Title: Blood and Anesthetic

Chapter: 7

~~~~~~~~~

For three weeks, Cas mulled over why Jo was different than the others. He thought about it when they were together and when they weren’t, his ruminations leading him to memories of her mother. Castiel could recall with great clarity the day his relationship with Ellen Harvelle had changed. It was one of the defining moments in his journey into humanity.

His motel room was like all the others they’d been staying at, with out-of-date carpet in an odd shade, a garish flowered bedspread, and wallpaper in shades that surely couldn’t induce thoughts of slumber. A framed painting of cans of SPAM and a fresh pineapple was above the small table, a print of a tropical scene by the bathroom door, and the lamps were carved to look like pineapples. The theme appeared to be Hawaii if Ellen’s reaction was any indication.

She dropped her bag down with a disgusted groan. “Oh, geez, Dean sure can pick them. This is worse than the last one he parked you at. All that’s missing are leis, a couple of scantily clad hula girls, and a pig on a spit in the parking lot.”

He remembered all three were associated with Hawaii.

There was a thump behind him on the wall. Ellen stared at that wall adjoining Dean’s room, where already they could hear an argument brewing between Jo and Dean. It didn’t really matter what it was, there was always something they ended up fighting about.

Castiel remained sitting on the end of the queen sized bed, looking up at her, waiting. Her company made the time bearable, time he found tended to drag as a human. While she was present he felt at least a little bit comfortable with his growing humanity.

After a moment, she sighed and turned her attention to him, her expression softening. “Grab your things, sweetie. I think this fight’s gonna be a doozey and I’d rather not hear it or the make-up later.”

She took him to a nice hotel, a much swankier place than he and Dean ever stayed at, where the colors used to decorate were soothing, the air smelled fresh and clean instead of like stale cigarettes and beer, and the bathtub had controls that made the water churn.

A part of him had realized then that she had seduction on her mind, but for the most part, he’d been blissfully unaware of her intentions, naïve to the last moment and content to follow her lead as he’d been doing. He wasn’t sure what he would have done without her there with him all that time. Sit staring at the wall perhaps? Wander around whatever town they were in, stubbornly denying his need for sleep and food?

While he’d known logically that sex had to feel good -- Jo and Dean hadn’t ever been particularly silent --, Cas hadn’t anticipated just how good it felt. For those moments, lost in her, he could forget their external circumstances. Was it any wonder then, that he’d started thinking about Ellen when she wasn’t there? Or found himself bringing her up in conversation with Dean? Or Bobby? He’d begun to feel things he’d never felt, an affection that was different than what he felt for Dean and Bobby.

When he’d worked up his courage to declare those feelings, Ellen had let him down gently, talking it through with him, not giving him a chance to feel embarrassment. She explained that what he was feeling for her was called ‘puppy love’ or infatuation. If and when he felt the real thing, it’d be different. Real love, Ellen told him, is an act of the will, not an explosion of feelings, though there are feelings involved.

He hadn’t fully understood it then.

That moment with Ellen, or series of moments rather, had led him here to this point.

As he spent more time with Jo, he thought he finally understood what Ellen had been talking about. The feelings he’d developed for Jo, the urge to keep her separate from the others and honor her in some way daily, that wanting to put her wants and needs above his own…. It was love -- if he understood what Ellen had told him correctly.

Cas stretched out on the couch with a sigh, studying the ceiling without really seeing it. The pills he’d taken right after waking were starting to take effect, dulling that edgy sensation he’d woken with and bringing a blissful calm that soothed his nerves.

He had no trouble reconciling the two parts of his life -- Jo and his other women --, nor did he have trouble with his feelings for them all. Cas could honestly say he loved each of them. They were beautiful, talented, and so on, yet among them, Jo was different. She was all of those things and more to him, the love he had for her a deeper one.

Cas smiled at that. It was nice to have something figured out, something that made sense.

Jo came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped about her. Her wet hair was neatly braided. She cast a glance at the doorway, dropped the towel and began to get dressed. “You getting dressed today? We are supposed to be at supplies soon.”

“I’m dressed.” In the sense that he wasn’t naked.

“Boxers do not an outfit make, Cas.”

“I think they make an excellent outfit.”

She drew on her shirt, leaving it un-tucked. “By definition, an outfit is more than one piece of clothing. That’s not an outfit.”

He sat up. “Mmm. I see your point.” Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and tugged her so that she sat on the edge of the couch, embracing her. He pressed kisses to her face, pausing when he reached her mouth.

She touched his face, hand cupping his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?”

“I could turn that question back to you.” Raising his own hands, he caressed her face. “I love you, Jo.”

“You love everyone,” she reminded him with a teasing little smirk. “Especially when you’ve taken those pills you popped a little bit ago.”

She did have another point with that. “But I love you the most every day.”

That smirk faded. “You’re serious.”

“Very.”

He didn’t expect her to start crying.

