Title: Lost and Found
Chapter: 29
Notes: Semi-quote from ‘Miss Congeniality’ in this chapter, adapted to the scene.
~~~~~~~~~~
Gwen was getting dressed after an early morning run and shower, when Jo texted her.
‘I need to come in the room.’
‘So come in.’
‘I don’t want to interrupt anything.’
Interrupt anything? What did Jo think was going on? ‘Like what?’
‘Is Sam awake? R U decent?’
‘Sam’s not here.’
“WTH?????’
She heard the key in the lock and the door opened.
“Where is he,” Jo demanded, stepping inside and letting the door slam shut.
“Presumably either in his room or out having an early breakfast.” She pulled on a hoodie over her t-shirt. “Did you come here just to check if we were in the same bed?”
“No.” Jo made a face at her, then crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe. What do you mean ‘his room’? Dean said --”
“He went and got his own room last night. You two didn’t realize he’d been doing that?”
“Obviously not. Why?”
“Sam’s playing hard to get. He wants to take things slow and if the kisses he laid on me last night are anything like the rest of the ride, I’m willing to let it build for maximum enjoyment.”
“Oh.” She blinked, smiling a little. “Oh. I see. Well, I really did need to come in here. I left my makeup bag in here somewhere….” She looked around, finally plucking the bag from the floor by the head of the bed she’d initially chosen. Opening it, Jo removed a pink packet and took one pill. “There. You ready for breakfast?”
“Dean’s awake? It’s not even seven-thirty yet.”
“He’s starving. He ate snacks in the room already, claims he’s getting fueled up for the big hunt, practically chomping at the bit to get at whatever is working the town. I told him he’s not a hobbit and doesn’t need a second breakfast, but you’d think I was trying to starve him by saying that. He wants to try the place down the street.”
Gwen put on her shoes and grabbed her coat. “Are we doing the file overview at the restaurant or back in the guys’ room?”
“I know nothing. For all I know we’re skywriting it for the whole town to see.”
They walked fast to the restaurant, arriving as Dean did.
He had a folder under one arm. His stare was puzzled and curious as they waited for the hostess to seat them. “Where’s Sam?”
“Not there,” Jo told him. “Call him and tell him we’re here.”
“Bad date last night,” he asked, with a raised brow in Gwen’s direction.
“No.” Gwen didn’t elaborate, which she knew was going to drive him crazy.
“And….?”
She smiled.
Dean scowled. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m tons of fun, Dean, but I’m not sharing.”
He raised a hand, finger pointing, and opened his mouth only to be distracted by the hostess asking how many in their party. “Four. Booth is great. Thanks.” When they’d sat and had menus and coffee and called Sam, he cleared his throat. “Just tell me if you had a fun time.”
“If Jo wants to tell you what I told her, she can.”
His gaze transferred to Jo, who smiled a sweet smile and didn’t say a word. “Et tu, Brute,” he said.
Gwen opened her menu, looking at it until Dean lost interest in trying to pry details from her and headed off to the restroom.
“It was a good date, right,” Jo asked.
“It was an excellent date.”
Jo stirred her coffee. “I’m glad. You were nervous last night.”
Gwen glanced to the back of the restaurant. “You two talk about arrangements yet?”
She groaned. “Change topic. I’m not ready to settle in one place and nothing short of drastic will make me. I like traveling, Gwen. It’s freedom, you know? Seeing the world.”
“You can still do that with a home base.” She didn’t understand the aversion to it. Thought out well, it was a terrific plan. “I traveled quite a bit when I was still at the compound working for family.”
Jo’s back was straightening and shoulders tensing, a sure sign she was losing her good mood for the day and Gwen dropped the subject. Some day, hopefully soon, they’d all have a long talk about it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sam stepped into the restaurant and paused, looking for the others. The hostess approached him, but he smiled and motioned at the table where Jo and Gwen were. “I see my party, thanks.” He slid into the booth across from Gwen and Jo. Gwen looked pleased to see him, a small smile of greeting on her lips. “Hey.” He lifted his chin a bit with the word.
She responded in kind. “Hey.”
He slid his gaze to Jo, whose grin was pleased and gaze knowing.
“Hey,” she said, drawing out the word.
“Hey.” He frowned a fraction. It was far too early for Gwen and Jo to have had a talk about the date last night. Wasn’t it? Though maybe not. Jo had that expression that indicated she had a good idea what had and hadn’t transpired the night before.
