Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: Ten

~~~~~~~~~~

There were certain areas of the country that Ellen Devlin was drawn to -- South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado -- and she had to conclude that those places had a part in the past she couldn’t remember. She kept pretty much to those areas, hoping something might trigger a return of anything prior to 2010.

She found enough hunting jobs to keep her in the game, mostly piddling things like mild ghost cases. The activities made her feel peaceful in a way, which was strange considering the nature of what she was doing.

Ellen minded her own business and expected others to do the same. Occasionally, she got hit on, men who called her ‘darlin’, ‘honey’, and ‘baby’. None of them appealed to her, though several were rather attractive. For the most part, her life was a solitary one. It wasn’t that Ellen was lonely exactly, for she was comfortable with her own company and knew somehow that she always had been. There was simply an underlying sense that she needed a hunting partner. Not for the physical help really. Ellen knew the job and could do what was required. Rather she needed the occasional fresh pair of eyes on information and on task. Younger eyes to be specific, and the sort who liked computers and didn’t become frustrated with new technology.

A part of her suspected she’d had such a hunting partner before 2009 and the reason she wasn’t remembering her past was because it was too painful to do so. She’d done some research on amnesia, enough to know her case was a weird one even by doctor’s standards. Strange how she couldn’t remember seeing any doctors or being in a hospital. She supposed it was possible that those missing portions of 2009-2010 explained that.

When she discovered the young woman following her, it both amused her and set her mind to furious circles of thought. The woman -- Gwen -- was young enough to spark a protective urge in her. Ellen quickly found herself wanting to take her under her wing, be the hunting partner Gwen proposed.

They sat at a back booth in the nearest bar, moving straight to the meat of the matter.

“You want to hunt with me, I guess we can try it.” Ellen tapped her beer bottle on the table a few times, then pointed the mouth at Gwen. “But there’s a few things you should know first. My long-term memory from 2009 back is shot. Personal details are gone. Hell, I’m not even sure if Devlin is my real last name or an alias. I know I had a family, know that they’re dead, but the specifics aren’t there. Don’t know if it was hellspawn that got ‘em or natural things. 2010 is spotty for me as well. I’ve got gaping holes I can’t explain.”

Gwen’s expression didn’t change and Ellen suppressed a grudging smile. This young woman had mettle, reminding her of someone. Too bad Ellen couldn’t connect the dots on who that someone was. For all she knew, Gwen could be reminding her of herself at that age.

“What I do know is that I’m a hunter. That’s all there. Those details do come out. It’s my job, my life, though I don’t think it always was. Don’t know for sure. So.” She crossed her arms on the edge of the table. “Tell me all about yourself, Gwen. Training, what got you into the life to begin with.”

She took a French fry from the nearly empty plate in front of her and ate it before saying, “I grew up in it. Had a hand in all aspects of hunting from the research to putting the salt in rounds to actively going out. It was a family operation.”

“Why’d you leave? Too restrictive?” It was a leading question and obvious in that respect.

Her laugh was rough and quick. “Sometimes. It gets trying getting told to bring up the rear all the time because the patriarch wants to protect you from getting hurt. No, that was irksome, but it wasn’t why I left.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s a long story that boils down to a deal made that ended up with hunters being forced to work for a demon. A demon, Ellen,” her lips twisted in a disgusted grimace. “That goes against everything I was ever taught and…I finally left. Only two of my family -- distant cousins -- supported me in that. The only question they asked is why I stayed as long as I did. The rest….” She shrugged, the gesture not nearly as nonchalant as she tried to make it appear. “They can go hang themselves and if I see a couple of them ever again….” That last sentence trailed off with a lift of her brows and a hard gleam in her eyes. Something had happened there that was far more than what Gwen was telling. The two she spoke of had hurt her personally.

Ellen was struck again by that feeling of familiarity. “You’re used to working in a team?”

“I am.”

“Can you take orders?”

“I said I got told to bring up the rear all the time.”

“Yeah, and just because you were told doesn’t mean you took those orders, does it?”

