, but damned if he was going to do it and consign Sam to hospital hell for the rest of his life.

Not going to happen. Not on Dean’s watch.

They’d figure something out.

After a long while, he returned to his work, flipping through the file and pictures in front of him, mind running a million miles a minute to solve this case. He was getting nowhere fast. The information they had didn’t make sense and he couldn’t seem to make it make sense.

Bobby came through the motel room door and closed it. “Dinner’s on.”

“What the freakin’ hell happened here?”

“You got me,” Bobby replied, setting a bag on the table. The smell of burgers and fries rose up, making Dean’s stomach rumble. “Ain’t like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Begins like demon possession only with that gray stuff. Whatever it is transforms the host, causing their skin to whiten and veins to stand out black under their skin. It drives them to attack other people and kill them in violent ways, sometimes with bare hands. Once the host makes a nice public display of that violence, the gray stuff bugs out, but the effects it had on the host remain the same. They’re changed and cuckoo for cocoa puffs -- and blood, human skin…. I wouldn’t rule out brains at this point. Lather, rinse, repeat. I’ve talked to four other hunters across the U.S. and it’s the same report. Gray stuff, change, violence.”

Bobby set out the food. “No reports of the hosts going cannibal, is there?”

“No, just biting and ripping into the bodies of their victims. They’re not eating, just making a mess. What do these things want? Monsters want something, whether it’s blood, hearts, brains, livers. Revenge. What are these things craving?”

“Violence. Pulling other people apart. Destroying the human body.”

“Yeah.” He tapped a finger on the lid of one cup. “This my shake?”

“Chocolate, just like you wanted, Princess.”

He ignored the comment. “You know,” Dean reached for one burger, “the stuff Cas spits out is gray. What we’ve seen of it anyway.”

“You think it’s connected?”

“Best guess at this point. I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this is just some critter that got loose during the last round of earthquakes.” He dumped his fries out on the burger wrapper, then reached for the ketchup packets, tearing open six and emptying them. “Who knows what the purgatory souls could be now? I mean, we know what happens to human souls in hell, but what happens to monster souls in purgatory? Or what happens to them after they’re filtered through whatever Cas is? We know he lets some of the souls out of him. We’ve seen it.”

Bobby opened his own burger wrapper. “Ellie wasn’t like these things, Dean. She was one of those souls once, escaped directly from it.”

“So maybe it’s not the souls straight. Maybe it’s the Cas connection. Being filtered through Cas, and the corrupted souls from Crowley, has done something to them.”

“Drove them mad?”

“Fundamentally changed what they are. He keeps saying he’s like nothing that’s ever been seen. Could be that what he is launders the souls trapped inside him into something different, and he’s making this monster like Mother of All made monsters only…he’s Father of it.”

“Like Lucifer twisted a human soul only he’s twisting monster souls.”

“Sounds like a theory. Maybe destroying humanity body by body is what they want.”

“You know this is all speculation, right? We don’t even have enough cases to consider the theory.”

He nodded and ate a few fries. “Nothing we can solve here anyway. It’s all done. May as well head back.”

Bobby stopped eating, watching him carefully. “What happened back at the house?”

“Jo called. Sam had a seizure.” He tried to say it like he wasn’t concerned, but knew Bobby saw through it. He read Bobby’s expression before Bobby could say a word. “I know. Believe me, Bobby I know. He needs help that none of us can give him.”

They left as soon as they’d eaten and packed.

Chapter 12

The description Dean gave of the creatures was like nothing Castiel had seen or heard about in the years of his existence. He pondered that as Dean and Bobby’s conversation continued, his train of thought drawn up short as he heard his name, his attention focusing on what they were saying.

The stuff that came out of him was gray. Dean was right about that. The theory Dean came up with was fantastic. He proposed that Castiel was making the monster simply by the souls moving through him. Castiel almost laughed at that until he really thought about it.

He knew he was changed from the angel he’d been, but even he wasn’t sure exactly what those changes fully entailed. It was a thing he hated to admit to himself. So maybe Dean’s theory had a lick of truth to it. It was entirely possible he was a filter of sorts. He decided to track the mist in the area and observe it.

It turned out to be plural and they weren’t difficult to find, only a couple hundred miles away. He watched the pack descend on a group of humans, took in the changes their presence made in each, and touched down in the middle of their circle.

“What do you think you’re doing,” he asked them.

One by one, they left their hosts to circle above him, wisps of gray like a cross between a ghost and demon. These were definitely from him, just a few of what he occasionally had to release. He stretched out a hand, touching one of the humans and was saddened and frightened by what he discovered. He couldn’t heal them. The wisps of gray had perverted the very structure of their bodies, turning them into monsters much like the way a werewolf or vampire turned a person. This was quick, though. A seconds only changeover.

All of his efforts were unsuccessful, only serving to agitate the person. With a quick glance at the humans surrounding him, he regretted the action he had to take. He killed them, all six. It was unavoidable. That he couldn’t heal them or return them to their humanity frightened him deeply and he wondered, if he tried to raise a person from the dead now, would he be able to do it? Were his powers fading? Or was it that he couldn’t deal with these things?

The gray wisps churned against each other as if excited.

“You weren’t released from me to do this,” he told them.

Why were they released? Their question hung in the air, a wordless query he understood and one he had no answer for because he hadn’t released them willingly.

“If you can’t behave, I’ll have to take you back.”

He reached for them and found himself unable to reabsorb them. Panic began to rise inside him, a very real panic that worked through his entire body. He was unable to reintegrate them into himself. His heart beat fast and hard in his chest. First he was unable to heal the damage they’d done and now this. They couldn’t be allowed to remain. He had to take care of them somehow.

The spirits danced about him, their excitement growing as they realized he didn’t have the power to banish them back into himself. They taunted, he pursued. What could he do? How could he keep them from getting out of hand?

I have to fix this, he thought.

One dove into a man walking a dog a little ways down the street. The dog began to bark and as the owner changed, the dog whined, then lowered it’s belly to the ground. The owner wasn’t interested in it, however. The man dropped the leash, bared his teeth, and ran at Castiel. He touched the man’s forehead with his palm, power he still had burning the wisp up into nothing and destroying the human host. It was the same process and power he’d used to burn demons.

He stared up at the remaining wisps as the lifeless body dropped to the ground. “If I can’t take you back, then I’ll burn you into nothing one by one.”

They fled, and Castiel pursued.

~~~~~~~~~~

Scenery passed by in a dark blur, broken only by the Impala’s headlights. At this hour, there weren’t many cars on the road. Perhaps the occasional truck trying to beat a deadline or a person going home from or to work. The little towns they drove through were mostly dark and closed down for the night.

“Will you slow down?” Bobby shifted in the seat, stretching his legs out. Dean’s lead foot had gotten worse as the hours had passed and he’d decided they weren’t making fast enough progress getting back. “We ain’t any good to Sam if we’re both dead.”

Dean shot an annoyed glance his way, jaw clenching to keep back what looked to be a huge yawn. “Got to get back ASAP.”

“I get that, but ain’t no way we’re hitting warp speed any time soon, son. Slow down.”

“Bobby --”

“I’m worried about him, too.”

“We have to do something.”

It was a refrain Dean had been saying since Jo had called and they’d set out. “Sure we do. What?”

“I don’t know.” He swallowed hard.

Dean did know, though, he just didn’t want to admit it. Bobby understood that. They all knew what Sam needed and, like Dean, didn’t really want to admit it. He needed a good doctor and not the sort hunters usually went to. He needed one with a license and the ability to prescribe whatever meds would ease the seizures and hallucinations. “He’s not getting better, Dean. Not unless Cas fixes his melon.”

“That’s not gonna happen. He’s made that clear.”

The conversation was circular and Bobby let it drop. They’d only end up going round and round with him asking what plan Dean had and Dean saying he had no plan but that they needed to do something. Sam was nuts with a capital ‘N’ and getting nuttier by the day. Maybe when they got back, Bobby would sit down with Ellen and see if, between the two of them, they could find a doctor who’d look at Sam and wouldn’t be inclined to shove him in a padded room.

The problem was, Sam’s sort of nuts pretty much guaranteed a padded room for his future. He was headed down the road a lot of hunters came to. Bobby had known of a few who’d checked in for help and never checked back out.

He turned his head and looked out the window. As for Castiel and the demon things they’d been investigating, he thought Dean had a good theory. He even wondered if the Phoenix ash hadn’t completely obliterated Mother, but rather returned her to Purgatory, in which case, she would have been one of the things Castiel had absorbed. If so, could she have fused to Castiel? Could she be what was filtering things?

As a theory, he had no basis for it. She’d burned up and probably just ceased to exist. He decided not to mention the idea to Dean. Why make Castiel into any more than he already was? He’d been changed for the worse and that was bad enough. No sense adding to it.

This whole situation was screwed up. Sam was cuckoo, Cas was off his rocker, the church was making noises about being the one true religion, and they had this new monster to figure out how to fight. Then there was the mess with Jo and Dean.

He glanced at Dean. Did Dean even see his own attachment to Jo? The two were hardly pretending anymore. They’d passed pretend and hit the real stuff. Bobby wasn’t so old that he didn’t remember looking at a woman the way Dean had begun looking at Jo. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d looked at Ellie that way.

The thought of her made him grit his teeth, a pang of sorrow hitting him hard.

Oh, Ellie, he thought. I’m sorry.

She may have turned out to be one of the monsters in the end, but she’d been a damn good woman when he’d been with her. Had she returned to Purgatory upon her death? She must have. It was where monster souls went. Was she being turned into one of those things -- if Dean’s theory was correct? His heart ached for her if that was the case. She’d claimed she hadn’t been the typical monster and he believed her. It’d be horrible for her to be turned into the evil monster she’d denied being.

His hands ached and he looked down at his lap. He’d clenched them into fists. Slowly, he opened them, laid his hands flat on his thighs. Dean and Sam weren’t the only ones who had crap piling up on them. It was there for each of them…and it wasn’t going to stop. With experience came that wisdom. He didn’t share it with Dean. The boy had to have some sort of hope and right now, he was seeing hope in Jo. He was seeing something good in his life and that was what he needed.

He seemed to brighten and lighten up when he was around her. She brought out a spark that had been missing from Dean for a very long time. Hell, she’d even made him laugh. Jo Harvelle was good for Dean and Bobby hoped that whatever changes she brought to him would be permanent no matter what happened in the coming days.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is he,” Dean demanded, brushing past Ellen. He and Bobby had driven straight through with only food and bathroom breaks. Eighteen hours on the road with little to do but speculate on the gray mist stuff and whether or not Sam was going to keep having seizures.

“He’s upstairs resting. I made him take my room.”

Dean took the stairs two at a time, shoving open the door. Sam was in bed, pillows piled behind his back. “Another one?”

Sam sighed, marked his place in the book he was reading, and set it aside. “It just sort of happened.” He looked surprisingly well for a man who’d had a seizure. He looked, Dean realized, like a man who’d had enough sleep, a thing Dean wasn’t too familiar with the past week.

“That makes, what?, four total?”

“I guess.”

“You have any I don’t know about?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Of course not.”

He took a step closer, studying Sam’s expression and deciding he was telling the truth. “You remember anything yet?”

“No.”

“Okay. Ellen and Bobby will be here. Jo and I have to see a psychic.” Turning, he left the room calling for Jo. “Jo! Come on! Burnin’ daylight here!”

She came to the doorway of the room they shared and leaned against the doorframe. Her hair was in a braid and she was in jeans and a t-shirt with a hoodie zipped halfway up. Her feet were bare, nails painted a shade of red. “When was the last time you slept?” She crossed her arms.

“I don’t know. A couple days ago. We drove straight through.” He heard Bobby and Ellen talking downstairs. “Why are you standing there? Get ready and lets go.” He motioned at the stairs. “Get your shoes.”

Her gaze slowly swept over him and he had the urge to squirm a little under her gaze. It was the same look Ellen used from time to time, the one that took everything in. He could definitely tell they were mother and daughter. Jo pursed her lips and shook her head. “No.”

“No?” Dean raised his brows. Surely she wasn’t going to be difficult when she knew how important this was? Her friend knew something and they needed to get that information pronto. “Why not? We’re seeing that psychic friend of yours.”

“Um…not with you not having slept we’re not. I’m not getting in a car with you driving if you haven’t slept in a couple days -- unless you don’t mind me driving ‘baby’?”

“You’re not driving her.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam come to the door of Ellen’s room and look out at them. Was that a smirk on his face?

“Kind of what I thought. Then we’re not going until you take some rack time.”

“Jo --”

She came forward and held a finger up to his face, pointing at him. “It can wait five more hours. Besides, you trying to drive any more now would be like you driving drunk and I grew up taking people’s car keys away for trying to get in a car drunk.”

“I can drive.”

“Sam’s not going anywhere and if I know Darla, and I do, she’s holed up in her house trying to make sense of whatever it was she saw and heard.” Her glance slid to Sam. “And what are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’ve rested since you and Ellen finally let me get up off the floor. I’ve been in bed for pretty much an entire day.”

“The less agitated you get, the better. The only reason we didn’t call an ambulance is we knew how you two,” she flicked a finger back and forth between them, “would react to that. You need rest. Go back to bed and take your temperature.”

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Take your temperature and I’ll know that, too.”

“I’m not napping,” Dean told her, crossing his arms.

“Then we’re not going anywhere.”

“Give me her address.”

“No.”

His level of frustration was rising. “Jo.”

“I know this is important to you, but it’s important to me that you don’t fall asleep at the wheel while we’re on the road. I’d rather stay alive, thank you. So, if you can’t unbutton enough to let me drive your car, we wait until you’ve had some sleep.”

“No one drives my car but me and occasionally, Sam.”

Jo gestured back at the bedroom. “I just put clean sheets on the bed. Enjoy your nap, sweetheart.”

“You know the longer you argue with her, the longer it’ll be, right,” Sam asked, and that was a smirk on his face Dean had noticed.

He pointed at Sam. “You want to shut up?”

With a laugh, Sam held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Just pointing out the obvious.”

“Fine. I’ll rest. But I won’t like it.”

“Not asking you to like it, just to do it,” Jo replied.

With a loud sigh to indicate how put out he was by this, Dean stepped into the room he and Jo shared, gave her and Sam both a fake smile, and slammed the door.

Jo’s voice filtered through the wood. “I’ll be in in a bit to make sure you’re actually sleeping.”

He took off his jacket and laid on the bed without taking off his boots. Dean closed his eyes, determined that he wasn’t going to go to sleep. However, he must have been exhausted because when he woke up, it was morning, and Jo was sitting on the bedside, a hand on his forehead. “Whaddyou doing,” he murmured.

“You slept sixteen hours straight. I didn’t think that was possible without having to get up for a pee break.”

“You didn’t wake me?”

“Tried. You were down for the count. You didn’t even move when I came to bed last night.” Her lips curved slightly, almost and not quite a smile. “You know you snore when you sleep on your back?”

“I don’t snore. I laid awake all night one night and never heard myself once.” He stretched. “You took my boots off?”

“Only when it was clear you were down for the count. I considered putting a blanket over you, but since you always throw the covers off anyway, I didn’t bother.”

“How’s Sam?”

“Fine. Ignoring mom’s advice that he stay in bed another day. He’s out helping Bobby with something I think.”

He licked his lips and grasped her hand. “Can we leave now or do you have another thing you want me to do first?”

She smiled. “Well, I’d think you’d want breakfast, but if you’d rather eat an Egg McMuffin while you drive instead of a home cooked meal, I’m ready when you are. If we leave soon, we’ll get to Darla’s about one or two.”

“I’ll take ten to shower and change and be down.”

The drive would have been fun if not for the circumstances. Jo was good company. She kept the conversation going, yet knew when to let silence fall between them.

“How do you do that,” he asked.

“Do what?” She opened a bottle of water and took a drink.

“Know when to stop talking?”

Her laugh was amused. “Well, that’s not usually what guys say about women.”

“I mean it. You’re good at the whole conversation thing.”

“I had to learn how. Mom would never play the usual car games like ‘I spy’, so being out with her meant I needed to talk. We either listened to music, books, or talked. Her favorite was talking. No one word responses unless one word summed it all up. Mom claimed it’s a skill and the more you practice, the better you get. She said it’d help in the game if I got comfortable with talking and with silence.”

“Ellen has good advice.”

“Not what I thought at sixteen.” She snorted. “Not even what I thought at twenty-one.” Jo turned her head. “Man, I was a brat back then. Maybe she should have locked me in the basement, or taken a switch to my ass.”

“Name me one teenager who isn’t a brat at some time.”

“I’ll bet Sam wasn’t much of a brat.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, the stories I could tell you about that kid. He was brat alright. Pain in my ass. You know he got straight A’s every year no matter how many times we moved?”

“That’s not bratty.”

“It is when you’re me, who’d dropped out of high school to follow dad. Felt like he was showing me up.”

“But you got a GED, Dean. Those are way hard to get. They’re harder than actually graduating. You can’t be dumb and get one.”

“I guess.”

“Tell me more.”

He spent the rest of the drive telling her about their teenage years. The time seemed to fly and it didn’t feel like hours had passed when they pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house. “This is Darla’s house? Being a psychic pay this good for her?”

“There’s other income,” Jo said and got out of the car. She went to the door, Dean following, and pressed the bell.

The door opened. Jo’s friend Darla was built like a modern day Marilyn Monroe, curvy in all the right places. “Jo.” She didn’t sound or look surprised to see them.

“Hey. Had a few questions.”

Darla nodded and looked at Dean, eyes widening a little. “You must be Dean.”

“I must be. How’d you know?”

“Your family resemblance to your brother. I also mentioned to Sam that having more than one second chance at life makes him rare. He said I should meet you. I see what he meant.”

“And that means what?”

“First, it means you’ve got a mark on you, too. I though Jo’s was bad, but yours…. Let’s just say I bet you’re as haunted by what’s happened to you as Sam is about his own experience. Second? It means I think I need to start happy hour a little early today.” Darla returned her attention to Jo and sighed. “Do you have any friends these days who haven’t been dead? Making me kind of nervous for my own mortality.”

Jo laughed at the almost exasperated tone Darla used. “Um…not so much, no.”

“Ahh. Well, as long as you’re here, you might as well come in.”

They stepped past her and as they moved into the house, Dean noticed a wall of photographs. He saw Darla with a man, her with what looked like three different babies, and a picture of them all. Darla had a family. He gestured at the wall. “Nice family.”

“Thanks. Hunter is my oldest, Damon the youngest, and Kaylee in the middle.” She pointed at one picture. “That’s Tim. Tim’s my husband.”

“Starlight?”

She smiled. “Uh, no. Peterson, actually. I still use my stage name when anyone wants my psychic services. People like it and some hunters expect it.”

“You’ve worked with others besides Jo then?” They followed her into a large, sunny kitchen and sat at the table while she poured and brought glasses of iced tea to them. After her happy hour comment, he half expected her to bring out a bottle of whiskey to add to it, but she didn’t.

“I know a few. I do a job here and there, mostly run of the mill things. For example, I found a missing child about four months ago. Her father had killed her mother and the mother led me and one hunter I brought in to the girl. He had her stashed in a cabin deep in the woods.”

“Why’d you bring the hunter in?”

Her head tilted. “The father was a werewolf. Became one anyway. I was under a time crunch when I found that out through the mother’s spirit. We had to get in, get the girl, and get her out before he killed her, too.”

“Ahh.” He nodded. “So you’ve seen some things.”

“Some,” Darla agreed, sitting.

“What did you see this time,” Dean asked.

Darla appeared to think it over, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I had nightmares last night about what I saw. I don’t mean the light kind, either. I mean the kind that had my husband and kids trying to calm me down the rest of the night.”

“Can you tell me anything at all?”

She sighed. “Evil. Blood, pain, and evil.”

“You told me he was dangerous,” Jo reminded her. “You said to get away while I can. Did you mean Sam?”

“I was upset, Jo.” Her gaze was apologetic. “Reacting to what I saw.”

“What did you see?” Dean was beginning to get frustrated by the woman’s refusal to be direct.

Darla looked away, squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head for a long minute. When she looked back up, her eyes were open, tears in them. “I saw evil, Dean, and evil saw me.” She hugged herself. “That face…. Beautiful and horrible at the same time.”

Who had she seen? Was it possible she’d seen the Lucifer Sam always hallucinated? “Who did you see?”

“He looked like a man, but that’s not his true face. His true face is…different. It’s…sort of like light filtered through darkness, if that makes any sense to you. He threatened to pull my entrails out and make my children wear them as necklaces. Can you see why I don’t want to talk about it? Whatever or whoever I saw haunts your brother.”

But was he real or a hallucination? The idea that Lucifer could be real and still somehow be there made bile rise in his throat. How was that even possible? They’d put him back in the cage. He leaned forward. Before he entertained that notion, he had to make sure it hadn’t been a case of her seeing Sam’s hallucination. “You ever touch someone who has hallucinations and share them? See what he sees?”

“Once….” She licked her lips. “This was different.”

“Different how?”

“Well…the first time I experienced a shared hallucination, the hallucination didn’t notice me. I was just there, like scenery. It was like watching a tv show and I was the audience.”

Jo drew in a sharp breath. He glanced at her and she shook her head, declining to comment.

“This time, if it was a hallucination I was drawn into, it noticed me. It looked right at me and made a threat to me.”

“So it was real.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. Does Sam suffer from hallucinations?”

“On occasion.”

“Ahh.” She nodded. “It still felt different. I felt heat, smelled sulfur and carrion. If I got tugged into one of Sam’s hallucinations, then I honestly don’t know how he’s still walking around in the world and not under observation in a psych ward. It was terrible, like what I imagine hell could be. To have visual, olfactory, audible, and tactile hallucinations all combined…. Those are some bad hallucinations, the sort most people couldn’t face and walk around with.” Darla took a long drink of tea. “However, if it wasn’t a hallucination, then something terrible and horribly evil is haunting Sam.”

“How do we know if they’re just hallucinations,” Jo interjected.

Darla traced a circular pattern on the wood of the table with a fingertip. “My best guess would be to treat the hallucinations medically, then see what’s leftover. If he’s still got that walking around in front of him, you’ll have your answer.”

It even made sense as a course of action, though he hesitated to drug Sam to the gills. “Can you tell us about the message?”

“No. I’m afraid messages are only for the --”

“I need to know. Sam doesn’t remember and it could be important. Please.”

Jo leaned forward and put a hand over one of Darla’s. “Please, Darla. It’s really important. You know I’d never have come here if it wasn’t.”

Darla slumped in her chair. Right when Dean decided she wasn’t going to tell them, she nodded. “Okay. It was from a spirit who said her name was Mary.”

He felt cold. Mary their mother? “Go on.”

“The message itself was brief, but she stressed how worried she was to me and that I had to tell him no matter what I may see or hear. She said he has to see what he’s too afraid to see before it’s too late.”

“See what he’s too afraid to see? That’s it?” Was Lucifer there? Was that what he was too afraid to see? Had Lucifer managed to hitch a ride back to earth on Sam’s soul? If so, then how? Surely Death would have noticed an evil archangel clinging to Sam’s soul. Not to mention Castiel should have seen Lucifer hanging out in Sam these past months if Lucifer was, in fact, really there. Since he was set on being God, Dean didn’t think he’d want Lucifer there waiting to take over.

The more he thought about it, the more it made his head hurt.

“Yeah. Does it mean anything to you?”

It sort of reminded him of the messages Sam was getting from the Chuck hallucination. Were they all connected? Were both something in Sam’s head and their own mother from the grave trying to warn Sam of something? It was looking that way. “Maybe.”

“She was pretty insistent. Whoever she is, she’s terrified for Sam. I could hear it. Terror isn’t something you forget, especially from a spirit.”

It couldn’t be good that their mother was terrified for Sam. It indicated to Dean that there was much more going on than they understood. “She didn’t say anything else? Anything at all?”

Darla set her glass aside and leaned on the table. “Do you want me to try to get her for you? I can try. Can’t guarantee success. Sometimes spirits come across with a single urgent message and that’s all they can manage.”

He looked at Jo.

She stared right back. “It’s up to you, sweetheart, but I’d try. If Mary knows something….”

Dean returned his attention to Darla. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” She arched a brow. “But if I see anything weird like I did with your brother, you two both better lose my number and address.”

Part of Dean hoped that there’d be a message for him, while another part thought it’d probably give them more questions instead of answers. Jo rubbed his back with a hand while Darla set up.

Her method was different from others, but then her talents were different. Psychic was a term that actually covered a lot of gift ground. She laid out and lit some candles, took Dean’s hands in hers, and attempted to call for Mary Winchester.

It was quickly clear that she was getting nothing.

After nearly twenty minutes, Darla shook her head and released Dean’s hands. “I’m sorry. Nothing.”

Dean’s attention drifted around Darla’s kitchen, his disappointment running high. His shoulders slumped. “Worth a try, right?”

Darla began to clean up the area, snuffing candles, and straightening the table. “May I ask who Mary was?”

Jo answered for him. “Dean and Sam’s mom.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t have a message for you as well, Dean.”

“It’s fine.” He sat up straight and touched Jo’s leg. “You ready? We shouldn’t take up any more of Darla’s time.”

They said their goodbyes and left.

Chapter 13

The parking lot Dean pulled into a couple miles from Darla’s house was next to a large sign proclaiming the overgrown lot to be the site of the ‘next Church of Castiel’. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Sam,” he told Jo, and got out of the car, moving to pace behind the trunk. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then dialed.

Sam answered on the second ring. “What’d you find out?”

“Mom says you need to see what you’re not wanting to see before it’s too late.”

“Mom?”

“That’s who your message was from.”

“That’s as helpful as Chuck. How can I see something when I have no idea what it is I need to see?”

“You got me. Second, Darla saw someone there and by the delightful words he said to her, I’m betting it was Big L.”

He heard Sam sigh. “Likely. He’d been around that day.”

Dean paused. He thought about asking if Sam had any indication Lucifer wasn’t just in his head, but that was a conversation they needed to have face to face. Over the phone, Sam could lie, withhold things, but face to face there was a chance Dean could see a lie before Sam said it. He needed to watch Sam’s face when he asked that question. “Okay. Jo and I are on our way back.”

“Did Darla say anything else?”

“We’ll go over it when we get there,” he said and hung up before Sam could say anything else. He was contemplating Darla’s suggested method of figuring out if the evil she’d seen with Sam was real. Would it be better to talk to Sam about it first or find a doctor who’d look at him and then give him that course of action? There were problems he could see with either way. If they talked first, Sam would probably refuse, but if he just found a doctor and told Sam he’d made an appointment, or even got him there for it before mentioning it, he risked Sam taking off in anger. Using a method other than their usual one of shoving things down inside and glancing the other way was hard to do because his instinct was to bury it and hope it’d work out even though he knew it wasn’t going to.

He wanted Sam well, however, and if that meant taking a different path, then he’d grit his teeth this time and do it. The seizure indicated that it was definitely getting worse. Not to mention the hallucinations were growing in frequency and he’d had the terrible thought that it might not be long at all until Sam never stopped hallucinating.

Dean got back in the car. Jo did her best to distract him and he was grateful for her attempts. As the time passed, rain began to fall. It came down too hard, in sheets that the wipers could barely keep up with. Soon, he realized they were the only car on the road. There were no cars behind them and none coming towards them. It felt like they were going to slide right off the road every time Dean braked. Inky blackness surrounded them.

“I can’t drive in this,” he said. “Give them a call. Tell them we’ll be back tomorrow.” He heard Jo make the call as he saw a sign and pulled in to a motel. He parked as close as he could get to the building and glanced at her. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”

“Ready,” Jo replied.

They were soaked in the few steps it took to reach the lobby, clothes dripping onto the carpet. The young woman behind the counter didn’t even glance up from her tabloid when he requested a room. She merely quote a price and held out her hand for his credit card. Dean handed it to her, she ran it, returned it, and placed two sets of keys on the counter. He took one set and Jo the other.

The room had pink walls, floral curtains that clashed with the floral bedspread, and smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. Jo went into the bathroom, returning with a stack of towels. She peeled off her jacket, hung it on the chair, and bent, toweling her hair.

Dean busied himself with making sure the door was locked and the curtains were completely closed. Outside, the rain still fell like a waterfall high above them somewhere.

“Hey.” Jo joined him, proffering a towel with one hand. “Here.”

He took it. Her hand was cold and he grasped it, tossing the towel onto the end of the bed. “You’re cold.”

“You’re observant.”

He let a small smile slip free. “We should get you out of these wet clothes.” He meant it as a teasing remark, just one of many pick-up lines he was sure she’d heard many times.

“I could catch cold,” she replied with a tiny grin of her own.

“That’d be terrible. You’d be…cold and I can’t let that happen. I am completely willing to warm you up.” He tugged her close. She came to him without hesitation, body pressing to his. Jo fit well against him. He slid his hands along her hips and to her lower back.

Her eyes widened. “You’d sacrifice your body heat for me.”

“It’ll be tough, but I’ll bear it.”

Jo laughed, her hands moving to rest against his chest. She touched her tongue to her upper lip before saying, “I think the towel will take care of the worst of the water, but thank you for the generous offer. I --”

Lowering his head, he kissed her, cutting off what she was going to say. Her lips parted beneath his, her hands sliding up to clasp behind his neck. The next moments were a welcome blur of desire and reaction. He continued to kiss her and she kissed him. Each kiss was deeper, longer, and more erotic, their tongues twining together. Dean reached for the buttons of her blouse, undoing them, parting the thin fabric and sliding it from her. She pulled his shirt up and he helped her remove it completely, tossing it at the chair her jacket was on. Her bra was the next to go.

Bare flesh met bare flesh and he bent to press kisses across her breasts, exploring her curves. Jo arched against him, a soft groan leaving her lips. Her nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing. He danced her back to the bed, sweeping his hand across her stomach and tracing his fingers across the place he knew should be scarred from the hellhound. There were a thousand things he wanted to do right now and had been dreaming of doing, a thousand…. She opened her eyes and Dean saw the uncertainty there.

He didn’t want uncertainty from her. When they happened, and he was sure they would, he wanted her without one single possible regret. This wasn’t a one-night stand. Jo would never be that to him. If he pushed this right now, there could be regrets from both of them.

With the last of his shaking willpower, he released her. “You know what to say.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “No.” The word was a whisper.

Dean nodded. “You need to put your clothes back on.”

Jo moved away, reaching for her bra and blouse and pulling them on. Her eyes were wide. “Dean….”

He shouldn’t have teased her with that line or even pulled her into an embrace. He shouldn’t have given in. Dean swallowed hard. “I know.”

“We should probably sleep in our clothes tonight.”

“Might be a wise idea,” he agreed, head still filled with ideas he wasn’t going to be able to implement.

She gestured to the door. “I, uh, I think I’ll go down to the restaurant for awhile. Have some coffee.” She sucked in a breath, one hand shoving her hair from her face. “Maybe ice tea instead. Something cold.” Her attention fell to the floor and the burgundy carpet.

He found his shirt and tugged it on. “Okay.” She undid the lock, grasped the door handle, and yet seemed reluctant to actually leave. Dean took a step closer. “Jo?”

“Yeah?” She turned her head and looked up at him.

He stretched his hand out, nearly touching her blouse before he changed his mind and dropped that hand back to his side. “Your shirt is buttoned up wrong.” The left side of her blouse was a button higher than the right.

Looking down at herself, she cleared her throat. “Oh.” She fixed it. “I’ll be back after awhile.”

“Sure. Take your time.” Maybe he’d take a cold shower and a sleeping pill and be asleep before she got back. Then he wouldn’t have to lie awake in the dark thinking erotic thoughts about her.

Five minutes passed. A knock sounded on the door.

Since he knew Jo hadn’t forgotten her key, he looked out the peephole. Castiel stood there waiting. He stepped back, blinked, and looked again. Still there. This was a new development and a strange one. He’d never shown much reluctance to simply materializing wherever Dean was. He opened the door. “Yeah?”

Castiel glanced at the door, which Dean suddenly realized blocked the view of the bed. When he spoke, his voice was low. “May I come in?”

“Why are you asking this time?”

“I assumed Jo was…with you since she wasn’t at the house and I apologize for interrupting any delicate moments. I can wait while she dresses.”

He took some comfort in the fact that, had he let caution slip to the wind and tried to finish what they’d started, this visit would have interrupted them anyway. However, the apology and the courtesy when Castiel was short on both lately confused him a little. What was Castiel up to? He looked him over, noting that his coat wasn’t as immaculately clean as usual and that Castiel appeared tired. His tie was askew and Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to know what those dark smudges on the coat were. “She’s not here.”

Castiel’s expression shifted to something Dean thought was annoyance. Was he really annoyed that he hadn’t interrupted something? “I trust you know where she is.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. She went to get coffee. She’s downstairs in the restaurant.” Opening the door wider, he left it for Castiel to close and returned to the bed. He stretched out, pillows piled behind him. “This rain your doing?”

He closed the door. “No. Slow-moving storm system working it’s way across fifteen states.”

“This visit have a reason?”

“Always. The creatures you’ve been seeing have been taken care of, but if you hear of more, I need to know.”

Dean almost smiled as he read between the lines of Castiel’s words. Sam had been right. Cas wasn’t all-knowing and all-seeing. He noticed it now that it had been pointed out. “What are they?”

“They aren’t anything. Not any more. They’re removed. However, there may be more. I need you to inform me if you come upon them. Don’t attempt to engage them yourselves. I’d hate to see any of you changed by them.”

“Can’t you just use your godness and locate them yourself?”

“I’m very busy, Dean. I have a world to run. I like to employ a few select humans to watch certain matters for me.” He touched the papers on the dresser, held one up, and glanced at it.

Those words made his blood seem to slow like sludge in his veins. Dean felt the vein in his temple throb. “Excuse me?” Was he saying what Dean thought he was? Was he admitting to the very thing they’d speculated he might use his church for?

“There are some individuals I’ve asked to watch various matters. I’d like you to watch for more reports of those creatures.”

“What kind of matters?”

Castiel looked over his shoulder. “Nothing that concerns you. Why? You look worried, Dean? Why are you worried?”

“No reason. It’s just whenever any supernatural thing has had people spying for it, it’s never been good. Sort of reminds me of Zachariah.”

“Ahh.” He nodded. “It’s not like that, I assure you. I’m not keeping tabs on you. I can find you easily whenever I want. I’ve no need of others to watch you.”

Not consoling. He didn’t want Castiel to be able to find him whenever he wanted.

“There are earthly matters that need watched.” He set the paper back down. “Peace talks in the Middle East, the war in Africa, the China situation. Not to mention the war over gas. The delicate balance of the world is teetering.”

The peace talks were always going on, this war in Africa was new, China was a threat off and on, and gas had been a problem for years. Paying high prices sucked. As for the delicate balance, maybe if Castiel pissed off Death enough, Death would swoop in and take care of him himself.

“Dean.” Castiel leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed. “I’ve been thinking.”

A phrase that brought trepidation. Dean raised his brows in question. “About?” The last time he’d said something to that effect, he’d raised Jo and Ellen from the dead.

“Why haven’t you taken Jo on a romantic trip? A ‘honeymoon’. I understand it’s what couples do after marriage. This trip to see her friend doesn’t count. You need be alone together to rejoice in your union.”

They’d almost been rejoicing not fifteen minutes earlier, though Castiel’s definition was obviously a little different than Dean’s. He put his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. “When have I had the time?”

“You’ve had months, approximately three of them. You should have taken her immediately after I gave her to you.”

Castiel had been running the earth nearly six months. Hard to believe it had only been that long. It felt like much longer for that and shorter than three for Jo and Ellen being back. “We’ve been working. Sam and I out. Jo’s been doing the wife thing like you wanted.”

“She probably would have appreciated the gesture, not to mention the indication that you’d think of her first in your life together. She would have felt special to you. I should have insisted you take one then.”

Had he been watching daytime talk shows or something? Had to have been what with his talk about Jo feeling special and such. “Jo has no complaints and she feels plenty special with me. Why are you so concerned about this?”

“Your life with her should be perfect, Dean. You need it to be. I want it to be.” He was restless, pacing the room, a hand going to his stomach, then side, rubbing across there like he had an ache. “You’ll have time now to take her. Pack and go after you return to Bobby’s house.”

“Honeymoons require some sort of planning,” he protested.

“Hasn’t Jo been planning a trip for you?”

“Not that I know of.” Or had she? Was that one of the projects included in her plan? She hadn’t told him every single detail.

“Then what has she been doing with her time?”

“Planning how the two of us can live our lives together when you won’t let her hunt. There’s adjustments we both had to make and still have to. It’s not an easy, instant process.”

“I realize that.” He dug his hand into his side. “Still, I suppose you’re doing better with her at three months than you did with Lisa at three.”

At the mention of Lisa, he clenched his teeth tightly together. “We’re fine.”

Castiel stopped pacing beside the bed, his back to Dean. “Why were you visiting a psychic anyway?” He turned, hand falling from his side. There was blood smeared on his shirt where his hand had been. Dean could see the fabric was stiffened. Whatever had happened had been within a few hours. His coat had been obscuring the stain before.

“Are you hurt?” Dean narrowed his eyes at the stain. “That your blood?”

“It’s nothing.” He moved the coat edge back over the spot and took several steps away from Dean. “The psychic?”

He didn’t deny that it was his blood. “She saw Sam a couple days ago. He had a seizure and couldn’t remember what happened, so Jo and I went to get information.” He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and gripping the edge of the mattress with his hands. “You know we wouldn’t have to visit psychics if you’d just fix him, Castiel. You keep saying you’re God, then fix him. You can take care of this. I swear if you do it right now I’ll bow down. I’ll profess whatever you want.” At that moment, Dean meant it. If Castiel would just fix Sam finally, he’d get down on his knees and praise him.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He looked away, his next words soft. “I can’t.”

“You can’t. You keep saying that, too. You can’t fix him because he betrayed you and this is his punishment. Well, that sucks and you suck.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood. “If you wanted him to suffer for whatever his betrayal was, then he’s suffered. He’s suffered enough.”

“No, I --”

“Either fix him or just freakin’ go away.”

Castiel stared at him, almost like he wanted to say something, but then he simply disappeared from view.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ice cream on Jo’s brownie sundae was fast melting into a puddle around the slab of brownie, but she merely picked at the dessert. She was too busy dissecting what had just occurred in the room, her mind going over every detail.

She was still flushed, could feel that her cheeks were hot and she supposed that coffee hadn’t been such a good idea after all. It went well with the dessert she’d spontaneously ordered though.

Jo scooped a bite of deep chocolate brownie, homemade fudge sauce and ice cream onto her spoon and took a bite. It was good, but no substitute for finishing what she and Dean had started back in the room. It would be fair to say that he’d actually been the one to start it, yet she had to take some of the blame herself for encouraging him up to the point where he’d pulled away. Jo didn’t know why he’d drawn back, but was glad he had. She needed time to think because she wasn’t sure she was ready to take that step and become fully entangled with him. She had to ponder that step and the consequences.

To take it would mean crossing the line that would change their relationship forever and she was comfortable where they were at. It was a safe place. Jo liked being friends with Dean Winchester. She liked that they had a history and could talk about practically anything. Sex had a way of messing things up and she really didn’t want their relationship messed up, yet it was difficult to deny they both wanted things to get physical.

Sleeping in a bed with him was getting to be as fraught with danger as a minefield. It was becoming far too easy to lean over and kiss him or lay close, snuggled against him. The awkwardness of that particular situation had come and gone. With a sigh, Jo admitted to herself that she wanted him to wake her in the middle of the night no matter what the consequences ended up being. She wanted the sort intimacy with him that sex would bring about. Back in the room she hadn’t wanted to stop and knew that if he hadn’t pulled away, she would have let that line fly right on by.

It was time, wasn’t it?

She made the decision. Her next answer would be yes, the step would be taken, and everything was going to change.

“Why are you sitting here alone eating dessert and drinking coffee?”

She coughed as the second bite of sundae went down wrong. Castiel had appeared in a blink across from her. She’d had no warning sensation this time, nothing to indicate he was there. He was more disheveled than usual. His coat had dark stains on it that looked like ash and his white shirt was similarly stained.

With a snap of his fingers, he had a cup of coffee in front of him as well. He drew his coat across him, closing away her view of his shirt.

Jo saw her server look their way, her hand slipping down into the pocket of her apron and drawing out what looked like a phone before she turned away. “I wanted coffee and the sundae looked good.”

“You didn’t invite Dean?”

“I told him I was getting coffee. He didn’t come with.” She stirred the melted ice cream. “What’s the big deal? We’re not attached at the hip, you know.”

He flicked a finger at the now sad melting mess of sundae. “That looked good?” His voice held doubt of that fact.

“I had a chocolate craving.”

“Craving?” His gaze lowered down her and she quickly guessed what he was thinking.

“I’m not,” she told him. “It’s the month by month thing.” Hard to be pregnant when there wasn’t any sex actually happening.

Disappointment sparked in his eyes. “I see. Your menstrual cycle is normal?”

“Uh…so far.” Not exactly a subject she wanted to discuss with him. Was he really sad she wasn’t pregnant? Weird. If he was God, he’d know if she was or not. She thought they’d definitely established to themselves that he wasn’t God. Jo ate a big bite of sundae, took a long drink of coffee to fortify herself for whatever this was about, and asked, “What do you want?”

“I can’t talk with my subjects?”

“Never inferred that. You’re awfully touchy.”

“It’s been a long week.”

“Didn’t think God felt things like that.”

“Then you didn’t think,” he snapped, then glanced around them.

She sat back with an annoyed snort of laughter. “What do you want, Castiel? Because if you don’t want anything, I’d like to finish my sundae in peace.”

“I want you to tell me how you and Dean are. Assess your relationship.”

“We’re fine.”

His lips pressed tight together. “You get along?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t mind his moods? His nightmares? His surly disposition when stressed?”

“He doesn’t mind those in me. Why would I mind them in him?”

His head tilted a little, the questions continuing, rapid fire, one after another. This was that round of interrogation she’d been waiting for. Her heart beat fast, pulse racing, because one slipup would see the end. Castiel leaned forward, increasing the speed of his questions, giving her no time to think. Jo was glad she’d asked Dean the questions she had, for Castiel went over it all.

He paused, then went for the kill, though the question was hardly what she’d expected. “Do you love him?”

“Yes.” The word slipped out and she swallowed hard and looked away, blotting her perspiring palms on her jeans. Love. How could she love Dean? She felt like she was still getting to know him, like she’d never be able to know everything about him if she tried. Love. Where had that come from? When had that happened? When she returned her attention to Castiel, he smiled just a little.

“It is good for a woman to love her husband.” He sat back and sighed. “I’m pleased you’ve developed deep feelings for Dean. You can’t know how happy I am to know that, Jo. You’ll be going on a honeymoon shortly after you return to Sioux Falls. I’ve spoken to Dean already.”

Honeymoon? She blinked and he was gone. Jo paid for her dessert and returned to the room. She opened the door to find Dean in bed, flipping channels on the tv. A closer look revealed he was checking out the porn movie channels. Not exactly what she thought needed to be on at present. “I hear we’re going on a honeymoon.” She took her shoes off and sat in the chair at the table.

“He certainly gets around. What’d he want from you?” The tv clicked off.

“Asked me a lot of questions.” She was careful what she said. He could still be there. “Mostly about your year out. Wanted to know what you’d told me.”

“I see.” The mention of that year turned him pensive and sad the rest of the evening, and Jo didn’t have to think about a repeat of earlier. Dean turned out the light on his side of the bed not long after she came in and pretended to be asleep.

She turned her light out around ten and laid in the dark listening to the rain outside until finally, it lulled her to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Morning dawned bright and sunny. Jo didn’t even move while he got up. She was curled on her side with the covers pulled tight against her. Dean let her sleep.

He was nearly dressed again when his phone rang. It was Sam. He answered it. “Hey, Sammy. What’s up?”

“Did you know Jo’s on tv,” Sam asked without preamble.

“Tv?” Dean turned on the channel Sam indicated and, sure enough, there was Jo, sitting in a booth and managing to look beautiful and pissed off at the same time. Castiel sat across from her and it was obvious they were having a heated discussion, but the film didn’t have sound. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“That’s what Ellen said.”

“Wonderful. Hey, see if you can’t find some place for me to take Jo for a honeymoon type thing. Something good. Something she’d like.”

“Honeymoon?”

“We’ve been ordered to take one by the great and powerful wizard.”

Sam laughed. It was good to hear him laugh. Meant he was having a decent morning so far, possibly Lucifer free. “Probably should have seen that coming.”

“Probably.” Jo had seen everything but that, it seemed. “We’ll be back in about three hours or so.” He hung up and turned up the sound.

The anchor, not the same one who’d broken the story on Ellen, was behind the news desk. “Who is this mysterious young woman? We went to the streets for opinions.”

A pretty young redhead said, “Well, I don’t know who she is, but why does she get his attention? What’s so special about her? How do I get in on that? I pray to Castiel all the time and he’s never appeared to me.”

An older man wanted to know, “Why’s he spending all his time on women? Am I the only one noticed this? First that middle aged woman and now this young one? Don’t we men count for something?”

There were other comments, one that was rather rude about Jo’s looks, and he reached out a hand, placed it where he thought her hip was beneath the covers and shook.

She roused with a groan, rolling over slowly. “What?”

“You’re famous, just like Ellen. Or is notorious the word I’m looking for?”

“Huh?” She sat up and sat, blinking sleepily at the screen. Her hair was tousled. She yawned, then squinted. “That’s the restaurant downstairs.”

“And that’s you.”

She yawned again. “I’m on tv.”

“There’s Castiel across from you.”

“Why am I on tv?”

“You’re still half asleep, aren’t you?” He leaned back against the headboard. “I’m honored to be in the presence of a celebrity. Will you sign my chest?”

Jo crawled forward to get a closer look at the screen. “Son of a bitch! That’s last night.”

“It’s all over the channels, too, according to Sam.”

“My turn for fifteen minutes, I guess. Maybe this’ll annoy Castiel enough that he’ll stop accosting us in public places.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Why are you up so early?”

“It’s after eight, Jo.” He got up and reached for his boots.

“You let me sleep.”

“You had a rough night, what with being grilled and all. Get up. Let’s get breakfast and get moving.”

All the way home, Dean tried to decide how to handle Darla’s suggestion, but by the time they arrived, he still hadn’t made a decision.

~~~~~~~~~~

After not getting much sleep the night before due to Lucifer, Sam stretched out on Bobby’s couch. Bobby was out in his shop and Ellen was working on invoices for Bobby’s business. Since it’d be awhile before Dean and Jo returned, he decided to take a quick nap. He fell down into sleep as though he’d been yanked there.

Sam dreamed of the hallway again. It was darker this time, the light flickering on and off. There were puddles of blood on the floor. He looked down at himself. He was wearing pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. His feet were bare and he was standing maybe an inch from one puddle. He took a step back. He could smell the coppery scent of the blood.

In front of him was a scattering of bricks and rubble.

Sam.

He studied the hallway in front of him. The voice came from the door. It was a mirror to the one leading into the light area behind him. Like all the other doors, it was closed.

Sam.

Carefully, so as not to step in any of the puddles, he went to the door and touched it. The wood felt more like steel than wood. Reaching down, he grasped the handle, curious as to what was behind that door.

Before he could turn that handle, a buzzing noise began, the already flickering lights going out completely. He heard the sound of someone breathing and shivered as a cold breeze swept down the hall. Sam released the doorknob and turned. The lights flared back on.

Blood covered the walls, doors, floor, and ceiling.

Sam ran down the hall, towards the light. The light was safety, he knew that, but the harder he tried to reach it, the further away it seemed. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached.

Mocking laughter came from behind him, from the closed door, and he felt heat begin to rise. Slowly, he turned. Flames began to lick upward --

He woke with a gasp to find Dean crouched beside him, shaking him. Concern was in his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He sat up slowly, the dream fading fast even as he tried to hang on to it. “I was dreaming.”

“No kidding. You were doing this weird moaning thing, like you were trying to scream and couldn’t.”

“I was…. There was blood. I remember blood everywhere.”

“Sounds bad.”

“It was. I think.”

He got up, went into the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. His hands were shaking and he buried his face in them. The dream was important, he knew it, but all that remained of it was the blood.

Chapter 14

Notes:

The Dean J. Mahogoff reference is from S2 ‘Playthings’ and ‘Born Under a Bad Sign’, credit card and cell accounts.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom, Dean was still the only one in the living room. Ellen and Bobby weren’t there and neither was Jo. “Where is everyone?” Sam grabbed a straight chair and sat the wrong way, crossing his arms on the chair back, his glance falling on the wall behind the desk.

Chuck was there, standing against the wall with his arms crossed, watching them. Seeing Sam notice him, he lifted two fingers in a wave, like a friend would do.

Some of the tension drained from Sam’s shoulders. At no time had Chuck and Lucifer ever been present together. If Chuck was here, then Lucifer wouldn’t be.

Leaning forward in the chair, Dean started to remove his boots. “Jo and Ellen are upstairs and Bobby had to make a run. Accident on one of the county roads.”

“Ahh.” He nodded. “You said yesterday that we’d go over what else Darla said when you got back. You know, right before you hung up on me? So spill. What’d she say?”

“We need to talk,” Dean said, though he looked like talking was the last thing he wanted to do.

“What do we need to talk about? Cas?” Sam’s attention slid to Chuck.

“No. Big L.”

Chuck shifted position slightly.

“No. I don’t want to talk about him. Isn’t it enough that I have to hear him all the time? I don’t want to talk about him too. I’m tired of it, of him.”

“Come on, Sam.” Dean was tired, too. Sam saw it in his eyes, in his posture, and heard it in his voice. He was just as tired of it as Sam was.

“I’m not going to a doctor or hospital.” He’d be committed for sure and hard telling when he’d be able to get out. He’d decided. He wasn’t ready to take that sort of step. Maybe he never would be. “You know what’ll happen if I do. Do you want me to be committed?”

Now Chuck moved forward. “Dean has your best interests in mind. You know that. You should listen.”

“Darla had a suggestion and it sounds like it could help. We get you on meds and see what hallucinations are still standing once you’re under.”

“Is that all?” He snorted. “You have any idea how many different medicines there are to treat my symptoms? It could be years of looking to find one that’ll even work for me.”

“Will you just consider it? I won’t let them commit you. If we find a doctor familiar with what we do --”

“No.” To Sam’s left, Gwen and Arlene appeared, a scene he recalled witnessing. Gwen’s face was blotchy from tears and Sam remembered they hadn’t been tears of sadness, but rather of anger. She’d busted her butt to pull off a job Samuel had discussed and Christian had gotten the credit for it running smoothly. He looked to see if Chuck was still there and found him watching Dean. Interesting. Both kinds of hallucinations showing up at once. “I’m not seeing a doctor or going to a hospital. It’s not what I want to do.”

Dean slumped back in the chair. “I think you should.”

“I don’t. End of subject.”

Chuck circled Sam, then leaned down and said at his ear, “Since you won’t open your eyes, Sam, maybe you should medicate yourself. Cover matters over until you’re ready to see. You can’t see until, deep down, you feel you can handle it and obviously you don’t feel you can handle it yet.” He stood and shrugged, then strolled towards the front door and disappeared.

Sam cleared his throat. “When were you ordered to take a honeymoon?”

While he half expected Dean to refuse to change the subject, Dean let that change stand. “Last night when Jo and I stopped to wait out the storm.” He stretched his legs out. “He showed up, actually knocked on the door instead of popping in. He thought Jo and I were in bed.”

“And he out of the blue told you to take one?”

“He’d observed it’s what couples do. You get a chance to look up any places?”

“Not yet. Fell asleep. I’ll work on it tonight.”

“Needs to be something she’ll like, something she’ll think is fun.” He jiggled one foot, then glanced around. “Something else. He’d been hurt. His shirt…” Dean motioned at his side, plucked at the fabric there. “It had this bloody spot. He kept rubbing at it like it hurt or itched or something. Wouldn’t tell me about it, said it was nothing.”

“But he was hurt, so it was something. Somehow he was injured enough that it made him bleed and still feel it later.” That was a good thing. It told them he could be hurt now. He was weakening.

“Yeah.”

“It’s about damn time.”

“No kidding.”

“If he was hurt, injured, and didn’t heal right away, then he’s losing powers. He’s starting to bleed them.” It was a tiny spot of hope in the situation at large. Now if they could figure out how to make him really bleed, they’d be able to make plans to kill him.

With a paranoid look around the room, they left that topic and brainstormed honeymoon ideas until Jo and Ellen returned downstairs. The two passed through Gwen and Arlene as they came into the room and the hallucination faded away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Within two days, Sam and Dean had found what Dean thought was perfect. He went upstairs into the bedroom while Sam made the last of the arrangements for him. Jo was on the bed playing cards.

He clapped his hands together once and rubbed them together. “Alright, pack a bag.”

Jo looked up from her game of solitaire. “Wait, we’re going? I thought you and Sam had a job.”

“Bobby said he’ll take it with him and Ellen insisted she was going, too.” He looked through his own bag, making sure it wasn’t all dirty clothes. “Plan for about five or six days. Maybe two travel time. That should pacify Cas and count as a honeymoon.”

A slow, amused smile turned her lips. “You seem strangely excited about this.”

“Just get a bag packed.” Between himself and Sam, they’d come up with an idea that was probably stupid, but something Castiel couldn’t complain about because it wasn’t real.

They’d found an amateur ghost hunting tour. Four days of exploring a spooky Colorado mansion, grounds, local cemetery, and town. Sam had dug up two hunter testimonies that it was all smoke, mirrors, and fake, with nothing that was even remotely real. The site was dead and Dean thought Jo would enjoy mocking everything about it.

They left the house not long after Sam, Ellen, and Bobby left. He avoided telling Jo where they were going, much to what appeared to be her aggravation. She spent the drive asking questions that he ignored or gave silly answers to. When they pulled up in front of the mansion turned hotel, she whistled.

“Wow. This is unexpected.”

“Come on.”

Inside, she let out another low whistle. “Fancy.” Jo studied the entry hall, head tipping back to look at the carved ceiling. “Don’t think I’ve ever stayed in a place this swanky.”

Dean pretended he wasn’t checking it out as well, adopting a nonchalant air about the mansion. He thought he might have seen this house on America’s Castles once. “Nothing but the best for you, honey.”

“Uh-huh. We’re really down at the Super8, right?” She jerked her thumb towards the parking lot.

“Nope.” He took her hand and started towards the front desk. “Got a reservation and everything.”

“Again, wow. You really are taking this mandate seriously. What one earth did Castiel say to you the other day?”

“Just wait.” At the desk, he smiled. “Hi. Reservation for two.” He took a credit card from his wallet and held it out. “Mahogoff. Dean J.” He’d used the name before and recently pulled it back into use. Enough time had passed that he thought it’d be okay.

The clerk ran his card, then handed him their keycards. “You’re on the second floor, room 206. It’s to the back of the house. Take the main stairs, make a left, take a right at the second hallway and you’re all the way back at the corner.”

“Thanks,” Jo told him, pocketing her card.

“And here’s your welcome packet for the tour.” He held out a large manila envelope.

“Tour?” She reached for it, but Dean beat her to it, snatching it up.

“Thanks.” He started back towards the front doors.

“What tour are we going on?”

“You’re gonna want to be surprised on this. Trust me.”

For a minute, he thought she was going to argue and try to take the envelope, but then she shrugged. “Okay. I trust you.”

They retrieved their bags from the Impala and, as they walked up the grand staircase Dean told her, “Sam and I stayed at this sort of place before.”

“You two? I can’t see it.”

“We have. The first time we did…. Place seemed kind of nice at first, a little spooky with dolls all over and crap like that. We were the last guests. Can you believe the owner thought we were gay?”

She laughed. “People jump to conclusions and you two let them half the time I bet.”

“Maybe. Place had a ghost problem. A little girl almost died.” They reached their room.

“But you stopped the ghost and saved the kid, right?”

He thought back a few seconds to that case. Sam had saved the girl and the ghost had gone. He’d forgotten that. “That we did.”

Their tour guide and host was a man named Rex Thornton. He was short, skinny, and talked with a British accent -- when he remembered to. His real accent was all New Jersey.

The delighted grin Jo gave Dean when she realized what sort of tour he’d brought her on made him grin in return. Slowly, their group was ready. There were six of them and Rex. Ten minutes into the man’s spiel, Dean discovered he was right. Jo began to ask questions designed to irritate the snot out of Rex.

“Are they any questions so far,” Rex asked.

Jo’s hand shot in the air and she did the ‘pick me’ bounce up and down on her toes until he pointed at her. “What do you do if someone gets hurt?”

“911.” Rex looked at Jo like she was mentally slow.

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “What do you do to the ghost?”

“What do you mean ‘do’ to the ghost?”

Now she looked at him like he was slow. “If it hurts someone or kills them?”

“Ghosts do that,” one nervous man from Missouri asked. He looked around like he expected the house to swallow him whole.

“No, they don’t,” Rex said with a sigh. “Lady, you’ve been watching too many horror movies. House on Haunted Hill isn’t real.”

She smiled sweetly and cocked her head. “The original or the remake? Because in the original, the haunting was fake.”

“The remake. Geez.”

He could see Rex labeling her in his mind, quite rightly, as a troublemaker. Dean was feeling rather relaxed, all things considered. Turned out, pretending to be seeing things was sort of fun, especially when it scared the crap out of everyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo couldn’t believe Dean had done this for her. He’d brought her to a fake ghost hunting set-up. It was as close to being back in the game as possible except it was fake and she could mock every step the ghost hunter made.

Dean had to be the sweetest guy ever.

She smiled as she opened up the folder of local literature in their room. It was filled with brochures for restaurants and things to do. On the fourth page, her smile faded. The fourth page was a full page add for the Church of Castiel. The fifth page, dedicated to other local churches, had all but the Roman Catholic church crossed out. Rome was beginning to really fight back, going straight to the book of Revelation to battle the Church of Cas. The ‘Castiel is the Antichrist’ movement was being funded by them now and all of the leaders had ceased to be killed.

Either Castiel had gotten bored with killing them, or he no longer cared with his church as big as it was.

“Where we going for dinner?” Dean finished filling two containers with salt. He pocketed one and held the other out to her.

She took it and slipped it into the inner pocket of her jacket, right beside her knife. “Haven’t gotten to the restaurants yet.”

“Hurry up. Let’s get food before the night tour begins. We’ve only got an hour, Jo.”

“I think we have plenty of time. Not like Rex would ever find anything.”

She was having the time of her life and was very glad Dean had brought her here.

~~~~~~~~~~

According to Dean, Jo was enjoying herself and it sounded to Sam like Dean was having fun as well. Good. They both needed that. Smiling, he hung up.

Beside him, Chuck returned that smile. “This trip will change their relationship, make them closer.”

It was the most Chuck had said in the three days he’d been a constant hallucinatory companion. As Sam had once said, this hallucination didn’t bother him. Chuck was a soothing hallucination. He hadn’t said anything cryptic, but neither had he answered Sam’s questions about past messages. His ‘presence’ gave Sam a reprieve from Lucifer and he felt almost normal for the first time in a long time. However, Ellen and Bobby kept giving him looks that indicated they were worried about how long this calm would last. They all knew he hadn’t been miraculously healed from his problems.

“So?” Ellen raised a brow. “They having a good time?”

“Jo’s been harassing their guide, Rex. Dean said the first two days have been surprisingly fun. Apparently, she gave Rex so much grief that he invited her to lead them down some spooky path and show off her bravery.” He laughed. “She did and didn’t bat an eye at any of the gags he’d set up along the way. Even pointed out a few before they were sprung. Dean says it’s now war for the next two days only it’s not fair to Rex because he’s unarmed.”

“At least there’s no bodies.”

“Yet.”

“Sam!” It was Ellen’s turn to laugh. Probably because it was true.

He held up his hands. “Hey, I have every confidence in Dean and Jo’s ability to find or cause trouble, especially Dean’s.”

She sobered and gestured at the iPad. “You find everything we need?”

“Sure. And then some.” An ache began to form at his temples. It hadn’t been until the ache was gone that he’d realized it had been with him ever since he’d put himself together after Cas broke the wall down.

The door opened and Bobby came into the motel room. He took off his good coat, hung it on a hangar, and loosened his tie.

Chuck stretched out a hand and gripped Sam’s shoulder the same way Dean did. It was a comforting gesture, a way to urge him to be strong.

The ache slid away once more and he was able to concentrate until the next day when they had the cursed object they’d been after safely put away. Chuck disappeared somewhere around the time they managed to get the cursed coffee mug put in a special box. Sam stood waiting for Ellen and Bobby to finish with the owner.

A warmth began to grow at his back, the scent of sulfur and burned wood rising up. He heard a crackling, like the rush of flames engulfing a structure, and then Lucifer spoke. “How did you do that, Sam?” He stepped up next to Sam, eyes narrowed and voice accusatory. “How did you keep me away? Are you…taking something?” His gaze slid over Sam. “No, that’s not it. Something else. What are you hiding from me?”

He bit his cheek and tasted blood.

Lucifer’s smile was almost tender in nature. “I’ve missed you. Let me show you how much.”

The hallucinations began.

~~~~~~~~~~

Being God wasn’t everything Castiel had thought it’d be. The daily sifting of souls was, in reality, a boring task. When he’d transformed, he’d decided to sift them himself in order to continue adding to his powers, only it wasn’t working like it had before he’d been transformed. What did seem to give him a boost, however, were the numbers of voices raised in praise towards him. When he was close to one of his churches and he heard their songs of love and worship, he felt strong, invincible, and unstoppable.

He finished with the daily sifting. A few went to heaven, a few to hell, and a few to him. He’d tried to catch the souls bound for Purgatory and failed. They disappeared into that territory before he could touch them and he’d been unable to change the way that had been set up by his predecessor.

Castiel visited two of his churches, new ones, and went to find Dean and Jo. He was sorry he hadn’t noticed the server had been filming that conversation he and Jo had had. He’d taken care of that the same way he had the time Ellen had been on tv. Jo shouldn’t have been bothered by anyone the past few days.

Since Dean and Jo been obedient, he was of the mind to give them a gift, something to display the affection he was feeling for their submission to him. They deserved a show of love from him. It was time to give them a blessing.

He knew what Dean would ask for. He’d want the same thing he always wanted: Sam fixed. But Castiel was unable to fix Sam. Whatever ailed the man still slid from Castiel’s grasp whenever he laid hands on him. He’d even become convinced that Sam’s illness was mocking him somehow, which was impossible. Illness didn’t mock. Illness wasn’t a living thing to mock. Yet Sam’s evaded him with something very much like a skill, hiding inside his mind. A continued frustration.

What would Jo ask for? He suspected she was going to want the one thing she couldn’t have. She’d want her freedom to hunt and that wasn’t in his plan for her.

Maybe he’d increase her fertility, make Dean’s dream of a family a more real prospect. Ellen had said it was a bad idea and while he’d agreed at the time, doing so was a sort of gift to Jo and Dean. It’d give them a better chance than chance alone.

He could do that or perhaps he’d cordon off Sioux Falls, make it a no creature zone, and hide them from those things that would hurt them all.

By the time he found them, he had quite a few choices to present them with and was even excited to talk to them. He touched down, his smile fading away as he observed the scene before him.

The first thing Castiel felt upon seeing them in a cemetery digging up a grave was surprise. He thought he’d made it clear that Jo wasn’t to be out hunting. She was supposed to leave that life behind and create a new, safer one. She was to give Dean a family. It was the entire purpose behind her being raised from the dead.

The second thing he felt was anger mixed with a hefty dose of disappointment. They were out on a job. They were disobeying. Jo was disobeying. He stood, rooted to the spot, watching with fists clenched at his sides. If they’d lied about her involvement in work, what else had they lied about?

Dean was doing the digging, Jo standing by ready with salt and, presumably, a lighter. She held a flashlight so Dean could see.

Castiel knew the two ghosts were coming long before they arrived. He decided not to intervene just yet. If Jo got hurt a little, it would remind her how hard this life was. He could always step in if the danger became too great for either of them. It’d be good for her to have that reminder.

But there turned out to be no need of his assistance. Jo and Dean worked well together and, vaguely, he recalled Ellen saying that Jo had cut her hunting teeth on ghosts. They were what Ellen had insisted they start with after she’d found Jo.

Still, this was a flagrant flouting of the rules he’d put forth for Jo. If she died, he’d have to raise her again and he’d promised Dean she’d be safe from harm. He was going to have to discipline her.

Closing his eyes, Castiel bowed his head.

When he was through disciplining her, he’d have to discipline Dean as well, because Dean had been there. He knew as well as Jo what her role was and this wasn’t it. He didn’t want to, yet like children, they apparently required having their memories refreshed on what he’d ordered.

