Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 10
Notes: Bible verses are credited in text with book, chapter, and verse, all NIV.

~~~~~~~~~~

With Sam in the shower, Dean decided look up a few more things. Sam would be in there awhile. He took longer showers these days than he used to and Dean understood. It was easier to have a meltdown with the water running to muffle any sounds. He’d done it himself. He remembered standing in front of the mirror over the sink while water ran and steam swirled around him, desperately trying to recognize himself in his reflection. In fact, he’d done that just that morning. Dean remembered the flashes of hell memories rising up, making his hands shake.

He took a drink from the water bottle beside him, forcing himself to turn his attention to his work.

The conclusion Ellen brought them to was horrifying for many reasons, the first being that Castiel could easily have his followers keep track of all of them, much like what Zachariah had done to Dean to find him, and they’d never know who was watching them. With the influence Castiel had over the people, he could mobilize them to accomplish just about anything through human channels. He could shape the world to any vision he had for it far more easily with human cooperation. There’d be no need to exert himself if he had the bulk of the world behind him, which looked to be within a year.

They needed to end him and fast. The problem was how to do that. They had yet to find any references anywhere to a creature like what he’d become.

Dean groaned and closed the laptop. For days, between working a job, he and Sam had been digging deeper into the things Ellen had elaborated on. The truth wasn’t even hidden, it was simply a matter of looking for it. The Church wasn’t hiding anything. The numbers Ellen had quoted were correct.

“What is it you’ve been seeing out here on your jobs? What new things?”

Castiel’s voice startled him and he sat back with a gasp. He’d appeared like he always did: silently, and he was spying on them all over again. Still, rather. He still spied on them. He’d known Cas had been there while he and Jo talked, Jo had seen him, but this brought it really home, him once more using Dean’s own words. He made no effort to cover up that he’d been watching, either, which irritated the hell out of Dean. Castiel seemed to think it was his right to spy. Dean felt creeped out by it even more than usual, especially in light of the conversations he and Jo had shared in that room that night.

“An uptick in activity,” he said, scrambling for some sort of new thing that might stop the questioning that was coming before he said something he shouldn’t.

“Besides that. You meant something specific. What were you referring to?”

What could he say? He latched onto something Bobby was working up, something that really was new. “Cases of aggression that stem from what could be demon activity. Not typical activity, just similar. A possible type of possession.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “There are other creatures in the world who possess in a similar manner. You should pray to me when you have more information. I’d be happy to assist you in identifying the cause.”

Dean got up from his chair and turned away.

“Dean?”

“We don’t need your help on this.”

Castiel sighed. “Why do you remain stubborn? Why do you not pray to me?” His voice was sad and more than a little petulant as he went on. “You should pray to me. Many in the world now do. You used to. Why do you not now?”

Dean closed his eyes a moment, then reopened them and turned. “Castiel. You know why.”

“How is what I ask any different than what you were already doing? You prayed to me, Dean. Me.” He touched one hand to his chest. “Don’t you remember? I’m not asking you to change what you were doing, merely continue to do it. Why do you not pray to me anymore?”

“You’re talking to the wrong Winchester. I’m not the praying kind of guy. Sam is.”

“Sam is praying to the wrong God. But you….” He shook his head. “You have no faith. That’s still your problem.”

Indicating that Sam continued to pray. Even after everything that had happened, Sam had faith enough to pray. The news of that floored him. How was it possible? How could Sam, of all people, still have any sort of faith left? “Not like you listened to Sam anyway, is it?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he tasted bile at the back of his throat, waiting for whatever Castiel would do in retaliation.

Castiel frowned. “I explained why I didn’t answer him in those days.”

“Did you? Did you really give us the truth? Because with what I know now about what you were up to all those months I was out of the game, it doesn’t seem likely, does it?” It was a direct challenge and while he could see the tightening of Castiel’s fists, it didn’t look like he was going to act. Why wasn’t he acting? From past experience, he would act.

Assuming a condescending expression, Castiel drew himself up taller, head tipping back a fraction. “Your childish outburst is unwarranted, Dean. I spoke the truth then.”

