Title: Lost and Found

Chapter: 19

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen and Bobby had gone to bed. Gwen, Sam, Dean, and Jo remained up, enjoying a last night before they all headed out in the morning for new jobs.

Gwen swirled the remains of her vodka collins in her glass. Jo made a kick-ass drink, the best, strongest vodka collins Gwen had ever had and Gwen thought she might be a little tipsy at present. She surveyed the snacks on the table. The bean dip Ellen had made was nearly gone, as was the cake, but there was still a package of salt and vinegar chips and cheese popcorn. They’d gone through most of what they’d bought, Jo covertly adding a few things to Bobby’s cupboards to make up for staying for a week. “I have an idea.”

“Do tell, Supergirl.” Dean linked his fingers through Jo’s. He’d changed quite a bit since Gwen had first met him. He was growing more relaxed and less moody as time went on. Sam had told her that Dean was more like he’d been at twenty-four than he’d been in years. Gwen supposed that was a good thing. Sam hadn’t really explained.

“Well, since we plan on keeping in touch regularly anyway, why not set up a meet-up about once every other month or so? We’ll pick a date and come up with a place closer to that date?” She scooped some dip up and poured the dregs of the tortilla bag onto her plate. “It’ll give us all a chance to wind down on a regular basis, exchange --”

“Stories, tips….” Sam interrupted her with a twinkle in his eye, snatching the package of salt and vinegar chips and reaching into it.

“Exactly.” His expression indicated that he remembered that conversation they’d had in February. She gestured at Jo and Dean. “You could count on seeing each other and Ellen could get her shoulder rub fix.”

“Worth a try,” Dean said, his gaze turning to Jo, whose head rested on his shoulder. She’d grown quiet as the hours had passed, half dozing against him, her legs curled up to the side.

Without opening her eyes, she replied in a sleepy voice, “Sounds good to me.”

Gwen smiled. “Great. How about we plan to meet about May, then July --”

“How about April, May, June, July….” She yawned so wide it made Gwen’s jaw ache.

“That’s monthly, Jo,” she pointed out.

“And?”

“Every six weeks,” Dean suggested, loosing his hand from Jo’s and standing up. “Look, let’s finalize it as we travel because, as you said, we’re communicating regularly anyway.” He stood, then bent and grabbed Jo’s hands. “Come on, bedtime. You’re falling asleep.” He tugged her up and they were upstairs in a minute, leaving Sam and Gwen alone to clean up.

Sam crumpled the chip bag. “I think we can throw out the rest of this. The cake is stale, the bean dip won’t keep another day --”

“Just don’t touch Jo’s cheese popcorn.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He sat forward. “So, since it’s up to you and me in the planning department, what’s say we meet the first week of May, then mid-June, and the end of August and see how that goes?”

“What about Jo’s birthday?”

Sam thought a moment. “Dean’ll want to be with her for it and Ellen won’t miss it….”

“No, but she’ll be okay with celebrating early if Dean makes plans for something special.”

“Good point. It’s only about ten days away though.”

“So we split the jobs you found in Arkansas instead of you two working all of them.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Gwen drank the last of her drink and set the glass down. “Okay. I’d better head up myself.”

“Go on. I’ll take care of this.”

She left him cleaning and got ready for bed. Tomorrow was the start of a new partnership and Gwen was looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The scene was deliciously bloody and gory. There was potential in this, Jo could see it.

She flipped open her i.d. case and held it up. “Joanna Scully, FBI, and this is my partner, Gwen Mulder.”

Gwen held up her own case.

They’d caught wind of this body and since it sounded like something maybe up in their alley, they thought they’d check it out on their way to their destination. She and Gwen were on their own while Ellen recovered from a sprained shoulder. That left shoulder had been giving her trouble for awhile and she’d aggravated it enough on that last job that she’d gone in to the local clinic about it. She was currently at Bobby’s for a few days, supposedly resting, but probably not.

“Scully and Mulder? Really?” The officer tried not to smile and failed. “Big fans of the show are you? Hey…isn’t Mulder supposed to be a guy?”