But not now. Now, Castiel needed time to think on the sort of punishment the two would respond the best to. He slipped away to lend further consideration to the crime.

~~~~~~~~~~

They were covered in mud and muck from digging up two graves and left their shoes and jackets by the door to take care of later.

Dean gestured at the bathroom as he pulled off his shirt. “Shower is all yours, Jo.”

The hunt had been exhilarating there at the end. When the ghosts had shown up and begun terrorizing the group, killing one member and injuring another, they’d been the only ones who hadn’t backed down. Rex had run away. Dean and Jo had stood their ground, gotten the group to safety, done a spot of research, and saved the day. The ghosts were gone and Jo had enjoyed the entire process.

Her joy in it had in turn given him joy. For a moment, Dean had remembered what joy in the life felt like. He’d remembered his twenties, before his dad had disappeared, and how he’d been carefree and happy with where he’d been. He’d enjoyed his work once and having this hunt with Jo reawakened that. A strong burst of nostalgia had been brought forth from somewhere deep inside him.

Taking the items from his pockets (car keys, wallet, change, and lighter), he moved to drop them on the table. Behind him came the rustling of cloth and no answer from Jo. “Jo?” Turning back to her, he found her standing naked, her clothes strewn about on the floor.

Stepping to him, she hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and tugged him against her. “I was sort of planning on you joining me. I really need help soaping my back.” She worked the buckle of his belt and raised up, pressing a kiss beside his mouth. “And my front….”

He didn’t resist the temptation.

The shower was foreplay, their hands moving over each other in sensual trails, washing away the sludge from the hunt. Their mouths met, over and over, and it was a miracle neither of them slipped and fell trying to get back out of the tub.

At the doorway back into their room, Dean paused, one hand on her hip, the other cupping one breast that fit perfectly into his palm. “Tell me no,” he ordered her, already knowing that wouldn’t happen. He could see it in her eyes. There was no stopping. Not this time. They were going to move forward no matter what it brought in the future. He knew it and so did she.

Her hands slid across his shoulders. “Yes.”

There was a sudden lump in his throat and Dean swallowed hard past it. “Jo.”

Raising her hands, Jo cupped his face, thumbs rubbing against his jaw. “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m getting myself into.” She nodded. “Yes.”

He was happy to note a short while later that she had not, in fact, been re-hymenated when Castiel had raised her from the dead.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer hadn’t stopped his assault on Sam for two days. He’d been a constant presence, a flipside to those three days with Chuck.

“Stop,” Sam whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. They weren’t stopping. Lucifer wasn’t stopping. “Please,” he pleaded. Desperation rolled over him like a wave.

“You know you love me, Sammy boy.”

He had to make it all go away and there was only one tried and true method of doing that that he knew of.

Reaching out, he grabbed the knife that had been on his belt. Sam drew it across his arm, hissing at the pain. Lucifer’s image wavered and he drew the knife across again, making four cuts before the image disappeared entirely. In relief, he smiled, then looked down at the blood dripping from his arm. The smile faded, replaced by dread.

What have I done, Sam thought, horrified that he’d done one thing he’d swore he wouldn’t do again. He’d hurt himself. Staunching the blood with a cloth, Sam cried.

For a long time, he stared at his image in the bathroom mirror. Shame that he’d given in to the urge to hurt himself welled up and he reached for the doorknob. He stepped out into the hall and made his way to where Ellen and Bobby were. Sam stood there, not saying anything until Ellen looked over at him.

“You okay, sweetie?”

He blinked, tears sliding down his face, and held out his arm. “I need help.” Sam shrugged. “I can’t stop him without….”

“What did you do,” Bobby asked, getting up from his seat.

Slowly, he lifted the cloth, revealing the four cuts, then put the cloth back over them. “A temporary fix.”

Ellen came to him, hugged him, and touched his face with gentle fingers. “We’ll get this figured out. We’ll take care of you.”

He let her doctor the cuts and when Bobby handed him a sleeping pill and glass of water, he took both. Maybe it’d be best if he just slept until Dean and Jo got back.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Your daughter is a magnet for weird,” Dean announced to Ellen when he came through the door and saw her there in Bobby’s chair.

She put down the notebook she was perusing. “I could’ve told you, but you never asked me. What happened?”

“Our supposedly dead site had not one, but two freakin’ ghosts running around. I had assurances it was all fake, Ellen. Two hunters Bobby knows. Garth and some other guy named Bud.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Did we ever. The look on her face when she realized it wasn’t a prank and we had live ones…. She was happy, Ellen. My God, she was practically glowing. It was…. I haven’t seen her this happy since Cas brought her back. She really likes the work.”

“She does,” Ellen agreed. She contemplated him with slightly narrowed eyes. “You look different.”

“Different?” He went to the couch and sat.

Jo came in, dropped her bag on the floor, and grinned. “You tell her about the supposed ghost hunter screaming like a little girl and running away? Tough guy my ass. Those ghosts totally owned him.”

Ellen’s brows rose. “And that’s what’s different.”

“What’s she talking about,” Jo asked him. “What’s different?”

The soft smile that curved Ellen’s lips was a bit sad. “Nothing, sweetie. Just me talking out loud.”

“Uh-huh.” Jo clearly didn’t believe her, quirking a brow and waiting. When no further explanation was forthcoming, she dropped the subject in favor of her favorite one at present: the honeymoon. She’d been talking about the fun they’d had all the way back. “The ghost hunter’s name was Rex. Pretentious much?” She flopped down onto the couch. “You could tell he’d never seen anything really spooky in his life. The guy knew nothing. He didn’t even know about salt or iron.” She leaned over and rested her head on Dean’s shoulder. “He was pathetic.”

“How’d your thing go,” Dean asked, putting an arm around Jo.

Ellen got up and set the notebook on the desk, her back to him. “Coulda gone better. Bobby’s got four stitches in his arm, Sam screamed like a banshee all one night and got us kicked out of two motels, and I broke Sam’s iPad.”

“What were you hunting?” Her voice and manner was odd, like she was holding something back.

She snorted. “Cursed object. Would have been fine except Sam saw birds again. That spooked the owner who really does suffer from the fear of birds.”

“Ornithophobia,” Dean supplied for her.

“Yeah, that. Funny, thing, too, and not the ha-ha sort. Sam was fine for three days. No hallucinations or seizures. Was like they were just gone. He was like his old self and then….. Man, it hit him hard when it came back around. Anyway, the owner panicked, ran into Bobby, knocking him into a sharp piece of metal jutting from the railing on his front steps, and in the process of trying to catch Bobby, I dropped the iPad and stepped on it. That made me lose my balance and I fell, too…back down onto the iPad. It was like a Three Stooges routine, Dean. The two set off down the street, Sam ducking from imaginary birds and the owner ducking too because Sam said there were birds. Took me half an hour to calm them down so we could get Bobby fixed up and then Sam had muttered arguments with Lucifer all the way back.”

“But you got the object put away safely, right?”

She turned and stared at him. “Dean….”

“What?” There was something seriously wrong. The sadness in her eyes was too deep. Beside him, Jo sat up, also seeming to sense trouble. “Ellen, what’s wrong?”

“There was an incident.”

“What kind of incident,” Jo asked.

“Incident.” Cold slid over him in a rush and he got a very bad feeling about Ellen’s next words. “Is Sam okay?”

“Yes and no.” She came to the chair to the right of the couch and eased back into it, leaning towards him slightly as she spoke. “We got back a few hours ago, he went into the bathroom, and came out half an hour later with a towel pressed to his arm. He’d cut himself four times trying to make Lucifer go away. He’s indicated he’s willing to get treatment now if we can find a doctor who won’t commit him and won’t ask too many questions.”

Dean sat stunned. Before he and Jo had left, Sam had been adamant about not seeing a doctor, but whatever had happened in the past week had made him change his mind. “Where is he?”

“Sleeping. We bandaged his arm, gave him a sleeping pill, and made him go lie down. I’ve been checking on him every twenty minutes or so. He should wake up in a few more hours.” She sat back. “Bobby’s out seeing a couple docs he knows and I’m going through my own contacts. We’ll find someone who’ll help him. Between all of us, there’s got to be someone.”

Dean hoped that Darla’s suggestion would give them answers and that, when Sam was medicated, no hallucinations would remain standing.

Chapter 15

Notes:

The quote is from the S5 episode ‘The End’.

Five days after returning from their trip, Jo lounged on Bobby’s couch, texting Dean despite him being right outside only a few feet from the front door. She was feeling giddy and very happy, ignoring the sensation of being watched because she knew it was only her mother. Ellen was trying to read the paper and kept shooting curious glances her way. Each snicker Jo made at one of Dean’s comments garnered a shake of the paper and a glance, but she didn’t care. Jo was happy with her relationship with Dean.

The step Jo had been apprehensive about had been taken and neither she nor Dean had backed down after or had second thoughts. In fact, she was glad their bedsprings didn’t squeak and the headboard wasn’t right against the wall. They were having trouble keeping their hands off each other now when they were in the same room together. Upstairs, it didn’t matter. They could be all over each other. Everywhere else, they needed to show some restraint out of respect for everyone else. Her words, not his.

She was stifling a giggle at a raunchy text from Dean when she noticed Castiel. He stood at one doorway staring at her with a disappointed frown. She sent a text back to Dean, letting him know Castiel was there, and set her phone down. “Hi.” Something in his expression told her this wasn’t going to be a light and easy visit. He was here for a reason.

He sighed, head tipping back a fraction. “Hello.” His gaze found Ellen. “Ellen, would you excuse us please? Jo and I have a matter of disobedience to discuss.”

Slowly, Ellen closed and folded the paper. “Disobedience?”

“Yes. Leave us.”

Alarm lit Ellen’s eyes and she set the paper aside, going as far as the kitchen, where she stood and watched.

Castiel didn’t seem to expect her to move any further away, returning his attention to Jo as soon as Ellen got to the kitchen.

When he didn’t say anything right away, Jo shifted uneasily on the couch. “What disobedience,” she asked. It could be anything, any one of those matters she’d introduced to test her boundaries while still making him complacent. He could have figured out what she’d been doing because he wasn’t stupid.

“You went with Dean on a trip this past week.” He raised a hand, making a quick gesture in the air.

She opened her mouth to answer and discovered she had no voice. Jo’s throat was dry, the words she tried to loose not coming out. He’d taken her voice away. That didn’t bode well for the conclusion of this so-called discussion. It meant he wasn’t wanting discussion at all, but rather to tell her what she’d done wrong and punish her without allowing her to defend herself.

Where was Dean? He should be coming in any second. She looked at the doorway, hoping to see him walk though.

“You went into a cemetery, dug up graves, and disposed of two ghosts.” He said it all in a bored tone, as if relating what the weather had been the past few days. Beneath that tone was the sense that he was tightly wound and the wrong action from her would make him snap.

The hairs on her arms raised up.

It didn’t feel safe for her to remain stretched out on the couch and she stood, moving towards her mother and taking the chance that it might anger Castiel further. She didn’t turn her back to him.

Castiel strode slowly towards her, a step for each one she took, his hands clasping behind his back. “What did I say the day I raised you?” The flicker of anger in his eyes was growing.

It had to be a rhetorical question since he’d taken her voice away. Jo was beginning to feel like she might throw up, nausea rolling in her stomach.

“Do you remember? I do. I said you were to be Dean’s wife, not a hunter. You were raised to be a wife. Did you not understand what I meant by that? I’d thought you did. You’ve been performing that task well.” His jaw clenched, his left eye twitching twice.

Outside, the gentle breeze kicked up to a wind and thunder sounded.

Her heart kept beating faster and faster in her chest and she tried to breathe normally. If she started breathing too fast she could pass out and didn’t want to be unconscious in front of him. While awake she had the illusion of being able to fight whatever he was going to do to her somehow. If she passed out she’d be completely helpless.

“All of the tasks you’ve been doing. The adjustments. I thought you were forming a deep connection with Dean, attempting to create a life for the two of you.”

“Cas, don’t you think you should,” Ellen started, but an angry stare from him stalled her words.

“I’m not speaking to you, Ellen. Hold your tongue until you’re spoken to.”

She blinked, eyes narrowing. “She’s my daughter.”

“And she disobeyed. Did you never discipline her when she disobeyed as a child?”

“Of course I did.”

“I’ll do the same here…to all of you.”

Ellen opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, then closed it again. It had been a very long time since Jo had seen her mother this frightened.

Castiel shook his head, hands sliding into his coat pockets. He licked his lips, glanced at Jo and uttered what sounded almost like a sad laugh. “I’ve left you alone to connect, given you the privacy to be intimate. You told me you were getting along well. The steps you’ve been making towards a life with Dean have all been logical and you’ve been good for him, like I knew you would be. You even confessed to loving him.” He shrugged like he didn’t know what to say.

Jo edged away from him.

“Was it all a lie? A ruse?” His expression changed, sadness merging with the anger. He looked like he was going to cry at that idea, like she’d betrayed him. Did he think she’d betrayed him? Was he now equating her with Sam and thinking up imaginary betrayals to justify hurting her in some way? “Were you…playing me?”

Her legs felt weak and perspiration slicked her palms. She shook her head in denial, mouthing the word ‘no’, despite the fact that it was the truth. She had been playing him. Well, at first. Now, her relationship with Dean was something like what he’d wanted for them in the beginning.

Dean came through the door, took a second to notice each of them and placed himself between her and Castiel. “Stop!”

Castiel’s attention didn’t move from Jo and he blinked rapidly, peering around Dean. “So what do you do? You take the trip that was supposed to signify the twining of your lives together and use it to hunt. I don’t…. How could you hunt when you knew it wasn’t your place? How long has this been going on, Jo?”

“It was my fault,” Dean blurted, hands held up in a placating gesture. “I swear it, Cas. It was all me. Jo didn’t even know where we were going until we were there.”

His oddly emotional stare turned towards Dean. It looked like there might even be tears in his eyes. “I’m aware of your transgression as well, Dean. I fully expected disobedience from you at some point because when have you ever done what you were told after John died?”

“That’s free will for you.”

“I suppose it is. But why disobey on this matter? I mean, if you care for her, love her, and cherish her. Why take her on a hunt when you knew it’s no longer her place? When you knew you’d both be punished for it? Explain your reasoning to me. I don’t understand.”

Jo pressed against Dean’s back, feeling the solid strength of him against her. She laid her cheek to his back and prayed that he’d manage to cool Castiel down before Castiel did something rash.

“Okay. You said to take her on a honeymoon. I did. I found an activity I thought she’d like. It was supposed to be harmless fun. A spooky ghost hunting tour. Mock the amateurs, have a good time pretending. We didn’t know the site was really live. I’d had two hunters assure me it was dead.”

“And yet you stayed when you realized.”

“I should’ve just left two murderous ghosts running around? That’s a good plan.”

He made a noise of frustration. “Don’t turn this around, Dean. You should’ve called someone else in and taken your wife from danger.”

“Called in who? Sam, Bobby, and Ellen were out. Half the hunters I know are either dead, in jail, hospitalized, and the other half aren’t easy to get hold of. Those ghosts could have killed again and again before anyone got out there. We were there, they were there. Seemed common sense to take care of it.”

“You kept her in direct danger. As her husband, you’re to protect her. You weren’t protecting her.”

“You think I don’t protect her?” He snorted. “She handled herself just fine. Did you see that? Were you spying on us long enough to see that or --”

“We should all calm down.” Her mother edged closer in slow steps, like she was approaching a wild animal. Jo lifted her head from Dean’s back. She supposed the analogy could work. Castiel was like a wild animal at times.

“Tread carefully, Ellen,” Castiel warned.

“I can get you the names of those two hunters who confirmed the site was dead. Check them out yourself. Dean and Sam did their research, but unfortunately, the research was faulty through no error on their part. It happens. Jo had no idea where Dean was taking her, so she couldn’t have known.”

His eyes narrowed and he gulped in a breath.

Jo grasped Dean’s shirt. This emotional side of Castiel wasn’t one she wanted to see. He appeared almost more dangerous this way.

Ellen flinched, but forged on. “As for them staying, that might be my fault. Regarding Jo anyway. I tried to teach her to clean up messes when she found them or stumbled into them. They stumbled and…well, you know how Dean is. There was no other option for either of them in their minds but to stay and fix things. To save the civilians. You know that. It wasn’t their fault the site was live. I’ll bet they acted without thinking about the consequences here.”

Sam and Bobby came in, the door slamming behind them.

“It’ll happen again,” Castiel said in a sepulchral tone. “She’ll hunt and she’ll get herself killed and I….” He shook his head over and over. Right then, Castiel looked as desperate as Jo felt. “I have to remove her memories and knowledge of hunting for her own good.”

Dean whirled, crushing her to him and Jo closed her eyes tightly. It wouldn’t do any good to try to hold on to all of her memories, but she tried anyway, dreading the feel of Castiel’s touch to her forehead. She breathed in the mixed scents of Dean’s aftershave, laundry detergent, and oil from his work outside and waited for the world as she knew it to end.

Other arms encircled her and she opened her eyes to find herself surrounded. Dean and her mother made the inner protective circle and Sam and Bobby the outer one. Between them all, there was no opening for Castiel to get at her. She unclenched her hands from Dean’s shirt, laying her palms flat on his chest.

“You’ll have to go through all of us to get to her,” Sam told him.

“This…gesture…is temporary. You can’t circle about her forever.”

Dean’s voice was harsh. “Do you want to hurt me, Cas? Because if you do this, if you touch her, you hurt me.”

Hadn’t stopped him with Sam. Jo was curious where he was going to take this.

“It’s her mind, Dean, not yours.”

“Wrong. You…married us, joined us as one according to traditional thought on the subject. Two into one flesh, remember? By that definition, anything you do to Jo, you do to me. You hurt her, you hurt me. You take her memories, you’re taking mine.”

To Jo’s surprise, Castiel backed down. “You honestly believe that?”

Dean’s hands swept along her back and he took a long breath before saying, “I do.”

There was a lengthy moment of silence. “You’ve accepted her as a part of yourself.”

“I….” His cheek rested on the top of her head. “Yeah. I do.”

Jo could hear his heart in his chest, beating as fast as hers.

“I should still take her memories for her own protection, but you do have a point. I gave her to you to be as one….” The resolve in Castiel’s voice wavered. He sounded uncertain. “Very well. I won’t take those from her this time. Consider this a warning.” His next words were for her. “You’re a wife, Jo. Please remember that. Do you want to die again pursuing a hunting career, a thing that would leave Dean grieving for you once more? Your death would put guilt back on him. Do you want that?”

The words implied that he wouldn’t raise her again. Odd. He’d promised Dean that she’d be safe and he was reneging. He’d let her stay dead if she died on a hunt.

Castiel disappeared, but the embrace they all held her in didn’t lessen for a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Why couldn’t Jo be obedient? For that matter, why couldn’t Dean?

Desperation was what Castiel felt right at that moment. It was strong enough to bring nausea up and he swallowed in an attempt to tamp it down.

Things were starting to fall apart, really fall apart. He couldn’t fix Sam, couldn’t reabsorb the things that had been set free from inside him, and now….

If Jo died, he couldn’t bring her back. He knew because he’d been testing his abilities while he’d considered what punishment to use on them. He’d tried saving a few people who’d just died and failed to resurrect them. That ability was gone no matter what he did. Taking power from the souls had no effect. He’d binged on souls to test that. It was as if he’d overloaded his battery completely and lost the ability to get that power back. His inner battery was losing a charge and he was incapable of recharging. As an angel, getting power from souls had worked, yet as whatever he’d become, it wasn’t working anymore. Was it the souls from purgatory that had caused this shift? He’d been able to recharge for weeks after he’d been changed, so that explanation didn’t make sense. Why was it happening now? Why was he losing his abilities?

There was no making sense of it. Something crucial had shifted inside him and he was deeply afraid of what it meant in the long run. If he couldn’t recharge, he couldn’t continue in his current capacity as God and the idea of being without these powers nearly gave him an anxiety attack.

After all, he’d had…moments with many powerful creatures these past months, from pagan gods to the remaining Alphas. If it was made known that he was losing his powers, they’d come gunning for him.

Castiel’s mouth went dry and he stared at Jo.

Why? Why couldn’t she just obey like he’d asked of her?

He was broken and was thus unable to keep his promise to Dean to keep Ellen and Jo alive and safe forever. So how did he ensure that Jo remained safe and lived to have that life with Dean? He decided that the best thing to do was to take the knowledge from her. Without it, she couldn’t go traipsing around getting herself killed.

He wasn’t surprised when they circled her and tried to protect her. Jo was loved by them all in varying degrees and ways. She was one of them. It was almost heroic and he hesitated, taking in the tableau they presented. They’d all sacrifice to keep her safe.

Perhaps he should reconsider this action.

Dean was right. Marriage did mean the souls joined as one and intertwined. A good point.

It wasn’t that he wanted to take her memories. They were integral to who she was just as much as such memories were to Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Ellen. Taking them away would make Jo no longer herself, which would negate the very reason he’d raised her. He’d raised her because of who and what she was to Dean in the past, which certainly included the hunter part of her. Therefore, if he took her memories, he’d be taking away one of the connections Jo had with Dean, making her less than perfect for him and breaking the very bond he’d sought to encourage between them.

He paused again as Dean went on. Surprise worked through him. At no time had he truly expected Dean to accept Jo as a part of himself and yet here Dean was, admitting to that.

Perhaps he was being hasty.

By doing this, he’d have to go into the core of Jo to get all of her memories and knowledge. Her father had been a hunter. She’d grown up knowing about the life, seeing it around her. He’d be taking a chunk of her self away from her.

In a blink, he could see that his urge to do this to protect her would backfire. He’d be creating a sort of Lisa situation. They’d feel they had to protect Jo and it’d cripple them. With Jo unable to defend herself, they’d be left wide open to attack. She could be taken, used against them (like Lisa), and it’d end badly. Dean would regress and Castiel would have destroyed all of them. Taking this action would accomplish nothing. It'd give none of them peace or safety.

This is wrong, he told himself. It’s the wrong decision to take her memories.

He made it a warning instead, a threat designed to scare Jo into being safe. He even pleaded with her a little and laid on the certainty of Dean’s grief and guilt if she died again. Maybe if he scared her enough, she’d do as he asked.

Castiel left them, made it as far as the field down the road, and vomited up gray mist in agonizing heaves. His emotional moment at the house took a heavy toll on him. He sighed deeply as the mist fled. He didn’t want to hunt it down and knew he had to. The things needed to be destroyed before they could work on humans, but there was so much else he had to do as well.

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he shuddered. Everything was falling apart, but…. He had to keep it together. Had to. He couldn’t let any of them see he was weakening, though he was afraid it was already too late for that.

~~~~~~~~~

Nearly a month after Castiel had shown up with punishment on his mind, they found a doctor willing to look at Sam. The search had been a group effort of combing through all of their individual contacts, including the ones Sam had picked up through the Campbell family. Dean had expected it to take longer, like maybe months and months. A single month felt too easy.

He pulled into the parking lot and fought a sense of déjà-vu as he looked up at the structure. Jackson County Sanatorium. He remembered it from the future vision Zachariah had given him, though it was obviously not in the same condition that version had been in. This was a business in good standing in the community and still operating. He’d looked it up after Bobby and Ellen had found the doctor.

It wasn’t the most soothing location to meet, but the doctor had a hectic work schedule and asked them to come to him. Dean would feel lucky if Sam didn’t bolt. Hell, he was almost ready to bolt himself and they hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet.

Sam reached for the door handle. “Not going to commit me, huh?”

“Tell Lucifer to shut his pie hole.” Sam had relayed some of Lucifer’s worst comments and suggestions as they’d driven and he was sick of them. “Doc said he’d be back in the garden for lunch.” He led the way, knowing where to go. Zachariah had created this place pretty well, right down to the rose bushes.

In his nightmares, he still sometimes heard those words Lucifer had uttered: ‘Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here. I win. So, I win.’

And here they were. Sam, Lucifer, and Dean. It wasn’t 2014, but they were all here in some way.

Dean shoved that memory and thought aside.

Doctor Marcus Allen was a small man, skinny and with the sort of features a person could easily forget five minutes after meeting him. He greeted them with a tiny, welcoming smile. “Let’s chat, get a sense of what your lives are like.”

“Lives?” Dean jerked a thumb at Sam. “He’s the one we’re here for.”

“But you,” he glanced around the garden and leaned closer, lowering his voice, “hunt as a team. Give me the highlights so I have an idea what’s been happening before we talk about anything deeper.”

They met every day for six days and on the doctor’s day off they had a longer session. Throughout the time with him, they learned that he’d dealt with a few hunters in his day and that he’d had his own supernatural troubles, hence his willingness to see Sam even though they couldn’t really pay him. They left with a prescription and stern orders to keep him apprised of any side effects and changes in Sam’s symptoms. If one pill didn’t work, he’d prescribe another.

After procuring the pills, Sam poured the first one into his palm, glanced to his right, then at Dean. “Here we go.” He popped the pill into his mouth, washed it down with most of a bottle of water and sighed. “I guess we wait and see.”

An hour later, Dean’s phone rang. It was Ellen and he answered. “Hey, Ellen. What’s up?”

“You boys able to swing out to Oregon?”

Ellen’s voice had an urgency to it and Dean glanced at Sam. They could get there for sure. It was debatable if they’d be able to do anything once they got there though. Depended on the sort of side effects Sam had. “What do you have for us?”

“Something strange. The description bystanders gave is like a demon possession gone wrong. Smoke was gray, not black --”

Dean perked up. “Gray.” He sat up fast. “Got video?”

“A couple phone ones up on YouTube, but they aren’t real clear. I’ll send you the links. Reports say the stuff changed the guy physically, and drove him mad, that he started attacking his tour group members. Guy got shot, smoke jumped ship to one of the other members, hop scotched and finally fled. The people that were changed all got shot when they wouldn’t stop.”

The drive was uneventful and within hours, he and Sam were standing over the bodies in the morgue. Dean frowned, studying every detail, committing each to memory, while Sam made notes.

The bodies were hideous. They looked like something from a horror movie, with the white skin and dark veins standing out. There was even some facial reconstruction on two of the bodies where bones had shifted. He’d seen bodies like this before when he’d been out with Bobby, but these were a first for Sam.

“These bodies aren’t human,” the coroner, Michelle Lonergan, was saying. “They should be and they’re not. We’ve done test after test. I mean, that guy there, that’s Lonny Archer. I’ve known him for years, but tests confirm it’s not him. I’ve got video that shows it was him minutes before this.” She shook her head. “Can you explain that, agents?”

“We’re receiving similar stories from other states,” Sam told her. “Are you sure the samples you took weren’t contaminated?”

“We did multiple tests from each corpse.” Michelle crossed her arms. “What is this? I mean honestly. You guys know something, right?”

“No idea.” Dean circled the body. “Could I get a copy of your report?”

“Sure.” She glanced at the door. “I’ll do that.”

When she was gone, Sam put the notepad away. “She’s spooked.”

“Whole town is. Tell you the truth, I think I am too.” With a gloved hand, he touched one black vein. “Geez. It’s hard like wood shoved under the skin.” Grimacing with disgust, he took off the gloves and disposed of them.

“What the hell are these things, Dean?”

“These are what Bobby and I saw and Cas told me to look out for.”

“You going to tell him about these?”

Was he? Maybe. Maybe not. He hadn’t decided yet. “I don’t know. If I do, maybe he’ll take care of these, too. Then again, for all we know he’s hiding them somewhere to bring out later.”

Sam stepped to two of the other bodies, raised the sheets and looked at them. “Strange how we’re the only ones showing interest in these bodies. I’d think the CDC would be all over this. A strange mist that changes people into something less than human? The speed it works at? This area should be quarantined by now, no one in or out.”

Dean agreed it was weird. Like the last time with Bobby, no one on a federal level had arrived and while people were spooked, they weren’t on the sort of level these bodies should cause. “Castiel maybe?” It was almost like people lost interest as soon as the reports went live, which was definitely up Castiel’s alley. He’d done that with Ellen and Jo’s tv appearances. Even the comments on the YouTube video had tapered off right after it had been put up. If he was concerned about these things, he might have arranged this reaction somehow to keep people calm.

Soon they had the report in hand and were walking down the street to the parking lot. The evening was fairly quiet and chilly. He drew his coat closer against him. Maybe they should try the restaurant right down the street. It seemed lively and the smell of steak coming from it made his mouth water and stomach growl. He could hear the sounds of conversation and crunches of gravel from a car leaving that lot. “Man, am I ready for a hot meal --”

“Wait.” Sam grabbed his arm and pointed.

At the Impala was a gray mist, resting up against the driver door. Couldn’t be fog, as it was too concentrated and seemed to be alive in the way it shifted at the door. Dean was reminded, of all things, of a person standing there. “What the hell,” he whispered.

“Looks like a demon.” Sam released his arm.

“Demons aren’t gray, they’re black.”

“I know, but it still looks like one.”

The mist separated into two, but remained where it was, defying the wind that swept the parking lot.

“It’s waiting for us,” Dean said, studying it, trying to decide if they should turn and run or make some sort of stand.

“Then it’s self-aware and knows what it’s doing.”

“No, Sam, I mean it’s waiting for us.” He gestured down the street. “Parking lot of a busy restaurant right over there, so what’s it doing at my car?”

“Maybe we should back away real slow and go somewhere else for awhile.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He took a step back. “We’ll call Castiel this time.”

At the name, the mist charged forward. Dean had the impression it was suddenly angry. One gray smoky thing dove at Dean and he fell back, hitting the ground hard and knowing there was no way he was going to be able to evade it. He gritted his teeth and waited for the feel of it sliding into him and changing him forever. To his surprise, it stopped an inch from his lips. Damn, the thing looked so much like a demon! Perhaps they should call these things purgatory demons. Wasn’t as creative as Jefferson Starships, but was accurate. They were from purgatory and they looked like demons.

It circled him, seemed to churn in front of him, and rose sharply into the night sky. He got to his feet and turned. The same thing happen to Sam, the thing poking at him, then fleeing. Dean went to him, reaching down to help him from the ground.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why’d it stop?”

“Hell if I know. You carryin’ iron?”

“Not this time.”

“Silver?”

“Amulet Ellen gave me.” He drew it from beneath his shirt.

Dean went down a list of possible things that may have stopped the attack on them and came up with silver. It was the only thing they had in common. He was wearing a silver ring and had a silver bead on the bracelet he was wearing. “You think silver stops them from possessing someone?”

“Working theory. Maybe if it stops them from possessing someone, it could also hurt them?”

“How do you hurt smoke?”

Sam had no answer to that and they made their way to the Impala.

After a long, excellent dinner at a restaurant near their motel, where they rehashed the attack several times, Dean stretched out on the bed with a glass of whiskey while Sam was in the shower. He put an arm behind his head and sighed, his mental images straying to Jo.

Her wrapped in a towel combing her hair out. Her sitting cross-legged on the bed, head cocked while she listened to him. The welcome in her eyes when he and Sam returned to the house. He’d lay in bed with her and think about the indent of her waist and the curve of her hips beneath his hands and how perfect they felt to him. He’d close his eyes and remember her rolling over in bed to face him, hands reaching for him.

He took a sip from the glass. They’d had a close call with Castiel and she was playing it safe for awhile. It wasn’t what she wanted to do, but she was doing it because there was no telling what Cas would do if she wasn’t complying. They’d stopped him from taking her memories, but there were many other things he could do to hurt her. He’d accepted Lisa and Ben’s memories being taken away, but doing it to Jo would have destroyed who she was completely. Digging his phone out of his pocket, Dean dialed her number.

She sounded surprised, yet happy, to hear from him. “You don’t usually call. Is something wrong?”

“It was the same thing Bobby and I saw. The people were --”

He heard Ellen’s voice in the background. “Is that Dean?”

“Yes,” Jo answered her.

Ellen’s voice raised. “Will you talk to her, Dean? Tell her it’s a bad idea?”

“Huh? Ellen? What’s a bad idea, Jo? What’s she talking about?”

“Ignore her. She’s overreacting. It’s not a bad idea.”

“I’m worried. There’s a difference,” came Ellen’s reply, though a lot softer than it had been. “After Castiel’s blow-up….”

“What’s going on?” He heard a door close.

“I’m house shopping.”

“You’re….” The matter-of-fact pronouncement actually seemed to short-circuit his brain for a few seconds and he struggled for a reply, finally settling on a simple, “Explain.” House shopping didn’t sound like she was playing it safe.

“Little wifey trying to set up house for her man. Duh. It’s the next step. He’ll be expecting something along those lines.”

Since she was speaking frankly, she must be in the bedroom. He only hoped Cas wasn’t here with him listening. “Jo. House hunting?”

“Oh relax. I’m not about to saddle us with a rent payment and no one in their right mind would actually give us a mortgage. My list of housing requirements is extensive, improbable to find each item in any house in the state, and guaranteed to frustrate every realtor I talk to.” Her voice was amused. “I’m not poking the bear, okay? I promise. I actually don’t mind being nosy and going through house after house.”

“Be careful,” he told her.

“Of course I will. You be careful yourself. That smoke mist stuff sounds bad.”

“It is. It’s scary, Jo. What that smoke does is like nothing I’ve ever seen. The skin on the host gets really white, like albino white only with this weird sheen to it, and the veins darken under the skin and harden. Changes remain after death. On a couple, the facial bones had shifted and the coroner said the body isn’t human anymore. These things are a lot like demons, but at the same time, they’re completely different. They look like a demon, possess like a demon --”

“But they change the body like werewolves and a few other creatures do.”

“Yeah.” He heard the shower stop and the curtain rattle on the pole. “Sam and I came face to face with some of that mist stuff earlier coming out of the coroner’s office. It was at the car like it was waiting for us.”

“You mean like it recognized you?”

“Sense I got from it.”

“That’s…creepy. You think it knows you two from Castiel?”

“Maybe.” He sipped from the glass. “It came at us, jumped us, and stopped at the last second. Sam and I were both wearing silver and the stuff couldn’t touch us. The silver even seemed to piss it off a little.”

“Silver does hurt or repel just about everything out there.”

“Make sure you’re wearing some, okay? Just in case?”

“Always do.”

They talked awhile longer and Dean knew Jo would be writing down everything he’d told her and hitting Bobby’s library again, hoping and praying to find something that matched what they were seeing.

Chapter 16

The program on the tv didn’t truly interest Jo, but she watched it anyway, like she’d watched the past three hours of that same show.

She was completely bored with her own plan of testing the boundaries Castiel had put on her, not bothering to go out the past two days. He hadn’t shown any interest in corralling her since that day he’d threatened to take her memories, nor had he even shown up, and she was hating the position he’d placed her in. Being the little woman safe at home had never appealed to her.

Why was he so dead-set against her hunting? Part of her thought he was afraid of what she might accomplish or perhaps what she might help Dean and Sam accomplish. Was he really afraid that she’d die? After all his talk of being able to bring her back, why was he afraid of her dying? That fear made it seem as if he didn’t think he could bring her back again.

But that couldn’t be the truth. Because if it was, it meant he had lost an ability even angels low on the totem pole had appeared to possess.

Jo pondered that a moment as a commercial came on.

While he still seemed to have a bunch of other powers, he was behaving stranger and stranger. Some of that could be chalked up to him trying to hide his lessening powers and status from them and the world. Some could be the powers themselves affecting him, changing him further. She was going to have to watch him all the closer when he did appear again, see if she could ascertain what was the truth.

Her attention returned to that plan she’d begun right after he’d raised her. She’d looked at so many properties now that she could no longer keep them straight in her head and had taken to writing down notes on the printed listings so she’d be able to tell everyone about each one when she got back. They all pretended interest and Bobby even asked the sort of questions he’d be asking if she was really trying to find them a house.

Was this what her life was going to be now?

Ellen came in the room and stopped at the end of the couch.

Sprawled in a prone position on the couch, Jo craned her neck to look up at her. “What?”

Putting her hands on her hips, she stared down at Jo with the sort of fierce frown she’d used when Jo was a teenager and had stayed in bed until two in the afternoon on a Saturday. She pursed her lips, then stepped forward and turned off the tv.

“Hey!” Jo raised her head off her pillow a few inches. “I was watching that!”

“You don’t need to sit on your ass --”

“I’m not sitting, I’m lying down.”

“ -- in your pajamas all day watching crap like Dr. Sexy, M.D. reruns.”

“I’m not in my pajamas,” she protested, but really, the yoga pants she did wear as pajama bottoms, as she did with the tank top.

Jo could tell that depression in her circumstances was beginning to set in. Stumbling on that job while on a ‘honeymoon’ with Dean had only whet her appetite for hunting again. She almost felt like she was back at the Roadhouse, except Ellen wasn’t the one holding her back. She was the one trying to give Jo tasks that would help with her depression. Unfortunately, the only cure was to be actually out there working, a thing she couldn’t do without the wrath of Castiel coming down upon her head.

She’d silently muttered quite a few angry epithets at him recently.

“Joanna Beth.”

“And it’s not Dr. Sexy.” She adjusted her blanket. “It’s one of the spin-offs. Mercy Clinic I think. Or something like that.”

“Get your ass off that couch.” Coming close, Ellen started poking at Jo’s socked feet with a finger.

“Why?” Jo moved her feet away from her mother’s prodding and sat up. “Not like I can hunt anything. According to Cas, this is my life now. Staying home, eating bonbons, and watching soaps like a good little obedient woman.”

“Now there’s a nice heaping dose of self-pity I hear,” Dean remarked, coming into the room from the stairs. He and Sam had rolled back in about an hour earlier only to say they couldn’t stay and were headed back out. Dean hadn’t even taken off his jacket and Sam had remained outside.

“It’s the truth.” She rolled her eyes.

“Will you stop the attitude and act your age?” Ellen crossed her arms. “You’re getting up because you’re going with them.”

She moved to put her feet on the coffee table. “Right. I’ll sit in the backseat and keep the motel light burning. Woo-hoo. Exciting.”

But that was Jo’s bag Dean had in hand. He wouldn’t have brought it down if it wasn’t true.

“Actually, you’ll help me keep an eye on Sam.” His expression spoke volumes. “I don’t want to leave him alone. He’s starting to show some side effects and we need to keep track of what they are and the severity. Doc gave us a list of ones that if Sam has them, we call him immediately. I need someone to be with him when I’m not and yes, that includes when we split up to hunt down leads and talk to people.”

Ellen perched on the couch arm. “Castiel did say you could go, Jo, as long as you’re there for matters besides hunting. He told me that months ago.”

“Does he still mean it?”

Dean set her bag on the couch and opened it. “Unless he’ll fix Sam he’ll have to because I’m not leaving Sam by himself for any reason.” He gestured at the contents. “Take a look. I just grabbed things you seem to wear a lot.”

The fact that he’d noticed what she wore didn’t pass by her. Of course, he also noticed when she didn’t wear anything. Jo rifled through the clothes, sorting them. He’d packed for whatever occasion might occur. “Looks fine.” He’d even remembered her toiletries. “I should let you pack for me all the time.”

“Good. Get dressed and if there’s anything else you want, go get it. Sam’s making sure we’re filled up on all counts, but when he’s done, we’re leaving.”

He turned to go and Jo grabbed his arm. “Dean, wait. If I’m out there with Sam --”

“It’s cleared. I talked to Castiel about it this morning, explained what I’ll need you there for and why. Don’t worry about it.”

“You saw him.” She released his arm.

His nod was slow. “Yeah, I did. He’s…weird. Out of it. Pretended like he was monitoring the world while he talked to me, but that wasn’t it. His focus was inward, not outward. I could tell. He used to look like that right after he lost his angel powers, like he had a million things he was trying to process and didn’t know how. He kept rubbing his stomach, too. I don’t think he realized he was doing it. Something’s up with him, something big. We’ll talk about it later.” He gestured towards the desk. “Bring your notes, too. Anything you’ve found on the gray stuff.”

Jo got dressed as fast as she could, not wanting them to be waiting around on her, grabbed a few things to keep herself occupied, and was ready within twenty minutes.

The job they had appeared to be a mermaid. Jo read through the file in the backseat, a pillow wedged between her and the door, and a container of salt and vinegar potato chips and bottle of water beside her. Every so often, she leaned forward so Sam and Dean could have some of the chips, too.

A couple hours into the trip, Sam half turned to face her. “Found anything on the purgatory demons?”

“Is that what we’re calling them?”

“Fits,” Dean said.

“True, but I was expecting something a little more creative from you two.”

Sam laughed. “Why not just go with what’s obvious on this one?”

“Be easier for other hunters to remember it.” Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. “Chips?”

She held it forward. “You take it. I’m done with them for now.” It took a minute to dig her notebook out of her bag. Jo flipped it open. “I’ve found a vague reference in supposedly Babylonian writings about a smoke that created monsters, but they could have been referring to some type of hellspawn. Bobby thinks the translation could be wrong.”

“It’s something.” Dean ate a chip. “Any mention of metal with that writing?”

“Nope. I also found a demon called a Cheitan. It’s made of smoke, but I wasn’t able to find an origin point for it or specific culture. Then there’s the Enenra. It’s Japanese, made of smoke, lives in bonfires, takes human form when it appears, and the pure of heart are supposed to be the only ones who can see it.”

“Pure, huh?” Amusement colored Dean’s voice. “Can’t be that one if Sam and I saw it.”

“Pure of heart is a lot different than pure of body, Dean.” Sam snagged the chips from Dean and closed the container.

“Have to agree with Sam on that one,” Jo said.

“Go on, Jo.” Sam was watching her with an interested expression. Probably glad he hadn’t had to do the work on this.

“That’s it. There’s surprisingly little out there on smoke monsters that physically change a person.” She handed him the notebook. “See for yourself.”

His brows rose as he glanced through the notes. “I see that.” He held up the notebook to a page of doodles she’d done while bored. “Nice art.”

“Thanks. I was thinking about the silver thing. Maybe a colloidal silver spray could do something against the mist? We can try it, see if it pisses it off as much as the jewelry did.”

“Beauty and brains and she’s all mine.” Dean glanced in the mirror at her, then reached out and smacked Sam in the arm. “Aren’t you jealous, Sammy?”

“Green with jealousy.” He smiled and turned back around. “Think I’ll take a nap. Wake me when we stop.”

Jo settled back with a magazine.

~~~~~~~~~~

The church was very warm.

Castiel sat, pretending to be listening while Constance told him about the arrangements that had been made. He relaxed back in the chair and breathed in the soothing scents of the flowers in the office. Out of all of his churches, this one was his favorite and not just because it was here in Sioux Falls. Constance always made sure there were fresh flowers in the vases and she’d done all she could to make the building reflect him. Her focus was on him completely and it showed.

He’d been having a terrible time rounding up the spirits and disposing of them. It was like they all knew now that he couldn’t take them back and he got the impression that they were somewhat organized, the ones that were out the longest mentoring the newest to leave him.

Strange and terrible. The last thing the world needed was another monster that was difficult to kill, yet he’d managed to create one.

From her place at his feet where she knelt, Constance raised a hand and lightly touched his knee. “My Lord?”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” She didn’t remove her hand from his knee, letting her touch become more firm when he didn’t remove her hand.

“I’m fine, Constance.”

Her smile was relieved. “I’m glad. You don’t seem yourself, not like in past weeks.”

“The world is wearying.”

The response appeared to satisfy her and she nodded. “I’ve a request.”

“Name it.” Her hand on his knee was warm and the contact was not unpleasant. He was almost disappointed when Constance slowly slid her hand away. She pressed it to her chest.

“A close, dear friend of mine would like to have a private audience with you after the ceremony is over. Margaret is quite devout and I believe she’d be an asset to your team here. I tried to tell her I have the authority hire her, but she insists on seeing you for approval. She says she wants your personal blessing in her ministry, that it won’t be effective without it.”

Maybe he should see the woman, give her the blessing she wanted. It’d encourage others and might make him feel better to see another ministry begin. “Is Margaret here tonight?”

“She is. She’s been at every service we’ve held here for weeks. I’ve invited her into my home and she’s been such a blessing to me. I barely go anywhere without her now. Frankly, Lord, she’s indispensable.”

“Then tell her I’ll meet with her here in this room after the ceremony tonight. After the television crew has gone.”

Constance’s smile widened to a grin. “She’ll be so happy!”

Her joy caused a warmth to rise inside him, spreading through his body. “You may tell her now if you wish, and return later to finalize the order tonight.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

When she had gone, he leaned his head back and sighed. Dean had called him earlier in the week. He’d called at a rather inconvenient time, as Cas was resting from another battle with the creatures, but he’d gone, glad to have Dean’s prayers again even if they were so short as to be rude.

He’d explained the situation with Sam and about the medication, how he needed Jo with them so there was someone watching Sam at all times. His argument for Jo to go had been laid out well and Castiel had agreed to allow Jo to go with them. She wouldn’t be hunting, but watching Sam in case of trouble. It was acceptable. Not ideal, yet acceptable.

He hoped that this was the beginning of Dean’s return to him. It could be a start at least.

By the time the ceremony was to begin, he was feeling completely rotten and having Constance at his side helped. She was thrilled to be invited to assist him on stage and each time he faltered a little, her words of encouragement gave him the energy to continue. He honestly couldn’t wait until this was all over and he could rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had all the luck.

At least that was Jo and Dean’s consensus. He was the one who’d discovered the mermaid was actually a shape shifter trying to cash in on a local legend. Of course, he’d been fending off her advances at the time…. If any of them were a magnet for weird, he thought he should get that title.

Pulling on a clean shirt, he stepped back into the motel room.

Under this medicine, his hallucinations hadn’t gone away. They’d simply shifted. He was no longer seeing Lucifer himself. Rather, he saw Jo, Dean, Bobby, and Ellen with that same clear, sharp likeness. They’d say things like how they couldn’t wait until he went around the bend completely and they’d be free of him, that he should give in to the madness and reintegrate that last bit of himself he was being stubborn on. It was a good bet to say it was Lucifer in his head messing with him like he always had. The other hallucinations, the ones he knew were memories playing out, had dimmed until they were barely noticeable. They resembled ghosts stuck in a loop, replaying moments over and over, part in this world and part out of it.

He was also beginning to have side effects. He felt tired, yet couldn’t sleep, insomnia keeping him up to all hours once more. His appetite had increased, which could have been okay if nausea didn’t keep him from eating much. They were going to have to try another medication because this one was bothering him. Dean had already given Doc Allen a call about it.

The smell of the popcorn Dean and Jo had made caused his stomach to turn a little as he passed them and he went to the table, opening up the laptop. He’d do a little research while the two watched tv, try to find something they could move on to.

He’d found something of a lead when his phone rang. “Ellen, hi.”

“Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Had a little setback. Pills aren’t working right.”

“You got through the job okay though?”

“I did. Jo was a big help. Kept me focused during interviews.” She had, too. She’d seen enough of his hallucinatory episodes to recognize when one could be coming on and had been able to touch his hand or something to ground him in reality long enough to finish the task they were on. She’d even had a few insights on the monster, especially after the shape shifter’s attention had moved to him. “Glad she came with us on this one.”

“Good. You call your doctor? He can prescribe you something new.”

He sat forward and smiled at the concern in her voice. “Ellen, are you afraid we won’t call him?”

She was silent for a few seconds. “You two do tend to go against advice at times. I’d like to see this followed through and you get the peace you need.”

“Dean handled it earlier. It’s all taken care of.”

“Then I promise I won’t worry about it again.”

“Yeah, you will. You’ll worry.”

Her laugh was low and throaty. “You caught me. Of course I’ll worry. Are you all watching the ceremony tonight?”

Sam glanced at the tv. “We’ve got it on now.” Castiel had begun baptizing people in his name three weeks earlier and the major networks were carrying the four hour twice a week ceremony. People were flying in from all over the world to be baptized at locations the church had announced.

Jo and Dean were lying on one bed passing the popcorn bag back and forth. Sam knew that when they were done with that one, they’d pop another and work through it until the ceremony was over. On the screen, Castiel had appeared on the stage and was waiting as people lined up. He was in Sioux Falls this week and Sam was sort of glad they weren’t there. Traffic would be horrible.

“I went to the store earlier to stock up on a few things,” she said, “and the sheriff had six cars pulled over. Heard it was a drug bust and a pretty good one. Can’t wait to see if Cas addresses it tonight.”

“You think he will?”

“He’s big on righting some wrongs of the world. He smote that one drug lord down in Mexico awhile back. There’s a good bet he’ll mention the bust earlier, maybe even bring the offenders from the jail and punish them on live tv.”

He’d forgotten about the drug lord. “You’re right. He did that with the drug lord. It was on the news for a couple weeks after.”

“Listen, sweetie, I have to go. Pizza just got here and Bobby’s got a couple cold ones for me.”

“Alright. Bye, Ellen.”

He would have thought Jo and Dean would get tired of watching the ceremony after an hour, but they kept watching. Dean brought out a beer for himself and one for Jo. Because of his medicine, Sam declined to drink. Better not to mix it with alcohol since it wasn’t working well to begin with. No telling what adding alcohol would do. With his luck, it’d cause seizures and he’d had enough of those.

Sam stretched his legs out and watched the tv. The line of people waiting went out the door and the sanctuary was filled with people watching. The baptism was by immersion in water, like the baptism for other religions, each person waiting wearing a white caftan. He didn’t know what any of it was meant to signify in the Church of Castiel, if anything.

In Sam’s opinion, Castiel looked sick, his skin pale and a little sallow beneath the lights. A close-up showed he was sweating, dots of perspiration on his brow. In between people, he’d rub one hand across his stomach and bow his head. A couple times, it almost seemed like he was going to make a dash offstage to throw up. He’d swallowed hard and gulped in a breath, swaying in place. Constance would step forward every time to steady him, her expression loving and adoring. She’d whisper something to him that the microphone never caught. Whatever she said, it seemed to give him strength.

“He looks bad,” Sam commented. “Like really bad. He didn’t sweat before.”

“He also didn’t used to show emotions like he did when I saw him last,” Jo said, changing position so she could put a pillow under her chest.

Dean’s attention slid to Jo while she adjusted her position and Sam suspected he was looking down her shirt. He did that a lot and when Jo noticed, she’d get this little pleased smirk on her lips. “Good. Let him know how it feels to be sick and hurting. Maybe he’ll come and heal you after this.” The satisfaction in Dean’s voice was unmistakable and, if Sam admitted it to himself, he felt a twinge of that himself regarding Castiel’s apparent illness.

But he didn’t want to watch it and revel in it. He didn’t want to sink to that level. Sam turned back to the table as the next person stepped into place.

A shot sounded and he looked back at the screen. Constance screamed. There was blood on Castiel’s shirt. His arm lashed forward in a blur, a cloud of gray pouring from his lips.

The popcorn bag fell to the floor, Jo getting onto her knees and Dean standing. Jo’s hand gripped Dean’s arm and Sam moved to stand level with them, watching and waiting for the outcome. He felt like he couldn’t draw in a breath, suspended in the moment.

Another man appeared, eluding security and moving behind Castiel. With a cold smile, he aimed and shot Castiel in the back. A surge of what looked like energy played across Castiel’s body. Surprise flickered across Castiel’s features and then he was falling to the stage beside the baptismal tank. Blood poured from him, soaking his shirt. He coughed, blood spitting from his lips.

Constance screamed again and threw herself across him, ripping off her sweater. “No!” The agony on her features was almost painful to witness and she tried to staunch the flow of blood with her sweater. One hand touched his face, the other held the sweater in place. “No, no, you can’t die! Stay with me! Castiel, don’t go!”

He drew in a shuddering breath and went limp, his eyes closing.

When the guards dragged Constance off Castiel, her dress was soaked with his blood, plastered to her body. She began to sob, her outpouring of emotion the only sound as the camera panned back. The audience was stunned, shocked by what they’d seen.

“Damn,” Sam breathed. “Did I just see Castiel die on stage or is this medication crapping out on me completely?”

His words seemed to snap Jo into activity and she began packing, throwing things into bags. “It happened. Help me pack.”

“It’s a publicity stunt, right? Something to give his church a boost?” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t a stunt. Castiel had been genuinely surprised when he’d been shot.

Jo paused in her task, slowly shaking her head. “I don’t think so, Sam. I think…. I think he really was just assassinated on live tv.”

But how? How did someone know how to kill him? They’d been trying to think of a way for months now and…. The Colt. Could it have been? Had someone found the Colt and used it? That play of energy along Castiel’s body. It could be the Colt.

The scene replayed in Sam’s mind and he knew that he couldn’t rest until he knew for sure if it was the Colt. He’d begin looking at the official videos first, then move on to the amateur ones taken by cell phones, cameras, and camcorders. Perhaps Castiel was one of the things the Colt could kill. He’d start investigating on the way back.

Dean was already on the phone to Ellen. “Get there,” he told her. “Find out everything. Use any channel you and Bobby have. We’re heading back now. We’re about nine hours out.”

It didn’t seem real.

He stared at the screen. It had gone blank and now moved into a commercial that was too cheerful to follow what had just played out.

Castiel had been assassinated.

Castiel was dead.

Chapter 17

It put a crimp in Meg’s plan that Castiel had gone and died on her before she could offer him her services as Crowley’s replacement and convince him to make her the ruler of hell. She’d planned to show him how faithful she was to him by being here in his church, a way of letting him know she’d support whatever endeavor he took on. She’d even planned to claim to have turned her adoration from Lucifer to him if he really wanted to know.

But no, the idiot had to get himself killed and by the Colt if she’d seen correctly from her place in the audience. Probably under Crowley’s orders.

Her hands clenched into fists as she looked down at the body of his vessel. What a waste. She’d looked forward to eventually corrupting him further.

Crowley needed to die and soon. He’d been messing up her plans for years.

An overly anguished sob distracted her from her thoughts and she suppressed an irritated sigh.

“I don’t know what to do!”

If Constance wailed that one more time, Meg was going to punch her. Instead, she plastered a kind expression on her face and reached out, pulling Constance into a hug. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this together, Connie.”

She’d spent weeks inserting herself into the woman’s life and becoming her newest best friend. Keeping out of the media had been a challenge considering what a media whore Constance was, but she’d done it. She hadn’t wanted to alert Castiel of her presence here too soon, nor had she made any move to antagonize the Winchesters or Jo and Ellen Harvelle. Meg had been a very good girl for weeks, so good that her status as a demon might as well be revoked. She’d been so good she was almost human again. She’d had her moment planned with Castiel and then…poof. It was all gone.

Son of a bitch, she thought.

“How can he be gone? He’d agreed to meet you. We were making plans for another baptism here in three weeks. I’d talked to him about expansion of the church again. We….” She drew in a choking breath. “We had a connection!”

She patted Constance’s back. “There, there.” Behind Constance’s back, she rolled her eyes. Connection her ass. Meg had more of a connection with Castiel than Constance did, the stupid cow. “He is with us. Remember that. As long as we carry him in our hearts, he’ll never leave us.” It was the same drivel Constance prattled on about at every service, but seemed to calm the woman.

“He’s a part of all of us. Praise him!” Constance clung to her. “Margaret, can I tell you something?” She drew back, glance falling to Castiel’s body.

“Of course you can. You know that, Connie. You can tell me anything.”

“I feel a little silly, but….” She stretched out a hand and touched Castiel’s cheek. “I wonder about those two women he saw. Who they were. What were they to him? They meant something, I know they did, but he didn’t want me searching for them and approaching them. He told me to drop it and forget about them.” Her hand moved down to where his shirt was parted, faltered, then touched his chest. She caressed the spot. The bullet wounds were gone and Meg wondered if that meant anything. “Why? Do you think they’re his family? Should I find them and give my condolences? I mean, as head of his church, I should do something, right? I just want to make sure they’re okay and have everything they need as we…they grieve for their loss.”

Meg about laughed. Who did she think she was fooling with this act? “Don’t feel silly for caring about others. It’s a selfless thing to worry more for others than yourself.”

“I know. I just can’t get them out of my mind. How lost they must feel without him.”

Jo and Ellen Harvelle were a source of great frustration to Constance. Castiel had forbidden her to look for them under the threat of losing her place in the church, a threat she took seriously since she liked her status. He’d refused to allow Constance anything to do with them. Meg had been tempted to tell her several times that Jo and Ellen were in Sioux Falls right under her nose, but she hadn’t due to her own agenda with Castiel. Most people had forgotten about Jo and Ellen and Meg was pretty sure Castiel had worked some god magic to make that happen, something similar to what some of the angels had done over the years.

“Let me see what I can find out for you,” Meg told her. “But right now, we need to go pick out some fresh clothes for him. Something nice.” What Constance would say if she knew her god wasn’t as wonderful as she thought he was; if she knew he’d worked with demons on a regular basis; that he’d torn open Purgatory to attain his level of power. Would she still want him then?

Constance lifted her hand from Castiel’s chest. “You’re right. Clean clothes and we should have his coat cleaned before he’s put in the case for viewing.” She stepped back and grasped Meg’s hand. “What would I have ever done without you, Margaret? You’ve been my lifeline.”

“I’m just trying to help. The servant’s life, you know.”

She took a last glance back at Castiel and the missed opportunities there, but maybe she could do something with the church he was leaving behind. It had terrific potential to be shaped however Meg wished if she played her cards right.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby Singer waited in his car for Sheriff Jody Mills to arrive. They’d agreed to meet nearly half an hour earlier and he was beginning to worry something else had happened. He glanced at his watch, then saw a car approaching.

He expected her to pull up beside him and open the window, but this time she didn’t. She drove past, turned around, and parked behind him, getting out and coming to his door. At her invitation to join her out if the vehicle, he did, closing the door as softly as possible and leaning against it.

Jody looked exhausted. There were dark shadows under her eyes and a drawn, pinched look around her mouth, like she’d had to deal with too many idiots in too short an amount of time. She leaned beside him. “What a night.”

“Worse than usual,” he agreed.

“I’ve got a whole town of fanatical nut bags wanting to lynch my two perps, who I’ve just gotten notice disappeared from lockup along with the two guns, and a kooky church who won’t let the morgue do their job with the body of their god.”

“Probably best they don’t do their job. Castiel ain’t exactly human.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

He studied the field across from them, then turned his attention up and down the road. There were no cars approaching, only the sounds of tree branches brushing together in the breeze. “I take it you’re not a member of the Church of Castiel?”

“Are you kidding? They’re a little too cult-y for my taste. I keep expecting them to lock themselves in that church and start drinking Kool-Aid.” She crossed her arms with a weary sigh. “They’re breaking laws right and left and I can’t do a thing about it. I’ve as much been told that unless I convert or give them preferential treatment, I’ll be out of a job soon. Isn’t that a nice reward for serving this city? I’ve done more here for the good of the people than my predecessor.”

He let her go on, getting her frustrations out until she fell silent with a sigh. “I hate to ask,” he began.

Jody laughed, the sound exhausted and a little punch drunk. “Go on. I know this Castiel thing is right up your alley.”

“He really dead?”

“As a doornail. I had to give a police escort to get the body across to the morgue. Connie Turco insisted. She went with the body like she was his wife or something and one of her friends tagged along. Connie said she had to make sure he was treated with the proper respect due to him. Then she said she wants a meeting with me this morning to discuss the police presence at the viewing of the body and a couple other side matters.” She snorted. “Man, I do not want to get out of bed in the mornings these days. My own people are converting and letting things slide.”

“A police presence might be a good idea.” All sorts of things could happen though if all the things Castiel had pissed off the past few months knew the body was here. There could be a ton of trouble headed their way already. “Then again, who knows what’s gonna come after his body. Could be best you just ignore that request.”

Jody shook her head. “I don’t need this. And I don’t need Connie or her ideas. Since she’s gotten involved in this church, she’s gotten weirder than she already was.”

“You’re sure he’s dead, though?”

“Paramedics said so, doctor said so, coroner said so. If that’s all you want to know, that’s an easy question to answer. I could have told you that over the phone.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

“Sure, Bobby. Take care of yourself,” she said, pushing to stand up straight. “This is a strange world these days.”

“Don’t have to tell me that.”

He waited until she’d driven off before getting in the car and heading for home. Maybe Dean, Sam, and Jo would be back and he could give them the news.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they arrived back at Bobby’s, Dean was shaking. It wasn’t only his hands, but his whole body. All the way back, he’d kept thinking that it couldn’t be real. Sam and Jo felt the same and their conversation hadn’t left the topic once.

He hurried into the house, leaving Jo and Sam to catch up. Ellen was there and Bobby wasn’t. “I need to know if this is real, Ellen. Is it real?”

She covered the mouthpiece of one phone with a hand. “We all need to know, sweetie. We’re working on it, but the church packed everything down tight pretty quick. I couldn’t even get in near the church at all. Barely got past the edge of town.”

Dean was afraid to get his hopes up. It hadn’t even been twelve hours and he still expected Castiel to appear there with them and say something like how he’d grown tired of the church and thought dying would disband it. Or that he was tired of being God and could they hide him for awhile until things cooled off? Something silly like that, only this wasn’t silly. Reports of his death were everywhere. “Where’s Bobby?”

“Went out to see if he could meet the sheriff.” She turned her attention back to the phone. “Yes, I’m still here.”

Jo and Sam came in, Sam immediately dropping his bag, setting up the laptop, and getting to work. Jo brought in their things and Dean belatedly realized he should have helped her. She waved away his concern about that.

“I can get this. You’ve got other things on your mind.”

She took their bags upstairs and Dean began to pace. His heartbeat wouldn’t slow down and he couldn’t stand still.

A car came down the drive and stopped. Bobby came in. He took in their worried expressions and said, “Sheriff confirms he’s dead. Paramedics, doctors, and the coroner all said so. Ain’t no doubt about it. No life left in that body.”

The pronouncement should have made him relax and didn’t. It wasn’t right. In his gut, he knew it wasn’t right.

During the first twenty-four hours after the assassination, Castiel had been declared dead to the world, his two assassins had disappeared, and his body had been cleaned up and placed in a special glass case for viewing. The world was invited to come to Sioux Falls and pay their respects.

Dean felt numb. This had to be a cruel trick being played on them because Castiel had had God-like powers. A bullet shouldn’t have killed him. He kept replaying that scene on the television over and over in his mind.

“It can’t be real.” Sam looked up from the laptop. “I keep thinking it has to be a hallucination I’m having.” He sorted some papers from the right of the laptop to the left, then made a notation on one of them.

“Why can’t it be real,” Ellen asked. She’d woken from a late nap, but seemed ready to fall back asleep any second. Like the rest of them, she’d been up all night and most of the day. Probably they should convince her to go to bed.

“Because we’ve been kicked in the teeth too many times. It’s too easy.” Sam shrugged, like it should have been obvious.

It was obvious to Dean, but then, he’d lived the same events Sam had for the most part. “He was God, gets shot a few times and he’s down? That make sense to you, Ellen? It doesn’t to me. Not to mention that if a gun could have killed him all this time, why didn’t we bother trying it?”

“Our luck’s gotta turn sometime,” she replied, smothering a yawn.

Sam laughed. “Um…Ellen? Have we met? I’m Sam,” he gestured to himself, then Dean, “and this is my brother Dean. We’re pretty much always waiting for the other crap covered shoe to drop.”

“You know it, bro.” Dean saluted him with his whiskey glass.

“He ain’t so much as twitched, boys.”

“We’ll see.”

They kept the TV on and attempted to play cards, but none of them paid much attention to the games. One by one, they went to bed until it was Dean left sitting alone in front of the television. He poured another drink and flipped channels. On one local channel, Constance Turco was talking about how there would be changes to the church after Castiel was entombed. She had far-reaching, global plans for ministry that she claimed Castiel had left with her before he’d died. Somehow, Dean didn’t think that was the truth. Constance had her own plans.

“You coming to bed?”

He looked up. Jo was in the doorway in her pajamas. “I was considering it.”

Coming forward, she turned off the TV. “It’ll all either still be real in the morning or it won’t be. You have to sleep, Dean.” She gestured at Sam. “Even Sam is sleeping.”

Sam had passed out with the laptop on the coffee table and a pile of papers and books on his lap and around him. His head was tipped back, his mouth open, and he was snoring every so softly. Getting up, Dean closed the laptop, gathered up the papers and books and set them aside before shaking him enough to get him to lie down. Gently, he placed a blanket over him. Sam sighed and snuggled down further, pressing his face into the pillow. Dean moved back to Jo. “Okay. Let’s go to bed.”

He didn’t sleep well and spent the next day in a state of constant tension. Even Jo couldn’t work the knots from his shoulders and back and she spent over an hour trying. Dean simply couldn’t relax. He was afraid to believe that Castiel was gone because if he was gone from a simple bullet, they could have gotten rid of him as a threat a long time ago. Much of what had happened could have been averted and, if that was the case, he began to feel the beginnings of guilt that they hadn’t even tried to shoot him.

Jo gave his shoulders a last squeeze and swung off of him. “Your back is a lost cause. Every time I get one knot, another shows up somewhere else. I’ll try again in a day or two.”

“Thanks.”

She handed him his shirt as he sat up. “Here. You really think he’s not dead?”

“I don’t know what to think, Jo. Part of me is so ready to just get past him and the other part…. I don’t know,” he repeated. “The other part can’t believe it could be true, that he’s gone, and we don’t have to look over our shoulders anymore.” He pulled the shirt on and added, “Any more than usual anyway.”

“It’s been two days.”

“I know.” He nodded. “Everyone says he’s dead. No pulse, no brain activity. Dead, dead, dead. Guess I’m having a hard time believing it.”

Dinner was stew Ellen had made to keep herself busy in between fielding calls from hunters around the world. Sam had taken a break from whatever project he was working on to slide frozen biscuits into the oven for her and Bobby stopped taking calls long enough to eat a bowl of stew. As soon as that bowl was done, he was back at the phones, telling people he didn’t know what the truth was, but yes, it looked like a bullet had killed Castiel.

For the most part, Jo had been quiet, not saying much at all about Castiel’s death since they’d returned to the house. She kept them moving forward, Dean could see that as he either sat in a chair or paced. She brought all of them coffee, water, or iced tea and made sure they never ran out. She got the laundry that had piled up from their trip done and put away, tidied the kitchen around Ellen and Bobby, and slid a new pad of paper beneath a distracted Sam’s pen before he’d started writing on Bobby’s desk. Every so often, she’d stop her whirlwind of activity long enough press a kiss to Dean’s cheek or forehead or squeeze his shoulder with one hand. Jo was the silent support they needed to get through the day.

He grasped her arm as she went by him. “Jo, wait a second.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this all day. The laundry, the picking up. You’re not a maid.”

“Who else is going to? Mom and Bobby are taking the phones, Sam’s working on the videos, and you’re trying to get your head around it all. What else is there for me to do but try to get us all through this to the other side? If that means I be a maid for awhile, it’s okay. The goal is to get though it all.”

She had a point and he let her go back to whatever her next task was. With a long sigh, he changed channels on television to the local station and waited for the latest broadcast. A little after ten, the program came on.

The music was dramatic, the anchor puffy eyed and pale. “A world in mourning.” Her voice was thick and husky from her own mourning. They showed several screens from all around the world of people crying. “For a large number of people in this world, the death of Castiel has either shaken their faith or made it stronger. We’ve had a number of stories since his death Tuesday night, just two nights ago, discussing both views. How could God die from a bullet?”

“That’s what I’m asking,” Dean murmured.

“Stay with us tomorrow as we delve deeper into the theological implications of his death. We’re also providing live coverage of the visitation for those who can’t be with us here in Sioux Falls. His body is on display for the next week, after which he’ll be buried in an undisclosed location at the expense of his church.” She turned a page in front of her. “One mourner said that he doesn’t look like a corpse at all. He looks…as if he’s simply asleep.”

Slowly, Dean leaned back. Two days down. He wondered if he would still be counting days a year from now, waiting for that shoe Sam had mentioned. Relief was trying to grab a foothold inside him, but he was still afraid to let it grow.

“Do you think they embalmed him,” Jo asked, resting her hands on her hips.

Bobby shook his head. “Doubt it. Sheriff said they wouldn’t let the morgue do their job. Stands to reason they wouldn’t let him be embalmed either.”

“Bet the inside of that glass case smells pretty ripe right about now.” She wrinkled her nose as if smelling that scent in the room.

Jo’s observation, said in a matter-of-fact tone, brought a snicker from Dean before he could stop it. He covered his mouth with a hand, smothering another burble of slightly hysterical sounding laughter.

She shrugged, ignoring his outburst of laughter. “Just sayin’. There’s a reason bodies get chemicals shot through them after death. They had to have done something to preserve him for the week though, right? Otherwise they’d be trying to say goodbye with this rotting corpse in a glass case.”

“Unless his body was completely changed and stayed that way. Like the victims of the purgatory demons.” Sam answered her without looking up from the laptop and Dean made a mental note to get up from the chair later and look at what he was researching.

Jo moved to perch on the arm of Dean’s chair. “I wonder whose idea it was to have the glass case. Doesn’t that just scream Sleeping Beauty and a whole slew of other fairy tales?”

Now that she’d mentioned it, it did.

“Constance probably has dreams of opening the case, kissing him, and bringing him back to life with the power of her kiss,” Bobby murmured. “She’s nutty that way.”

“If you’d heard her talk at that one service I went to….” Ellen stretched. “She’s definitely the type.” She got up, grabbed the bottle of whiskey Dean had been working his way through and poured them all a single shot at the kitchen table. “Get in here. All of you.” Once they were in the kitchen, she raised her shot. “To the angel he once was. Things changed, but he was an ally at one time. We should honor that even as we’re glad he’s not a threat anymore.”

Bobby nodded. “She’s right. He was a good ally before he got desperate and corrupted. Maybe one shot?”

Dean shook his head, pulled out a chair and sat. “I can’t.”

Slowly, Sam curled his fingers around his glass and raised it. “I will. He was an ally. He did help us with Lucifer. I’ll drink one shot to that. Anything after that is toasting the fact he’s gone.” He downed it, put the glass down, and got up, leaving the kitchen and returning to his work.

Jo tossed her shot back without saying a word. Putting an arm around Dean, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to bed,” she whispered.

Bobby and Ellen drank their shots at the same time leaving only Dean’s left and he shook his head again with stubborn refusal. When everyone had gone to bed, Dean stared at the shot. He sighed, the tendrils of relief slowly moving through him turning to sadness as first one hour, then two passed. Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands.

“Cas, you dumb son of a bitch,” he muttered.

He could have healed Sam and Dean would have eventually forgiven him, but he hadn’t. He’d insisted he couldn’t because he thought Sam betrayed him. He’d thrown tantrums and behaved like the child Dean had once called him. He’d insisted he wanted Dean happy, then given him Jo and Ellen. He’d continued to claim he couldn’t heal Sam and now he’d gotten himself killed.

Was he really dead? Murdered? It seemed strange to consider a world without Castiel at all and he really did expect him to appear in the room with them. Dean thought back over their relationship, going over past ground that he’d been ignoring these months.

Castiel had been an angel of God, a soldier who’d risked himself in a siege on hell to raise Dean from it. At the time, he’d been a scary thing to contemplate because of what angels as a whole meant. It meant there was more than Dean had thought and while he’d later learned things that negated a lot of that fear, he’d had some fear inside him.

Next, the angel had become horrified to learn what his brothers and sisters were doing and how unholy they were behaving. In a short period of time, Castiel had become an ally and then a friend. Hunters didn’t usually have too many friends and Castiel had counted among that number.

Dean sat back, hands dropping into his lap.

He couldn’t ignore what Castiel had once been. He’d been an ally and friend far longer than he’d been a enemy and they were right. He should honor that…but it was just so damn hard to get past the last few months.

“Why’d you take the easy way,” he whispered. “Demons are bad business and you dealt with Crowley? Crowley? Tainted souls, purgatory souls. Did you really have no idea it’d go sour? In all your angel life, didn’t you learn from watching us that power corrupts? You chose that path. Chose it. You chose to hurt Sam when you knew that was the one thing I couldn’t forgive and then you chose not to fix him after promising you would. You lied to me. You went back on a promise. You….” He leaned his head back. “I’m sorry, Castiel. I can’t forgive you. I hate the power hungry dick you became, but…. I guess they’re right. For awhile you were an ally and a friend. I guess…. I can drink to that after all.” He raised the shot and tossed it back before heading upstairs to join Jo.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo woke late to find Dean still in bed with her. He was on his back, looking at his phone and she rolled over, laying her head on his chest. “Morning.”

“It is a good one.” He waved the phone and set it aside. “His visitation. All over the news. Still hasn’t resurrected.”

It was going on three days now and Dean sounded better than he had the day before. There was the start of a twinkle in his eyes even, something Jo hadn’t seen in a very long time.

A slow grin stretched his lips. “We should take it easy today.”

“Stay in bed all day?”

“A chunk of it anyway. Don’t get to do that often.” The arm that had been under his head went around her. “I don’t think you can know just how much weight this takes off me, Jo. I mean, if he’s really gone. It wasn’t us did it so his church won’t come after us. We can forget about him. It’s like we can start fresh. The slate is clean.”

She ran her hand across his bare chest and smiled. She could only imagine how Dean and Sam felt, especially Sam. His tormentor was gone. Castiel wouldn’t set his recovery back anymore.

“We can concentrate on getting Sam help without Cas making things worse. We can track Meg, wherever the hell she is, and kill her. You and Ellen can go back out together. I know you’re probably excited for that. We can….” He swallowed so hard she heard it. “We can even try to make this work. You and me. If you want to.”

Jo raised up on her elbow, touched his face, and nodded. “I do. I’d like that.” She’d grown very attached to Dean Winchester over the past few months and wanted to keep him in her life. “And I’m definitely excited to go back out. We have a few plans to make first, but I’m ready.”

“He did do a good thing in bringing you and Ellen back. I will say that. He did a very good thing.” His hand slid over her back, fingers slipping beneath her pajama top.

“He’s done other good things, Dean.”

“Name them.”

She sat up, thinking about what she’d seen and heard since returning. “Look at all the sick he’s healed. As much as I dislike Constance Turco, she was dying and he healed her from that. He gave her more time on earth. He’s given a lot of people time they didn’t have, not just me and mom. He’s given orphans to families who desperately wanted children, found people willing to care for the elderly who didn’t have caretakers.”

“Mmm. Am I starting to hear a little ‘no speaking ill of the dead’ here?”

“No, I just think we’ve been so focused on how he’s affected us personally, that we forget there’s more than us out there. His methods were sometimes off, but he did a lot of good for people.”

“And he did a lot of bad.”

“Not disputing that.”

He sighed and sat up. One knee raised, arm resting on it. “I drank that shot last night before coming up here, but I won’t praise anything he did after he hurt Sam. He’s dead, Jo, and I’m done with him.”

She touched his face, rubbed her fingers across his jaw. “So today is a brand new day?” She slid her thumb along his lower lip.

“I’m declaring it one.”

“Then let’s start over. No orders from him, just you and me deciding what we want together. After all, we’re consenting adults.” She let her hand lower, trailing it down his chest. “Very consenting adults.”

His free hand slid through her hair. “Right now?” Dean leaned forward. “I want you.”

Jo went willingly into his embrace.

They went downstairs later rather than sooner.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a brand new day.

Dean really felt that way, getting out of bed the third day with a lightness inside him that he hadn’t felt in years. His spirits were high and even the threat of those purgatory demons didn’t bother him like they had. This was a day for rejoicing. He’d decided that sometimes in the night, though his gut still clenched with the wrongness of Castiel in that glass case.

He found he had a ton of plans he wanted to make, for himself and Sam, for himself and Jo, and for all of them really. It was time to seize the day. With Castiel gone and no longer the big threat over their heads, he thought he could try to be the man he’d once been, the one who’d enjoyed both his work and saving lives. He’d let Jo’s love of it buoy him up into that state once more.

What was there to accomplish?

Hunting down Meg. He’d do that for Jo. He planned to kill the bitch and get rid of her for good. She was like a cockroach that never seemed to die. Where had she gone?

Killing Crowley. Always a good goal. Crowley had been a pain in the ass far too long as well.

Figure out how to get Sam well again. They were working through that already and it’d take time.

Go after the purgatory demons. A little trickier as a goal, but he thought it was doable. Jo’s idea of colloidal silver was a good starting point.

And then? Then there was the world in front of them. He’d accepted Jo as a part of his life and while it hadn’t worked with Lisa, he wondered if perhaps there wasn’t some way to make it work with Jo. It had been working the past few weeks, since they’d gotten personal in a very delightful way.

The atmosphere all day and into the night was pure giddiness, as festive as a New Year celebration despite the televised visitation for Castiel on low. Jo was dancing to the music playing softly in the kitchen while she heated up pizza and got out plates, her hips swaying. Ellen was making a pitcher of margaritas to replace the pitcher she’d already gone through and Bobby was sprawled in his chair, happier than Dean had seen him in a long time. The only one of them not currently in party mode was Sam and Dean moved towards him. If Dean could finally relax and celebrate, then Sam could.

“Come on, Sam. Relax. Celebrate.” Dean set a beer beside Sam and clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Join the party.”

“In a minute. I want to finish this.” He gestured at the computer.

Since Castiel’s death had been confirmed, Sam had been hunting down videos of the assassination from every angle. He was studying it, trying to figure out if the assassins were human or not. Since they’d disappeared from lockup, it was a good bet they weren’t human. He’d explained the project briefly earlier.

“You can work on it tomorrow.”

“No, I’ve almost got it. I think I know what happened.” He brought up two screens side by side. “Watch.” He clicked play on the first and when it had finished, he played the second one.

“What am I looking at, Sam?” It was video of the shooting, the first half anyway.

“The first guy. He comes forward, waits until he’s close, then pulls the gun and fires.”

“Yeah?” They’d all seen it.

“What did Cas do? He reached out his hand and gray stuff comes out of his mouth, right?”

“You really need to come have some pizza and party. I think Jo’s got the pizza about ready.”

“I will. Just look, okay? Right when he would have touched the guy’s forehead,” he pointed at the screen, “the guy tips his head back and from the right angle, you can see a demon fleeing from him. Here, watch again. Look at the top left of the screen. It’s a tiny sliver, but it’s there.”

When the videos replayed, Dean noticed it only because Sam had told him about it. The evidence of the demon was nearly obscured by the gray cloud. “So a demon was involved. All that means is they’re not too thrilled with him either.”

“Now look at the guy behind him.” He pulled up another video. “His eyes go black for a second right before he shoots. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it. It was a demon and look.” He tapped the screen with one finger. “He had the Colt.”

From the close-up, it looked possible. It could be the Colt and Dean made a mental note to have Bobby call the Sheriff and ask about the guns in more detail. He should have suggested that before, but he’d been a little distracted with his own thoughts for three days. “Good work. That’s awesome work, Sam. Not sure why you’re so driven about this, but you figured it out.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, it’s almost ten. Come and relax already.”

“Wait. Something else.”

“Oh, geez, Sam.”

“This is important, too. You need to see this.” He pulled up a last video, another one from the baptismal ceremony, let it play a few seconds, and paused it on one image.

Dean sucked in a breath. “Meg.” So, she had stayed close. Actually, he wasn’t surprised to see her there. Not after the way he’d seen her looking at Castiel in the past.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. “Jo ran into her awhile back, but then Meg seemed to disappear again.”

“Jo ran into her,” Sam repeated.

“At the pharmacy. She was with that Turco nut. Meg promised she’d be seeing Jo again soon and never followed up on that little threat.”

Sam sat back in his chair. “Neither of you thought to tell us? We could have been looking out for more signs of her. We could have been hunting her. Dean, we had a lead on Meg and you two let it go? You know how bad Meg is. Constance was a lead. She might have told us right where Meg was.”

Maybe it had been a bad judgment call, though he doubted that Constance would have told them anything. “We know she’s still here now and she never followed up.”

“It’s comforting that she’s still here and never followed up. Really, it is, because who knows what she’s been up to since Jo saw her, told you, and you didn’t tell any of us. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Are you going to be pissy about this?”

“Yes, I’m going to be pissy.”

“Can you come and celebrate and be pissy when we’re done? It’ll take like an hour and then we can sit and chat about how I dropped the ball on this.”

“Did you ever.”

“Sam.”

Sam reached for the beer, though Dean knew he wouldn’t drink more than a couple swallows because of his pills. “Fine.” He closed the laptop and stood. “But we’re totally discussing this in an hour.”

From the TV came the sound of glass breaking, even exploding, and screams followed by a loud chorus of ‘Praise be to Castiel’.

Dean turned. All the blood seemed to be draining from his body, leaving him cold and a little lightheaded.

Jo dropped the pizza she was carefully carrying into the room. Cheese, toppings, and sauce slid all across the carpet with a splat.

Ellen knocked over the pitcher she’d just set down, alcohol spilling across the table and onto the carpet as well.

Bobby stopped talking in mid-sentence, his mouth opening.

Sam sat back into the chair.

“No. No! Damn it! No!” Dean stared at the screen.

His gut had been horribly right all along.

After three days, Castiel had risen from the dead.

Chapter 18

Castiel knew he was sick the second he woke. He could feel the sickness working through him, feel the Purgatory spirits churning. They weren’t trying to climb out his throat yet, but he knew it would happen. It was only a matter of time.

He blinked from the bright lights, vision blurring. His mouth was dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed, lips parting. “Water,” he whispered, craving a large glass of it, as if his body was desiccated. Interesting, that need, since he hadn’t needed to drink any liquids before. Not as an angel, not as God.

After another couple of blinks, he could see. He was in a glass case, surrounded on three sides by glass, lying on a padded cushion. A pillow was beneath his head.

Where am I, he thought, trying to remember what had happened. He recalled getting ready for the baptismal ceremony, feeling horrible, and Constance at his side. The room had gotten hotter and…. He frowned. The demon in front of him. He’d been shot, first in the stomach and chest and then in the back. Castiel remembered the sensation of paralyzing energy working through him, pain inside him, and then nothing as darkness pulled him under.

The case was a glass coffin.

They think I’m dead, he thought. Did Dean think he was dead as well? How long had he been unconscious?

Pushing out his hands, he shattered the case and sat up, noting vaguely that the large room he was in was filled with people, many in a line to come up to the case he was in. The sanctuary, he realized. They had him on display in the church. Had they even had time to clean up the blood or was it covered over by a rug or something? Yes, he did see a rug laid out. Perhaps only a day or two had gone by.

The people began to fall to their knees, a chorus of praise rising up, only…their praise didn’t excite him as it once had, or give him the thrill of a fresh zing of energy moving through him. It was merely a low buzz on his skin.

Why should it excite him? He was no longer the God they thought and knew it. He wasn’t the highest of all, not anymore. A bullet had laid him low. While it hadn’t killed him, it had put him in a vulnerable position. Castiel knew that. He felt physically and mentally weak, his body trembling slightly and mind whirling a little. Fear clung to him and he didn’t quite understand the illness he felt inside him. He didn’t think it was caused by the bullets and his body trying to heal itself, because he’d been feeling terrible before he’d been shot. He thought that perhaps being shot may have sped up what he’d already been feeling.

That idea frightened him worse than anything else because he had no idea what had been happening to him then. What was happening to him? Was he being transformed in some new way or was his body simply failing? It could be either. He knew he’d been feverish and knew as well that a fever usually indicated some sort of infection the body was fighting off. He’d have to wait and see.

Had it been the Colt the shooter behind him had held? Maybe. The sensation he’d had of energy throughout his body bore that out and if he’d been further weakened from his God-like state, it might have worked. He might have died for real. The assassination attempt had probably been Crowley’s idea, since Dean had lost the Colt in Carthage and Crowley would have known they were headed there for that mission. He wouldn’t put it past Crowley to have gone in and picked up the Colt when it was safe.

Perhaps it was time to deal with Crowley and appoint a new head of hell.

Swinging his legs over the side of the case, he stood, looking down at himself. His pants, shirt, and tie were new and very close to what he’d been wearing, the coat fresh from being cleaned. The chemical smell was still there, clinging to the fabric. The pants and shirt still had the stiffness associated with brand new clothing.

Castiel took a closer look at the people in the room. There weren’t only people present. He saw one terrified pagan goddess trying to make herself seem small and insignificant to his right. She hurried to kneel when he looked at her. Three vampires stood at the back of the room near one werewolf and five shape shifters. To his left were three ghouls and more monsters that wore human faces mingled in the crowd.

They’d come to see his body and, he suspected, spit on the case.

Also present were a few Reapers, who now disappeared. Death would be wanting a report from them.

The people in the room sank to their knees and one by one pressed themselves to the floor, continuing their chorus of praise and adoration. Slowly, the monsters did as well. He saw Constance in the front row, the only one now without her face to the floor. She was crying, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Had she been the one to put him on display? He didn’t particularly care for that human custom. In death, he would have preferred his remains be given to Dean to take care of -- if his actual death left earthly remains.

Constance stretched out a hand towards him.

The lights in the ceiling began to burst out in showers of sparks, the electronics in the large room all giving off either loud hums or grating static.

Castiel knew exactly what was happening.

The angels were coming to view him as well and if they came into the building, most of these people would die.

He went down the aisle, ignoring the people raising their heads to watch him and the cameras still recording. The areas around the doors were jammed with people, but they moved aside for him and he pushed outside into the parking lot.

Angels appeared on the ground one by one and several in their natural state circled up in the sky looking down.

“How can this be,” one of them said in disbelief.

“He promised it’d work,” another whispered, fear in her voice. “Why isn’t he still dead?”

“He’s supposed to be gone,” a third angel hissed to a fourth.

“Let me guess,” he said, trying to show nonchalance instead of the queasy apprehension that filled him. “You went to the King of Hell for help and he gave you assistance. You planned an assassination with him. You conspired against me after I made it very clear that no rebellion would be tolerated.” From the look on their faces, that was exactly what they’d done. Crowley had dangled the possibility of his dead, rotting corpse in their faces and they’d fallen for it.

Ahh, Crowley, he thought. Once a demon, always a demon, playing every side he could. He must have laughed when he’d realized he could play the angels. What had they traded to Crowley for the assassination attempt? He always wanted something. Castiel decided that he admired them a little for attempting to rebel against him since he’d been quite harsh with Raphael’s followers. He was mildly impressed that some of them had gotten up the nerve to lash out at him in some way.

“You asked and he made a deal with you for…protection, perhaps? Some of you are currently guarding his back.” More startled stares from them. He really did know how his former family thought. He shook his head. “What has this world come to when angels guard demons?” Raising his hands, he beckoned, inviting them to come to him. “I’m still a little weak from waking up, but we can fight if you like.” He wondered if the fight would weaken him further, but at the moment, he didn’t particularly care.

Several took his invitation and Castiel learned fast that he was still able to burn angels just like he had those who’d been Raphael’s supporters. Fourteen died before the rest fled and he was left in the parking lot with the bodies of vessels and wings singed into the pavement. A few of the vehicles in the lot were destroyed and one was beginning to smoke.

“This was your choice,” he whispered to the bodies. “You didn’t have to fight me.” Turning, he saw one camera crew broadcasting out the door and he stepped towards them. “All who do disobey shall be punished,” he said in a clear, loud voice. “Even the angels.”

He left them with that to think about, went to Bobby Singer’s property, and vomited what felt like every Purgatory spirit left inside him. It wasn’t all of them, because he did still feel them there inside. Castiel fell to his knees behind a tower of junked vehicles. He felt feverish and touched a hand to his forehead. The skin was hot. Definitely a fever.

With trembling hands, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked at his chest. There were no wounds and no scars, no sign that he’d been shot at all. His body had healed like it had been. Had the bullet wounds healed immediately and the inside had taken longer? It made sense to him that the outward would heal first and the inward would take a longer period of time. Sometimes, it had been like that as an angel. The inner part of a wound had taken a few seconds longer than the outer.

What did he do now? The church would expect him to come back, but how could he when he wasn’t what they thought he was? How could he go back to healing the sick and so forth? He had Purgatory souls to burn into nothingness, the ones who’d just slipped away from him, and suspected there were going to be plenty more forthcoming. He couldn’t hold them in. He also had Crowley to deal with.

Going to Dean would do nothing. With Castiel’s inability to fix Sam, Dean would be unwilling to assist him in any way. He’d threatened Jo, Sam wouldn’t be receptive since he was the one whose wall Castiel had torn down in the first place, and as for Bobby and Ellen…. He’d threatened Ellen’s daughter and Bobby supported all of them. He’d find no help there. There was no one to go to talk to or to take care of him in his illness, and since he’d tried to replace God, he doubted that one would listen either.

Castiel wept and with each breath he gulped in and blew out sobbing, the wind rose up and whipped across the land. With his tears, rain began to fall and when a burst of anger that he couldn’t stop crying moved through him, a tornado siren went off somewhere. Gray puffs of mist leaked from between his lips as his emotions grew worse and he struggled to stop.

He had to keep calm. Keeping calm was the only way.

Slowly, Castiel got his body back under control.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first order of business was to discover who had been behind the assassination attempt. Dean wanted to know that and then he’d move forward to everything else.

“Who tried to assassinate him,” he asked, motioning for Sam to play the videos. Sam hesitated and he snapped his fingers several times. “Come on, Sam. Play them for me.” After they were finished, he shook his head. “Crowley’s the only name comes to mind, the only demon running around both in and out of hell who has the balls to try it. Had to be Crowley, but how did he get the Colt? I dropped it and wasn’t able to grab it back in Carthage before Cas winked us away.”

Ellen dropped towels onto the carpet and began sopping up that entire pitcher of margaritas she’d spilled.

“He’s resourceful,” Bobby reminded him, handing Jo a bottle of cleanser and a brush. “If he thought it’d work, he’d find a way. Likely he scurried into Carthage after Lucifer and Death were gone and retrieved it.” He got down on his knees and grabbed a section of pizza, dumping it in the trash can Sam slid towards him. The pizza had fallen face down, toppings littering the floor, and cheese sticking.

“I didn’t think it’d work.” Dean reached for the roll of paper towels and tore off several pieces. He bent, wiping up pizza sauce. The rug was going to need an actual cleaning to get clean. “He had god-like powers, more than Lucifer. How --”

“Has, not had. The Colt didn’t kill him, Dean.” Bobby glanced at him and in that glance was worry, but he didn’t think it was worry over the situation with Castiel. It hit him that Bobby was afraid this would send Dean spiraling back down into the depression he’d been starting to come out of. “He’s up and walking again. It didn’t work, it only slowed him down.”

“But it did slow him down,” he pointed out. “He’s not all everything, remember? We established that before. It slowed him down enough that we humans couldn’t tell he was alive. That’s nearly dead, Bobby. It’s something.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Crowley that did it.” Jo called out. “Maybe it was Meg. She was there at the ceremony and she probably still has some sort of supporters. Maybe it was her.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “If you’d seen how she looks at Castiel? No. Meg’s got it bad for him, like high school girl writing his name on her notebook with a heart around it bad. My money is on Crowley.”

“Dean’s right,” Sam said, moving to help Ellen. “Meg wouldn’t kill Castiel herself, at least not until she’d gotten whatever she wanted from him.”

“Besides, she was a Lucifer supporter. In the current regime that’s a no-no. She lost a good chunk of support and has been kind of on the run for awhile.” Dean’s mind went in circles, going back over what Sam had played and how it connected. If the Colt could almost kill Castiel, and Dean thought it was the Colt, then he was vulnerable. Something out there would finish him off. There was some kind of hope.

Ellen sat back, butt to her heels. “Three days. He was down three days and rose again. That remind anyone of anything?”

“It’s a parallel to the story of Jesus,” Dean said.

“Catholic church will probably play it up as Castiel is the antichrist, though. Use it as evidence. That and the sway he has over people.” Sam picked up the soaked towels, took them to the washer and returned with two more towels. “Here, Ellen. Last two down here. Want me to go upstairs and get more?”

“No, I think this’ll do it. Thanks.”

“And his church will fight back about their unbelief, leading us right into a war over whether or not he’s the Messiah, which he isn’t.” Bobby held out a hand, stopping Jo from working more on one section. “I’ve got a steam cleaner here somewhere. We’ll do that later and see if it improves it. It needed a good cleaning anyway.”

The pizza had made a mess, the sauce staining several inches and the smell of margaritas permeated the room.

“You could always put it in the panic room after it dries,” Jo suggested. “Give a nice homey feel down there?”

“There’s an idea.”

Dean took Sam’s chair at the desk and began making plan, scribbling his ideas on the notepad there. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Sam and I will contact Crowley, get the scoop on whether or not he planned the assassination and see what he knows about the Purgatory demons. Bobby,” he pointed at him with the pen, then returned to writing, “you talk to Sheriff Mills, find out if there’s anything else she can tell us, anything weird going on not associated with Castiel. We need to know if there’s anything sitting around in town getting cozy and,” he held up a hand as Sam started to speak, “yes, Sam, that includes Meg. She was last seen at the baptismal ceremony, but Jo said she was buddying up to Constance awhile back. It’s a lead. You know Constance, right Bobby?”

“Know her and despise her. Don’t really want to have a lunch date with her.”

“Do it anyway. Pretend you’re interested in converting and want to hear a personal testimony from someone you know who was healed by him and was there at both his death and resurrection before you make a commitment. If she knows where Meg is, we can gank Meg and be done with her, knock that off our to-do list.” He looked at Ellen. “See if you can’t get Cas to come to you, find out what happened from his own lips. Do your best to get him to open up. Assess his mood, his health and anything else that comes to mind. Figure out where you think he might be on the power scale now.”

“He might not come to me.”

“I think he will. You’ve contacted him a couple times since he pulled you down and he showed up both times. He’ll come, even if it’s just out of curiosity.”

“What about me,” Jo asked.

“Start searching for sightings of the new demons. He let a bunch of that gray stuff loose, lets see if it does correlate with new sightings. It’s been three days. If they’re out there, they should already be attacking people or starting to. Also, start a phone tree to every hunter in our address books. Make sure they’re all aware of the possible connection between silver and safety against the PD’s and ask them to start phoning in or texting us the locations of the sightings they find or work so we can map them and maybe find a pattern of attacks. I know you contacted a lot of people already, but no harm in double checking that they paid attention.” He set the pen down. “And have them let us know if they find anything that works on the PD’s either in mist or body. We’ll need to work as a big, world-wide team to bring them down if they’re the souls inside Cas since he ingested billions.”

“PD’s,” Ellen repeated, with a tiny smirk.

“Purgatory demons.” He found four pairs of eyes staring at him with various degrees of relief and amusement. “What?”

“Nice to see you back in form, son,” Bobby commented, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “I’ll give the Sheriff another call. I’ll bet she’s still in her office or maybe out at the church taking statements or something.”

“I love it when you take charge like this,” Sam told him. “It’s so exciting.”

Jo fanned herself with one hand. “Tell me about it.”

Ellen slowly got up from the floor. “I’ll take a drive after breakfast in the morning, find a good spot, and see if he’ll come to chat. I’ll need sleep to assess him like that though, so I’m going up to bed. ‘Night gang.”

“Whenever you think is best, but be insistent when you do call for him. Get his attention.”

“You want me to wake people up?” Jo went to the kitchen table and pulled out an address book.

With a glance at his watch, Dean decided maybe it was a little late at night to call some people. “Call the ones you know will still be up and running, save the rest for tomorrow.”

He began to gather what they’d need to call for Crowley.

