Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: Eleven

~~~~~~~~~~

Weariness encased Castiel, a thing he wore like the clothing on his body. Just once, he’d like to have an ally that remained one for more than a moment or two. He was tired, plain and simple, more so than he’d ever been, running himself ragged in an attempt to continue gaining any sort of ground against Raphael. It seemed that for every step forward in the war, he ended up two back. Dean’s malaise a couple years earlier now made perfect sense. Castiel was there now himself, nearly to the point of not caring any longer what happened. Stay, go, live, die, fall. What did it all matter? It was going to be an eternal struggle anyway and Raphael held all of the cards.

Maybe it’d be best if he got out, faked his own death like Balthazar and went into Witness Protection like Gabriel had. He could change his name, pretend to be someone else. Gabriel had managed very well at that and so had Balthazar.

Castiel sighed.

He was having trouble concentrating and facing each coming hour was a chore. Uncertain what to do or where to go, he moved towards one place he knew he should go. It had been a long while since he’d updated Jo on his search for Ellen. The last update had been right after she’d returned to herself. While he’d seen both Sam and Dean since then, he’d been reluctant to tell Jo his lack of progress and see the disappointment on her face. There was shamefully no progress at all on the search, his attention focused elsewhere. Castiel wondered if Jo would understand. It’d be nice if she did. Too often those humans he knew were too caught up in their own problems to consider his. However, she’d asked once on the progress of the war. Perhaps she would show him concern again?

He found Jo and sat at the chair by the table, waiting for her to wake. It wouldn’t be long. Sitting still, he could feel the consciousness flooding her body in degrees. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Her room was quiet. Peaceful even in the early morning hour. Slowly, his shoulders slumped as tension eased in the warm calm of Jo’s presence.

When was the last time he’d had the time to sit still anywhere? Castiel reflected upon that. It had been so very long. His days of calming himself while sitting in a park somewhere were long gone. He hadn’t done that in months and missed those grounding moments reflecting on God’s creations.

He heard a gasp and then Jo’s voice, husky with the remnant of sleep.

“Castiel? Hi. What…um…what are you doing here?”

Cas heard the rustling of the bedcovers and opened his eyes. Her hair was a wild tangle about her head and shoulders. He made a mental note that Dean would like seeing her this way. She was very pretty having just woken from sleep. Were all women that way? “I came to inform you…. I regret that I’ve not had time to search for Ellen. The battles above have escalated and I’ve been…occupied there.”

She got out of bed and padded over on sock feet. Her pajamas were big on her, making her appear fragile. “You look tired.” One hand stretched out as though to touch his face and drew back before nearing his skin. She moved to his left, pouring water in the coffee maker set up on the low dresser.

“Angels don’t become tired,” he said automatically, though it wasn’t technically true. They didn’t sleep, but they could grow weary, as he’d done these past long months of war. They could experience moments of mental fatigue.

“Mmm.” Jo’s lips pursed, a sliver of doubt in her eyes.

He smelled the nutty aroma of coffee brewing and took a slow deep breath through his nose. It was as familiar to him as the scent of beer in a glass. Comforting. Strange that such a human thing, a scent, and a beverage at that, could soothe him. “We don’t become tired,” Cas repeated, a little slower than he’d said it the first time.

Her glance returned to him briefly. “Sure. You just look like you are.”

“I’m not tired.” It was truth. The word ‘tired’ didn’t begin to cover the utter bone weariness of his entire being.

Jo smothered a yawn with one hand. “Exhausted, then.” She poured the coffee into two Styrofoam cups and came to the table, holding one out. “Here.”

Castiel stared up at her, then at the cup, and back up at her. She was giving him a cup of coffee? Why?

“Take it. Drink it. Catch your breath. Rest, you know, even though you don’t need rest.”

“I can’t rest, Jo.”

“You just did for however how long you’ve been sitting here. Will another few minutes mean an end to everything?”

“Possibly.” He was trying not to think of just how much ground he could be losing by being here for even a minute.

“Oh.” She looked surprised, her brows raising as she set the cup she’d offered him down on the table and sat in the second chair across from him. Her hands wrapped about her own cup a moment before she placed it, too, on the table and got back up. “Well…. I’ll put the lid on your cup and you can take it with you.”

He almost smiled at her sleepy insistence that he take his coffee with him. Castiel opened his mouth to tell her he couldn’t take the coffee where he was going, and decided against it. She was trying to do a nice thing and it bolstered his mood a fraction. “Thank you.” Did she do this with Dean; offer him some measure of comfort in such manner?