He bit his tongue to keep from asking if he’d actually told it that day or merely convinced himself he had.

“I’ll leave you with this: I’ve taken care of the publicity Ellen received. She shouldn’t be bothered by anyone now, though I understand should she decide to remain cautious. None of you should be bothered. I’ll keep you all separate, Dean. I promise.” He disappeared. Maybe.

His promises meant nothing. He’d promised to fix Sam and hadn’t. That meant Dean couldn’t trust him to keep any promise. “Sure.” He looked around the room for some sign that Castiel had stuck around, but as usual, there was none.

The bathroom door opened. “What’d he want,” Sam asked, wiping his face with a towel.

“The usual. ” Dean shrugged. “What’s going on, why aren’t you praying to me…Sam’s praying to the wrong God. He said you still pray.”

Sam tossed the towel onto the bathroom sink and came out, reaching for his button down shirt and pulling it on. “Did he?”

“Do you?” He watched Sam closely, Sam avoiding looking at him. “You do, don’t you? How can you pray to a God that hasn’t done crap for us? Have you looked at both of us lately, Sam? We’ve both been to hell and back in the literal sense. We’ve had so much crap piled on us and it never stops. We’re still getting the crap shoveled our way. Explain that to me, because it’s not making much sense.”

Sam sighed and began sorting through his bag. “I just do, okay? I know Cas isn’t God, not really, but I have to believe the real one is still out there and he’ll knock Cas down a peg or two someday. I have to believe there’s judgment for what he did somewhere in the future.”

“Only thing I see out there is Death and guess what? He’s not much of a fan of ours either.”

“Look, Dean, I pray. I always have. It’s how it is.” He turned. “We know He’s out there. We got that confirmation once.” He sat down on the bed. “It’s hard to explain, I guess. How am I vertical? Think about it. I should be catatonic at best and I’m walking around. That’s got to be some sort of divine intervention.”

He wasn’t convinced, but saw the stubborn set to Sam’s jaw and knew if he pursued this they’d end up going round and round on the issue. “We’ll see. Personally, I’d like the intervention to be more on the fixing you completely side of things.”

A half smile tugged Sam’s lips. “We’ve never been that lucky.”

“Got that right.” He went to the table and began gathering papers. They needed to be in Nevada ASAP. “You about ready?”

“When you are.”

Within half an hour, they were heading towards the next location.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks passed. Sam and Dean went out on two jobs that were fairly close, one that took a week and a half and one that was easy and done within a week. The rest was travel time. The jobs themselves were typical, the world Sam saw around him not. Interviewing witnesses was hard enough sometimes without Lucifer suggesting impertinent questions and talking over them. Nor did Sam care for seeing the witnesses strung up with hooks or ropes or killed in front of him in bizarre ways. Lucifer’s homage to The Birds had been particularly disturbing and had had him ducking and running for cover every time he’d seen a bird for two days after.

Dean had told everyone who witnessed that that Sam suffered from ornithophobia, the fear of birds. Sam wasn’t entirely certain Lucifer hadn’t added a few big birds here and there to milk it.

Being on the road was getting harder with each week that passed. He’d found himself hiding little things that indicated his condition was worsening, afraid of how Dean would react. Dean wanted him well so badly and there was no way he saw that happening unless they did get some divine intervention. He’d had a hard time explaining to Dean why he prayed and, honestly, he had trouble explaining it to himself. It just felt like the right thing to do.

He smiled a little as Dean turned into Bobby’s driveway, glad to be someplace he could talk to himself and no one would look at him like he was insane…which he thought he was. Upon stepping inside, Sam was amused to watch Jo grab Dean before he could even set his bag down and drag him up the stairs. Dean dropped the bag halfway up the stairs. Sam guessed it had something to do with Ellen, though it could be anything. He wondered how long before Jo went stir crazy with nothing to do but play wife.

“Pills still working,” Bobby asked him with crossed arms and a blunt voice.

“So far.” He was taking the sleeping pills more often than he should, but getting real rest was a welcome escape from waking hours. Dean understood and hadn’t called him on it. Nor had he called him on the hour long showers. Dean had no room to talk on those. He simply appeared as relieved as Sam was that Sam was sleeping, which meant Dean himself could rest.

With a nod, Bobby returned outside. It was still a work day for him.