~~~~~~~~~~

“All who disobey shall be punished, even the angels.” Lucifer laughed rather gaily at that solemn promise Castiel made at the camera and Sam realized that, in the excitement of the past three days, he must have forgotten to take his pills. “He does amuse me sometimes.”

The mood of the house had quickly turned sour and Sam set the beer back down on the desk before he tipped it onto the floor by accident.

“Three days. Very Savior and so dramatic. He should have his own television program.” Lucifer snapped his fingers. “Wait. Technically, he does with the media fawning all over him.” He sauntered towards the television, stepping around the mess of the pizza and stretching out a hand to touch the screen. “They’ll really be worshipping him now, but did you see his face when he woke up? And when he went out to meet the angels?”

Sam didn’t say anything.

“Something is wrong and he knows it. Are you paying attention, Sam? Something is wrong. Figure it out. Use it. Push him. Destroy him.” His smile was a bit chilling. “You know you want to.”

Dean snapped his fingers several times and Sam realized he wanted him to replay the videos he’d been working on.

“These things don’t mean anything. Crowley and Meg aren’t important. You can see for yourself that something is wrong with him.” Lucifer returned to Sam and wedged his way between Sam and the computer. It didn’t matter however, as Dean took over, leaning over to work the wireless mouse himself. “Who cares who shot J.R.? It’s old news. Dean’s focusing on the wrong thing here. Why am I not surprised?” His sigh was dramatic. “Of course Crowley snuck back and grabbed the Colt. Did you really think he wouldn’t? A weapon like that that can kill practically anything? It’s worth more than gold to some of you.”

In an effort to ignore Lucifer, Sam watched the cleanup in progress and moved a trash can over for Bobby and Jo. Lucifer continued to chat and comment.

“Actually, he would’ve been stupid not to try assassinating Castiel with it. Crowley does have some smarts. Definitely worth a try, except Castiel didn’t exist in this state when the Colt was made, so there were no adjustments in the process for killing him. It was still a nice try.”

Getting up, Sam went to help Ellen.

Lucifer followed, crouching down and leaning on Ellen’s back. “Meg always did like a pretty face,” he commented as speculation briefly turned to Meg as a candidate for planning the assassination. “She was quite loyal to the cause as well. How eagerly she went about her orders! If only all of them had been so eager.” Sighing, he changed position so he was sitting on the coffee table. “I agree, however. She was too smitten with him to kill him unless he didn’t perform the way she wanted him to or as well. Has a little bit of Lorena Bobbitt in her, if you get my meaning, Sam. Always did, even as a human.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll have to remedy my fall from favor eventually, don’t you think? Demons are so fickle. Always have to have something shiny and new.”

Sam took the towels to the washer.

“Hmm. The Catholic church. They’ll definitely use it. Good observations, Sam. This whole situation is tailor made for that and an apocalypse-Armageddon panic.” He waved his hands in the air, then shook one finger at Sam as Sam picked up the clean towels sitting on the dryer. “I can’t fault Castiel’s sense of theater, though. The entire three day thing was well planned and if he didn’t plan it, it’s still damn good showmanship.”

He took the towels to Ellen and waited.

Lucifer slung an arm around his shoulders. “Surely you have something to say to me, Sammy boy.” He laid his head on Sam’s shoulder. “I sort of liked that drug you were taking. Made me feel drunk. You should take some of that again.” He patted Sam’s cheek with one hand. “It’s good stuff.”

He strode to where he’d put his bag, crouched down, and removed his pills. Dry swallowing one, he waited for it to take effect and for Lucifer to shut up and disappear.

“You know, you have a much simpler way of making me go away, if you really don’t love me.” Lucifer released him and stepped in front of him. With a finger, he gently tapped Sam’s forehead. “You could absorb me back into yourself like you did the other pieces. That’s all I am and you know it. I’m just a piece of you wandering around that you refuse to take back into yourself out of some silly fear that you’ll die in the attempt. You hardly died when you took care of the last ones. You pulled it all together, except you missed me. Understandable since your soulless self was trying to off your souled self himself. You’re the one hurting yourself here, Sam.” He spread his arms. “But take the pills instead if you like. I’m happy to stay here with you and as long as you don’t add me back I’ll never leave you. I promise. Wouldn’t want you to be lonely.” He began to fade from view and as he disappeared entirely, Sam heaved a sigh of relief and went to help Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~

Getting Crowley in place had taken longer than Dean had anticipated, but once he was there, Dean didn’t waste any more pleasantries. “You behind the assassination attempt?”

Crowley stared at him. He had one hand in his pants pocket and the other was holding a glass. He took a sip of the liquid in the glass and shrugged in an unconcerned manner. “Of course I tried to assassinate the self-important shit. Do you have any idea the sort of restrictions he’s put on me?” He swirled the liquid. “Besides, I’m a demon. Treachery is in the job description. He knew that when he got in bed with me.” His rows rose. “Figuratively, you know. He doesn’t swing either way. Pity.”

“Restrictions,” Dean asked, crossing his arms.

The demon held his ground. “He does things like sift through the souls that are supposed to come to me and so on. I’m obliged to run hell the way he wants or I’ll be replaced with someone more cooperative.”

“Someone like Meg, maybe?”

The suggestion brought the slightest of snarls to his face. “That bitch doesn’t know how to handle Castiel, I assure you.”

“And you do?”

“I have so far.” He spread his arms. “I’m still here.”

“So is she,” Sam pointed out.

“In hiding.”

“Yet still breathing,” Dean reminded him. “I think he may even like her a little. They had some tongue action going on a few months back.” Which had been thoroughly gross at the time and was no less gross now considering Castiel should have been able to see her true face. Dean remembered just how repulsive demons actually were to view. “Maybe he does swing one way after all.”

“She’s breathing for now. I plan to take care of that as soon as I can beat her from the bushes. She’s very good at hiding.” He glanced back and forth between them. “Is that all you wanted? Do we have other business boys? If not…” One hand waved at the lines of the trap. “I have work.”

Though Crowley was trying to play it cool, he looked slightly nervous, glancing about the basement every few seconds like he expected someone to show up. Castiel maybe?

“Not so fast. There’s another matter.”

“Oh, the anticipation. Spit it out already.”

“What do you know about the gray mist?”

“You mean the Purgatory creatures. Delightful, aren’t they? A cross between a ghost and demon and gives both a bad name. How are you enjoying them?”

“They’re peachy. What do you know about them?”

“Why should I share that information?”

“Because,” Sam cleared his throat, “if Castiel holds true to form, he could be along any minute to look things over. He likes to come here and stand just out of sight watching. Probably wouldn’t be good for you for him to find you here conspiring with us.” The smirk on Sam’s lips reminded Dean of the one he’d used when his soul had been gone.

“We’re not conspiring and you’ll be just as caught.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean told him. “I’m still here aren’t I? Besides, he’s a little short on common sense these days. Jumps to a lot of conclusions and there’s a slight, microscopic --”

“Tiny,” Sam broke in.

“--chance that we’ll make him believe you came here, caused some trouble thinking he was dead and couldn’t interfere, got yourself caught, and tried to weasel your way out of death by making an alliance of some sort with us. Maybe something to do with the Purgatory demons.” Dean watched him think that over and come to a conclusion.

“Well, I suppose you are his favorite pet, Dean. He might believe you, I’ll give you that one.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll share something. The Purgatory demons, as you call them, ruin humans as hosts for us. Whatever they do to the body makes it impossible for us to gain entry again.”

“We’ve seen how they change the host. Makes them no longer human. You’re incapable of possessing someone who’s been possessed by one of them?”

“I believe I said that, yes.”

He wasn’t sure how that helped them, but it was something they hadn’t known. “How about when one of you is possessing someone? Can one of them possess you that way?”

“Don’t know.”

But he did know. Dean could see it in the smirk on his lips. “I think you do.”

A muscle on his jaw ticked. “I think you’re mistaken.” Crowley half turned away and asked, “Have you noticed where they’ve been primarily congregating these days?”

“Overseas,” Sam replied. “Africa and China. Some here in pockets. The reports are odd. They’re on the news and internet, but there’s been no panic like there should be.”

“That’s a spell, probably cast over the world by Castel himself. Archangels could do that and Death can, of course.” He said it like they should have known it as fact already. “And?” When Dean and Sam merely glanced at each other, he heaved a long impatient sigh. “Why do I deal with you two cretins? Who do we all know who’s been traipsing around the globe putting hands on people in those exact countries? Must I spell it out?”

“Castiel.”

“Yes. Now take a closer look at the who the creatures are possessing and changing right now.”

Dean leaned against the workbench. “The ones he healed?”

“That’s a wide range, isn’t it? People all over the world. Hundreds. Thousands.”

Scary thought. Did raising a person from the dead count as healing? If it did…. Dean swallowed hard and forced himself to finish that thought. If it counted, then Jo and Ellen were among the number of those who could be hurt right now. “You’ve connected those dots how?” They could do a search on the U.S. victims, see how many really had been healed by Castiel, or at least how many had publicly admitted it.

“I have operatives all over the world, Dean. I’m the king of hell remember? It’s my job to know what’s going on with all the demons. Now…a little something in return. What do you know about them?”

“Wear silver.”

He blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yup. Pretty much.”

“That’s hardly worth what I told you.”

Dean shrugged. “You could be lying.”

“So could you.”

“Then, I guess we’re at an impasse.”

“Don’t screw with me, Dean. You won’t like what I can and will send at you.”

“You gonna threaten me, Crowley? How about I just leave you here for Castiel? A little present. I think he’ll like that, us catching the demon behind his assassination. Should get us some brownie points.”

“More than a few.” Sam moved to the stairs. “I think we should call him in now.”

“Awesome idea, Sam.” He stepped towards the stairs as well.

“Wait!” There was a slight tinge of panic to Crowley’s voice. “If that’s all you have, that’s all you have. I’m teasing is all. You take things so seriously.” He peered around the basement like he really did expect something to happen. “You should be thanking me about Castiel anyway. Now you know the Colt won’t work. You didn’t have to dirty your hands to find out.”

It was tempting to leave Crowley for Castiel for real. He was contemplating it, dreaming a little of finally being rid of Crowley, but he was right. They should be thanking him. The heat was on his ass, not theirs and if Castiel was out hunting Crowley, he wasn’t going to be watching them. He’d be too distracted. Dean looked at Sam, indicating the trap with a tilt of his head.

Sam nodded and stepped to it. He knelt and scratched away a section of one line.

“Much obliged, Lurch,” Crowley said and disappeared.

“Maybe we should have told him about Meg,” Sam said as he stood back up.

“No. Cas will be looking for Crowley.” He emphasized that and after a few seconds, Sam nodded.

“Right. We can…take care of other things.”

“Yeah. Let’s go see if Jo’s got anything yet.”

Dean turned out the light and followed Sam up the steps.

Chapter 19

Jo ended up staying awake all night, both Sam and Dean helping her after they were done with Crowley. Dean crashed in Bobby’s chair around three, but she and Sam kept going. Sam used the laptop and his phone and Jo alternated between Bobby’s computer and her phone. They worked with maps spread out, making marks according to the key they’d worked out.

She yawned, covering it with a hand, and blinked twice at the phone number in the address book. With her yawning every minute or so, making calls wasn’t a good idea. Jo ripped a small sticky note off the pad at her elbow and placed it on the page to mark her place. She rested her chin in her hand.

So far, the hunters she’d talked to were aware of the existence of the PD’s and one claimed that waving something iron into the mist made it dissipate. She’d see if anyone else on her list corroborated it and if no one did, she’d mention it with skepticism. Each hunter took the silver idea seriously and most already wore something silver on them. Few in the U.S. seemed to have actually come face to face with the gray mist or one of the changed humans, live or dead. Maybe she’d have better luck with the overseas contacts.

Sam brought over a cup of coffee and gestured at the couch with his other hand. “Either you can drink this and stay up or I can drink it and you take a nap. Your choice.”

“I should sleep awhile. Can’t think straight anymore.”

“I’ll keep working.”

“Why don’t you get some rest, too?” Standing, she stretched.

He set the mug on the desk and shook his head as he sat back down. “Insomnia. It’s a side effect. I’ll be okay. I’ll sleep later if I can.”

“You sure?”

“Go on.”

Jo slept until Dean woke her at nine. She tossed off the blanket she didn’t remember having earlier, made a trek to the bathroom, and had a cup of coffee and toast that Dean made for her as he made his own. They ate in companionable silence at the table before clearing the dishes. Then it was back to work while Sam took her place on the couch and Dean assisted her in making calls.

Around lunchtime, she cleared her throat. “We have correlation,” Jo announced to him, placing her hands flat on the table and leaning on them. “Or the good beginnings of it anyway. The trail of attacks starts about fifty miles from here the night of the assassination and moved primarily east. There are reports in Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Maine, and more. Sam found reports starting up overseas yesterday. The blue marks are where actual attacks have been happening, with changes to hosts and the rest are sightings of the mist.” It looked pretty clear to her that the stuff coming from Castiel was attacking people and changing them.

“Excellent,” Dean replied, leaning over to look at the map. “Though not excellent for the victims.”

“I know what you meant.”

“You get anything on how to fight them, because I’ve got nothing but a bunch of scared hunters making guesses.” He folded the map and set it aside.

“One hunter here I talked to insisted that waving something iron through the mist makes it dissipate like a ghost and that silver is a definite go for us. Said he witnessed mist try to enter four people and it couldn’t. Each was wearing silver.”

“Good to know we guessed right.”

“Killing them or returning them to purgatory, though, that’s the problem. One guy in Italy said he might try working up a ritual to both summon them and send them back to Purgatory while another in Austria suggested changing around some words in the exorcism ritual to draw them out and send them back. He didn’t want to try that idea out himself, though. He was all for us trying it and letting him know if it worked.”

“Don’t blame him. Basically, you’ve got nothing, too.”

“Right. Just stuff we already know. It doesn’t look like many hunters have actually come across them live.” She closed the notebook. “I wonder what would happen if they stayed in a host. None of them we’ve heard about seem to stay very long, just long enough to change us. It’s weird. Even demons try to stay in a host, use them as long as they can for one reason or another.”

“Maybe their endgame is to make us all crazy creatures so we kill each other off. It’d kill off all the monsters out there, too, the ones that depend on humans for food or to propagate. It’d destroy the pagan gods…just about everything.”

“It’d destroy the world.” She wondered if Castiel meant to let them loose on the world, like a wrathful god cleansing the planet sort of thing or if they were accidents. If the former, he needed stopped before he could let more loose. If the latter, he needed to clean up his mess. “Do you think he’s letting them loose on purpose?”

Dean glanced at her, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Even with everything else he’s done, I don’t want to believe he’d intentionally let something like this out. Then again, he’s not too rational anymore.”

In the other room, Sam stirred, clearing his throat. The couch springs squeaked as he moved.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Jo.”

“You’ve known him longer. You know him better.”

“I thought I knew him,” he replied with a frown. “Turns out I don’t think I ever did really know Castiel.”

They talked for awhile longer, speculating on why the mist was going after the people Castiel had healed -- if Crowley’s information was right. Without the hard data themselves, they were all hesitant to come to any conclusion, but their general opinion was that Castiel healing those people had marked them somehow in a way the PD’s knew they could exploit. Sam started looking into Crowley’s information while Jo and Dean worked on making lunch.

Jo hoped Sam would be successful in finding the information because going off of what a demon said bothered her, especially when that demon was Crowley.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen found a picnic spot a ways off one road and parked. She took out a thermos of coffee and a book in case Castiel wasn’t inclined to show up right away, and sat on one picnic table. She called for him and waited. While she didn’t particularly want to have anything to do with him at present, she did this because Dean had asked her to.

She’d read several chapters and gone through most of the coffee when she felt a breeze rise up and heard his voice.

“Ellen.” He appeared several feet away, watching her with wariness. To her, he looked as sick as he had on the TV screen during the baptismal ceremony. Getting up from being dead hadn’t improved his situation.

“Castiel.” She turned down the corner of her book and set it aside.

He slowly circled the table she was sitting on before asking, “Why did you call me?”

“To see how you’re feeling.”

His smile was rueful and more than a little sad. “You don’t care how I’m feeling.” His voice was raspy, like his throat was sore and talking only hurt it. “None of you do.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve repeatedly threatened both you and Jo with being returned to dust. I contemplated taking Jo’s memories. I pushed Sam’s wall down. I have lied on occasion.”

He knew his sins at least. She placed her hands on the table behind her and leaned back a little. “All true facts,” she agreed. “I do care, though.” In a sort of ‘how sick is he and how can we use it’ way. Nearly erasing who Jo was hadn’t endeared him to her at all. “Are you hurt?” His breaths were shallow and she got the feeling he was holding on to himself by a bare thread and that thread would soon be ready to snap.

“In a way.”

“How can God be hurt?”

He shook his head. “You know I’m not God, Ellen. I think you’ve known for awhile, too. You tend to see things like that….” He took a few steps to one side and turned back. “I’m being watched. Right now. I can feel it.”

It was a paranoid statement, said with a shifting of his gaze left and right, then up at the sky. “By the world?”

“No. I don’t count them. I’m being watched by something I can’t see, which I don’t understand because I see everything like a god does. This presence is out of my sight, though. I know it’s there. I feel it seeing everything I do. Watching.”

“How long have you felt it?”

“Awhile. Can you feel it?”

All she felt was the sun and the breeze. “No.”

“Oh. I’d hoped you would.” One hand raised, fingers sliding across his forehead. “Pain. Like a migraine stabbing at my temples and eyes.” His shoulders hunched, that hand dropping back to his side. “You didn’t come here and call me out of your own desire to know my welfare. I know that. I accept that. Dean asked you to because you all want to kill me.” The tiny laugh that left him was tinged with desperation. “Everyone wants to kill me. Demons, angels…. They worked together, you know. Crowley promised them my head on a platter.”

She’d known Crowley had tried to kill him, but hadn’t known angels had been involved. There was no doubt in her mind that he was sick and very much so. His pasty skin, the hint of sweat. Ellen would bet he was feverish and suspected nausea as well due to how he rubbed his stomach and would swallow like he was forcing something back. His conversation was rambling, as if he couldn’t keep his mind focused on one subject.

“I could apologize for things I’ve done, but it’d do no good, would it? I’m without.”

“Without?” She shook her head in confusion. What was he talking about? “Without what?”

“Hope. A prayer. Forgiveness.” He laughed. “I’m without. Fill in the blank.”

She eased from the table to stand. His manner was frightening, her heartbeat quickening as he continued, his voice earnest.

“I’m not sorry I raised you and Jo, you know, not sorry at all. You’re a good gift I was able to give Dean. You know, I’ve tried so many times to fix Sam’s mind and I can’t do it. It’s a puzzle. Do you like puzzles? I used to like them, the way the pieces fit together to form the complete picture in the end. Now, I hate them. I despise those pieces I can’t fit together and I can’t force them together with all of my powers.” His lips parted and he dry heaved, finally stumbling back. “Goodbye, Ellen.” He disappeared from view.

Her assessment? He was sick and scared, getting desperate, and she told Dean as much when she got back.

“Sick as in physically or mentally?”

A car approached and she heard a door slam outside. “Physically sick. He’s also showing signs of paranoia, talking about how he was being watched --”

“He had those before he took in the souls.”

“Oh. Well, my opinion is he’s failing fast and he knows we want him dead. You might try calling him yourself if you want more information. You might get more out of him.” But she could see from his expression that he didn’t want to be the one to call Castiel and deal with him.

The door opened, Bobby coming through into the house. “You owe me,” he said, slamming the door behind him. “You owe me big, Dean. I just suffered three hours with Connie.”

“And?”

“First off, her new best friend Margaret went on a personal spiritual retreat right after Cas got up out of the coffin. She doesn’t know where, only that it’s isolated so Margaret can reflect on her faith.” He rolled his eyes in opinion of that.

“She’s gone into hiding,” Sam translated.

“You got it.”

“So our window of opportunity to get Meg is gone.” Sam shot an almost irritated glance Dean’s way.

Ellen saw Dean stand up a little straighter, but ignore the criticism. “Go on, Bobby.”

“Connie was thrilled to talk to heathen like me and have the chance to convert me. I got the tour of the church, and heard an earful about how wonderful Castiel is. Nothing useful, of course. I had to tell her I needed to think and reflect before I took such a big step.”

“What about the Sheriff?”

“Hasn’t gotten back to me yet. She’s a little busy.”

Little changed over the next few days. Reports of the PD’s continued to trickle in, with sporadic reports of panic in isolated areas. Ellen wondered if whatever spell Castiel had put over the world to stop panic was failing as his body failed. Should be interesting to see what happened when he was eventually gone. Would panic slide over the entire world?

~~~~~~~~~~

With as much done towards Castiel and the PD’s as possible, Sam and Dean set out to work a few jobs. Jo didn’t come with them this time, though Sam knew Dean had tried to convince her to come. She’d wanted to take over Sam’s project, however, checking reports of healing with later reports of an attack, then death. Sam had found several and, as three weeks passed, he knew Jo had found enough to make Crowley’s information seem right.

During those weeks, they moved as fast as they could from one job to the next so they didn’t have to think about Castiel or the creatures he was leaving in the world. Sam had another medication and had come to the conclusion already that it wasn’t working the way it should. He was going to have to start a third one.

He laid in bed in the dark, the thought ringing his mind.

It wasn’t working.

With his eyes open, looking at the ceiling in the motel room, he waited for sleep. Instead, all he got was Lucifer standing at the end of his bed staring at him.

“You’re not real,” he whispered.

Lucifer cocked his head. “Are you so sure of that? I am real.” He paused for several long seconds, licked his lips and added, “Real to you.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over onto his side. He’d hoped this medication would be the one, but it wasn’t. He knew that already, after only a short while taking it. While Lucifer remained silent, Sam could feel the hallucination shifting position to stand between the two beds.

“Sleep is such a human thing. Your weak, feeble bodies and minds need rest to repair. A sign of how pathetic you all are. That soul inside you gives you that fragility.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer staring down, not at him, but at Dean. The sight disturbed him more than if he’d been staring at Sam himself.

“Do you remember being without your soul, Sam?”

Of course he did. He’d reintegrated that part of himself. Lucifer knew that.

Lucifer’s sigh was wistful. “You were almost perfect then. You didn’t sleep, ate because you thought you had to. Quite a team we would have made, an even more perfect vessel than you already are if not for the fact that angels need a soul in residence. Even I have no way around that.” He looked over his shoulder at Sam, a small smile forming. “But you have your soul again, don’t you?”

He drew the covers up.

“You have your soul and you pulled the pieces of yourself together when Castiel pushed down the wall. Except for me. You left me out in the open. Why are you being stubborn, Sam? Why won’t you make me a part of you again? Why do you keep me out?”

“You’re not real. You’re not a piece of me. You’re just a hallucination.”

Lucifer sat on the bedside, the mattress dipping. “I think you’ll get tired of this eventually, of denying me and what I am to you. You’ll bring me back into you and we’ll be whole again.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to be joined with you again. But until then…. Let’s play.”

His hallucinations began then, as terrible as they’d been that day with Ellen and Bobby after Chuck had gone. Images slid into each other, over and over, until he knew, suddenly, that he was asleep and dreaming.

“Sam. Listen to me.”

The voice was urgent, the same voice he’d been hearing in his dreams. He blinked. He was on the floor, curled up, waiting for the next long stretch of torture to begin. He could see bloody stripes crisscrossing his arms.

“I can only do it if you ask me. You know that. ”

Michael crouched down beside him, his grin menacing, the pleasure in Sam’s pain obvious. He shoulder shifted, giving Sam a brief glimpse of another Michael, the one he understood that the voice came from, his arms crossed and wings spread wide, a splash of white in the filthy ugliness of the cage. Just below the feathers on the right, he could see Adam’s piece of the cage, protected from harm.

The shoulder obscured his vision again, pain beginning anew and Michael’s face growing larger in his vision.

“Sam.”

He woke with a jerk. It was day already and he heard the shower running.

The dream began to fade even as he struggled to hold on to it, desperate to keep that…what?…memory?…from disappearing. If it was a memory, then it hadn’t been Michael torturing him, but rather Lucifer wearing Michael’s face.

He knew he had to remember that, but it was so hard to keep it in focus….

“Boy, I feel refreshed,” came Lucifer’s voice from the bed beside him. He was lounging on Dean’s bed, his hands behind his head. “Nothing like a good night’s sleep, is there, Sam?”

He stared at his hallucination a long moment, then reached for his pills.

Michael hadn’t tortured him.

Sam tested that thought in his mind a few times and, each time he said it to himself, it rang of truth. Michael hadn’t participated in torturing him which meant it had been Lucifer all along. While he felt a little stronger for keeping that knowledge from fading, why was it important he remember that?

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was looking through the stack of papers Jo had handed him upon their return when Castiel appeared.

“Hello, Dean.”

He set the papers down and leaned against the desk. Bobby was out working and they had a short while before Sam, Ellen, and Jo would be back with dinner and he studied Castiel the way he’d asked Ellen to three weeks earlier.

She was right. Castiel was in a bad way. Pasty, pale, and sweating. Three signs of illness. “You know it was Crowley, right,” he blurted out. “The one who tried to assassinate you?”

Castiel sighed and sat down in one chair at the table. For a second, he seemed like his old self. “I’m aware of his treachery.” He laid one arm on the table and spread the fingers of that hand out. His fingers trembled. “He’s been trying to figure out how to kill me for months now.” One brow raised. “Like you, Sam, and Bobby. Now Ellen and Jo.” Candor flickered in his eyes. “I’m aware of that as well.”

“Do you blame us?”

He considered the question and finally shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

The answer surprised him and Dean blinked. He hadn’t expected Castiel to be able to look back and see that mistake he’d made. “You don’t?” Slowly, he moved forward.

“I’ve not been as balanced in my rule as I should have been. I’ve focused more on keeping you all in line than on my affection for you.” He patted the table. “Tell me, Dean. Are you honestly happy with Jo? Has your life improved with her in it?”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.” He swallowed twice, a noisy gulping sound.

“Sure. It’s been nice having Jo and Ellen around. Nice they’re alive. What’s this about, Castiel?”

“Has Sam’s life improved with them here?”

“Sam’s life would be improved the most if you’d heal him.”

Castiel sighed and looked away. “I’m not here to talk about that.”

“What are you here to talk about?” He didn’t feel like toeing the line today.

“I wish to just talk. We used to talk, Dean.”

“Are you serious?” Talk? Was he back wanting to go get beers together?

“Yes.”

Dean rubbed a hand along his neck. “We can’t go back. We can’t do the friend thing.”

“Why?”

“You have to ask? You went dark side, Cas. You broke my brother and kept poking at him. You refused to let go of the purgatory souls, called us insignificant, started smiting people in your name, changed the rules for everything you could get your hands on…. Oh, and you’re spitting out things that are changing the makeup of the human body and turning us into monsters. They’re everywhere. Did you know that? Are you aware of how many of them are showing up?”

“I am.”

“Why should I sit here and talk with you like we’re buddies? The buddy ship sailed the day you started lying and crashed when you broke Sam’s mind just to distract me. We’re not friends.”

He looked up at Dean with a hurt expression. “I gave you two friends back that you dearly missed, gave you a chance to have a functional romantic relationship within your lifestyle --”

“Ordered Jo to just stop being a big part of who she is to achieve that.”

“I ordered her not to hunt so she’d stay safe for you. My plan was not supposed to be to her detriment. It was to keep her safe and keep you from worrying about her.” His voice steadily rose as he spoke and he coughed when he finished, a hacking cough that sounded painful, on hand covering his mouth.

“I worry about her anyway.”

“Oh.” Castiel swallowed again, another gulp.

The ‘oh’, said like he didn’t understand pissed Dean off. “Oh. Oh? Do you have any idea why I worry about her now? I worry because she’s dying in that role you shoved her into. It’s killing her to sit around doing nothing all day. She’s a hunter, that’s her job, and I want her out there with me, with Sam, with Ellen or Bobby. I want to see her happy again and she’s not happy.”

Castiel blinked, licked his lips, and cocked his head. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized her being completely safe at Bobby’s house would be worrying for you.”

It was almost sarcasm. Almost, but not quite. Dean clenched his jaw tight.

“As for your points…. The souls gave me power and insight into the world I’d lacked.” One hand moved to his stomach and rested there. “They were necessary to defeat Raphael and the world needed a leader. Heaven needed a leader.”

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, and not Dean, of that. “So you decided it had to be you and declared yourself God. Nice.”

“You are insignificant as a whole, Dean. The human race is like ants and always has been to creatures of a higher order.”

“Thanks. Makes our former friendship so much more special to know you lowered yourself from your towering place up high,” he illustrated using both hands, “down to the position of an ant. I’m touched. Really.”

“You’re being irrational. I’m stating a fact.”

“Your facts are skewed. If we’re all ants, why did you bother rebelling against your brothers for any of us? Do you remember that? I do. You rebelled for us.”

There was a flash of irritation in his eyes. “I rebelled to help you.”

“And I’m human which means I’m an ant according to you. The question stands. Why did you rebel for an insignificant species? For that matter, why do you bother trying to govern us at all? Head off planet. See the universe. Let us piss ourselves since we’re worth so little in the scheme of things. No reason for you to care if the ants destroy themselves and their home, is there?”

He sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. “You’re quite frustrating at times, Dean.”

He spread his arms and shrugged. “If I’m so frustrating, step on me. I’m an ant. You can play with a million other ants or, hey, here’s a thought.” He pressed his index finger to his lips, then pointed at Castiel and shook it. “Step on me, then bring me back, and repeat it a few hundred times.” As the conversation had gone on, Dean realized he was no longer afraid of Castiel. What he was was angry. “Or how about this? You start manning up to every single mistake you’ve made since that civil war started, including breaking Sam.”

Castiel stood and stepped close. His eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to start throwing stones in the mistake department? I believe there’s a saying about stones in glass houses that could easily apply.”

He’d made his share of mistakes, sure, but he did own up to them. He was in the right here, not Castiel. Dean stared at him, refusing to be the first one to blink, though his eyes were drying from staring.

He won that little contest, Castiel stepping back. “Perhaps our talk should happen at a later date. After you’ve calmed down.”

“I’m perfectly --”

He was gone.

“You dick. That’s it. Run away when you start losing an argument!”

It had felt good to be angry, but he had to wonder if Castiel was going to return and try to discipline him.

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew Dean was angry with him and had left their discussion only because keeping calm would have been more difficult as they spoke. He had to remain calm to keep the Purgatory creatures inside. Any strong emotion made them spill out and he was fast losing all control over himself. He could barely do anything now without losing some of the mist. He couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. At the rate it was going, he suspected he only had a few months at most left with the souls inside him. Who knew what would happen after that?

He felt a mix of fear and anger. Fear for what he now thought was happening to him and anger that he was being made helpless and vulnerable. The fear was the worst. It crawled up his back and hugged him. He wasn’t God and since he wasn’t, it stood to reason that he’d never attained that state and had merely thought he had. He could be hurt or killed. Castiel was losing everything he’d gained and was very afraid of what had to be coming next.

He wandered about Sioux Falls for awhile, invisible to most, finally deciding to visit Constance.

Castiel paced in Constance’s living room, waiting for her to arrive. He thought he should give her some instructions for the church, long range plans. It would be the prudent course of action in case…. He forced himself to finish the thought. In case something happened to him. In case this illness was leading to his real death.

“Hello, Castiel.”

The voice was low and sultry, playful. Definitely not Constance. “Meg.” He turned.

“My former little tree topper gone supernova.” She smiled. “Just look at you now. Strong and sexy.”

He almost laughed at that. He was hardly strong anymore, though he was still hanging in at the top. “What do you want?”

“I want to deal.”

“Deal?”

“You’ve got a problem.”

“Do I?” He had several. Which was she referring to?

“Yes. Crowley. You know…. The one who tried to assassinate you?” She said it like she thought he didn’t know.

“Not your concern.”

“But he is my concern, Castiel. He’s on my throne taking up space.”

“Your throne,” he repeated. This should be interesting.

“Yes, mine. I was Azazel’s heir, his beloved daughter. I should be on that throne down below, but Crowley weaseled his way in and stole my place.”

None of that meant anything and he knew it. Demonic politics were a million times worse than the worst of human politics. Practically every demon thought they should be on that throne as king or queen. “Let me guess. You want me to get rid of him.”

“You always were a smart one.” She stepped closer. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You rule here and I’ll rule below. I promise I’ll be an obedient girl and follow every rule you can give me.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’re the submissive type.”

“I can be and, baby, if you ever fall, I’ll make you my king and you can help me rule hell. I’d make sure none of them can put a hand on you. That’d be my privilege. It’s a win-win no matter what happens.”

“Why would you do anything to help me?”

She moved even closer, a hand stretching out to slide across his chest. “Because, silly. I believe in you. Did you know that? I’ve been part of your church since the day it was formed. Funny, isn’t it? A demon in church, but I went. I went every service just to serve you. I’ve shown my devotion to you. Ask anyone. Ask Constance. Crowley on the other hand…. He has no real vision. He’s actively trying to kill you.”

“And you never would.” He was finding it harder to see her true face nestled beneath the host she was using. While that in itself alarmed him, he noticed how pleasing the features and form of her host were. She’d picked a pretty young woman way back when she’d chosen this one, a woman who was of just the right height to fit well against him.

“I know an advantageous thing when I see it. We could be each other’s advantage. Think about it. You and me forever. Ruling creation.” Raising up, she pressed her lips to the side of his mouth. “We could be good together, Castiel.” Another kiss was placed to the other side of his mouth. “And by good I mean so hot we could set the world on fire.” Her lips brushed his, tongue flicking out to swipe across his mouth.

He felt the same sort of stirring inside him he’d had when he’d kissed her months earlier. Castiel remained still, resisting the urge to pull her against him. Where was the urge coming from? Why was he feeling it? That kiss he’d given her rose up in his mind, replayed over and over.

“You’d enjoy all the things I can do to you and we can do together. I’ve learned a lot in centuries, things I’m completely willing to share with you.” She loosened his tie and pulled it off, sliding it slowly away and dropping it to the ground. “This could be a new beginning for both of us. You can’t imagine all the wonderful, carnal things I have to teach you.” Meg reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Among other things.”

That he was actually listening to what she was proposing horrified him. Disgust welled up and he grasped her arms, shoving her away so hard that she stumbled and fell. “You’re an abomination. I’ll never ally myself with you.”

In slow degrees, rage mottled her features. “You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re not. Look at yourself.” She got up from the floor. Her contemptuous gaze slid over him. “What are you now? Polluted. Dirty. You fell, Castiel. That grace you had is long gone. You’re just as much of an abomination as I am.”

“No,” he protested while knowing deep down inside him that she was telling the truth. He was all those things. He’d become a monster and that was what he was in Dean’s eyes now. Just another monster Dean had to figure out how to put down.

Self-loathing mingled with his disgust at her, the spirits inside him beginning to surge.

“Yes.” Her smile was sly. “You deliberately sullied yourself. You made that decision. No one forced you to, no matter how you may look at it. You took that step all by yourself.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? I don’t think so. You did ally yourself with Crowley to begin with, remember? How am I worse than him? We’re both demons. Tell me, Castiel, why haven’t you already dealt with Crowley? I’d think trying to kill you would mean his instant death the second you woke up, yet he’s still out there.” She tilted her head. “Is it because you can no longer find him? It’s only reason I can think of for why you tolerate him alive, because what use can you have for the demon who tried to kill you and nearly succeeded?”

“It’s not your business.” She was right. He could no longer locate Crowley with a blink or even a snap. He could barely locate anyone, even Dean. One more power failing him.

“Hell is my business and he’s calling himself king which makes him mine. Think really hard before you refuse what I can do for you.”

“I don’t have to think. You can’t hurt me.”

“Can’t I?” She stepped back. “Care to bet on that?” Meg fled.

He stood still, contemplating her threat. His hands shook and he felt that familiar roll of the Purgatory spirits inside him. What could she do to him? He wasn’t sure her threat was real. Castiel began to pace, thinking back, trying to figure out what Meg thought she knew that would hurt him. He became more and more frustrated. Minutes passed, his thoughts turning in circles, the minutes flying by faster.

“Castiel?”

To his left came the tap of heels on tile. Constance had returned. She took her coat off and came to him, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Are you okay?” She stepped in front of him, looking up at him. Constance gasped. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Castiel pulled away and disappeared from her view, throwing himself from her house. He landed somewhere on Bobby Singer’s property. His control over himself was tenuous at best and he fought against losing control. It was a losing battle. The purging began and he couldn’t seem to get his control back once it started.

~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, Jo grabbed her jacket and set out down the lane towards the field. As she walked, she thought of the Purgatory demons and how fast they were gaining ground. Every day that passed brought in new reports. She kept hoping they’d find some way to fight them. Reports of panic were increasing, videos of the changed humans showing up again on YouTube. Whatever curtain had been over the world regarding the creatures was lifting.

She kept her eyes on the field as she walked and was nearly to the fence when someone cleared their throat ahead.

Jo looked up. Meg was at the fence, leaning against it like she’d been waiting awhile.

“Relax. I’m not here to hurt you,” the demon drawled.

Jo took a step back from her. “Then why are you here?”

“We never did get our little talk, but that’s not on the agenda anymore because I think I know how you’re alive. I’m betting the former angel pulled you down. Talk in some circles says you’re even Dean Winchester’s whore. That must bite considering you were a hunter before.”

“I’m not --”

Meg waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I have information for you and you want to listen to me, Jo.”

“After the lies you told me last time we really talked? About my dad and John? About Dean?”

She smiled. “The first wasn’t a lie. An exaggeration perhaps, but not a lie. The second….” She shrugged her brows once. “Maybe I stretched the truth a bit. I had to have some fun and you were so smitten I couldn’t resist.”

Jo shook her head. “I won’t listen to anything you tell me.”

“You should consider my intel. I’ve helped out on occasion. Ask the boys.”

“When it served your own interests.”

“Still helping. It counts.” She spread her hands, gestured. “I want to help you here, Jo.”

“And how will you telling me anything help you?”

“For one, it’ll give that former angelic prick something to think about. He thinks I can’t harm him? We’ll see about that. Listen.” She pushed off from the fence, gave the field around them a long look, and lowered her voice. “I’ve been observing Castiel for months now.”

“Stalking him.”

“I call it observing. It’s why I came here to Sioux Falls. He hangs around here a lot and sucking up to Connie didn’t take all of my time. I had plenty left to watch him when he showed up. Believe it or not, I really don’t give a rat’s ass about you being dead or alive. Doesn’t matter to me unless you try to kill me. Are you…planning on trying to kill me, Jo?”

“Not right this second. Maybe tomorrow.”

She laughed. “He may have been full of power in the beginning, but those days are done. He’s losing those creatures faster than he can replace the energy and power they gave him. You can see it if you watch him closely.”

Jo mulled over her words, then asked, “He’s bleeding out?”

“Big time. Now here’s the kicker. Whenever he shows emotion, he loses control over himself and those things come spilling out. Emotion, especially high emotion like anger, makes those things pour like Niagara Falls. Won’t be long until he can be killed by conventional means. The Colt did a number on him. Whatever is happening to him appears to have sped up when Crowley shot him. He’s been bleeding heavily since he got up out of that stupid glass coffin Connie insisted on. I’ve been following him closely since he rose. He’s not as observant as he thinks.”

“I thought you wanted him?” Jo took a few steps to the left, not taking her eyes off Meg. “Now you’re talking killing him.”

“No one likes rejection, Jo. Least of all a demon and least of all from an abomination like him. I may be a demon, but I have my place in things. But him? He’s an abomination that was never supposed to be in the first place.”

Jo read between the lines. “He turned you down.” A woman scorned was never a good thing, but a former woman who was now a demon scorned? Doubly bad. Meg was wanting to give Castiel both barrels several times over if her intel was any indication.

“Yes.”

“And you came to me because…”

“We’re both women here. Or at one time we both were. I came to you out of sisterly solidarity. We both --”

“Bullshit. What’s the real reason you came to me? I’m not buying that sister crap. Why me specifically? You could have gone to any of us and you chose me.”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say I think it’s justice for the woman that he raised to be Dean Winchester’s sex toy to know his secret. You could be his downfall, sweetie.” Meg began walking away. “Do what you want with the information. I’m taking a vacation for awhile.”

Jo watched until Meg was gone, then started back to Bobby’s house. She’d almost reached the main lot when she saw a large cloud of gray shoot up into the sky. Curious, she searched for the origin.

It was Castiel.

He was on his knees, the cloud pouring from him and when it stopped, he collapsed to the ground.

Slowly, she moved forward.

Chapter 20

I’m dying.

The thought surfaced as pain cramped Castiel’s stomach. His emotions had a heavy price. He vomited gray mist so hard that his temples throbbed with pain and his limbs shook. He felt like it was never going to end, but it finally, blessedly, did.

When it was over, he lay still in the cool grass, letting the cold soothe his body. Cas pressed his cheek to the grass, smelling the scents of earth, rain, and grass. There was a very faint metallic taste in the back of his mouth. He’d been dealing with this sickness for what felt like forever now and he wanted it over with. Surely there’d come a point when it was done, or was he going to spend eternity like this?

He couldn’t think clearly, his mind a jumble of different thoughts that bled into each other.

Slowly, he became aware of someone approaching with a soft tread. Boots came into view and he looked up to see Jo watching him with curious eyes. She circled his prone form, studying him, keeping her distance and drawing a knife -- that same knife that he’d retrieved and given to Dean to keep for her. He should have known Dean would give it right back to her. Why hadn’t he realized that?

Arrogance. That was why. He’d been arrogant enough to believe that Dean would obey him on anything when it was far from the truth. Dean hadn’t even obeyed the angels as a whole. He’d been there to witness that, even assisted Dean in alternative plans. Why had Castiel thought Dean would obey him? More arrogance. Because he’d threatened him and Jo both.

Silly, he understood now. He’d been silly in his assumptions and began to feel regret inside him.

He was reminded of Dean and Sam in the way she moved around him. That look on her face indicated that she’d been a witness to his fit and was processing what it all meant. She was understanding just how sick he was.

Jo was dangerous.

He saw it in the slow, satisfied smirk that turned her lips and in the slight lift of her chin.

This was bad. He had to make her fear him again, or something, to keep her from telling them. He had to stop her from making those deadly connections that would give them everything they needed against him.

“Jo.” Castiel stretched out a hand to her boots, desperation scurrying through him. Perhaps he’d talk to her, make her understand, convince her to look the other way this once…. She waited until he almost touched them before taking a deliberate step away.

Anger rose at that movement and his temper slipped. Forcing himself up, he reached for her, though his insides still cramped with unceasing pains and he felt like he was being engulfed in fire, sweat dampening his clothes. He’d do what he could with the powers he had left.

Only there were no powers, he discovered. He couldn’t even glimpse one memory. Touching her forehead was like touching a dead thing. No connection was formed, nothing. There was nothing he could do and he saw her realize that as well.

No. No.

She needed to be distracted from that, made to reconsider telling them anything. Desperation was like a bug crawling inside him, never ceasing in movement. He had to do something, but what?

~~~~~~~~~~

The satisfaction that sparked inside Jo upon seeing Castiel hurting was immediately replaced by surprise that Meg had told her the truth. Imagine that. A demon telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Dean had once told her they would sometimes if they thought it’d mess with a person. This didn’t mess with her, though. It was actually helpful.

She watched him, taking in the scene, her hand slipping inside her jacket to retrieve her knife. Jo held it, trying to decide if she should strike and where. The throat perhaps? One quick slice and he’d bleed blood and not just power. Could he heal from that? Did he retain healing capacity?

When he stretched out a hand to her, she stepped away, knowing that step was likely going to have consequences. She did it anyway, not wanting him to touch her, not the way he was. His hair was plastered to his head, wet with sweat and Jo imagined she could almost smell the obvious sickness on him, a small whiff of decay and rot.

He lurched to his feet and Jo was able to evade him for several steps, but then his hand caught her wrist, his grip hard and pinching. Jo was barely able to hold on to the knife, his fingers digging in, trying to force her to drop it. She fought him, raking the nails of her free hand over his skin, but he dragged her close, his other hand raising, two fingers brushing her forehead. Jo stared up at him with defiance, not sorry at all that she’d seen what she had.

Blood dripped down his cheek where her nails had cut him, a wound that didn’t heal as she watched.

There was a flicker of surprise, then anger and surprise again, his features taking on a ruddy hue. Castiel snatched his hand away and gulped in a breath. “On second thought, Dean prefers you this way. Willful, mouthy, and disobedient.”

Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, it had seemed…well…like he couldn’t harm her anymore and he was alarmed by that. He tried to cover it up with his words, to pretend like it was his decision, but she’d seen his expression. It had been clear. What he’d thought would happen hadn’t. Jo peered at him more closely, mind going over what that could mean for them. If he couldn’t hurt her, she was safer around him than she ever had been. It meant he was less powerful than he’d been in a long time and Meg was very right. It wouldn’t be long before he could be killed as easily as a human.

He took them both to Bobby’s house. She found herself thrust at Dean so hard that she stumbled and fell to her hands and knees on the floor. The knife fell, clattering and sliding.

“Control your wife or I will,” Castiel spat. “She’s messing with things she has no business in anymore.”

Dean ignored his words like he hadn’t spoken at all, crouched, and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“She’s on thin ice. Frankly, I’m disappointed in both of you. You either can’t or won’t keep her in her place --”

“Screw off,” Jo snapped at him. “I don’t give a damn what you think of me! You’re not a god. You’re not the God. You’re just another monster now with delusions of grandeur.”

“Control her,” he shouted at Dean, the words almost choked. His face reddened and hands clenching into fists.

“Or what,” Dean stepped so that Jo was behind him. “What are you going to do? Threaten her again? Threaten Ellen? Threaten all of us? Then do it already and leave.”

The ground began to shake, items falling from shelves to break into pieces on the floor. Jo grasped at Dean’s shirt to steady herself. There was a loud crash from outside of metal falling on metal and a terrible rumbling from beneath the house. Jo heard voices, Sam, Bobby, and her mother. The rumbling stopped and moments later, they appeared. Sam and Bobby from the basement and Ellen from upstairs.