Jo snapped the lid in place. “There you go.” She tapped her fingers on the lid. “I’m sorry, did you want sugar or something in it? I should have asked --”

“Black is fine. Thank you, Jo.”

She smiled. “Then you’re all set.”

He didn’t move, reluctant to leave the calm of her presence. Her next words made him want to stay even more. To have someone express concern over him…. While he knew Dean, Sam, and Bobby cared, they weren’t particularly demonstrative about their affection for him. Occasionally, they’d say what they felt and ask about him, but not often. Jo expressed her concern and he was grateful for it. It made him feel…better.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waking to find another person in her room wasn’t a thing Jo was used to, but since she’d locked up tighter than tight, her sleep-fuddled brain only took a second to register that presence as Castiel. She was suddenly glad she was wearing the new fleece pajamas she’d bought when the temperature had taken a nosedive into the single digits. She didn’t feel as weird about him there as she would while wearing her other, less covering nightwear.

Both the time passing and the angelic war weren’t being kind to Castiel. Not only could Jo see it in the way he held himself in that chair, she could feel it in the air. His posture was less than correct, the expression in his eyes that of one who’s dangling by a thread that’s steadily breaking. Exhaustion clung to him and Jo felt tired just looking at him.

Not only was he tired, he was dispirited. It must be demanding being the only steady angel holding back Raphael’s progress. From the snippets Dean and Sam told her, it was no wonder Castiel was wearing down. He’d been running at full tilt for well over a single year now in earth time. What was that in angelic time? Jo didn’t know if there was a time difference or not. The only wonder was that his breakdown hadn’t come sooner.

How did one comfort a disheartened angel? Under normal conditions, she’d offer a hug or hold his hand for awhile, but these were hardly normal conditions. Castiel was no longer fallen and learning comfort in human actions. He wasn’t as approachable as he’d been while fallen, and considering how barely approachable he’d been then…. It seemed obvious to her that he was more than human; something to be respected. There was a difference between him now and how he’d been before Carthage. Dean and Sam may treat him like they did anyone else, but Jo wasn’t quite there yet, nor did she think she would be, not with him in full-on angel mode.

Hugging was out of the question, as was holding his hand. Maybe a pat on his back or shoulder would be okay? She eyed him for a quick second. Then again, maybe not.

So Jo did the only thing she knew to do. She made him coffee since she didn’t have any alcohol to mix a drink. He gave her a confused and curious stare when she handed him the cup, but since he wasn’t physically approachable, it would have to do. One act of thoughtful kindness.

He mentioned that staying could actually be an end to everything, which, when she thought about it, did make sense. As fast as he moved, she should have figured the other angels moved just as fast. The pace of life in the heavenly realm must make rush hour traffic on earth look slow as molasses or even slower. Jo added a lid to his cup, thinking that if he couldn’t take the time to drink it here, at least he could have it with him and maybe it’d help keep him warm out in the cold. Though…did heaven have temperatures like earth? Did he even feel the cold outside? There was so much she was realizing she didn’t know about him.

“Do you want to talk about it,” she blurted out, handing the cup back to him and sitting down.

Castiel wrapped the fingers of both hands about the cup, leaned his head back, then slowly shook it.

“Okay.” Jo used the sort of gentle tone she normally reserved for children. For a fierce angel of the Lord, he was giving off a very childlike vulnerable air at present. “I’ll listen if you ever do want to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” She’d heard many people’s troubles while bartending. Was it so far out to listen to an angel’s troubles as well? “Sometimes talking can help us feel better.”

He blinked, brow furrowing. “You wish to listen to me?”

“Only if you want, Castiel. Doesn’t everyone, even an angel, need someone to talk to sometimes?”

“Why do you not call me ‘Cas’ as Dean, Sam, and Bobby do?”

“I don’t know you well enough yet.” She took a sip of her coffee. For motel coffee it was actually rather decent.

“That word ‘yet’ implies that you assume I’ll survive this war. My continued survival isn’t a given.”

“You’ve proven rather hard to kill, right? I expect you’ll be with us for a very long time.”

As they spoke, he slowly sat up straighter until his posture was once more correct, a fragment of the fatigue slipping from his features. It wasn’t much in the whole of what he appeared to be feeling, but it seemed enough to fortify him.

“Thank you, Jo.” He stood.