Dean came to the table. “Hey, I --”
“Hey,” all three of them replied in unison.
Dean blinked. “That was a tad Stepford creepy. I, uh, I had a thought on the case while I was in the library. Move over, Sammy.” He slid in beside Sam, raised his coffee cup and took a drink, then grimaced. “It’s cold.”
“Library,” Sam asked. Jo and Gwen both pointed to the back of the restaurant at the restroom sign. “Of course. Library. Should have known.”
Their server appeared, a pretty young woman with curly black hair so dark and true black in shade that it had a faint blue cast beneath the lights. She glanced over them and smiled wide at Dean. “What can I get for you?”
“Hi, uh, Molly.” He smiled that friendly charming smile Sam had seen him use often to charm young women and tapped his cup with a finger. “Would you be a sweetheart and pour this out for me? It’s gone ice cold. My fault, I know, but --”
“Oh, of course. I’m happy to help.” She was back in a minute, cup and pot in hand. “I just brought you a fresh cup.” She poured coffee for him. “Sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
“Cream?”
“No, this is good.”
“Great.”
Gwen and Jo slid their cups over to be refilled and Sam turned his cup over to have a cup himself.
Molly ignored the cups, focusing solely on Dean. She put the coffee pot on the table behind her and took a pad of paper and pencil from her apron pocket. “What can I get for you, honey?”
Across the table, Jo’s brows rose, an amused light settling in her eyes. “Yeah, honey, what can she get for you?”
He ordered and it was no real surprise to Sam when Molly appeared to forget the rest of them were there and began to walk off. Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, Molly?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“I think everyone else with me might like to order, too.”
Her embarrassed stutter was pure fakery. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry! It’s totally been one of those mornings!” Her reception to the rest of them was more than chilly however, and when she left, Jo touched her tongue to her upper lip a moment, then grinned.
Under her amused regard, Dean seemed to squirm a little. “What,” he asked.
“She thinks you’re gorgeous, she wants to kiss you,” she sing-songed.
“Oh, geez, Jo.”
“She wants to hug you, she wants to --”
“Okay, Gracie, enough.”
She laughed, then peered at the counter. “I’m going to go get a pot of coffee.” Upon returning and filling up their cups, she asked, “What was your thought, Dean?”
He scowled. “It’s gone now. I’ll remember it later.”
Molly wasn’t the one who brought their food, nor was she the one who left the check for them. Sam wondered vaguely where she’d gone, but as they got into discussing the case, he forgot all about her.
~~~~~~~~~~
Dean wasn’t tempted by the young waitress. He was a married man after all and he’d made a commitment to Jo. Still, a little flirting was okay. Flirting didn’t mean he was going to stray. It was simply a nice ego boost in the morning when he felt about fifty instead of his real age.
Jo spent the morning teasing him about it but finally sobered once they had the wall mostly ready to study. She shuddered, perusing the wall of clippings and information, her gaze settling on the plastic baggie tacked up. “Snakes. Gross.”
“You don’t like snakes?” Dean added another clipping. As usual, Sam had been thorough in his part of their investigation.
“Name me one woman who does. They’re all slithery and nasty.”
“I knew a stripper once who --”
“What do we know?” Gwen came to the wall, crossing her arms, eyes narrowed in concentration. He knew that expression well. It meant that, come hell or high water, they were going to figure it out if she had any say in the matter.
Sam got up from the table and joined them. “Six men have disappeared in the past two months. The last one had a life-sized statue of himself in his living room.”
“He apparently suffered a good supply of hubris,” Dean commented. “In each one except the last one, the houses and apartments had a weird stone dust stuff all over the place.” He pointed at the second clipping. “This guy’s wife came home from caring for her sick mother and said the dust wasn’t there when she’d left a week earlier. She seems more concerned that he left dust than that he left at all.”
Sam chuckled. “Which might have something to do with the lingerie she found under a couch cushion.” He indicated one picture. “It wasn’t hers. She’s a matronly, kind of heavy woman and this stuff was for a woman about a fourth her size.” He touched the clipping of the fifth victim. “This guy had a reputation for catting around on his wife.”