“There’s a crater where my workbench was,” Bobby said, staring at Castiel. “Ground opened up, pulled everything down into it. I have a damn sinkhole in my basement.”

“Damn near took me with it,” Sam added. He had a bleeding gash on his temple, another on his left arm, and mud and dust on his jeans. His hands were visibly shaking.

Jo saw that her mother was also sporting cuts on her exposed skin, though Ellen didn’t say what had happened upstairs.

“Do you wish more, Dean,” Castiel asked, eyes wide, only he wasn’t looking at Dean. He was looking at her.

His desperation has never been more apparent, Jo thought. He’s not acting from malice, but anxiety. He’s trying to distract me from what I saw, force me not to say anything. He’s losing it completely.

“I could drown this house in rain and all of you with it, bring a tornado through to pull her up,” he gestured at Jo, “and spit her out, or,” he shrugged, “I could snap their necks and toss them outside for you to bury. Do you want more? Have I made my point? I will act. I will.”

Dean’s nod was stiff, jaw clenched, tight with anger.

Castiel disappeared and outside, wind started up.

“What the hell was that all about,” Ellen asked, sitting in the nearest chair to the stairs.

“I don’t know. Jo?” Dean turned to look down at her. “What did you do that got him so pissed?”

She could still feel Castiel there, that the sensation she sometimes had when he was watching them. It remained. He may have disappeared, but he was still there, listening, waiting to hear what she’d say, what she’d tell them. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you serious,” Sam asked, glancing at her, then back down at the cut on his arm.. “What happened that he thought he had to cause an earthquake?”

Bobby stepped closer. “Jo?”

She glanced at the window. The wind continued to whip up dust outside.

After a quick glance there, he seemed to understand and cleared his throat. “Maybe you two better just go to bed.”

Dean nodded. “You might be right. We’ll help clean up in the morning.” He led her upstairs and into the bedroom. As soon as the door was closed he again asked what had happened.

Jo went to the window and peered through the crack between the boards.

“Jo?”

When the wind died down and the crawling sensation between her shoulder blades ceased, she removed her jacket and set it aside. “I was coming back from my walk and I saw a cloud of that gray stuff going up into the sky. I wanted to see if it was him. It was. It poured out, sort of like watching smoke come up from a chimney, right into the sky. When it was over, he just dropped to the ground and laid there panting and moaning.”

“What were you thinking, going towards him when he was spitting those things out?”

“I’m wearing silver.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“Dean, he’s bleeding out,” she told him, moving to stand directly in front of him. “That’s what I was thinking as I watched him. I tried to figure out where I could cut him that would hurt him physically. I’d almost decided on his neck, when he reached out to me. I stepped back so he couldn’t touch me and it pissed him off.”

“Bleeding.”

“That’s what I saw. It’s what he’s trying to distract us from with those over-the-top threats. The earthquake. He’s losing powers and control for real and tying to hide it. It’s worse than it was.” She explained about his almost panicked expression before he’d seen her watching. Then, she told Dean about how he’d tried to do something to her and couldn’t, the surprise on his face.

“Are you sure he didn’t change his mind?”

“Yes. He couldn’t physically hurt me with his powers. He tried. I know he was trying and failing.”

“So you don’t think he’s letting those things out on purpose. You think --”

“He’s trying to keep them in and can’t, like his emotions. He can’t control it. All that earthquake and rain stuff is a desperate attempt to keep us in place. Shouldn’t he have been able to physically hurt us without using outside influences? Shouldn’t he have been able to raise a hand and send either of us across the room? If he’d been going to really snap our necks, he would have. He didn’t. He had to control the weather to hurt us. That’s something. That’s an odd choice of attack...unless it’s pretty much all he has left.” She smiled. “Think about that, Dean. Think about what it means. He’s out of control, knows it, and doesn’t want us to see it. He’s desperate.”

“Because if we understand what’s happening, we can hurt him. We can stop him.”

“Yes. Meg told me --”

“Meg? When did you see Meg again?”

“She showed up right before I saw him. She said that when he gets emotional, he loses control.”

He crossed his arms. “Putting Meg aside a moment….in theory, if she’s right and we piss him off enough, we can give the son of a bitch an embolism.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. The bigger the tantrum or emotional outburst, the faster he bleeds, the quicker --”

“He dies.” The hope in his eyes grew. “He dies for real and we’ll be done with him.” He uttered a quick laugh. “He has to know we’d realize that.”

“Hence the threats. I think he’s hoping we’ll feel too afraid to think about it.”

“Again, he has to know otherwise.”

“Probably he does somewhere in his mind.”

The hope in his eyes slid away and Jo saw it replaced with sadness. She knew what Dean was going to say before he even said it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The revelation Jo handed him was thrilling and exciting at first, until he thought about it. With Castiel acting irrationally, playing with the weather as his threats to them now, he could do things that were fatal as they tried to take him out. He could do things that were fatal as he attempted to warn them away. He could kill Jo and Ellen and then they’d be gone all over again. There were in infinite number of weather related ways he could kill them, too.

Dean grasped her arms. “I want you and Ellen gone.” He’d hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that.

She shook her head. “No, Dean --”

“He knows us, knows his threat won’t work, so he’ll be watching us even more. He’ll threaten us more. He’ll keep coming at us and if Meg told you the truth, we have to poke at him. We have to get him so pissed he blows up and I don’t want the two of you anywhere near when we poke him. I don’t want to take any chances on him retaliating against either of you. Jo, I mean it.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “We just got you back. I just got you back. I’ve got to know you’re alive out there away from him.”

She stepped closer, hands resting on his chest. “I can help. You know I can.”

“I know, but….” He hated to say these words to her again. “I don’t want your blood on my hands if this plan goes south and you know it might. He might take me and Sam with him when he blows.” Cupping her face, her swept his thumbs across her cheeks. “Please, Jo. Do this for me. If you died taking him out, I don’t know that I’d come back from that because it would be on my hands. If I can get you out to safety, I have to do it.”

“You two don’t have to do this alone.”

“You’ll be helping me by leaving. I’ll know you’re safe -- relatively anyway. Don’t tell me where you’re going. Change phone numbers and don’t call me or Sam or even Bobby. Cas could use the open line to find you. He’s done it to me often enough. Don’t share that number. Don’t let him use us to get to you. You do all that, you’ll save me a helluva lot of worrying about you. I can’t be concentrating on taking him down for good if I’m afraid he’s got you.”

“You’re talking about a complete break.” The breath she took shook, her chin quivering. “No. No!”

“Yes. Until he’s gone.”

“And how will we find you after? How will we know he’s gone if we’ve got a complete blackout between us?”

He’d been thinking about this, preparing for the possibility of getting them out. It had been on his mind a long time now, a thing he’d discussed with Sam, Bobby, and even Ellen in those moments Castiel had been on live tv. He’d never quite found a way to bring it up to Jo, knowing she wouldn’t want to leave. She’d want to stay and be a part of ending Castiel, but he couldn’t let her. He had to have her safe. This time, he would get her and Ellen out and before anything bad happened to either of them. “Mail drop maybe? Dad had a few and I know of one Sam’s kept active.”

“But we don’t have one.” She blinked. “We’ll get one. Then you could contact us. We’ll set one up, send the info to your drop. We’ll use an alias we haven’t ever used.” Her grip on his shirt tightened. “Coordinates. We can use coordinates whenever things die down. That’s how we’ll find each other. You send us coordinates to meet at.”

“Dad used to do that.”

“I know. Mom thought it was smart.”

“Then we’ll do that.” He embraced her tight, holding on because he knew the time to part was coming fast. The hours were going to fly by. “We can do this, Jo.”

Her response was slow. “Sure.” There was fear wrapped in that single word, a fear that they were over.

Drawing back, he shook his head. “Don’t think that way. We aren’t done. I swear we aren’t. This is temporary.” Tipping her chin up, he kissed her.

A floodgate of emotion opened wide and engulfed them both. If this was their last night, they’d make it worthwhile, something to return to in memories until they met again -- whenever or wherever that may be.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he left Jo sleeping and went downstairs. Ellen and Sam were on the couch and Bobby in his chair. None of them were asleep. They had the tv on low. When he came in the room, Ellen sat up.

“Dean?”

“Worst case scenario,” he said, trusting that they’d understand without further explanation.

Bobby leaned forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees and hands clasping. “You sure about this, son?”

“No,” Dean admitted. The urge to keep Jo close where he could see her was at war with his urge to send her away to protect her. She could get hurt either way. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” He licked his lips and bowed his head a moment. “Yes.”

Sam let out a long, slow breath. “Okay.”

Ellen covered her hand with a mouth, tears filling her eyes. She blinked rapidly, wiped them away, and nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

She got up, paused to grasp Sam’s shoulder, then moved towards Dean. Ellen touched his cheek and nodded again. “I do.”

They each had their part in the coming hours and he’d make sure Jo understood hers, too.

Dean returned to bed, and to Jo. He woke her. Dawn was coming fast and he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. They became reckless, a little careless, and when dawn arrived, Jo fled to the bathroom down the hall, returning later fresh from a shower and with eyes that looked swollen and red.

“I think he’s here,” she whispered. “I can feel someone watching when I’m in the hall.”

He knew she’d felt that before and trusted her on that. Still, he had to ask, “You sure it’s not nerves?”

“Definitely.”

“Then we proceed with caution.”

Ellen pretended like she was going on a solo hunt. She packed up one car, made a few comments about research she’d like done when she got back if Jo had time, and left. She’d made fake promises to call occasionally on the trip.

The morning felt heavy, like a weight bearing down on all of them and after they were done cleaning up the downstairs from the earthquake, Jo sat at the desk, making lists and notations on house listings. Periodically, she’d ask Dean a question on what he’d prefer and while he tried to concentrate, he couldn’t. He kept waiting for her to signal that the sensation was gone.

The day wore on, tension rising. Bobby headed outside to get a car ready for Jo. He’d be putting weapons and other provisions in it for her and if Castiel said anything, Bobby could always claim he was thinking about a taking a few days and working a job. That was a good thing about the cars he used. He tended to use a different one every time he left on a job, so packing a strange car wouldn’t matter.

By late afternoon, Dean’s nerves were stretched so thin that he was afraid he was going to snap any second. He paced the room to try to get rid of nervous energy. The skin on his back felt like it was crawling.

“Where is Ellen going?” Castiel’s voice came from the kitchen. “And what does ‘worst case scenario’ mean?” He stepped into view. His face looked thinner than it had been.

“Worst case means things can’t get much worse for us,” Sam told him. He was doing something with his phone. “We’re at the worst case.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what Dean meant. You’re planning something. It’s a plan. I remember how you talk. What are you planning?” He stepped forward. “Where is Ellen going?”

“On a hunt.” Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Weren’t you paying attention this morning? That was you standing around spying on us wasn’t it? You think we don’t notice?”

“I don’t spy,” Castiel denied. He wasn’t looking too steady on his feet, reaching out a hand to touch the doorframe.

“Of course you do. What other word is there for it, for listening to conversations that aren’t for your ears?” He argued with Castiel over that one word, pushing him a little. “Certainly sounds like spying to me.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Bobby came inside the house and went into the kitchen, ignoring Castiel.

“You’re trying to distract me.” Castiel coughed and swallowed. “Why are you hesitant to tell me where Ellen went? What is she doing?”

“Why do you care? Want to go spy on her now? Why does it matter where Ellen goes? You’ve never cared before. It was Jo you put a leash on and then you choked her with it.”

“Keep me out of this argument,” she called out as she joined Bobby in the kitchen.

Outside, the wind began to blow, a little at first, then faster and harder as the argument went on. “Tell me where she is,” Castiel demanded. He was paler than before, visibly swaying.

“No.”

“Tell me.”

Dean stepped close and stared hard at him. “Find her yourself.”

Turning, he went to Sam and held a hand over his head. “Tell me, or the last of Sam’s mind goes away.”

“Hey!” Sam evaded the hand and got up. “She’s headed towards Dallas, Texas. There’s what looks like a ghoul outbreak happening somewhere down there.”

Castiel’s lips thinned, but he lowered the hand and disappeared. The wind died down.

Jo let out a relieved sigh. “He’s gone. Finally.” She went upstairs and was back in a minute with her bag. Reaching for her boots, she put them on, then her jacket. “Guess that’s my cue. Now or never.”

Too soon. It was too soon for her to be leaving.

Dean cupped her face with his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips, hating that the gesture was so familiar for them now. It was much like the kiss in Carthage: tasting of tears and bittersweet with the knowledge that this was probably the last time they’d ever meet. “Seems like all we ever really have are goodbye kisses, Jo.”

She raised her own hands, touching his cheeks and forehead. “Priorities, Dean. What’s the priority here? We decided. You have to let me go, sweetheart. If we’re going to get out and you and Sam stop him, you have to let me go.” Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him, stroked his cheek one last time, and moved to the door. She was gone then and it was only them left with Bobby.

Too soon. She’d been his for too brief a time.

Jo would take a circuitous route to meet Ellen, one that could well take weeks. Ellen had gone north, then east somewhere and could be anywhere by now. Jo had assured him she knew where Ellen would eventually end up. Castiel had waited far too long to ask about Ellen. He wouldn’t find her. Nor would he find Jo. They were both gone.

We’re not over, he tried to reassure himself. When this is done, I’ll send her coordinates. She’ll come. We’re not over.

But Dean really did doubt that he’d ever see Jo again and the pain of that was as bad (and in some ways far worse) than when he’d realized that he was completely gone in Lisa’s memories. His heart ached, a very real physical ache. He was losing Jo all over again and he was the one who’d sent her away for safety. He wanted to call her back and never let her go again.

Sam slid his phone in his pocket. “Weather patterns took a sudden shift between here and Texas. Looks like severe weather on radar. It was clear a few minutes ago. He’s looking for her.”

A sign that Castiel had realized Ellen hadn’t gone where Sam had told him. Dean hoped anyway. He hoped they were right, prayed they were, and that they could do this.

“Well, do I have to kick you two in the ass to get you to leave?” Bobby’s voice was suspiciously thick.

In one fell swoop, they were losing everyone but each other and it hurt. The worst case scenario. It was time to return to the paranoia of times before the angels had come around and Dean knew it was best. Mail drops, coordinates, keeping quiet on the phones as much as possible.

Dean turned. “Bobby --”

“It’s all been said, Dean, now get your butts out of here before he’s done sending tornadoes across the great plain or whatever the hell he’s doing and you have a lot of explaining to do, most of it that’ll probably end in him killing you and raising you a few hundred times before he decides to listen to anything resembling reason.”

“He’s going to kill you, Bobby. You know that, right? You should leave, too.”

“We all got to go sometime.” He looked at Sam, who had gone very still, looking at something only he could see. “Now get out of here and make sure you protect your brother.”

“Been doing that all my life. Can’t stop now.”

“Good thing. He’s gonna need you, Dean.”

Going to Sam, Dean put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Sam?”

Sam looked at him, his eyes just out of focus. Slowly, they focused. “Dean?”

“Time to go.”

“Right. Bobby --”

“I know, kid. Back at you.”

The two nodded at each other and Dean steered Sam from the house. They were as prepared they could be. As they drove away from Singer Salvage, probably for the last time, Dean didn’t look back. They couldn’t afford to look back anymore.

He reached blindly for a tape and shoved it in, turning up the volume to a level Sam would normally protest about. This time he didn’t, and Kansas was with them as Dean drove along the highway.

Dean glanced at Sam. It was just the two of them against the world. Again.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You’re staring, Dean.” Sam looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah, well, you’re starting to look like a girl with that hair. Would it kill you to get a haircut?” It was an old argument between them, and a familiar one. He didn’t miss the grateful gleam in Sam’s eyes as he let Dean pull him into the old routine they had about his hair.

“Women like the hair, Dean.”

“Yeah, like you ever get laid. Monks come to you for advice on how to be chaste.”

The conversation went on and in it, Dean could almost see the ghosts of the men they used to be. Maybe some day those men could finally return.

Their first stop was to see Sam’s doctor. After that, they’d begin to hunt Castiel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby waited for Castiel to return with a sense of calm falling over him. He’d been through a lot in his life and while he didn’t particularly want to die, he’d do what he could to make Castiel even madder.

He turned on the computer and went to one of the weather sites Sam had bookmarked. It was updated frequently and he watched the weather system Sam had mentioned move in ways that had experts struggling to explain it. It moved in a search pattern, Bobby decided, back and forth, sweeping west and east as it moved north.

Getting up, he snagged a glass and bottle of whiskey, poured himself half a glass, and returned to the chair. It might take awhile, but he was sure Castiel would come back here when he couldn’t find Ellen.

Bobby had a drink for Ellen, then one for Jo, and one for the boys. He toasted them and their success, watching the storm system on the screen.

Time passed and he was half dozing when a noise outside startled him. He woke with a jerk and heard a light bulb shatter. Bobby stood and went to the window, looking out. All of his outside lights were out.

He knew it wasn’t Castiel, so who had come calling at this hour?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jody Mills hadn’t had an easy life for a few years now. She’d lost family and friends and recently lost friends and colleagues to the Church of Castiel. They were like Stepford people now, spouting the wisdom of the CoC.

Today? Today she’d lost her job and all because she’d refused to play ball. She’d stuck to her guns for what was right and that had bitten her in the ass.

She gritted her teeth and blinked fast, refusing to let them make her cry. They wouldn’t get that from her, not if she had any say in it. What some of them were pushing was wrong and she wasn’t going to be a party to it.

What should she do now? She sat in her car in her driveway, pondering that question. The few boxes of personal items from her office were in the trunk. They could go in the house. Jody didn’t feel like tripping over the CoC literature that plastered her doors, though. With her refusal to convert or make allowances for any of them, her house was always on their conversion stops. Their harassment stops, rather.

She’d gone to Constance about that a few times for other people in town and the woman had denied it. Jody had experienced it herself, however. Some of the CoC converts were nuts and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d heard it was happening all over the world, too. That church was getting out of control and it seemed like it was too late for anyone to do anything about it.

What she needed was to talk to someone who knew her, but who would listen to her concerns and know where she was coming from. Once upon a time, she’d had her pick of friends like that. Sadly, there was only one name left on her list who fit that criteria. Not really a friend, but more than an acquaintance.

Bobby Singer.

She drove to his house in silence, not turning on the radio because all that was on half the time were CoC ads, sermons, and music. She saw CoC members out and about, moving from house to house, and was glad when she turned onto the road to Bobby’s house. Shouldn’t be too hard to find him unless he was out of town.

Pulling up beside the house, she knew something was wrong without even leaving the car.

All the outside lights were out and his front door was open.

Bobby never left his front door open and if it was, it was a bad sign -- especially in light of what she knew of his life.

Taking her personal gun out, she got out of the car and moved towards the house. The door had been forced, the door jamb splintered. Jody proceeded slowly. The house and grounds were silent. Inside, she found Bobby on the floor, beaten and hurt, unconscious.

Jody called an ambulance. Those, at least, still came for anyone who called.

Chapter 21

Notes:

The Bible verse is from the New Living Translation version.

Jody Mills sat at Bobby’s bedside mainly because she had nowhere else to go. There was no one to see and nothing to do and at least she could keep the CoC vultures from sitting there waiting to pounce the second he woke from surgery.

When he did wake, he peered at her with groggy confusion. “Sheriff?”

“It’s just Jody now, Bobby. I’m no longer Sheriff.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to visit a friend in the hospital.”

“And came in to see me on your way?”

She smiled and gently patted his hand. “You’re the friend.”

“Nice to know. You’re not Sheriff anymore? When did that happen?”

“No, I’m not. It was yesterday now.” There had been a wait to get him in to the operating room and she’d wondered if the wait would be detrimental to his health. The doctor and nurses had reassured her the damage was already done, but Jody’s cynical side was getting quite a workout lately. She didn’t believe them, not with Bobby’s current state.

“What happened?”

“To me or you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I got fired,” she explained with a glance at the open door. “Let me close that.” When it was closed and she was back beside him, she went on. “I sort of knew it was coming. I wouldn’t do some things the church wanted and since there’s little support for anyone not pro-Castiel, I got the shaft. The interim Sheriff is a big Castiel supporter, gives a lot to the church.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I think you and I may be the only sorry ones about it. I’m not sure what happened to you, though. Looked to me like someone forced their way in and beat you.”

He swallowed, sighed, and laid his head back. “Church members. They shattered the outside lights and got in while I was reaching for my gun. They were fast bastards. Sam and Dean had left a few hours earlier. Guess the meeting I had with Connie got around and the church was impatient.” He raised his head up a little, looking down his body, suspicion and a growing sliver of fear in his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs. Can’t move them.”

What could she say here? The doctor was supposed to be the one to tell him this. “I’ll get your doctor.”

“Why can’t I feel them? Tell me straight.” His hand lashed out, gripping her arm before she could reach the call button.

“Bobby….” Jody didn’t want to be the one to say it.

“Do it.” He released her.

She glanced at his legs. “They damaged something in your back during the attack. It’s why you were in surgery. They tried to repair the damage.”

His eyes squeezed shut, his hands closing into fists. “Damn it! Not again!”

He didn’t want to talk after that and Jody didn’t blame him. She doubted he’d get a second miracle and walk again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby had considered wallowing in self-pity again, it’d certainly be easy to let himself do it, but with Jody needing a friend, Bobby discarded the idea as a whole and engaged in it only when she left the hospital room. He hadn’t told her the entire truth about the attack. Yes, they’d been church members at one point, but they’d also been demons. He’d seen enough of the videos from Castiel’s ‘death’ to recognize the assassins Crowley had sent.

What he wasn’t sure of was why they’d come after him. For fun maybe? Or perhaps to lessen his mobility so they could come back whenever they wanted? Crowley trying to soften him up for another deal? Whatever it was, he’d have to make plans, set up a trap for when they came around next.

He let Jody bully the hospital staff and when she argued that he needed someone to help him at home for awhile and it might as well be her, he’d agreed to let her. It wasn’t that he needed someone to look after him and help him. He’d done the whole wheelchair bound guy bit before by himself. The fact was, Jody needed it. He could see it on her face, that almost lost look in her eyes. She needed someone to look after and something to keep herself busy while she worked through her anger and frustration with being fired.

“Well,” he began, looking over the damage done to his house as she finished bringing in her things. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. His attackers had been interested mainly in maiming him, not tearing up the place. The door was the worst. “You can use any of the rooms upstairs you want. I’d recommend the bedroom Ellen was using only because I don’t know what shape Dean and Jo left the master in.”

“I’ll figure it out.” She carried her bag up the stairs and returned a few minutes later. “Where should I start,” she asked, glancing about the room.

“If you’re going to be here helping me, you should have a better idea what we come up against.” Reaching out, he picked up one book and held it out. “Happy reading, Jody.”

“You want me to study ghosts and beasties?” She took the book and glanced down at it. “Bobby. Shouldn’t I get to work on fixing your door?”

“I let my legs get me down once. It won’t happen again. I’m going to need you and that means you need to be prepared. Study up, sister. I got a favor or two I can still call in for manual labor.”

She tried to get him to take it easy, but Bobby couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on borrowed time and something even worse was going to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~

It actually managed to surprise Dean how fast the world went to hell. With Sam on a new drug, but standing, they’d set out to track Castiel. For forty days they followed strange weather patterns and reports of the PD’s, cleaned up messes, and came up against mindless, crazed hosts that had to be put down. The PD’s were all over the place and panic was now more widespread than it had been. In the last two weeks, government organizations began to descend on locations where the PD victims surfaced, quarantining entire towns. No one in, no one out.

The PD’s were scary, genuinely scary, and not just because of what they did to the host body. The things were intelligent and very much like hell demons. One cloud of gray mist seemed to differ from another cloud, again like hell demons. Those weren’t all the same either. He got the impression that the PD’s were testing what they could do, trying out their abilities like children learning new tasks. They were growing up and Dean certainly didn’t want to know what mature PD’s were capable of. But how did they fight them? All the had was silver and they knew that iron did make the mist disperse. He and Sam had tested that out a couple times.

Forty days. It was like some sort of record. The dominoes were beginning to fall, picking up speed.

Tornadoes spread across the Midwest and beyond, triggering an earthquake that hit California, where a chunk of the coastline slid into the ocean. The disasters and weird weather prompted bugs to come out of hibernation and swarm across the country. Lakes dried up only to reappear miles away, flooding whole towns. Religion scholars continued to talk Armageddon and the apocalypse, but since Dean knew the apocalypse had failed, he ignored those reports.

Sam didn’t. He tried to talk about them like it could be possible, only it wasn’t. The cage was closed, with Michael and Lucifer in it. As many locks as there’d been? No way either was getting out, not to mention Lilith was dead. The apocalypse ship had sailed.

Forty days though. He couldn’t believe how much had happened in that short time. Even Lucifer had taken more time than that to start in on the world. This was all in response to Castiel, though. He was causing it, whether directly or indirectly. Dean supposed they could actually start the countdown back when Castiel had declared himself God, since he’d begun throwing up things not too long after that. Looking at this from that perspective, it had taken months to get to this point, the better part of a year.

They managed to get right behind Castiel, close enough to see him. He no longer disappeared and reappeared miles away. Instead, he walked, a stumbling, half shuffling gate like a Romero zombie. He never stopped walking, nor did he appear to realize he was being followed. He seemed to be in his own little world of hurt.

They were watching him now, parked on the road as Castiel moved across a field. Occasionally he’d stop and puke up gray mist. It was as Jo had described, a whoosh of gray spilling from him, dribbles right now.

Dean’s heart constricted a little at the thought of her. Was she safe? Was she well? While they’d gotten the first message from them with their drop address, there’d been no more messages. Not that he’d expected more. He hadn’t. The next move was his. He dreamed of her at night and of their final hours together, wondering if there’d come a time when he and Sam could send them meeting coordinates. Maybe it wouldn’t be long now. Castiel couldn’t have too much more time left. He appeared half dead already.

Cas stumbled across the field like a drunk, finally falling and lying still. A minute passed, then another, Dean timing it with his watch. The longest they’d waited was five minutes before Castiel had gotten up and continued on. He got up now, nearly fell over, but kept to his feet at the last second. They could hear his pained moans from where they stood on the road. It seemed somehow fitting to Dean that Castiel was going to die right near where he’d raised Dean from hell.

Perhaps hell awaited Castiel.

He stumbled more, heading away from them and this time, they set off after him on foot, right to that area where Sam had once buried Dean. Trees still lay where they’d fallen and the area was oddly untouched, a monument to Dean’s raising. Castiel’s progress slowed until he was standing over the grave itself. The earth was churned up and Dean remembered every second of that agonizing, bewildered crawl from it. He’d been pulled from hell, reborn a new man.

The birds in the trees fell silent. The air felt charged with electricity.

Castiel jerked upright, arms flung out to his sides. With a final agonized cry, a large cloud of gray that seemed more solid than the rest passed from his lips. As it left, lightning struck the spot with a deafening roar, his body glowing for several seconds. White light flared up and died away. He fell backwards, stiff like a board.

They made their way to him.

Dean tried to decide where to start hacking him apart. He could hardly believe the time had come. He’d thought he’d feel some satisfaction in this and was surprised to find that he didn’t. What he felt was sadness. Never in a million years could he have guessed from their first meeting that they’d end up here, with the angel turned into a monster. Taking a step closer, he spread his legs and gripped the machete with both hands. No sense in dragging it out.

Sam’s hand on his arm stalled him. “Dean.”

Castiel gasped for breath, his eyes opening. The anguish and fear quickly displayed in those blue eyes didn’t seem to fit with the Cas they’d come to know in the past months. Both were almost…human. “Please don’t kill me,” he cried out, raising his hands like he could ward off any blow that was forthcoming.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t you former piece of angel crap.”

He stared up at Dean, still gasping. “Angel? I’m Jimmy. Jimmy Novak. Remember?”

Dear God, Dean thought, lowering the machete back down to his side. A chill swept through him. Jimmy’s still alive.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’d been tricked. The Winchesters had tricked Castiel and he’d fallen for it. He wasn’t even really that surprised by it, not in the state he was in. He should have been expecting it.

Ellen hadn’t gone towards Texas and once his emotions had risen up, he’d been unable to control the weather that had moved across the U.S., wreaking havoc from state to state. When he’d returned to Bobby Singer’s house a couple days later, emotions spent and body aching, he’d found an empty house. All were gone. They’d fled and he’d begun to make his way back to Illinois, to the place where he’d raised Dean from hell.

He was called there and he didn’t know why, unable to stop moving towards that spot, needing to be there. His legs continued to move though he’d long since ceased to be able to feel anything but the cramping pains in them. He moved despite the searing in his gut and the throbbing in his temples, leaving behind a rash of storms in his wake. His vision narrowed until all he could see was the end.

Dean Winchester’s former grave.

It was where he had to be.

He reached it and stood over the spot, panting and moaning.

Suddenly, the hand of God touched Castiel and, in an instant, he was fully humbled and shamed, his arrogance and self-serving actions exposed. His pride had been his downfall and he wept because he realized he was the Lucifer of his former class of angel. He was a fallen angel.

Questions slid through his mind, the voice booming. His ears rang from it, mind whirling.

Who are you? What were you created as? What have you done?

The questions needed no replies as his Father already knew the answers. They were merely prompts for him to look back at everything. He was reminded of everything, taken through it all in a single fraction of a second, from the first moment he’d been able to see, through raising Dean, and beyond.

He was Castiel, an angel, destined to assist Dean Winchester and be a champion for mankind among the angels. He’d hurt Dean and Sam both, let himself be manipulated by a demon, ripped apart natural order by raising Jo and Ellen Harvelle, and taken in souls that were never meant to be used as power. He’d refused the solution of putting them back in Purgatory and kept those souls, setting off a chain reaction that had led them all here. His body had changed those souls, created a new brand of demon.

Castiel was indeed much like Lucifer and he let out an anguished moan.

Judgment came upon him, worse than any physical pain he’d felt thus far. He felt a tearing inside him and was separated from everything he’d considered himself, then shoved back inside the human body by himself. Alone. He was alone. His powers were gone and so was the final remnant of Jimmy Novak that had been there. Only Castiel remained, stuck inside a human body, his connection to everything shredded. A void of nothingness settled inside him where his grace used to be and his shame made him tremble.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Sam and Dean standing over him. Dean’s gaze was as cold as ice. The moment of retribution was at hand for all the things Castiel had done and caused while under the influence of first human corrupted souls, then the monster souls from Purgatory.

No, not completely true. He knew the truth. It had been brought out of him seconds earlier.

A flush spread across his skin. He’d liked that feeling of power he’d never had before and had wanted more. What he’d had hadn’t been enough. He should have walked away and hadn’t. He’d chosen the path that had brought him here. Meg was right. He’d made this bed for himself. It was his decisions and no one else’s. He’d been the catalyst for much that was wrong now.

But he wasn’t ready to die for his crimes, despite fully deserving death. He had to atone for his sins and somehow make up for everything. If he even could. Perhaps he was doomed to spend the rest of his life trying to clean up his mess.

He compounded previous lies with a fresh one, not daring to hope that it’d work. If it did, perhaps someday, somehow, he could tell them the truth and face Death with dignity. Today however…. Today he was a coward and he accepted his own cowardice.

Castiel forced himself to speak in a higher voice and mimic Jimmy Novak’s speech patterns. His answer to Dean brought surprise and disappointment to Dean’s eyes. Castiel hated that Dean was disappointed he didn’t get to kill him.

“Where’s Castiel then,” Dean demanded.

He slowly sat up, rubbing a hand to his chest. There was a foul taste in his mouth, like he’d been drinking raw sewage and he was again reminded that to Dean, he was a monster that needed to be killed. “I can feel him in here, but he’s weak. Powerless.” It was the truth. He was weak and powerless. Castiel stared up at Dean. He wasn’t a good liar and never had been. It was only when he’d taken those souls from Crowley that his skills in that area had increased. Dean was going to see through this. “He’s no longer a threat.”

“And you’re still here.”

“Yes.” He realized he was crying, his face wet with tears. “I’m…I’m here.” He cried for what he’d been and all he’d become and he cried because he needed the very people he’d shoved away in his hubris. A deep discomfort in the vulnerability of his position began to rise up. He needed them and they sure as hell didn’t need him.

I’m human, he thought. I’m really human now.

“Prove you’re Jimmy,” Sam said, crouching down beside him. The words were slightly slurred and Castiel wondered why.

How did he prove that? “My…my wife is Amelia, daughter Claire.” He let a sob escape. “I’ve got to find them!” Castiel added as much panic and fear to his voice as he could. “Do you think they’re okay?”

Apparently, it was enough to satisfy them both. “We’ll see what we can do, right Dean?”

“Sure.”

It was Sam who helped Castiel to his feet. “Sorry, Jimmy.”

He shrugged. “None of this was your fault.” It was true. None of it was Sam’s fault. It had been Castiel’s jealousy of Sam and Castiel’s own actions this entire time. Castiel was the one who’d broken the world and everything in it and Castiel was the one who had to figure out how to atone for his sins and clean up his mess.

“Come on then,” Dean waved him forward. “We need to call Bobby, then….” He broke off and Sam nodded.

“Jo and Ellen.” Sam reached out a hand and steadied Castiel.

“Yeah.”

He caught Dean staring at him with narrowed eyes and took off his coat as an excuse not to look at him. “Who are they?” He was going to have to be careful, to remember what Jimmy had and hadn’t known.

“Friends,” Dean replied.

“Oh.”

He sat in the backseat of the Impala, staring out the window at the world he’d created. A verse from the Bible played again and again in his mind. Proverbs 15:10. Whoever abandons the right path will be severely punished; whoever hates correction will die.

He had abandoned and was punished. Someplace inside him must have a tiny bit of obedience to God left, for he hadn’t been killed in punishment.

But was his punishment far worse than the death he deserved?

Slowly, Castiel closed his eyes. He had no tears left to cry. Only guilt remained.

~~~~~~~~~~

A mob surrounded Bobby Singer’s, a crowd of the more militant and brainwashed of Castiel’s local congregation. It was a sad fact that such an occurrence was starting to be normal in the world. Jody wasn’t sure if it was because the Church of Castiel attracted nutcases who were easily influenced by others or turned people into nutcases. Could be either or both.

The windows began to break and Bobby gestured at the basement. “Will you get your ass down there, Jody?”

“Not without you,” she replied. It was an argument that had been going on for the last five minutes.

“You can’t get me down there before they get in, now go,” he hissed. “I’ll be fine.”

Dean had called earlier, delivering the news of Castiel’s weird punishment. Something in that story Jimmy had given Dean and Sam hadn’t sounded right to Bobby and he’d been trying to figure out what was off, discussing it with her when the mob had arrived, baying for blood. Sam and Dean would be here in a few hours, but they were going to be too late to stop the mob trying to get in to lynch them both.

At first, Jody had come to take care of him and try to make his life easier, but when she’d become wanted by the Church and by Constance for refusing to convert she’d stayed here rather than return home. Bobby was also wanted. Jody wasn’t sure why it was so important to them that everyone in whole world be converted to the CoC. A few times, Bobby had run off trespassers with a shotgun. Those people were back now, with reinforcements. She was surprised they weren’t carrying torches, like something out of an old movie.

“You won’t be fine. They’re going to kill you if they get in. It’s mob mentality. You know that. Don’t be a stubborn bastard, Bobby! I can get you down there,” she told him, “just help me!”

“Damn it, Jody, get in the panic room, lock that door, and wait until Sam and Dean get here.”

The front door began to splinter.

“Go,” he urged. “Don’t make me push you.”

Against her wishes, Jody fled, leaving him there, guns pointed at the door. Hiding went against her own instincts. She locked herself in the panic room and sat with her back against the door and hands over her ears. There were gunshots, plenty of them, and screams. She heard sounds of the house being trashed and waited, sure they’d come banging on the door.

They didn’t. She heard doors slamming and then silence, but she didn’t move until she heard Sam and Dean upstairs, their voices loud in the quiet of the house. Jody opened the panic room door and went up the steps. They had their guns pointed at the doorway when she emerged, quickly lowering them.

“Sheriff,” Dean started. “What happened here? What happened to Bobby? This is fresh.”

Jody shrugged. “What hasn’t happed the past couple months?” She took a few steps forward towards them. She saw Jimmy standing back by Bobby’s body. Bobby was still in the wheelchair, slumped over, body limp. Blood stiffened his shirt and his eyes were open and staring. A lump grew in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard past it. He’d been grilling her on the ways to kill various monsters just that morning, like he’d had to get as much information into her head as possible.

“Talk to us, Sheriff.”

“I’m not Sheriff anymore, Dean. Haven’t been for awhile. It’s just Jody now.” Going to the table, she pulled out a chair and sat. She explained what had happened since they’d left, from the first attack on Bobby that had put him in the hospital to the mob. “I can’t go back home,” Jody added. “There’s nothing for me here anymore. Between the church and those demon things out there….” She sighed. “I’m at a loss for what to do here.”

“None of us can go back,” Jimmy said, a strange, mournful gleam in his eyes. “I’m very sorry, Jody.” Reaching out, he closed Bobby’s eyes.

She looked away. “He saved me, you know. Grouch he was, he saved me, but I couldn’t get him to come down with me. He claimed I couldn’t carry him. Wouldn’t even let me try.”

They gave Bobby a solemn hunter’s funeral, added as many supplies as they could into two cars and left. Sam and Dean in one car and Jody and Jimmy in the other. Jody followed Dean. She wondered if he had any idea where they were going to go. The Church of Castiel was everywhere, Purgatory demons were creeping out all over the place, and the balance of the world appeared to be completely blown away.

Where could they even go that might possibly be safe with the entire world fast falling apart?

~~~~~~~~~~

Something wasn’t right. Dean could feel it.

It wasn’t just losing Bobby that felt wrong, it was…. Honestly, it was Jimmy that felt wrong.

He peered out the motel room window at Jody as she went to her car. She was heading across to the Wal-Mart to get Jimmy some clean clothes and a few food items for all of them. How had Jimmy survived everything that had happened? Dean had thought Jimmy had been released a long time ago and that whole thing about Castiel powerless inside him wasn’t sitting right with him. Had Castiel been condemned to be stuck inside Jimmy until Jimmy died? It didn’t make sense to him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Sighing, he let the curtain drop and turned back to the room.

A wave of grief for Bobby welled up and he shoved it back. He couldn’t indulge in a wailing and gnashing of teeth, not until he had everyone together again. He’d hold it in until Jo and Ellen were there with them again and they could all mourn properly together. Some part of him recognized that this was his coping method and way of grieving, but he let that realization slip away and focused on Sam.

Sam was stretched out on one bed staring at the tv. He didn’t appear to actually be watching the program.

Dean winced and reached for his phone, dialing a number he now knew by heart. “His speech is slurred,” he said when the doctor answered. “Is that supposed to happen?” He listened a moment. “What about how sleepy he is? He spends half the time staring into space. He can’t drive, that’s for sure. Can hardly do anything.” The answer made him snort. “Well, I think it’s a sucky side effect. Can’t we, I don’t know, try a smaller dosage or something?”

With a languid movement, Sam raised his hand and changed channels.

“No, no hallucinations that he’s said. No trouble sleeping or eating. So far.” The search to find a medication that would help Sam was leaving him with a brother who was barely his brother at all anymore. Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, we can do that. Half dose. Okay. Thanks. I’ll let you know.” He hung up and continued to watch Sam as time passed.

His reaction times were bad, so bad that he was useless on regular hunts and Dean knew it was because of the pills. But the flip side of that coin was that the hallucinations were also bad. If it wasn’t one thing messing them up, it was another. Which side should they choose and where was the middle ground? Was it even worth it?

There was a knock on the door and he looked through the peephole to see Jody and Jimmy standing there. He opened the door. Jimmy was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket, his hair damp. Both were carrying bags.

Jody was in the middle of talking. “--call in a favor or two and find them. I may not be Sheriff anymore, but I do still know people.”

“They probably changed names,” Jimmy said, not looking at Dean.

“You can’t give up without trying, Jimmy. It’s your wife and daughter.”

Dean stepped back so they could come in. Jody came in first, then Jimmy. He still didn’t look at Dean. “We’ll try, Jody. He’s just a little discouraged right now.”

“Understandable, but we need to move on this. He’s free, sort of, and he can be back with them.”

Sam snorted. “We’re never free. He knows that. Once you’re in, you’re in for life.”

The words were very true. None of them would ever be free.

~~~~~~~~~~

With Castiel missing, Meg gave up being Margaret, left that host, and jumped into Constance. He’d been in such a bad way, she wondered if Dean and Sam had killed him. She decided there was a sure fire way to find out.

She’d use the church to find Ellen and Jo, which would have the Winchester boys running to save them and end with Castiel coming to save Dean. She was certain it’d work, and if it didn’t, she’d simply get rid of them all and continue the search for Castiel.

She carefully locked herself into Constance, much like she once had Sam, left the body of her former host under lock and key, and headed down into the sanctuary to give the televised sermon for the week. It’d be shown in numerous countries, assuring the widest possible audience for the message she had to give them.

“My dear, dear, friends,” she began, using Constance’s favorite way to address the church. “I’ve an important message to give you today. It’s one that has my heart a little heavy, yet hopeful for us all. Castiel has stepped back from us.”

There were gasps among the crowd and she held up a hand.

“No, we felt it might be coming since the most grievous attack on him a couple months ago here in our very own church. He feels he must observe us, decide if we’re worthy of his further attentions. I’ve spoken with him and he’s broken about it, friends. The lack of faith in us even now after he died and resurrected pains him.”

Sobs reached her.

“He’s given us tasks to perform, however, tasks that will show our devotion to him and the measure of our perseverance and love.” She nodded and gestured to the screen at her left, where two pictures appeared. “These two women were seen with him earlier this year. Many of you don’t remember them. Some do. He told me that these two women need an outpouring of our love. He wants us to bring them into the church, to bring them here to Sioux Falls and care for them.” Meg strolled across the stage and stopped at stage right. “I know, can’t he just do it himself?” She shrugged. “He could. He could snap his fingers and they’d be here with us, sharing in our glorious time of worship. But this is our test. They are our mission, friends.” She returned to the podium. “We are to find them, show them the fullest degree of our love.”

The sobs had ceased and she knew she had their attention. So many people easily swayed!

“It won’t be easy. They’re hidden. This task isn’t going to be quick. How would that test our perseverance? It also won’t be easy. They’ll be resistant to coming with any of us, refusing of our affection, and even downright hostile. They’ll fight to remain hidden, but he wants them with us. This is a great task indeed. We’ve been given a commission here. Let’s perform it well and, perhaps he’ll change his mind and be with us again. Let’s show our love to these women. Their names are Jo and Ellen Harvelle.”

They broke for five songs, hymns that had been reworked using Castiel’s name and Meg gathered her thoughts on the next matter at hand. This was the far more serious one, the one she needed them in full cooperation on. With such a huge congregation, it wouldn’t matter if she lost a number of them going about this task.

“Our second task is one that is of grave importance. It cannot be entered into with any humor.” She waited while the background music changed and lifted her chin. “There are demons among us, friends, and I don’t speak of mystical things. I speak of the very real demons slipping from hell to walk among us.”

Gasps and murmurs rose up in the audience.

“Yes, demons. You heard me right. It seems impossible, I know, but they’re real and they’re here to hurt us, hunt us, and kill us. They can take over anyone. Family, friends, colleagues. They’re a real danger and it’s up to us to do something about them.” She couldn’t wait to see how long before Crowley realized she was a danger to him once more. How long before he got worried and came crawling to make a deal? “Other churches have been lax, letting their numbers on this earth grow until we’re in a crisis situation. I…we, as the church, need volunteers for very specialized training into dealing with the threat. We’re heading into war, friends. Castiel needs you. There will be a link on the website for those interested and, of course, our phone lines are always open.”

She went on, slipping into the sermon Constance had planned and when she returned to the office, she was pleased with how it had gone, so pleased that she didn’t notice her former host was no longer sprawled on the floor until the girl was gripping her throat and shoving her against the wall.

“Where is he,” came a guttural voice that sounded like it came from the girl’s belly and not her throat.

She was changed, but not as terribly as others had been. Her skin had paled and the veins did stand out slightly, but not like pictures Meg had seen. This thing in her had not made the girl into as much of a monster as others. She was almost still human. How? Was this one different from the rest? It stood to reason that not all of them were the same because not all demons were the same. Meg pried at the fingers on her throat until the grip lessened. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Liar. You said you’ve talked to him.”

“I haven’t. He disappeared.”

The creature dropped her and stepped back. “We want him back.”

“Back.” What did it mean ‘back’?

“Our father. Castiel. We want him back.”

Interesting. They called him father the way demons called Lucifer father. “Why?”

It paced slowly in front of her. “He pulled us forth, changed us, released us, and left us. Some of us he killed, but he left us without giving us a purpose. We, as a whole, ache to be back with him. We’re not what we remember ourselves to be. We can’t be what we were and we were wrong to flee from him. We need him to be one with us again and give us direction.”

Meg almost smiled. It was lying to her, giving her a story and trying to manipulate her. Whatever it wanted Castiel for, it wasn’t because they needed him. They may want him, but they didn’t need him. Still….

A fresh plan swirled through her mind. The world could be really hers. Her plan before had been to return every demon but herself to hell, making her the ruler of earth and seriously putting a dent in Crowley’s work, but now she had a different plan forming. With these creatures on her side, she could eventually storm hell and rule there as well. She’d mobilize them as her own private army, the army Crowley denied her. A demon was a demon was a demon, right?

With them backing her, she’d be able to wage an actual war. How sweet it would be to topple him from power! She’d have quite the kingdom if she promised to help these creatures. Earth and hell both. Besides, if her plan worked, Ellen and Jo would lead to Sam and Dean who would lead to Castiel anyway. “I have a proposition for you, one that could be very advantageous for us both. I can help you.”

“Why should I believe you’ll help? I can see you’re a demon. I remember demons.”

“As are you now. Hate to break it to you, darling, but you’re a demon, too. Look in the mirror. Purgatory demon. We’re cousins of a sort. Purgatory is the monster’s hell and a stones throw from human hell. Besides, family should mean something. Don’t you agree…cousin?” She’d spend their time together working out their vulnerabilities and when she was done with them, she’d let it slip to the world how to destroy them. Perhaps when hell was hers again and she had her real subjects once more, she’d send her demons after them. It was risky, but she was willing to work with it.

The creature cocked it’s head. “I’m listening.”

“Are you familiar with the term ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Meg smiled. “Let’s deal.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Hundreds of miles away, Jo Harvelle sat on one motel room bed, her arms about her raised knees and cheek resting against them. She rocked a little, ignoring the television program playing.

The last night she’d shared with Dean was heavy on her mind the past couple weeks. She recalled their reckless behavior and how frantic they’d been to make memories to hold onto. Both of them had shrugged off the condom breaking and carried on with their plans. They’d ignored the real possibility of future consequences.

Jo had been naïve in thinking it could never happen to her. Naïve, stupid, silly. She’d been calling herself those words as fear clenched her gut and she prayed daily for what she knew wasn’t coming. She was later than late and it was time to admit it.

The door opened, Ellen stepping inside. She was carrying a large paper sack bearing the logo of the chain family restaurant down the street. Jo smelled chicken as Ellen set the sack down on the table in the corner.

“No mail. I keep expecting something. Surely Cas couldn’t have lasted more than a couple weeks in the shape he was in?”

Jo didn’t answer. She’d assumed that as well, but here they were, a month and a half after leaving Bobby’s house with no word of any kind. It had taken Jo a week to reach Ellen, during which time Ellen had set up a PO Box and sent word to the box number Dean had given them.

Ellen unpacked the food.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Mom?”

“Yeah, Jo?”

“I think….” She touched her stomach.

Ellen paused in setting one plastic container down. “Spit it out, sweetie.”

“I think I’m pregnant.” The words were easier to say than she’d thought they’d be.

Her head turned and she stared at Jo, her attention slowly lowering to Jo’s stomach. Her lips parted and she drew in a sharp breath before returning to her task.

“Mom?” Jo got up from the bed. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say,” she said, carefully folding the sack and laying it aside. “What’s done is done. I know you wouldn’t have said anything unless you were sure, but we’ll get you a test tomorrow, then send a message to the boys to contact us as soon as possible.”

“If they haven’t killed him yet, it could be weeks. Months.”

“Then we’ll keep trying until they call or we find them. Now,” she sat, “come eat. If you are pregnant, you need to keep yourself and that baby in good health.”

She pulled out a chair across from Ellen and sat. “We tried to be careful.”

Ellen kept her attention on her plate as she cut her chicken into tiny pieces. “Careful doesn’t always work.”

They ate in silence, cleaned up in silence, and Jo was getting ready for bed when Ellen spoke again, five simple words.

“It will be okay, Jo.”

When Ellen went in to take a shower, Jo took Dean’s picture out. She touched it, whispered she loved him, and put it away in a safe place. It was a ritual she’d continue every night before she went to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen stayed awake late into the night, long after Jo had fallen asleep. She cried silent tears for Jo and Dean both. She had a terrible feeling that this world emerging from what Castiel had shaped wasn’t the place for a baby. Had he increased Jo’s fertility after Ellen had told him not to? She wouldn’t put it past him to have done that, thinking he was doing something good. Jo’s life had gotten a million times harder and the only thing Ellen could do was try to protect her and the child until they found Dean again.

She bit her knuckle to keep from sobbing and made mental plans. There was still money available. Castiel had reinstated the accounts months ago and she’d used very little of it. They’d ration it like planned only with allowances for the baby. Hopefully, they’d get meet-up coordinates or a call soon.

Slowly, Ellen composed herself. Jo wouldn’t see her cry. Long ago, she’d determined that, no matter what was happening, Jo would never know just how scared Ellen was. She’d learned to cry when alone and muffle her sobs in order to be strong for Jo’s benefit. She’d do that again. Her daughter needed her to be strong.

Wiping her eyes, she went to bed.

In the morning, she’d get a pregnancy test for Jo before breakfast and if it was positive, Ellen would get her a doctor by afternoon. They’d send that message to Dean and maybe, like she’d told Jo, it would be okay.

Sleep claimed her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer stood over Sam while he slept. While he was little more than a ghost in this world, one that only Sam (and the occasional meddling psychic) could see, he did have access to look around, which was far more than he’d had his last stint in the cage.

What was real? Sam had debated that topic with himself over and over, attempting to discover if Lucifer was real or a hallucination. Each time he’d come close to the truth, Lucifer had allowed him to feel safe. He’d let the various pills work, lulling Sam, convincing him that there was no real danger and he was simply a figment of Sam’s mind, a tiny fragment of himself wandering around.

Lucifer toyed with him since Michael wouldn’t let him play with Adam. He enjoyed toying with Sam, making him think he was far crazier than he was.

He smiled to himself. He’d even managed to convince Sam that Michael had joined in on torturing him. Michael hadn’t, a serious stick in the mud. He could have taken his anger at Dean out on Sam and had refused, claiming now that he had no beef with Sam because Sam had been obedient. That was Michael’s criteria for lenience. Obedience. He said obeying was better than sacrifice and Sam had both obeyed and sacrificed.

Slowly, he sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about how he could be here in this ghost-like state. His connection into Sam was through his soul, a tiny little loophole in the whole deal. He could still be freed from the cage if Sam could be convinced to open their connection completely and let him back in. Sam’s soul was the back door to the cage.

He chuckled. Funny that Castiel, a former angel, hadn’t understood the danger, though he had been busy the past months. Perhaps he’d assumed the cage would sever that connection between angel and vessel once that connection was opened. It was a reasonable assumption considering the cage was a prison. Lucifer had assumed himself until one of his whispers had caused a reaction.

Death had tried to keep their connection under wraps behind that wall, but there Castiel had come, all arrogant and determined, blowing the wall down and opening up a way for Lucifer to whisper all he wanted into Sam’s mind. He’d have to thank Castiel for that when he got out.

Oh, the fun Lucifer had had on understanding that he could reach Sam; that while he was physically stuck in the cage again, he could project out to Sam and manipulate him. Good times.

His smile faded.

He was biding his time now. What was a few more months? Soon, the world and Sam would be ready and he’d ditch his prison for good. Let them try to put him back this time. The keys were gone, there was no one left in heaven to care, and Sam didn’t know how to close the connection between them into the cage when Lucifer didn’t want it severed. An angel could sever that connection, but a human couldn’t under normal circumstances. For Sam however, these weren’t normal circumstances. There was a way, a rather simple one really, but he was confident Sam would never think of it.

The ball was all in Sam’s court and Lucifer planned to do everything possible to make him do exactly what Lucifer wanted. Sam was going to reintegrate him. They’d been one once before and would again.

Soon, it’d be 2014 and the end could begin -- for real this time. Lucifer would rise once more and this time, he wouldn’t be defeated. He’d use the Purgatory demons Castiel had let out to purge humanity from the earth, then eliminate them as well.

It would be…perfection.

He let himself fade back down into the cage, where he dared Michael to try and stop him. What could Michael possibly do when Lucifer was the one with the connection to Sam?

Chapter 22: Part Two

Several months later:

His curtains were open.

Sam didn’t remember opening them. Had he gotten up earlier and opened them before returning to bed? It was a possibility, but he just didn’t remember. Blinking away sleep, he noticed Chuck over by his beat up small dresser. He was looking through the folded shirts on the top of it that Sam hadn’t put away yet. “Chuck,” he whispered in question.

Chuck looked over his shoulder. “Hi, Sam. It’s going to be a good day.” One shirt was drawn from the stack and tossed towards the jeans Sam had left across the chair. “It’s time to begin preparing.”

“For what?”

“You know for what.”

Sitting up, he reached for his daily pill holder. He had one that was for two weeks and at the end of that cycle, he refilled each day. Opening the Wednesday cup, he took out the pill and swallowed it with a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table. He didn’t bother asking Chuck to clarify, as Chuck never would. “Okay. We’ll pretend I do know.”

Chuck took a step closer. “Take the flask from Dean today. He should be sober.”

“Why?” Dean’s drinking had gotten worse as the weeks had gone by, though it wasn’t yet to the point of needing some sort of intervention. Maybe by normal standards it was, but by hunter standards he wasn’t in the danger zone yet.

In a blink, Chuck had gone and Sam heard Dean at his door.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke a little after dawn. He didn’t sleep much anymore and when he did, he either had nightmares that left him sweating and shaking or he dreamed of Jo and their last night together. He preferred the latter, yet usually got the former.

Tossing off the covers, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His room was chilly, but he didn’t get back in bed. He needed to be out and about. The people here needed him.

Half an hour later, he was showered, dressed, and drinking a cup of bitter coffee, listening for sounds of Sam stirring in the other small bedroom. The cabin they’d taken was once a counselor cabin with a living area, kitchenette, bathroom and two bedrooms. It looked much like some of the motels they’d stayed in save it had the two bedrooms instead of one.

He glanced at his watch, then went to Sam’s door and rapped his knuckles on it. “Rise and shine, Sammy. Take your pill.”

There was a faint groan, the sound of stumbling steps, and the door jerked open. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Actually it’s morning. Did you take it?”

Sam blinked, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “I’m not two, Dean. I can remember to take my own damn pills.”

“Sure. Did you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Count them if you want,” he opened the door wider.

He was tempted, but shook his head. “Pass. Heading to breakfast.”

“I’ll be down in a bit.”

They could easily eat in their own cabin and had the supplies for just that, but Dean usually ate breakfast and either lunch or dinner in the dining hall. Jody had pointed out that it was good for the people they had here to see all of them and have a chance to chat. It made people feel like they were still back at their normal lives in a way.

Dean pulled on his jacket and stepped outside. The morning was slightly foggy and definitely cold. He jammed his hands into his pockets and started up the path, thinking about his relationship with Sam.

They were stuck in a holding pattern right now, he could see it. At the point they were at, Sam wasn’t going to get any better or worse. He was simply there, sometimes fairly alert and other times little more than catatonic, staring into space and extremely slow to respond. Dean hated to see him like that and missed how they’d once been.

His first stop was the communications center. The name was more impressive than the actual small cabin. It had a C.B. radio, chargers for various cell phones, their stash of walkie-talkies, a computer, and a TV. A staff of three tried to keep things up and running as much as possible. Some days that was an uphill task.

Jody was there, the television on and tuned to one of the news networks. They liked to keep on top of developments that could affect them all.

“You’re up early,” he commented, standing behind her to read the scroll of news at the bottom of the screen. Roadblocks were being erected at the Canadian border, one island off the coast of a state he didn’t catch was abandoned due to Purgatory demon activity, the Church of Castiel had acquired a large tract of land in Texas, and the President was meeting with foreign dignitaries to develop a strategy for dealing with the PD crisis. All normal news. The world was trying to pretend nothing was wrong when everything was completely wrong.

“Couldn’t sleep. Why’re you up? You didn’t leave here until late.”

“Same. Anything new?” He’d been doing searches on the internet when they had the capability. Sometimes it was available, sometimes it wasn’t. Internet was spotty these days. He’d Googled Ellen and Jo, searching for information and only found the usual bits of nothing.

She looked up and back at him. “Like what?”

“You know what. Have they got them?”

With a shake of her head, she leaned back in the chair. “No, or if they do, they’re not reporting it. Still running a reminder to look for them at the top of the hour.”

Months earlier, the CoC had decided Jo and Ellen had to be found. They claimed the order was from Castiel, but as Castiel had been stuck in Jimmy when that particular announcement had been made, Dean didn’t believe it. He wondered if it was Meg’s influence over Connie or if Connie had realized she was free to act with Cas not around. It could be considered either a good or bad sign that they still ran notices all the time. He hoped it was the former.

He nodded. “Keep me informed.”

“I always do.” Having Jody with them had been a God-send. She’d been very good at knowing what they needed to do and when and in organizing them all. She even mothered them now and then, putting her foot down on some things and quietly encouraging them in others. Though Bobby’s training of her had been interrupted, he’d managed to impart a good chunk of knowledge and her police training had helped them on more than one occasion.

Dean left the building, his mind going back to Ellen and Jo.

After deciding where to go, Dean had sent a message to the box number they’d received for them and waited two weeks at Rufus’s cabin, weeks where he’d realized they couldn’t all stay in such a small space without killing each other. They’d spent the time waiting scouring maps of the area and researching possible locations that would fit their needs while anticipating future needs. Bobby’s house was out of the question as it was too close to CoC headquarters.

Sam had brought their attention to a parcel of land deep in the woods beside a lake. On Bing maps, it looked like there was a town at the lakeside, though no town was listed. The nearest towns were both small and miles away. The place was isolated. Upon closer inspection, the town was actually an old summer camp that had been abandoned due to foreclosure. Jimmy and Jody had gone to investigate, calling back to say it was perfect for their needs and they’d begin settling in and making lists of what needed fixed to make it habitable. Whatever the cause of the abandonment of Camp Wilderness, in the end it was their gain. No one had the slightest interest in the place and those two nearest towns were empty as well, both heavily hit by what they thought had been a tornado. Dean had wondered if the bank that owned it was one of the banks in those towns.

He and Sam had left a message in the cabin for Ellen and Jo in case they were already on their way. In case they weren’t, and had sent Dean and Sam a message, they’d headed to their own box. Unfortunately, quarantine and a heavy military presence kept them from checking it. They’d backtracked, picked a closer town, opened a new box, and sent all of the information to Jo and Ellen’s box number.

The lack of returning messages or of them at all hurt, but he understood caution if the CoC was the reason for their continuing blackout. Dean hoped they were well, hoped that they were kicking butt somewhere, though it’d be hard to do much of anything when people everywhere knew what they looked like. He even prayed for their safety, refusing to acknowledge that what he was doing was prayer.

How had they evaded capture? Especially for this long? He liked to think they had allies, friends they’d hooked back up with who were hiding them and taking care of them.

Yet with each day, week, and month that passed, Dean grew pessimistic about the chance of finding them. The time passing was too great and he knew the odds were against them. Jo was being lost even further with each moment and he regretted that decision they’d made to part ways. It had seemed like the best idea at the time and he now thought it had been the worst idea.

He still reached for her at night and knew he was in mourning for what they’d begun to have together. He kept her picture by the bedside and continued to wear the wedding band, though they’d never actually been married. Occasionally, he woke from dreams of her to find he was clutching a pillow to his chest.

Dean threw himself into work. Whipping Camp Wilderness into shape took up a large amount of his time when he wasn’t out on nearby jobs rescuing people from PD’s and other creatures. They were making progress in turning this place into somewhere livable. Generators helped and he thought they probably should make a run for a few more in the near future. There were still areas of the camp that needed power.

They’d started by cleaning out the cabins that were in decent repair and getting them turned into living quarters and were slowly moving to other areas as they gained people. They’d been looting the towns close by and further out for whatever they could get, ignoring the ‘quarantined area’ signs while being on the lookout for people, PD victims, PD’s themselves, or other creatures. Anything could happen on those trips and he’d felt an almost uncontrollable urge to make this camp a well-equipped mini-town, almost like he was racing against time to make it that way.

There was no deadline that he could tell, yet Dean still worked in feverish bursts of energy to stock and outfit the camp. It wasn’t something he could begin to explain. Jody called it a coping method. Sam called it burying his issues and Jimmy called it good sense in their decaying world.

However, Camp Wilderness, while as good a fit as Jody and Jimmy had proclaimed, had one big drawback for Dean. It was far too much like the Camp Chitaqua from the vision Zachariah had given him. Out of curiosity once, he’d done a search for such a camp and hadn’t found one. Zachariah had probably conjured it up just for him. This place could have been the template however. It had the setting, the basic layout, and even the big sign. Dean sometimes had a sharp sense of déjà vu while walking across the camp.

But it wasn’t Chitaqua. He held on to that thought. Chitaqua didn’t exist.

He entered the dining hall. It was the cleanest of the buildings, the one Jody had immediately put to rights. The air smelled of cooking odors and good coffee. He went to the kitchen door and peered in. “Grub ready?”

The cooks for the day glanced over at him. Randy, the one in charge, shrugged. “Oatmeal is done, coffee is ready, and we’ve got an egg casserole coming out in a few minutes.”

Dean got a fresh cup of coffee and waited. People began trickling in, all greeting him and none moving to join him. That was fine with him. He preferred it that way. When the food line was completely set up, he got a plate and began to eat. He suspected it was going to be a long day.

Sam and Jimmy came in together, the same way they did nearly every morning. They got trays of food and sat down with him.

He had a strange relationship with Jimmy. Sometimes, he’d swear it was Castiel looking at him and talking to him and other times, he knew it had to be Jimmy. He still wasn’t sure exactly what about Jimmy felt off to him and had for months. Maybe it was just that Jimmy was alive at all. Or maybe it was Jimmy’s behavior. The drinking, the flirtation with drugs, and the occasional woman Dean saw coming out of his small cabin.

Dean understood all three, but from Jimmy? Married, devout Jimmy? He supposed them not finding his wife and daughter could have broken something inside him. Jimmy wouldn’t be the first man to head down that path, nor would he be the last. His behavior was uncomfortably similar to future Castiel and Dean was having far too many flashbacks to Chitaqua these days. Usually, he’d seek out Sam’s company for awhile just to reassure himself it couldn’t happen. Chitaqua didn’t exist. It couldn’t. It had never been real to begin with and he was nowhere near that version of himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Morning was the worst time of day. It reminded Castiel that he’d survived another day and had to begin a new one.

Staring up at the ceiling, he ignored the young woman trying to rouse him for some morning playtime. She was lovely enough and persuasive enough usually, but he simply wasn’t in the mood for human activity.

He placed a hand on Mindy’s back. She turned her face to him. “Leave.”

Disappointment was etched on her face, but she got up from the bed without question. She was used to his moods, dressing in the previous night’s clothes and leaving. Once she were gone, he rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow and screaming into it.

Falling once had been hard, though bearable in the end because of what had been accomplished. The apocalypse had been thwarted.

Falling twice….

There was no coming back from this one, no last minute reprieve from the yoke of humanity. He’d been royally spanked and punished by the God he’d tried to replace, a God who wasn’t as absent or indifferent as he’d assumed. Perhaps he should feel lucky he hadn’t been dropped in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. Instead, he’d been sentenced to humanity, to live with the consequences of all he’d done. He had to see Sam every day and know that it was because of him Sam was in the state he was. He had to see Dean trying to save the world and wonder while he did if one of the PD changed people they killed would be Jo. He had to watch Dean mourn her again.

If he could, he’d forget his attempted foray into godhood.

Getting up, he contemplated slitting his wrists and quickly discarded the idea. Someone always came along and saved him, as though he wasn’t allowed to end his pain and the terrible guilt that held him in a tight embrace. The knowledge that he’d have to tell Dean the truth some day hung over him, the weight of his actions sending him constantly spiraling down into bouts of depression.

In those deep states, he drank, took pills, and he even let a couple of those pretty young women who hung around him seduce him. At least someone cared about him. It was nice to have them express concern and to have someone hold him. The experience of sexual activity had been surprisingly different than what he’d thought it would be like. Each experience was different and yet the same all at once. There was a sort of comfort in the act and he thought he understood now why humans engaged in such activity.

There was no escaping what he’d become and he was exhausted, the play at being both himself and Jimmy never ending, though he was careful to be Jimmy as much as possible, enjoying the camaraderie that had developed over weeks. Dean had relaxed around him after a couple months and had begun talking to him again, the sort of talks they’d once had.

The search they’d done for Amelia and Claire had led to nothing. If the two were in hiding, they’d hidden well. If they were dead there was no sign. In a way, he was glad they hadn’t been found, for Amelia certainly would have realized he wasn’t her husband.

He ran the full gamut of human emotion and suffered the occasional physical consequences from his actions. He had scars now, marks of humanity upon his body. In some moments, he was almost able to convince himself that he was Jimmy and Castiel had never existed at all. He made a half life for himself.

Washing from a basin of cold water, he got dressed in wrinkled clothes and contemplated who he should be today: Castiel or Jimmy. It was safer to be Jimmy, though much more difficult. At least Dean didn’t beat Jimmy to a pulp and take out all his anger on him. It had taken three men to pull Dean off of him one night when he’d let himself slip and tried to apologize for everything he’d done. He’d laid there and let Dean beat him, accepting it as his due, as what had to happen.

Jody had tried to talk to him about how he hadn’t even tried to defend himself, but he’d shut her down before she could say much of anything.

There was a knock at his doorway and he moved towards it. Sam stood there. He was medicated already, indicated by the hunching of his shoulders and the calm coolness to his gaze. The current medication he was on dulled all of Sam’s emotions along with dampening all of his hallucinations to things he could ignore. This was the difference Castiel had noticed the day he’d lost everything, the reason for Sam’s slurred speech and slower way of moving.

“Good morning, Sam.”

“Yeah. You had breakfast yet, Jimmy?”

“Just heading out.”

They walked together. Sam’s steps were shuffling and Castiel winced. This medication sucked the life out of Sam, leaving him a bare shell of who he was. “Is Dean awake,” he asked, guilt clawing up his back to sit on his shoulders. Guilt was a constant companion.

“He’s already in the mess.”

Camp Wilderness had been quite the find. It had been abandoned, but with the assistance of a few survivors of attacks, they’d begun to make it something of a refugee camp for those that couldn’t get help anywhere else, the ones the church and government turned their backs on. The people they saved came here. No longer did they leave people out in the world, not with the PD’s running loose, the government losing control, and the CoC taking over. Dean hadn’t wanted to at first, relenting when Sam and Jody had both pointed out that many of the people they’d helped had nowhere left to go, their experiences taking normal away from them forever. Attacked by vampires and survived? They came here. Attacked by other creatures, problems with ghosts and everything else? They came here. If they wanted. Most lately did, glad to have some place they could call safe.

Once at the dining hall, they got plates of food and sat at one table with Dean. As Castiel ate, he studied him.

Dean had little hope left. Castiel could see it. He was losing the momentum he’d had when Jo and Ellen had been with them, his drive to do much of anything faltering as the camp took shape and became a very real little contained town. He picked at his food, drank too much, and every newscast made the exhaustion that clung to him seem to deepen.

Outside their fence, the Church of Castiel had morphed into an army attempting to wipe out heathens and hell demons as the Purgatory demons worked their way through the general population. Countries tried to fight, trade was interrupted, and the world as they’d known it was gone. It was fast becoming a dog eat dog world, with the U.S. government trying to keep control and failing.

It was amazing really how fast the world devolved.

Bobby was gone, Sam so drugged that he might as well be gone most days, and the only thing keeping Dean going appeared to be the fight to keep the fledgling camp running and the inhabitants safe and the idea that Jo and Ellen were safe somewhere. Dean had confessed that to him and Sam both one night. He claimed that no news about them was good news. Castiel wasn’t sure if Dean really believed that.

Still, Castiel expected him to, one day soon, say to hell with it all, shoot Sam in the head and turn the gun on himself. Cas did what he could for both of them, very aware that much of this was his fault. What could he possibly do to atone? He’d failed in every way.

“Thought I might do one of the surveillance shifts today,” he offered, then glanced at Sam. He was staring down at his plate without taking any bites. “Sam, you need to eat. Take a bite.”

Surveillance teams sat hidden at the major road to the camp, watching daily for anyone approaching. It was a long, boring task, yet completely necessary so no one snuck up on them.

Sam took a bite, chewing slowly, his attention turning to Dean.

Dean removed a flask from his jacket and contemplated it. “Whatever. Jody says we need a raid, mentioned it last night. Says we’re low on a few essentials and we need to bulk up our medical supplies. You mind helping her with that when you’re done?” He looked at the cup like he was trying to decide if he really wanted to doctor the coffee. Slowly, he set the flask on the table.

“Not at all.” Jody Mills was excellent in bullying Dean into action on some fronts and she was also very good with Sam when the medication had him deep under. She’d been the one to suggest they stock up on Sam’s medication while they still could.

Stretching out a hand, Sam snatched the flask up, opened it, and sniffed. “Happy hour is about nine hours away, Dean.” Closing the flask, he set it down on the table. “Isn’t it a little early in the day?”

“It was in my pocket. Forgot it was there.”

It was a lie and a poor one, because even Castiel could see that Dean knew he shouldn’t be drinking at breakfast.

Sam held it up, then slid it into the pocket of his own jacket. “Then I’ll take it back to the cabin for you -- since you forgot it was there.”

Dean pursed his lips, stared at Sam with narrowed eyes, and sat back, relaxing in tiny increments until he shrugged. “Thanks. Appreciate it.” He turned his head, looking across the room rather than at Sam. “I’ll be in communications today. You got plans, Sam?”

“Not really. I’m not good for much of anything. You know that. Maybe I’ll join you later.” Sam lapsed into silence after that, as though the exchange had wearied him.

They parted ways on the path, Sam moving back towards the cabins and Dean towards communications while Castiel checked in with the surveillance team and volunteered to go out. He spent an uncomfortable four hours in the blind and just when his relief arrived, he noted dust on the horizon. The dust grew and he saw vehicles approaching.

“Dean.” He called in and waited for a reply.

“Yeah, Jimmy?” His voice was heavy and tired. “What’s up?”

“Convoy nearing the turnoff. Two vans, two SUVs.” Periodically, they had convoys or even single vehicles head their way, people trying to flee from civilization as it currently was. Apparently heading into the woods was like an instinct to some people. Dean always headed them off and if they seemed inclined to accept, brought them back into camp.

“We’ll check it out.”

He turned the radio over to his relief and headed back through the woods towards camp.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo missed regular beds. Funny, that out of all the things she could miss, that was high on her list. Maybe if she hadn’t been pregnant, it wouldn’t be so high. As it was, she longed for a soft mattress instead of the makeshift bed in the back of a van. She even longed for the lumpy bed back at Bobby’s house that she’d shared with Dean.

She laid still, listening to the murmur of voices from the front seats and thinking about the current world.

Castiel’s church had gone to war with all other religions. It wasn’t a half-hearted war, but all out battle. News outlets had ceased pretending they were giving unbiased accounts. The Roman Catholic Church was putting forth an even greater effort to convince people that they were in the last days and that Castiel was the antichrist despite there having been no sightings of him in months by anyone except Constance.

Jo sighed. Had Castiel disappeared because Dean and Sam had managed to kill him? It was one of the things she wondered. She also wondered why Constance Turco had a bee in her bonnet for her and Ellen. They no longer went out unless it was night or they could cover their faces, which made traveling anywhere difficult. They took back roads and the dirt roads that had been mostly forgotten, camped in lonely, isolated areas, and spent as much time avoiding civilization as they could.

The journey to get here had been long and more dangerous with each day that had passed. When they’d first set out, she and Ellen had both thought it’d be a week or two. They’d thought they’d reach the cabin and be back with Dean and Sam quickly. That week or two had turned into months as they’d ended up spending much of that time in hiding. Her hopes of being held by Dean and sharing the pregnancy with him had dwindled until she was sure she was going to be giving birth in a field somewhere without him. She was sure that picture of him would have to suffice when their child asked about his or her father.

She wiped at the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Would he still want her when he saw her? Or was he going to take one look at her big pregnant belly and run? Jo prayed for the former and suspected the latter. A few times she’d even almost chickened out on continuing their journey, but Ellen continued to tell her that Dean should at least have the option of staying or going. She was right. Jo knew she was. Dean should know even at this late stage and if he ran from it, then Jo would deal with it then. She shouldn’t borrow trouble, yet with her emotions high, it was difficult not to.

“You think they’re there?”

The voice intruded on her thoughts and Jo looked over at her friend and doctor. Morgan Burgess was a family practitioner who’d also occasionally treated hunters who’d wandered her way. She’d been the first one to hide them when the CoC had come knocking and quarantine made hiding for long periods necessary. Over the months, she’d confided to Morgan pretty much everything about her relationship with Dean, including the supernatural aspects regarding it. With all Morgan had experienced herself, she’d not hesitated to believe Jo. They’d become good friends and Jo was grateful for her support.

“You mean or are we going to find another set of coordinates?”

“Yeah.” Morgan nodded, undid her seatbelt, and moved back with her, leaning across to press a hand to Ellen’s forehead. “Damn,” she murmured.

Jo sat up and pulled on an oversized hoodie over her tshirt. “I don’t know.” More than anything, Jo wanted to find Dean and see for herself that he was okay. She’d wondered at times if Dean had been right and Castiel had taken both he and Sam with him when he’d died. “Maybe. If they had to move on, then yes. We could end up following coordinates for months still.” She gestured at her mother. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, she’s still too hot. We may need to find a nice icy stream and put her in it to bring the fever down.”

“Wonderful.” A few days earlier, they’d had a close call and Ellen had been injured. She was now feverish and mildly delirious at times. “That’s just perfect.”

“I’m doing what I can, Jo.”

“I know.”

“If we can find antibiotics, she’ll be fine.”

The van lurched to a stop. “Ron? What’s going on,” Morgan called out.

“Looks like bandits maybe,” was his grim reply.

“God, no,” Jo whispered and leaned over to try and see out the front window. The angle was all wrong and she craned her neck in an attempt to see. A familiar voice came through the open window.

Dean’s voice.