“For what?”

“For being your mother’s daughter.” With a twitch of his lips that could have been the beginning of a smile, he disappeared.

“You’re welcome.” Jo sat thinking on what little he’d said and his appearance, and reached for her phone. She’d leave Dean a text. If he could send her messages at all hours, she could return the favor.

‘Cas was here. Where r u?’

To her surprise, an answer came within a minute.

‘MN. What’d he want?’

Why was Dean awake at…she did a mental calculation…five-thirty his time?

‘Would rather talk in person. Location?’

He gave her their location. Jo checked the forecast, packed up, and headed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam glanced at Dean while he drove them back to their motel. He was holding that Best Buy package like it had a million bucks stashed inside it, his expression overly pleased as he crooned what Sam realized was ‘I Can’t Fight This Feeling’ under his breath.

“Okay, I gotta ask. What’s in the bag?” Sam himself had declined going into Best Buy this time, going instead to the guns and ammo shop he’d found and picking up a few things they needed.

“Jo’s coming to meet us.”

As if that explained it completely. Though maybe it did, he decided. Dean was growing more attached to her with every interaction, whether it was texts (and there were a ton of those almost daily), phone calls (she’d call out of the blue to chat or ask a question that had an answer Sam knew she already knew), and visits (sometimes he thought either she was following their path across the U.S or they were following hers). Then there were the ‘my car is having issues’ calls that sent Dean out to wherever she was every time to fix it for her.

The last one had gotten them up against a vampire who’d taken a shine to her and wanted her to join him. Jo had declined rather forcefully and when her refusal didn’t work, Dean and Sam had stepped in to help with the problem.

Did Dean realize that her ‘car issues’ were nothing more than ploys to get him to wherever she was? There was rarely anything actually wrong with the car when they got there. He ought to realize it.

“And?”

Dean adjusted the heater settings. “It’s Christmas. She hasn’t had a Christmas in years now.”

“You’re going to give her one?”

His brows waggled. “I’m gonna give her something alright.”

A snort of laughter hurt his nose. “I thought you two already…you know.”

“No, no. Jo’s got that whole self respect stuff going on. I’ve been respecting her boundaries and I think that’s going to pay off big-time.”

Interesting. He was respecting her ‘boundaries’. “Who are you and what have you done with Dean?”

“Funny.” He shook a finger at him. “No, I’m kind of liking this anticipation thing with her. When I finally get…. It’s going to be something….”

“Special?”

“You’re going to leave the room for a good long while when she gets here. In fact, maybe you should get your own room.”

“You’re throwing me out on Christmas?”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Should you be unwrapping Jo then?”

Dean didn’t answer.

~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn’t a girlfriend, except in the fact that she was both female and a friend, nor was she a friend with full benefits. In Dean’s opinion, a few kisses and gropes didn’t count to that latter end unless they led to more adult activities and near spontaneous combustion. So what was Jo exactly?

She was a friend, female, well on her way to being a lover, yet was somehow still in that funny gray area in-between. Could that even count as a girlfriend? It wasn’t like they were exclusive or anything. He simply hadn’t felt like picking up any women lately…. Flirted, yes, but actually bringing one back to the room…no.

As he’d told Sam, Jo had a self-respect thing going on where she didn’t go in for casual sex. Before Carthage, he’d thought maybe she’d just been telling him that to let him down easy, but no, she really felt that way. She didn’t have casual sex. Still, on a couple of occasions now, there’d been the possibility of a series of wild nights that had gotten shut down due to outside influences. She was willing. He was willing. Yet they couldn’t quite make it happen before someone or thing interrupted.

‘Talk in person’ she’d claimed to want. Hard to tell if that was girl code or not for ‘I want to sex you up’. He supposed Castiel could have stopped by to see her and that she could want to discuss him….

Nah. This was like all those car problems she kept having. Jo just wanted to see him and was using Cas as an excuse.

Smug in that conclusion and in the timing (after all, wasn’t Christmas all about new beginnings?), he was therefore surprised when she arrived and wanted to discuss Castiel, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that it was Christmas. Didn’t women live for the gift exchange holidays and things?

~~~~~~~~~~

The trail’s end was up ahead and Castiel materialized with caution, certain he was going to finally be face-to-face with Uzziel and receive answers to his continuing questions.

Instead, he found a body on the ground, the pattern of wings burned into the ground.

