Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 12

~~~~~~~~~~

The description Dean gave of the creatures was like nothing Castiel had seen or heard about in the years of his existence. He pondered that as Dean and Bobby’s conversation continued, his train of thought drawn up short as he heard his name, his attention focusing on what they were saying.

The stuff that came out of him was gray. Dean was right about that. The theory Dean came up with was fantastic. He proposed that Castiel was making the monster simply by the souls moving through him. Castiel almost laughed at that until he really thought about it.

He knew he was changed from the angel he’d been, but even he wasn’t sure exactly what those changes fully entailed. It was a thing he hated to admit to himself. So maybe Dean’s theory had a lick of truth to it. It was entirely possible he was a filter of sorts. He decided to track the mist in the area and observe it.

It turned out to be plural and they weren’t difficult to find, only a couple hundred miles away. He watched the pack descend on a group of humans, took in the changes their presence made in each, and touched down in the middle of their circle.

“What do you think you’re doing,” he asked them.

One by one, they left their hosts to circle above him, wisps of gray like a cross between a ghost and demon. These were definitely from him, just a few of what he occasionally had to release. He stretched out a hand, touching one of the humans and was saddened and frightened by what he discovered. He couldn’t heal them. The wisps of gray had perverted the very structure of their bodies, turning them into monsters much like the way a werewolf or vampire turned a person. This was quick, though. A seconds only changeover.

All of his efforts were unsuccessful, only serving to agitate the person. With a quick glance at the humans surrounding him, he regretted the action he had to take. He killed them, all six. It was unavoidable. That he couldn’t heal them or return them to their humanity frightened him deeply and he wondered, if he tried to raise a person from the dead now, would he be able to do it? Were his powers fading? Or was it that he couldn’t deal with these things?

The gray wisps churned against each other as if excited.

“You weren’t released from me to do this,” he told them.

Why were they released? Their question hung in the air, a wordless query he understood and one he had no answer for because he hadn’t released them willingly.

“If you can’t behave, I’ll have to take you back.”

He reached for them and found himself unable to reabsorb them. Panic began to rise inside him, a very real panic that worked through his entire body. He was unable to reintegrate them into himself. His heart beat fast and hard in his chest. First he was unable to heal the damage they’d done and now this. They couldn’t be allowed to remain. He had to take care of them somehow.

The spirits danced about him, their excitement growing as they realized he didn’t have the power to banish them back into himself. They taunted, he pursued. What could he do? How could he keep them from getting out of hand?

I have to fix this, he thought.

One dove into a man walking a dog a little ways down the street. The dog began to bark and as the owner changed, the dog whined, then lowered it’s belly to the ground. The owner wasn’t interested in it, however. The man dropped the leash, bared his teeth, and ran at Castiel. He touched the man’s forehead with his palm, power he still had burning the wisp up into nothing and destroying the human host. It was the same process and power he’d used to burn demons.

He stared up at the remaining wisps as the lifeless body dropped to the ground. “If I can’t take you back, then I’ll burn you into nothing one by one.”

They fled, and Castiel pursued.

~~~~~~~~~~

Scenery passed by in a dark blur, broken only by the Impala’s headlights. At this hour, there weren’t many cars on the road. Perhaps the occasional truck trying to beat a deadline or a person going home from or to work. The little towns they drove through were mostly dark and closed down for the night.

“Will you slow down?” Bobby shifted in the seat, stretching his legs out. Dean’s lead foot had gotten worse as the hours had passed and he’d decided they weren’t making fast enough progress getting back. “We ain’t any good to Sam if we’re both dead.”

Dean shot an annoyed glance his way, jaw clenching to keep back what looked to be a huge yawn. “Got to get back ASAP.”

“I get that, but ain’t no way we’re hitting warp speed any time soon, son. Slow down.”

“Bobby --”

“I’m worried about him, too.”

“We have to do something.”

It was a refrain Dean had been saying since Jo had called and they’d set out. “Sure we do. What?”

“I don’t know.” He swallowed hard.