“Blondes, brunettes, redheads…he liked them all. Sometimes together.” Dean removed the baggie from the wall and held it up. “And this is the snakeskin Jo’s freaking out over.” He waved it playfully towards her just to see her lean back with a disgusted curl of her lip and make a squealing noise. It wasn’t often he saw her behave like that, so he milked it for all it was worth. Spiders, scorpions, mice, rats, and roaches she was fine with. Snakes? Not so much. He wondered what Gwen disliked that much. Bats? Maybe he’d have time for a few practical jokes later to figure it out. “It was all over the scenes, mixed in with the dust.”
“Dean, stop. Quit being a jerk.” Jo put her hands on her hips. “I’m guessing none of them have snakes for pets.”
“Bingo.” Dean put the baggie back up and slid an arm around her waist. “All forgiven?”
“Maybe.” She leaned against him. “If you don’t do it again.”
“But you’re so cute and girly about it. I can’t resist.”
“How are they all connected?” Gwen stepped close, gaze moving from clipping to clipping, item and picture to item and picture. “They are connected right? Figured that out yet?”
“All married and all liked some booty on the side.”
“Cheating dogs,” she replied.
“Exactly.” Sam crossed his arms. “I have a theory. It’s still coming together, but….”
“Do tell,” Dean sighed and stared at the picture of the lingerie then at the snakeskin. Something he’d seen was scratching at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t bring it into focus.
“First, we have cheating men, who disappear, leaving behind stone dust. We have snakeskin. Now, I’ve been doing some reading and this might seem like a stretch at first. What if what we’re dealing with….” Sam made that face he made when he thought it was a ridiculous theory and Dean was going to laugh. His brows drew down a fraction and his jaw tensed.
Gwen backed up to stand beside him. “Is a gorgon. Right? A gorgon. Greek myth. Um…Medusa, with hair that’s snakes, turns people to stone when they look in her eyes. It could fit.”
Sam’s gaze shifted to her and the tension left his jaw. Dean saw a spark of delight in his eyes. “It’d account for the stone dust --”
“The snakeskin.” She shrugged.
“See, my theory,” Sam gestured with his hands as he spoke, “is that she picks the men she thinks will cheat, waits until the wife is gone --”
“Gives them prime opportunity --”
He faced her. “And when they take that opportunity --”
“She gives them a blast of her snake hair to turn them to stone --” She turned to face him, head tilting back to look up at him.
Dean watched them talk it out, exchanging an amused glance with Jo.
“Then just blasts them--”
“Leaving behind only dust --”
“And no trace of the man.”
“Maybe.” Gwen uncrossed her arms, hands moving onto her hips. She drummed her fingers. “But why leave the last guy? Why not blast him too? What’s different about that scene?”
“Something interrupted her before she could blast him to pieces? Not the wife, she left him a couple months ago.”
“You two want us to leave you alone,” Dean asked.
Both heads swiveled in his direction and both were equally confused. “Huh?”
Jo disentangled herself from Dean’s embrace. “A gorgon. Are you two serious?”
“You have a better idea?” Sam shrugged. “Because if you do, I’d love to hear it.”
“Gorgons are a myth, guys.”
“But so are most of the things we hunt,” Dean pointed out. He wasn’t sold on the gorgon idea yet. “If the pagan gods are all real, I’m thinking a gorgon can be too.”
“Sure,” she agreed with a nod, “but if I remember my mythology correctly, gorgons are immortal. How do we stop her?”
“Beheading,” Sam said. “That’ll work -- if the myth is right.”
“In a later myth, only one gorgon wasn’t immortal,” Gwen said. “ Medusa. She was just a woman who fooled around with the wrong god in the wrong place and got cursed by a goddess. Men fooling around are disappearing, possibly being turned to stone. So maybe --”
“Maybe we’re not dealing with the actual immortal gorgons,” Sam broke in, “but with a woman cursed like Medusa was because she was caught getting it on with the wrong guy.”
Gwen continued the idea. “Doomed to seduce married men --”
“Then turn them to stone and kill them.” Sam finished the theory.
Dean waved a finger at them. “You know what I find totally cute? How you two are finishing each other’s freakin’ thoughts.” Dean shrugged. “Just sayin’.” He licked his lips. “Quite a theory. How do we catch her and stop her?”
“We could put out some bait. We’d need a married man….” Sam looked at Gwen, who looked at Jo, who looked at Sam. Slowly, they all looked at him.