Jo and Gwen exchanged an un-amused stare, as though heartily sick of comments of that sort, and Jo replied, “Believe me, we’ve heard all of the jokes, so if we could get down to business, please? We have a case to solve.”

The officer looked again at their i.d.’s. “I’ll need to call in and verify.”

Gwen gave him a card Bobby’d made up that looked official and had his number on it.

Jo could imagine the look on Bobby’s face when this guy called and smirked as she turned away from the officer. “Better be a one-off, I’d say,” she said low to Gwen.

“Definitely,” Gwen replied, remaining still with an air of infinite patience, though Jo knew Gwen was as eager as she was to get a look at the scene. “We’ll go back to the other ones later.”

It didn’t take long before that amused attitude the officer had turned to something a bit more respectful.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Willis, FBI.”

“I’ve got agents Joanna Scully and Gwen Mulder here --”

Bobby rolled his eyes and concluded the call in his usual manner, managing not to snicker, before grimacing at Ellen. “You couldn’t talk them out of Mulder and Scully?”

“There was an X-Files marathon on and how could I protest when they made me Ellen Skinner?”

“Really, Ellen?”

She shrugged a single brow. “Skinner was a great character and that actor, Mitch something or other, was pretty sexy.”

“Change theirs at least. I can barely call them some of my best agents with a straight face.”

“You do realize Jo and Gwen are just as creative as Dean and Sam?”

“I expect it, but I’d prefer something a little less tongue-in-cheek and in-your-face.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t promise anything.” She set down several cards. “Rummy.”

“Balls,” Bobby muttered and reached for the phone as it rang again. “Willis, FBI.” Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo were well-matched in creativity in his opinion. Not only that, but both teams were busy at present posing as FBI in opposite areas of the U.S.. Dean’s latest identity creations were even more whimsical than usual. Bobby was actually glad to notice that, because for awhile, Dean’s creativity had gone right out the window. He appeared to be bouncing back with a vengeance, which could be a good or bad thing depending on how one looked at it. “If Agents Mercury and May say they need --” After a minute of arguing, he hung up.

Ellen snickered as she shuffled the cards and dealt. “Moving across the ocean for further inspiration now, are they?”

“They’ve always crossed back and forth in references.”

“Which one was Mercury?”

“Dean stuck Sam with that one.”

She laughed. “That sounds like Dean.” Ellen glanced up at him. “So…. Going to tell me about those cruise brochures on your desk?”

“I’m considering a vacation. A long one.” He wasn’t about to elaborate and jinx it. Suffice it to say, he planned on having company on that vacation.

“Anyone I know,” Ellen inquired in a sly tone.

“Maybe.” He’d narrowed down the ones he was interested in and as soon as Jo and Gwen got back to pick up Ellen later in the week, he was going to approach Jodie about a joint vacation. Nothing romantic, just friends. They were friends, right? They got along and as time had passed, he’d realized she was just as lonely as he was. Why not go together and enjoy each other’s company?

“What’s tickling your fancy?”

“Either Alaska or Jamaica. Depends on when I decide to go. I may hit you up to housesit if you wouldn’t mind, answer the phones with something official sounding about how Willis, Castle, or Lovell is on vacation, maybe do a spot of research for a couple guys now and then….”

Ellen smiled. “I think I can handle the pressure, Bobby. Can’t be busier than the Roadhouse was on a Saturday night with fifteen thirsty hunters and various townies.”

His own smile was wolfish. “Oh, you think.”

“You want to bet?”

“Fifty says you’re tearing your hair out after two days of answering my phones and working my routine.”

“Say when, old man.”

“I’ll get back to you on that part.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel materialized in Dean and Sam’s motel room. Dean was staring at his reflection in the mirror. “Dean.” He turned and Cas blinked. “You’re injured. Where’s Sam?” His step closer to look at the injury made Dean step back.

He touched the white strip on his nose. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “Getting pain pills.”

“Does Jo know you’re injured?”

Alarm flashed in his eyes and seemed to almost be magnified by the bruising around both eyes. “No.” Dean pointed a finger at him. “She’s not going to either. Don’t you tell her, Cas. She’ll worry.”

“You’re under a misconception if you believe she won’t notice your changed appearance when you meet several days from now in Texas.”