Gwen shoved the now empty plate away. “Look, I can take orders and give them --”

“Good, then we can work together. You’ll need to take orders sometimes, Gwen, but we’ll do this as even as possible. Divvy up the work. See how it works out. If we can’t work together, we go our separate ways. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They began that sharing of information right then, outlining jobs they’d both heard of and planning on how to go about hunts together. Ellen had a continued sense of dejá -vu, knowing she’d had a similar conversation before, yet not having any idea when or with who, or if she’d been on the same side of it she was now.

As the weeks passed, she and Gwen slid into a genuine partnership, moving around in what would appear an erratic path if anyone was following them. Ellen didn’t think there was anyone following them, but better safe than sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo headed out on her own far quicker than she knew any of them expected of her. It wasn’t a case of wanting to leave them. Not at all. She would have loved to stay there at Bobby’s and pass a few days and even weeks with Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Especially with Dean. However, her mother needed her. No matter what condition she was in, Ellen needed Jo.

She was anxious to begin searching for her mother even though she had no idea even where to really begin. The list of people her mother had known was a long one, but Jo only remembered a few for sure. There were some high school friends of Ellen’s scattered across the country and an estranged aunt in Colorado. Jo made a mental list as she drove, pushing herself to reach her apartment. It was probably best to take her search in sections. She’d start with people in Rhode Island and work her way west, back towards Bobby’s house, wait for Castiel to call her, and pick up jobs along the way. With luck, someone somewhere had seen Ellen.

Her apartment smelled a little musty from being locked up and had that depressing look of a house too long empty. The colors seemed shades of gray and Jo immediately hated the tiny apartment. She remembered Zachariah had done the most damage right in that living room after berating her for not following his script for her. He’d had her writhing on the floor in agony…. Gathering the belongings she wanted, Jo found a motel, feeling better emotionally when away from the apartment.

She cleaned out her bank account, pleased that she’d remembered adequately the amount of funds she’d had available. Out of curiosity, she went online to the bank she and her mom had used and was surprised to discover the user names and password still worked. The account Ellen had used for their supplies and living expenses as they’d traveled was all still there, as was Jo’s own account. They were minus fees, of course, for having not been used often, and had once a month tiny withdrawals of no more than a few dollars. The amounts were just enough to keep the accounts active and Jo smiled to herself.

Ellen had given Bobby the information in case something happened to them, telling him they wanted him to use the money and pass it on however he thought best. Bobby hadn’t used it, not really. He’d kept the accounts active and that was all. Why? Had some part of him hoped they’d be back even after he knew they were dead?

Jo decided to let Bobby keep his reasons to himself, whether it was hope or a hesitance to plunder their accounts for his own use. An honorable guy, that Bobby….

The only trouble Jo had in Rhode Island was trying to give some sort of explanation to those nice people she’d worked with. She ended up giving them a whopper story about identical twins that sounded fantastical. Jo wasn’t sure why she bothered save the fact that they’d been nice to her and tried to protect her. These people in this little town had cared. They’d taken in a broken woman and tried to heal her and help her become whole.

The bright spot in the days that followed was Dean. He texted her regularly, little questions and comments that lifted her spirits. He was far better at texting than he’d ever been at calling. Some mornings she’d wake and find upwards of ten texts in a row from him, all waiting there for her to reply to. Some were serious, but for the most part, they were silly things and she replied in kind.

Three weeks after leaving Bobby’s, Jo laid down on her stomach on the motel bed and called Dean.

“So here I am, in Indiana, cleaning up after a particularly active poltergeist, and I started wondering what you and Sam were up to. That animated ventriloquist dummy in Maryland pan out?”

He laughed. Jo heard the clink of dishes in the background. “Sure did. You know, it turns out Sam finds them just as creepy as clowns.”

“They are just as creepy as clowns. Was it a spell animated it?”

“Nope.”

“Was it cursed?”

“Weirder. It was possessed.”

“Possessed? You’re pulling my leg. Inanimate objects don’t become possessed.” She rolled onto her back.

“They do when someone gets hold of one of those heavenly weapons and uses it to channel a fleeing demon into it. Castiel was beyond pissed.”