Ellen paused in folding a mountain of laundry. “You may be sleeping but you look like hell. That a nick I see on your jaw?”

“Two. Lucifer wanted to shave me and I jerked before remembering he wasn’t actually there with a straight razor.”

“Mmm.” She was dividing clothes between two bags and one basket. “Seeing anything new these days?”

He snagged Dean’s bag, set it with his, and sat down. “Same old, same old mostly.”

Her stare was critical. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Saw one. Sleeping pills, remember?”

“Dean got them and I mean a real doctor, one who even still has a license.”

Sam looked away. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. “I don’t want to talk about it, Ellen. I especially don’t want to talk about it with anyone who could lock me up for the rest of my life. Dean needs me out, not shoved in a building somewhere.”

“I agree. That boy is dependant on you.” She placed two shirts on one bag. “Tell me something though…. How much help are you going to be to him if this gets worse? When was the last time he had to cuff you to a pipe? Or calm you down from a hallucination?”

Both in the past three weeks. To be fair, he’d made Dean cuff him to the pipe. It hadn’t been Dean’s idea this time. “I’m functioning.”

“Functioning,” she repeated, then pursed her lips. Ellen zipped a bag and stopped what she was doing entirely to study him. Sam felt exposed. She had that knack of seeing what he was trying to hide. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re worse than you’re letting on, aren’t you?” The query was soft, almost hesitant.

“I’m fine, Ellen. A few hallucinations every day --”

“Jesus, Sam, don’t play things too close. We all love you here, you know that. I consider you my own like I birthed you.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Of course you are.” Her sigh was long and frustrated. “Will you do me a favor and sit out the next case, whatever it is? Stay here with me and Jo and rest. We’d love your company.”

He sighed and sat back in the chair, propping a foot on the footrest. The request wasn’t merely for him, he realized. She, Jo, and Bobby all had to be wearing on each other’s nerves by now. “I was already planning on it. Bobby doesn’t need me and Dean both with him and Dean’s more curious than I am about the case. It doesn’t sound like much to me.” He indicated the laundry with a hand. “You going somewhere?”

“Getting a bag ready in case I find something I want to investigate.”

He put laundry in, both his and Dean’s, then sat down to do some studying. He flipped through the old Bible that Castiel had shown interest in in the middle of the night that one night, verses jumping out at him as he flipped. The verses were a mix about false gods, hardened hearts, and punishment.

That likely included angels gaining power and setting themselves up as God himself.

Castiel had used this verse himself, yet putting it into the perspective of Castiel as the hardened heart, it indicated problems in the future for Cas.

Another indication of Castiel and the way he’d set himself up as God.

Those verses talked about Nebuchadnezzar, but Sam hoped it could apply here and that Castiel would be deposed.

“And blah, blah, blah.” Lucifer sat across from him, crossed his arms on the edge of the desk and rested his chin on them. “It’ll come in time, Sam, and someone will rise in his place. I could do a better job than him. I never opened Purgatory and ingested all the souls inside. Surely I get good archangel points for that?”

Rather than answer, he flipped pages, skimming the words.

“He’ll fall. They all do. Some fall down to hell and some just…fall.” He slapped a hand onto the desk with a crack. “Which do you think Castiel will be? Should I start dusting off a corner of the cage to make him a home? Michael might enjoy beating the snot out of him. The pretender God, ultimate blasphemer.” He smiled. “As powerful as he thinks he is right now, he’s nothing and will forever remain nothing. A small-time fake shaking his fist at daddy.” Lucifer stared at him. “I think we both know something about that, don’t we?”

“Why don’t you tell me something useful,” he muttered, flipping more pages.

“You want useful, Sam? How about this? Why does he always spy and ask for information? Shouldn’t he be able to glean it from your thoughts? Know it before it happens? Shouldn’t he be able to anticipate everything you do, every place you go, and every single thought you have?”

“He’s not omnipotent or omniscient. I know that.”

“Does everyone else in your little posse? Ellen perhaps. Maybe Jo. She’s a smart girl. Have Dean-o and the Bobster internalized it?”

“Maybe.” Or maybe not.

“Start using it.”

“Use it how?” How could they use that against Castiel? Was it even possible?

Lucifer sat back, clasping his hands behind his head. “You’ve got a brain, big boy. Figure it out.” As if he’d said enough, he faded from view, leaving Sam with a message that was eerily like the one Chuck kept giving him: Focus and figure out what he wasn’t seeing.