Dean did know, though, he just didn’t want to admit it. Bobby understood that. They all knew what Sam needed and, like Dean, didn’t really want to admit it. He needed a good doctor and not the sort hunters usually went to. He needed one with a license and the ability to prescribe whatever meds would ease the seizures and hallucinations. “He’s not getting better, Dean. Not unless Cas fixes his melon.”

“That’s not gonna happen. He’s made that clear.”

The conversation was circular and Bobby let it drop. They’d only end up going round and round with him asking what plan Dean had and Dean saying he had no plan but that they needed to do something. Sam was nuts with a capital ‘N’ and getting nuttier by the day. Maybe when they got back, Bobby would sit down with Ellen and see if, between the two of them, they could find a doctor who’d look at Sam and wouldn’t be inclined to shove him in a padded room.

The problem was, Sam’s sort of nuts pretty much guaranteed a padded room for his future. He was headed down the road a lot of hunters came to. Bobby had known of a few who’d checked in for help and never checked back out.

He turned his head and looked out the window. As for Castiel and the demon things they’d been investigating, he thought Dean had a good theory. He even wondered if the Phoenix ash hadn’t completely obliterated Mother, but rather returned her to Purgatory, in which case, she would have been one of the things Castiel had absorbed. If so, could she have fused to Castiel? Could she be what was filtering things?

As a theory, he had no basis for it. She’d burned up and probably just ceased to exist. He decided not to mention the idea to Dean. Why make Castiel into any more than he already was? He’d been changed for the worse and that was bad enough. No sense adding to it.

This whole situation was screwed up. Sam was cuckoo, Cas was off his rocker, the church was making noises about being the one true religion, and they had this new monster to figure out how to fight. Then there was the mess with Jo and Dean.

He glanced at Dean. Did Dean even see his own attachment to Jo? The two were hardly pretending anymore. They’d passed pretend and hit the real stuff. Bobby wasn’t so old that he didn’t remember looking at a woman the way Dean had begun looking at Jo. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d looked at Ellie that way.

The thought of her made him grit his teeth, a pang of sorrow hitting him hard.

Oh, Ellie, he thought. I’m sorry.

She may have turned out to be one of the monsters in the end, but she’d been a damn good woman when he’d been with her. Had she returned to Purgatory upon her death? She must have. It was where monster souls went. Was she being turned into one of those things -- if Dean’s theory was correct? His heart ached for her if that was the case. She’d claimed she hadn’t been the typical monster and he believed her. It’d be horrible for her to be turned into the evil monster she’d denied being.

His hands ached and he looked down at his lap. He’d clenched them into fists. Slowly, he opened them, laid his hands flat on his thighs. Dean and Sam weren’t the only ones who had crap piling up on them. It was there for each of them…and it wasn’t going to stop. With experience came that wisdom. He didn’t share it with Dean. The boy had to have some sort of hope and right now, he was seeing hope in Jo. He was seeing something good in his life and that was what he needed.

He seemed to brighten and lighten up when he was around her. She brought out a spark that had been missing from Dean for a very long time. Hell, she’d even made him laugh. Jo Harvelle was good for Dean and Bobby hoped that whatever changes she brought to him would be permanent no matter what happened in the coming days.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is he,” Dean demanded, brushing past Ellen. He and Bobby had driven straight through with only food and bathroom breaks. Eighteen hours on the road with little to do but speculate on the gray mist stuff and whether or not Sam was going to keep having seizures.

“He’s upstairs resting. I made him take my room.”

Dean took the stairs two at a time, shoving open the door. Sam was in bed, pillows piled behind his back. “Another one?”

Sam sighed, marked his place in the book he was reading, and set it aside. “It just sort of happened.” He looked surprisingly well for a man who’d had a seizure. He looked, Dean realized, like a man who’d had enough sleep, a thing Dean wasn’t too familiar with the past week.

“That makes, what?, four total?”

“I guess.”

“You have any I don’t know about?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Of course not.”

He took a step closer, studying Sam’s expression and deciding he was telling the truth. “You remember anything yet?”

“No.”