“What weapon was it?”

“I don’t know. Cas started muttering in Enochian and tore out of there as soon as he’d figured out what was causing it.” He laughed again. By his tone, it sounded like he’d had a few drinks with dinner. “You should have seen us, Jo, with a dummy tied to a chair doing an exorcism on it while it screamed obscenities at us.”

She could picture it and grinned. “How long did it take you to get it tied to the chair?”

“Sam wrestled it. Man, Jo, it was like watching Child’s Play. The thing even resembled Chucky. I’ll never be able to watch that movie again. Hell, even Bride of Chucky is tainted now and Jennifer Tilly’s rack made that movie. Hold on.” She heard him mumble something to someone and then he was back. “I had visions of someone trying to put together a doll and dummy army by channeling demons into them. Can you imagine how creepy it’d be to see these tiny inanimate objects alive and coming at you with all their tiny little knives and things?”

They talked for nearly an hour, Jo describing her own hunting trials and mentioning that she’d heard nothing from Castiel as yet aside from the initial talk they’d had.

“He’s having a tough time,” Dean told her. “Those freakin’ angels can’t seem to make up their minds whose side they’re on. He’ll have allies one day that turn on him the next, though he did admit when he was here about the dummy that he’s stumbled on some strangely easy victories recently.”

“How so?”

“Just battles he thought were hopeless suddenly turning in his favor, things like that. He says someone has to be helping him, only he can’t figure out who it is. He thought it was one angel only he turned up dead. Then he thought it was another, only that one betrayed him. Like I said, freakin’ angels can’t decide which side they’re on.”

It was sad, in her opinion. Poor Castiel, torn between friends and family. She hoped that someday he’d have an end to that war and would finally be able to rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t enough to restart the Apocalypse. Raphael had to run heaven himself in the meantime -- with an iron fist if necessary. Whatever he wanted was what was mandated and he had no hesitation in murdering his own soldiers if they hesitated in following his orders. He killed angels and humans both, using humans as shields and diversions.

At first, Raphael’s goal had seemed worthy. Restart the Apocalypse, bring on Paradise. Rest for all of them. Wasn’t Paradise what they’d all dreamed of anyway? The glory, the peace…. Yet as the war dragged on, Raphael’s orders had become more and more bloodthirsty, even irrational and contradictory. He didn’t care about his own soldiers, which saddened Uzziel. To Raphael, even his own brothers and sisters were simply pawns to be thrown away at will. Uzziel didn’t care for this spilling of blood that was necessary and even less for that which was unnecessary.

In fact, the more he learned about Castiel’s viewpoint, the more he realized he had in common with him. Castiel wanted peace and for all angels to get along and learn to love humanity because God loved them. Castiel hated this fight. Uzziel hated this fight and while he wasn’t sure he could love humans, he too wanted peace at last. They’d been warring for so long now, for one reason or another, that he’d like very much to see an end. The desire to an end to the fighting was why he’d stepped up to join Raphael to begin with, yet Raphael was no longer making sense. He’d ceased to be logical.

His war had become personal, no longer a war just to gain Paradise, but a war against Castiel and against the obvious favor God had shown him. God had resurrected Castiel not once but twice and He was the only one who could have brought an angel back from that nothingness of death. He’d chosen Castiel of all angels, to have His favor…. Not Michael, Gabriel, or Raphael, but a lower level angel that had barely been more than a foot soldier. Raphael was jealous and was letting that color this war. He was determined to destroy Castiel and anyone who dared to follow him. He didn’t like being passed over in favor for a foot soldier any more than he’d liked the favor turned upon the humans. His jealousy drove him.

Their Father wasn’t completely absent or disinterested. Uzziel could see that and it made him uneasy to realize it. Was their Father watching them all? Noting who was disobeying and who was trying to follow those last orders He’d issued long ago? He’d shown favor to Castiel, so did that mean Castiel was in the right?

Uzziel had a terrible suspicion that it did and that they were all going to be eventually judged by their current actions.

He suppressed a sigh, careful to keep his thoughts covered over so others wouldn’t glean his intentions.