It wasn’t Uzziel. Nor was it any of Castiel’s sometime allies. That left either a deserter or one of Raphael’s soldiers.

Why had he been murdered? The scent of death was still fresh. It had happened within the past few minutes. If Cas had been a moment sooner, he would have witnessed it and maybe known for certain why Uzziel was leaving a blatant trail behind to follow. Had he become that sloppy? Or was he that rushed now with the battles escalating? What was his objective?

Castiel found no answers in the sight of the body in the middle of the street or in the surrounding area. Determination filled him. He’d just have to stop following a trail and find Uzziel in a more straightforward way. He began to gather the things he needed until he had all but one ingredient.

Dean disliked being a blood donor for anything, so maybe…. Castiel made up his mind.

He’d go to Jo for it this time.

~~~~~~~~~~

The motel Dean and Sam had chosen was easy to find and Jo parked beside the Impala. As she’d driven, she’d thought on what she wanted to say and wasn’t sure at all how to broach the subject of Castiel’s health. Even when she was in the room, she didn’t know how to begin, finally saying, “Have you two seen Castiel lately? I mean really seen him?”

Sam paused in putting on his coat. “He hasn’t been by for awhile. Not since the dummy. Why?”

“Well….” She sat on the couch, hands on her knees. “He doesn’t look very good. He’s all…I don’t know…frazzled.”

Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the dresser. “He’s fighting a losing battle against Raphael. That gives him cause to be a little off.”

“No, this is more than that, Dean. It’s like he’s losing hope of making any progress at all. He slumped in a chair, for crying out loud! Even that night before Carthage he didn’t slump in that chair.” She shrugged. “I don’t know,” Jo repeated, standing back up and crossing her arms like Dean and moving towards him. “I’m worried about him.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded and finished putting on his coat, then zipped it up. “Next time he shows up, we’ll talk to him about it. Though there’s not much we can do to help him, Jo.” He jerked a thumb towards the door. “I’ll go get some pizza and whiskey, maybe a few other things. Be back in a bit.”

She felt better knowing they’d at least look closer at Castiel when they saw him next. “Okay. Could you pick up one that’s a quarter Hawaiian?”

“Yeah, sure.” He left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Dean cleared his throat. “You came all this way to talk about Cas?”

“Not completely,” she admitted. “As I was talking to him, I realized there’s a lot I don’t know about him. Or about angels at all. It feels strange, you know? Talking to an angel.”

“He’s surprisingly human in some ways. When Sam gets back, we can give you the low-down on him if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

He uncrossed his arms, both hands reaching back behind him. One returned to the front with a package. It was a small, square present, wrapped in Christmas paper with a huge red bow on the top.

“What’s this?” Jo took it from him.

“A present.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” she protested, suddenly figuring out just what day it was. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She’d managed to avoid thinking about Christmas. Her mom had always made a big deal over it wherever they were. She remembered going to everything from Christmas plays at high schools and amateur theater groups, to madrigal dinners and special presentations of ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ at a theater that served concessions at one dollar an item.

He held a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “I’ve got a terrific idea for a gift.”

With a smile, Jo raised up and gave him a kiss that left her breathless and obviously warmed him more than a little, as he put the mistletoe down and reached for her, intention in his eyes and posture. Quickly, she sidestepped and took the present to the couch. He followed her, sitting close beside her as she opened it.

Three cd’s spilled out. The greatest hits of Survivor, Journey, and REO Speedwagon.

Her smile turned into a grin. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” Dean seemed genuinely puzzled as to why he wouldn’t remember.

“I’ll bet you were so embarrassed to buy these.”

“I can never show my face in that store again,” he said in a solemn tone.

She hugged him, pressing her face into his neck for a brief moment before drawing back. “Thank you, Dean. I love them.” She looked around the motel room, understanding now why Sam had beat a hasty retreat. He was always doing things like that whenever she was with them; going out and leaving her alone with Dean. Not to mention that he was always out far longer than each task he’d assigned himself should last. Drawing her legs up, she curled them beside her and turned a little, facing him. “I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts. I would have bought you two something --”

“No, no, I know. I just thought….” His hand touched her knee twice before resting on it and squeezing gently. “I thought you’d like those and with it Christmas and all…. Ellen once mentioned that you always exchanged gifts….” He ducked his head.

Jo set her hand on his. “That’s a sweet thought.”