He raised a brow, interpreting the sudden silence and pointed stares. “Wait, you want to use me as bait? What part of that’s a good idea?”
Sam nodded. “Well, you’re the married one. You’re the one she’d go for.”
“All of you suck. No.”
Two days and several interviews later, he was back in the other common denominator for all of the victims: they liked that restaurant they’d had breakfast at the other morning. All had been regulars and all had asked to sit in Molly’s section. Ahhh…the things they discovered upon further investigation.
“Sucks being bait,” he muttered to himself, then flagged the nearest server without looking to see who it was. “Hey, uh, sweetheart? Could I get a refill on the coffee please?”
“All by yourself tonight,” a flirtatious voice asked.
He glanced up. The woman from the other morning was beside him. Molly, a common thread among the missing men. He glanced at her nametag as if to refresh his memory and gave what he thought was the stupidest story. “Molly. Hi. Yeah, my wife’s being a real bitch tonight. Had to get out of the room for awhile.”
“That’s too bad. What’s she being that way over?” She leaned a hip against the table edge.
He continued, laying out the story Jo had come up with and Sam and Gwen had embellished, making it sound like he was prime material for some cheating behavior with a pretty young thing. She was sympathetic and it occurred to him that she could definitely be the one they were looking for. She was certainly the right size for the lingerie that had been found.
But if Sam and Gwen thought she was a real classical Greek Medusa gorgon, he thought they were wrong. He had no trouble meeting Molly’s gaze.
As he watched her covertly the next couple hours, she seemed to cool towards him, focusing instead on the middle aged man in the corner. Her glance returned again and again to the other woman in the restaurant -- the busty middle-aged hostess who looked like the younger woman’s mother.
Dean transferred his attention half onto her, studying her. Not bad for an older woman. Could possibly be wearing a wig.
He got out his phone and texted Sam.
‘So what r the odds we have a cursed woman using her hot daughter to draw men into a trap?’
“Explain.’
Dean tossed some bills onto the table and left, heading to the car where Sam waited. Getting in, he asked, “You think I can text my idea in under twenty minutes?”
“Just tell me why you think that.”
“Because. Snow White appears to be deferring to the Wicked Queen in there. Molly was all flirty with me until mama shook her head. Then she started focusing on the schmuck in the corner with the bad suit and comb over.”
“You think she’s the one we want, not the girl?”
“I think it’s a good bet.”
“You’re a flirt, Dean, and good at it. How did she know you wouldn’t cheat?”
“Maybe she has Spidey senses on it.”
Sam nodded. “That’d make sense. She’d need to know pretty quickly which potential victim was a sure thing, but why use the girl?” He peered through the window.
He looked at Sam. He couldn’t figure that one out? He’d spout off about Greek mythology and couldn’t think why an older woman would use a younger one to trap men? Really? Maybe his mind was half on something else, or rather someone else, like Gwen and the fact that he’d obviously not gotten anywhere with her. “Same reason you guys used me. Bait. I’m betting most men wouldn’t mind that little hottie all over them.” He glanced at the back seat. “Where’d Gwen and Jo go?”
“They’re keeping an eye on the back entrance.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“They’ve got guns.”
Actually, he was more concerned about civilians who might get in their way than about them, but it was good to know they’d taken guns with them. “I say we follow mama and daughter when they leave, see where they go.”
“Sure.” When the plan had been sent to Jo and Gwen and they settled down to wait, Sam cleared his throat. “You given anymore thought to my idea?”
Dean glanced towards the alley leading to the back of the restaurant. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think we’re ready to find a place and start doing the Campbell method.” Put like that, it sounded like a dirty sex practice. “I wouldn’t mind looking at a few places, thinking the idea over seriously, but Jo’s not ready for that.”
“Doesn’t have to be the Campbell method, Dean. I’ve got a few ideas on how to do things differently.”
“Drop it. It’s not happening anytime soon.”
Sam’s expression made it clear he wasn’t going to drop it. The subject was going to come up again and again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Data entry really wasn’t Ellen’s idea of a fun time. She spent more time sitting on her ass than she ever had in her life and she was afraid it was going to start showing. She’d taken care of the boxes that they’d first all looked through in between helping Bobby and getting settled in her small, one-bedroom rental house in town. Sam’s idea of spread sheets and word documents to begin with was a good one, but again, boring to put together. She even took files home to flag them with post-it notes. It was like having a real job without pay.