“I’ll hide it.”

“How?”

“I’ll…. I don’t know how, but I will.”

“I could heal it for you.” Once, he would have simply reached out and done it, but one recent development had been the agreement that healing wouldn’t be automatic. There had to be a discussion of some sort first.

The agreement had come about when Ellen pointed out that they were all a little too dependant on Castiel’s healing abilities. Sam was more blunt, saying they were taking advantage of Cas. After consideration of that as the argument raged around him, Castiel had concluded that there was an over-dependence on his abilities -- by Dean and Sam at least. Ellen rarely asked for anything and Castiel couldn’t recall Jo or Gwen asking ever. Dean had been reluctant to give up that healing, yet when Sam pressed him, he’d agreed to the restrictions. Giving it up scared the hell out of Dean. To him, the loss of that automatic healing meant more pain for himself and those he cared for.

“Yes.”

Cas reached out.

“No.

He pulled his hand back. After several minutes of that routine, he sighed. “Dean, it’s your decision. You must decide for yourself whether or not to accept the consequences of this injury.”

A key sounded in the lock and just as Dean accepted, Sam walked in.

“Cas, no! You’re not healing him.” He set the bag he carried on the table and approached them.

“My decision, Sammy, not yours. Lay those healing hands on me, Cas.”

“Dean,” Sam said in a warning tone, “we agreed to stop taking advantage of Cas, remember? Life changes in small steps.”

“He offered.”

“I did offer,” Castiel clarified for him.

“Deal with the pain, Dean.”

“You had a broken nose, Sam? Come on! It’s gonna be all bumpy now. I’m disfigured.”

“If you’d quit touching it, it’ll heal fine.”

Sensing something deeper going on with that strange bit of vanity, Castiel did a forbidden foray into Dean’s mind to discover the truth of the matter. After a moment, he thought he understood.

Human attraction was in part a physical thing. Dean was worried that the resulting change in the shape of his nose was going to change how Jo saw him. He feared she wouldn’t find him attractive. Human vanity reared up in the oddest of times, he reflected with a shake of his head. Dean had never worried about that before in any of his other injuries, but now he did.

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I’m making an executive decision.” He sent a blast of healing power into his body that straightened his nose and healed most of the damage. He still had the black eyes, but the nose was nearly healed. There’d be no sign of the injury later and he’d not need to worry about disfigurement.

“Cas.” Sam sighed in exasperation. “We can’t wean off of your powers if you keep doing it anyway.”

“Don’t start, Sam. Consider it a gift, though to be honest,” he looked at Dean, “I believe Jo would be attracted to you no matter what the shape of your nose.”

“Wait,” Sam held up a hand. “You were worried Jo would dump you over this?”

“No,” Dean denied, pulling the tape from his nose and peering in the mirror again. “Good, good, Cas. Nice job. Looks better than before….”

“Dean?” Sam’s lips tightened in annoyance.

“Not answering that question, Sammy.” He turned from the mirror, much more cheerful now. “Executive decision? Where’d you learn that phrase?”

“Uzziel.”

“Right.”

With a disgusted snort, Sam put the bag he’d brought into his bag. “He’s right, you know. Jo wouldn’t be that shallow.”

“Did I ask,” Dean retorted.

“Telling you anyway.” He moved to the table and sat down, legs stretched out and arms crossed. “How go the changes in heaven?

Castiel leaned against the dresser. “Slow. I’ve spoken to roughly half of the departments, which is quite an accomplishment for approximately three earth months. I’ve learned of several jobs I never knew existed and discovered that vessel assignments is quite the drawn-out task, not to mention that the human heaven gate guard training program needs an upgrade, the library needs more workers, and the Book of Life scribes have been on strike for nearly a century. The clerk currently in the position of making entries claims to have developed the angelic version of carpal tunnel syndrome and wishes some sort of compensation for the work-related injury. They all want to know what I plan to do about each matter.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. But they’re cooperating and the task isn’t as unpleasant as it sounds, merely…tedious. And I’ve had a few speeches I’ve had to give and a couple of what you call ‘press conferences’ to inform all of heaven of various automatic changes immediately implemented.”