Raphael had gone mad in his jealousy. It was the only explanation that explained the orders he continued to issue.

So what did any general do when he realized his supremely powerful commander had lost his mind and the only eventual outcome would be the destruction of every one and every thing?

He set about protecting those around him from the madness in any way he could, even if it meant giving ground to the supposed enemy.

Uzziel, first general to Raphael and one of the most trusted in that one’s entourage, began to feed Castiel all he’d need to bring an end to this war. He leaked battle plans and locations of key players and had even sent Laurel to him, knowing very well what the outcome of that would be. He’d needed to get rid of her and, by sending her to ‘deal’ with Castiel, he hadn’t needed to get his hands dirty. He could stay in the shadows a bit longer. It’d be best if he wasn’t revealed until the very last possible moment. He planned to wait until, hopefully, he was in a position to kill Raphael and end it all. Or until Castiel was in that position and he could aid him in it. One of the two. Whichever it was, Uzziel intended to make sure Raphael was dead in the near future.

The more Raphael’s madness displayed itself, the harder Uzziel worked, walking a tightrope of deceit. Paradise, no matter how glorious and enticing, simply wasn’t worth the price they were all going to pay for it in the end.

In the meantime, he began to gather to him those he could trust; who were as disillusioned and disgruntled by Raphael’s leadership as he was. He gathered a core of soldiers and sought to prepare for the turning of the tide.

Uzziel slipped away, giving all appearance of going about Raphael’s orders while doing everything he could to covertly aid Castiel. Like he had with the two women. Uzziel had had to practically tap-dance right in front of Castiel to get him to follow him. Castiel could be as single-minded as Raphael, both a good and bad thing. He’d been so focused on whatever task he’d been about that he’d nearly missed the golden opportunity Uzziel had repeatedly dangled in front of him.

It wasn’t that Castiel was slow mentally. Hardly. He was a very smart angel of above average intelligence. He was simply that focused. Uzziel thought that was one reason why it had been Castiel to reach Dean Winchester first in hell. He’d been told it was his assignment and he’d set about it with an enviable single-mindedness, not resting until he’d reached him. He’d pushed on despite the battle raging around him and despite all the odds against him, looking solely on that objective.

Uzziel had led Castiel to Jo Harvelle, knitted together a sliver of her mind and not closed off the memory center like he was supposed to. It was a no-brainer that Castiel would make sure Jo got to the Winchesters and that they’d fight to make her regain her memories. Everyone knew what family and friends meant to them.

As for Ellen…. He had fixed the ugly memories Zachariah had implanted like he was supposed to. She’d been programmed to think the Winchester brothers had kidnapped, raped and murdered Jo, then left her body for Ellen to find. Uzziel had removed that, but left the barrier to her real memories in place. It couldn’t be too obvious that he hadn’t finished the job. It had to look like he’d followed orders with her since he’d led Castiel to Jo. He’d made certain her memories of hunting were always there in the background. Not free to be accessed exactly, but rather there beneath her consciousness, giving her instinctual reactions. She knew she’d hunted and that it had been part of her. Then, he shopped around for the best place to put her, deciding it was a stroke of genius to engineer a meeting between her and the Campbell woman. She’d taken the bait of a job and gone merrily on her way to it, crossing Gwen’s path and ensuring that she, too, would eventually be back with not only her daughter, but those she’d considered family.

He was pleased by how well he’d planned that.

The women weren’t of any importance in the grand scheme of things, but they were important to Sam and Dean Winchester. Uzziel normally had no respect for humans, but he could respect how well those two had turned all of the angels on their asses and how well they’d displayed what free will could do. He could respect that Sam and Dean Winchester had played the Apocalypse with their own rules and won in the end. Above all, he could respect what they’d shown about family.

Like Castiel, Uzziel also wished angels could behave like Sam and Dean had towards family. The familial bond was a powerful one and it had been a very long time since Uzziel had seen it at work in the angelic realm.