~~~~~~~~~~

The door was barely closed before Jo was pulling away and pacing. She was upset by something.

Dean took his jacket off and laid it on the end of the bed. “Talk to me.”

She turned. “I saw her, Dean.” The words were sobbed.

“Who?”

Her hands went to her side, patting it. “Her. The demon. Same host. She was here in Sioux Falls. Today.” From the look on her face, he deduced she’d been keeping this inside. She was crying already, but trying to stop herself, her features scrunching up.

“Wait, Meg? Meg’s here?” Why would Meg be here, he wondered, then answered that question quickly. She had a thing for Castiel, that was why, and if he was hanging around here, she’d follow eventually. “Did you tell Ellen and Bobby?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Mom would’ve been out on the streets before I even finished telling her what happened. She’d go after her, try to exorcise her wherever she found her, get herself arrested or killed.” Jo stopped pacing. “I can’t let that bitch get either of us killed again.”

He moved close. “What happened?”

“I was coming out of the pharmacy and bumped into her. She looked at me and….” Jo wiped tears from her cheeks. “She said she remembered me, that she’d have to see me again real soon so we can chat about how I’m still alive.”

He swore, long and low, hands tightening into fists. Just what they didn’t need. Meg joining in the mix. As if Castiel and his Church wasn’t enough. “We’ll find her. We’ll exorcise her, use the knife on her, something, get her out of the way.”

“That might be difficult. She was with that nut Constance Turco, acting like her best buddy.”

“Trying to insert herself into the Church?” It seemed like a Meg thing to do. Insert herself, make herself indispensable, and get close to Castiel. With Crowley in the place she wanted to be, she might try to oust him by showing Castiel she was more cooperative than Crowley, that he could trust her to run hell exactly the way he wanted. Might be interesting to watch her get her ass fried by Cas, but he didn’t want her anywhere near Jo.

“Maybe. The two were chatty, giggly. It was disturbing coming from Constance. I watched them for awhile, but then Meg aimed a finger at me like a gun and pretended to pull the trigger. I didn’t stay after that. I came back.”

“They didn’t notice you were upset?” He touched her arms, ran his hands up and down them. Her skin was cool.

“I didn’t give them a chance. I came right up here.” She sniffled, blinking fast to ward off a fresh rush of tears. “I don’t want them to know.”

Looking at her, he saw exactly what she needed from him and took action. He drew her against him, holding her when she resisted. “Let it out, Jo. If you don’t do it now, it’ll come out later and Ellen will still run after her. You know that.” She relaxed against him, arms going around him, face pressed to his chest as she cried. He could imagine easily what coming face to face with Meg had been like for her. Dean embraced her until her sobs stopped, then released her. “Better?”

She glanced away. “I don’t cry like this….”

“It’s okay. Meeting the thing that killed you is always emotional. You deserve a good cry from the shock. You’re allowed to feel something about it.”

Jo drew herself up straight. She quickly pulled herself together and Dean admired that ability. He remembered she’d had it even way back in Philadelphia, going from rescued damsel to bait in seconds. “She’ll be the one crying next time.”

“That’s the spirit. What’s say you wash your face and we go down and pretend this never happened?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Back downstairs, the tv was playing their favorite program: Castiel on live broadcast, doing something he considered good for the world. Dean didn’t even ask what he was up to this time, he merely called the meeting to order. Jo volunteered to watch the broadcast and let them know when Castiel got tired of it and disappeared.

“How long,” Bobby demanded, hurrying through the door.

“About five,” Ellen answered.

“Anything?” Dean leaned against the desk, the question meaning any information at all that they might be able to use.

“My searches have come up with as much nothing as yours.” Jo kept her gaze on the tv. “Geez. The sick again. This time in China. How many thousands has he healed now?”

“it’s got to be in the billions by now and he likes to be useful.” Ellen joined her.

“One word for it,” Bobby muttered. “We got anything worth discussing or not? If not, I got work.”

“He’s not omniscient,” Sam blurted out. “He doesn’t know everything. If he did, he’d know what we’re up to. He’d know about Dean and Jo. He’d know everything and he doesn’t, but he doesn’t want us to know he doesn’t. He’s trying pretty hard to make us think he’s omniscient and all powerful --”

“Sam’s right.” Ellen leaned forward, hands clasped together. “He was asking me for info awhile back that he should’ve known if he was really highest of the high.”

Sam shook his head, hair sliding onto his forehead. “He’s not omnipotent either. He’s not unlimited. He has limits.”

“Does he?” At times, Dean wasn’t sure of that at all. Castiel seemed to be everywhere.