~~~~~~~~~~

They set up a roadblock, their standard procedure, and waited for the vehicles to appear. Once they were stopped, Dean’s team surrounded them.

“Get out of your vehicles and keep your hands up. Do not reach for weapons or we will shoot.”

A young man little older than a teenager stepped from the lead van, keeping his hands up. Slowly, people began to emerge from the rest of the vehicles. All except the second van.

“How did you find this road,” Dean barked out in a harsh voice. He glanced at that second van, wondering why they seemed to think they were exempt from his order. He motioned for two men to keep weapons on that vehicle and looked back at the young man. “Answer me.”

The young man flinched, the hands he held in the air shaking. “We were looking for a camp.”

“What camp?”

“Wilderness. She said we had to find Wilderness.”

“Who? Who said it?” He was almost desperate to know who had ferreted out their location and sent people to them. Dean didn’t want to take in the starving masses. It was enough to take in the few here and there who really needed them.

“She’s in the other van,” the young man said with a gulp. “Are you gonna kill me?”

Dean abandoned him to one of his men and went to the second van, banging on the door. “Everybody out. One at a time, hands up. Come on.”

As the people came out, Dean blinked in shock. One was the woman from that vision Zachariah had given him. Risa? He blinked again. No, it wasn’t her, just a woman who looked very much like her and he let out a tiny sigh of relief. His imagination was getting the better of him. He wasn’t living that stupid vision. Couldn’t be. He needed to put that damned thing from his mind once and for all.

Reaching back, she steadied a pregnant girl, helping her step from the van.

His ability to breathe seemed to leave him entirely.

The pregnant girl was Jo. “Jo.”

She licked her lips, tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin a fraction. “Hey. We made it. Better late than never, right?”

He couldn’t help but stare at her stomach. It was quite a bit bigger than the last time he’d seen her about nine…. Dean felt a bit lightheaded, counting back the months. A baby. Jo was having a baby. That meant he was the…. He was going to be a father. Dean realized he still wasn’t breathing and forced himself to both take a breath and look at her face. “Jo?”

“Dean?” She stared up at him, the barest traces of uncertainty in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” He gestured at her stomach. Of all the things he’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. He’d imagined their eventual reunion would include plenty of alone time together, not a baby on the way. He’d never imagined a baby.

A baby.

My God, Jo’s pregnant, he thought. His gut clenched and his hands felt icy.

Her slow smile was almost serene and she put her hands right where he was trying not to stare, square on her stomach. She patted gently. “I’m very okay. We both are.”

“Am I the…?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. You are.”

“How….” Stupid question. He knew how it had happened. “When….” Also stupid. The timing was easy. Either that giddy period after Castiel died or three weeks later right before she’d left. His lips moved, but he couldn’t seem to get any other words out. Looking around at the people his team had forced from the vehicles, he changed the subject to one he hoped wouldn’t freak him out further. “Where’s Ellen?”

Chapter 23

Jo saw the fear in Dean’s eyes as he voiced his question and hurried to allay it. “In the back. Broken leg and high fever. She needs penicillin or some sort of antibiotic, but those are hard to come by. We don’t have any.”

“Open it up,” he ordered.

Morgan opened the back doors of the van. Dean moved close, touched Ellen’s brow with a hand, assessed the makeshift cast, and stepped back.

“Get these people to camp now,” he yelled, then motioned to Jo. “You’re with me.”

“Not without me.” Morgan shut the doors and moved to stand in front of Jo. “She’s due any time and doesn’t go anywhere without me.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m her doctor.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and jaw tightened. “Fine. Marlowe, Beckwith, you two ride in the van where they were, lead the rest in. Marlowe, sit back with Ellen.”

Once they were in Dean’s vehicle and moving down the road again, Jo relaxed a tiny fraction. He’d taken the initial news better than she’d thought he would. She watched him, drinking in the sight of him there with her. Jo wanted to grab him and kiss him senseless, but it wasn’t the time or place for that. Hopefully, she’d have the opportunity later and hopefully, he’d be amenable.

His jaw was tight and Jo recognized that he was upset and trying to hide it. “Where’ve you been, Jo? Why’d it take months for you to get here?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” she told him. “Believe me. We got the first coordinates just fine right after I found out I was pregnant and we headed out. We were going to use a doctor there before we left, to make sure everything was okay so I could tell you that, but the first one had all this CoC literature in his office.”

That moment, a day after Constance had made her announcement about them, had been a nightmare. They’d entered the office to see posters, flyers, and brochures everywhere. All the people in the waiting room had turned to look at them and Jo had seen recognition in the eyes of the receptionist and two other people before she and Ellen had turned and hurried away. The two people had followed them out into the parking lot, but not fast enough. She and Ellen were good at fast getaways. Or they had been before Jo’s belly had gotten big and she’d had to slow down by necessity.

“Between the PD’s and the CoC….” She shook her head. “We drove a couple days, then stopped at Morgan’s so I could have an initial check-up with her. She sometimes took care of hunters and a friend of mom’s sent us to her.”

Jo thought back, remembering the moments where she’d thought they were going to be captured and hadn’t been. She’d hated hiding and running, but the alternative was far worse. She didn’t want to know what the church wanted with them and her speculations had all been grim.

Morgan reached forward and touched her shoulder with a comforting hand. “I can tell it if you want.”

“No, I can do it.” It was her story to tell, not Morgan’s. “The CoC showed up at her office and her office manager, Debbie, snuck us out to Morgan’s house while Morgan dealt with them, but no sooner had Morgan gotten home to talk to us, than the PD’s came to town followed by the military.”

“Common sequence of events.” Dean slowed and turned down a lane barely wide enough for the vehicle.

“It was a mess. People were panicking like crazy. Town got quarantined for over four months with us hiding in it, trapped there. The military searched houses for victims and the CoC tried to search for us. They knew we were there somewhere. We ended up going between Morgan and Debbie’s houses trying to dodge them.” Jo turned a little in the seat. “We did discover that one of the obscure symbols used for general protection against evil seemed to keep the PD’s away from the house. Salt works with them, just like hell demons. Mom also observed something about one building with gargoyles all along the top, but I don’t remember all the details.”

Morgan cleared her throat. “I sent a message to your box number for them, but I’m not sure if any of the mail going out actually got out. It was pretty iffy. I suspect that anything that wasn’t obviously a bill payment was kept back.”

Dean sighed and glanced in the rearview mirror at Morgan. “Wouldn’t have reached us. We had to change towns and boxes because of quarantine. Place is a military encampment now. Only authorized personnel in or out.”

Jo shifted a little in the seat. After hours in the van, she was antsy and ready to get out and stretch her legs for more than a minute. “We’ve seen that a lot. Getting to the cabin took some doing. It was a long trip by itself. Roadblocks, military checkpoints, roads gone, bridges washed out…. GPS maps really need updating because they totally suck these days.” Jo smoothed her hands across her stomach, trying to soothe both the baby and herself. He was kicking up a storm and she was beginning to feel hungry and thirsty. “We ran into a huge CoC revival meeting and ended up hiding until they left the area.”

“That took up three very tense weeks with some of their own hiding us.”

“Some of them hid you,” Dean asked, glancing first at Jo, then Morgan.

Jo nodded. The hiding had been some of the worst times of her life, especially with her anxiety to reach Dean. “They were leaving the church, found the focus on us a little disturbing. They hid us, fed us, kept us safe. Not long after that we ended up in a little town of nut bags who didn’t want to let me leave because I was pregnant.”

“We had to shoot our way out of that one.” Morgan was proud of that and that none of them had gotten hurt, but Jo figured the people had been too afraid of hitting her to shoot back. “They had this thing about the end of the world and pregnant women were to be worshipped as goddesses who were going to repopulate the earth after the cleansing fire.”

“Cleansing fire,” Dean asked with a raised brow.

Jo nodded. “Yup. They claimed that we’re going to have a cleansing fire that’ll scorch the earth, leaving only their little corner as refuge. New Eden, they called it. Something about the archangel Michael sweeping across the globe with an army of angels and a vision one of them claimed to have had. Complete nut jobs. When we finally got to the cabin, I think I cried for days when you weren’t there. I’m a little emotional what with the hormones and all.”

“We stayed a month.” Morgan leaned forward. “I made her rest while the rest of us planned our route here around road closures, announced quarantines, and changed physical landmarks from the disasters.”

“That’s a long time to rest,” he observed. “Something wrong with the baby? Or Jo?”

Over and over, Dean’s glance slid to her stomach and Jo heard concern in his voice. “I’m fine,” she assured him. She was fine. She’d had no complications at all, an easy pregnancy according to Morgan and Ellen.

“Precaution,” Morgan told him in a soothing tone. “I make her lie down with her feet up as much as possible just in case, but blood pressure and blood sugar is all normal. Without access to the usual machines, I’m inclined to err on the side of caution.”

“Good to know.”

“I almost made her wait to drive here until after giving birth, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Neither would Ellen. They wanted to get here.”

While Jo had been grateful for Morgan’s concern, she hated having to slow down as much as she’d had to. Her condition was another reason they’d moved so slowly across the country. Morgan would only let them travel so long before making them stop out of concern for Jo. “It was hard. We had to let the jobs we saw go by and keep moving as much as possible while still keeping me and mom out of sight. Do you know how hard it is as a pregnant woman to take a pee break when you have to go behind a bush? The only rest stops we chanced were late at night.”

“Can’t say that I do, Jo. Guys don’t have that problem.”

“It sucks and we now know every damn back road and dirt path across the country. I was sure we’d get here, find more coordinates waiting, and I’d give birth in a field.” She looked at him. “I don’t have to give birth in a field, do I?”

“Not unless you want to. We’ve got buildings and beds. Running water and electricity most of the time.” His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips before he added, “An ambulance.”

“An ambulance?” She shot an amused glance his way. “You stole an ambulance?”

“It was just sitting there….” His lips twitched, a small grin forming. “No one was looking.”

Jo smiled. “I’ll bet.”

“It’s not a bad set-up. We’ve worked hard to get it all running. We’re pretty well stocked on all fronts.” He cleared his throat. “About Ellen. What does she need, Morgan?”

“A place to recuperate and antibiotics. If you have both, she’ll be fine.”

“We have both,” he confirmed.

They pulled up to the closed gates. He honked twice, waited until the gates were opened and drove in. They turned right and went down a dirt path for a few minutes before he stopped.

“Your people can make camp here until we can get living quarters worked out. There are male and female restrooms a short ways further down this road and both have showers. This is where we usually have people wait.”

“Where you can have a team keep an eye on them. Are those fence posts iron,” Jo asked, squinting towards the fence.

“Go with what works, right? It was a lot of rotting wood and wire when we found the place. We redid the fence starting the day we moved in here. Sam had some great ideas, too, and Jimmy built on them. I’ll show you around later.”

“She can have short walks only,” Morgan told him, sitting back and sliding towards the door.

He didn’t turn his head, flicking his glance back at her. “I gathered that, Morgan. You think I’d drag Jo around camp for hours in her condition?”

“I don’t know you personally, Dean. I don’t know what you’d do.”

Jo ignored their snippy tones and opened her door as the rest of the vehicles approached. “Okay. We should calm everyone down, Morgan. Come on.”

“I suppose.” She nodded and reached for her own door handle.

They explained about the living quarters and as soon as they mentioned the restrooms with showers, people began gathering their shower supplies. It was decided that they’d rest here for a day or two and when they were refreshed from traveling, they’d be brought in to the rest of the camp. Jo knew it was actually a precaution. Dean’s men would be watching them the entire time from both hidden and open areas. At least, Jo assumed that was the plan. It was how she’d do it if she were him.

Dean drew Jo aside slightly, his head bending down so his mouth was near her ear. “Come rest in my cabin while I get Ellen set up?” The request was soft and even coaxing.

“I’d like that.” It’d give her a feel of how he’d been living, a look into his life at present.

They started walking, Morgan a few paces behind, far enough to give them privacy to speak should they wish to and close enough to be there if Jo needed her. A short ways from a path into the woods, a figure emerged and Jo stopped walking.

It was Castiel.

Several emotions, all negative, welled up and she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, a question on why he was there. Dean called him Jimmy and claimed it wasn’t Castiel, but Jo had that sensation, the one she’d always gotten around Castiel after he’d raised her. She suggested she and ‘Jimmy’ chat later and made a mental note to make sure there were plenty of other people around at the time.

Dean appeared to trust him however, and since she trusted Dean, she didn’t let her alarm show at Dean’s request. He had a handle on whatever the situation was here with ‘Jimmy’. She’d find out what that situation was as soon as she’d rested.

Jo let Dean lead her away from the line of vehicles and prayed her mother would be safe.

~~~~~~~~~~

He ran through the woods, keeping a steady pace along the well-worn path. Castiel had learned to enjoy the occasional run and the sensation of elation when he ran a long while without stopping and when he beat his own time over that distance. A runner’s high, he’d heard it called. Whatever it was, it did give him some pleasure in this human state. He also like the path through the woods. It was quiet and dark even in the day. Private. He could be alone with only nature as his companion, a thing he did still enjoy despite no longer being an angel.

Most of the men and women rode back to camp along the access road, but he preferred to run when the weather was nice. He could let his mind go blank and concentrate only on his rhythm of movement.

At the fence, he opened the lock on the small gate, went through, and locked it behind him. The rest of the way he walked, knowing he’d be getting there probably about the time Dean had the new people at the clearing. He was curious about them. He could see a blond and brunette with Dean on the path towards the cabins. The blond appeared to be pregnant and as he moved closer, he recognized that blond woman. It was Jo.

Castiel stopped walking. He felt like he might throw-up. Jo was pregnant and he’d bet she’d had no idea about her state when she and Ellen had left Bobby Singer’s house that day. If she’d known and told Dean, it was likely Dean never would have let her leave at all. The past months of separation between them were on him as well as all the other things he felt guilt for. Dean had missed being there during the formation months of their child because of the threat Castiel had presented to them. He’d not gotten to experience the wonder of those months and Jo had missed having Dean there to experience it all with her. She’d missed being held and loved during what may have been a frightening yet exciting time.

A fresh wave of shame crashed over him and he almost turned and ran back into the woods.

“Jimmy,” Dean called, waving a hand for him to join them.

Swallowing hard, he slowly crossed the distance, remembering everything he’d done to Jo. The hurt and humiliation of why he’d raised her. The arrogant threats. He had a lot to make up to her and Ellen.

Her features hardened as he approached and she took a step back to stand partially behind Dean. “What’s he doing here?” Her voice was cool and as unwelcoming as he’d expected upon seeing her.

“It’s not Castiel. Believe me, it’s not him. He had a vessel, Jimmy Novak. This is Jimmy.”

Castiel could see Dean was quickly falling back into the intimate way he’d treated Jo months earlier, standing close and in that personal space place that had baffled Castiel until he’d become human himself.

Jo rested her hands on her stomach in a protective gesture and pursed her lips. “Jimmy. He’s the Jimmy you mentioned earlier.”

“Yeah. Jimmy, this is Jo. Sam and I mentioned her and her mom Ellen a few times.”

“A few is an understatement.” Castiel held out his hand. “Hi, Jo. I’ve heard a lot about you and your mother both. They talked about you rather frequently.”

There was suspicion and something deeper that he couldn’t identify in her eyes, but she took his hand. She blinked, glanced down him and back up and released his hand. “We’ll have to chat later. Get to know each other.” The words were careful and he didn’t blame her.

“I look forward to it.” He was probably going to have to avoid her, only it wouldn’t be an easy thing to accomplish. Not in this small camp. “We should have tea later.” He lowered his attention to her pregnant belly, still a little surprised to see her in that condition. “Herbal, obviously.”

“Sure. Maybe tomorrow afternoon.” Her gaze slid along him once more and he had the feeling she was seeing far more than he was offering.

A panicky sensation fluttered through his stomach, mingling with the mild nausea. He quickly ran through what had been said and how he’d behaved and didn’t see anything odd in his behavior that would cause her scrutiny.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder with one hand. “You mind sitting with Ellen and keeping her calm while I get Jo settled down for a bit and have a cabin cleaned up so we can get Ellen comfortable while she recovers?”

“Recovers?”

“She’s got a broken leg and fever and Morgan,” he gestured to the dark haired woman, “this is Morgan, she’s a doctor, she says Ellen’s a little delirious. If Ellen calls you Cas, just nod and go with it. Can’t explain while she’s out of it, so just keep her company and keep her calm.”

“Of course I will. Where --”

“In the back of that van over there.”

He needed time to process Ellen and Jo both here and how he was going to deal with it. Dean was too distracted by everything and Sam too drugged to realize he’d been lying to them. Jo might be too concerned with the baby in the end, though. Ellen, however…. Ellen had studied him. As soon as she was better, she’d see though him quickly. He could see he had two choices. Stay away from her or confide in her and he didn’t really want to run from Ellen.

In minutes, he was sitting in the van with her, holding her hand and wishing he could take away her pain. He could see a few strands of gray hair beginning to show in her hair and she looked older to him. These months out in the world had aged her. He found he was glad to see her alive, a few strands of gray or not.

She stirred, eyes opening. Ellen stared at him, confusion in her eyes. “Cas?”

“Hi Ellen.” He slid his thumb across the back of her hand. She was thinner than he remembered, as though she’d been going without food to make sure Jo and the baby had enough. Castiel decided that was likely.

“Are you gonna heal me?” Her voice was raspy.

“Would if I could, but that ability has been gone for months. I’m powerless now.”

“Why’re you here?” She licked her lips and moaned.

“Penance.”

“Oh.” Her eyes slipped shut again and she began to move restlessly, her head turning as she slipped back into an uneasy sleep.

Releasing her hand, he moved to the end of the van and peered out, catching Beckwith’s eye. “Hey, Alan, can you have someone bring me some cold water and a cloth?”

“Sure, Jimmy.”

“Thanks.”

While he waited for the cloth and water, he studied the people that had come in with them. There were about fifteen people total, including Jo, Morgan, and Ellen, roughly divided in half equally men and women. One of the men crouched down at the fire kept watching him with a curiously intent stare. Perhaps he’d been one of Castiel’s followers. Finally, the man turned away.

The people split into groups. One would stay and start setting up camp while the rest would shower. When the first group returned, the second would go and the first would finish setting up camp. He tuned out their relieved chatter and concentrated on Ellen. He remained with her, bathing her brow with the cloth until Dean returned with two men and a stretcher, plus the anxious doctor Morgan.

Castiel saw Ellen to her cabin, a small one not far from his own. Once she was settled, he went to his cabin. With the door closed firmly behind him, he sat and contemplated the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean took Jo to rest for awhile in his cabin, thinking she’d appreciate real furniture again. He was glad the walk wasn’t far, but if she’d even looked like she’d needed it, he would have carried her. He led them up the steps and into the building.

At their entrance, Sam looked up. “Hey, Jo.” His greeting held no surprise at all, like he’d expected her even and had been waiting to see her. It always made Dean uneasy when there were moments like that. He suspected Sam was having visions now too and was keeping it from him.

Sam was on the couch, a book in hand. He’d taken to reading any fiction or even non-fiction they had in the camp, slowly going through the pages. Jimmy added to that collection every time he went outside the camp if he could. Sam had read everything from novels to books on folk remedies and engineering.

Jo raised a hand in hello. “Hi, Sam. Long time.”

“It has. Glad you and Ellen are okay.”

“Sam?” Dean cleared his throat. “Who told you we found them and they’re okay?”

He seemed confused a moment, glancing back towards the table and chairs. “I…extrapolated from Jo coming through the door and you not being upset that Ellen must be okay, too. Was I wrong?”

“Not really,” Jo said. “Mom’s got a broken leg and fever, but she’s alive. We think she’ll be okay once she gets some medicine.”

“Okay.” He marked his place in the book with a finger, studied her a long moment, then gestured at her stomach. “Congratulations on the baby. You look great.”

“Thanks.”

There was no way to miss how she seemed genuinely pleased by the congratulations and it pleased Dean that she was happy by it. He stepped a little closer to her, touching her back with one hand, so light a touch that he doubted she felt it.

Sam set the book aside and stood. “Who’s this with you?”

Dean made a belated introduction. “Uh, this is Morgan, Jo’s doctor and friend.”

“A doctor. Good. We need a doctor.” He waved a hand at her. “Hi. I’m Sam, Dean’s brother.” He slid his hands in his jeans pockets, nodded twice and added, “I’m crazy.”

Dean closed his eyes for two seconds at the inappropriateness of that addition. “Geez, Sam, just lay it all out there.”

“No reason not to, Dean. It’s the truth.”

Morgan didn’t appear disturbed however, quirking a brow. Amusement danced in her dark eyes. “Who isn’t crazy these days?”

Sam frowned. “I’m serious. I’m really crazy.”

“Crazy doesn’t scare me, Sam,” she assured him with a small smile. “Not in this world. You’ve got to do better than that I’m afraid.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Jo’s told me all about you and Dean both. I sort of feel like I know you already.”

Her tone was flirtatious and Dean tried not to roll his eyes.

Sam took a step forward. “Then you have me at a disadvantage.”

“We’ll have to remedy that.”

Dean took Jo’s hand and led her into his bedroom and away from the open door. He hadn’t seen a woman so obviously flirt with Sam in a long time. His crazy put off a lot of the women in the camp. “If you want to lie down at all while you wait, you can use my bed.” He turned to face her.

Jo was watching him, a hungry, yet confused and even scared expression on her face and in her eyes. It occurred to him that she was afraid he didn’t want her anymore. He did want her -- God, did he still want her! But he needed time to think about the baby. Still, he could show her in some way that he wanted her.

Reaching out, he drew her close and kissed her with all of the relief he felt to have her safe with him again. When he pulled back a fraction, the fear was gone and he smoothed his fingers across her cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Her belly was a firm press against him and he looked down at it. A baby. What the hell did he feel about that? Was he happy? He honestly wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now. A little bit of fear, uncertainty. A tiny sliver of possessiveness. This baby was his. He knew it was true. Jo wouldn’t say it was when it wasn’t and the timing was right. “I have to get Ellen set up and comfortable. You be okay with Sam?”

“Of course.”

“He’s different,” he warned.

“We all are. Separation has a way of doing that to people.”

She had a point and he followed her back into the main room. Sam was looking at Morgan like he wasn’t sure how to act. It reminded Dean of how he’d been years earlier and he almost smiled at that. It wasn’t often anymore that a woman disconcerted Sam so much. “You two playing nice?”

“I’m always nice to play with,” Morgan replied with a slightly wicked grin.

Dean crossed his arms. “You two want us to leave you alone for awhile?”

“No, that’s okay. We’ll talk later. About Ellen. You’re going to get a cabin ready for her? I need access to your infirmary and I want to oversee the preparations.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Thought Jo didn’t go anywhere without you and she’s resting here.”

“Sam will come find me if she needs me.”

That was a fast understanding the two had come to. “Okay with you, Sam?”

Jo moved to the couch and eased down onto it.

“I’ll catch up with Jo.”

“Okay then. After you, Morgan.” What he was sure of was that he didn’t like Morgan too well. She was confident, take-charge, and had no fear of being a pushy bitch to get things done. They’d barely gotten away from the cabin before Morgan was touching his arm in an effort to get him to stop walking. “What?”

“Before you get all over her ass about being pregnant in this world, you need to see something and understand a few things.” Morgan held out the pouch that had been attached at the waist of her jeans with a clip. It looked like a small digital camera case.

“What makes you think I’m going to get all over her ass about it?” He took it, glanced down at it. “What’s this?”

“Something for your eyes only and make sure I get it back as soon as you’re done. Jo trusted me to keep it safe and charged in case we ever ran into you. No time like the present to give it to you, before you say or do something to upset her.”

He clipped it to his own belt, wondering why Morgan thought he’d say or do something to upset Jo. Was she just being protective and cautious as a doctor, friend, or both? “I’ll look at it later.”

“Do that.”

She was all business as they looked at the cabin he proposed for Ellen. It was small, but easy to clean and it didn’t take long at all before they were moving back towards the vehicles.

Chapter 24

It was with surprise that Sam realized Morgan was flirting with him. She wasn’t even being particularly subtle about it, either. He glanced at Chuck, who was watching them at the table across the room with something like a fond fatherly grin.

He let Morgan draw him into conversation, quickly understanding that Jo had filled her in on quite a lot over the months. It was apparent in the way she talked to him.

“We should spend time together,” she said. “Since Jo’s my friend and Dean’s your brother.” She tucked her shoulder length dark hair behind her ears. He liked how there was a slight curl to her hair.

“You mean give them privacy.”

“Exactly.” Her smile faded a little and she bit her lower lip before saying, “Jo says you’re like a brother to her. She trusts you.”

“We have a little history,” he admitted.

“The demon Meg.”

“Jo told you about that?”

“She did. She talked a lot about you two once I got her talking. She and Ellen both. Good things, bad things, and the in-between.” She studied him for a few seconds, then asked, “You’ll protect her if she needs it? I mean today? ”

“Yes.”

“Find me if she goes into labor?”

“Definitely.”

“Protect the baby?”

“Of course.” The words were coming out easily today. Usually, talking much was a chore, his mouth not wanting to form the words and voice speak them. Chuck had been right. Today was a good day in many ways. For him, for Dean, for Jo and Ellen.

“Good.” The flirtatious, sassy smile returned. “How about we meet up at dinner in a couple days? You and me alone at a table talking about everything under the sun.”

“You want to have dinner?” He was liking the way she was looking at him, like he was a man underneath all the crazy. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at him that way and Sam stood up a little straighter.

She turned to one side, thumbs hooking in her front jeans pockets. “Would lunch be better? I’d say breakfast, but that implies other things have happened beforehand and I don’t think we know each other well enough for that yet.”

He wasn’t sure what to say at that. Did she not get what crazy meant? Was she really not bothered by it? “Morgan, did Jo really tell you everything?”

“She did.”

“I mean about me. I have --”

“Hallucinations and seizures and you’re so far around the bend you’re meeting yourself? She told me.” Her attention fell to the floor, like she was searching for something there. “She also told me to not make a big deal of it, that you’re still you despite it and you’re a good man.” Her gaze raised to meet his again and he saw that, despite her outward confidence, she was afraid she’d been too forward.

“It’s not just run-of-the-mill hallucinations, Morgan,” he told her in a gentle voice. “I hallucinate Lucifer.”

She raised her brows in question.

He shook his head. “That doesn’t bother you? I mean, I’m nuts.” How many other ways could he say it?

“Sam, you’re on medication, right?” At his nod, she shrugged. “Then let me worry about whether or not I want to get to know you. I do, by the way. The way Jo described you….” She turned her head and, for a second, he was sure she saw Chuck. She certainly seemed to be silently acknowledging him before she looked back at Sam. Was he imagining it, though? “I’m a little bold, I guess. I don’t see the point in wasting time, especially not in this world. So, how about we have that dinner in a couple days, see how well we like each other, and go from there. Would that be more comfortable for you?”

“I think that would be best.” Dean and Jo returned then and when he and Jo were talking later, he asked, “Is Morgan psychic?”

“Not that I know of. Why?” Jo put her feet on the coffee table.

“She seemed to…really….” He sighed. “I don’t know. We had a weird moment is all.”

“Well, she has a really good understanding of the life, but I’ve never heard her mention any abilities. What happened?”

“Remember Darla? How she saw something that day?”

“I do. Are you seeing something here right now and she saw it?”

“The medicine takes care of 99.9 percent of the hallucinations, but it was like that in a way. She seemed to notice that…. Never mind. It’s silly, I guess.”

“You seem pretty good on this one.”

He chuckled. “Today has been an unusual day. Most days, it makes my mind feel numb, like I’m wrapped in blankets. Everything is a little muffled. Today, though, I feel almost normal. It’s weird how it goes. Not consistent.” He gestured at her stomach. “Do you like being pregnant?”

“Like?” Her brows rose. “It has it’s moments, like when I feel him moving. Or her. I don’t know which. What it is is scary, Sam. There are a million things that can go wrong.”

“And a lot that can go right.”

“Dean,” she began, then looked away.

He thought he could guess her concern. “It’s his baby, too. The way he and I are about family? You know he’ll love him. Or her. It just might take him a couple days to get used to the idea that he’s going to be a father.”

“A couple days? It’s taken me months to get used to the idea that I’m pregnant at all, let alone going to be a mom. A couple days might be all he has before the baby comes.”

“Dean likes kids,” he reassured her. “He’s good with them. I don’t think it’ll take long at all.” He actually thought Dean was going to be ecstatic once he got used to the idea.

“But we can’t have happily ever after. It won’t work. Look outside. We all know it’s not there for us.”

“You weren’t going to have it before, back when we thought Castiel was dead, yet you were both making plans to try.” He remembered that. Remembered Dean working out details in mumbles and half questions to himself.

She was quiet a moment. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“That’s what you and Dean will do. It’s the same thing you were planning on doing before only you have the baby to consider. I think it might even be easier for you because we’re mostly here at the camp these days. We don’t go far now, even for jobs.”

Jo nodded. “I’ll say it again. You’re right.”

Dean returned not long after that. “Ellen’s all settled. Morgan is with her. You want to go, Jo? Visit her?”

“For awhile.”

The cabin Ellen was in must not have been too far away, for Dean was back in minutes. He asked Sam not to let anyone disturb him for awhile and went into his room and shut the door. Sam wondered what was going on, but let the numbness in his mind take him over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean Winchester had an abrasive edge, but as Morgan had been told by both Jo and Ellen, he was a hunter, a leader, and had been through literal hell. He was allowed to have an edge. She was tense, her body seeming to absorb all of the tension that had melted from Jo the second she’d seen Dean on that road.

Morgan didn’t want to argue with him, really she didn’t. Keeping her friends safe was a priority and she wanted to make sure he was aware that, while Jo was still strong in all the ways he remembered, there was a delicateness to where she was in her pregnancy. She shouldn’t be upset. Jo needed to stay calm.

She followed them into his cabin. The stab of pure lust she had at meeting Sam Winchester managed to throw her for a moment before she recovered. She knew in a second that she wanted to get to know him, crazy or not. Her flirting was beyond shameless and perhaps a tad too aggressive. She knew it. Her husband Rob, dead now for over five years, had once told her she was far too enthusiastic in it, but that he’d liked that about her.

It made Sam uncomfortable. She could see it in the way his shoulders hunched and he took a step back away from her.

She dialed it back, mildly embarrassed, yet unable to stop herself from a couple more playful remarks just to watch a fresh flush of color paint his cheekbones. It gave him an almost innocent look that intrigued her.

Upon leaving the cabin, she gave Dean the camera Jo had asked her to keep charged. She had two reasons for giving him the camera. The first was so that he could see and hear Jo’s own words about the pregnancy and know how desperately she’d wanted him there with her. He needed to know it all and understand it. The second was a little sneaky and even manipulative, but forgivable under the circumstances.

Morgan wanted him to want Jo close, which would get Jo away from a member in their group that Ellen and Morgan had been trying to shelter Jo from. She wasn’t even sure Jo was aware that Gil had a major thing for her and didn’t seem to care that she was pregnant with another man’s child. He’d taken to watching Jo whenever she wasn’t looking, like he couldn’t wait to have her. Their finding this camp was perfect timing and she hoped Dean would react the way she thought he would.

Dean bristled a little at her words. They hadn’t come out right and she was sorry for that. She didn’t know he’d say or do anything to upset Jo. Morgan was merely afraid he would due to that abrasive edge she’d noticed. Maybe he wasn’t like that with Jo. She’d never gotten the impression he was, not from anything Jo or Ellen had said.

So she tried to be business after that, and only business, to show him she’d be an asset to the camp. She wasn’t expecting to have a free ride. Morgan would work for her room and board and would work hard.

An hour after Jo had left to take a shower and relax with the rest of their group, a feminine voice sounded at Ellen’s cabin door.

“You’re Morgan I take it?” A dark haired woman stood there, her arms crossed as she assessed first Morgan, then the cabin. “Cabin looks good.”

“I am. Morgan Burgess.”

“I’m Jody Mills.” She gestured to the bed. “How is she?”

“Starting to rest better already. Another day or so and she’ll be thinking she can run around the camp for hours all the time. You know Ellen?”

Jody came inside the cabin. She grasped the back of one straight-backed chair and brought it to the bedside. “Not well. We met a couple times briefly at a friend’s house. I was there in a more official sort of capacity at the time and my business was with our friend.” She sat.

Official business? That probably meant she’d been a cop.

“I’ll sit with her awhile. Why don’t you go have a shower, some food, and rest with your people? I’ll come get you if she takes a turn for the worse.”

She got the impression that, like Dean, Jody was used to having her orders obeyed. The words were phrased as a suggestion except her tone indicated it was an order. “Did Dean send you?”

“Sam actually. He told me that Jo speaks highly of you, that you worked hard to keep her alive to get here.”

“Jo’s my friend. Of course I protected her. She did the same for me.”

Jody tilted her head slightly to one side, thought a second, and nodded. “Looking forward to working with you later, Morgan. Go take that time to rest. The way things happen here, it might be the last relaxing moment you have for awhile.”

She sat back in her own chair. “Are you ordering me to rest, Jody?”

“Do I have to?” Jody smiled. “I have heard doctors take better care of their patients than themselves.”

“Not always true.” She stood and paused. “Are you sure you don’t mind sitting with her?”

“Not at all.”

The shower did make Morgan feel a little less tense, as did some real food, and when she was done she joined Jo a short ways from the fire. It wasn’t late enough to need it for light, but the warmth was welcome. “So…. Those are the famous Winchester brothers.”

“Yup. I thought you might like Sam.”

“There is something about him and I don’t mean his illness. He….” Morgan thought back to Sam and how she felt drawn to him. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain it. I’m not sure how.” She pulled her jacket tighter around her. It was beginning to get chilly as the clouds in the sky began to cover the sun.

“I can explain it.” Jo’s glance was amused and her voice a little smug even.

“Do tell then.”

“It’s lust at first sight.”

Morgan couldn’t help but smile at that rather accurate assessment of that second she’d seen Sam. “It’s not just that,” she protested, “though I will admit he’s pretty easy on the eyes.” She poked a finger against Jo’s arm. “You never mentioned that part, neither you or Ellen. You could have at least told me he was cute.”

Jo snorted. “It’s totally lust and I thought you could just decide for yourself without any input from me.” She shifted in her lawn chair. “Sam’s a great guy, but be careful if you decide to go for him. He and Dean are close. Hurt Sam in some way and you’ll make a fast enemy of Dean. They’re a package deal, so if you don’t like Dean, don’t make a move on Sam at all.”

Turning her head, Morgan stared at Jo a long moment. “You know me. You know I’d never hurt him intentionally.”

“I know, but they’re both special to me. They were there the first time I started to grow into being a real hunter and they were there to comfort me when I died. I’m a little protective of them. They’ve been through a lot more in their lives than about ten people combined. Ten hunters combined. Each. Be careful.”

“You be careful, too.”

Jo blinked twice and shot a look towards their group and back, her voice lowering. “You mean Dean?”

“There’s an edge to him.”

“I know.” She nodded. “But under it all he’s the sweetest, gentlest guy I know. He hides it well and he’ll do anything to protect the ones he loves.”

“Will you still be careful?”

“Will you,” Jo countered with raised brows.

“Of course. I’ll even try to like Dean.”

“That may take awhile. You’re a lot alike on some things.”

“I said I’d try. Success may be another story entirely.”

They sat talking awhile longer until Morgan spotted Dean coming towards them again. By the look on his face, she knew he’d been watching the videos she’d given him and prepared herself to run interference when Gil inevitably got in the way.

~~~~~~~~~~

With Morgan and Jo getting Ellen comfortable and medicated, Dean took the camera back to his cabin and his room and sat down to look at whatever was on it. He turned it on. There were no pictures, only videos. He thumbed through the selection, then went back to the first one to play it.

Jo appeared on the screen. She sat in front of it on a chair and took a deep breath. When she spoke, she spoke like she was talking to Dean, as though he was there in the room with her.

“Well…. It’s been a long week. I can’t believe how fast things are going in the crapper. You know, I actually saw a crowd of people taken over today? Scary as all hell. I saw a schoolteacher start murdering her students. They weren’t more than about seven, Dean. I guess you’re seeing that, too.” She cleared her throat. “I feel a little silly talking at the camera like this, but mom says go for it. She says maybe some day I can show all these to you and you can feel like you were here with us.” Standing, she turned sideways, raising her pajama top and little and lowering her pajama pants slightly. “I’m getting a little belly now. Can you see it? It’s not much yet, but it’s there. I can tell.” She slid her hand across it.

Dean found he was reaching to the small screen with one finger, like he could reach through it and touch her stomach. He put his hand back down in his lap.

“Right there. Tiny. Mom says it won’t be little for long and to enjoy my pants still fitting.” She put her pajamas back in order and sat back down. “Please don’t be mad. I’d tell you if I could. You know that, Dean. You know --”

Jo wiped tears from her face and it ended. He moved to the next one, repeating that sequence over and over. Jo would appear, talk for awhile, then it would end and he’d play the next one. Somewhere around what she said was her fifth month, he skipped ahead to the last two.

She patted her stomach. “He’s kicking up a storm now. I don’t know he’s a he, but it feels right. Morgan says we’ll have to wait until I have him to find out. No way we’re chancing a hospital or clinic now, not with the church stepping up their hunt for me and mom.” She licked her lips and glanced down and back up. “I miss you, Dean. I think about you every day. I hope you’re still out there. I remember….”

He went to the last one.

“Hey. I’ll cut right to it today. I’m scared. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I’m so scared.”

She’d been crying, her nose red and eyes swollen.

“A baby in this world. I’ve got a little silver bracelet ready to put on his arm, but other than that…. How am I going to protect him? The church won’t stop. The PD’s are still running strong. We had an accident yesterday and mom got hurt. Morgan keeps telling me we’ll get to you, but she’s just as scared as I am. I can see it. I hear it. She was crying last night when she thought I was asleep.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with a hand. “Please be there, Dean. I can’t run much longer. I’m due really soon. I….” She pressed her lips tight together, drew in a long breath, nodded once and said, “You’ll be there. I believe you will and maybe it won’t make everything better, but we’ll be able to help each other.”

He sat back, stunned. Slowly, he booted up the laptop he still had and copied the videos off the card before putting the card back in the camera. Later, he’d go back and watch the ones he’d skipped. Dean didn’t know how to feel about all that he’d watched. They hadn’t been diaries so much as one-sided conversations with him. Jo had shared milestones and her feelings, hopes, and dreams for them and their baby. She’d also shared her fears. She’d poured out her heart to him and now all he could think about was that she should be here with him.

He was out of his cabin and striding to the circle of vehicles before he even thought about it. Dean went straight to Jo, ignoring the way one of the men and Morgan stood as he approached, like they thought he was going to hurt Jo. He gestured at Jo. “Get your things, Jo. You’re coming with me.” Used to having his orders obeyed, he was surprised when she refused, with a slow shake of her head.

“No.”

“I won’t tell you twice.”

“Good, ‘cause then I won’t have to say no twice.” She pushed herself up from her chair.

Why was she saying no? He stared at her a long moment, calculating how best to make her do what he wanted. She had to go with him. “Don’t you think a wife should be with her husband, because I do.”

He heard gasps from those in her group that were near enough to hear and Jo blinked. She stepped close and lowered her voice so only he could hear her. “I thought we were in agreement that his saying it didn’t make it so.”

“We were…until I found out we’re having a baby. The baby makes it so. We’re bound by that.”

“You’re reasoning is skewed. A baby doesn’t make a marriage, Dean. You know that.”

He grasped her arm in a gentle grip, rubbing his thumb along her skin. “Come on. If you won’t get them now, we can come back later for your things.”

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

Dean turned his head, shooting a long, cool stare at the man who’d spoken. He was of medium height with dark hair and a dark growth of beard along his jaw. “Jo’s my wife and I suggest you mind your own damn business. My wife is going to be living in my cabin.”

“Wife?” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re married?” His tone was thoughtful and he smirked. “Well now, that’s just interesting.”

“It’s okay, Gil.” Morgan came forward, laying a hand on the man’s arm. “This is Jo’s business. Go back to the fire and leave her to it.”

Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Gil was the reason Morgan had hurried to make him aware of Jo’s diaries. From the way Gil looked at Jo, he guessed the man was interested in her, though it didn’t seem like Jo even noticed him. She seemed unimpressed by his hurry to defend her.

When Morgan had the group distracted, Jo tugged her arm from Dean’s grasp. “You don’t want me in your cabin, Dean. Trust me.”

“I think I do.” After hearing her own words on her pregnancy and becoming a mother, he wanted her close. He’d missed direct experience with her pregnancy and if he could get direct experience now, then he’d take it while he could. He should have kept her there with him and wasn’t going to let her slip away again.

“No, you don’t.” She shook her head several times. “I don’t sleep through the night. I toss and turn and get up to pee fifty times. I’m restless and I can’t stay sitting or anything very long.”

“I get it. Let’s go.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Can you just do what I ask?”

“Maybe if you actually asked instead of ordered, then yes.”

Her words stopped him dead. She was right and he took a long deep breath. He wasn’t asking, he was ordering and Jo didn’t respond well to orders unless she’d agreed to it ahead of time. He should have remembered that and Dean nodded once. “Okay then. Joanna Beth Harvelle, will you pack your things and come to my cabin, making it ours?” Well…theirs and Sam’s.

“If you really want me there, then yes. But if you’re wanting it for any other reason, then no.” Her gaze held his, measuring and weighing whatever she was seeing in his eyes.

“I want you there.”

Jo licked her lips and nodded. “Then give me a few minutes.”

She was back quickly, a bag slung across her shoulder and he took it from her. The walk back to the cabin was silent, but not awkward. He took her hand in his, leading her down the path and walking at the pace she set. His mind kept returning to the last weeks they’d been in each other’s company. He wanted that with her again. Was it possible?

Sam wasn’t there at all when they arrived and he opened the top two drawers of a four drawer dresser. “I emptied these for you.” Dragging over a chair, he set her bag on it so she wouldn’t have to bend to put her clothes away.

“You emptied drawers for me?”

“I did. Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

Dean retreated to sit on the bed and watch as she began to sort clothes into the drawers. She didn’t have any more clothes than she’d had back at Bobby’s. Maybe a few maternity shirts and pants added. “So, what do you think,” he asked, watching her as she worked. From behind, no one would guess she was pregnant. She’d remained slim, all of the pregnancy gain out to her front. “Was it when the condom broke or when --”

“When you waited a little too long to reach for one?” She glanced over her shoulder at him and shrugged. “Don’t really think it matters. They happened the same night. I’m pretty sure it’s ground zero since you’d been gone three weeks before. Timing is perfect.”

They’d been reckless that night. He remembered that about it. Reckless in knowing that they were parting ways the next day and trying to get as much time together as possible. Dean supposed this outcome was what could be expected given their sort of luck. “Right.”

She finished looking the bedroom over and sat on the end of the bed a little ways down from him. “Dean, this is a lot for you to process. I’ve had months to get used to it and you haven’t. I can stay out with my people.”

“No.” He shifted position, facing her. “You’re carrying my kid, you stay with me.”

“Dean, I’m pregnant. Are you getting what that means?”

“Course I am.” She said it like he wasn’t understanding her, but he was. This was going to be hard, he knew it. Nothing in his life had been easy and this wasn’t an exception. Having this camp was going to help, though. They weren’t on the road all the time now. It wasn’t how their life was at present. He was here most of the time, taking care of the people here, going only so far from the camp on jobs they heard about. This camp could give them a chance and one they wouldn’t have had otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

Frankly, Jo was glad Dean had come to the clearing for her. It was nice that he came down and wanted her to go to his cabin to live. However, she had to question whether he’d given this action enough thought or if he was acting on sheer impulse alone.

“No, I mean are you getting what that means for you here.” She sighed. “Sweetheart, I’m due any time.”

“Very aware of that, Jo.”

“There’s no guarantee this baby will sleep through the night soon. I’ll be getting up every couple hours to breastfeed, which means you’ll be waking up, too. A crib would need to be in here to be safe. You won’t get rest. And what about Sam? The baby will wake him up, too.”

“Nothing wakes Sam up these days. The meds keep him half asleep most of the time. Hard price to pay for no hallucinations. He’s like a freakin’ zombie. Romero, not real, shuffling around here.”

“It’d be better if I had a cabin, maybe with mom. I could go --”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my wife.”

He was going to bring up Castiel’s proclamation whenever it was convenient for him, wasn’t he? “We’re not married. Castiel said it, but that doesn’t mean --”

“My wife,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you believe we’re not together, then why are you still wearing the rings?”

“Why are you?”

He didn’t answer and Jo understood that what she was seeing in his eyes was a desperate sort of hope. She was a lifeline for a man drowning in problems. He hadn’t removed the ring because he’d been clinging to the idea that she was alive and her appearance had given him something to hold on to that was right there with him. She glanced down at her stomach, then at her own hand. It was the same with her. Finding him had been her lifeline. She understood why he still wore the ring because it was the same reason she’d continued to wear hers. They were twins in this matter. “Okay. I’ll stay as long as you grasp that things will be different with the baby here. We won’t be able to go back to how we were. We’ll have the baby --”

“I know. I get it, Jo. I know you think I don’t, but I do.” He glanced at the door. “You feel like some exercise? I could show you some of the camp, let you stretch your legs. We’ll play catch-up. We need to.”

“Sure.” Exercise would be good and now that they were at the camp, it wouldn’t matter if the walking made her go into labor like Morgan had feared it would before.

She strolled along the fence with him.

“I’ll start with Bobby. You’re probably wondering where he is, right?”

“I was going to ask when we had a minute.” She’d been afraid to ask, to be honest, much like that fear she’d seen when Dean had asked about Ellen.

“He died a couple months after we all left. Castiel didn’t kill him, but his church hurt him pretty bad that day we left. Put him back in the wheelchair and you remember how much he loved that. Church went back a couple months later and finished the job about the time Sam and I were watching Castiel get a spanking by God. That’s what Jimmy thinks anyway. It’s how we got Jody with us. She was down in the panic room. He’d ordered her to go down and get safe while he took out as many as he could. She’d lost her job and I guess she was feeling a little lost anyway. He was teaching her how to hunt.”

She nodded and went directly to what she wanted to know. “Dean…. Why do you tolerate Castiel here?”

“Because it’s not him. I told you earlier. It’s not him. A part of it is, I guess. He peeks out on occasion. Mostly though, it’s Jimmy. Jimmy keeps control.” He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, then reopened them. “We forgot about Jimmy, Jo. Sam and I. We forgot. How could we forget there was a person trapped in there with him?”

“It was only Castiel you saw and talked with, right?”

“No. That’s the thing. Sam and I met Jimmy once. I ever tell you that? We met Jimmy and his family, too.” He stopped walking and leaned against the fence. “Sometimes I wonder about this divine judgment on Castiel. It’s cruel for Jimmy. He’s suffering because of it. I have trouble making sense of that sometimes. How is it justice if Jimmy is suffering?”

“Tell me about Jimmy.”

He shrugged. “What’s there to tell? Jimmy drinks. Not surprising, is it? I think we all do, except Sam and he’s always in la-la land. Jimmy is strange. He feels a lot of guilt for a guy who was sitting back watching, unable to do anything. Sleeps a lot. Sometimes smokes weed that he harvests in the woods. Occasionally, he’ll take a handful of pills from the infirmary and need his stomach pumped. We’ve got locks on the supplies now and he’s not allowed in there by himself.”

“He trying to overdose?”

“That’s my theory. He denies it. Insists they were accidents, but how can taking a handful of pills be an accident? It’s like he just doesn’t get the consequences. I don’t know. I wonder if it’s Cas, you know? Whispering to him like the Lucifer hallucination does to Sam, influencing him to do things bad for himself.”

Or perhaps Castiel himself still not understanding that actions had consequences that could hurt him? Jo didn’t say it and had nothing to support that idea save her strong feeling from earlier. She’d have to have a talk with Jimmy and see what came to light then.

“I don’t think I even really care.” He sighed. “Sam…he’s taking his meds and,” leaning his head back, he appeared to weigh something in his mind before continuing, “sometimes his powers are back. It’s sporadic and doesn’t last long, but I never thought I’d see him with those again.”

Powers? Jo vaguely remembered hearing something about Sam and powers yet couldn’t remember what. Dean mentioned it like he thought she knew all about them.

“He can pull those PD’s right out and burn them like he used to demons before killing Lilith fried it all out of him.”

She took a step closer to him.

“Though maybe they only went dormant. Must be the case since they’re back. First time he did that to a PD, it was like a flashback for me only this is all Sam. There’s no Ruby feeding him bullshit and blood and changing him. This is Sam and I don’t know what to think about that. He was pulled clean when Cas raised him, just like me, you…. He shouldn’t have the infection still in him that let Ruby get a hold on him. His powers, Jo. They’re back and if he doesn’t have that infection in him it means they really were his from birth. How do I deal with that along with everything else?” He shook his head.

Jo remained silent, letting him talk.

He leaned against the fence. “It surprised both of us when it happened, too. We were out, him and me, and a PD showed up. Sam moved like he’d seen it before it was even there. Hand raised and boom.” Dean gestured, hand open, then closing into a fist. “Pulled it right out before it could go all the way in and hurt the person. It made this sound like a jackal crying and burned. Left a smoking ashy spot on the sidewalk.” His laugh held no humor to it. “Sam stood there stunned, said it was instinct, that it felt different than when he did it before.”

“Different?” She leaned as well, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“No sense of power in it. It was merely an ability, like reading or writing. Scared him pretty bad, too. Took several days before he’d say anything about it. I don’t know what to think. Is it something that’ll help us or something that’ll send Sam back down a bad path?” Reaching out, he took her hand in his and studied it, running the fingers of his other hand over it. “How do I deal with it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “but I’ll help you if I can.”

He looked her over and released her hand. “You ready to go back?”

Jo nodded. He’d given her a lot to think about. “Yeah. I need to lie down for awhile.” They hadn’t gone very far from Dean and Sam’s cabin. If she hadn’t been pregnant, they would have walked over the entire camp talking, but he’d been considerate to her condition. Strange for a man who was claiming not to care about much anymore.

They started back.

After a few steps, Jo asked, “Morgan showed you the diaries, didn’t she? That’s why you came down to the clearing.”

“She did. She said I needed to understand a few things.”

Jo bit her lower lip. “I wanted to talk to you so badly, to hear your voice. I think your picture is about falling apart. The camera was the only way I had to tell you what I wanted you to know.”

“Has it been too hard for you, Jo?”

“I’ve had friends. Mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

She saw his attention turn to her stomach. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?” He sounded surprised by that.

“No. I’ll admit I was upset at first. Didn’t know what I was going to do. Mom made me sit down and think everything out. I made plans for if we found you right away and if we didn’t, which…we didn’t. And I thought if I never saw you again, I’d have our baby with me. Morgan and mom helped. They kept me talking about you and me, looking forward. So, I’m not sorry.” Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, stopping him. “You said we weren’t done. That night. You said that. Remember?”

“Yeah, but you might not still want me as I am now,” he cautioned.

“Do you still want me as I am?” She pointed a finger at her stomach. “Belly and all? Baby and all?”

“Yes.” Dean stepped close, hands moving to her waist. He slid them around to her back, caressing. “We aren’t done. I meant it.”

“Then I’m holding you to it.”

Inside, she laid down on the bed and quickly drifted into sleep.

Chapter 25

Purgatory demons were no more cooperative than hell demons and were even more apt to squabble and bicker over the tiniest thing. Hard to believe, yet completely true. Meg discovered that over her months-long partnership with one of the very first changed souls Castiel had loosed from himself. It actually began to drive her crazy how some of them wouldn’t stick to a host, bouncing around and generally causing trouble when they were supposed to be working towards common goals. Nor were they willing to follow orders without being threatened or bribed in some way.

Just what the world needed, more demons behaving like…demons.

“Stick to a damn host already,” she’d tell them and, “follow your orders.”

Some did stay in their hosts and she’d begun to distinguish between the broad types of the creatures by the way they behaved and the characteristics they exhibited. Purgatory demons were as different within their levels as hell demons were and there was a hierarchy between them as well. The natives were at the top, the former humans changed in the middle, and those born as monsters at the bottom.

The ones that didn’t change their host’s genetic makeup very much when they took them over were the Purgatory natives, ones who’d possessed humans in their natural forms and already held similar characteristics to what they had become through Castiel. They were highly intelligent, cunning, and many gave some higher up hell demons a run for their money in the wicked department. Not all of them, however. A few seemed to wish to blend back in to human society and escape into anonymity, a thing lost to them because of Castiel. When they took hosts, they kept them. The one she’d been working with was a native and hell-bent on finding Castiel, even obsessed by it.

She understood obsession very well.

Meg wondered why they called themselves natives if all monster souls went there. Had they somehow been created in Purgatory? Had the Mother of All experimented while in there? It raised intriguing questions as to the sort of place Purgatory was, but Meg doubted she’d get any answers and it didn’t really matter anyway. It wasn’t like she was planning actually going there herself.

Purgatory demons who changed their host’s makeup completely and had no focus to remain in a host were the lower tiers of monsters when they’d been on earth, the ones born to it and only concerned with mayhem and madness to begin with, which could account for why they drove hosts insane. They were the most dangerous in Meg’s opinion and she considered them little more than animals to be carefully controlled and directed, much like Daevas.

She’d been experimenting with Zoroastrian symbols as a means to control them like she had Daevas, but with little success. It had been a long-shot anyway. She’d hoped that since the creatures were similar that the same symbols would have an effect.

And then there were the ones who were waiting and watching, circling the earth and only occasionally taking hosts, the ones the native leaders identified as having been the humans turned monster, their humanity stripped away to the point that they couldn’t go to heaven or hell, only Purgatory. The former vampires, werewolves, and other creatures, some remembering what they’d once been and others too old to remember. They were the powerful ones, the ones who manifested powers and when they took a host, the host did change, but only when the creature was in it. When they left their hosts, they left them catatonic, yet looking human once more.

Meg had seen it happen several times. It was fascinating to watch. Did the host ever recover? She’d yet to see one come out of it, but that didn’t mean it never happened. It only meant she hadn’t seen it happen.

That category was the most like hell demons, with some similar powers. They really were cousins after all and all of the categories had similar weaknesses to hell demons. Meg theorized that the knife the Winchesters had and the Colt Crowley had made off with could effectively kill them. Possibly. It’d remain a theory until she proved it otherwise. She’d have to obtain both the knife and gun and maybe some day soon she would.

She’d determined quickly that she was going to have to be as much of a tyrant as Azazel had been if she was going to be successful and had instituted a similar threat system to what he’d had enforced. She used the threat of being tossed back into Purgatory to keep them in line and was trying to figure out how to open a door back into it. The door Castiel had used wasn’t available, so Meg was determined to make her own door if she had to rip it open. Thus far, a number of the creatures didn’t realize she couldn’t carry out her threats.

In the meantime, there were silver and iron that hurt them. Meg had enjoyed discovering all the ways to hurt them and she’d been experimenting with symbols and rituals, using her knowledge and the knowledge of a few of the PD’s themselves to figure out their weaknesses. Meg was pleased with her progress on that front. She thought she had a firm grasp of them as a whole, definitely more so than anyone else running around.

What she wasn’t pleased with was the progress in finding Ellen and Jo Harvelle. Her human power base had to be completely incompetent if they couldn’t find two women because they outnumbered them by thousands. She was suspecting some of them of hiding the two and not reporting sightings. It was possible. Without Castiel showing up all the time healing the sick or talking at the world about love and caring, people were falling away and going back to their former religions. They were being completely fickle humans and with whatever spells Castiel had been using on the world fading away, she was losing numbers. Even her assurances that he was still watching them wasn’t helping. What people needed was a live sighting and soon.

She was also displeased with her demon hunters. It pissed her off not a little that her supposedly well trained teams were far less effective as a whole than the two Winchester brothers. Sad really, that two men dispatched more demons in various ways than several trained teams.

Still, she was Queen Bee. She was head of the Church of Castiel, had a sort of control over the PD’s as a whole and a partnership with one, and she was gaining control of world agencies through both of those. One way or another, the earth was hers. Now, she just needed to move forward on the hell front.

Crowley was in hiding, possibly back in hell, sticking his head out occasionally to thumb his nose at her and send her messages about how unworried he was about her ‘little army’. She was ready to kill him the second he looked out again.

The office door opened and a voice sounded behind her. “I found him.”

Meg turned. In the doorway was a girl and she motioned her forward. “Found who?”

“Him, of course. Castiel. I found him and you won’t believe where he’s been hiding.”

“Where?” The girl relayed the information and Meg smiled. “A camp with the Winchesters. How surprising.” She’d expected them to kill him, not keep him with them. What were they up to? Dean had to have a plan if he’d kept Castiel alive.

“Have I proven myself?” The girl’s eyes flashed black.

“Of course,” she reassured the demon and made a mental note to have her taken care of before she left the building. Meg made that call as soon as the demon stepped from the room, then made another call. “We’re doing a special broadcast this afternoon. It’s very exciting news we have to tell the world. Castiel is returning to us.” She smiled wide as she made arrangements for the broadcast and other arrangements for bringing him back to Sioux Falls.

Bringing him back to her. She couldn’t wait to see her former angel again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo fell asleep nearly the second she laid down on the bed and Dean drew the covers up over her. She looked good and he thought she looked healthier overall than both Morgan and Ellen. He sat at the bedside, admiring her determination to survive despite the handicap her pregnancy had been.

She’d survived this crappy new world, the PD’s, and pursuit by the CoC, with narrow escapes with the latter two. Jo had mentioned in one of those videos that Morgan was sure they’d had divine intervention on a few of the CoC encounters. Members had looked right at them and let them go like they hadn’t even seen them. Dean both wanted to hear everything that had happened over the months and didn’t. She was here now, so did he need to know about all of the close calls? He was curious though, and knew he’d be telling her all about the months here at the camp.

Knuckles rapped on the open door and he looked up to see Sam standing there. “How is she?”

“Surprisingly good for having been out there in her condition.” Getting up, he went into the living area, closing the door behind him so they could talk without disturbing Jo’s nap.

“Kind of a shock, her being pregnant.” His words were only slurring a tiny bit and Dean was glad he wasn’t out of it today.

Sitting on the couch, he stretched his legs out. “Not entirely a shock,” he admitted. “That last night…we weren’t too careful.”

“You? Not careful?” Sam dropped into the chair across from him. “That doesn’t happen.”

“I know, right? We weren’t though. I should have been. I know better, but…it didn’t seem to matter at the time and now she’s here and there’s a baby on the way.” He sighed and crossed his arms. “Man, I’m still trying to figure this whole thing out. A baby. I’m a dad. Me. How is that going to turn out well? Kid has the odds stacked against it before it even comes out.”

“Still trying? Dean, you haven’t even known about the baby for half a day yet. Might take longer than that. Give yourself a break.”

Sam meant to encourage him and, while he appreciated the effort, Dean knew very well that he didn’t have the luxury of time. This baby was going to come soon, maybe within the week, and he had to be ready for that day. Jo needed him to be ready and so did that baby. “I don’t have longer, Sam. According to Morgan, she’s ready to pop any day.” He waved one hand in the air to emphasize the words. “I don’t have time. Jo’s scared to death. Her words even, and I can’t be scared, too. She needs me strong.”

“I think it’s okay to be scared.”

“Might be okay for regular guys, but not for me. I can’t be scared when she needs me strong. Jo needs me to support her and I want to do right by her, you know? I wasn’t there these months and I need to be now.”

“She’ll be glad to hear that.”

He licked his lips. “A baby, Sam.” Dean mimed holding a baby. “A little, helpless, tiny baby.”

“You like kids and they like you. Now, if it was me, I’d be in big trouble. Kids aren’t exactly my thing.”

Sam didn’t need kids in his condition anyway. He jiggled one foot. “I need to talk to Morgan again, find out a few more things. Stay here? If Jo wakes up before I get back, tell her I had to run an errand.”

He found Morgan on one path not far from his cabin. She was chatting with Jimmy and Mindy, Jimmy’s ‘friend’. Dean asked Morgan to accompany him to the infirmary in order to make sure they had everything they’d need for the birth. The conversation as they did that inventory turned out to be something of an eye opener regarding Morgan herself.

“This camp is a gift, you know.” She ran a finger along the shelf, then tapped that finger by one stash of bottles and nodded. “Perfect. We’ll need this one here for after.”

“It’s a what,” he asked. No one had called the camp a gift before.

“A gift from God,” she clarified, carefully closing the door and locking it. “Have you picked up any diapers, formula, bottles, and things like that?”

“A gift from God,” he repeated. “It’s not a gift from God, Morgan. It’s a camp put together by a team of determined men and women.” Dean stepped to one stack of boxes and tapped the side of one. “There’s some in here. Jody might have more put aside elsewhere. Check with her.”

“It’s that…and it’s obviously from God as well.” She pointed at the next cabinet. “Unlock this one? I’ll talk to Jody later tonight.”

“How is it obvious?” He unlocked it and stood back so she could look inside.

“For one thing, how do you just happen to have everything Jo will need to give birth in comfort? Look around this room. Dean, you’ve got this place stocked as well as the maternity ward at the small hospital my patients went to most of the time. I couldn’t ask for a better place for her.”

“It made good sense to take the ambulances and supplies from the local hospital,” he argued. “It was abandoned after the tornados, then the area got caught in the quarantine. They weren’t allowed to come back and as far as I know, still aren’t. They couldn’t get their equipment out. It was all there and meant to be used anyway. We took it to use.”

“Your team just decided to lift neonatal equipment? You have a transportable incubator, an infant bassinet, a baby weighing scale…. Need I go on?”

He couldn’t explain those and had been baffled when Jimmy, Jody, and the team had brought that haul back. They’d been proud of themselves for it, too. “They’re efficient and wanted to be prepared for anything. That means babies, too. There are other pregnant women out there.”

“Okay.”

It sounded like she didn’t believe him and he leaned against the counter along one wall.

She crouched down, peered at the lower shelves of the cupboard, then stood back up. “You go with that explanation and I’ll go with mine.”

“You’re seeing God where He isn’t.”