~~~~~~~~~~

She didn’t want to explain why she was crying. The last time a man had told her he loved her, it was Dean and as he’d always been on top of her when he said it, she’d never been sure he meant it in anything more than ‘I love you because you let me in your pants’. She thought he’d meant it, but it would have been clearer if he’d bothered to say it any other time besides then.

Castiel meant it. Jo could see in his eyes and on his face. It wasn’t the pills talking or his general affection for every female in range.

Jo sniffed, and pulled herself together, nodding, touching his face again, her thumbs brushing his cheeks. “I love you too.”

She meant it. While some would argue that a few weeks wasn’t time to know for sure, her mother would have heartily disputed that. Ellen had fallen for William Harvelle in far less time than that. Jo remembered her mother once telling her that with the right man, a week could be all it took to love him.

He kissed her, a tender brief caress.

There were footsteps on the stairs, then the porch, Melanie’s voice sounding. “Good morning! I come bearing coffee.” She stepped into the cabin, a thermos in one hand and three cups stacked together. “Nathan didn’t make it, so I’m not sure it’s drinkable, but I brought it anyway because caffeine is good.”

“Who made it?” Jo stood and went to her, reaching for the cups, then snagging Melanie’s wrist and touching the pretty charm bracelet she was wearing. “Whoa, this isn’t something you’ve worn before.”

“I’m not sure who made the coffee, I just know it wasn’t Nathan. He’s got a cold.” Melanie relinquished the cups and shrugged. “Someone left it for me at my cabin. It was in a little bag with my name on it.” She loosed her wrist from Jo’s hold. “I have a secret admirer. I think. Either that or someone thought it was mine already.”

Not an entirely unreasonable idea. Melanie could have picked up the bracelet from supplies anytime since she’d been in the camp. When people died, their belongings were added to supplies, so there were some pieces of jewelry there. It was also possible she had an admirer.

Cas joined them, taking a glance at the bracelet. “Are those dogs?”

She smiled, holding her wrist up so he could see it better. “And little kitty cats, too.”

“Huh.”

Jo saw his lips twitch before he turned and reached for his clothes. She made a mental note to ask him what he knew about the gift later and poured three cups of the coffee. Melanie sipped at hers, watching Cas get dressed. Finally, he came to them, drank down his coffee and once they were outside on the path, slipped an arm around Jo’s waist and the other around Melanie’s shoulders.

“Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When supplies were plentiful, Chuck didn’t feel like his stomach was trying to crawl out his throat. He was at ease when the shelves were filled to bursting and he didn’t have to tell people that they’d have to wait and see if he could get the item they wanted. It was a good thing to look around and knew they had what they needed, even though it wasn’t going to last.

He decided to take the day off. Maybe he’d take a nap or venture over to the shooting range and see if someone there would let him practice. He wasn’t very good, but that’s what practice was for, right? He left Jo, Cas, and Melanie in charge of filling requests, though Cas was doing more kissing and cuddling behind the shelves with Jo or Melanie -- depending on which one walked by him close enough to snag -- than actual work, and took the path that went around the edge of the fence.

The watch team waved a hello as they passed him, not pausing their quiet discussion. Halfway to the shooting range, he stopped to peer outside the fence, thinking he’d seen movement on the other side of the road by that tree line. He scanned the area, standing as still as possible, listening carefully for out of place sounds.

Nothing. No sounds out of the ordinary, no more signs of movement. An animal maybe?

Chuck put his hands in his pockets and glanced up at the tree branches above him and those high across the road. He felt like he was being watched. Creepy. There was nobody there. His imagination tried to conjure up sinister reasons for that sensation and the knowledge that one of those reasons could actually be right made him shiver. The days of being blissfully ignorant of the reality of those weird things that lurked in the shadows were long over.