“Okay. Ellen and Bobby will be here. Jo and I have to see a psychic.” Turning, he left the room calling for Jo. “Jo! Come on! Burnin’ daylight here!”

She came to the doorway of the room they shared and leaned against the doorframe. Her hair was in a braid and she was in jeans and a t-shirt with a hoodie zipped halfway up. Her feet were bare, nails painted a shade of red. “When was the last time you slept?” She crossed her arms.

“I don’t know. A couple days ago. We drove straight through.” He heard Bobby and Ellen talking downstairs. “Why are you standing there? Get ready and lets go.” He motioned at the stairs. “Get your shoes.”

Her gaze slowly swept over him and he had the urge to squirm a little under her gaze. It was the same look Ellen used from time to time, the one that took everything in. He could definitely tell they were mother and daughter. Jo pursed her lips and shook her head. “No.”

“No?” Dean raised his brows. Surely she wasn’t going to be difficult when she knew how important this was? Her friend knew something and they needed to get that information pronto. “Why not? We’re seeing that psychic friend of yours.”

“Um…not with you not having slept we’re not. I’m not getting in a car with you driving if you haven’t slept in a couple days -- unless you don’t mind me driving ‘baby’?”

“You’re not driving her.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam come to the door of Ellen’s room and look out at them. Was that a smirk on his face?

“Kind of what I thought. Then we’re not going until you take some rack time.”

“Jo --”

She came forward and held a finger up to his face, pointing at him. “It can wait five more hours. Besides, you trying to drive any more now would be like you driving drunk and I grew up taking people’s car keys away for trying to get in a car drunk.”

“I can drive.”

“Sam’s not going anywhere and if I know Darla, and I do, she’s holed up in her house trying to make sense of whatever it was she saw and heard.” Her glance slid to Sam. “And what are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’ve rested since you and Ellen finally let me get up off the floor. I’ve been in bed for pretty much an entire day.”

“The less agitated you get, the better. The only reason we didn’t call an ambulance is we knew how you two,” she flicked a finger back and forth between them, “would react to that. You need rest. Go back to bed and take your temperature.”

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Take your temperature and I’ll know that, too.”

“I’m not napping,” Dean told her, crossing his arms.

“Then we’re not going anywhere.”

“Give me her address.”

“No.”

His level of frustration was rising. “Jo.”

“I know this is important to you, but it’s important to me that you don’t fall asleep at the wheel while we’re on the road. I’d rather stay alive, thank you. So, if you can’t unbutton enough to let me drive your car, we wait until you’ve had some sleep.”

“No one drives my car but me and occasionally, Sam.”

Jo gestured back at the bedroom. “I just put clean sheets on the bed. Enjoy your nap, sweetheart.”

“You know the longer you argue with her, the longer it’ll be, right,” Sam asked, and that was a smirk on his face Dean had noticed.

He pointed at Sam. “You want to shut up?”

With a laugh, Sam held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Just pointing out the obvious.”

“Fine. I’ll rest. But I won’t like it.”

“Not asking you to like it, just to do it,” Jo replied.

With a loud sigh to indicate how put out he was by this, Dean stepped into the room he and Jo shared, gave her and Sam both a fake smile, and slammed the door.

Jo’s voice filtered through the wood. “I’ll be in in a bit to make sure you’re actually sleeping.”

He took off his jacket and laid on the bed without taking off his boots. Dean closed his eyes, determined that he wasn’t going to go to sleep. However, he must have been exhausted because when he woke up, it was morning, and Jo was sitting on the bedside, a hand on his forehead. “Whaddyou doing,” he murmured.

“You slept sixteen hours straight. I didn’t think that was possible without having to get up for a pee break.”

“You didn’t wake me?”

“Tried. You were down for the count. You didn’t even move when I came to bed last night.” Her lips curved slightly, almost and not quite a smile. “You know you snore when you sleep on your back?”

“I don’t snore. I laid awake all night one night and never heard myself once.” He stretched. “You took my boots off?”

“Only when it was clear you were down for the count. I considered putting a blanket over you, but since you always throw the covers off anyway, I didn’t bother.”