“You’ve been giving speeches?” Dean snorted and pulled a handful of change from his pocket.

“I’ve had something of a secretary and speechwriter with me most of the time.”

“You running for office up there?” Having counted out a bunch of coins, Dean returned the rest to his pocket.

Sam shifted in his chair. “What’s Uzziel doing while you’re doing all of that?”

“Staying out of my way. He actually created my itinerary. He has a…side project he’s been working on.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean dropped onto one bed and stretched out, feeding quarters into a slot. In a minute, the bed was making a noise and he was smiling blissfully. “Mmmm….”

“Want us to leave you alone,” Sam asked with a quirk of a brow.

“Maybe later. Cas, what exactly is Uzziel’s side project?”

“I wish I knew. He’s being secretive.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I don’t believe it’s any reason to be alarmed --”

“No, I mean ‘uh-oh I don’t have anymore quarters’.” He turned his head, gesturing with one hand. “Where’s the laundry roll, Sam?”

“You’re not taking the laundry quarters to keep the magic fingers going.”

“Not when you’re looking I’m not,” he muttered.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

He could tell by Dean’s thoughts on the subject of Jo, that the relationship was going well. Not only that, but Dean and Sam had achieved something of their original stride together. He stood up straight. “I should be going.”

“Why don’t you stop by next week?” The bed stopped making noises and Dean sighed, disappointment on his face. “I’m sure Ellen, Jo, and Gwen wouldn’t mind seeing you.”

“I’ll consider it. Uzziel has been making noises however, about showing me the plans he’s drawn up. I may be busy with that, but I’ll try to attend.”

Castiel returned to his list of departments and the angel Mariel, his assistant.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang. Bobby tried to ignore it. He’d barely gotten through his ‘have some coffeecake and coffee’ spiel with Jodie before the blasted thing was screeching again.

There was the hint of a smile on her lips. “Go ahead. I’m off duty.”

He answered. “Willis, FBI.” When the call was done, he returned to the counter to bring over the coffeecake. “Can you think of a cultural reference, probably a movie, with the names DeWitt and Zuckerman?”

“Which of your…friends…was it this time?”

“Jo and Gwen. They’re calling themselves Jo DeWitt and Gwen Zuckerman now. I know those last names from something.”

Jodie reached for the cake, dishing up a hearty slice. “I shouldn’t admit this, but I can tell you that one right off. It’s from one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies.”

“Enlighten me.” He dished up a piece of cake for himself.

“Feds. It had Rebecca de Mornay in it.”

Bobby’s sigh was heavy and with the mention of that actress, he suddenly placed the names. DeWitt was the blond one, played by de Mornay and Zuckerman was dark haired, portrayed by…. He couldn’t think of the name. Mary something? “I told her less tongue-in-cheek.” He supposed he should be thankful they weren’t lifting from current tv and movies.

She laughed. “It’s not too recognizable. I doubt many would know it.”

“Except you.”

“Except me,” she agreed. “Good cake.”

“Entemann’s.”

“Yeah, I saw the box. Still good.” Jodie sipped at her coffee. “What’s up, Bobby?”

He decided it was better to stop beating around the bush and just get right to it. “You said you got something like three weeks of vacation and PT built up that you have to take.”

“Yes? I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with myself for that long.”

“Well…..” He grabbed a folder and set it over beside her on the table. “I was thinking. I need some time off myself and I mean actual time off. A vacation. I haven’t taken a real vacation in a long time. We could go somewhere together.”

Her lips parted and he hurried on.

“Not like together together, more like friends pooling resources. We get along and it’d be nice to have someone --”

“Sure.”

“-- to see the sights with…. Did you say ‘sure’?”

“I did. Where’d you have in mind and when?” She opened the envelope. “A cruise?”

“No bathing suits required if you don’t want.”

“You want to go on a nudist cruise for a friends vacation?”

“No! I didn’t mean --” He stopped and took a long look at her expression. “You’re joking, ain’t you?”

“Sure am.” Jodie grinned.

“I’m surrounded by comedians.” Reaching across, he spread the brochures out. “This Alaskan water-air tour looks good. Lots of things to do.”