Bobby leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Makes sense. If he’s not omniscient, meaning he doesn’t know everything, it also means he’s not omnipotent. Not knowing things is a limit and if he has limits, he can somehow be killed.”

Back to the big question. Dean shrugged. “Okay. But how do we kill him? And what use is knowing he’s not all that if we don’t know how to use it against him?”

“Guys, he’s gone!” Jo looked up.

Bobby turned and left the house without another word.

Ellen pulled an iPhone out of her jeans pocket and tapped at it. “Sam, would you like to see a movie with me tonight? Bobby won’t go and Jo’s already seen everything.”

“Um…sure?”

“Let’s go then.”

And then it was only Dean and Jo. Her smile was bright and forced. “Well, honey, do we stay in or go out?”

Dean pulled out his car keys. “We’re going out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

With a cup of coffee in hand, Jo sat outside and thought about the next step. She was the only one awake at present, but that was okay. She didn’t mind the quiet solitude. She’d laid in bed for awhile and watched Dean sleep.

When he did sleep, he crashed hard and she knew that wasn’t good. He was too stressed, too sleep deprived from worries that wouldn’t shut down. He had a ton of ‘what if’ scenarios running through his head for each of them, plus the scenarios for whatever jobs he and Sam had.

She eased what worries she could, keeping him up to date and doing naturally what Castiel wanted her to do. There was a lot she couldn’t ease. It simply wasn’t possible.

Jo sighed. Seeing the demon Meg in town had shaken her badly, but she couldn’t let that stop her from continuing with her plan. She had a list ready for her next step, fake papers, and a grid to work from. Her mother wasn’t going to like this. She already told Jo she was being too reckless, though the words lacked the usual touch of forceful warning.

Ellen wasn’t one to talk about reckless however. She was walking a rope herself with the Church, investigating them like a journalist hoping for a scandalous exposé . She’d even seem disappointed when the furor over her appearance at that service died down within a couple days. It was obvious to Jo that Ellen had her own reckless plan that likely included Bobby. The two had some sort of weird facial expression and hand gesture code now to communicate.

Then there was Sam. He wasn’t in a good way and they all knew it. Dean thought Sam was hiding his condition again, trying to downplay it. Jo wouldn’t blame him if he did. It probably wasn’t out of trying to be secretive but rather trying to deny to himself how bad it was.

She drank deeply of the hot coffee, both hands around the oversized mug she’d bought recently. She’d found two oversized mugs that said ‘his’ and ‘hers’ on them in a bright red and yellow design. Bobby had barely concealed his amused grin when she’d explained to them all that she had to start setting up a home for herself and Dean. The mugs were perfect. She’d brought out three more mugs after that, mugs without writing, claiming she’d gotten a good deal.

She’d be glad when she no longer had to do stupid shit like that. Playing the part Castiel had given her was wearing on her.

The door opened and Dean sat close beside her. His leg brushed hers. “Mind some company?”

“You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s going around I hear.”

“Why are you up early?”

Jo set her mug down and leaned back on her hands. “Couldn’t get my mind to stop. Too many things I’m thinking about.”

“I hear you.” He took a drink of coffee. She saw he was using the ‘his’ mug. “You feeling okay? I mean, the whole out of sorts thing we talked about.”

She was now, after time had passed, but could see he was worrying about that. He worried that she and Ellen had been brought back changed. Understandable after how Cas had brought Sam back. “I know someone who might be able to tell.”

“Who?”

“She’s a psychic, someone I trust. I’ll have her come out and take a look at us. She’s good with auras and things. If we’re all out of whack, she’ll probably be able to see it.” Jo sat up.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.” Jo rested her hand on his knee for a few seconds. “If it’ll put your mind at rest on this, of course I will.”

“Get her out here as soon as you can, okay? Bobby and I are leaving tomorrow morning on that weird case he got wind of --”

“I know. I’ll get her out here, we’ll keep an eye on Sam, and we’ll all be fine when you get back. You and Bobby be careful.”

“He tell you anything about it?”

“As little as possible. Said something about keeping my curiosity in check, though he did mention someone had spotted gray fog right before a guy went nuts.” There were weird reports beginning to filter through the hunting community about a gray fog, hunters calling Bobby to see if he had any idea what it was. He didn’t, hence the trip he and Dean were taking.

“Probably a ghost or something mixed with some guy off his meds.”

“Maybe.”

They sat drinking their coffee together as the sun rose.