“How’s Sam?”

“Fine. Ignoring mom’s advice that he stay in bed another day. He’s out helping Bobby with something I think.”

He licked his lips and grasped her hand. “Can we leave now or do you have another thing you want me to do first?”

She smiled. “Well, I’d think you’d want breakfast, but if you’d rather eat an Egg McMuffin while you drive instead of a home cooked meal, I’m ready when you are. If we leave soon, we’ll get to Darla’s about one or two.”

“I’ll take ten to shower and change and be down.”

The drive would have been fun if not for the circumstances. Jo was good company. She kept the conversation going, yet knew when to let silence fall between them.

“How do you do that,” he asked.

“Do what?” She opened a bottle of water and took a drink.

“Know when to stop talking?”

Her laugh was amused. “Well, that’s not usually what guys say about women.”

“I mean it. You’re good at the whole conversation thing.”

“I had to learn how. Mom would never play the usual car games like ‘I spy’, so being out with her meant I needed to talk. We either listened to music, books, or talked. Her favorite was talking. No one word responses unless one word summed it all up. Mom claimed it’s a skill and the more you practice, the better you get. She said it’d help in the game if I got comfortable with talking and with silence.”

“Ellen has good advice.”

“Not what I thought at sixteen.” She snorted. “Not even what I thought at twenty-one.” Jo turned her head. “Man, I was a brat back then. Maybe she should have locked me in the basement, or taken a switch to my ass.”

“Name me one teenager who isn’t a brat at some time.”

“I’ll bet Sam wasn’t much of a brat.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, the stories I could tell you about that kid. He was brat alright. Pain in my ass. You know he got straight A’s every year no matter how many times we moved?”

“That’s not bratty.”

“It is when you’re me, who’d dropped out of high school to follow dad. Felt like he was showing me up.”

“But you got a GED, Dean. Those are way hard to get. They’re harder than actually graduating. You can’t be dumb and get one.”

“I guess.”

“Tell me more.”

He spent the rest of the drive telling her about their teenage years. The time seemed to fly and it didn’t feel like hours had passed when they pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house. “This is Darla’s house? Being a psychic pay this good for her?”

“There’s other income,” Jo said and got out of the car. She went to the door, Dean following, and pressed the bell.

The door opened. Jo’s friend Darla was built like a modern day Marilyn Monroe, curvy in all the right places. “Jo.” She didn’t sound or look surprised to see them.

“Hey. Had a few questions.”

Darla nodded and looked at Dean, eyes widening a little. “You must be Dean.”

“I must be. How’d you know?”

“Your family resemblance to your brother. I also mentioned to Sam that having more than one second chance at life makes him rare. He said I should meet you. I see what he meant.”

“And that means what?”

“First, it means you’ve got a mark on you, too. I though Jo’s was bad, but yours…. Let’s just say I bet you’re as haunted by what’s happened to you as Sam is about his own experience. Second? It means I think I need to start happy hour a little early today.” Darla returned her attention to Jo and sighed. “Do you have any friends these days who haven’t been dead? Making me kind of nervous for my own mortality.”

Jo laughed at the almost exasperated tone Darla used. “Um…not so much, no.”

“Ahh. Well, as long as you’re here, you might as well come in.”

They stepped past her and as they moved into the house, Dean noticed a wall of photographs. He saw Darla with a man, her with what looked like three different babies, and a picture of them all. Darla had a family. He gestured at the wall. “Nice family.”

“Thanks. Hunter is my oldest, Damon the youngest, and Kaylee in the middle.” She pointed at one picture. “That’s Tim. Tim’s my husband.”

“Starlight?”

She smiled. “Uh, no. Peterson, actually. I still use my stage name when anyone wants my psychic services. People like it and some hunters expect it.”

“You’ve worked with others besides Jo then?” They followed her into a large, sunny kitchen and sat at the table while she poured and brought glasses of iced tea to them. After her happy hour comment, he half expected her to bring out a bottle of whiskey to add to it, but she didn’t.