“Am I?” Slowly, she closed the doors. “I have faith that He took care of me, Jo, and Ellen and that He’ll continue to do so. It’s a miracle that we survived. I pray when things go well and when they don’t. I prayed constantly for a place like this when we were traveling.” She raised her hands and gestured all around the room. “Here we are, Dean. A place exactly like what I prayed for.”

Praying. Geez. Maybe she would be a good match for Sam. They could pray together, since Sam still prayed even after everything.

He never did broach the other subject he’d been wanting to ask about, too thrown off about her insistence that this was all God’s work to ask about sex. Probably, he shouldn’t be thinking about having sex with Jo at this point in her pregnancy, but it’d be nice to know if he even could.

He spent a quiet evening with Jo in the cabin, cooking a light meal for them both from the supplies he had on hand there. Sam bowed out, claiming he was going to play cards with Jody and Morgan at Ellen’s cabin and keep them company. Dean and Jo went to bed early, with none of the awkwardness he’d thought might be there.

Moving closer in bed so that he was pressed against her, Dean touched her cheek. His fear was that he was asleep and dreaming and he’d wake to find her still missing. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” she confirmed, covering his hand with hers. Jo grasped his hand and lowered it to her belly, laying it palm down. “We’re here.”

Beneath his palm, he felt the baby kick and sat up, lifting his hand in time to see the skin push up and lowering his hand to feel a third kick. “He’s kicking.” He’d felt babies kick before. Lisa’s sister had been big on letting everyone and anyone feel her stomach when her baby kicked, but this was completely different. This was his own child.

“Baby kicks a lot these days.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Doesn’t hurt at all.”

They talked in the quiet, dark room and he fell asleep with Jo cradled in his arms for the first time in months.

His dreams were mild and when he woke in the morning, he declared it a beautiful day without even looking outside. Even if it really wasn’t a beautiful morning, Dean was determined it was.

Carefully, he got out of bed, trying his best not to disturb Jo. Dean dressed as fast as he could and left the cabin. A quick look in at Ellen found her resting a lot better, though Morgan wasn’t happy with the state of her broken leg. They discussed the actions they might need to take and when they’d agreed, he headed towards the dining hall. His plan was to bring a tray back for Jo and to give her the pampering she deserved. After her months of running and hiding while pregnant, she deserved to be pampered even more than he would have otherwise.

Dean was feeling more relaxed and cheerful than he had since he’d thought Castiel was dead and finally gone. Jo and Ellen arriving safely was like a weight off his shoulders and with the baby coming, he hoped things would start improving.

Sam and Jimmy waved at him from one table and he stopped there.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he told them.

Sam smiled and stirred his oatmeal. Dean thought Sam was the only one who actually ate the oatmeal on a regular basis. Not once had he actually seen anyone else eating it.

Jimmy glanced at the window, then at him, his gaze a little puzzled. “It’s going to rain any time.”

“Maybe we need the rain. It’ll wash away things we don’t need anymore.”

“How’s Jo this morning,” Sam asked.

“Sleeping, but good. I can just tell.”

Jimmy cleared his throat. “You know, her and Ellen being here doesn’t solve anything really except them having been missing. We still have the CoC, the PD’s, and a decaying society to worry about and deal with.”

“Don’t be a Deputy Downer, Jimmy. Allow me one day of delusional thought before the real world slams into me again.”

“Deputy Downer…. Right. Um…. If that’s what you want, then…” He shrugged. “Everything is beautiful today.”

“There you go.” He jerked a thumb at the food line. “I need to get a few things and get back.”

He managed to return before it started pouring and was uncovering the tray when Jo woke up.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first night in the camp had been a good one. Jo stretched. The sheets beside her were still warm and she called out for Dean. He didn’t answer and neither did Sam peek in to say anything. She got up from the bed and went out into the living area. There was no one in the cabin aside from herself. Sam’s bedroom door was open, as was the bathroom door.

Jo made use of the bathroom and returned to bed. It was nice to lie down and be able to really rest instead of plan the quickest route out of there. So much of the tension she’d had was gone just by finding this place and seeing it was functioning. Even more was gone at the realization that Dean wanted to pick up where they’d left off even with the baby.

Closing her eyes, she drifted back to sleep and woke a short while later to find Dean rearranging items on a tray on the bedside table. She sat up and eased the pillows behind her back. “What’s that?”

His glance was affectionate. “Breakfast.”

“I could have gone to the dining hall.”

“I didn’t get to spoil you all these months so I have to do it now.”

“Would you have spoiled me?”

He uncovered a plate, gaze sliding sideways to her. The emotion she saw in his eyes brought a lump to her throat. “Yes. Spoiled, pampered…. Whatever word you want to use for it.”

She had no doubt he would have, too.

“It’s not a big breakfast, but I remember you don’t eat much in the morning anyway. Toast, apple butter, and bacon.” He looked her over. “You want it in bed or would you rather have it in the other room?”

“The other room might be best unless you want crumbs everywhere. My coordination hasn’t been the best the last couple weeks.”

They ate at the small table by the kitchen area. Dean’s plate held considerably more than hers.

“Have you seen mom this morning?”

“First thing. Her fever has broken and she’s resting pretty well. She won’t be happy later, though. She needs a real cast and we might have to re-break her leg.”

“You have the stuff for casts?”

“Yeah.”

“Some well-stocked ambulance you stole.”

“We looted a couple doctor’s offices and pharmacies, too. A small private hospital. The towns closest had a lot of useful things for us. The government hasn’t given anyone real permission to come back to a couple of these towns, yet. We didn’t bother asking for permission. When Sam picked this place out we’d just hoped for someplace that might be safe for a few weeks.”

“Sam picked it out?”

“He did. We were all studying maps and he pulled out the one of this area and zeroed in. Jody and Jimmy did a thorough sweep, checked out the towns, and started moving in and making plans. We spent a lot of time on the phone back then, when cell service was still good most places.”

Towers had been destroyed all over the country and now most people didn’t bother with trying their cell. Landlines had made something of a comeback in some areas.

“You want to see more of the camp today,” he asked, pushing his plate away.

“I’d like that.” She took a drink of water and considered everything else she wanted to get done. “I need to double check the van, too. I sort of grabbed yesterday. Not sure I got everything. Mom’ll need her bag, too, unless you took it to her later. I didn’t see it when I was at her cabin yesterday.”

“We only took her, not her things. Maybe Morgan got it this morning.”

“I’ll ask.”

“We’ll do those two things and you can spend the rest of the day relaxing.”

“It’s been so long since I could relax, I don’t know what to do with myself.” She set her empty plate on his and stacked their silverware together. “Do you wash these here or take them back to washed there?”

“Take them back. You could try sleeping. I’m sure you’re sleep deprived.”

“A nap or two might be in order,” she acknowledged. “I’d like to talk to Jimmy today, too. Maybe this afternoon. Get to know him a little.” And see if she was imagining that sensation. She’d be relieved if it was just Jimmy, yet Jo had a feeling there was more going on than Jimmy was telling them.

“Not a bad idea, Jo.”

“I agree. It’s a pretty good idea.”

Jo showered and dressed. She felt calm and peaceful, happy to be there. The baby wasn’t even giving her trouble, his kicks gentler than they’d been and outward rather than straight at her bladder like the past couple weeks. She hoped it was a sign that things were looking up.

Chapter 26

The rainstorm had been fierce and fast, bringing with it cooler temperatures and Sam zipped his jacket as he left the cabin he shared with Dean, now Jo, and soon to be the baby as well. When he’d arrived at the cabin, Dean was giving Jo a tour of the camp on paper, sitting at their table drawing her a map. The accuracy and detail he put into it showed how well he knew the area. He hadn’t simply patrolled it these past months, he’d memorized every detail, knew every landmark, and was now making sure Jo learned them as well.

Jo’s pregnancy brought something Dean needed to the camp. Even in his drugged state with a fuzzy mind Sam could see it. Dean’s gaze was hungry when he looked at her, like he was a kid who’d gotten free reign in a candy store and it was all he’d ever dreamed of and more. He was seeing those sorts of things he thought he’d never have because he’d failed to have them with Lisa.

Sam was glad. This camp was going to make the difference for Dean. It was a fairly stable environment, more so than they’d ever had and maybe having this baby could begin to heal some of Dean’s pain over Lisa and Ben. Sam liked Jo and the idea that he was going to be an uncle lifted his mood a little. He’d once thought that if he and Dean ever had kids they’d never know it, not with their lives.

But their lives were different now, Jo was here, and there was no doubt Dean was the father of that baby. Dean was going to get to experience time with his child and Sam thought that if he could manage keep his crazy out of the way, he’d enjoy being an uncle.

“This is a good thing,” Chuck said, keeping pace beside Sam as he walked to Ellen’s cabin. Out of all the hallucinations, Chuck was the one who’d remained the clearest under the drug. He’d talk to Sam, watch him, and usually proclaimed him not ready to see yet. As his presence never alarmed Sam, he never mentioned those visits to Dean, Jody, or Jimmy. It was the Lucifer ones he told them about. Sometimes, when he didn’t take the drug on time, Lucifer showed up.

According to Darla’s theory, didn’t that mean Lucifer haunted him? The drug didn’t keep him all the way gone, merely muffled. He really didn’t count Chuck. Chuck was the good one. Lucifer, on the other hand, was the bad one who’d screw with his head just because he could. Chuck had never done that.

But did it mean that Lucifer really haunted him or that his hallucinations were just that strong?

He nodded and stepped around a large puddle.

“It’s a wonderful thing to have a baby in the house. Makes a person think about changes that need to be made.” His stare was pointed, but Sam understood what he was saying. He thought Sam was going to want to finally see and deal with things he’d been hiding from. Too bad he had no idea what those things were. Chuck maintained he did know and was simply repressing the memories to protect himself.

“I suppose,” he replied in a whisper.

“Trust me, Sam. This is good.”

Maybe Chuck was right. Maybe it was time to try to deal with things. He didn’t want to be a danger to the baby at any time.

Chuck stopped outside Ellen’s cabin, not going in with him. Jody was there, sitting at the bedside and reading a book. She looked up when he came inside.

“Hey, Sam. How are you feeling today?”

“Decent. How’s Ellen doing?” The book in Jody’s hands was the same one he and Jimmy had been reading and he realized she was seriously going to crash their next book discussion like she’d been threatening for weeks. He was looking forward to that even. The more the merrier.

“Good. Her color’s good and she’s resting pretty well right now.”

“She been awake at all?”

“A little bit ago. She had some water, asked where she was, remembered who I am, and went back to sleep.”

“I’ll check back later,” he said, but didn’t move. He wanted to be there when she was awake. He’d missed those moments they’d had. While he’d heard Jo’s opinion of Morgan, he wanted Ellen’s insight before he met Morgan for that dinner they’d discussed.

Sam knew he could deal with a physical relationship if that was what Morgan wanted. The physical wasn’t the problem. It was the emotional aspect he wasn’t sure he could deal with and he didn’t want to hurt her. If they moved into emotional territory, he was going to have to share some things with her that might drive her away. It’d be good if Ellen could tell him he wouldn’t scare Morgan off. He didn’t see the sense in starting anything if he was going to drive her away when he revealed the full extent of his crazy and his life experiences.

Jody cleared her throat. “Yes, Sam?”

He pointed to the book. “You like it so far?”

“I’ve never been a fan of horror novels, but this one is okay. Some heavy themes. Redemption, depression, desperation. You and Jimmy ever consider reading something light and funny?”

He laughed. “We read whatever Jimmy can pick up.”

“Well, Jimmy needs to pick up something lighter next time.”

“I’ll tell him.”

Jody dog-eared her place in the book and set it aside. “Why don’t you go get Ellen something to eat? Morgan said she could have bland foods like applesauce until we’re sure she can keep them down.”

“Sure.” When he brought the tray back, Ellen was awake and Jody was helping her to sit up so she could eat.

“I think I could eat a horse,” Ellen commented, her voice hoarse.

“Not unless it’s been put through a blender first,” Jody replied, humor in the words. “Morgan’s orders.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Girl worries too much. I’ve got an iron stomach and always have.” She stretched out a hand. “Get over here, Sam, and let me look at your sorry ass.”

“Yes, ma’am. Glad to see you awake.” He set the tray down on the table, then sat on the bedside and let her hug him.

When he leaned back, she cupped his face with both hands. “Damn glad to see you. Jo and I --”

“I know. We missed you, too.”

Her claim to have an iron stomach appeared to be true and soon her small meal was done. Sam and Jody talked to her while she ate and Sam saw the curiosity in Ellen’s eyes as he talked. Soon, she was going to ask about his slurred speech and slower manner. It was a certainty, so he might as well get it out of the way.

“It’s the medication,” he told her.

“What is,” Ellen asked in a careful tone, maneuvering slowly back down to how she’d been lying earlier.

“The speech, the --”

Jody reached over to help her, her voice calm. “The dose he’s taking keeps the hallucinations at bay and any lower dose we’ve tried doesn’t work on the worst of them. Since Sam’s doctor dropped off the grid completely, he’s stuck with it. We’re not sure what happened to the guy. He disappeared like a lot of people have. No one’s wanted to mess with what’s been working.”

“Oh. How are you feeling about that, Sam?” Ellen laid her head back and took his hand in hers. Her grip was strong and he realized that, if Jo was a lifeline right now for Dean, Ellen was one for him.

He let his shoulders droop. “This is my life now. It sucks, but it doesn’t suck any worse than any of the other sucky moments I’ve had. It’s better than being soulless or being stuck in the cage, so I’d say I’m doing okay right now. It’s not perfect, but I’m alive.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Can you hunt?”

“With my slow reaction times? You want to trust me with a gun? Dean would, of course, but I won’t endanger anyone in case…. Like the driving.” He saw Jody and Ellen exchange a long glance and wondered what that was all about.

Ellen gave his hand a last squeeze. “I need to rest again for a bit, but come back later this afternoon. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He made a promise to return and left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel received an invitation from Jo to meet her at the dining hall around two. It was Sam who gave him the verbal invitation on the walk to lunch. He told Castiel that Dean and Jo were already behaving like they had before they’d all split up. Cas guessed that was a good thing. He remained uncertain to this day when Dean and Jo’s relationship had become real. He knew now that it had been gradual, but the when escaped him. They’d pretended more between them until one day it had been the truth.

They’d pretended well.

While he waited for the time to pass, he cleaned his cabin, and at ten to two, he walked to the dining hall.

Morgan and Jody were at one table, along with Mindy, whose hair was now an unnatural shade of red, and three men Castiel vaguely recognized. They had a lively conversation going.

Jo was at another table. It looked like she was wearing one of Dean’s button down shirts over her t-shirt.

He wondered where Dean was and approached her. “Hi, Jo.” That was one of Dean’s shirts.

“Jimmy. You’re right on time.”

“Yes. Where’s Dean?”

“Were you expecting him with me? I thought we could talk, just the two of us.”

And a room full of people as witnesses, he noticed. “I thought he’d be with you.” He made a motion at her stomach. “The baby.”

“Oh. He had some things to take care of. I told him to go ahead.” She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t sure where the tea was or I would have gotten us something already.”

“I don’t mind doing it. You should rest anyway.”

She raised a hand in an invitation for him to go ahead.

He saw Jo’s eyes narrow and knew he needed to be vigilant during this talk. He prepared herbal tea for them both and took a mug to her. “Here. Apple cinnamon.” She’d watched him the entire time and he’d made sure not to turn his back on her, letting her see he only put water and a tea bag in the mug.

“Thanks…Jimmy.”

“You’re welcome.” He no longer bothered raising and lowering the pitch of his voice. It had taken all these months, but he’d let his pitch drop back down as Jimmy until he was speaking in his normal voice. Castiel doubted anyone remembered Jimmy’s voice had once been higher.

She ran a finger along the rim of the mug. “Dean said you spend a lot of time with Sam.”

“I spend a lot of time with both of them and Jody as well, but yes, I do spend time with Sam.” He was living with the damage he’d done to each of these people both directly and indirectly, his penance. Dean, Sam. Jody. Now Ellen and Jo. Even Bobby. Bobby’s death was on him because it had been his church that had killed him.

He paid a daily price and tried to be useful in camp, to keep Sam’s mind and body active. He gave Sam books to read, picking up more whenever he had a chance outside the camp, and then discussed them with him, a tactic to keep him healthy mentally. They were a book club of two and lately Jody and a few others had been making noises about joining them in discussions. He kept a constant game of chess going between them, made sure Sam ate, and that he took walks and exercised, and he always told Sam how sorry he was that Castiel had destroyed his peace.

Castiel had been a fool, wise in his own eyes, and had lacked the ability to divine the far-reaching consequences of all he’d done. He’d hurt Dean many times over and caused Sam to become the shell he was today.

“I do what I can,” he told her. “Castiel made a lot of mistakes.”

“And you’re trying to clean them up.”

“Something like that.”

“How is it your responsibility? I mean, if you were just sitting back unable to stop Castiel --”

“I’ll fix what I can of what he did.”

“Doesn’t explain why it’s your responsibility.”

“He’s in here,” he admitted, as close to the truth as he could manage. “Powerless and regretful.”

“Regretful,” she repeated. Her gaze remained cool and calm. “What’s he regretful about?”

“Everything.”

“Really. I doubt that.”

He should have expected her skepticism, yet he hadn’t and it hurt that she didn’t believe him for he was sorry for all he’d done. He’d learned how each of his actions had hurt people and the world. “Why do you doubt it?”

“Because Castiel was selfish. He only thought about what he wanted and needed. I know, I know.” She raised a hand briefly. “He claimed he was doing it all for Dean. I don’t think he was. I think he was doing it all for self, making himself feel good and important and powerful. If he’d really been doing anything for Dean he would have kept his promise to heal Sam, put the souls back in Purgatory, and started cleaning up the mess he’d already made instead of making more messes. He would have listened to friends when they told him to stop and he never would have hurt Sam in the first place. He knew what Sam means to Dean.”

Castiel let his glance turn to the liquid in his cup. He could feel his hands starting to shake and tried to slide them down onto his lap without her noticing the shaking.

“He would have left me and my mother where we were instead of raising us and putting demands on me and Dean both that he had no right to demand.”

“You don’t like being alive again?”

“Not the issue, Jimmy. Of course I like being alive and I’m living life the best I can in all circumstances. The issue here isn’t me, it’s Castiel. If he had the love and bond he kept claiming with Dean, he wouldn’t have done those things he did. Maybe he did have those at one point, but as soon as he started rationalizing and doing things for his own gain, for self alone, he lost that. He became selfish and fed that with each action.”

“And you think he could never regret.”

“The last version of Castiel I saw was still concerned with covering his own ass, so based on that version…no.”

The hell of it was that she was right. He blinked. At that point, he’d been more concerned with hiding how far everything had gone wrong than with anything else. Self, as Jo put it. He’d been concerned for himself.

“So, forgive me if I can’t quite believe the regret yet.”

“He regrets giving you pain, Jo. The humiliation and threats. He’s sorry he hurt you --”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, he isn’t. He’s sorry he got caught playing in his father’s sandbox. When he can wash my feet and kiss them without a thought other than the task itself, then I might believe he’s sorry.”

It took a moment for him to get her meaning. She meant that Castiel needed to have a servant’s role and give up self altogether. While he thought he’d been doing that for months, he understood then that he hadn’t. It was like a light bulb going off inside his brain. He’d still been doing everything he had with an eye towards his own redemption and self. His helping Sam, Dean, and Jody. His helping in the camp itself. He’d never given up ‘self’, merely shifted the primary focus.

What he’d been doing these months wasn’t servant hood and it appeared he hadn’t learned that lesson he’d been supposed to learn that day at Dean’s gravesite. It made him sick to his stomach to understand. “Will you give him a chance?”

She studied him and, just when her stare became uncomfortable, she looked away. “Dean thinks you’re mostly Jimmy. So does Sam, and I’m guessing everyone else here does as well.”

He didn’t confirm or deny his identity. Instead, he waited for whatever else she was going to say.

“So, I’ll call you Jimmy, but….” Her gaze returned to him. “I think you’re more Castiel than any of them know and I’ll be watching you. His chance has to be earned. You see,” Jo leaned forward as far as she could with her stomach in the way, “Dean and Sam aren’t the only ones who do just about anything to protect those they love. If I find out you’re here to hurt them in any way, I’ll end you. Don’t think I can’t just because I’m pregnant or because I’m going to have a baby. I’m still a hunter and I’m still a damn good shot.” She sat back. “Something to consider...Jimmy.”

Slowly, Jo got up from her chair and left her still full mug on the table. He watched her go to the table Morgan was at and, within a few minutes, the two women had left the dining hall.

Mindy joined him when they were gone, pulling out the chair beside him and sitting in it. “Is something wrong, Jimmy?”

He smelled the faint scent of hair dye. “You went red.”

“Like it?” She twirled a few strands about one finger. “I needed a change. Haven’t been red in years.”

“It’s different.” And it unfortunately reminded him of Anna. Mindy had chosen a similar shade to what Anna’s human body had had.

“I like change. You know that. So.” She rested her chin on her hand. “Some heavy talk it looked like you and Jo were having.”

“She’s sometimes forceful in how she words things.”

“I see. Nothing wrong with that.”

“No…. Mindy, what kind of person do you think I am?” He had a burning desire right then to know exactly how she viewed him.

She pursed her lips as she thought. “You mean besides complicated?” At his nod, she sighed. “Well, you have issues, your moods are as bad as Dean’s, if not worse, and you have the weirdest streak of naivety sometimes. A man your age should know some of these things, but overall, I’d say you’re a good guy.”

“Thanks. What does goodness get me?”

“In my pants.”

He looked down at his tea, annoyed by her playful answer.

“No, seriously, Jimmy, I’m the girl who goes after the guys most girls discard as too nice.”

“I’m too nice?”

“Not at the right moment, if you get my meaning.”

“I’m not flirting,” he told her with a rise of exasperation inside him. “I’m being completely serious. What does goodness get me in the end?”

Levity slipped from her green eyes and she reached out, rubbing a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Let’s take a walk and really talk about that.”

Their walk took them all around the camp and their talk was not the light sort he’d had with her before. This was heavy, even theological stuff on good, evil, forgiveness, redemption and sacrifice. Funny, in all the time he’d spent with Mindy, he’d never really talked to her before.

“Is redemption possible without letting go of self,” he asked. He knew the answer, but he needed to hear someone else say it and confirm it.

She grasped his hand in hers, linking their fingers together. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because the true redemption you’ve been talking about is possible only by forgetting self, by releasing it. You let it go and become someone new through an act of selflessness, sacrificing self in order to be redeemed. A man can’t be redeemed if he’s not willing to stop thinking about himself. To answer your question from earlier, goodness alone doesn’t get you squat in the end. A combination of goodness and sacrifice, however…. That can get you to redemption. Maybe not immediately, but eventually.”

“There can be no thought of how you can benefit in any way.”

“Right. It has to be completely without a thought for yourself. Say a man steps in front of a train to save a child. If he’s doing it with only the thought to save the child, then it could be a redemptive moment. If he does it with the thought of how good his press will turn out after, then it’s still all about him in his head. He’s made no sacrifice in any way.”

“So how does a man redeem himself if he doesn’t know how to let self go?”

“Doesn’t know how?”

“Say a man knew he needed to redeem himself, but he realizes that everything he thought he was doing to that end was still about self? He’d misled himself into believing he was working towards redemption.”

“Jimmy…. A man can’t work towards redemption. It’ll always return to self because he’s conscious of it and each step will be all about him.”

“Again, how does that man receive redemption then and what if it never comes?”

She didn’t have a chance to reply. A sharp cry on the path ahead interrupted them and they moved forward to see Jo and one of the men that was in her group. The man had a hold of her arm and was trying to drag her down the path towards the fence.

Castiel moved forward to intervene.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo walked towards her new home, arguing with Morgan all the while. “It’s five minutes, Morgan. Please. I haven’t had any time alone since we got here. Five minutes.”

“Jo, come on. You’re due --”

“Any time. So you keep reminding me. What can happen in five minutes?”

“You want a list?” After a moment, Morgan sighed. “Okay. Fine. But if you’re not back in five, I’m coming after you.”

“Mother hen.”

“Ellen’s not mobile to do it and I’m also a worried doctor.” She smiled. “Go. I’ll see if Sam’s there and wait for you with him.”

Jo moved down the path towards the vehicles. She was glad for a few minutes alone. Her chat with Jimmy had been interesting. He’d confirmed Castiel was in there, so that feeling she got around him was explained, but she still thought he wasn’t telling the entire truth. During that conversation, she’d never gotten the impression she was speaking to anyone other than Castiel himself. Jimmy had talked like him, moved like him, and looked at her the way Castiel had.

Dean claimed he wasn’t Castiel. She thought Dean was wrong.

The circle of vehicles was silent. Jo didn’t see anyone around. She went to the van and carefully got into the back, reaching for her mother’s bag and checking for any of her own things that had gotten left. It looked like she’d managed to grab everything. Stepping out, she picked up the bag and turned, sliding the door shut.

A hand grabbed her arm.

It was Gil. He was half smiling. “Hey, Jo.”

“Gil. Hi.” She tried to pull her arm away. He wouldn’t let go of her arm. “Let go.”

“No, I don’t think I will. You might try to run away and I can’t have that happening.”

“You’re hurting me.” His fingers dug into her skin.

“I think you can take a few bruises.”

“Let go!” She tugged again.

“Not until we talk about us.”

“Us? There is no us. There’s never been an ‘us’.” Why was he acting like this? She’d never encouraged him, barely even had a conversation with him. Morgan and Ellen had been the ones who’d talked to him.

“Of course there has. Who’s been protecting you for months, Jo? Not him. Not Dean. I’ve been protecting you. Where’s he been? Not with you. He didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“It’s not your business.”

He snorted. “You love him so much you never told him and now I’m supposed to buy that he’s the love of your life?”

“You have no idea what our situation is, now let go!” She could try punching, but half suspected he might punch her back. This must have been the reason Morgan and Ellen had done everything to keep Gil away from her. Jo had never been completely comfortable with him joining their group in the first place, yet he’d had skills they’d needed. He’d been an asset when he wasn’t staring at her in a totally creepy way.

“Who’s been seeing you have enough food? Me. I’m the one who’s been taking care of you and the baby and you’re leaving with me now. We have a very important appointment to make.”

“Release her.”

Jo turned her head. It was Jimmy who’d spoken. He stood on the path, Mindy, a girl Jody had introduced her to, with him. The two were holding hands, but as Jo watched, Jimmy unlaced their fingers and took a step forward. “I said release her.”

Gil’s smirk turned ugly. “Or what, angel?”

Angel? The word startled Jo. How did Gil know about that?

“I make you release her.” Jimmy started forward, only Jo would swear it was Castiel. His expression held that same intent of purpose she’d witnessed in Carthage as he’d moved towards the Reapers. She had every confidence that Jimmy…or Castiel…would deal with Gil.

Her arm was released and as she stumbled back, Jo felt a sudden lessening of pressure in her stomach and liquid soaking her legs. Following that release was a pain in her lower belly about a million times worse than any menstrual cramp she’d ever had. Jo cried out, hands pressing to the spot.

“Jo!” Mindy hurried to her, one arm going around her.

She tried to remember her breathing. It should be automatic as many times as Ellen and Morgan had made her practice, but it wasn’t. She couldn’t remember if she should pant or not.

This baby was coming and it was coming now.

Chapter 27

Mindy was stronger than she looked, keeping Jo steady and drawing her away from the two men as they began to fight in earnest. She urged Jo back towards the cabins and didn’t seem to be worried about Jimmy. “Come on, Jo. I’ll help you. Let’s leave the boys to fight this out.”

They made little progress. Jo wondered how some pregnant women could stroll along like nothing was happening. This freaking hurt!

The fight was over as fast as it had begun, Gil on the ground with his eyes closed and a concerned, yet slightly battered Jimmy coming towards Jo and Mindy.

“Are you okay,” he asked, wiping blood from his lip with the back of one hand.

“I’m in labor,” she gasped, afraid to move for fear that moving would cause more pain to ripple through her. “I need Dean.”

Jimmy stepped close. “We’ll find him.” He held out a hand. “Let me help.”

There was a movement behind him. Gil was back on his feet and moving forward, a cocky grin in place.

“Cas,” Jo cried in warning.

He turned, fist driving forward even as Mindy threw the contents of a small vial at Gil. Gil’s flesh sizzled, and he stumbled back, eyes flashing black for just a second.

“The king wants you and your baby. He’ll be coming for you, darling.” Black smoke shot from Gil’s mouth, the body dropping to the ground.

“Quick thinking, Mindy.” Jimmy crouched down, checking for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

Mindy nodded. “Thanks.”

“A demon? He was a freaking demon? We tested for that!” Another pain hit Jo, doubling her over. “Ohhh….” He’d mentioned the king. That meant Crowley unless some other demon had managed to depose him in the months that had passed.

“He may not have been one when you first met him.” Standing, Jimmy dusted off his hands. “Crowley once had one of Dean and Sam’s cousins possessed for months and the Campbell family took all the precautions as well.” Jimmy placed a hand on her back. “Mindy, go find Morgan, have her go to Dean’s cabin --”

“She’s already there.” Jo tried to stand up straight and found that she couldn’t. She really didn’t want to move at all. Even breathing seemed to make her ache already and this bent position eased some of that. What she wanted to do was curl into a little ball and scream for Dean.

“Tell her I’m bringing Jo back, apprise her of the situation, then find Dean and Jody in that order.”

Mindy ran back down the path.

He rubbed a hand across Jo’s lower back. It didn’t help, but it was a nice gesture. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t know. I’d rather not.”

“Then you should hang on to me,” he replied, lifting her into his arms.

She pressed her face to his chest. The last time Jo had been carried like this, it had been Dean carrying her and she’d been well on her way to dying. The pain now was just as intense in a different way. This pain meant life.

They were met at the cabin door by Sam, who took her from Jimmy and carried her on to the infirmary. He laid her on the bed Morgan had ready in one small room to the back of the building and remained bending, arm around her. “Want me to stay until Dean gets here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded and released her. “I’ll be right here.”

Morgan held out a stack of fabric. “Jo, let’s get you changed into this, then you can lie down again.” Behind the screen in the corner, she helped Jo undress and put on the gown.

“Hurts already,” Jo told her. “I didn’t think it’d hurt like this so fast.”

“It comes on some women like that. Once you’re situated, we’ll see if you’re dilated any yet.”

“I feel like I could push already.”

“Don’t do that until I tell you. Pushing before you’re dilated is a bad idea.”

“I know. I just…I want this over.”

Back on the table, and with her lower body draped by a large cloth, she held Sam’s hand. It wasn’t the same as Dean being there, but Jo knew he’d get there as soon as he could. She also knew Sam didn’t really want to be in there. It was obvious to her on how he avoided looking anywhere below her face.

Finally, she heard Dean in the main room and cried out for him. The relief on Sam’s face when Dean walked in the room would have made Jo laugh if she hadn’t been hit by another contraction.

Dean replaced Sam beside her as the contraction passed. Leaning down, he kissed her temple. “Breathe, Jo. Just breathe.”

His hand in hers felt comforting, his presence soothing. “I’m trying. Really hurts. When I was dying, there was this numbness eventually, but this is getting worse.”

His free hand brushed her hair back from her face in gentle strokes. “We’re in this together, remember? We promised each other that.”

Those words carried her through the next hours.

~~~~~~~~~~

The demon that had been Gil was going to be a problem. Castiel knew he needed to tell Dean immediately despite Jo being in labor. Dean had to be aware of the threat so he could make arrangements. When the door of the cabin banged open and Dean demanded where Jo was, Castiel grabbed his arm before he could head to the closed door at the back of the cabin.

“She’s in there but,” Castiel pointed, “we have a problem.”

Dean’s eyes opened wide. “Something’s wrong with Jo?”

“No,” he hurried to assure him. “It’s something else.”

“Can it wait? I need to get in there.” He looked at the closed door, a mix of fear and excitement on his face, and took off his jacket before beginning to roll up his shirtsleeves.

“I know, but it can’t wait. Crowley wants Jo and the baby.”

That got Dean’s full attention. “What?” His eyes narrowed. “How did he even know?”

“Gil’s a demon.”

“Gil? Gil who?”

“The guy in Jo’s group. The dark haired, bearded one. Mindy and I came upon him trying to drag Jo down the path to the gate. He’s a demon, or rather he was a demon. His body is down by the vehicles. The demon fled. I’d guess he alerted Crowley of Jo’s state. Crowley is smart. He would’ve figured out you were the father of her baby. Gil was likely keeping an eye on her for him. Crowley did know about you and Jo. Think about it. The child of a Winchester in the hands of the king of hell? He’ll be anticipating all the ways he can use it against you.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Dean,” Jo screamed from the other room.

“I bet we’ll be seeing Crowley soon. Within a few days anyway.” Not exactly news Castiel wanted to give as Dean was heading in to the birth of his child.

“Damn it.” Dean took a few steps towards the room and turned back. “You and Sam take care of initial preparations, get the people ready. Grab Jody to help when she’s done with whatever Morgan has her doing in here. I want the camp moving on this by the time I come out of this room.” He opened the door and went into the room without another look back.

“Will do.” Castiel felt a sense of purpose filling him, a sense that had begun as he’d sat with Ellen in the back of that van. It was a strong feeling that they’d been in limbo of sorts and stuck on pause and it was time to finally move forward. Events were in motion that couldn’t be stopped, almost like Jo and Ellen’s arrival had been the catalyst to cause it.

Sam emerged from the room, looking like he was glad to be out of there. He let out a whoosh of breath. “That,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder as the door shut, “isn’t something I want to see any more of.”

“Sam, I need your assistance.”

“Sure. With what?”

“Crowley is going to be coming here for the baby and possibly Jo as well, probably within a few days at most. We need to mobilize the forces.”

“Great, but, uh, has anyone told Ellen Jo’s in labor? She kind of needs to know.”

“Right. I don’t know. Probably not? We’ll go there first.”

Ellen’s reaction wasn’t exactly what Castiel expected -- to him or the news. While she eyed him with suspicion, she accepted Sam’s introduction, then demanded they pick her up and carry her to the infirmary so she could be there when the baby was born. He’d expected her to be rational and stay out of the way, waiting in her cabin until there was actual news. Not to mention she hadn’t been fever free for a full day yet and it wouldn’t be good for a newborn child to be exposed to anything.

In a bout of what seemed like mind reading, Sam shook his head. “Sorry, Ellen. No can do. You’re still on the mend and your fever hasn’t been gone very long. I doubt Morgan would approve. She won’t let you stay and you don’t want to chance getting the baby sick, do you?”

Irritation flashed in her eyes. “You’d better keep me updated as soon as anything happens or so help me, Sam --”

“I will.” He turned his head and motioned for Castiel to go. “Look, I’ll stay with you and go get an update every twenty minutes or so. Sound good?”

If they both left right now, Ellen was likely to drag herself to the infirmary. It would be best if Sam stayed and kept her in her cabin.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he told them.

Castiel left her to Sam and went on to talk to a few others that would help with the planning. Crowley could be counted on to come at the most inconvenient time possible. It was something of a special talent of his. They needed to have a sound plan ready for Dean’s approval the second he was able to step out of that room. When the bare bones were in place, he returned to Ellen’s cabin.

Ellen and Sam had their heads together over a map of the camp that appeared to have been drawn by Dean. Castiel recognized Dean’s handwriting on it. As he watched, Ellen ran a finger along the fence line.

“Iron posts and wire sprayed with Bobby’s favorite paint-salt combo?”

“We touch it up a lot.”

“Every little bit helps for defense, I guess. Too bad you don’t have a source for a ton of gargoyles to help on the PD front.”

“Why is that,” Castiel asked, moving towards the folding table they sat at. The table was a new addition to the room, as were the chairs. Ellen’s chair was close to the bed and her bad leg was propped on the bed itself.

“Well, when Jo and I were stuck in one town, I noticed a building that had gargoyles all along the upper level. There were eight gargoyles total, one on each corner and one placed in-between. I saw a PD go near it and react like a cat tossed in water as soon as it neared the building. They left that building alone.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t consecrated ground or something?”

“It was a courthouse, not a church, and had never been a church.”

“Interesting.” He crossed his arms.

“I agree. I’d heard of gargoyles being used as symbols of protection, but pretty much every hunter I’ve ever talked to about them said it was a bunch of superstitious bunk.”

“It is ‘bunk’,” he agreed, considering the idea coupled with everything he knew. “Gargoyles have no meaning to angels, demons, or other creatures, but….” Castiel thought back over history. “There was a rumor that in France in the mid-seventh century the door to Purgatory was opened. I have no facts for that, merely the rumor, and gargoyles began to be used in architecture about that time. You may be on to something, Ellen.” He’d thought it was merely a story, but what if it wasn’t?

“Garden center,” Sam said, tapping his fingers on the table top.

“Sam?” Ellen turned her head and looked at him.

“Garden center,” he repeated. “Gargoyles are a big garden thing, right? Like garden gnomes only garden gargoyles. I’ve seen them. They’re cheap plastic things, but they are gargoyles.”

Castiel nodded, thinking over the nearest towns and what was available there. “Town to the west has the biggest center. No telling how many are in their stock.”

“Four might be enough for a single structure,” Ellen said. “Not sure if it was the number present on that roof or the fact there they were there that did it.”

“We need more spray paint and salt anyway. Probably should pick up some baby things as well,” Castiel rationalized, already planning a list of items they could get while they were out. May as well make a good run.

“Look for….” Ellen snagged the pad of paper beneath the map. “I’ll just make you a list. Oh, and in one of our vehicles, Morgan and I had a stash of baby things we were going to surprise Jo with. Ask Kaitlynn where it went.” When she’d finished writing, she held it out. “Not saying you should get everything on this list, just get what you can. Priority is at the top.”

“I’ll get a team together and head on out.”

Ellen studied him a long moment. “Be careful and come back safe…Jimmy.”

“I’ll do my best, Ellen.”

Castiel split his team into two groups. The first went to find the items on Ellen’s list and the second looked for garden gargoyles. Ellen’s items were the easiest to find. The gargoyles took some work, but they lucked out on two big boxes of them in the stockroom of the garden center. Upon returning, he had the boxes carted to the infirmary and the rest to Dean and Sam’s cabin before he and a few men got started on their project.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waking in a cabin had been mildly disconcerting to Ellen, but it was nothing compared to having Castiel walk through the door of that cabin hours later calling himself Jimmy. Ellen decided right then that both the boys must have been completely distracted not to see it. She saw it right away in how he looked at her. His eyes begged for forgiveness and his discomfort was obvious. His shoulders hunched and he took quick glances at her.

Castiel gave himself away, almost like he meant to do so.

Sam’s obliviousness she could understand. The boy was drugged to the gills. He was having trouble being aware of anything for too long. Dean however…. Did he, deep down, know this ‘Jimmy’ was a lie? Or was he too busy trying to hold everyone else together to see it? Could be either or a bit of both. Perhaps Castiel had done a decent job at lying to them. She wondered how he’d come to be there when Dean and Sam had set out to kill him.

Once Castiel had gone and in between Sam’s runs to the infirmary for news, Ellen slowly began to drag the story from Sam. He told her everything and then it was her turn. Sam asked about Morgan.

“Tell me something about her,” he said. “She wants to have dinner and I’d like to know a little more about her first.”

“You could talk to her.”

“I want to hear your thoughts on her.”

Ellen nodded. “Okay. She’s a determined woman. Made over her entire life after her husband died a few years ago. She’s the granddaughter of a hunter and that’s how she knows about things. Her dad managed to break away from it somewhat and raised her to understand the life. Doesn’t scare easily, keeps a calm head in a crisis….” She raised her brows. “What else do you want to know?”

He looked a little guilty, shifting in his seat and glancing away. “I’m just, you know --”

“Interested in her?” Ellen smiled. “It’s okay. She berated me earlier when I woke for not telling her you were cute.”

“She thinks I’m cute?”

For a second, he seemed so very young and vulnerable and Ellen nodded. “Have dinner with her. Be good for you both.”

He crossed his arms. “Why would she want someone as crazy as me?”

“Your sickness doesn’t define you, Sam. You’re a lot more than that and Morgan isn’t the shallow sort who won’t look beyond to the real you. Give her a chance.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, Ellen. She seems nice.”

“She is nice. She’s also a grown woman. Let her worry about whether or not she wants to chance getting hurt.”

A small smile flickered and disappeared. “You know, she sort of said the same thing.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for? Have dinner.”

“Okay. I’ll have dinner with her.” His watch beeped. “Time for another run to the infirmary.”

It had taken Ellen awhile to get used to the way Sam talked now. The slurred speech bothered her and when he tried to talk like he used to, he was the hardest to understand. He had to slow way down to be clear. It seemed so wrong to hear him fighting to get words out and her heart ached for him as the hours passed. She wondered how often he simply decided not to talk at all rather than bother trying. Had to be unbearably frustrating.

Jo’s progress was slow and steady and he finally told her they were close and he’d stay at the infirmary until the baby was born, then come tell her.

Ellen could hardly wait to find out if she had a grandson or granddaughter.

~~~~~~~~~~

At 8:05 p.m., Dean, Jo, Jody, Mindy, and Morgan were all startled by a loud thumping on the roof. As Sam assured them everything was fine and to go back to having the baby, they ignored the rest of the thumps and concentrated on bringing the child into the world.

At 9:47 p.m., nearly seven hours after she’d gone into labor, Jo gave birth to a baby girl. Holding that tiny swaddled bundle a short while later, Dean felt a swelling of pride and sheer wonder inside him.

“I have a daughter,” he whispered.

She was small and perfect and, in his opinion, looked just like Jo. The connection he already felt to this child surprised him a little. He hadn’t expected to love her so fast, but he did. He brushed a finger along her cheek. She opened her mouth and squirmed a little before sighing and settling back down.

Jo rested her head against his shoulder. One hand slid along his back, the other adjusting the folds of the blanket. “We have a daughter.”

Leaning down a little, he kissed her, then asked, “How completely awesome is that?”

“It’s definitely awesome,” she replied with a tired smile.

Morgan cleared her throat. In her hands was that camera Jo had recorded her diaries on. “Okay, you two. Before I leave you alone for awhile, I thought you might like to get a few family pictures to commemorate this evening.”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

When she was finished, she set the camera aside and slipped out the door. She’d be outside if they needed her.

Jo touched the baby’s hand, held it in hers a moment. “We need to talk names.”

“What names had you planned?” He was curious what names Jo had been considering and they hadn’t had time to talk about it until right now.

“If she’d been a boy, I was going to name her after you. Dean.”

“And a girl?”

“I was thinking Elizabeth. It’s a family name on my mom’s side and has been for about five generations now. My middle name was supposed to be Elizabeth, but dad didn’t like it. They compromised.”

“Elizabeth is good. I like it. We could name her Elizabeth Ellen.”

She raised a brow. “Dean. Sweetheart. Think about those initials a minute.”

“E.E.H?” He was fishing and knew it, asking in a roundabout way how she’d planned to raise their child: Winchester or Harvelle.

“No, E.E.W.” She cleared her throat. “I never planned on giving her the name Harvelle. This baby was always a Winchester.”

“Might be safer as a Harvelle,” he suggested, though very pleased that Winchester had been the only option in her mind.

“Doubtful. You family isn’t the only one with issues. I learned a few things about my Harvelle side these past months. Mom got talkative.”

“Yeah? Like what?” He’d bet her Harvelle side had never done some of the stupid shit he and Sam and the Campbells had done in the past.

“Tell you later. How about Elizabeth Rose?”

“I dated a Rose once. She was a bitch. Screwed me in ways other than the usual one.”

“Okay then. How about Elizabeth Anneke?”

“Anneke?” He considered it, mentally running through all of the nicknames possible, and shook his head. “Nope. Anneke can be shorted to Nikki and every Nikki I’ve ever known has been a wild child.”

“Dean, we’re not looking for a first name. It’ll be her middle name.”

“I’m taking no chances with my daughter.”

She laughed. “This could take awhile if you shoot down all my suggestions.”

“You shot down mine first.”

“Only because her initials would be E.E.W. Eew. Other would kids would make that noise at her. Trust me on this.”

He looked down at their daughter and stroked one finger across her cheek, an idea forming. “How about Hope? Elizabeth Hope.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah. As in ‘we both hoped you’d get here safely’. Or ‘hope for the future’.”

She returned her cheek to his shoulder. “I don’t know, that’s sort of sappy,” she teased.

“I’m a new dad. I’m allowed sappy.” Hope seemed perfect to him.

“That you are. Elizabeth Hope Winchester.” Jo smiled. “I like it.”

“Call her Ellie?”

“Liz,” she countered.

“Lizzie?” Dean raised a brow.

“Bess?”

“Beth?” He glanced down at their daughter, trying out the shortened name. “Beth.”

“I like Beth. Always have. Beth it is.”

Dean gently grasped one tiny hand. “Hi Beth.” Turning his head, he pressed a kiss against Jo’s forehead. “Thank you, Jo.”

“For what?”

“For her.” He hated to ruin the moment and knew he should wait for awhile, but he couldn’t. She had to know this peaceful moment wouldn’t last long. “Jo, Crowley wants our daughter.”

“He can’t have her.” She eased away from him and back into bed. “What’s your plan to keep us safe when he comes?”

“Both of you?” He was surprised she was including herself in that since she was very capable of taking care of herself these days.

“Of course both of us. I just gave birth. I’m in no shape to be fighting and won’t be for awhile. I mean, I can and will if I absolutely have to, but if you’ve got a better idea, I’ll let someone else run the show.”

“I put Jimmy and Sam on it, so I’ll talk to them and get back to you.” Once she was settled, he handed Beth to her. “I’ll be here all night, either in the chair over there or out on one of the cots.”

Jody, Mindy, and Morgan were all planning on taking shifts to help Jo through the night and he left so Jo could have some time alone with Beth. There were a few things he needed to get done, such as telling Ellen and talking to Jimmy and Sam.

He emerged from the cabin to find that thumping on the roof had had a purpose. At the corners of the roof, plastic gargoyles had been affixed and he could see symbols spray-painted on the roof itself…and on the outer walls and doors into the cabin. Sam was looking it all over with an air of satisfaction to him.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?” Sam stepped up beside him.

He gestured at the building. “Do I want to know?”

“Keeping Jo and the baby safe.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “What’s with the symbols?”

“Um…just something I heard…read about that might keep Crowley away.”

Heard or read? Sam seemed to use the two words for the same meaning a lot lately. Was it another side effect of the medicine that he got words confused? “Right. Whose idea was this?”

“Ellen, me, Jimmy…. A couple other guys…. Ellen observed that gargoyles work to keep PDs out of places. I know we’re preparing for Crowley, but we might as well add things for PD’s as well.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Jimmy’s team found a lot of things while they were out.”

“Team?”

“Yeah, after we started looking at plan ideas we realized we needed a few things.” Sam scrutinized one spray-painted symbol, then bent, retrieved a can and added a squiggle to it. “There. You staying here tonight?”

“Was planning on it. The plan, Sam,” he prompted.

“We have more salt and paint. Iron. Holy water.”

“You guys didn’t come up with a plan, did you?”

“Not much of one, no. Increased patrols.”

“Where’s Jimmy?”

“Huh….” He sidestepped and began walking away, around the building. “He’s busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Construction.”

“Sam.” Striding forward, he caught Sam’s arm, stopping him from moving away again. “Jimmy doesn’t do construction. He banged his thumb with a hammer last time he tried to nail anything and never did get any nails into the wood. Handy the guy ain’t. Amelia probably did all the handy work at their house.”

“There’s not much we can do, Dean, except make sure Jo and the baby --”

“We named her Elizabeth. Beth for short.”

“-- Jo and Beth are in a safe location and keep it guarded until he shows up and we can kill him with the knife.” He blinked. “Isn’t Jo’s middle name Beth? Won’t that get confusing?”

“It is and only if Ellen hollers for Jo using both.” He sighed. “Tell me we can do this and keep them safe from him.”

“We will do this and keep them safe from him.”

Dean nodded again. “Thanks. Send Jimmy in to see me when he’s done ‘constructing’. I’ll be at Ellen’s.” He started towards Ellen’s cabin.

Chapter 28

A granddaughter.

Ellen couldn’t help but cry and cry some more as she looked at the pictures on the camera. Someone had taken pictures of Beth being held by Jo and still messy from birth, of Beth being washed, of her and Dean. Ellen guessed that picture was the first time he’d held her because he looked both scared and happy at the same time, the angle of his arms almost awkward. There was a picture of Jo crying and smiling at the same time and then pictures of the three of them together, Dean the one holding Beth and looking far more at ease.

“Length and weight,” she asked.

“Eight pounds three ounces, twenty-one inches long.”

“Good size.”

“Small.”

She smiled. “Sweetie, that’s not small. No wonder Jo felt like she had a hand on her diaphragm and a foot on her bladder the past month.”

“It’s small to me.”

It was a relief that Jo and Beth were healthy. Ellen and Morgan had done their best to make that happen over the months. She handed the camera back to Dean and wiped her eyes. “A grandkid is a rarity for hunters.”

“I know. Kids at all are a rarity for us.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think some hunters blow into town, have a good ole time and leave behind some messes they never know about.” She’d bet it had happened often over the years, especially considering some of the hunters she’d met.

“Could be,” he acknowledged with a nod as he slid the camera into the case he clipped to his belt. He adjusted his shirt back over it. Pulling up a chair, Dean sat down. “Don’t mean to rain on your parade right now, Ellen, but I need to know about the plastic gargoyles.”

She told him everything just like she’d told Sam and Castiel. “Didn’t Sam tell you? Or Cas…Jimmy?” Her tongue stumbled a little over the transition from Castiel to Jimmy. Dean either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“Not exactly. I got a very condensed, somewhat quick mention. Gargoyles seem like a long shot against the PD’s. I mean, they’re plastic.”

“Not if you’d seen what I saw. I have no explanation for it Dean. They just…reacted badly to them. If it works, use it. Any idea how silly using salt against various things sounds?” Some methods of dealing with assorted creatures sounded difficult to believe until they actually worked. “You could always say a blessing over them I guess, if that makes you feel better about them.”

“If you’re sure they’ll work we’ll try it, but I’m using what we know works, too, for them and for Crowley. The main problem right now is Crowley. Jo and Beth will be holed up in the infirmary until we can take care of him. We’ve got them as protected as we can and Sam apparently found some new symbol he thinks may work on Crowley. I have no idea where or when he found it and getting information from him sometimes now is like…” He shrugged. “Well, it’s hard. I’ve got another idea that I’ll get the guys started on as soon as I leave here.”

“I trust you to keep them safe, though I’d feel better if I was there with them and able to help.”

“Once your full day without a fever is up, Sam can carry you over provided we’re not neck deep in demons by then. Jo’d probably like the company.”

She nodded. “The first few days are exhausting even without the threat of a demon swooping in. How are you doing?”

“Riding the high,” he admitted with a small smile. “Probably will be for the next few hours still.”

“Don’t forget to try to sleep. You’ll need it.”

“I know. I won’t forget. She’s adorable, Ellen.”

“Of course she is.” Ellen said it like it was a fact, because in her mind, it was. Her daughter was a beautiful woman and Dean was a good looking guy. What else could any kid of theirs be but adorable?

“Tiny, perfect.” He leaned over, resting his forearms on his knees. “I never thought I’d ever have any kids, you know? It’s not something that’s easy to do in the life. Especially for Sam and me. We’re a ton more visible than most hunters. Not intentionally, you know. Too many monsters know our names. Hard to have a….” Dean clasped his hands together. “How did you and Bill figure it out? How did you balance it all? I know you did. For awhile anyway. What’s the secret, Ellen?”

Ellen took a deep breath. He was looking for some magical formula that would make it all easy for him and for Jo and there wasn’t one. It took sheer determination and stubbornness more than anything else, with some intuition and luck thrown in. “No secret. There’s nothing to figure out, sweetie. You just do it because you love each other and because you have a child to protect. You make it work and it won’t be perfect because life isn’t perfect. You’ll all get hurt at some point one way or another. That’s just life. Granted, our life has a bit more in the hurt department than most, but you dig in and refuse to go down unless you’re dragged down. And even then, you think of that child and you get right back up.”

Dean was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t want to fail them,” he said in a soft, hesitant voice, looking up at her. “To fail Jo.”

“You won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

She shook her head. “You won’t fail because in Jo’s mind, you can never fail her.” When he said ‘fail’ it was different than what a lot of people thought about the word. Some meant it more as disappointment, but Dean meant it on a whole other level. He meant the sort of failing that ended in death or an angel wiping memories completely. In Ellen’s opinion, it would have been far safer for Lisa and Ben if Castiel had wiped all their memories including Dean’s. Especially Dean’s. Hard to use someone against another person if they didn’t remember they’d ever been important to him.

“Ellen --”

“She loves you. Jo knows you. She knows the man you are and knows you have the flaws men have. It’s not an unrealistic way of thinking to her because she doesn’t think you’ve ever let her down and failed her. You may think that, but she never has. Thought never once crossed her mind. Her dying wasn’t anything you could have prevented and she knows that. It wasn’t a failure on your part. So you get it out of your head that you’ll ever fail with her. Life happens. You can’t stop it.”

“Life happens,” he repeated, sitting back in the chair. For a man who tended to shove things deep down inside him, he had everything on his face right now. He was terrified of failing to keep Jo and Beth safe from Crowley.

“Just understand that this situation with Jo is very different to that other one you had in too many ways to count. Jo won’t go down without a fight and she knows how to take care of herself. No way she’ll stand there and let anything or anyone take her and Beth away.” She tried to be gentle in how she said it. “Not to mention there’s me, Morgan, Jody, and Sam there to help you. Probably others. We’re in it with you.” She didn’t mention Castiel, as she wasn’t sure where he really stood.

Surprise flickered in his eyes at that general mention she made of his year out. “She told you.”

“Enough about it so I’d understand and wouldn’t put my foot in my mouth.” She’d heard the bare bones about Lisa and Ben and what had happened there. Jo had been careful to tell her when they’d been alone and stressed the need for Ellen to avoid mentioning it if at all possible.

“I know it’s different, but there’s one common denominator. Two if you count me. The main one is Crowley in both situations. Crowley coming here for them scares me because I don’t know how to keep them completely safe. I have the old methods we’ve always used and as unconcerned as we’ve seemed to be about Crowley for a long while now, he’s actually as scary as Lilith ever was because he just keeps coming back. Cockroaches have nothing on him. He’s powerful, unscrupulous even for a demon while oddly scrupulous at the same time, and he knows us. He doesn’t underestimate us and that’s a damn scary thing when your demon enemy respects you and your abilities.” He sighed, but before he could go on there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Castiel opened the door and stepped inside. “Dean, Sam said to come find you.” He avoided looking at Ellen at all except for a quick glance.

“You done with whatever project you were working on?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ve got another one for you. Get the rest of the fence posts we haven’t put in yet, the fence sections, and anything else iron you can find. Dig a trench around the infirmary and start putting them all in. Make sure each piece is connected to the one next to it or overlapping and secured. I want the building completely surrounded as soon as possible, making sure there’s room for guards inside the circle. I want people working through the night on it.”

He nodded. “I’ll get right on it.” In seconds he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Good thinking,” Ellen observed.

“Samuel Colt is an inspiration in more ways than one. If he can surround the Devil’s Gate with a railroad, I can surround the infirmary with a fence. I want Crowley to have to work, hurt, and maybe even bleed if he really wants them.” He stood. “I’ll let you rest. See you in the morning.”

It sounded like Dean had everything under control. She hoped it stayed that way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo’s first night as a mother was a blend of discomfort, aches, anxiety, and little sleep.

The important part was that Dean was there with her the whole time, weathering it with her as best he could. He didn’t have the discomfort or aches, but he had the latter two. He got as little sleep as Jo did, choosing to stand or sit close at the bedside whenever Jo had to be awake to feed or change Beth. Once, he’d changed Beth himself, then held her and rocked her back to sleep in his arms.

The pride and joy in his eyes made a lump grow in Jo’s throat. No matter what happened from here, she was glad they had this time together with their daughter. If they survived whatever attack Crowley made on them, Dean was going to be a good father. Jo could see it in how he took care of Beth.

The first day dawned cloudy and chilly. Jo had woken to find Dean gone and Beth just beginning to fuss. She’d gotten out of bed, changed her, fed her, laid her back down, and now watched the men and women outside through the window. They were putting in an iron barrier.

She hadn’t counted on being as exhausted as she was. It almost made her feel numb, like she was sleepwalking. Raising her hands, she tucked strands of hair back into her braid and leaned closer to the window. “That’s a lot of iron panels.”

“Jo, lie down for awhile. Take a nap.” Morgan looked over at her from where she was watching Beth. “You need to get used to sleeping when she sleeps, otherwise you’ll never get any sleep.”

“I want to know what’s going on. The preparations. Where we’re at in them.”

“Dean will tell you later. I’m sure he will. It’s still early. He was out of here at dawn to check on things.”

Jo sighed, not moving from the window.

“You’ll feel better after you’ve had more sleep. Trust me.” Her voice was gentle and she came forward, hands grasping Jo’s arms. She drew her from the window and directed her to the bed. “Sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

She got in bed and pulled up the covers. “I’m sleeping under duress, you know.”

“As long as you do sleep,” Morgan countered. “You’ll know when she wakes up. Believe me. You’ll know. As loud as she is? Quite a set of lungs on her.”

When Jo woke later, Dean was there and Beth was crying. She watched him change the diaper, talking all the while. Was that an actual commercially made diaper? Jo blinked. Yes, it was. There were packages of diapers now along one wall.

“Sshh…. It’s okay. Come on, Elizabeth Hope. Don’t wake your mama. She’s tired and needs sleep.” He wrapped her back up and lifted her into his arms. Her fussy cries continued. “I know. You’re starving to death. It’s been what, two hours? I can see you’re wasting away to nothing. Let’s go see if Morgan’s got a bottle for you or if we have to wake mommy.”

A smile tugged at Jo’s lips.

He stepped through the doorway and wasn’t gone long, settling into the chair a moment later, a bottle at Beth’s mouth. The baby made grunting noises.

“Formula,” Jo asked.

Dean looked up. “You’re awake. I was going to let you sleep.”

“A minute ago.”

“Ahh. Ellen gave Jimmy a list of things to get when his team went out yesterday. Formula and diapers were high on the list. Morgan approved of the formula. Thought you might like a rest from nursing sometimes.” He cleared his throat. “They also picked up a crib and set it up back at the cabin.”

“They were busy.” She slowly sat up. Morgan was right. She did feel better, her head a bit clearer than it had been.

“They were.”

The picture of him feeding their daughter made Jo’s chest ache from the sweetness. It didn’t take long before he was pulling the bottle back and holding it up so she could see it.

“Look at this. Empty already. Dead soldier in minutes.” Raising Beth up against his shoulder, he first rubbed her back, then patted it until a surprisingly loud and long belch emerged.

A giggle escaped Jo. “She certainly takes after you.”

“Belching is an art. But what she just did is sheer talent.”

Tossing off the covers, Jo eased over to sit on the side of the bed. “How soon do you expect Crowley to come?”

He pressed his cheek against Beth’s head. “Anytime. I don’t imagine that demon wasted time heading to wherever Crowley has been running things.”

“Are we ready?”

Slowly, he maneuver Beth back down to lie in his arms. “We’d better be.” When he had her adjusted, he gestured across the room. “Stash of holy water and salt over there. There’s more in the main room. Don’t trip over the bar on the floor.”

Leaning over, Jo could see an iron bar laid across the doorway. “What, no bar at the window, too?”

A tiny grin curved his lips. “We’ll take care of that later today.”

Standing, she went to him and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I think we’re good. What are my chances of getting some breakfast?”

“Excellent provided you tell Morgan what you want.”

Within an hour, she was fed, bathed, dressed, and waiting for Ellen to be carried over.

~~~~~~~~~~

The entire camp was on edge. Crowley could come at any time and Dean was frankly surprised he hadn’t shown up already. He made the small room at the back of the infirmary a temporary home for himself, Jo, and Beth. Guards surrounded the building at all hours and camp members either had anti-possession charms or tattoos. Mostly other hunters had the tattoos, but there had been a few civilians over the past months willing to get them. Each person also wore something silver. It was a requirement.

They had salt for the points of entry and a devil’s trap on the floor of the porch entrance. Iron circled the building. Sam and Jimmy had made hex bags and Jo continued to wear her charm necklace. Morgan hadn’t been happy about the fumes from the trap. Dean had taken Jo and Beth out of the infirmary while fans ran to both dry the paint and remove the fumes. For those few hours, he’d been certain Crowley would show up right then and was relieved when that didn’t happen.

He wondered if this was part of Crowley’s game: to make them wait and let their apprehension rise.

Jo let him take control of the situation. Part of him wanted her to object and fight him, trying to add to the plan with her own ideas, while the other part was glad she saw the sense in taking time to heal and bond with their daughter.

I have a daughter, he thought. Whenever he thought about that, he got a goofy grin and knew he had that goofy grin. It wasn’t something he could stop. So, he spent as much time with Jo and Beth as he could, holding them both, enjoying their hours alone, and trying not to feel like it was all going to disappear like a popped bubble. For the most part, people left them alone, too worried about the demon on his way to the camp, though a few did stop by with congratulations. Many were hunters who’d met either Jo or Ellen in the past.

Morgan, Jody, and Ellen were constant figures in the infirmary and Jimmy’s friend Mindy as well. They took turns giving Jo time to rest and making sure she had everything she needed.

The door into the building shut with a soft click and dean glanced into the back room. Jo didn’t even stir from the nap she was taking on the bed.

“She’s only two days old, but I think she’s gotten bigger,” Sam remarked softly, moving closer and taking the chair across from Dean. He reached for a cloth and laid it across his shoulder. “I hold her awhile?”

“Sure.” He laid Beth in Sam’s arms. Already, Sam was beginning to feel at ease holding her.

Across the room, Morgan turned and pretended to be reading a page while she leaned against the counter. What she was really doing was watching Sam with Beth over the top of the book. Dean didn’t say anything. If she wanted to go all goo-goo eyed whenever Sam was in the room, that was her problem.

He turned his attention to Sam. Dean could see something of the old Sam in how he looked down at Beth. There was determination, stubbornness, and the resolve to do what needed done despite the drug. Every time Sam said they’d ‘keep her safe’, Dean believed he would. Sam meant the words.

“What’s Crowley waiting for do you think?” Sam settled back in the chair. He held Beth with both arms, whereas Jo and Dean were already holding her with one.

“No idea. We good on devil’s traps?”

“Yes. Painted all over the place. Salt in all buildings along with containers of holy water. Jimmy instructed the civilians how to make their own and advised they do so and keep an extra supply on hand.”

All that was left was to wait.

The waiting was the worst part.

~~~~~~~~~~

With a cry of triumph, Jody Mills finally got the internet signal back up and running. It had been down for a couple days. With a grin, she crawled out from under the makeshift desk and sat in the chair. She got started looking at the usual sites they frequented, praying it wouldn’t go down before she had some news to tell of the world outside.

A headline caught her eye.

‘Castiel to Return’.

Jody sat up a bit straighter, reading first the article, then following the links provided to information. She frowned. “Damn it.” Pursing her lips, she watched the video again and sat back. “Norm, leave this up, okay? Dean needs to see it.”

Norm was one of the regular team in the building. He nodded. “Sure thing, Jody.”

Getting up, she headed for the infirmary. “Dean?” Jody rapped on the half open door of the back room. While she hesitated to interrupt these first few days of parent and baby bonding time, Dean needed to be aware of another disturbing development on the horizon.

He handed Beth to Jo and crossed to her. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk outside a minute?”

Dean stared at her, scrutinizing her expression, then looked over his shoulder. “Jo, I need to check on a few things.”

She sauntered close, running a hand over Beth’s small back. “Hi, Jody. Duty calls, I take it?”

“Always.” Leaning over, he gave Jo a kiss and followed Jody out of the cabin all the way. “We’re out. What is it you didn’t want Jo to hear?”

“I don’t care if she hears, Dean, but this is something you need to see. My telling you doesn’t do it justice.”

She took him to the communications center and showed him a video of Constance Turco giving a speech. Jody kept it muted. She let him watch and just when he started to ask why she was having him watch it, he saw what she’d seen.

“Son of a bitch,” he bit out.

The girl who appeared on the screen at one point during the speech had come to camp three months earlier, worked well, and been gung-ho, yet had disappeared on one bloody, terrible supply run. They’d thought she’d died, yet there she was. “This was shown a couple days ago. Now, listen to this one. It was shown a few hours later that same night.”

Constance appeared on the screen and something in her smirk gave Jody the willies. Goosebumps covered her arms. “Friends, I have some very important information for you. Our dear Castiel is coming back to us. In fact, he’ll be with us within the week. Look for a special program soon. I can’t wait to hear what new message he has for us!”

The way she spoke was similar to the way Constance usually did, but different somehow. Jody couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Dean had her play it over and over and finally, he shook his head. “Damn it. It’s Meg.”

“Meg?”

“That’s not Constance, Jody. She’s been possessed. Meg’s a demon.”

“How can you tell it’s her?”

“Meg sort of swaggers when she walks. Constance never did. Meg also smirks and the words, the inflections, just sound like her.”

“Well, whoever she is, she’s coming here.”

“As is Crowley,” he said, then blinked and leaned his head back slightly. “How did we not see this video immediately?”

“We can’t monitor everything, Dean, especially with it all crashing half the time. Everything went down and we just now got it back up.”

His sigh was long and frustrated. “Meg and Crowley. Crowley will be here any day and so will Meg. What do you think the chances are of them showing up at the same time? No way we’ll be that lucky, but maybe…. If Meg brings humans it’ll take her longer to get here. If she brings other reinforcements it’ll be any day….”

“Dean?”

“Crowley wants Beth and Jo, Meg wants Castiel. Two different agendas. Two different areas of camp. Two different traps needed. We need to be prepared for both. Timing sucks.”

She could see his mind running a million miles a minute and knew to wait for him to plan this out.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Jody. This is what I want you to do.”

Chapter 29

Castiel was alone in his cabin trying to decide if he should ask Mindy to come over for company when Dean knocked on the door. He let him in and waited for whatever was on Dean’s mind.

Dean didn’t waste time, resting his hands on his hips and saying, “Meg has found us, too.”

“No.” The word blurted out before he could stop it. Castiel felt cold all of a sudden. Crowley alone he could deal with. Crowley just wanted him dead. Meg, however…. Meg’s intentions towards him were vile on several levels, especially after he’d refused her. She’d make him wish he was dead and only kill him when she’d had her fun and was tired of him. He fully expected that to take months, perhaps over a year.

“She’s coming for Castiel, pretty much announced it to the world a couple days ago. Not sure what kind of army she’ll have with her. The attack could be any time, same as Crowley. I’m sort of hoping they’ll meet each other coming in and decide to beat each other bloody rather than come here. No love lost between them. It’s a possibility.”

“But not a probability.” He turned his back to Dean. “She’ll tear me apart.” He heard Dean take a few steps in his direction.

“Not if she think you’re Castiel and maybe willing to go with her to stop an attack.”

Bile rose up in the back of his throat and he choked it back. “Dean, I can’t. I can’t go with her. How can you --”

“Not asking you to actually go, Jimmy. Just play her. Make her think you’re Castiel and ready to get out of here and resume being a god to her priestess. Give her a token protest, draw her in. Maybe she won’t even come herself. Maybe she’ll send staff.”

“She’ll come.” He knew for a certainty she would so she could watch his face when he realized she had him trapped. Castiel sank down to sit on his bed. “He refused her crude and sexualized offers of an alliance once. She was furious.”

“You were awake then?” Dean circled around to his front.

He didn’t look up at Dean. “Yes. He was disgusted by her and, at the time, by himself as well. He knew he was dying and had begun to try to face the things he’d done to you all.”

“This is our chance to end her, Jimmy. We need to take it.”

While he saw the sense in taking action, he didn’t want to have to be the one to do it. “Does this plan of yours mean I’ll be alone to fight her?”

“Not entirely. I’ve got Jody, Morgan, Ellen, and most of the hunters here assigned to protect Jo and Beth. The rest to watch over the civilians. You’ve gotten some good practice these past months, so…Sam can watch your back, help you out if you need it.”

“You’re assigning the mentally unstable person to assist me? The one whose medication makes him slow to move, slow to speak, and not quite with it on a daily basis?” Raising his brows, he stared up at him. “I question your judgment on that, Dean. Or is it your intention to get rid of me one way or another?”

Dean crossed his arms. “I could have gotten rid of you at any time. I don’t need Meg as an excuse.”