He saw nothing wrong with letting them have some family back. It would have happened eventually anyway. Jo Harvelle had already been showing signs of breaking through Zachariah’s conditioning when Uzziel had seen her and Ellen had been on her way as well. He’d simply speeded up the process by a couple years. So really, he didn’t count that side task as insurrection against Raphael’s orders at all.

Uzziel slipped across the night sky, placing another trail for Castiel to find. This one would give him more ground and, if played right, the turning would genuinely begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

The more Ellen learned about Gwen’s family, the more she thought there was something off about it all. A formerly unknown patriarch suddenly showing up and taking over? Gwen’s own upbringing had the appearance to her of orphans taken in and trained from a young age. It’d be a way for semi-retired hunters to both care for other hunter’s children that had been orphaned and ensure the trade continued.

If that was the case, it meant there was a far more organized effort than she’d thought. Perhaps she herself had been a part of it even. She wondered if any of that family Gwen had mentioned would recognize her. It’d be nice to hear something of her forgotten past.

Still, it was all speculation. Gwen wasn’t awfully forthcoming on the details, seeming to want to forget her family altogether -- save those two distant cousins. One of them texted her at all hours of the day or night and she sometimes had long conversations with the other one.

“Tell me about them,” she asked in a lull during a stakeout.

“Not much to tell.”

Ellen waited, sipping at a cup of coffee. Usually she didn’t drink coffee at night, as it kept her awake all hours, but for a stakeout it was essential.

Gwen’s quiet had a weighted sense to it, as though she was trying to decide how much to mention. Finally, she shifted in the seat and spoke. “I met Sam first. Sam Winchester, like the gun.”

The name was familiar, though Ellen couldn’t say where she’d heard it before. An image formed in her head, hazy and indistinct, of a tall young man with shaggy hair.

“He was calm and cool. Never seemed to get ruffled by anything. I later learned there was a reason for that. He had a …soul…problem. Once that was fixed, I had to get to know him all over again and discovered he was very different than what I’d thought. He’s a good guy to chat with now. I’ve told him more about how I feel about my branch of the family than I’ve ever told anyone and he always listens. He never tries to get me to go back. Says it’s okay to find my own way.”

She already knew from asking that there wasn’t anyone left that Gwen had felt close to in regards to her family. They’d all died or betrayed her -- except the two cousins. Gwen was calling them her family now. “What about the other one?”

Gwen laughed. “Dean. Dean Winchester.”

That name produced another hazy picture in her head, almost like a ghost there, barely visible. Another tall young man, older than the first one.

“He’s different from Sam. I wasn’t sure I liked him at first, but he grows on you, kind of like mold. When I met him he was trying to keep a thing going with a civilian. You can imagine how well that turned out.” She stretched her legs out. “He’s one of those guys that when he considers you family, he goes all out for you, you know? He’ll have your back and somehow know when it’s okay not to, even if you think he should. When I left, he sent me the snarkiest text…. Calls me ‘Supergirl’, but he doesn’t mean it in a mean way. He’s just…encouraging me in his own way. It helps.”

Ellen could understand that. Having a tie to someone who supported you could make a world of difference.

“I know they’re both there if I need them.”

“Having people is important. Even hunters need people.”

This partnership had helped Ellen’s own outlook in recent days. She found she was sleeping better and felt very much like they were inching towards the edge of something life changing. Ellen could feel it coming and wasn’t sure whether to batten down the hatches or let whatever it was sweep them both away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Texting was in no way a substitute for real contact, a thing Dean reflected on often. While he had no trouble flirting up a storm with the willing women around him, he found himself wondering how Jo would react. He could almost hear her voice in his ear from time to time, telling him this one wasn’t busty enough for him or that one had too many obvious miles on her. He could picture that scene with ease.

Nearly two months after they’d parted ways, he opened up their motel room door to find her standing there, looking innocent, her hair loose about her shoulders. Snowflakes dotted her hair, snow swirling behind her. He noticed a car parked far too close to the Impala on the passenger side and to another car’s driver’s side. He looked at it a beat, then at her. “If you scratched my car --”

“Relax. I’d never scratch her, Dean. I know how much she means to you.”