“Yeah, well….” Turning his head, he stared at her, that glimmer of intent returning. His free hand raised, fingers caressing her cheek. Slowly, he leaned forward, giving her ample time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. The kiss was soft at first, quickly growing in heat and intensity. His hands moved, maneuvering her against him and somehow, she found herself on her back. Her shirt went flying, then his, soon followed by her bra. His hands were reaching for the button on her jeans when a husky voice came from across the room.

“I need your assistance.” Glass clinked.

Jo managed to gulp back her startled scream at Castiel’s sudden, untimely appearance, snatching Dean’s t-shirt to her since her own was somewhere on the floor.

“Cas!” Dean sat back. “What the hell?”

“Dean?” His back straightened and Jo thought his head had a puzzled tilt to it as he turned from whatever he was doing at the table. Was he surprised at Dean’s presence? It certainly looked that way to her. “Jo, I need your assistance,” he repeated in a slight irritated tone.

“I’m half naked,” she replied. “Knocking, Castiel, remember? We talked about knocking.”

He blinked, gaze lowering to her chest and Dean’s shirt. “Oh. We did.” He seemed to realize he’d interrupted something then, his eyes widening, gaze flicking along her, then Dean. One brow twitched, his glance raising to where Jo’s bra was draped across the lampshade. “I see.” He turned back to the table. “I shall…leave for a moment so you may dress.” The way he said the words made it clear he thought it silly for him to have to leave, but he’d do it anyway. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

Dean snorted. “You ever get the feeling the world is conspiring against us?”

“All the time.” Having noticed earlier how fast a moment was in Castiel time, Jo hurried to put her clothes back on before he reappeared.

“Later, right?” Dean smoothed her shirt across her hips before snatching his own shirt up and tugging it on.

“Yeah.” Somehow, she knew that later was going to be very much later, as in ‘not this trip’. Jo stepped to the table to see what Castiel had been doing. There was a bowl on the table and a jar beside it.

Castiel was back then, with a startled Sam who held a pizza box and a big paper sack.

Jo gasped as Castiel grasped her arm and pulled it towards him, then hissed as he drew a knife across her skin. “Ouch!” She tried to pull back, but he held her arm over the bowl until blood dripped into it before releasing her.

“Can you ask before bleeding one of us,” Dean demanded, stepping closer.

Castiel slanted an impatient frown in his direction. “I needed the human blood and thought it best to ask forgiveness than argue. I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I didn’t choose you for it this time.” Stretching his hand back out, and without stopping what he was doing, he touched her arm, the thin wound healing without a mark. “Forgive me, Jo?”

“Sure, just ask next time.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Dean told her, “or he’ll just keep pulling that shit.”

Castiel’s body stiffened and the look he gave Dean indicated to Jo that he had a million things he was wanting to say, none of them complimentary. His lips tightened into a thin line and he bent his head once more without saying any of them.

“What are you doing?” Sam set the pizza and bag down.

“Trying to locate Uzziel. He left me a trail, but all I found was a dead angel that wasn’t him at the end.” His voice crooned low, words that made no sense to Jo. After a moments, he made a growl of frustration and slammed a fist onto the table. “Why is he doing this?” Castiel looked like he was on the verge of a complete meltdown, barely holding himself together, worse than when she’d seen him only a day earlier.

“Doing what? Who’s Uzziel?” Dean edged in front of Jo, almost like he was protecting her from any more bloodletting Castiel might have in mind to do.

“One of Raphael’s generals.” Castiel turned away from the table. “I thought I’d mentioned him to you before. He’s masked himself and I can’t find him. All I get are questions that I can’t answer and they’re all so…so…” He drew in a deep breath. It was a visible effort to calm himself that didn’t look to be working. “May I have a beer?”

“A…beer?” Sam turned a questioning glance to Dean, who shrugged, then went to the cooler, took one out and brought it back. “Here. Enjoy.”

He drank it in several long swallows, head tipping back until he was done. “Thank you.” He handed the bottle back. “I feel no better.” Slowly, his gaze raised to the ceiling. Jo would almost swear she saw tears shining there. “I have to go. They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Raphael’s soldiers.” He was gone again before they could say anything, replaced by four angels who stared at each of them one by one before disappearing themselves.

Jo found her hands were shaking. “He barely got out of here.”

“It’s not the first time,” Dean said and reached for the sack Sam had brought. He drew out a large bottle of whiskey. “What’s say we break out the good stuff and drink a few to his success in avoiding them?”

Her visit had suddenly gotten less cheery.