Ellen liked her little house. It was big enough for her needs and as for it being little…. It wasn’t that she wanted to discourage visitors, she simply wanted to discourage anyone from thinking they should stay the night -- meaning Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo. While she loved them all, she was serious about being herself again and she couldn’t do that with them hanging around all the time.
The storage unit had still been filled and she’d cleaned it out, taking a nice walk down memory lane as she unpacked back at the house. Ellen made the little house her new home.
She’d also consolidated various accounts she’d had and Jo likely hadn’t thought about. Her personal account. The Roadhouse business account, which was considerably lower than it had been due to property taxes having been taken out. She’d told the real estate agent the property was listed with to just lower it ridiculously and get it sold. It had helped that the agent had been an old friend of Bill’s who’d understood about why Ellen had been out of contact and told her he would’ve had it sold if she’d checked in now and then instead of going off grid for years at a time.
Then there’d been Jo’s college fund. The last of it anyway. She’d had it moved to a local bank and when Jo was at the house one day soon, she’d talk to her about it. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it should go to Jo now since it was obvious going back to college wasn’t going to happen.
She went into the bedroom upstairs at Bobby’s where the boxes were and opened the next one in line. A quick check of the file folders revealed none from the dates Sam and Gwen were looking for and she closed the lid, reaching for the next one. They’d claimed it wasn’t an urgent matter, yet Ellen knew Gwen was dying for real information on her family. Another glance showed the files in that one weren’t in the range either, but one folder she pulled out caught her eye.
On the folder was scrawled a message -- ‘Aaron: need the info on this ASAP. Can you get it?’.
Aaron? Thoughtful, Ellen opened the folder. Inside was a handwritten note on top of typed pages and yellowed newspaper clippings.
‘Neal: I put Mia on this for you. She may be new, but she has a good eye for details. I went through it and it looks solid to me. You’re good to go. Hope it helps. Aaron’
Aaron and Mia. Gwen’s possible birth parents. Ellen was certain they were. The picture they’d found was scarily like Gwen, or rather Gwen was scarily like Mia. She smiled a little to herself. She’d found out how the Campbell’s knew Aaron and Mia. Aaron was apparently a case spotter and researcher and it looked like Mia had gotten into it as well. Perhaps when she’d married him? Or were they married? Maybe Mia was her mother and Aaron wasn’t her father but an uncle. They’d all been making assumptions on who Aaron was.
Interesting. What had happened to them that left Gwen with people who’d tried to cover up her real identity? What could have been so terrible?
She rooted through the box a bit. It looked like there were several slim books mixed in as well. Should be good information. Ellen put the file on top of the box and carried the box downstairs. Even if that was all there was, Gwen would be happy to have a glimpse of Aaron’s handwriting, whoever he was to her in the end.
~~~~~~~~~~
The man in the bad suit with the comb-over was named Stan and screamed like a little girl when he saw snakes on his date’s head -- but he didn’t get turned into stone by the gorgon in the end, who was, actually, a gorgon. A real live gorgon, all Medusa when she went into her murdering phase.
Dean smiled a little to himself. Killing a gorgon was absolute coolest thing ever. How many people knew that myths were real…and got to kill them?
Sam clinked beer bottles with Dean. “Here’s to killing a gorgon.”
“Amen to that.”
Jo was taking a shower, attempting to wash off what she called ‘snake cooties’. She’d refused Dean’s help in washing, even though he assured her he was only thinking of her welfare. Over the sound of the tv and the water running, he could hear her still muttering.
Gwen was in the second room, also showering, but hers was to remove the gorgon blood she’d gotten all over her.
It had been quite a sight, Jo and Gwen wrestling the young gorgon just reaching maturity, while he and Sam wrestled the other one. The older woman had been the mature gorgon and Molly’s mentor, teaching her how to choose victims and work them. Fighting them had been touch and go for awhile, until it had been clear that in order to turn anyone to stone, the gorgons had to enthrall them first and these particular ones only enthralled men willing to cheat on their wives. Made things harder for the gorgons, but easier for Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo. Relatively, anyway. Gorgons had extra strength when pissed.
That missing man who’d been turned into a statue and not smashed to pieces? Not one of Molly’s approved targets, but since he was still a cheater, neither would release him from their magic. How they’d known Dean wouldn’t cheat? Something complicated with pheromones and intuition, which was sort of what Dean had thought to begin with.