“How many times did you have to try parking to get it that close without scratching my car?”

“Just the once. I have a gift. I’ve been cussed out for that gift many a time, too.”

“How did you get out?” There barely looked room on either side, though she was sort of little….

“Climbed out the passenger side,” she replied with a shrug. “Window doesn’t close.”

“Quite a car you chose. Where’s the other one?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Bobby’s repairing the other one for me and I thought why not borrow one of his cars and come see you two? You going to invite me in?”

“What happened?” He stepped aside and opened the door wider. Jo hefted her bag and came inside. He caught a whiff of perfume as she passed, a delicate floral scent.

“Brakes were shot. Found that out on a mountain road. Not fun. I think the words ‘Oh God, oh God, I’m going to die again’ may have even been uttered, though I’m not entirely certain because it’s all sort of a blur.” She dropped her bag on the end of one bed and turned, hands resting on her hips. “You’re looking well.”

Dean closed the door and walked over to her. His heart had about skipped a beat there for a second, but he concluded she was joking about the brakes. “So are you.”

“Flatterer.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, gave the room an exaggerated once over, including a bent over peering into the bathroom, then stood upright again and grinned. “So…. Where’s Sam?”

“On a hot date. Left about five minutes ago, which,” he waggled a finger at her, “I suspect you know very well.”

Her grin widened and Jo took a step closer, then another, until she was in that personal space area he usually yelled at Castiel for invading. Funny, he didn’t mind Jo doing it. “You got me, Winchester. I’ve been sitting out there waiting for one of you to leave your room so I knew which one you were in and could surprise you. Sam so obligingly came out, leaving you all alone and I thought you might get lonely in here all by yourself.” Her hands raised, grasping his biceps, sliding up to his shoulders. “Could you use some company, Dean?” There was a playful light in her eyes.

He slid his arms around her, drawing her closer. “I think you read my mind.” He was lowering his head to kiss her, his lips actually touching hers, when the door burst open.

“Gun, gun, gun!” Sam dove for one bag, ripped it open, and turned, firing as a large, rather hairy creature appeared in the door. He emptied the clip into it even as he fell onto the floor. The creature flew backwards, landing on the hood and windshield of Jo’s car. Glass crunched.

In the silence following the shots, all that could be heard were Sam’s harsh breaths and the traffic out on the highway. Jo drew away. She stared at the creature and car, her mouth opening. “Oh…. Oh…. Bobby’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Um…Sam?” Dean pointed at the creature and took a few steps towards the open door.

The creature became a naked man.

“I found that Skinwalker,” Sam gasped, laying back and letting out a long whooshing breath. “Or rather, he found me.” After a moment, he raised his head. “Hey, Jo. You look good.”

She gave a weak laugh and smile, “Thanks,” and gestured at the car again. “I promised him it’d come back in one piece. One piece, Sam! Now what the hell am I supposed to tell him?”

Dean almost smiled. A civilian would be freaking out right now. But Jo? She focused on the damn car. He put his arm around her and sighed. It was refreshing really.

“What,” she snapped, looking up t him.

“Just…glad you’re here is all.”

Jo rolled her eyes and pointed at the car with both hands. “It’s undriveable, guys. There’s no freakin’ way it’ll even start. Especially with the shape shifter still on the hood. Are you moving him, Sam? Because I’m not touching him.”

“We’ll drive you back to Bobby’s,” Sam offered.

“You bet your sweet ass you will. And you’ll explain to him that this was so not my fault this time.”

“This time?”

“I may have had a few incidents in the past with cars he’s loaned me.”

Dean released Jo, closed the motel room door, and listened to the sounds of them bickering about the car while he packed up his and Sam’s belongings. If they were lucky, they could ditch the scene before anyone showed up to investigate. He packed the car, throwing Jo’s bag in as well, whistling softly to himself and keeping an eye out for people.

“Okay, time to go. Everyone in the car.”

“Shotgun,” Jo called in a sing-song voice, opening the driver’s door and crawling across the seat.

Sam got in the back and within minutes, they were on the road, heading back to Bobby’s.