He started back down the path, strides slowing when he heard Nina’s voice. Great. He rolled his eyes, contemplating turning around and going back. What was she doing out here? Meeting someone that wasn’t Dean perhaps? A male voice too low to understand said something. Who was she talking to?

She wasn’t one of Dean’s best choices of women in Chuck’s opinion. There was something about her that bugged him, but he didn’t say anything to Dean about it, not entirely certain it wasn’t his imagination. He just didn’t like her. She had an obvious sense of entitlement, walking around camp like she was the queen bee just because she was screwing Dean every now and then.

He stood still, debating his choices, trying to hear the conversation, but their voices were gone. With a shrug, Chuck started walking once more, only to walk right into Nina when she ran from that direction. Her slight weight nearly knocked him down.

She scowled, shoving him, “Get out of my way,” and kept on going.

“Sorry, my fault,” he mumbled, knowing full well she wasn’t paying any attention to him.

As he continued around on the path, Chuck looked for signs of another person and caught a quick glimpse of someone ahead of him on the path, but by the time he reached the clearing by the shooting range, whoever it was was gone. He glanced back down the path, debating whether or not to tell Dean about Nina.

No, he decided. Dean already knew what kind of woman she was. Anything Chuck told him wouldn’t be news.

~~~~~~~~~~

Out of all the things that could have surprised Dean the most, it was the sudden realization one evening that he hated seeing Jo with Castiel. It wasn’t just in the realm of discomfort, but rather a full-blown jealous rage. He hated seeing Cas’s arm about her slender waist or shoulders, fingers caressing and Jo liking it. The peace on her face irritated him. She’d never looked so peaceful with him and it pricked at him like thorns in his flesh. The sound of her laughter, faint from Cas’s cabin, annoyed him, especially since he couldn’t even seem to talk to her.

But he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. He had no claim on her anymore. It was a fact Dean knew. They’d tried to be together and failed long before the camp was established, so why did he feel like he was losing her more and more as the days passed? She wasn’t his to lose.

He despised thoughts of Jo responding to Castiel’s touch like she had his. Images of her filled his mind, of her crying out with pleasure, her body flushing. Or her hair tousled as she smoothed that body oil all over. He bet she would have taken that oil if Castiel had given it to her.

Dean found himself being an jerk to both of them, unable to stop himself. It was like a compulsion, one of those obsessive-compulsive things. A knee-jerk reaction to seeing them together.

So when the cabin request came in for Jo, he was relieved. He could relax, be normal again, and maybe begin mending the fence with Jo.

~~~~~~~~~~

The other women filled a need in Castiel, just like he filled a need in Jo. He made no promises of exclusivity, nor did she think she could make him. She was strangely content drifting along as the only woman who slept overnight in Cas’s cabin. Maybe, she decided, that obvious need inside him was why it didn’t bother her.

The other women -- his ‘harem’ as Dean called them in derisive tones, though he’d no room to talk considering he was stringing along three women at once-- came to her like she was Cas’s wife or something, crying on her shoulder, asking for advice. All those sorts of things. He didn’t ask her to take care of them like she would family, but Jo did anyway. It was nice to feel like she had a big family around.

She played the role the women assigned her -- mother, sister, and friend all in one -- and the one Castiel wanted of her, while he played his as well. He loved her and Jo, in return, was that bit of heavy duty anesthetic to get him through the nights and into the following days.

Still, she began to want a place of her own, a place to go to when Cas had Melanie, Maggie, Alexis, Amanda, or Katie over. Aimless wandering about the camp had become boring and she could only take so many hours with Chuck at a time. She decided to broach the subject with Cas.

His reaction surprised her. He tensed, turning his back to her.

“Your own cabin,” he repeated in a flat tone.

Jo rested her cheek against his bare back, right below the base of his neck. One hand kneaded his left shoulder, the other softly stroking his back. She could feel the tension tightening the muscles and sought to clear up any misconception he might have about her request. “It’s not because of you, Cas. Nothing you said or did. I like it here. You know I do.”

“Then stay.”

“I need a place of my own, someplace to go when you have others over. And…I’ve never really had my own place before.”

“This is your place. I want you here.”

The desperation in that last word gave Jo a sudden sharp understanding of his reaction. He thought she was abandoning him.

She wrapped her arms about his waist. “I’ll still spend nights here and if someone comes in who needs it full time, I’ll give it up. I didn’t know it was such an issue.”