Mentors. That word was popping up more than it ever had. First with Cas, then with this. It made sense in a way. Some of the monsters they hunted would need guidance on learning how to use their powers.
He wondered how that mentoring program in heaven was going. Were the angels behaving themselves any better than they ever had? Or was Castiel just as stressed as he’d been during the civil war?
The door to the outside opened, Gwen stepping in. Her hair was wet, and she snagged a beer from the cooler before joining them at the table. “Jo’s still in there?”
“She’s still a little freaked out by the snakes,” Sam explained.
“Understandable, since they were trying to bite her.”
The bathroom door opened. Steam rolled out. “I feel better.” Jo joined them, dressed in her pajamas. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Snakes are gross.”
They clinked beer bottles in agreement.
“Postmortem,” Gwen asked in a hopeful tone.
“Well, we can add a bunch of gorgon info to the database when we get back to South Dakota,” Dean suggested, tugging Jo down on his lap.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. We kicked gorgon ass.”
“Ass-kickery definitely commenced,” Gwen agreed with a nod.
“I’ve seen some ugly in my time, but those two with their human disguises dropped take the cake,” Dean went on, relinquishing his beer so Jo could have a drink.
“At least we didn’t have to use a mirror to avoid their eyes and kill them like in the myth.” Gwen tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I’ll drink to that.” Sam raised his bottle and they clinked them again.
Jo took a drink, then handed the bottle back to Dean so he could drink. “Bobby’s going to be thrilled. He was speculating awhile back about how much of myths are embellished stories of real beings -- seeing as how you’ve proven a few myths to be real.”
Dean wrapped an arm around her. “I must have missed that discussion.”
“You were all still asleep. He and mom were looking at one of the Campbell files and arguing. I think they’d been up all night.”
Slowly, the conversation took a turn towards their work arrangement and an acknowledgement of their dissatisfaction in it. Dean almost tensed when he realized Sam was leading them into the discussion he didn’t really want to have. While he really did want to have a place with Jo, his mind returned occasionally to the houses with Lisa and how that had been.
Bland. Tepid. Boring.
What if he and Jo slid into that routine?
“You know,” Gwen reached into the cooler and brought fresh beers to all of them, “I think you two are laboring under a misapprehension regarding what a home base entails.”
Jo got up and reached for the empty bottles. “Not this again.”
Gwen grasped Jo’s forearm. “It can wait, Jo, but this can’t. Sit. Please.”
With a roll of her eyes, Jo sat, crossing her legs and arms. “I’m sitting.”
“You’re both acting like setting up a home base means that you’ll never travel on jobs ever again.”
“It’s the farthest thing from the truth, really.” Sam took up the conversation, tapping the bottom of his bottle on the table a few times. “A home base is a place to rest where we can relax, like at Bobby’s, only if we make on for ourselves, it’s our rules, our methods, the kind of place we need. It’ll give us a place to organize before we head out.”
“It won’t be a Campbell compound. That’s not who you are. Find a location you know, you like, and have a good relationship with, like Sioux Falls.”
“Search for a property to fit our needs. Out of town, basement, X number of bedrooms….” Sam drained his almost empty bottle and reached for the fresh one. “None of us are twenty anymore and Dean, you’ve got a wife now. Don’t you want to see her more often?”
“Of course.” He’d gone over this with Jo already. She wanted to be out hunting and traveling.
“I’m not ready to play house.” Jo’s attitude towards the subject was bordering on outright hostile.
Frustration crossed Sam’s face. “No one’s asking you to.” It was the harshest tone Dean had ever heard him use with Jo. “Setting up a home base doesn’t mean playing house. It’s not about decorating and making a happy little home.”
Dean flinched.
“No one is suggesting you become Suzie Homemaker with an apron around your waist staying at the base while the big strong men go out and save the world from monsters. Geez. The monsters need saving from you.” His exasperated gaze slid to Gwen, and Dean saw her arm move, like she was placing a calming hand on his leg.
“If you two won’t take the initiative, then we will. I thought you might want to take lead on this, but I don’t mind getting it going.”
“Wait a minute.” Dean leaned over, crossing his arms and resting them on the table. “You’ve really been discussing this? You’ve got a plan of action already thought out?” He’d thought it was still a vague idea in Sam’s mind, not one fully formed and planned.