“Let me check on when I can take the time and we can go over these in-depth.”

“Right. Sounds like a plan then.”

Three days later, he had a set date for vacation: mid-August to early September. Bobby began planning, surprised at how much he enjoyed the process. Either Jodie was at his place two to three times a week, or he was at hers, going over details, planning excursions, and making sure they had all of the travel plans decided.

He called Ellen and arranged for her to housesit for three weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

With their last job done (a hag that had been particularly nasty to deal with), Sam tracked down a huge local pawn shop and scoped it out while Dean was sleeping all morning. The shop was blessedly air-conditioned, a good thing on this hot late-June day. Sam browsed, starting at the back of the store and working his way forward. Dean would be out for hours and he was tired of doing research.

He reached the jewelry case and paused, glancing over the offerings. When he saw something he thought would interest Dean, and Jo in a roundabout way, he knew he’d be bringing Dean back later that day.

Sam returned to their motel and, after lunch, suggested they stop at the pawn shop and do some shopping. Dean agreed.

Sam meandered over to the display case that held watches and jewelry, as though he was browsing. “You see this case, Dean?”

He walked over. “I have a watch already.”

“No,” he pointed, “I mean this one. The jewelry. Weren’t you looking for something to get for Jo when your six-month rolls around in August?”

“I’ve got two months.” Dean leaned over the case, studying the jewelry on display. Necklaces, bracelets, watches, rings. Sam knew what Dean’s eyes would be drawn to.

The only thing in the case that Jo would like was an engagement ring-wedding band set. The rest of the jewelry was too gaudy or just not her style.

It wasn’t that Sam was going to push Dean to buy anything, he simply thought it was time Dean thought a little harder on the future. He saw Dean’s gaze slide to that set over and over, eyes narrowing, lips pursing, and Sam slapped him on the back. “I’m going over to the cd’s.”

As he looked at the titles, he kept a covert eye on Dean, smiling a little when he bought something and slipped the package into his pocket.

“Hey, Sammy, I’m going out to the car.”

“Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.” Sam waited and when he passed by the case on his way out, he glanced at the spot where that set had been. The spot was empty. He smiled to himself.

Dean had bought the ring and band set.

~~~~~~~~~~

In every town they stayed awhile in, Dean shopped the pawn shops, looking for the perfect piece of jewelry to give to Jo. He thought a nice necklace or something, but was undecided. Nothing had looked right and he wanted to get her quality, not some cheap piece of crap that’d turn her skin green. He joined Sam at the case, expecting the same big, fat nothing he’d found elsewhere. To his surprise, he saw the perfect thing for her.

The ring was right for her, delicate, not flashy. A single diamond, flanked by a trio of chips on either side. She’d like it -- and on the plus side, she could use it as a weapon if need be because the main diamond stuck out. He could even picture it on her finger. It was classy, nice.

The problem? It was an engagement ring and had a matching wedding band. No way he could claim it was a promise ring or whatever that silly phrase was. It was obviously an engagement ring.

Sam went to look at cd’s and Dean asked to see the set. He touched a finger to the diamond on the ring. It was more than he’d planned to spend, but he knew she’d like it. No, she’d love it. Should he buy it? He hadn’t really thought about marriage…. Was it too soon? It wasn’t like they’d been rushing anything.

Dean bought the set on impulse. He knew it was the right thing to do, felt it deep inside on a soul level. Those rings were Jo’s and could only ever be hers. Once it was bought and he was outside in the car, he took it out of the bag and opened the box, studying it in the afternoon sunlight. Beautiful. An image of them on her hand flashed in his mind and he smiled a little, a warm sensation spreading through his chest. He’d have to get a sealable little envelope for it and keep it in his wallet until he found the right time to give it to her. Maybe it’d be on their sixth month, maybe later.

He tucked the little box away and wondered if he’d know when to give it to her.

~~~~~~~~~~

The throne room had been redecorated.

Castiel took that in at a glance, then took a longer look to study it all. There were stations set up, angels directing other angels to different tables and, as he stood there, Uzziel’s secretary Jael shoved a large thick envelope at him and hurried away. With a sliver of misgiving, Castiel opened it and drew out the folded pamphlet on the top of a sheaf of papers. He held it up, reading.