It took hours to make it clear that she only wanted a private place to go away from everybody when she didn’t feel like walking all over camp. Besides, she thought there was a good chance the request would be denied. Other people were surely ahead of her on the request list.

However, Dean was chipper about the request, so much so that Doc made several references to pod people when Jo and Cas took a box of supplies to him, a reference that Castiel actually understood. Out of all the references for him to understand, it was that one? Jo had to laugh at that. The request was granted and in two days, Dean himself was knocking at Cas’s doorway before Jo had even finished dressing. He stepped just inside.

“Ready? It’s across camp.” He looked around the cabin. “Want me to carry anything?”

Jo shook her head. She wasn’t moving out, though Dean didn’t know that.

He led her to the tiny cabin that had been repaired for her, apologizing that it was only ten by eight. There just wasn’t a bigger cabin available. He was right in that it was across camp. All the way across, like he sought to put physical distance between her and Cas.

There was a bed set up, a small table, and lamp. Her silence didn’t appear to bother him. Dean talked to her, telling her all about the past week, talking while he hung a curtain rod for her and checked the repairs, though the words were stilted and he rambled back and forth between topics. It was apparent that he thought the request for a cabin meant that she and Cas were on the outs and the fact that that idea made him exuberant saddened her. Once, she thought he might have wished them well because he cared for them both.

He straightened the curtain panels and turned to face her. “Well…. I think you’ll be comfortable here. It’s small, but it could be cozy, I guess. Add a few personal touches, maybe a trunk or something and it’ll be nice. Jo, do you --” He broke off suddenly, gaze flicking to the open door. His nostrils flared, brows pulling down in a frown.

Castiel was leaning there, a faint grin on his lips and his hands in his pockets. His hair looked like he hadn’t bothered combing it before leaving the cabin earlier. “The cabin looks great, Dean. It’s perfect.”

Jo smelled the faint scent of pot and sat down on the bed, scooting so that her back was against the wall and legs stretched out. Hmm. So that was what he’d meant by quality checking the harvest. She crossed her ankles, patting the bed beside her with one hand in an invitation for Cas to join her.

“Perfect,” Dean repeated with raised brows and heavy suspicion.

Cas strolled inside, studying the area with eyes that looked slightly unfocused. “Exactly what Jo wanted.” Coming to the bed, he sat and maneuvered so he could rest his head in Jo’s lap. She smoothed his hair back off his brow with one hand. Cas grabbed that hand, pressed a noisy kiss to it. “Whatever she wants is perfect. Always absolute perfection.”

“Right.”

Looking up, Jo saw a flare of irritation in Dean’s eyes, that good mood he’d been in gone in seconds, mouth turning down in a sour frown.

“There you all are!” Alexis came through the door and straight to the bed, climbing onto it and over to Jo and Cas. She placed an exuberant kiss a little too close to Jo’s mouth for comfort, then bent and kissed Castiel.

The pot scent was on her as well.

She laid her head beside Cas’s in Jo’s lap and took Jo’s free hand in hers, curling up like she did that all the time. She talked a mile a minute about how hungry she was and that they should all go see if Emily had popcorn or something because she was starving to death.

Speculation took root in Dean’s eyes, slid about with the irritation already there and made itself at home. Jo could practically hear him thinking that she seemed awfully at ease with Alexis’s affection.

Alexis was just that way though. Once she knew someone she was touchy-feely, hugs and kisses and hand holding. It was how she expressed her affection -- openly -- and since she liked Jo…. She knew very well Jo wasn’t interested in getting physical. Usually Jo didn’t much attention to those hugs and kisses. Melanie, Maggie, Amanda, and Katie did it too. Since she’d arrived at the camp, her limitations of personal space had undertaken a turnabout. While she still wasn’t comfortable with Melanie watching her sleep, she was more relaxed about touchy-feely people than she’d been.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well. I guess I’ll leave the three of you alone to, uh, christen the place.”

The tension that was ever present between Jo and Dean began to heat up that very afternoon. Thanks to Alexis’s friendly cuddling, Dean obviously assumed Jo was participating in the orgies. She wasn’t sure what pissed her off more -- that he thought she’d do that or that he started making snide remarks without asking her if it was true. The remarks weren’t even direct, but said under his breath just loud enough that she knew they were directed at her. He became even more of an ass than he’d been, a thing Jo hadn’t thought possible.