The words chilled him even further. They indicated that perhaps Dean wasn’t as unaware of who he was as Castiel had thought. Castiel looked away. “I see.” But, if Dean was aware, why had he let him stay? Why hadn’t he killed him? Why? Those questions rose up and remained in his mind. Did Dean know more than he’d thought or was he reading things into Dean’s words that weren’t there?

“You’ve never objected to Sam as backup before,” Dean pointed out and was completely correct. Castiel had never objected once in the time Dean and Sam had called him ‘Jimmy’. “You’ve taken him on raids with you.”

“This is more dangerous than a raid I think. Meg will either abduct me or kill me. I don’t want either to occur. I’d prefer more backup than --”

He let loose a snort of laughter. “Relax. I’ll be around, making sure she’s headed in the right direction provided Crowley isn’t beating down our door, too.”

“And if he is?”

“Then you’d better be ready for her.”

He decided not to have Mindy over after all, spending the time in quiet contemplation of the past months. If Dean knew more, then some of their interactions these months took on new meanings, but if he didn’t and it had simply been a comment, then perhaps Castiel’s imagination would be his undoing and he should come clean now, whatever the price he’d pay.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four days after Beth was born, a cloud of black swirled towards the camp from the east.

Dean took a reflexive step back from the sight before heading to the front gate. The last cloud of black he’d seen had swept over his car and damn near totaled her. Had to be Crowley. A siren rang out, warning the camp of the impending arrival of the demon cloud. As he made his way towards the gate, he saw Jody and Morgan take up a place at the door to the infirmary. People hurried from the front of the camp, most going towards the dining hall where they were supposed to go while others went to posts agreed upon beforehand. Jimmy would be in his cabin waiting and watching and Sam nearby.

“Ready,” Dean asked into the walkie-talkie he’d been carrying constantly.

“Just tell me which plan to focus on,” Sam replied.

“As soon as I know.”

He discovered Crowley waiting, hands in his coat pockets and an expression of bored patience on his face.

“Looks like it’s the first one so far.” Dean slowed his pace, making the demon wait. “Crowley.”

“Nice fortress,” he drawled stepping up to the gate. “You know I’ll find the weakness in your fence, Dean. You couldn’t have gotten the entire camp surrounded. My demons will suss it out quickly.”

“Samuel Colt had the Devil’s Gate surrounded.”

“He had more resources than you do.” His brows rose a fraction. “Shall we save time and you just open up the gate for me right now?”

“I don’t think so. You’re going to have to work for this, Crowley.”

“I won’t do the work. I’ll let them.” He waved a hand at the black cloud in the sky.

“What’s this?” The voice and body were Constance Turco’s, the rest was Meg. She appeared in the middle of the road and sauntered slowly to the gate, approaching from the west. “Trying to nose in on my pick-up? Why am I not surprised? I’ll bet she went to you before she came to me.”

Crowley turned to watch her approach, face impassive. He neither confirmed or denied what Meg said.

Dean couldn’t believe the timing of it. “Miracles do happen,” he murmured. He itched to tell Sam.

“Meg,” Crowley acknowledged with a nod. “You’re looking a tad frazzled these days. So sorry I’ve been unable to accept your invitations for a meeting. I’ve been rather busy running my domain.”

“You don’t look so hot yourself. Been hiding in less than desirable places? Afraid to leave hell perhaps? Speaking of hell….” Her voice hardened on the next words. “What are you doing out of it? Earth is my domain now and you’re trespassing.”

“I have a child to snatch up. And you?”

“A former angel.”

“Castiel’s alive?” Crowley’s eyes narrowed the barest of fractions. Dean saw a flash of surprise in those eyes and knew in a second that Crowley would take Castiel along with Beth if he could. He had to be chomping at the bit to get revenge for how Castiel had hobbled him for awhile. “Here I’d thought he took a vacation like his daddy did.”

“So you didn’t know. He’s very much alive and powerless to fight.” Meg’s voice was gloating. “He’s mine. He owes me his tears, blood, and pain.”

Crowley shrugged as though unconcerned. “Have at him then, if you think you an handle him. However, I do believe that my child trumps your former angel because Castiel is nothing now to anyone. Except a few humans perhaps.” He slid his hands in his pockets. “You always did think small.”

Meg smiled. “Then how is it I have both Purgatory and earth?”

“You don’t have Purgatory.”

She snapped her fingers. A gray mist seeped from the ground outside the gate and fence until a cloud of it formed in the sky. The gray mist that formed was several times larger than the black cloud. “Bet on that?”

Crowley eyed them. “So what? I can go back to hell and get more of mine. You’re somewhat limited in your soldier of choice.”

“You mean that door you searched so hard to find that can only be opened once every so often? Don’t need it. Found another way in. I’ve got all the cards here, Crowley.”

“Impossible.”

“Control it. Access it. I can let out however many I want. Or put them back. It’s surprisingly easy once you know the steps. You took the hard way in. I found the easy way. Who’s the small thinker now…” she quirked a brow, “tailor? Always were inadequate, weren’t you?”

Rage played across Crowley’s features. “With your bumbling track record, I hardly believe you.”

“You should believe me. My monster demons trump your human demons. Have you figured out how to hurt mine, yet? They know how to hurt yours.” Meg placed her hands on her hips. “Let’s settle this once and for all, Crowley. Your demons against mine. Winner gets hell, the former angel, the child, and the child’s mother.”

Interesting how Meg was now adding Jo and Beth to that, like she thought it was a foregone conclusion that whoever won would take them and Jimmy, too. Castiel, rather.

“Winner gets everything. Hell, earth, Purgatory and the rest.”

“That winner would be me,” Meg taunted.

“We’ll see about that,” Crowley snarled.

The two clouds lowered and converged, a churning, roiling mass of gray and black that enclosed Crowley and Meg inside them.

Dean checked the gate. It was closed firmly.

The clouds slid into the woods across the road, heading away from the camp. Meg and Crowley were somewhere inside it. It looked like two large sacks whipping about each other in a strong wind. From the mass came eerie screams and hisses that made a shiver pass down Dean’s spine.

He raised the walkie-talkie. “Sam. Meg showed up, too, but she and Crowley are in the middle of a pissing match. Could be awhile.”

“Pissing match?”

“Her demons and his and the two of them in the middle somewhere.”

“Her demons? I thought Crowley had them all?”

“Apparently, she’s backed by Purgatory now.”

“Wonderful. That’s…just great.”

“Stand by.”

Five minutes passed, then ten. The cloud and mist continued to move away from the camp, finally disappearing from view entirely and, at half an hour, Dean slumped down into one of the chairs the guards at the gate used. He’d wait awhile longer, then sound a temporary all-clear. The demon winner would be back. It just depended on how long it took for there to be a winner. He wasn’t sure which would win. At one time, he would have put money on Meg, then Crowley, and now he wasn’t sure who had the edge. Could be either.

A little over an hour later, Meg’s slender figure strolled towards the gate, an almost cheery spring in her step.

Dean stood up and moved to the gate to meet her.

~~~~~~~~~~

It just figured that both Crowley and Meg would choose the day Sam was struggling the most with his medicine to arrive. His mind was fuzzy and staying on task was a Herculean undertaking. All Sam wanted to do was lie down and close his eyes.

He shifted position. One walkie-talkie was on one side of him, one on the other. Both were labeled so he knew at a glance which one was which. Slowly, Sam leaned his head back against the wall. Every muscle in his body seemed intent on dragging him down into sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open at all.

With a sigh, his eyes closed and he lost consciousness.

Sam.

Michael’s voice called to him. He knew now that it was Michael trying to communicate with him, but was it an echo from his past in the cage or a present attempt?

Sam. Can you hear me?

Another voice, much louder and guttural, intruded. He’s mine, brother. Why would he be able to hear you at all? He’ll always be mine.

He opened his eyes. He was standing in a bright room, utilitarian in design. Clean, no furniture, bare. Circular and with doors one by one lining the wall space. Some doors opened inward and other were the sort to slide into the wall, improbable really considering how tightly packed the doors were to each other.

He was barefoot, wearing jeans and a thin t-shirt.

I’m dreaming, Sam thought. When did I fall asleep? I can’t be asleep. I have to wake up.

Carefully, he moved to the closest doorway and peered through it. It led to a corridor with more doors, the corridor itself curving sharply to his left. Through one of those open doors, he saw himself as a small child. He was crying and wiping his face with his dusty hands. Dean was kneeling in front of him, carefully bandaging the nasty cut on his left knee. Around the cut a dark bruise was already forming. “It’ll be okay,” Dean said softly. “You did good, Sam. You did really good. When I learned I skinned up my elbows, too.”

He remembered that moment and what had come before it. Dean had lifted a bike from a house a short ways from the motel and brought it over to teach Sam to ride. After the cut was bandaged, he’d gotten Sam back on the bike and that day Sam had learned to ride a bike. He’d learned to ignore the pain and keep on going….

The hallway to the left became suddenly interesting and he turned away from his child self, watching brief snippets of his time at Stanford and with Jess. Sam moved from doorway to doorway, reliving moments he’d forgotten and others that were fresh. He saw Morgan’s flirtatious grin and Sarah Blake’s sweet smile.

Funny, he hadn’t thought about Sarah in a long time. He wondered how she was and if she was still alive.

A short hallway two-thirds of the way around the room yielded scenes from the camp. He saw Jo and Beth, Ellen, and others. The hallway beside it had images that were hazy and indistinct, like perhaps he’d been too young to hold on to them. If they were clearer, would he see the first images he’d ever had, those of his mother? Would he see his dad or would he see the demon standing over him polluting his body?

His steps slowed and he stood before the hallway he recognized. This one he’d seen before. The lights on the ceiling still buzzed and flickered and that door at the end still beckoned and frightened.

Sam gathered his courage. If there was ever anything that he had to face, it must be down this hallway since he kept seeing it. Whatever he was supposed to see was here somewhere.

As he stepped beneath the doorframe, standing half in and out of the hallway, he turned his head and paused, frowning. There were two walls. The first was where the doorframe was and would be part of the original round room. The second was blended to the wall of the main room, seamlessly so. If he hadn’t stopped and looked, he wouldn’t have noticed. The second wall was jagged at the opening edges.

This is the wall Death put up, he realized. This was the section Death had walled up for his own protection. He was standing on the very spot Castiel had pushed down.

Stretching out a hand, he touched one of those jagged edges and quickly yanked his hand back. His fingertips were bloody. That edge had cut him. Sam touched his fingers to his jeans, wiping the small drops of blood away. He stared down the hall, trying to regain his courage.

Rubble and dust appeared at his bare feet and in the hallway, remnants from Castiel’s attack on the wall. He also saw dark marks appear on the doors and walls, as if the blowing down of that wall had been fiery and scorched them.

No. The marks were going the wrong way. They were angled towards where he stood, not away from it. He touched one spot nearest him, finger coming away sooty. He sniffed at the greasy, grimy, black stuff on his finger. It had no smell.

Sam.

Slowly, he stepped the rest of the way into the hallway. The air had a peculiar flat feel to it, like a house that had been shut up too long.

Sam.

There it was again. Michael’s voice. Sam cocked his head. Where was it coming from? It seemed to be coming from all angles.

Can you hear me?

His attention slid to that frightening door at the very end of the hall.

Sam?

“Michael,” he asked.

All sound ceased. Sam hadn’t realized there were sounds present until there were none. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck raised. He felt a stab of panic. His mind began screaming: something is coming, something is coming, something is coming….

The buzzing began, not that from the lights above in the ceiling, but louder and more insistent, screeching as a siren did. The pure malevolence in the air seemed to take the breath from him. Wings appeared, spreading out in front of him and Sam was tossed backwards, landing half in and half out of the hallway. Blood began to seep from the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, and he scrambled away from it.

A chuckle, low and menacing, sounded from the hallway, the lights winking out one by one. He wondered what would happen when the darkness reached him.

Sam jerked awake. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was drenched in sweat. The images remained with him and he felt like he was on the brink of understanding what Chuck kept telling him he had to see.

The walkie-talkie on his right squawked. “This is a bad idea.” It was Castiel’s voice and Sam blinked. He sounded so much like the Castiel of Team Free Will right there and Sam uttered a weak laugh. How well those words went with his feelings at present! Chuck had told him to see, but he still wasn’t sure if that was a good idea in the end.

The other one squawked as well. It was Dean. “Incoming, Sam. Get Jimmy ready to go.”

That meant Meg was the victor of the fight she’d had with Crowley. In a way, Sam was relieved it was her. “Will do,” he replied. Laying that one down, he wiped a hand across his brow. That hand was shaking. He picked up the walkie-talkie on his right.

“Sam? Are you there?” It was Jimmy, not Castiel. Couldn’t be Castiel.

“Yeah, Jimmy. I’m here. Sorry.” He shook his head. The medicine was messing with him.

“I really think this is a bad idea. One of the worst Dean has had.”

“It’s the only idea we had. You ready? Dean says she’s on her way.”

“I still don’t see why Dean couldn’t trap her and kill her at the gate,” he grumbled.

“Her reinforcements,” Sam reminded him. Dean’s plan was for Jimmy to make Meg think he was still Castiel and amenable to going with her. He was to lull her, get her in the trap painted under the threadbare rug on the floor, then kill her with the knife.

“I despise demons,” Jimmy replied.

“I think we all do. Good luck. I’ll be close.”

There was no reply.

Sam stood and looked through the blinds. Meg would have two ways to go. The infirmary or Jimmy’s cabin. They’d done their best to set it up that way.

She appeared minutes later, taking care to circle and study the small cabin before entering it. Sam waited a moment, then slipped from his hiding place, moving furtively towards Jimmy’s cabin.

Chapter 30

At the gate, Dean grasped the bars and studied the approaching demon. Meg’s expression was highly pleased, a smug light in her eyes. “Where’s Crowley,” he asked.

Her answer was amused in tone. “He won’t be coming back.”

“You killed him?”

“I settled an old score.”

It was an answer, though not a specific yes or no. He’d prefer something a bit more definite, except if he got one he didn’t think he’d be ever be sure it was the truth. Meg would lie to him just because she could. Still, she and Crowley were old enemies and rivals. Maybe she had killed him off somehow. “So, you’ve got all the property, then. Hell, earth, and Purgatory. Everything except heaven.”

“I do. Don’t count heaven out, though. Just because I don’t have it now doesn’t mean I won’t get it. Angels sure aren’t out an about these days. They’re still cowering somewhere hoping big bad Cas won’t get them.”

“Sure you can keep control of hell? I mean, demons are petty and power grabbing. Not to mention fickle and…oh yeah, evil.”

“We are, aren’t we?” She grinned, not taking offense at his words. “Don’t you worry about me. I have a few tricks up my sleeve for both my kinds demons. Now, Dean-o….” Meg moved forward again, stopping at the gate. “I want Castiel and I know you have him here.”

“You can’t have him.”

“Oh come on. What use do you have for him? After everything he did to you and to Sam? Not to mention Jo and Ellen Harvelle. Don’t you want revenge on him? Why didn’t you kill him? I’ll admit I’m puzzled by why he’s still alive. I don’t see you showing him mercy after what he did.”

“He just is and you can’t have him.”

Crossing her arms, Meg nodded twice. “I see. Well then, I guess we have to ramp up negotiations here. Here’s my offer. You give me him or I take your child instead. See, the way I see it, that child means far more to you than a deceiving, betraying, broken down former angel. Pick one.”

“Or what?” He released the bars and put his hands in his pockets as if he this was simply a casual conversation he had little interest in.

“Or I send my new and improved demons in to rip apart your little camp and take them both. Maybe I’ll take Jo, too. Ride her for awhile. I’ve been thinking about going blond again.”

PD’s appeared, lurking in the ditch, riding in human bodies that were grotesque from genetic changes. Their mist form seeped back, moving low through the trees across the road. He watched them, wondering a little how many of Crowley’s demons had been destroyed by them or if they were on the run. “You want Castiel so badly, you collect him. Just you. They stay outside.”

She glanced at them and paced a moment before the gate. “I hardly believe you’d give me safe passage through your camp. You’re not as stupid as you look and I’m not stupid.”

“That’s my counteroffer. They stay outside. You want Cas so bad, you make the effort and collect him yourself.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I mean to collect him. Why don’t you make this a lot easier on yourself and hand him over. Have him come to the gate and shove him out it.”

“You know I don’t do easy.”

She smiled and laughed. Her head turned and she glanced around the clearing behind him. “I know that look. You’re up to something.”

He spread his arms. “What could that possibly be? Looks like you have all the cards -- as you told Crowley.”

“I do have them.”

“Then what are you afraid of, Meg?”

Her cocky grin faded. “Not you, hot stuff.”

“Your decision here. What’s it going to be? Refuse and you might lose some control over your new and improved back-up dancers.”

“Dean, Dean.” She shook her head. “You still think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I’m an acquired taste.”

“You’re a pain in my ass is what you are.”

“Ditto.”

She appeared to weigh his words, then glanced over her shoulder at the PD’s. “Wait here for me. If you don’t, you’ll be disciplined.” Meg stepped closer to the gate, nearly against it. “Well? I’ll play by your rule this time. Open the gate.”

He opened it, let it swing wide. “Come on in.”

“Said the spider to the fly.”

“How could I possibly hurt you, Meg? You’ve got an army outside my gates.”

“And you have a deadly knife somewhere inside them. I haven’t forgotten that.” She studied him, then the seemingly deserted road leading into the camp proper. “Where are your people?”

“Out of the way. Safe. Not them you want. Leave them out of this.”

There were devil’s traps painted on porches in front of doors, all but one. The outside of Jimmy’s cabin had been intentionally left free of any symbols, though Jimmy was prepared inside.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Keeping people safe.”

“Where’s Castiel?”

“Find him,” he invited.

“Hide and seek, is it? Well, then. Ready or not here I come. I won’t bother counting to ten.” She sauntered through the open gate, carefully studying the ground before moving forward.

Dean closed the gate behind her, locking out the PD’s. When Meg disappeared around the curve, he let out a sharp whistle. The guards who’d been hidden stepped from their hiding places. “Watch them. Remember what we talked about. Silver and iron. I need to follow her.”

He let Sam know she was coming and followed Meg at a discreet distance, relieved when she only paused for a moment at the infirmary before moving on, heading towards Jimmy’s cabin. Hopefully, Jimmy’s acting skills were decent enough to fool her long enough to trap her and once she was trapped, she could be killed.

She would be killed…if it took all three of them to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s plan was stupid and risky and Castiel was regretting every bit of it. He waited alone in his cabin, connected to the outside only by the walkie-talkie Sam had left. After his brief conversation with Sam, he waited. It likely wouldn’t take Meg long to find him.

He was showing the classic signs of fear and anxiety, his shirt soaking through with a sweat that smelled a little sour to him and his limbs felt weak and shaky. His mind kept running through all the ways this could go and fixating on him ending up her prisoner. It was the last thing he wanted.

While he waited, he checked the salt line and added a bit more to it. Couldn’t have too much, he decided.

“Hello, Castiel.”

Castiel gasped and swiveled on the balls of his feet to face the door. He hadn’t heard it open. Her voice brought the memories of a thousand nightmares rushing back to him. He shuddered and stood, making sure he was behind the line of salt that bisected the room. “Meg.”

She was in Constance’s body, as Dean had mentioned, but Castiel hadn’t really been prepared to see Meg looking out of Constance’s eyes. Constance hadn’t been a bad woman. A little obsessive about him, sure, but she’d loved having a second chance at life. She’d been happy after he’d healed her. He tried not to feel responsible for her current condition by reasoning that Meg could have taken anyone as a new host.

He failed. It was because of him that Constance had been in a position for Meg to take notice of her and decide to use her to gain power.

Meg did like having power.

Reaching out, she flipped the light switch, plunging the cabin into darkness for a moment. When she’d turned the light back on, she stepped inside the cabin.

Looking for a trap on the ceiling, he thought, remembering that Bobby had once used glow in the dark paint of some kind to make a trap. He couldn’t decide if it was a detriment or not that she knew them all and the tricks they used. Dean had told him they should use her expectations against her. He’d designed this trap, with Castiel and Sam’s help, to do just that.

“I see you don’t rate any guards. Who’s shacked up in the heavily protected cabin? Let me guess. Jo and child. Pretty good system Dean set up over there. Impressive even for him.”

“They’re very important to him.”

“Apparently you aren’t since you have no guards. I must say, the human coil suits you.” She put her hands on her hips. “Anything you’d care to grab before we head back to Sioux Falls?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Of course you are. Dean handed you over.” Her brows rose. “Didn’t you know? He opened the gate and let me in. Said if I could find you, I could have you.” She gestured at him. “Lookie here. I found you. That means you’re mine.”

He swallowed hard, forcing a meager amount of saliva down a throat that was too dry. “I don’t choose to go.”

“Of course you do. You really don’t have a choice here.”

“There are always some sort of choices, Meg.”

“Fine.” An annoyed expression crossed her face. Had she really thought he’d go with her without a single protest? “Then here’s your choice. You come with me willingly or I’ll let my demons…all of them…loose in this camp. Picture it, Castiel. Thousands of demons from hell and Purgatory sweeping through camp.”

“People here are protected.”

“Do you really want to see how good those protections are? Purgatory demons are different than hell demons. Different animal altogether.”

He crossed his arms, pretending to think about her offer.

She took a single step forward. “These months have been good to you.”

“I suppose they have.” His palms were slick with sweat and he uncrossed his arms, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Well? What’s your decision? Stay or go, big boy?”

He paced a moment, wondering if Dean and Sam, or at least Sam, were in place outside. Sam should be. “I suppose my only option, as you said, is to go with you.”

“Willing to cooperate now?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. Strip,” she ordered.

The request threw him for a moment, though he wasn’t sure why. He shouldn’t be surprised that Meg wished him to remove his clothes. She’d indicated her lust for his body on several occasions. Jimmy’s body, rather. He didn’t have to pretend confusion. “Why?”

“Because, lover boy, I don’t want any surprises like a knife under your shirt. Strip.”

Gritting his teeth, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, set it on the end of the bed and spread his arms. He turned in a circle. “There. No knife.”

Her grin widened. “If that’s as far as you take that word to mean, we’ve got some work to do to educate you. The jeans, too. Move it and hurry. I’d rather get out of here before Dean tries to spring whatever foolish trap he’s set up.” She took a step towards the rug and stopped, like she had some sort of sense that told her there was a trap beneath it. It was a good thing then that the trap beneath the rug wasn’t the only devil’s trap in place and ready.

With a disgusted snort, he removed his jeans and stood in his underwear. “Satisfied?” He’d hoped she’d step on the rug and that would be that, but it appeared they could end up needing plan ‘B’.

“Not yet, but I guess I can wait a little longer to see the whole package.” She gestured at the jeans. “Turn the pockets out now.”

“There’s nothing in them.” He did as she wanted. She was relishing his discomfort. “May I dress again?”

“If you have to. I’d prefer you didn’t, but again, I suppose I can wait for later.”

Dressed, he felt better, though still somewhat naked. She was beginning to get cocky. Cocky was good. It meant she could slip up.

“Step across that salt line and turn up the corner of the rug here,” she ordered next.

“What for?”

“What do you think what for? I know how Dean thinks. He’s fond of hidden traps. Turn it up. I’ll wait right here.”

The salt on the wood floor was gritty beneath his bare feet and he felt his heartbeat increase when he stepped across that line. If so inclined, Meg could simply grab him now and take him, removing them both from the cabin. He twitched it back and practically jumped back behind the line, then reached for his shoes and slipped them on.

She approached the trap, removed a pocket knife from her jacket and opened it. Crouching, she scraped away enough paint that that particular trap wouldn’t hold her. “Nice try, stud.” She stood and put the knife away. “Now, about that silly salt line….”

Castiel shook his head.

Pleasure sparked in Meg’s eyes. “Are you wanting me to chase you, Castiel? I do like a good chase, but you agreed to come with me. Don’t back out now. I can still have my demons come in here.” Sauntering to the chair by the wall, she snatched up the towel draped on it. “You’re such a tease. I expect a good time later.”

“I think your idea of a good time and mine differ somewhat.” As she swiped the towel across the line, making an opening, he climbed onto his bed, moving away from her.

She stepped towards it. “I always knew we’d end up in bed one way or another.” Meg jumped up on the bed. He let himself slide back off of it. It was a clumsy move, but the painful landing was worth it when Meg realized she couldn’t advance any further. She made a panicked expression and looked around with wild eyes. “What have you done,” she demanded.

Slowly, Castiel got up from the floor. He was going to have bruises later from his fall, but it was a small price to pay for surprising Meg with a trap. “Painted a devil’s trap on the piece of wood between the box springs and the mattress.” The piece of wood was normally there because the mattress wasn’t comfortable otherwise. Sam had helped him put it in place. “Wasn’t entirely sure it would work.”

“Dean’s idea?”

“Sam’s.”

“Sam did always have some smarts in him.”

“Thank you.” Sam’s voice came from the doorway. “Hi, Meg. Long time.”

“Sam. For a guy who’s bat-shit crazy, you don’t look it.”

“Thanks.” His head cocked. “Tell me something. If you were to leave her body would Constance live?”

She settled down on the bed like it was her idea to be there. “Why? Are you going to give me a chance to escape?”

His hand lashed out in a quick movement, fingers tightening into a fist. She coughed and choked, a puff of black pulling from her mouth before Sam opened his fist. “Answer me.”

The action startled Castiel and he stared at Sam. He’d thought Sam could no longer exorcise demons that way. He’d thought the ability had been fried out of him when he’d killed Lilith and freed Lucifer. He’d thought…. Well, he’d thought that ability had been largely from drinking the demon blood to begin with. Sam had no access to the blood here, so how was he able to do that?

“You want the truth?”

“Truth from a demon is always a novelty.” The slow way he spoke now seemed to enrage Meg.

Her lips curled in a snarl and when she spoke, her voice was hard and taunting. “She’ll die in agony if I leave her body.” Her eyes went black. Meg got to her knees and grasped the edges of the jacket she wore, spreading it open. “See the slits on this shirt? Crowley did some damage to her before I got the upper hand. Remember Meg Masters, Sam? Those last minutes of hers? How much pain she was in? Constance will be in every bit as much pain as she was and more so because her precious Castiel won’t save her. She’ll die thinking he abandoned her and refused to save her. She’ll die believing herself damned, cut off from her god.”

The slits in the shirt were large and Castiel took the demon killing knife from where it had been hidden.

“If I leave, she dies.”

Constance would die no matter what. There was no way out of death for her.

A flicker of sadness played on Sam’s features, then disappeared. “That’s what I thought.” His fist closed again and it seemed that his power immobilized Meg.

She glared at them both. “I’ll be back. You know I will. You can’t --”

He didn’t want to hear anymore from her. Stepping forward, Castiel stabbed her, releasing the knife and stumbling back. He felt no satisfaction in stabbing Meg with the knife, merely a relief that she would be gone when it was done working it’s magic. He sank weakly against the wall. His legs were shaking, as were his hands. To be free of her, for all of them to be free of her, felt like a weight was gone. There’d be other demons, sure. Maybe she hadn’t killed Crowley even and he’d return.

But none were Meg.

He turned his gaze from the body to look at Sam. He had his hands raised and was staring at them as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d just done.

“Sam?” He wanted to ask if Sam had been aware that his powers were intact or if it had caught him by surprise. “Sam, are you --”

The door banged open, Dean taking in the scene in seconds. “Damn, you two are fast. I thought you’d still be fighting her.”

Castiel slid down the wall to sit. “You weren’t outside?”

He shook his head. “No. I just got here. Stopped for a second at the infirmary to do a circle around it and then came here and you’ve got her taken care of already.”

“It was a joint effort,” he replied. “Sam….”

“Let’s get her body out of here,” Sam interrupted, lowering his hands.

Dean nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He set a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You okay, Sammy? You look a little weird.”

“There was no way Constance would have survived. If Meg hadn’t fought Crowley, I could have….” He shook his head. “I’m…I’m okay.”

“Are you,” Castiel asked. Sam’s skin was pale and it looked like there was sweat on his forehead.

Sam shrugged off Dean’s hand. “As okay as I’ll ever be.” He moved to the bed and grasped Constance’s shoulders. “Take her feet Dean.”

“Man, Sam, you help kill Meg and suddenly you’re bossy.”

“Just get her feet, will you?”

“Ding dong the witch is dead. Hallelujah.” He grinned a little, striding to the bed and reaching for her feet. “We’ll be back in a few minutes, Jimmy. Then we need to talk PD’s. Meg left her army outside the gates waiting for her. If it’s not one thing it’s another….”

They left the cabin.

Castiel took a few long deep breaths. He still felt shaky and thought he probably would for awhile. Killing Meg was a big thing. When he thought he could stand without his legs giving out, he got to his feet and went to the end of the bed. He was going to have to burn the sheets and bedspread and get new ones and he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep in that bed again.

He rested his hands on the footboard and half bent over it.

Meg was gone. It didn’t seem real to him yet. Maybe it never would. Maybe he’d spend the rest of his mortal life dreaming of her coming for him.

“I know you,” a voice said and Castiel turned. The creature standing there was only partially a monster and in Meg’s former host. Her skin was very white, veins blue beneath her skin, but not prominent like others he’d seen. “I’ve been looking for you. We’ve been looking for you.”

“Why? What do you want with me?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know why the PD’s were looking for him.

“I want to kill you, Castiel. After all, you killed me. I should get some justice.”

He tried to back up and couldn’t, firmly pressed against the footboard of his bed. “I’m sorry. I don’t….” Who was she?

She took a step closer. “You bled me. Ring a bell?”

He remembered then. The Purgatory native he’d taken blood from for the spell. The one who’d been a friend of Bobby Singer. Were all his sins going to confront him in a rush?

~~~~~~~~~~

It had felt like a trance state.

One moment Sam had been asking if Constance would live and the next he’d slipped into that calm state and taken action.

Instinct. He’d told Dean before that was how it had felt when he’d yanked a PD from the body it had been attempting to dive into.

It had been that way now. No sense of power or enjoyment in the ability, not like when he’d drunk the demon blood. This was different and he wasn’t sure if he should be frightened in it or not.

Was this ability a gift from God or a curse he’d fight for as long as he lived?

He and Dean laid Constance’s body by the line of trees in a shadowed area out of the way. They’d bury her later that day.

Now, however, there was the army Meg had brought with her to contend with and Jimmy should be in on the tactics for that.

They headed back towards Jimmy’s cabin.

Chapter 31

Castiel began to list his sins in his mind. Lying, stealing souls, murder…. “I was wrong.”

“I was peaceful, you know. Had been for a very long time. Hung up my battle hat centuries ago and avoided killing. All I wanted to do was to live and retire on earth in peace. I didn’t hurt anyone and you killed me, took in my soul with all the rest and….” She shrugged. “I guided the others, but really, all I want is revenge on you.”

“Revenge gets you killed,” he warned.

“As long as I can take you with me.”

“Eleanor Visyak?” Dean appeared in the doorway and Castiel let a small relieved sigh slip free. “Is that you?”

Sam stepped in the cabin as well and Castiel was relieved that they were both there, already back from taking Constance’s body from the cabin.

She turned her head, acknowledging them there. “I was her at one time. I liked being her. She had a good life, but what life can I have like this?” She gestured at herself. “I can’t pass for human anymore. He took that from me.”

“You could always wear a burka,” Dean suggested. “They’re pretty covering.”

“Are you making a joke at my expense, Dean?” Incredulity colored her voice. “I’m completely serious.”

“So am I. There’s ways you could deal with this and killing him isn’t one of them.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Sam told her. “But if you hurt one of ours, I will pull you out of your host. It’ll kill you, and I don’t mean send you back to Purgatory. You’ll be gone and you’ll never live again.” His slow words lent the odd sensation of time drawing out to this exchange. It felt like they had all the time in the world to deal with this, when Castiel knew there could only be minutes. Sam didn’t raise his hand, or indicate in any way how he could pull her from the host body.

“Maybe it’s better that way. I can’t live the way he changed me.”

“You can’t? Or you don’t want to? See, there’s a difference between the two.” Dean cocked his head. “Can’t means it’s impossible and that’s not true, Ellie. It’s possible. Difficult, but possible. What you mean is that you don’t want to.”

“I didn’t know,” Castiel told her. If he’d known what pulling all those souls inside him would do, would he still have done it? Unfortunately, yes. He’d been high on the god-like power that doing that had afforded him. He’d craved that power and the freedom he’d thought he’d have in it. He’d thought power would solve all his problems, Raphael being the number one problem. And so it had solved them, but added more. “I had no idea.” He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry.”

“I want him to suffer, Dean.” She took a few steps back towards Dean. “Can you understand that? I want him to feel every bit of pain I felt when he cut me open.”

Dean took a slow step closer, hands raised. He was carrying the demon killing knife. “Hey, I totally get wanting Castiel to feel pain. I do. I know where you’re coming from.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. But revenge is a bad road to go down. Sam and I, we know a lot about that and what it does to someone. We grew up in that cycle.”

She pressed a fist to her chest. “I’m changed forever. Do you understand that? I’ve been made different on a fundamental level.”

Sam took a step closer now. “Out of everyone in this camp, Jimmy and I are probably the ones who understand about that the most.”

“Jimmy?” She shook her head with a confused frown. “Who is Jimmy?”

Castiel looked at her. “He means me.”

Her gaze turned thoughtful. “Explain that. Why is he calling you Jimmy, Castiel?”

“Because I’m…the vessel. Castiel’s, but he’s still here. He….” He shrugged, letting more of himself slip free, setting aside Jimmy’s mannerisms and way of speaking. He spoke to her as himself. “I was an angel, then corrupted. Souls from hell aided in that transformation. I’m positive Crowley gave me souls that were nearly turned to demons. I changed, began to exhibit questionable behavior and choices, and changed further when I took in all those souls from Purgatory. Monster souls made me a monster and finally, I’m none of those things now. I’m human, with human desires, regrets, pains, and fears. I’ll never be myself again. Divine judgment has fallen upon me. So kill me if you can. You might not be able to, I don’t know. Nothing ever fatal seems to happen to me. All I have are close calls. I’m to spend my days mired in the terrible consequences my actions have brought. I also suspect the Fates have been given license to torment me.” He licked his lips, tilted his head to one side. “Atropos would enjoy that. I plotted to kill her at one point.”

He saw both Sam and Dean’s eyes narrow and knew this was the beginning of the end for him. Soon, they’d put all the pieces together and maybe he would be ready to meet Death after all. He was tired of lying to them all.

“How did you get in the camp, Ellie?” Dean moved to the table and set the demon killing knife down on it. “We’ve got it --”

“Pretty secure,” she interrupted. “I found a tiny opening on the west end by the water. Your wire has pulled free. A large animal probably.”

Unclipping the walkie-talkie from his belt, Dean raised it. “Howard, get a couple guys out to the west by the water. We’ve got a breach. Plug it up before anyone finds it.”

Her attention returned to Castiel, a cool, hard stare.

“How did you plan to make him suffer,” Sam asked her.

“My equally disgruntled friends outside. We’ve been waiting. Meg was so obsessed with him that we knew she’d find him for us. I knew she’d find him. We didn’t need to expend much effort on that front and could plan our attack on him.”

“You planned to take him from Meg, didn’t you?” Sam edged closer opposite Dean. “You were going to let her take him out of here, then take him from her.”

“Yes, but with her dead, our plan has to change. My plan has to change.”

“And then?” Dean crossed his arms. “What were you going to do to him?”

“Be one with him again.”

“You mean cram as many of you inside his body as you could until he exploded,” Dean translated.

“Figuratively. Or literally. Either would suffice. We’ve been experimenting and we know we can get up to one thousand in, perhaps more if we try really hard.”

“Your plan now?”

She considered the question. “Possess him and take him outside your camp to be dealt with.”

Castiel removed his silver ring and leaned his head back, exposing his throat. “Whenever you’re ready, Eleanor. Sam, Dean. You should stand aside. This could be bad. Perhaps you should go outside?” He felt sick to his stomach, like he could throw up any second. “Should I open my mouth or does that matter?” Technically, this was the same plan he’d been following for Meg.

“You’re not even going to fight,” the creature that had been Eleanor asked. His apparent willingness to give himself up to her visibly threw her and he thought she seemed a little reluctant to follow through with her plan now that she was here. Dean and Sam would fight for those they considered their own and she knew that.

“No. I deserve death. I fully acknowledge it. I’m ready.” He wasn’t ready. In fact, he was more scared than he’d ever been in his entire existence.

“And when you’re done with him,” Sam demanded suddenly. “What then? You’ll just take the rest of them and leave us all alone? There’s an army right outside, Ellie, and we’ve seen what your kind can do. Are you sure you can control them?”

The strange sensation of time having slowed down continued, seconds stretching into minutes.

She didn’t answer, moving to grip Castiel’s jaw with cool, strong fingers. His head was forced back so far that it hurt his neck.

“This isn’t you.” Dean was nearly to her now, having slowly stepped closer through the conversation. “You’re not like the rest. We know that.”

“Think about this plan, Ellie.” Sam was closer as well. “Really think about it, then think about your army.”

Her swallow was a loud gulp and when she spoke, it sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “He made me like them.”

“You don’t have to be a monster or a killer.” Sam kept his attention on her. “It’s a choice. I know it’s hard. Believe me, I know. Don’t make us have to kill you. You can still turn this around, Ellie. Help us. Save us.”

“Bobby would never believe it to see you now.” Dean said it in a regretful tone.

She flinched at that. “They’ll kill me. I led them here after her and to tell them they can’t have their revenge would be my death.”

“You were willing to die a moment ago,” Dean reminded her. When she didn’t say anything, he tried again. “Ellie, I have a newborn daughter. She’d not even a week old yet. You can keep her from getting hurt.”

She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Damn it! That’s just the sort of appeal Bobby would have made to me….” She turned her attention to Dean. “Is Bobby here? Is he guarding your daughter?”

“Bobby’s dead, Ellie.” He kept saying her name, a reminder of her former self. “The church of Castiel killed him, but we think it may have been after they were under Meg’s control.”

Her features went stony, then her lower lip trembled and Castiel saw her desire for revenge fade. “Dead. Seems wrong to me that he’s gone.” Her hand dropped from Castiel’s face.

“We know.” Dean put an arm around her and his other moved, hand pressing the knife to her stomach. Castiel hadn’t noticed him pick it back up from the table, though he obviously had. “Do I have to kill you?” He turned his head, staring down at her. “I don’t want to. Bobby liked you. He sent me to see you when the dragons showed up. Do I have to push this knife in and see what it does to you? Or will you fight to be who you were before…or as much of her as you can be now? Know that if I have to kill you and you stop me, Sam can still pull you out of this body and burn you into nothingness. You will die today. You reach for Jimmy, and either I kill you or Sam does.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I want him dead, Dean. I still do.”

“Like I said before, I fully understand. I’ve been there. Will you help us?”

Ellie transferred her gaze to Castiel. “You’re suffering?”

“He hates being human. Probably hates it more this time than last time because it really is forever for him.” Dean lowered the knife.

“Good,” she spat, then looked up at Dean. “How do you think I can help you?”

“You can start by telling us how to defend ourselves against your kind.”

Castiel slowly relaxed, leaning back against the footboard. He didn’t think he could stand if he tried, his legs feeling like they were made of jelly. Two threats gone, presumably a third as well, and he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep for hours. As an angel, he’d taken his strength and healing ability for granted, but as a human, he was left wondering how Dean and Sam did this on a daily basis, for he’d found himself lacking.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes, Dean hated being right. If it wasn’t one thing, it was always another and Eleanor Visyak was that other thing right now. He did his best to diffuse the situation, mildly surprised when she did react how he’d thought she would in the end. He’d never thought her to be a killer. She’d proved as helpful as Bobby had thought she’d be. “Meg said she can control you, put you back in Purgatory or take you out. How?”

Pulling away, she sank down onto the side of Castiel’s bed. “Meg lied about a second door. The only way back into Purgatory aside from the door my blood helped to open is by dying and returning there. At least, those were the only ways we knew of. We’d been trying various rituals, but we did stumble on one that’ll help you protect your people here. Do you have paper and a pen?” With paper and a pen, she drew a symbol. “This works like a devil’s trap and it’s just as binding.”

“Okay.” He handed the paper to Sam. “Go make copies and get people on it?”

“Sure.” Sam left the cabin.

“Walk across camp with me.”

“Is that an order?”

“Strong suggestion.”

The faint hint of a smile turned her lips. “Very well.”

He took her to the infirmary, not missing how she shied back at first glimpse of the structure.

Ellie eyed the roof. “You can get a good start protecting them by finding a ton more of those and placing them along the fence line. I must say, though, that four is sufficient for any building. You merely need one per direction. There are enough for about three buildings up there.”

“They’re just plastic,” Dean told her, watching her reaction carefully. Just because she’d been Bobby’s girlfriend at one time didn’t mean she wouldn’t screw them over. She could still do so at any time.

Her glance held slight amusement. “Maybe so, but they’re also the image of the Keepers of the Borders in Purgatory. They’re like hellhounds. They primarily guarded Mother, though some packs were allowed to run free to police the rest of us. They have red eyes and deadly claws tipped with poison. Some are winged and fly, however most are land-bound. They’re fast and anyplace guarded by them is considered off-limits.”

Interesting. “How big is Purgatory?”

“How big is the earth? Or hell?” She shrugged. “Like earth, every thing has it’s prey and predator. The Keepers were the big dog on campus so to speak. None of us wanted to run into any of them. They can’t be kept as pets except by Mother and with her gone now…they’ll be running free in Purgatory with no one to keep them in hand. Being in Purgatory got a lot more dangerous for everyone when you killed Mother, Dean.”

“She was going to do some bad things. Had to.” He gestured at the roof again. “You’re sure it’ll keep them back?”

“Yes. Not many are brave, or stupid enough, to risk it. The real ones can look fairly lifeless and plastic when they choose.”

They stood for long moments, Ellie turning her back on the building as they talked, working out a plan for her to use when she left the camp. After a long moment of silence, he added, “You know, the offer to kill you still stands if you screw us over, Ellie.”

“I know. Who discovered the use for the gargoyles?”

“Ellen did. That’s Jo’s mom.”

“Who’s Jo?”

He ignored her question. “What else can you tell us?”

Sighing, she slid her hands in her jeans pockets. “The ones like me who’ve taken hosts will keep them until they’re sent back to Purgatory. Usually. We’re loyal to our hosts and take care of them. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”

He didn’t tell her what he thought of that relationship.

“The others, and I mean all of them, can be treated like hell demons. They’ll all disfigure their hosts, but only the lowest will drive them mad. The others will merely put their hosts in a catatonic state when they leave them, the bodies reverting to a human appearance. Meg thought your knife and the gun, the Colt, could kill them as well as hell demons. She also thought that whatever we are damages the human body, making it impossible for hell demons to take a host that one of us has had.”

“We knew that last one already.” At her questioning glance, he elaborated. “Crowley was in a sharing mood.” Crowley had had the Colt. He wondered where it was now and who was going to have it.

“I see. Did he also tell you that we can possess a body that already has a hell demon inside it?”

“He did not.” That upped them in the dangerous category. “A demon possessed by a demon. How nice.”

“It also makes that hell demon unable to leave the body once my kind leaves. The body is changed around them, locking them inside.”

Now that was definitely useful information. “Can they be exorcised?”

“Us or them?”

“Sure.”

She laughed. “Dean. My kind aren’t from hell, so unless you have an exorcism ritual geared towards Purgatory, my kind can’t be exorcised. The demons locked inside can’t be either. Good news, though. They can’t gain control any more than the host can so basically, they’re catatonic, too.”

“That could be messy.” How would they tell which catatonic people had hell demons inside them?

“This won’t be an easy war for you. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. You appear to know about silver and iron, however, and they’re your biggest weapons against us.”

“Don’t you mean it won’t be for us? You’re in this with us.”

She nodded. “Remember, Dean, that while we may seem like the bigger threat, we’re not. We’re finite in number and can’t escape Purgatory once we’re put back there. You can win this if you can hold out.”

“Big if.” The voice came from behind them. It was Jimmy. “Castiel emptied Purgatory. That’s billions of monster souls. The odds are against us.”

“They always are,” Dean quipped, looking over his shoulder at him. “It’s nothing new. She’s right. They’re a threat because of sheer numbers. With her help though, I think we can do some damage if they try to come here.”

Ellie watched him a long moment. “The lowest have short memories. They’ll be back to driving people mad very shortly.” She glanced around the camp. “Well, I’ll head out like we discussed, tell them she was given wrong information, that it was a trap to kill her. I’ll lead them away and try to keep them away. It might work and give you time to take care of those matters I suggested.”

As she moved down the path towards the gate, he gave orders to let her leave.

“You’re just letting her go,” Jimmy asked.

“Sometimes Jimmy, you have to gamble that the monster isn’t a threat to you.”

Dean strode towards the infirmary to tell everyone there what had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

Every word Dean said now made it seem like he knew the truth and Castiel waited on the path, sitting on one tree stump. Jody was the first to join him, then Sam, and finally Dean. The meeting was informal, Dean asking each of them for thoughts on how to proceed. Jody suggested they reinforce the fence and start adding the gargoyles to the fence line as they’d talked about. Sam added that some should be moved from the infirmary roof to their cabin roof and Dean had agreed. The symbol Ellie had given them would be added to the cabins and they’d beef up patrols for a few days.

They each received assignments. Dean was going to be just as busy as the rest of them.

Mindy approached, moving slowly to stand at Castiel’s side as Dean, Sam, and Jody finished up. He felt her hand on his arm, then his back, sliding in soothing passes back and forth. She waited patiently until Jody had moved towards the gate and Dean and Sam the infirmary.

Stepping even closer, she raised her free hand and pushed his hair from his brow. “You’re welcome to come stay with me tonight. I’ve only got that twin bed, but it’s not like we’ve never done that before.”

He considered the offer with all seriousness. The concern in her eyes made emotion rise inside him and he swallowed hard. “I can’t let the demon drive me from my cabin. She’s dead.”

Her fingers swept across his cheek. “I understand.” She dropped her hand, though her other still moved across his back. “Want some company now?”

“Can’t. Dean gave me some jobs to do.” They were oddly physical ones, too, which surprised him since he was all thumbs with tools. Maybe Dean thought if he had practice he’d be better with them?

“I’ll let you get on those then. If you change your mind, I’ll be with Ellen most of the afternoon.”

He spent the day attempting to perform those tasks Dean had assigned him and feeling completely inadequate in them. Removing many of the gargoyles they’d enthusiastically added to the infirmary roof wasn’t so bad, but putting them on the roof of Dean and Sam’s cabin was much harder for him. He did his best, putting in a long day before returning to his cabin.

Castiel sat down in the middle of the rug and stared at his bed. He’d forgotten to deal with the bed and had no energy left to go get clean sheets and a blanket. He was contemplating curling up on the rug and sleeping when a knock sounded at his door.

“Who is it,” he called warily. Caution was warranted after the events of the day.

“It’s Mindy. May I come in?”

He sighed and shifted position to face the door. “Of course.”

She had a large paper shopping sack in her arms, setting it on the small drop-leaf table by the wall. “Cooking team said you missed dinner.” Her hair was long and loose down her back and, despite the chilly air, she wasn’t wearing a jacket.

“I’m tired,” he explained.

“I’ll bet.” She rested one hand on her hip. “Fear is draining. Been there.”

Fear was draining, especially for a human body. “It is.”

“And then you worked hard all day on top of it.”

“I suppose.”

“Well, I brought you a sandwich, since I know you hardly keep any food here.”

“Mindy….”

“It’s peanut butter and loganberry jam, made the way you like it with peanut butter on both slices and the jam dropped between them. It’s even crunchy peanut butter.” Taking a container from the bag, she held it out, her manner coaxing. “Bread is fresh. Sliced it myself.”

“Crunchy,” he repeated. “With lots of jam?” He’d discovered that he had a regrettable sweet tooth half the time and loganberry jam seemed to curb it.

“How you like it.”

Getting up, he went to the table and sat down, taking the container from her and opening it. She set a bottle of water and a small bag of carrot and celery sticks on the table. Castiel ate a bite, then asked, “What else is in the bag?”

“Sheets and a couple blankets. I figured you’d forget to change everything once you got started working outside.”

Mindy made the bed while he ate. Once the bed was made, she crossed her arms and contemplated the space. “Mind if I move your furniture around?”

“Help yourself. Where are you moving it?”

“Mmm…. Places in this room so that earlier today will be just a bad faint memory.”

It occurred to him that she was trying to help him through it, like it was a traumatic experience. Castiel munched on a celery stick and pondered that thought. Was it traumatic? Was being pursued by a demon the sort of thing that deserved the gentle care she was showing? By two demons, he corrected himself.

Yes.

He blinked.

It was. He had had a traumatic day. “You’re spoiling me,” he said carefully.

“Yes, but after the day you had you deserve to be pampered.” She turned down the sheets and came back to the table. He could smell her perfume when she bent over and pressed a kiss near his ear. She had a freshly washed clean scent.

“Mindy….”

“Wash up,” she ordered in a whisper, moving to lay out a towel in front of the wash basin and set a washcloth on the stand. “I plan on spoiling you more.”

The slow striptease she performed while he washed was rousing, his body responding quickly to the tempting visual stimuli. The human body really was a beautiful thing, especially a woman’s body, and hers was perfectly proportioned in his opinion.

Mindy climbed onto the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she said with a smile. The seductive pose she struck had him hurrying to join her. He let her take control like he usually did. Her kisses were coaxing, her caresses sending pleasure through him. Mindy’s skin was warm and silky beneath his hands, her body pliant, and her perfume a welcome delicate scent.

He let his eyes slip shut as she began to kiss a path down his chest, stomach, and lower. His breath caught in his throat and he took a brief second to reflect on just how well sexual activity could relieve tension before he gave himself over to the act.

Chapter 32

By the time Sam was able to sit down in the cabin and relax, he was afraid the dream from earlier and the events that had occurred would have disappeared from his memory. It didn’t happen. It all remained fresh and he wrote it down in the notebook he’d been using as a journal. It wasn’t an official journal, merely a page or paragraph here and there of things he thought he should remember. He also noted Chuck’s appearances and that Chuck hadn’t been present for a couple days now.

When he was finished, he read back through it all.

His powers were different this time around. He’d known Meg was evil, his hand beginning to raise at the sight of her like a conditioned response to her evil. He’d had to force himself not to simply yank her from Constance’s body before getting answers. Yet with Eleanor Visyak, he’d had no such pull. He’d known she wasn’t evil and wasn’t going to follow through with her threat. His hand hadn’t raised in response to her and he hadn’t felt completely focused upon her, though he also knew he could have taken care of her if she’d become a threat.

How did he know the difference? How did he see the evil in one and no evil in the other? What part of him could tell? He’d described it as an instinct and it appeared that’s what it was. Instinct.

Sam looked down at his hands. They were normal hands, a bit scarred in places, but nothing different from anyone else’s hands. His held power, death to demons, and he didn’t need demon blood to access that power. Ruby had been right after all. This power had been his all along and he only had to figure out how he’d accessed it.

Maybe he didn’t need to figure that out? If it was really instinct, it’d be there when he needed to use it. What had turned that power back on? He recalled feeling drained of his power after killing Lilith and had done his best to forget about it. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of his folly in allying himself with Ruby. Had it always been there after that, lurking beneath the surface of him and he’d ignored it? Had some part of his scrambled brain switched on and kicked into high gear? He had to admit the power had been helpful against both kinds of demons. Frying the armies of both hell and Purgatory would make him a formidable enemy to them.

What should he do? He no longer desired the feeling of importance that destroying demons that way gave him. He didn’t want them to know his name for that; didn’t want the power or the responsibility that came with it. Sam was done with ambition. Look where it had gotten him.

He turned his thoughts to the dream instead. Closing his eyes, he remembered the round room and all the doors, then the sound of Michael’s voice. Had it been Michael this time or Lucifer, trying to trick him? If it was Michael’s voice, then what did it mean that he could hear him? Did it mean anything even?

The answer was there, Sam knew it was, but he couldn’t seem to form his thoughts around the facts clearly enough to interpret them and put it all together. He frowned, trying anyway.

He knew it was Michael’s voice, but then he’d been in the cage with both Lucifer and Michael. He’d heard it there. His mind could be drawing on that memory. Michael called to him, asked if he could hear him. Had that happened? Sam struggled to recall if that moment had occurred inside the cage, but all he had were the half-truths Lucifer had made him see. There were too many lies to sift through them and find the real moments.

What if that voice wasn’t a memory or his mind playing tricks?

Sam blinked, sitting up a little straighter. The fog surrounding his thoughts seemed to ease slightly, giving as he pushed back against it, determined to put something together that made sense.

What if he was really hearing Michael calling out to him from the cage?

The idea sent a chill through him and when Dean returned, he pretended to be writing, a whole new level of terror growing inside him.

What if he was still connected to the cage? And if he was, didn’t that mean that the Lucifer he’d seen and thought was a hallucination could be very real and very dangerous to him and all those around him?

~~~~~~~~~~

It was late when Dean returned to the cabin. Sam was still up, sitting on the couch and writing in a notebook. Taking off his jacket, Dean tossed it on the back of the couch and dropped down into the chair across from Sam.

“How’s Jo?” Sam closed the notebook. He looked pale in the low light and Dean thought he saw Sam’s hand trembling just a fraction.

“Wanted to move over here tonight. Had to do some fast talking to stop her.” His reasoning being that Ellie needed time to lead the PD’s far away. Tomorrow he’d move Jo and Beth here. “Why’re you still up? I thought you’d be sleeping after the, uh,” he made a gesture with one hand, “effort of earlier.” Meaning how Sam had used his powers against Meg. Sam had been hesitant to tell him, but at least he had told him. He wasn’t keeping what he’d done a secret. The entire powers thing still freaked Dean out and he knew that it was bothering Sam pretty badly.

“I’ve been thinking about some things.”

It sounded like the beginning of a conversation Sam wanted to have, but when he didn’t say anything more and the silence stretched out, Dean replied, “Me too.” Stretching his legs out, he sighed. “Been thinking about Jimmy and Castiel.”

“What about them?” Sam clipped the pen to the notebook.

“How much of what he told Ellie do you think is true?”

“You mean do I think he was awake the whole time or was he telling her a story about what he thought might have happened?”

“I do mean. She was planning on killing him. Wouldn’t have made sense to lie right then, but I remember Jimmy told us once that he only remembered pieces. Pieces, Sam. Put what he’s said these months with what he told her and it sounds like he was awake fairly consistently for well over a year. Doesn’t go with what he said previous.”

Now that Meg was gone and tension in other areas had lessened, his mind was churning through all of those details. He’d begun thinking about it the second danger had passed. Dean found himself recalling things he hadn’t remembered, like the way Jimmy had looked when that first girl in the camp had flirted with him. It hadn’t been the look of a man uncomfortably wrestling with bodily desires and a moral compass but rather the expression of someone who didn’t know what to do because he’d never had the experience before.

Like a man who’d once been an emotionless angel turned human as punishment for his crimes. Things like that popped into Dean’s mind, things he’d seen and managed to shove aside.

Why had he pushed those things away and ignored what they probably meant? Dean thought it may be because a part of him had wanted desperately for it to be true and for Jimmy to be alive. He’d wanted to see a man pick up the pieces of a shattered life and come out somehow whole in the end. He’d wanted to see someone do what he couldn’t seem to do himself.

He’d lied to himself and knew it.

“It’s not impossible, Dean. Could be that when Castiel first became corrupted he lost the ability to keep Jimmy suppressed. The first chink in his angel armor.”

“Could be,” he agreed, then shook his head, “but think about him as a whole person. I mean, since that day by my gravesite.”

Sam was quiet a minute. “He’s been what Castiel wasn’t: present and always accessible, almost selfless --”

“But he doesn’t really seem like Jimmy Novak, does he? Repentant and claiming he has to make up for what Castiel did. Why? It’s not his fault. He’s not responsible for anything Castiel did or said. Why is it so important to him? I keep trying to remember Jimmy from when we met him that first time and, Sam, I can’t put the two together. Who he is now is not who he was then. They’re not the same person.”

Sam chuckled. “Neither are we. We’ve all changed. Happens.”

“I know, but this is….” He looked away, teeth biting briefly into his lower lip as he thought about it. Reconciling the two was a problem he couldn’t get past. “Doesn’t mix. It’s almost like he’s a copy of Jimmy. A good copy, but a copy. He’s Cylon Jimmy.”

“He does still have Castiel in there, remember?”

“Does he? How sure are we that’s the truth here?” Sitting up, he leaned forward. “That’s another thing that bothers me. If Castiel is shoved inside his body and powerless, then how is that in any way justice for Jimmy? To have that betraying dick stuck in his head for life? That’s just another sort of prison. I’d think justice would have been for Jimmy to be released from him and to get his family back. It’d be to be free of Castiel completely.”

“What sort of family man would he be now, though?” He raised a hand, scratching a finger at his temple as he frowned. “I don’t think his family would recognize him. Wife might not be able to handle how he is now. She had a hard enough time back then.”

Dean held up a finger. “Another thing. He has a girlfriend and not just a chaste sort of thing either. He was a devout guy. The whole sex out of marriage bit doesn’t fit.”

“How many things are bothering you about Jimmy?”

“A few,” he admitted. “Jimmy loved his wife. I remember that. He loved her, loved his daughter, and I thought that that love for his wife was the real thing. You know?” At Sam’s nod, he continued. “Was it real? How could it go away even with what he went through? I’d think he’d…I don’t know…cherish it or something.”

Sam leaned forward as well. “He had time to mourn losing them while Castiel was in control. I think he let them go long before the grave site and suspected then we wouldn’t find them. Probably, his wife filed for divorce on grounds of abandonment when she understood he wouldn’t be back. I’ll bet she remarried and that’s why we couldn’t find her.”

“Maybe. Bothers me. Doesn’t add up. And he’s gotten weird the past few days. Have you noticed? He acts like Jo’s gonna punch him. Won’t go near her on his own.”

“She might punch him.”

He had to concede the truth on that. Jo just might if she thought it was Castiel talking to her and not Jimmy. “True.”

A sigh left Sam. “I don’t know, Dean. He doesn’t really seem like Castiel either.”

“So who is he then? Who is he really and why has he been lying to us? Is he Jimmy with Castiel inside and I’m imagining things? Or is he Castiel, still lying through his teeth and digging himself deeper? If it’s him, you’d think he would have learned his lesson about lying after last time.”

Although, if he’d lied about being Jimmy he’d lied while lying on the ground thinking Dean was going to kill him. He’d lied in an attempt to save his own life. He’d laid there powerless and had to have wondered if he’d been made that way only to die immediately and in agonizing pain. Panic would have been coursing through his body along with the knowledge that the last thing Dean would do would be to let him live if he admitted he was still one hundred percent Castiel.

In that case, in that situation, the lie was understandable and it was also understandable that he’d continued it. It would explain a lot of the things that bugged Dean.

He frowned, hating that he could understand that and the course that would have followed: spending the days carefully treading a line, wondering how to come clean, and agonizing over it while knowing that admitting the truth meant death. Each day would feel like a death sentence.

“Let me guess…. We’re going to watch him.”

“Like a hawk.”

“Dean, maybe it’s as simple as he has trouble keeping Castiel completely suppressed sometimes. I mean, you beat the crap out of him a few months ago when he implied he was Castiel and tried to apologize.”

They’d both been drinking and Dean hadn’t been in a forgiving mood about anything right then, wallowing in a rough patch where he’d wanted Bobby back to give them advice, Ellen to snap them back in line, and Jo to lie down with at night and pretend everything was okay as the world fell apart even further. He’d been in a bad way and hearing those words in Castiel’s way of speaking had pushed him over the edge. He’d grabbed Jimmy’s shirt and begun to punch him, unfazed by how he hadn’t fought back. Jimmy had laid there, refusing to defend himself and that refusal had incensed Dean. He’d had to be dragged off of Jimmy that night.

Another evidence he probably was Castiel. Castiel didn’t do things by halves. Not really. When he became an ally, he was one. When he went bat shit crazy and tried to be a god, he did it until he was smacked down and forced from it. And when he hit a patch of depression, he lost all thought of personal safety. Dean remembered he’d once drunk an entire liquor store in an effort to get drunk.

If he’d thought it was a right and just punishment that Dean beat him to death, he’d lie there and let it happen.

Dean rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Maybe it is and if that’s the case I’ll let it go. I’ll chalk all these things that don’t add up as that and circumstances.”

“And if it’s the other? If it’s Castiel trying to hide?”

Once it would have been simple. He would have killed him right then, taken out his gun and shot him in the head.

Simplicity had flown away. Nothing was simple and, as the months had passed, that situation had become complicated. He’d gotten to know the man who said he was Jimmy and he sort of liked him. That man had been helpful, had acted without malice, had taken crap jobs with a calm nod, and had made a place for himself that couldn’t easily be filled. He’d spent time with Sam that Sam appeared to enjoy. He’d made friends and Dean knew Mindy would certainly mourn if Dean killed him. There were people and situations within the situation that had to be considered.

This couldn’t be a rash, heat of the moment decision. There would have to be careful consideration before anything was done.

But first…. They had to determine what the truth was. Was he Jimmy with a side of Cas? Or was he Castiel?

The evidence was pointing in the very direction Dean hoped wasn’t true. Castiel and only Castiel. Sam made good points, but it didn’t feel right with the evidence. Dean didn’t really need to consider the question of who Jimmy was and he thought he’d probably known it all along. Deep down, he’d known Jimmy was really Castiel.

But would Castiel be able to admit it?

“We deal with him. Together.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mornings came too early in Jo’s opinion. Beth woke early, needing a diaper change and feeding. No one stepped in to help her and Jo was glad. The past few days had been nice, but she needed to do this herself. After all, she was a mother now and by the end of the day it’d basically be just her and Dean taking care of their daughter.

She completed both tasks in the solitude of the back room of the infirmary and couldn’t wait to be in the cabin instead. Living here was already old. Jo cradled Beth to her a moment, then laid her in the bassinet.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised. The baby responded by fussing and Jo tried to ignore it. It wasn’t good to hold her every time she fussed and Jo had to get things done. She took a shower in the small stall in the bathroom, glad she didn’t have to go to the communal showers and back, then dressed and set about giving Beth a bath. It was harder than both Ellen and Morgan made it look, but the smell of baby shampoo made her smile.

Jo left Beth with Ellen and Morgan and went to assess the situation at the cabin. She paused outside, wondering if she should knock and wait or just go in. Jo knocked and eased the door open. “Dean,” she called out in a soft voice as she stepped inside.

“You’re early.” He was standing at the kitchenette counter, a mug in hand, hair wet, and towel wrapped about him. It rode low on his hips and she drank the sight in.

Sam’s door was closed and she approached Dean, smelling fresh coffee that she wasn’t going to be able to drink for awhile yet. “I was awake…and mom and Morgan practically kicked me out of the building. It’s a good thing mom’s not exactly able to go out shopping. She’s cooing like she’s never seen a baby before.”

“She’s happy. Don’t blame her.” He led her into the bedroom and set the mug down. “From being dead to alive to being a grandma. Quite a transition in about a year.”

She followed him, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. There, in the corner, was a crib and she gestured at it. “When did you do this?”

“Wasn’t me.” He picked up a thermal shirt and button down shirt from a laundry basket. “Jimmy and team picked up a few things. He had a guy working on this while you were giving birth.”

“Did he?”

“He did.”

Jo wasn’t sure how she felt about that. While he still felt like Castiel, and had responded when she’d yelled his name as the demon had reached for him, he wasn’t behaving like the same Castiel she remembered. He was kinder, gentle. He’d carried her to get her to a safe place to give birth and she realized she had yet to thank him for that.

Dean set the shirts with a pair of jeans tossed across the chair and came to her, grasping her hips. “You look tired.”

“I am tired. She doesn’t sleep through the night yet.” She rested her hands on his biceps, then slid them up to his shoulders and let him draw her closer. “I think I got maybe two hours in a row at a time last night.”

“Mmm.” Lowering his head, he began to press kisses to her neck. “I think you need to lie down.”

“You do?” Jo smiled and leaned her head back so he could change sides.

“I do. Lie down, rest for a bit…. Might be the last quiet moment we have for awhile.”

She pressed a hand to his cheek, felt the freshly shaven smoothness there, and moved her hand around to cup the back of his neck. “For awhile,” she agreed.

They lay in bed, her in her underwear by the time he was done ‘making her comfortable’ and him naked. She had a moment of uncertainty in her body image, but then he was sliding his hands along her skin and murmuring how beautiful he thought she was. He didn’t seem to see that she was going to have a couple months of serious diet and exercise work to bounce back physically and Jo understood suddenly that he didn’t see that. All he saw was the woman who’d given birth to his daughter and the woman he’d spent months hoping would return to him. The rest didn’t even register.

Dean laid his hand on her stomach, then slid it around to her side. “Last time we laid here together, I couldn’t hold you as close as I wanted.”

“You can now.”

He remedied the situation, tucking her tight against him. “Mmm…. Glad you’re back, Jo.”

“Me, too. Sure beats the alternative.”

They cuddled and talked in low voices about trivial things for about half an hour. At that point, Dean drew back a fraction. “I need your help with something.”

He explained the situation and Jo was relieved that she hadn’t been imagining things. “You think he’s been pretending the whole time?”

“I think he has. Sam said some things could be true, but it doesn’t feel right to me.”

She sighed and raised up to rest her head on her hand. “I still have that feeling when I’m around him.”

“The crawly sensation?”

“Yeah, that one. It doesn’t go away. Could just be a reaction to him being there in Jimmy --”

“But you don’t think that any more than I do.”

“No, I don’t.” She watched as Dean heaved a long sigh that ended in a groan and rolled onto his back.

He slid one hand beneath his head on the pillow. “I don’t want this, Jo. I don’t want to deal with him again. Seems like all I do is deal with Castiel in one form or another.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“I should. It’s my knee-jerk response, but I don’t know that it’s the right thing to do. Used to be simple, you know? He turned into a monster and I knew I had to kill him and I didn’t when I had the chance because I thought he was some guy named Jimmy. One more victim of the supernatural.” He shook his head. “No, I hoped he was Jimmy,” he corrected himself. “I think I always knew he wasn’t.”

“Has he done anything since that day to hurt anyone?”

“Not a thing. Goes out of his way not to be in such a position that that might happen and the time he spends with Sam….”

“Has it helped Sam?” She’d heard Sam’s words on ‘Jimmy’ before and knew that Sam had found his presence helpful. Sam liked spending time with him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, took two long slow breaths, and reopened his eyes. “Maybe. Hard to tell with Sam’s condition. He’s up and down and all over the place depending on the day. You’d think that medicine would be consistent. What do I do here?” Turning his head, he looked at her, his indecision in his eyes. “What would you do?”

“Me?” She raised her brows. “I’d probably punch him for lying to me for months, but if he’s really human now? I don’t know. You’re right. It’s complicated, because if he’s behaving the way you said, it indicates he’s trying to maybe atone --”

“Can a person atone without admitting what he did? He’s never owned up to it, Jo. He did say he was sorry to me once, but never said why he was sorry. I think atonement, real atonement, needs to begin with admitting what he did to the people he did it to.”

“So give him the chance to do that and see where it goes. Not like he’s going anywhere, is it?”

“No. He pretty much stays here.”

She sat up. “Well, we’re all here now, except for Bobby. All the people he hurt directly. If there’s a perfect time to start asking for forgiveness, it’s now. I say we give him time and see if he does that.”

“And if he doesn’t? What then?”

“We confront him, but one way or another? We finish it.” Leaving the bed, Jo pulled her clothes back on and brought Dean his. “Let’s go get breakfast. I’m hungry.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was later than usual when Castiel woke and he watched Mindy dress slowly and without turning on the lights. By now, Mindy was as familiar with his cabin as her own. She’d certainly stayed over enough.

“Coming to breakfast,” she asked.

“In awhile.”

“See you there, then.” Bending, she kissed him and touched his cheek. “Do you feel better this morning?”

“Yes.” It was the truth. There was a calm that came from pretty much revealing himself to Sam and Dean. He’d known he couldn’t avoid it forever and their confrontation was going to happen. It was simply a matter of waiting for it to happen now.

“Good. I’ll be helping Jo move today, but should be available by afternoon if you want to get together again. Let me know.”

Castiel watched her leave. He liked having her around. She was a pleasant companion and familiar enough with his moods to begin anticipating him. Like the previous night….

He sat up quickly.

It wasn’t simply a case of liking her and finding some physical pleasure with her. That understanding dropped into his mind like a heavy rock. Somewhere along the way, he’d begun to develop feelings for her. He liked her and this sensation he had when around her…. It was affection and not merely affection, but the romantic sort. Castiel cared for Mindy. He cared if she got hurt and with that realization came another one.

She cared for him, too. It was in her actions and in how she looked at him. The small smile she’d had before she’d left…. He’d seen Jo look at Dean the way Mindy looked at him.

“Oh, no,” he breathed. “Bad. This is bad.”

When the truth emerged and his death from it inevitably occurred, she would be hurt by it. Yet he couldn’t break it off with her to save her from that hurt because to do so would hurt her just as much. He’d managed to get himself emotionally entangled in a way he’d never felt before. It was one thing to be emotional over Dean and now Sam. Mindy was a different sort of situation and he wasn’t sure what to do or how to resolve it without her being hurt one way or another. Castiel didn’t want her in pain over him.

Getting up, he threw on a robe and took a shower at the nearest bath building. He dressed and went to eat breakfast, watching Mindy as she worked the line. She had a smile for everyone and he knew her words would be encouraging. An ache began to grow in his chest because she would be hurt and there was nothing he could do about it. When the time came, was there any chance that perhaps Dean would let him take Mindy and leave the camp? Would Mindy want to go though?

Dean was right. Being human sucked.

A tray thumped on the table beside him and he looked up to see Dean standing there.

“You’re in late this morning.” Dean began setting out the contents in two places. Two sets of silverware, two napkins, and two plates of eggs and toast, one with more than the other.

“I slept in.”

“Don’t blame you. Sam’s still passed out. Snoring, too, but he’d never admit that.” Finished divvying up the items, he sat.

Jo approached, moving slowly. She was carrying a tray with mugs and glasses on it and Castiel wondered where the baby was. She answered like he’d asked her that question. “Mom’s got Beth. She and Morgan are fighting over her this morning and over who is going to watch her while I move us into Dean’s room at the cabin.”

“Oh. The crib should be set up.”

“I saw. Thanks.” She set the drinks out and eased into the chair. Apparently her slow moving wasn’t because of the tray of full cups and glasses. Jo relaxed with a tiny sigh. “And thanks for the other day.”

“For what?”

“Carrying me. Thank you…Jimmy.”

“You’re welcome. You needed to get there fast and it was the quickest way.” He waited for Dean to say something about the things he’d said to Eleanor Visyak, but he said nothing. Why? What was he waiting for?

“You look like maybe you didn’t sleep well,” she observed.

“Mindy spent the night.”

Jo smirked at that.

Dean gave a knowing nod. “Ahh. That kind of not sleeping well. We’re not twenty-five anymore. Those younger babes tire us out easily.” Dean shrugged his brows and leered at Jo, who blushed a fraction and picked at her breakfast with the air of a woman greatly satisfied with herself.

He didn’t explain that that wasn’t what he’d meant.

“Mindy’s a nice girl,” Dean said before sipping his coffee. “Willing to learn the job, open to possibilities. Seems pretty stable.”

“And she knows babies,” Jo interjected. “Said she was the oldest of six growing up.”

Castiel nodded. All things he already knew. “She’s very nice.”

He waited for Dean to ask him to go outside the camp with him. Should be coming any time now. He’d say it was an easy job, in and back out, no need for a big team. Just the two of them. Would he give Castiel time to say some sort of goodbye to people or insist they leave immediately after breakfast? Could go either way.

His imagination filled in what would happen next. They’d leave the camp, Dean drive a ways, far enough that a gunshot wouldn’t be too alarming to the camp. Maybe he’d talk along the way, tell Castiel he knew he’d been lied to, or maybe he wouldn’t. It would depend on how furious he was by that.

But he wasn’t acting angry right now. His demeanor was that of a man who had a full day of responsibilities ahead of him.

The hand that raised his mug to his mouth shook and Castiel wrapped his other hand around the mug. Coffee quit spilling over the brim. Neither Dean nor Jo said anything and he cast a glance their way. Jo was sipping at her small glass of juice, her attention on Dean and Dean was busy eating.

Castiel imagined getting out of the vehicle for his execution. He hoped he’d have the dignity not to cry or plead, but suspected he’d do both, blubbering out the words ‘I’m sorry’ until the moment Dean put a bullet through his head. Would Dean bother burying his body or would he leave it to be picked apart by animals?

“You okay?”

Dean’s voice startled him from his grim prediction and he jerked, coffee sloshing onto his tray. “Thinking about a nightmare I have.”

“Best forget it. New ones always come along.”

“That’s a cheery thought.” Jo snorted and stirred the liquid in her mug.

“It is the truth,” Castiel replied. “The nightmares don’t end and I have double the fears to dream about. I always have nightmares.”

“That’s sad.” She picked at her eggs. “Do you ever have happy dreams? Surely you do. Everyone does.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Sometimes I dream that everything is okay and nothing changed. I dream that I’m myself and no one else. And sometimes…. Sometimes I dream that it’s all over and I can rest.” He supposed his words could be taken two different ways. Jimmy longing for his old life or an end to this one or Castiel wishing he’d made different choices and wanting his punishment over.

“Not much different from some of my dreams.” Dean picked up a small container of jelly, opened it, and began spreading it on his last two sections of toast. “A couple weeks back, I dreamed Sam and I were only weeks on the road together, still looking for dad, hadn’t even met Ellen and Jo yet. The windows were down on Baby, scenery was going by, and I was teasing him about something. He laughed. I haven’t heard Sam laugh that way in very long time.” He finished with the toast and set the knife down. “And last night, I dreamed he was okay again. Peaceful. Able to hunt. We stood by Baby and the front gates to camp opened. He looked at me and said, ‘Lot of people need saving now. Let’s get to work.’.”

“Dreaming of running away, huh?” Jo squeezed her hand into a fist, napkin clenched inside it.

Castiel thought Jo was teasing, yet he saw a tiny speck of fear in her eyes. Why did she worry? She was the mother of Dean’s child. He’d hardly leave her willingly. Even Castiel knew that.

“Wasn’t like that, Jo. Hard to explain. It was more like the two of us and the world were back in a place where we could work again. We could hunt like we used to. We weren’t leaving to leave, but to hunt things and save people.”

“The family business.” She shoved her plate aside.

“Yeah.” Dean picked up a slice of toast. “Guess I miss that, the way it was. Camp is a necessity and we do some of that now, but it’s not the same. The saving we do is different.”

“I know. I miss it, too,” Jo admitted, crossing her arms. “I miss a world that had order to it.”

Castiel looked down at his tray and was contemplating a couple different ways of excusing himself when Dean pushed his plate away and sat back, turning a measuring stare on him. Cas didn’t dare move or say anything. Now is the time, he thought. Here it comes. My life is going to end today.

“How much of what you told Ellie was true?”

Not what he’d thought was coming. “All of it.”

“He tried to assassinate a Fate?”

“Yes. He and Balthazar.”

“And how did they draw her out?”

“They un-sunk the Titanic.”

Jo sucked in a sharp breath.

Castiel arranged his own dishes on his tray, not looking at either of them. “It had the effect of adding souls that were needed for power and drawing out Atropos. It also raised Jo and Ellen because it gave you other hunters in Carthage. They never died and you never remembered they’d died, negating that pain for you.” He glanced up, braving looking at them.

“Why the Titanic? Why not stopping Hitler or something like that?” Jo reached for her juice glass and sipped at the remaining liquid.

He cleared his throat, wishing he still had something to drink because his throat was dry. “By the calculations that were made, the Titanic would have done the job needed and give Dean people he loved back. The calculations were done ahead of time. He was careful.” It had been more about the power however. Castiel could admit that to himself now. The side effect for Dean had simply been the icing on that particular cake.

“At least he was consistent on that.” Jo wiped her hands on her crumpled napkin. “The claiming that he did things for you, Dean.”

“How did it get reversed?” Dean stacked his and Jo’s plates and put them on one tray, then stacked the trays.

Castiel could have sworn Dean knew some of this already. “Atropos caught them. She threatened you and Sam, pointed out that her sisters would avenge her death.”

He leaned slightly towards Castiel, brows raising a tiny bit. “Do you really think Atropos is tormenting you?”

You. He hadn’t said Castiel, he’d said ‘you’. His heart felt like it was going to beat right through his chest and his palms grew damp with sweat. “To be honest, I’m uncertain why some of my accidents haven’t been fatal. There could be other explanations, but I believe she’s the likeliest scenario, perhaps even a special assignment.”

Jo’s stare was cool and unblinking and he wondered what was going on in her mind before deciding it was probably better that he didn’t know. “Maybe it’s simply part of Castiel’s punishment? To be forced to live when he doesn’t want to. To have to live when death would be the easier way.”

“How would death be easier,” he asked her.

It was Dean who answered. “Because if he died he wouldn’t have to own up to everything he did one by one. He wouldn’t have to face the people he betrayed and hurt and he wouldn’t have to face himself.”

In that second, Castiel was positive that Dean did know. It wasn’t a case of him trying to fit the pieces together. He’d already done that. After all, Dean Winchester was a smart man. He could read people and had to be good at it for the job. The knowledge that the man he’d thought was Jimmy was really Castiel all along was in Dean’s eyes and Dean was waiting to see if Castiel had the guts to do what he’d just said. Own up to everything and face everyone.

He wanted to say that he did and to do it, but underneath that want, Castiel found he was still a coward. He couldn’t force himself to say the words. Not yet. Not today. His let his gaze fall from Dean’s.

How long would Dean wait before he forced the issue? It would happen. One of these days, Dean would be tired of waiting for Castiel to do the right thing.

“I have things I need to get done today.” Castiel announced and got up, taking his own dishes to the kitchen.

At a last glance, it wasn’t Jo still watching him, but Dean, his eyes narrowed and face impassive.

Chapter 33

After having dealt with Meg, narrowly escaped being killed by Eleanor Visyak, and realized his charade was at an end, the last thing Castiel wanted to do was have a conversation with either Ellen or Jo in private. Ellen, however, had a different idea. He should have known she’d find an opportunity as soon as she was mobile enough.

She was at his cabin door not long after he returned from breakfast, banging on it and pushing past him into the cabin when he opened the door. One of her crutches missed slamming down on his bare toes by about an inch.

“You’d better tell me what you’re up to Castiel, or so help me --”

“Ellen, calm down,” he told her, which wasn’t the thing to say as the fire in her eyes increased.

“You don’t have the right to tell me to calm down,” she snapped. “Start talking.”

“I thought you were watching the baby.”

“Morgan has her. Talk.”

“I’m Jimmy.”

“Bullshit.” The word was spat out. “You’re Castiel. Do you think I don’t see it? Dean and Sam would too if they weren’t distracted by their own problems and I’ll bet you counted on that.”

“I’m Jimmy,” he repeated, attempting to stifle a wince and failing.

She moved forward, close in the way that had always made Dean give him a lecture on personal space. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

“It’s a complicated situation.”

“Tell the truth and shame the devil,” she replied.

He almost laughed. “I’m both Jimmy and Castiel.” It was technically the truth. Jimmy’s body and Castiel’s being.

Her brows rose, though he could see she was merely amused by the proclamation. She didn’t believe it. “Go on.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want the truth or is that too hard for you to comprehend? Truth means you tell me why you’re pretending to be someone you’re not and why you’re not telling Dean and Sam that you’re you.”

“I said --”

She waved a hand. “I heard. You’re both. Tell me.”

“Ellen, look…. Castiel is trying to atone for his sins. He’s in here and he’s doing everything he can to make a new life and not make the mistakes he made before when he had powers and was --”

“The third person is a nice touch, but I’m not buying it. You’re Castiel.” Hobbling over to the chair, she eased down into it and laid her crutches aside. “Now, you start at the point Jo and I last saw you and go from there. Go slow. We have time.”

There was no putting her off. He tried. She kept returning to the assertion he was Castiel, as tenacious as a bloodhound on a trail. Finally, he sighed and sat down on the floor across from her, about as far as he could get from the reach of her crutches. Slowly, he told her the story, trying to lay out the change inside himself so that she’d understand.

When he was done, she sighed and shook her head. “That’s a fine kettle of fish. You do know you’re digging yourself deeper with every day you call yourself Jimmy, right?”

“I know.” Raising a knee, he wrapped one arm around it. “I just don’t know how to admit to it. I really thought I’d manage a few days, then gather my courage and admit it, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look Dean in the eye and admit everything. Even now the thought of doing that terrifies me.”

“Don’t wait too long. Dean Winchester isn’t a man you want angry with you.”

“I got that memo a long time ago, Ellen. And….”

“What? What else is there? Tell me.”

He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Dean does know. He, um, let me know he does in a roundabout way at breakfast.”

“And you didn’t come clean right that second?”

“No.”

Her sigh was long and frustrated. “Castiel, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Fear sort of trumps that, especially since I’m very human at the moment.” He leaned back against the footboard. “I think Jo knows as well.”

“She is my kid. I trained her.”

“I think it’s more than that, Ellen.”

“I knew at a glance,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but I knew I couldn’t hide from you at all. I never tried. I spoke to you as myself right after you arrived when you were sick with fever. Out of all of them, I think you were always actually able to see into me. Dean, he knows me, but you….” He shrugged. “Ellen, you’ve always seen me. You see all of us.”

“Barkeep’s gift.” She slid down a little in the chair.

“Is it?”

“Sure. It’s seeing past the bullshit and knowing who is gonna give you trouble and need tossed out on their ass.”

“Do I need tossed out?”

She studied him and he forced himself to sit there silently while she did. “Not today.”

He tipped his head back. “I’m sorry I did all those things. I am. To you and Jo. To Sam and Dean. To Bobby and Jody. Bobby was included in the threats. He gave you all sanctuary in his house. He was there when I….” He squeezed his eyes shut, took a bracing breath, opened his eyes, and continued. “He was present when I thought I’d become God. I did hurt him as well, only he’s gone and I can’t tell him I’m sorry.”

“Refresh my memory. What’d you do to Jody?”

“Jody lost her job.”

“Did you make that happen?”

“It wasn’t directly me, it was --”

Ellen reached for her crutches and stood. “Don’t do that. Don’t fall into the same sort of trap Dean has for taking the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’re not responsible for everything, Cas. You take responsibility for what’s yours to be responsible for.”

It sounded almost like a riddle and he replied, “Ellen, I am responsible for everything. I thought I was God. I did damage to the entire world on a level I don’t think it can recover from. The ripples of my actions have hurt more people than --”

“Are those people here?”

“No.”

“Then you deal with those that are here. Who did you hurt directly?”

“Sam. Dean. Jo. You.”

“You and me,” she gestured back and forth with a finger. “We’re fine as long as you don’t start going around hurting people again. But just so you know, I will bust your ass if you do.”

“You would forgive me?”

“Not my forgiveness you need. Start going through your list.” She moved towards the door, then stopped, half looking over her shoulder at him. “If I were you, I’d go to Jo and Sam in the next day and get square with them, then take them with you to talk to Dean. They might could slow him down enough to where he’ll listen when you start apologizing.”

“Thank you, Ellen.”

She left without comment.