Sam nodded. “For awhile now. Gwen and I’ve talked about what worked for the Campbell’s and for others and what didn’t and how we can make the idea ours. I really think it’s the way to go, Dean, and I think Sioux Falls is the right place. We’d have both Bobby and Ellen close, but with our own lives. Ellen’s made it pretty clear she’s finally cut the apron strings to Jo and I doubt Bobby’d be too upset if we only come to visit not to camp out for days at a time. We have a friend in law enforcement -- always nice since we’re usually on the wrong side of that.” He shrugged. “Let’s face it, neither of you is happy with how things are now. Meeting up every couple weeks, working cold or at least very cool cases, not seeing each other to really develop that married bond. You’ve been pissy and we’re tired of it.”
“You’re giving us an ultimatum,” Jo asked.
“Calling it as I see it.”
“You’ll still travel, Jo.” Gwen watched her a minute before continuing. “You’ll have that freedom, but you’ll also have the freedom to stay home if you want and not go out on a job. You can relax in a way you can’t on the road 24-7 and frankly, we’ve tried this your way and Dean’s for months now. Sam and I went along with it. Don’t you think it’s fair that you try it our way since yours is making you unhappy?”
Jo pursed her lips, gaze raising to the ceiling, and when she spoke it was with fierce determination. “I’ll try it if Dean will -- but I won’t like looking at properties and I’m not picking up or cooking for anyone but myself and Dean.”
“That’s fair,” Sam said, looking now at Dean.
There were advantages that Dean had already thought of and intellectually, he knew it’d be different than living with Lisa. Emotionally, however….
“Dean,” Gwen prompted with raised brows.
He crossed his arms and studied all of them one by one. “We make whatever property we get all of ours, not one or the other. We all decide, we all agree. Business deal. No agreement, we don’t do it. We all look at properties, no sponging it off on any one person, and once we get a place, bedrooms are private domain, rest is common.”
“I can live with that.” Gwen smiled.
Sam nodded.
“Jo?” He turned his attention to her.
She sighed. “I already said okay. Don’t push me.”
The conversation over, Dean had the odd sense that though they’d all agreed, he’d been the one to make the decision for them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Abigael was almost the perfect pupil, Castiel reflected. Her only downside was asking the same question different ways until she was sure he’d given her a full and straight answer. It was wearying in a way.
“Castiel?”
“Yes?”
She ran a finger along the edge of her Styrofoam cup. They were sitting on a park bench together. She’d become fond of cinnamon lattes and liked to have one whenever they sat and talked. A human would burn her mouth if she tried to drink it as hot as Abigael drank it. “There are a couple things I’m still unclear on in regards to etiquette and humans.”
“Go on.”
“Well….’ She glanced at him and back at her cup. “You’ve said repeatedly not to listen in on their thoughts and yet you still do it. I noticed you did that to Sam in Las Vegas.”
He should’ve known she’d notice that -- as intently as she’d been studying him. “Sam and Dean both have this face they make when they want to speak to me alone. I’ve learned to recognize it and when you know them like I do, sometimes it’s good sense to listen a moment.”
“Oh. You also listen for them to call for you, yet we’re not supposed to be slaves to humanity.”
“The relationship I have with them is a personal one, going beyond the original duty. They’re friends. Friends come when called.”
She smiled, a gentle upwards quirk of the corners of her mouth. “You’re like a guard over them.”
“Sometimes I am. As I’ve attempted to tell Uzziel, dealing with humans isn’t a simple task that a few classes can aid. It’s an ongoing process of learning. I believe some of us are better equipped than others to handle personal, close interactions.”
“How so?”
“Those of us on earth need to remain apart from humans. We can’t forget our angelic identity. Some of us don’t have the great temptation to fall to enjoy human things. It’s those of us that don’t have the temptation or can control ourselves when confronted by it that should be on earth.”
“Maybe that’s how Balthazar can be of use. He seems to have the knack of seeing that in us.”
He bent over, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together. Why was he surprised that she’d heard about that? “Does everyone know about that conversation I had with him?”
“I don’t believe so.” She drained the cup and tossed it into the trashcan. “We librarians have more information at our fingertips than most. For example, we were among the first to take notice of you when you began to display human traits that we weren’t supposed to have. We pay attention because, for many of us, it’s our job to keep records. The word librarian is just a human understanding of what we do. It’s actually so much more. We’re the ones with our ears to the pulse of heaven and earth, Castiel.”