‘Are you an angel with an affection for humanity? Do you wish you could share your fondness for humans with other angels? Then join the Angel Mentoring Program (AMP) and be a mentor to angels just discovering the worth of God’s humans. Be instrumental in shaping the messengers and ambassadors of the future!’

The message wasn’t exactly what Castiel had had in mind when he’d agreed to Uzziel’s statement that his supporters should mentor those angels relatively new to liking humanity. He’d pictured something more along the lines of a few lectures, not…this.

He flicked his glance to one station. Were those Mylar balloons?

He frowned, looking over the gathering of angels, both vesseled and in natural form, mingling together. A few carried packets like what Jael had given him or cups with liquid in them and…cookies? What was going on?

Over the months, some of his fellow angels had developed the odd habit of giggling and whispering to each other when he looked at them. He’d found that happening more and more since the war had ended and Uzziel had begun thrusting Castiel forward as the hero of the hour. There’d been a reason Uzziel had mentioned speechwriters. Cas hadn’t shared the fullness of that situation with Dean and Sam. That simple reason was that heaven needed a face to relate to in this new day and Castiel was prettier than Uzziel. Uzziel’s words, not his. It had been determined that Castiel was that spokesman, what Uzziel called a natural extension of his efforts during the war.

He’d been busy for weeks moving from one engagement to the next, giving speeches various angels had written for him and being the face of the new heaven. He’d gone to all of the departments one by one, meeting each department head, reassuring them, learning what each one did, and realizing that this task was far greater than he’d ever imagined.

He studied the brochure in his hands. A brochure. They’d actually printed a brochure with the heavenly presses and passed it out. Could that count as a good use of resources?

This is surreal, Castiel thought with a mild sense of horror. A part of him wondered what cultural reference Dean would use to describe this sense of everything being off-kilter, but since he didn’t know enough references, he couldn’t begin to guess.

The front of the brochure had a picture of him and not a very flattering one at that. He was standing between Dean and Sam, the Impala in the background. Someone more interested in computers than himself had obviously studied photo editing programs, yet not quite mastered the techniques, as the arms he had around the two men weren’t his own. How could he tell? For one, he’d never embraced them that way and two, the color on the sleeves of the coat didn’t match up. It obviously didn’t match up, the colors completely different.

He flipped open the brochure.

‘AMP mentors will guide angels through the vessel process, with full instruction on the courting and both long and short-term care of vessels. Mentors will stay with the new member during the entire process and through the first few assignments, giving advice and aid as needed.’

This was a disaster in the making. His frown deepened and he kept reading, noting that the next picture of him made him look like a half-wit.

‘There will be mandatory classes for new members immediately after acceptance into the program. The classes are designed to give a greater understanding of the human condition and will cover such basic things as hygiene, appearance, and strange human quirks that will help assimilation into human society.’

Assimilation into human society? His stomach seemed to turn over inside him. Oh yes, this could be very bad indeed.

“Well? What do you think?” Uzziel sauntered up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes indicating that he knew very well what Castiel thought of this development and was going to milk it for all it was worth. Come to find out, back in the day, Uzziel had been one of Gabriel’s buddies. Funny how Castiel hadn’t remembered that tidbit until recently. How had Raphael not killed him long ago?

He knew the answer to that, of course. Uzziel was a master on the battlefield. His mastery there outweighed his affiliation with Gabriel.

“Assimilation? You want to send them down to live among the humans?”

“How better to really learn about them? We’ve been insulated, Castiel. Think of all the things you learned with the Winchester brothers and their friends. Would you deny your brethren that same experience?”

“It’ll hardly be the same as they won’t be bleeding out power from falling through disobedience.”

Uzziel waved a hand like it was a trivial difference. “Those who ran out, like Balthazar, have had a wealth of experiences and the ones who’ve returned contrite are willing to teach the basic courses. I’m even going to spend some time downstairs myself.”

Cas would believe that when he saw it. “Why am I here today?”

“Just….stand right there and be patient. I’ll be right back. I’ve got a final couple things to look over and then I’ll go through the packet with you before we start.”

He had a very bad feeling about this.