~~~~~~~~~~

As she and Mindy packed the items Jo wanted to move to the cabin, Morgan studied her. Sam had agreed to have dinner, but she thought it’d be better if it wasn’t just the two of them. He needed more time for that and she was willing to give him time.

“Sam and I are having dinner tonight. Would you and Jimmy like to join us?”

Mindy closed one box. “Seriously?”

“Sure. Sam and Jimmy are friends, right? It’ll be fun.”

She turned, gaze assessing. “And put Sam at ease.” Her surprise must have shown on her face, for Mindy laughed. “Sam hasn’t had a date in months that I know of and he seems a little shy at times. He sticks to himself a lot. You’re not shy, Morgan. Put the two together and I’ll bet you’ve got him all flustered. Makes sense to have friends come. It’s thoughtful and I think he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

When it was time to meet Sam, Morgan found herself nervous. She wished she had makeup to wear, but told herself that Sam had seen her plenty of times already with no makeup and seemed to like how she looked. Makeup was a vanity thing.

He was waiting outside the dining hall, an apprehensive expression on his face. “Morgan, hi. You’re right on time.”

“I try. Shall we go in, or do you want to wait for Jimmy and Mindy?”

“I thought it was just the two of us tonight?”

She smiled. “At first, I thought it should be, but when I really thought about it, I realized you might not be ready for a one-on-one date.”

His lips curved, teeth flashing in a quick grin. “That skittish am I?”

“Like a wild animal,” she teased and stepped back a fraction, beckoning with one hand. “Come on, Sam,” she coaxed. “Come with me….”

A snort of laughter left him. “Alright, let’s go in. They can find us inside.”

They commandeered a table at the back, a small one. She was glad she’d asked Mindy and Jimmy to join them because Sam’s pleasure in seeing them was there in his eyes. Conversation was easy, though it seemed like she and Mindy were the ones doing all the talking.

Finally, Sam spoke up. “What do you miss, Morgan? About the world before?”

“Define ‘before’ for me.”

“Before the PD’s. Before Jo and Ellen showed up for an appointment. Before those sort of things happened.”

She thought about it. “I miss getting a chai tea latte from Panera on the way in to work and sipping it while I go over email and my appointment schedule before opening the office. I miss the friends who died in that town during the months we were trapped by the quarantine. I miss my patients.”

He nodded. “Jimmy? How about you?”

Jimmy blinked. “Um…. I suppose I miss a world that hasn’t already slid halfway into hell.”

Morgan pursed her lips. “You’re not really a cheery kind of guy, are you, Jimmy?”

He glanced at Mindy, then Morgan, and asked, “I’m sorry. Was that the wrong answer?”

“What else,” Sam prodded him. “Something personal to you.”

“Oh.” Jimmy picked at the remains of his dinner. “Then I guess I miss being who I was.”

“Which one?” Sam took a sip of coffee. “I mean, the you with Amelia, the one who sacrificed himself for his daughter, or --”

“Sam.” Morgan couldn’t believe he was asking that. It seemed cruel to her to remind Jimmy of those times.

“It’s okay, Morgan.” Jimmy set his fork down. “It’s a valid question. There are several me’s to choose from. I mean the me who believed in something enough to sacrifice myself for it. I haven’t been him in a long time and I think he was the best version of me.”

There was an odd expression in Sam’s eyes. Morgan didn’t know him well enough to know what it meant. “Maybe he’ll come back,” he suggested and moved on to Mindy. “How about you?”

Mindy slid her tray aside. “Nothing. I miss nothing.”

“Are you serious?” Morgan slid her plate to one side on the tray and reached for her gelatin dessert. A strange thing to say. Didn’t they all miss something?

“Yup. Unbelievable, right?” Her grin was almost mischievous. “There are things I miss a little, but nothing that’s really important to me. I wasn’t a doctor, a hunter, or an angelic vessel. I was average. I worked at Wal-Mart and took classes at the community college in hopes of someday amassing enough credits to get a degree. I don’t miss that life and I’m even a little relieved I don’t have to live it anymore. I have good friends here. A guy I enjoy spending time with. I want to move forward. Circumstances change. A man can go from being rich to poor in a day, so why dwell on the past. There’s a future to shape and we’re the ones who are going to shape it. Kind of exciting in a way.”

“You make the best of what you have when you have it?” Jimmy half turned in his chair to look at her.

Mindy pointed at him. “Bingo.”

“That’s a little deep,” Sam told her.

She laughed. “Nah. I’m not deep. I’m practical. What about you, Sam? What do you miss?”

He studied each of them in turn before shrugging. “Saving people. I know I can still do the research and that part, but what I miss is saving people, being out in the field, and making the world safer. I didn’t know just how much I’d miss it until I couldn’t do it at all. Who here wants me driving a car and handling a gun as I am now?”

No one raised a hand.

“I’m a hunter who can’t hunt. I could do other things with my limited capabilities,” he acknowledged, “but I know now that what I want is to hunt. Damned if I can do it, though. Sucks, doesn’t it? By the time I finally figured out where I belonged and what I wanted, I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“You decided?” Jimmy sat up, crossed his arms, and rested them on the table edge.

“A couple months ago. And it’s not that I miss being out there with Dean, though that’s part of it. I could do the job alone if I was able and had to. If Dean chose not to be a hunter, I know now that I would --”

“If you were able,” Jimmy finished for him.

“In a second.”

Mindy exchanged a glance with Morgan and said, “Well, not to derail an emotional topic and good conversation, but there’s a line of people waiting for seats. Why don’t we take a stroll through camp?”

Morgan was glad to take a late walk through the camp. It was chilly enough that she could stay close to Sam. The smells of wood smoke and cooking food were in the air and she took a deep breath. They’d gone only a few feet when Sam took her hand in his.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam strolled with Morgan along one of the paths, their fingers linked. There’d been no reason for him to have been nervous. Jo had told him that. Even Dean had told him that. He’d thought Dean might tease him about finally having a date, but he hadn’t. He’d appeared to be too busy giving Beth a bath in the sink to attempt it and Sam was grateful for that. Any teasing may have made him change his mind.

“I thought you said Jimmy used to be married.” Morgan was frowning, watching Jimmy and Mindy ahead of them.

“He was. Had a wife and daughter.”

“Really.” She sounded like she didn’t believe him.

“Why?”

“He acts like he doesn’t know how to behave with a woman.”

One of Dean’s observations. “Mindy’s his second girlfriend here. She knew she wanted him and she pursued him. Maybe he feels guilty. I mean, we weren’t able to find his family. They could still be alive and having a girlfriend with his wife alive would be against his personal beliefs.”

“He was a man of faith?”

“Yeah and it bit him in the ass ever since he said yes to being an angelic vessel. It cost him everything.”

“I see.” She turned her back to them and stopped. “He’s kind of weird, Sam.”

“How so?”

“You don’t see it?”

“See what?” What was she driving at?

Morgan shook her head. “Never mind. It’s not my business.”

“No, tell me.”

She sighed. “He’s…oddly devoted to Dean and to you.”

“We helped him twice to try and have a life back. First with his family and then second when Castiel was made powerless in his body. He has a life here.”

“He looks at you two like you’re his…I don’t know…his salvation.”

“No, he --”

“He does. You have to admit that that’s kind of weird.”

He’d been thinking about the things Dean had said and his own suspicions off and on the past months. Truthfully, he thought Dean was right. Jimmy was really Castiel. Sam had decided to forgive Castiel a few months earlier and while it had been hard at first, he’d managed to reach a level of forgiveness where he didn’t have to say it a hundred times in a row to make it stick for the day.

If Jimmy was Castiel, then he was going to have to face both Sam and Dean and Sam knew that facing Dean would be terrifying for him, even worse than facing Sam. If he was Castiel, he was human, with human limitations and consequences. He already knew Jimmy’s fingerprints hadn’t changed, but it might be prudent to have a doctor’s report that proved he was human for Dean to look at.

It was prudent for another reason for he himself to have a checkup and not because he wanted to have a physical relationship with Morgan. Well, not only for that reason. “I want you to give me a physical.”

For a second, he thought she’d reply with a flirtatious answer, but then her grin faded and a more serious mien took root. “Sam, I’m sure you’re perfectly healthy physically. Probably more so than ninety-nine percent of the people here.”

“Then an exam to make sure won’t hurt.”

“Never hurts to know where you stand,” she agreed with a nod.

“Tomorrow morning?”

“You in a hurry?”

“Let’s just say I want a clean bill of health from the new doctor.”

Interest sparked in her eyes. “Fair enough.”

He glanced down the path. Mindy and Jimmy were almost around the bend. “Give Jimmy one, too.”

“If he asks.”

“He’s asking.”

“Sam --”

“I want you to do every test you can on him and tell me he’s human. Including blood.”

Her eyes seemed to darken, hand gripping his arm and voice lowering. “Wait. You think he’s not human.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not exactly. I think I need to be ready to prove he is.” At least that he was now. Human and without one bit of angelic ability inside him.

“Prove to who?”

“I can’t tell you yet. Can you trust me?”

She released his arm and stepped back. With a sigh, she nodded. “Okay. Jo said I can trust you so I will.” Raising a finger, she pointed it at him. “But you’re going to tell me what this is about later.”

“I think you’ll know when it happens, but if you don’t I’ll tell you.”

“Beats not knowing I guess.”

They parted ways at her cabin a hour later with a series of kisses that made him want to follow her inside. Sam restrained himself. He hoped to take care of his most pressing problem, his mind, before diving in to a real relationship with her.

Back at the cabin, he found Jo and Dean already in their room and the door closed. He could hear them laughing about something and smiled. It was good to hear Dean laugh. He hadn’t laughed like that in forever, not since Jo had been with them the last time.

In the morning, he ate breakfast with Jimmy and talked up having a physical, giving him little chance to refuse. Jimmy watched each thing Morgan did, asking questions that could have driven a less patient woman crazy. She didn’t snap at him once, answering each question with increasingly detailed answers once she realized he was sincerely interested.

With a sigh, Sam sank into a chair.

If he’d really been Jimmy, he wouldn’t have needed to ask questions, because few men got to be that age without at least one doctor visit in their lives.

Jimmy was Castiel and Dean was right.

Sam was a little sad to realize his constant companion had been the same being who’d put him in the position he was in, not to mention that Castiel had felt the need to continue the charade with him. He’d forgiven him, however, and Castiel had been trying to help him these past months. Sam knew that’s what all the activities had been for. Castiel had been trying to keep his mind active and his body moving, an attempt to counteract the drug in his system. He’d become a real friend and Sam decided he’d make sure Castiel got a chance to explain himself before they decided what needed to be done about him.

Chapter 34

After his impromptu appointment with Morgan, Castiel spent the day in the woods, ostensibly reinforcing the fence and repainting areas of it. His mind was elsewhere.

His physical that morning had been interesting and he’d mentally compared his results for blood pressure and temperature with Jimmy’s past results. Both were different. His blood pressure was average, while Jimmy’s had been lower. The same with his temperature. He ran a tiny bit hotter than Jimmy had, yet both his results were within human range. There appeared to be no physical signs of either the angel or the other creature he’d once been.

Castiel wondered if that was a good thing or a bad one. It certainly pointed to a definite human end for himself.

As for that human end….

Ellen had cautioned him against waiting much longer to admit the truth and he agreed. He just had to figure out how to tell it when he knew Dean already knew. He needed to approach it in a way that wouldn’t get Dean even angrier than he must already be. Her idea to go to Jo and Sam, then to Dean was a good one. If he could get Jo and Sam to forgive him, it’d go a long way towards getting Dean to consider forgiving him.

His thoughts moved in circles over everything from his current situation regarding redemption, to the past, to his relationship with Mindy. He considered everything. As the hours passed, he found himself seeing mild parallels between he and Mindy and Dean’s past relationship with Lisa. They weren’t strong parallels, but they were there to a slight extent.

Dean was known by monsters. Castiel was too.

The demons had used Lisa and Ben against Dean. The angels wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to Castiel if they became aware of his powerless state and of Mindy’s growing importance to him. If Crowley was still out there, he’d do it too, and laugh because he’d been the one to do that to Dean. Doing the same thing to Castiel would amuse him. Mindy was important. She was a symbol of Castiel’s acceptance of his state of humanity.

His thoughts turned darker. He imagined the angels taking her from him, him trying to rescue her, and her injured, dying slowly because of him and those angelic views on justice. Then, he imagined asking for her memories of him to be taken away and her body healed. Who he’d ask he didn’t know. The resulting ache in his chest sent him to his knees. Castiel never wanted that to happen, not any of that.

He covered his mouth with his hands and sobbed because he could now extrapolate how Dean had felt at the action.

It was pure heartache and to a man as broken down as Dean had been, it had been gutting. Cas could see it, understand it in a way he hadn’t before. He could also understand that he’d compounded things by raising Jo and arrogantly ordering her to step into that position while Dean was still grieving the loss of Lisa as a partner.

The arrogance of his own actions shamed him anew.

It would have been safer to take the memories from Dean as well. Lisa and Ben could still be used against Dean if any creature thought to do so and they’d never understand why. The effectiveness would be lessened due to Jo and Beth, but it could happen. He and Dean had both been stupid about it. Those memories should have been taken from Dean as well. It should have been a clean slate for all three of them.

He let the emotions roll over him and the tears fall, wallowing in the experience so as to completely understand it. Being human was something of an emotional and physical minefield at times, but he was learning.

It was much later when he was able to get himself back under control. Upon hearing footsteps approaching, he tried to look like he’d been working. It was Jody. She looked as lost in her own thoughts as he’d been a moment before and he wondered if he should apologize to her. Ellen had told him to take responsibility only for what was directly his fault, yet he did feel responsible for Jody losing her job. His indecision to talk with her on his deception and, ultimately, her losing her job lasted until they were halfway back, Her response to what he had to say somewhat of a let-down and a relief at the same time.

Apparently, he still wasn’t much of a liar and that, he knew, was a good thing in the end.

~~~~~~~~~~

There were times when Jody just had to get away. Today was one of them. She was torn between spending time with Ellen, Jo, and Morgan and not spending it with them. It was a surprise to her that interacting with a baby could still get to her. She was glad Dean’s daughter was healthy and fine, yet the proximity had brought back feelings she’d thought she’d exorcised. She’d needed to get away.

Jo had asked her if she was okay and had given Beth to Morgan, who’d gone to put Beth down for a nap. Ellen had been elsewhere at the time, Jody wasn’t sure where. Jo had seemed like a good person to talk to right then, but Jody didn’t want to burden Jo with it. Maybe she’d sit down with Ellen later and talk with her.

She pretended she was patrolling the fence line, taking her time walking around the edge of the camp. As she walked, she smelled paint and it wasn’t long before a familiar figure came into view. Jimmy.

He’d been her scavenging and hunting partner since he, Sam, and Dean had arrived at Bobby’s and she thought he was every bit as screwed up as the rest of them. The guy had major issues in several areas including personal safety. She’d been trying to work with him on those issues over the months. Usually, when she thought they’d made progress something happened that made it apparent they hadn’t.

“Hey, Jimmy.” Jody stopped walking. It looked like she wasn’t the only one who’d needed to get away. Jimmy was sitting on the ground, an open can of the paint Dean had called the ‘Bobby mix’ beside him. He was doing a sloppy job of painting and she ignored the obvious signs of tears so as not to embarrass him.

He sniffled and glanced at her. “Jody. Hi.”

She watched him start to clean up. “You don’t have to stop on my account.”

“I’m done.” He stood. He had paint splatter all over his jeans, sweatshirt, shoes, and hands.

“Need help carrying?”

“I can carry it all myself.”

“Sure you can, but why if you don’t have to? Hand me something.” She held out a hand.

“You’re patrolling,” he protested.

“I can come back. Besides, this is what friends are for.”

“We’re friends?”

“Thought we were. Otherwise my maudlin slobbering into those beers we drank together a couple weeks ago is sort of embarrassing.” The comment caused a small smile to tug at his lips. Jody snapped her fingers. “Give me the can.” Once she had it in hand, she shook her head. “You know you take independence further than you have to? Take help sometimes. Remember? We just had this conversation about a month ago. You’re not alone here. Let people help you.”

His nod was slow, gaze sheepish. “Old habits.”

“Break them, okay?”

“I’m trying. It’s difficult to move on from the past.”

“Tell me about it. I just had a bad moment back at Dean and Jo’s.”

“You don’t have bad moments. You keep the rest of us from having them.”

She smiled at him. “Sweet, but not true.”

“Seems true. What happened?”

“You know I had a kid once, right?” At his nod, she continued. “He died and after some supernatural things happened, I went through losing him again and also losing my husband. I held Beth for about thirty seconds earlier today and it all came back to me like it was yesterday. Holding her, smelling that baby smell…. It took me right back there. It was instantaneous.”

They walked in silence for awhile and halfway back, he stopped her. He bit his lip, looked around them, and blurted out, “I’m not Jimmy.”

“Course you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I used my last favor months ago to run your prints. Jimmy Novak all the way.”

His mouth opened, closed, opened again. “You ran my prints.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Watch a few police shows. Sometimes they really do get things right.”

“Why then?”

“I was asked to. I tried to argue for using my last favor on something big and he claimed this was big.”

“Dean?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Sam. He said he had to know if the prints of the vessel had changed.”

“He said that?”

“He did, so physically, whoever you are, you are Jimmy Novak.”

“I’m not Jimmy, Jody.” Guilt swam in his eyes. “Jimmy was the vessel. I mean, this body is his, but --”

She was certainly getting tired of men feeling guilty. Dean did, Sam did, Jimmy, or whoever he was, did. The only one who didn’t was Bobby and he was dead, but if he’d been alive, Jody would bet he’d feel guilty too. It was like a requirement around here. All men must feel guilty all the time. “Look, I don’t care if you call yourself Jimmy, Castiel, or hey you. You’ve been non-threatening since the day we all formed a team. I could care less who you were if you keep being who you are. You become a threat, I take you out. Once a cop, always one.”

“Like Ellen. Once a hunter, always one. She pretty much said the same thing.”

She smiled. “The more I know about Ellen, the more I like her. Really, Jimmy…Castiel…. I don’t see much difference anymore between what I used to do and what Dean and Sam do. It’s protecting people. I protect people and you wouldn’t have lasted a day in our team if I’d thought you were a threat. I would have told them you were a danger.”

His shoulders slumped. “You knew all along. Does everyone?”

“Bobby and I had a long talk before the Church of Castiel came for us and I had the advantage of not having ever been emotionally tied to you in some way. Plus, once you’re a cop awhile, you can sort of read people.”

“You and Ellen.” He leaned his head back, staring at the branches above their heads. “That’s why you always suggested that you and I make a team. You were protecting Sam and Dean.”

“I was studying you, assessing you as a potential threat. If you were going to hurt us all, you would have months ago.”

“You didn’t tell them. You never said anything.”

“Not my place to. It’s your secret and your baggage.”

“My responsibility.”

“All the way.” She began walking again and he caught up quickly.

They parted ways at the shed where they kept the painting supplies. Jody returned to the woods. She wasn’t ready to go back to the camp just yet.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean and Jo were dancing around each other all over again. They flirted, teased, and got to know each other as they now were. Dean found himself intrigued by the woman their months apart had shaped. Her confidence had increased, as had her tendency for quiet contemplation. She was very much like her mother and Dean appreciated that likeness.

He anticipated a return to the physical intimacy he and Jo had once shared, counting down the days. He wondered if she’d be surprised to find that he’d jotted down ‘the date’ to remember it and that he was calling it ‘S-day’. On that day, he planned to let someone else watch Beth and spend the entire day in bed with Jo.

Calm descended on the camp, though he suspected more trouble would be coming. Had to be. There always was. This particular trouble would likely go by the name Castiel. He waited, taking Jo’s advice to let Castiel open up even though he wanted it all out in the open immediately. Dean watched him, noticed Castiel was avoiding him, and let it slide. It had to be this way. If Castiel wanted forgiveness, then he’d make that move. It couldn’t be Dean confronting him, but rather Castiel coming to Dean to try to make things right.

Two days past, then four, and finally a full week.

Sam was changing, spending more time in meditation and prayer. He’d talk about memories and doors, voices and illusions, and appeared to be keeping some sort of journal. Sam always stopped just short of telling Dean what the heck he was referring to and maintained he’d do it when he figured things out. What did Sam have to figure out?

Most of all, Dean spent those days enjoying being a father, that thing he’d thought he couldn’t do. Time would tell if he’d be any better than his dad at it or any better than any other hunter with kids. He recognized that having this camp changed things. It made it easier for him to be a father and to slide into that role. It also made it easier for him to commit to Jo in the way she deserved and the way he knew she wanted. It made it easier to be the man he wanted to be.

And yet, Dean had a sense of dread rising slowly inside him. His instincts were screaming that something big was coming and Dean didn’t know where to begin to stop it or even if he could. He suspected that whatever it was could rip everything apart and that there was no way to stop it now. It was an out of control train heading straight for this life he was building here in the camp.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo shifted Beth in her arms and slowly pushed the swing to get it moving. Castiel approached and stopped at the bottom of the steps.

“May I speak with you, Jo?” His voice was hesitant and respectful.

“Knock yourself out.”

Castiel looked at the empty spot on the swing beside her. “Um…I’ll go in and get a chair first.”

She stopped the swing. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“No, but I’m told you have one helluva punch.”

“You think I’ll punch you while holding my daughter?” She couldn’t help but smile at that. Did he really think of her like that?

“Wouldn’t you? If you thought you needed to?”

Jo thought about it a moment, then nodded. “I guess you’re right. She just fell asleep though. I think it’s safe for you to join me, Castiel.”

He visibly flinched at the name. “How long have you know?”

“I never didn’t. Come sit.”

Gingerly, he sat beside her, as far from her as possible.

“Any closer to that end and you’ll have an imprint of the arm and the chains holding it up. Relax already.”

He relaxed a fraction. “How did you know I was me?”

She gave him an honest answer. “You’re a crawling sensation between my shoulder blades and have been since that day you raised me.”

“Explains a few things.” He didn’t look at her.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Castiel drew in two deep breaths, looking like he was about to throw-up. “I never meant you harm.”

“You had a funny way of showing it. Threats don’t exactly support that premise.”

“Please. Hear me out.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll listen.”

“You will?”

She chuckled at the surprise on his face. “Why are you so surprised at that?”

“I guess I thought you wanted my head on a stick.”

“That’s a reasonable assumption I suppose. You were a pretender god piece of monster crap who terrorized and threatened me, tried to frighten me into loosening my morals, and turned everything I knew upside down.”

“Were?”

She pushed the swing to move it and it didn’t move. “But you also saved me from being dragged to Crowley, then carried me to where you thought I should be to give birth when I couldn’t walk it. You helped put this camp together, spent months trying to keep Sam moving….” She tapped his leg with a foot. “Lean back, rock, and talk, or she’s gonna wake up.”

He followed her orders. “I’m sorry Jo, for being a,” his brows raised, “pretender god piece of monster crap who did all of that to you. When I raised you, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I honestly didn’t. I was selfish and didn’t think through the consequences of that action. I apologize and, even if you don’t believe me, it is heartfelt.”

There was a prolonged silence between them. He watched her like he really thought she was going to lean over and hit him. Jo touched Beth’s cheek, smiled a little at her sleeping child. “You’ve changed.”

He looked away. “No, Jo, I haven’t. And that’s the problem. I’m still all those things I was only now I’m human as well and it’s…harder. I’m still selfish at my core and I don’t know how to redeem myself when I can’t let go of that.”

Now this was something she could relate to. Castiel was human, scared, and desperate. It was about time. “I forgive you, Castiel.”

His head turned back, gaze disbelieving. “You what?”

“I said I forgive you.”

“For all of it? The terrorizing, the humiliation --”

“Yes.” She sighed, trying to decide how to explain it. “If I held on to all of the things people have done to hurt me in the past, I’d never move forward. I don’t want to waste my energy being mad at you and plotting revenge of some kind. I can’t. I have a daughter to raise and she’s the one who deserves my attention. I have a tentatively committed relationship I need to focus on. That deserves my attention, too. I can’t change that past or what you did and neither can you. You’ve admitted what you did and expressed regret. We’re even. But I’ll tell you one thing. I won’t give you a second chance. You mess this up and that’s it.”

“Thank you, Jo.”

“Don’t thank me. You’ve still got to face Sam and Dean and that’s going to be the hard sell, especially with Dean. It’s gonna get a lot worse before it starts getting better for you.” She adjusted the blanket around Beth, shifting her to the other arm. “You are going to talk to Dean, right?”

“I plan to. It’s difficult to decide how to approach him.”

“Why did you pretend in the first place?”

“Wouldn’t you have?” He laced his fingers together in his lap. “He would have killed me right then. I was cowardly, I guess. Dean began to make a big deal about making it up to Jimmy because he’d forgotten he was there.”

“Is he still there?”

“No.” He shook his head. “He moved on when I was punished. I was alone in this body for the first time, frightened, and I made a decision to survive. Perhaps it wasn’t the best one, but it’s the one I made.”

“Dean told me you’re locked out of the infirmary. Why?”

“He’s not the only one who gets depressed. I overdo it, take too much. Mindy’s been keeping an eye on me recently. I haven’t felt as bad the past week or two.” He looked at her. “Since your group arrived. I think it’s time for it all to come out, Jo. I’m tired of lying about it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m tired of running away from it all. I need to face it and take whatever consequences are mine to bear. If that means death, then so be it. I’ll try to face it as bravely as I can.”

“So…why did you let them think you were still in there? Why not go Jimmy all the way?”

“I can’t be Jimmy all the time. I’m not an actor. I was only able to lie well once I had corrupted souls inside me. I think they had an influencing effect upon me. It was better to be Jimmy most of the time and have myself to fall back on sometimes.”

He kept clasping and unclasping his hands in a nervous gesture and Jo reached over, placing her hand on his to stop the movement. “I’m not grilling you, Castiel. I’m just trying to understand, okay?”

“I know. I’m rather relieved you didn’t punch me.”

She pulled her hand back.

Now he turned in the seat, putting an arm on the back of the swing, his expression earnest. “I tried to heal Sam. I did, Jo. I swear it. Every time I tried, I made it worse somehow and I still don’t understand how. I don’t understand why I couldn’t heal him when I’d had the power to knit you and Ellen back together. You’re both obviously well and healthy. I had the power and it makes no sense that I couldn’t fix him.”

He appeared to be eager to talk about it to someone and she let him, not talking, but rather thinking about what he was saying and what Sam and Dean had said both then and now.

“I’d touch his forehead, search out the broken section, and then…it’d move. It resisted, almost like a live thing inside his head. It shouldn’t have done that. The human mind isn’t like that and I don’t understand.”

“Maybe it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t fix him,” she replied slowly.

“What do you mean?”

Beth began to wake up and whimper and Jo raised her up against her shoulder, patting her back gently. “How sure are we all that Lucifer is just a hallucination? Are we one-hundred percent sure he didn’t piggyback Sam’s soul out of the cage when Death retrieved it?”

Castiel stilled, brow furrowing. “I’d think Death would’ve known if that were the case.”

“Sure, but would he tell anyone? I mean, isn’t the apocalypse and the end of the world the end game for all those higher beings? Even Death?”

He gave a half shrug. “Death doesn’t particularly care about us. His soft spot for Dean is an anomaly.”

“Sam was strong enough, with Dean’s help, to win the battle of wills against Lucifer. In order to take him again, Lucifer would have to really trick Sam into it. Isn’t making us all think Sam is nuts and hallucinates him right up Lucifer’s alley? If he can convince Sam to reintegrate him, then he wins. He takes control. You were an angel, Castiel. Is it likely he’d do that? I mean, there was a day once where I really thought it was me, Sam, and an unknown presence sitting at the table. Not you, but another one. He’d been talking to thin air, to Lucifer.”

“Sam already reintegrated himself as you put it. He did that after I pushed down the wall. He…. The wall….” His eyes glazed over a little and Jo could tell his thoughts had turned inward. Finally, he blinked. “Jo, I have to go.” He got up, then sat back down, one hand reaching out. He touched Beth’s cheek with a finger. “She really is a beautiful child and I’m very glad things worked out between you and Dean despite my meddling.” Castiel was gone before she could say anything more, running in the direction of the cabin.

Chapter 35

Sam was standing in a circular room. It was familiar. Also familiar was the rubble on the floor. It was his wall, his mind, his memories.

“Very good,” came Chuck’s voice from behind him.

“I’m dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here? The other times I dreamed this I was by myself.” He stared at Chuck. “Are you God?”

Chuck slid his hands into his pants pockets. “Do you want me to be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Is whether or not I’m God the thing that needs to be looked at right now?”

He opened his mouth to reply and shook his head. “I guess not. Why are you here,” he repeated.

“To impress upon you that Death had a real reason for telling you not to scratch at that wall. Unfortunately, he has no patience to explain himself when he ought to.” He stepped to one open door. “Follow me, Sam.”

All the doors along the hall were open this time except that one at the end that was always closed.

“The portion Death walled up was small really. A year or so. You see this as a circular room leading to hallways leading to doors and so on, but it’s more complicated than that. You chose this representation because you can understand it.”

Was that why his mind chose Chuck as the representation of this guide? Or chose him as the helpful hallucination? Because he was uncomplicated? He was, well, he was Chuck. Chuck was harmless and the real Chuck had been helpful in the past.

“The reality is different, even more of a maze and not as neatly put together as this little section.”

“It’s tidy.” He looked into the first door. Gwen and Christian were talking. Gwen was upset and off to one side, Samuel appeared bored, poking a finger at a computer keyboard.

“Your first few weeks with the Campbell family.” Chuck joined him, looking in.

“I remember. Christian was making fun of Gwen for a tactical maneuver she’d proposed. I supported her on it because it was logical, except, when we implemented it, people died. They got in the way.” He shook his head, correcting himself. “No, they got in my way. It upset Gwen. She was careful in her planning, excited to prove herself at last to Samuel, and I managed to sabotage it.”

“She proved herself later.”

“When she blindly followed him to her death.”

“She knew the job was dangerous. Gwen knew the risks. Hunting was her life. She made her choices, however tragic they may seem to you.”

“You mean free will.”

“All humans have it.” Chuck swept an arm out, inviting him to move further down the hallway. “The human mind is resilient. Many of these memories would have leaked out from behind the wall over the months with no problems except perhaps a bit of shame for how you’d behaved. The problem we need to address is down here.”

He knew where they were going and he didn’t want to go there.

Wet dark trails glistened down the door. He saw that it was open about an inch, rubble blocking it from moving further. There were still bricks stacked to one side, though they looked dusty.

“Notice the rest of the doors open inward towards the memories contained in the rooms. This one doesn’t. See the lock.”

He hadn’t seen the lock before, but there it was, the chain in place.

“Death put the wall up, but you did this Sam. You created it this way. It’s your mind and you did this because you knew. You understood even if you were merely a body walking around at the time. You prepared for what could happen if you got your soul back. Come on, Sam. What do you know and what would Death know? You’ve been thinking about it, preparing yourself to act, readying yourself for action. It’s time. You can’t remain ignorant anymore. Face your fears, see everything you haven’t been seeing and what you’ve been afraid to see.”

The truth was there and he let it wash over him and roll him under until he came out the other side of that wave. He understood the messages he’d been receiving from Chuck and the one Darla had given him from his mother. He also understood why Mary was frightened for him. “I’m still connected to Lucifer. My soul. He can escape through me.”

“Where does the door go? Think. Put the rest of the pieces together. Connection, Death, door. You need to wake up, Sam. Now is the time, before it really is too late.”

He stumbled from the hallway, pieces sliding into place almost effortlessly.

Sam woke. He laid still for awhile, thinking about it all and when he had what he thought was a complete picture, he made his way out into the main room. Dean was standing at the kitchenette counter making notes on a piece of paper. “Dean, do you have a minute?” This was going to be difficult to discuss. Dean wasn’t going to want to talk about it or consider what Sam had to tell him.

“Yeah, sure. I’m all ears.” He set the paper aside.

When they were settled in chairs Sam said, “I need you to listen.”

“Lay it on me.”

“No, Dean, I mean you need to listen even though you’re not going to want to consider what I have to say.”

His gaze turned wary. “What’s this about?”

Sam said it as plainly as he could. “I think I’m still connected to Lucifer and the cage.”

Dean’s features tightened and Sam knew he had about five seconds before an outburst came. He even counted them. “No. No. You’re not connected. It’s this medicine screwing with you.”

“What if it’s true? If the Lucifer I was seeing was really --”

“No. Your mind is all scrambled. You can’t….” He got up and began to pace. “The apocalypse is over and done with and those two archangel dicks can mix it up for eternity. Castiel rescued your body and Death got your soul out. No. He’s not real, not anymore. He’s not there, Sam. It’s your mind. We did Darla’s method and nothing was left standing.”

Fear dripped from every word and Sam understood. He did. If Sam was still connected to the cage, it meant that there was a possibility Dean could lose him all over again. Dean wasn’t ready to fight that battle all over again. He might never be ready. “Why do you think it’s only my mind,” he persisted. “Why isn’t it possible --”

“Because Castiel pushed down the wall and scrambled those eggs. Why do you think it’s not? Look, sometimes….” He stopped pacing, hands held out. “Sometimes, it’s not a supernatural thing. Sometimes, Sammy, we, you and I, we really are just that screwed up.” Dean was hoping and praying that that was the case. Sam could see it as clear as day. “We’re screwed in the head and that’s not going to change.”

He licked his lips, suppressing a sigh. “Okay.”

“No more of this Lucifer could get out crap.”

“Dean --”

“No!”

Sam gave a slow nod. He didn’t want to do anything without Dean standing by and ready, but he would if he had to.

Dean turned his back.

Without replying, Sam stepped towards his room. He’d nearly closed his door all the way when he heard Dean’s voice. Thinking he was saying something more on the subject, he opened the door back up, but that wasn’t the case.

“Please, no. Not Lucifer again. Not…. I thought we got this cleared up. I thought when nothing was left standing that it was just in his head. But….” Dean’s words were soft, so much so that Sam realized he didn’t want Sam to hear. “God, no. Please. I can eventually handle the powers that are coming back, but not this. Keep the devil in his cage. Don’t let this happen. I can’t…”

Dean was praying, his head bowed and Sam saw Chuck standing at his side. He was half facing Dean, a hand resting on his back while he listened. Again, Sam wondered if he was seeing God; if his broken mind was allowing him to see what usually remained hidden. Or rather if God was allowing him to see in order to give him the hope they’d been missing for a very long time.

“I can’t lose Sam again. Not to Lucifer.”

Sam heard a strangled sob.

“I know, Dean,” Chuck replied, though it didn’t appear that Dean heard him. “I understand the pain you’re going through. I’m here. I’ve always been here. You think I’ve abandoned the world, abandoned you, but that’s far from the truth. I do listen, Dean. I do hear.”

Chuck’s head turned and he nodded once at Sam.

Sam eased the door shut and closed it without a sound. A few minutes later, the outer door slammed as Dean left. He picked up his pill bottle and studied it.

There was a knock on the outer door and he opened it, inviting his guest inside to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was too much.

The emotions that welled up when Sam mentioned Lucifer threatened to choke Dean. He’d thought they were done with Lucifer and the apocalypse, that it was all over for good, yet if this was true, it meant that they’d only delayed it. It couldn’t be true, so of course, it most likely was. That was the way their luck always ran.

This was the worst case scenario he’d considered off and on for a year now. It fit too well. The natural disasters, the current state of the world. It all fit with an apocalypse that was going to get right back on track and be unstoppable. The keys were gone, Michael in the cage.

No.

Panic began to whirl in his mind and he left the cabin, taking the path outside the circle of the main camp instead of the direct one. He didn’t want to chance running into anyone in his state. He was liable to snap at people.

Connected. How could Sam still be connected? The cage was closed, with the two archangels inside it. Didn’t the boundaries of the cage cut whatever bond Sam had had with Lucifer? Besides, wouldn’t Death have said something?

But he had, a tiny voice inside him piped up. He’d warned that Sam wasn’t to scratch the wall. He’d made it clear that something bad would happen. Dean had thought he’d been referring to the release of those hell memories, bad all by themselves, but what if Death had been referring to the bond between Sam and Lucifer? What if that was what he’d really walled up?

He shoved his hands into his front jeans pockets, staring down at the path as he walked. His thoughts turned in furious circles and he decided to talk to Sam in the morning, after having slept on it. If he was right and what Dean prayed wouldn’t happen was happening, then they’d figure out what to do together. They’d defeat Lucifer again, somehow, like they had the last time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo was right and yet she was wrong at the same time. It wasn’t that Lucifer had piggybacked at all.

As Jo spoke, it all came together for Castiel. The connection between a soul and an angel, or an archangel. It enabled angels to easily find their vessels and…talk to them. There was a connection because Sam had accepted Lucifer and him being back in the cage didn’t negate that bond. The bond was with the soul, not the body, which was why angels needed a live soul while demons didn’t.

He felt cold, understanding suddenly what he’d done when he’d knocked down the wall.

Death would have known about that and known that Lucifer could use Sam as a loophole. He’d brought Sam out knowing he also brought out a backdoor into the cage. He’d walled up that connection behind the wall along with Sam’s hell experiences and Castiel thought he may have done it out of some sliver of affection for Dean. Whatever kind of affection Death himself could have. It was obvious he liked Dean and found him amusing.

Castiel had made it possible for Lucifer to reach Sam and influence him. He was mortified that he hadn’t understood immediately. He should have grasped what had happened or would happen before he’d even pushed the wall down and he was fully responsible for Sam’s current state.

He headed to the cabin.

Sam answered the door. His gaze was thoughtful. “Castiel.”

“Yes.” He found that he wasn’t as surprised as he should have been that Sam knew him for himself. He was more relieved than anything. Maybe Sam, like everyone else, had known along. Perhaps Dean had really known all along as well and the only one Castiel had been fooling was himself.

The door was opened wide. “I think we need to talk.”

“We do.”

He stepped inside the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~

After considering the questions Sam had asked at his appointment, Morgan spent a few days doing research. When she was finished, she spent a relaxing early evening eating dinner with Dean and Jo. Dean cradled Beth to his chest with one arm and ate with his free hand. Jo kept leaning over to adjust the blanket or touch one small hand. Morgan was glad they were enjoying being parents.

As they ate, Dean interviewed her. It was the only word for the sort of questions he asked and the information he wanted. Schooling, experience. It was amusing, especially since she’d already started working in the camp. She’d taken care of scrapes, bumps, burns, Ellen’s leg, delivered Beth, and given several physicals. Not to mention she’d been cast occasionally in the role of therapist to a few people who’d wandered into the infirmary needing to talk to someone.

When Dean wound down, she asked, “Where’s Sam tonight?”

Dean handed Beth to Jo and leaned back in his chair. “In our cabin.” He sounded distracted. “I need to go get a piece of pie before it’s gone.”

He got his pie and Morgan decided she rather liked Dean when he wasn’t in leader mode. When he relaxed and teased Jo or just held his daughter in silence, she could see the similarities between him and Sam. She could see the man Jo was in love with. Morgan remained with them awhile longer, finally leaving them swinging in the swing on the porch. She stopped at the infirmary, picked up the notes she’d been making, and went to see Sam.

It was Jimmy who opened the door, he and Sam both seeming surprised to see her. They exchanged a long glance before Jimmy stepped back and let her in. They both looked different, focused and purpose driven. Whatever they’d been discussing had been intense. She could feel the tension in the air.

“You have a minute,” she asked, approaching Sam.

He closed the notebook he had open. She’d seen a brief glimpse of a sketch of what looked like a door before it was closed. “Sure.”

“I did some research after the other day.” She laid several pages down in front of him.

Sam glanced at them. “And?”

“I’m a GP, so I’m not an expert in your medication or what’s available, but I think you do still have several options. A few aren’t viable given your history of seizures. There are some, though, that could work well for you. This current medication is working, yet it’s a hindrance to your quality of life. Months have proven that. I’d like to try to get an outside opinion. The internet is up right now and I do have a few colleagues I can try to contact if you like.”

“Maybe you should wait a couple weeks,” Jimmy suggested.

It was the same thing Sam had said that day and Morgan wondered if she was missing something. “Why? What’s in two weeks?”

“Nothing,” Sam said far too quickly, shuffling the pages and stacking them together. “I just need to think about it first.” He held the pages out.

She took them. “The internet service isn’t stable, Sam. I really should go ahead and send a message out while we can. It could be awhile to hear back and then longer to actually find new pills for you. May be two weeks or longer anyway. I can --”

“No. Thank you. I want to think about it.”

He was hiding something, but damned if she knew what it was. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve lasted these months, I can go awhile longer. I’ll decide. I promise.”

“I honestly think we should take advantage of the internet capability right now.”

“I understand, Morgan. I need to weigh it all and decide if doing this is going to change things for the better in the end. I have to think of the risks.”

This? Somehow, she didn’t think he was referring to switching medications. “We won’t know how a new medication will affect you until you try it. Of course we can speculate based on your reaction to past medications, but….” She sighed. “I’m not going to convince you, am I?”

“No.”

“You’re as hard-headed and stubborn as Jo says your brother is once you’ve made up your mind, aren’t you?”

His lips quirked the slightest bit in a smile. “Pretty much.”

Jimmy pulled out a chair and sat. “I believe they both prefer the phrase ‘strong willed’ to describe it and they both have ‘it’ in spades. Trust me on that.”

“Well then, let me know as soon as you decide what to do.”

“You’ll know.” Sam said it with a certainty that meant he’d already done all the weighing and thinking he was going to. He had some sort of action in mind and Morgan had the feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

“Don’t do anything stupid or reckless or would mess with your health,” she warned.

“I’ll make an informed decision,” he assured her. “Believe me, Morgan, I won’t act until I’m sure it’s the right thing.”

Jimmy crossed his arms. “Stubbornness.”

“Strong will,” Morgan corrected. “Okay. I’ll leave you to your thinking then.” Whirling, she left. She was out of the cabin and down the steps when Sam caught her arm and tugged her to stop.

“Morgan, wait. Don’t be mad. It’s a big step and I want to make sure it’s right.”

She let him pull her closer. “I’m not mad, Sam, but I get the feeling you’re going to do something that’s dangerous and I can’t approve of that.”

“Sometimes in order to get better, you have to get worse.”

“You mean withdrawal symptoms?”

“I mean facing your demon head on.”

He was trying to tell her something and it was frustrating to realize that she didn’t know him well enough to decode his words. “Be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks here.”

“I’ll be careful and only take the necessary ones.” His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Look, I plan to get better so I can get to know you. I want to have something with you that’s deeper than physical and I have to face the mental and spiritual before that can happen.” Leaning down, he gave her a kiss that curled her toes before he released her and returned to the cabin.

She stood still for a moment, trying to decide if she should go back up there, bang on the door and demand answers, or let it go, trusting him to tell her later. He kept telling her he’d tell her later, even promising. As much as she wanted answers now, she should trust him to do that. However, she made a promise to herself to that if she noticed any reckless behavior, she’d take it to Dean immediately.

“Damn it,” Morgan whispered and chose the latter option. She’d wait.

Chapter 36

Sam was already awake when Jo got up to take a shower. Beth was, by some miracle, still sleeping, as was Dean. Sam was sitting in one chair, in track pants and a t-shirt, staring into space.

“Morning, Sam,” Jo called softly as she stepped into the bathroom. If he responded, she didn’t hear him. She showered, dressed, managed not to wake either Dean or Beth, and was getting ready to make coffee when she realized Sam hadn’t moved at all. “Sam?” Setting the coffeepot down, she turned off the faucet and regarded him a long moment. Her heart beat a fraction faster and she crossed to him. He was so still that she was half afraid he was dead. Moving closer, she leaned over him. His blink startled her and she gasped. “Sam?”

He didn’t move, though she could see now that he was breathing very slowly.

Crouching down, Jo waved a hand back and forth. His attention shifted, but not to her. He was seeing something and it certainly wasn’t her. She was reminded of that one particularly eerie moment right after she and Ellen had been raised where Sam had talked to Lucifer at the kitchen table in front of her. The moment she’d mentioned to Castiel. It was that sort of seeing. He was paying attention to things that weren’t visible to anyone else.

Dean emerged from their room, yawning and one hand rubbing across his bare chest as he headed for the bathroom. A couple minutes later, he returned and knelt beside her. “What are we looking at?”

“He’s not responding. Like he doesn’t even see me.” She waved a hand again. “See?”

“He has spells like this,” he said in a gentle tone. “They can last up to four days or so. I told you, remember?”

“I didn’t think it was like this. It’s his medicine?”

Dean nodded. “It’s not happening as much as it used to. He’d have a spell every two or three days, but the last one he had was…oh…right before you got here.”

That didn’t make sense to her. Shouldn’t the effect of his pills be consistent? Didn’t that worry Dean at all, or was he so used to it that he didn’t see how strange it was?

He cleared his throat, transferred his attention to Sam, and reached up, snapping his fingers near Sam’s face. “Sammy, look at me. It’s time to get dressed.” He repeated it several times until, finally, Sam’s eyes focused on him.

Sam licked his lips. “Dean?”

“Hey.” He smiled. “There you are. Hungry? I hear it’s French toast today. Why don’t you get dressed and go with us?”

“Jimmy.”

“Can meet us there.”

“Jo?” Sam looked at her, frowning.

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Wasn’t being rude. Did hear you. Couldn’t…answer.” His words were hard to understand, the worst slurring she’d heard yet.

Once he was in his room, presumably getting dressed, Jo followed Dean into their room. She closed the door. “He’s having hallucinations again.”

Dean tossed his clothes on the bed. “He’s been having them all along. They’re just like ghost images he told me, images that aren’t in focus or clear. They’re barely there.”

“No, I mean he was having one just now. He was seeing and hearing something like he did before he started taking the pills for it.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re imagining it.”

“Dean. Come on. You know I wouldn’t say anything unless I thought it was real.”

Slowly, he sank down to sit on the bedside. His expression when he looked up at her was almost despondent. He was afraid that she was right. “I know. I…. Sam said a few things yesterday along those lines and I thought I’d sleep on it and talk to him this morning, really push myself to accept that,” he swallowed hard, “that his hallucinations are real things and that Lucifer is still a threat.” He shook his head, biting his lip. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Why can’t it stop? Why can’t he be the normal kind of nuts, you know? I don’t….”

Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head to her chest. One hand cradled his head, the other swept back and forth across his bare back. Jo didn’t say anything, she simply held him while he struggled with his emotions. He didn’t return the embrace, yet neither did he pull away from it until his breaths became even once more.

He wiped his eyes with a hand, not looking up at her. “Guess that talk with Sam has to wait. Can’t get anywhere when he’s like this.”

“You’ll have it.”

“We’ll see.”

Beth began to stir and Jo got her ready to go to breakfast while Dean dressed and checked on Sam. Within ten minutes, they were walking along the path to the dining hall. Castiel joined them and Jo stepped back to walk with Castiel while Dean kept Sam moving towards the dining hall. She glanced at Castiel. He was watching Sam with worry in his eyes. She thought there might even be a sliver of fear mixed with it. “Where did you go yesterday? When you ran off, I mean?”

“I went to see Sam.”

“And?”

He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “He forgave me. You know, I think maybe I was fooling myself these months. He knew before I said anything. Greeted me with my name, just like you.”

She didn’t want to suspect him of doing something to Sam or influencing him, but right now, Jo couldn’t help it. Past track record and all. “What did you say to him?”

Her suspicion showed in her voice, for Castiel slowed his pace and finally stopped, turning to face her when she stopped as well. “Jo, do you think I had something to do with his current state?”

“Did you?”

He shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t think I did. Sam and I talked. That’s all. He expressed concerns, made a few observations, and we discussed those. I’m not an angel or monster anymore. I have no powers and Sam has a mind of his own.”

Jo twitched a brow at him. “Castiel.”

He ducked his head. “You know what I mean. He is fully capable of making his own decisions.” His gaze raised to meet hers, his head still bent. “He is.”

“Then what did he say? What concerned him?”

He started walking again and she hurried to keep up. “He mentioned he might stop taking his pills and I suggested he only do that under Morgan’s care.”

The way he said it made her think he was leaving something out there, like what had led up to Sam making that decision. “Why would he do that? Do you think he did stop taking them?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. We discussed angel-human bonds, the cage, the wall, his hallucinations, Lucifer and Michael together down there…. We talked about everything. His dreams, his nightmares. Chuck. He was rather thorough. We went through a couple hypothetical situations and responses to such situations. I had a few thoughts on what we’d discussed, something near a theory. He said he’d consider it and that we’d talk about it again later. Later will have to be when this state passes, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” She wrapped an arm about Beth in her sling and patted her back gently. “A lot of that later stuff going around.”

For the next two days, Jo couldn’t help but feel like tension was rising and something was about to happen. Beth took to crying when she was in the same room as Sam, Castiel avoided Jo and Dean both, and the worry in Morgan’s eyes deepened with every visit she made. Jo hoped that Sam hadn’t done the stupid thing and tried to go off his pills cold turkey. She suspected he had.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s room felt weird. The air felt thick and close and all color seemed to be leeched from the furnishings, leaving the room shades of gray with shadow.

Dean slouched in the chair and tried to ignore the sensation. “I need you to wake up from this, Sam.”

Sam was lying on the bed fully dressed, his head turned on the pillow to stare at the wall.

Jo was right. It was different. It really was like when Sam had been having strong hallucinations except he rarely moved. He sat or laid very still, watching things no one else could see. Occasionally, he would do things for himself, like get up and get a drink of water and he did use the bathroom and shower by himself. However, even when he did those things he was unaware of what was going on around him.

“You wake up and we’ll take care of this. I promise. I don’t know how yet, but I’m with you.”

Sam didn’t respond, like he hadn’t for the past two days. When he spoke, he spoke to his hallucinations, not to the people right there with him. This was a thing Dean had once feared would happen, that Sam would get lost in his hallucinations.

Dean sighed. “I’m going to go have breakfast. Got a meeting with Jody this morning. Supply stuff. Jo’s with Ellen, but, uh, Jimmy should be along soon like usual. Morgan too most likely.” He’d almost banned Castiel from coming to the cabin, then decided the routine might help Sam.

The longer Sam was in this state, the more Morgan worried. She’d sat at Sam’s side the previous night, taking his vitals over and over and asking Dean questions on the frequency and severity of the spells. She’d affirmed what Dean hadn’t wanted to admit, that the effects Sam had to this drug weren’t natural. There should be some consistency and there wasn’t. While she hadn’t outright said that there was likely some supernatural involvement, Dean didn’t need her to. Sam had already told him and Dean hated to admit the cause.

Lucifer was there. It was all him. He’d been tormenting Sam for months and they’d thought it was just his mind. Lucifer had found a way in when he was supposed to be trapped in the cage. That knowledge weighed heavily upon Dean because how could he save Sam when he couldn’t see or hear the enemy himself? At least when Lucifer had had a temporary meat suit there’d been a physical presence for him. This was merely thin air.

This connection was what Death had walled up and Castiel had pushed down. That had to be it and why Death had been so insistent that the wall not be scratched at. Not just hell memories were running around in there, but Lucifer himself, still playing with Sam’s mind. Had Castiel known? Had he even suspected? If he did, then it made his action in shoving down the wall even worse.

His mood turned darker as Lucifer’s words from that vision came back to him.

‘Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here. I win. So, I win.’

Details were altered, but there they were. Lucifer was in Sam’s head and Dean was very afraid those words were prophetic after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam didn’t take his pills the day after he spoke with Castiel. Neither did he take them the next three days. If he had standard withdrawal symptoms, he didn’t feel them.

Christian was the first hallucination to come into focus, strutting around, all arrogance and attitude. How long had he been possessed? Sam thought that it was a good bet Christian had had a rider from the time Samuel had gathered the Campbell clan together. Crowley would have found that to be good insurance and a way to keep a clear eye on Samuel. Samuel was next, then Mark and Gwen. They were hazy at first and he almost felt they were old friends stopping by. His mind relived those memories and he found himself replying the way he had then, saying the words out loud, which he knew worried those around him.

Chuck had been gone since he’d talked to Dean and Sam thought he knew why. It was because Chuck wasn’t a hallucination. He was the visual representation his mind had chosen for God -- the real one. Or perhaps Chuck was how God had chosen to show himself: a small, unassuming, nervous man. How else to explain some of Chuck’s appearances and the sorts of things that happened? How else to explain how comforting and calming his presence was?

He spent the time sitting and waiting in that state that made Jo so nervous and was tearing Dean apart. He did see the worried looks Jo gave him and heard Dean’s pleas that he come out of it, yet while he appreciated the concern, he needed to do this. He’d thought it over and, after a few hypothetical discussions with Castiel, Sam had decided on a plan.

It was time to face his demon, or rather, his evil archangel.

Sam knew it was time. It was like a taste on his tongue or a scent in the air. The time had come to take care of this matter once and for all, one way or another.

Unfortunately, what he thought needed to be done wasn’t anything Dean could help with. Sam had determined that after going through everything Castiel could tell him on angels, the bond between them and their vessels, the cage, and Michael. Dean might even try to talk him out of this, fearing the outcome. One angel was just as bad as the other to Dean.

He tried not to be afraid, but he honestly was, wishing this was something Dean could step in and help with.

The scenes from memory sharpened and played out.

What he was waiting for didn’t take long really, much less time than he’d expected. Two weeks had been a guess, but it only took three days from the time he stopped taking the pills. The hallucinations turned darker, memories twisting. He could imagine some ominous music playing in the background and was mildly surprised when none sounded. It was that sort of detail Big L liked to insert. The scenes turned hellish, eclipsing his view of the real world.

Brace yourself, he told himself. He’s coming.

Lucifer did like to make an entrance when he’d been away for awhile.

Leaning over, Sam rested his head in his hands, preparing himself for the coming fight.

There were footsteps and someone crouching down in front of him.

“Not in the camp,” he told Lucifer, raising his head to look at the visual representation of the a