Castiel studied her. She still looked naïve and innocent to him, yet nearly every time she opened her mouth she disabused him of the notion that she hadn’t changed since she’d been with him. She’d lost quite a bit of that almost shy attitude. “Do you like being in the library?”
“It’s not a matter of liking or disliking. I was placed there by God, my skills were given to me by Him. I made the most --”
“Of what you were given.”
Abigael nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if I should return there. It was where I was initially placed after all. I’m good at that job.”
“I’m not where I was initially placed,” he pointed out. “Tell me…. If you were to have any assignment on earth, what sort of job would you choose?”
“Is this from a teacher standpoint or a friendly one?”
“Both, but primarily friendly. I’m curious.”
She smiled outright and turned her attention to the park. “Something that enables me to travel freely here, to study them and interact with them firsthand. I want to be a protector of the innocent, a guiding hand when advice is needed, and a friend to those who least expect aid.”
“That’s quite an ideal.”
“I know.” Her smile faded. “You asked about what I’d choose. My dream job. That’s it. I know I’ll take whatever you decide I can handle and I’ll do my best with it.” She sighed. “I feel for Uzziel, you know. He switched sides, made up his mind to embrace humanity, and then found he couldn’t be down here without temptation overwhelming him. I find it sad that he can’t have what he now wishes to have.”
“That’s spread as well?” He’d been trying to think of how to ease that temptation and had no ideas. Maybe Uzziel simply wasn’t meant to be on earth for more than a minute here and there.
“The angelic news network works fast,” she replied in a dry tone.
“Abigael,…” He hesitated a moment. He wanted to discuss something with her, since she did claim librarians knew things. “Have you noticed anything strange about some of our brothers and sisters lately?”
She crossed her legs and swung one foot. “Aside from the plotting Balthazar has been doing to usurp Uzziel, the mood swings the ones who left and returned have been having and the general air of giddiness remaining about Raphael being gone for good? Strange like that or something really bizarre?”
He smiled. “When you put it like that…. I suppose heaven is a strange place these days.”
“To be honest, the balance in heaven is still off. We’ve yet to recover from the war and from Raphael’s death, not to mention the changes you and Uzziel made have some of us feeling lost. No one knows what’s going on, Castiel, and the confusion isn’t good. Can I be candid with you?”
“Please.”
She turned on the bench, arm resting on the back of it. “Do you remember when Michael was in charge? How he oversaw everything and we knew what our jobs were? We don’t have that leadership and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s…different now. We’re moving forward, reorganizing, and winning the war sort of thrust you up there in charge where Michael was. While I’m glad to have the chance to learn from you, I think Uzziel’s initial idea of you being visible was a good one. Look at how much you both accomplished those months. When you were looking in on the departments, it made them feel like there was leadership among the chaos of reorg. Ships need a captain and you’re it. You need to be one.”
“I don’t want that role.” He knew everyone was getting tired of hearing it from him.
“So delegate most of it to Uzziel. Give him that task, but you tell him what departments to see when. You make the schedule. Don’t let him make you a schedule to follow. You’re the boss. Pick the areas you prefer to handle personally and let him whip the rest into shape. He has the skills and it’s what he knows best from handling troops. He enjoys that work, whether he admits it or not. He’ll have Jael to assist him and you can rest well knowing the job is being done well. Besides, it’ll keep him so busy he won’t have time to pine for Ellen Harvelle and human life.”
“He’s handling the AMP,” he pointed out.
“Maybe you could do it. Or delegate someone. Your methods are so different from Michael’s it’s alien territory for us. A lot of us fear change even now.”
She gave him a lot to think about as she continued to talk, half formed ideas that showed she’d been paying attention to everything around her and not just him. Maybe, he’d begin to take her advice and see where that led. Truth be told, he felt like he was lost as well, uncertain what to do and not having a clear purpose. The AMP was one thing, but it didn’t feel right yet. It needed to be in line with heaven’s purpose, but how to do that? He liked spending time teaching Abigael and saw the necessity of that process for others, yet there was much to be done.
Who could he talk to about the real pressures he was feeling? Who would understand it all and be able to give him advice and guidance, because right now? He needed both.