Jo didn’t care to much for this new Dean Winchester. He had little in common with the man she’d once thought she loved. He was too hurt, hardened, and bitter to appeal to her and when that tension came to a head, it did so in a loud, heated, and very ugly public way.

She was busy ignoring his remarks, but he wouldn’t let her ignore him this time. Dean gripped her arm so tightly it pinched, fingers bruising. “Don’t walk away from me, Jo.”

She whirled, snapping a punch at him that sent him reeling back, nearly taking her with him when he didn’t let go immediately. Jo stumbled, regaining her balance quicker than Dean, who bent, one hand covering his left eye. “Don’t you touch me, Dean! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

“What the hell is your problem?” He stood back up, gingerly pressing around his eye.

“What the hell is my problem? You have to ask that? You’re my problem. This is exactly why I haven’t been talking to you. All the little comments. Do you think you’re being funny? You know, we were over a long time ago, so I can’t figure out why you think it’s your business if I take part in the orgies or not. Why?”

“Do you?” He stepped close.

“If you were so interested, couldn’t you have just asked? No, I don’t. But I am having sex with Cas. I sleep there every night and I like it there. He holds me and tells me I’m beautiful and I don’t really care if it’s the same thing he tells all the women. When he’s with you, he means it and when he’s not with you, he still means it. Every word.” She crossed her arms. “I need that. I need him. Him Dean. Not you, so you can stop that jealous shit right now. You don’t get to be jealous. You lost that right a long time ago.”

An ugly calculating glint filled his eyes. Half the time anymore, Jo thought she must have dreamt the Dean who’d walked into the Roadhouse that day long ago. He moved even closer, towering over her. “He told Ellen all that too, or didn’t you know he was doing her back then?”

Jo clenched her fists tight. “You’re an ass,” she spat.

“Thanks. Every time you and I met up, he’d go off with her for some afternoon, evening, morning delight. How do you think you compare?”

She gritted her teeth.

“You know he compares you, right? Mother and daughter. I mean, how could a guy not?”

They argued back and forth, old hurts getting in the way of newer ones, bubbling up and out for all to hear. As the fight continued, a crowd began to grow. Jo whirled, moving towards Cas’s cabin, Dean behind her every step, his words growing even uglier, cruder, deliberately hurting. He painted Cas in the worst light possible, pausing for only a second in the doorway before following her inside. He wouldn’t stop, even when her foot made repeated contact with his shins, his scornful, hateful voice driving her back. He said things she never thought she’d ever hear from his lips, used language she’d never heard him use, firing verbal missiles so fast and hard that she could no longer reply for the force of the emotions rolling over her.

This had been building between them for a long time.

She retreated from him, stumbling behind the curtain by the bed, wedging herself in the corner there and sliding down to sit curled up. Tears blinded her, tears of rage.

She had never thought she’d see the day when Dean would hurt her on purpose. He went straight for her weak points, jabbing over and over until he just…stopped. She wiped away tears with a shaking hand, her vision clear long enough to see the expression of intense self loathing on his face. He drew in a deep shuddering breath and stumbled from the cabin.

Jo wept.

~~~~~~~~~~

What am I doing?

The sight of Jo cowering before him registered with a shock. She was shaking and crying, trying to make herself as small as possible there in the corner. Dean backed away, blinking rapidly several times, not sure he was seeing himself doing what he knew he was.

He was hurting Jo. His Jo. He was doing it on purpose.

What’s wrong with me?

It felt like he’d exploded. There should be little bits of him all over the place. Beneath the somewhat drained sensation was nausea and the realization that he wasn’t empty of these feelings yet. There was still more he wanted to say, verbal puke threatening to spill out to hurt her more.

Dean forced himself away from her before he could throw more ugly verbal garbage at her, nearly falling down the steps outside in his haste to be leave. He made his way across the camp to the Impala, sat inside, and made himself hold on to that painful image of Jo cringing in the corner.

How could he do that to her? How could he lose control over his temper to such an extent? How…?

It was still there, that anger, simmering under the surface of him. He wanted to hit something, to punch until his hands were bloody and broken and keep on punching until all of the pain inside him had been purged.

I can’t, he told himself. I have to hold it together.

But how long could he do that before his temper could no longer be reigned in?