“I know a few. I do a job here and there, mostly run of the mill things. For example, I found a missing child about four months ago. Her father had killed her mother and the mother led me and one hunter I brought in to the girl. He had her stashed in a cabin deep in the woods.”

“Why’d you bring the hunter in?”

Her head tilted. “The father was a werewolf. Became one anyway. I was under a time crunch when I found that out through the mother’s spirit. We had to get in, get the girl, and get her out before he killed her, too.”

“Ahh.” He nodded. “So you’ve seen some things.”

“Some,” Darla agreed, sitting.

“What did you see this time,” Dean asked.

Darla appeared to think it over, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I had nightmares last night about what I saw. I don’t mean the light kind, either. I mean the kind that had my husband and kids trying to calm me down the rest of the night.”

“Can you tell me anything at all?”

She sighed. “Evil. Blood, pain, and evil.”

“You told me he was dangerous,” Jo reminded her. “You said to get away while I can. Did you mean Sam?”

“I was upset, Jo.” Her gaze was apologetic. “Reacting to what I saw.”

“What did you see?” Dean was beginning to get frustrated by the woman’s refusal to be direct.

Darla looked away, squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head for a long minute. When she looked back up, her eyes were open, tears in them. “I saw evil, Dean, and evil saw me.” She hugged herself. “That face…. Beautiful and horrible at the same time.”

Who had she seen? Was it possible she’d seen the Lucifer Sam always hallucinated? “Who did you see?”

“He looked like a man, but that’s not his true face. His true face is…different. It’s…sort of like light filtered through darkness, if that makes any sense to you. He threatened to pull my entrails out and make my children wear them as necklaces. Can you see why I don’t want to talk about it? Whatever or whoever I saw haunts your brother.”

But was he real or a hallucination? The idea that Lucifer could be real and still somehow be there made bile rise in his throat. How was that even possible? They’d put him back in the cage. He leaned forward. Before he entertained that notion, he had to make sure it hadn’t been a case of her seeing Sam’s hallucination. “You ever touch someone who has hallucinations and share them? See what he sees?”

“Once….” She licked her lips. “This was different.”

“Different how?”

“Well…the first time I experienced a shared hallucination, the hallucination didn’t notice me. I was just there, like scenery. It was like watching a tv show and I was the audience.”

Jo drew in a sharp breath. He glanced at her and she shook her head, declining to comment.

“This time, if it was a hallucination I was drawn into, it noticed me. It looked right at me and made a threat to me.”

“So it was real.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. Does Sam suffer from hallucinations?”

“On occasion.”

“Ahh.” She nodded. “It still felt different. I felt heat, smelled sulfur and carrion. If I got tugged into one of Sam’s hallucinations, then I honestly don’t know how he’s still walking around in the world and not under observation in a psych ward. It was terrible, like what I imagine hell could be. To have visual, olfactory, audible, and tactile hallucinations all combined…. Those are some bad hallucinations, the sort most people couldn’t face and walk around with.” Darla took a long drink of tea. “However, if it wasn’t a hallucination, then something terrible and horribly evil is haunting Sam.”

“How do we know if they’re just hallucinations,” Jo interjected.

Darla traced a circular pattern on the wood of the table with a fingertip. “My best guess would be to treat the hallucinations medically, then see what’s leftover. If he’s still got that walking around in front of him, you’ll have your answer.”

It even made sense as a course of action, though he hesitated to drug Sam to the gills. “Can you tell us about the message?”

“No. I’m afraid messages are only for the --”

“I need to know. Sam doesn’t remember and it could be important. Please.”

Jo leaned forward and put a hand over one of Darla’s. “Please, Darla. It’s really important. You know I’d never have come here if it wasn’t.”

Darla slumped in her chair. Right when Dean decided she wasn’t going to tell them, she nodded. “Okay. It was from a spirit who said her name was Mary.”

He felt cold. Mary their mother? “Go on.”

“The message itself was brief, but she stressed how worried she was to me and that I had to tell him no matter what I may see or hear. She said he has to see what he’s too afraid to see before it’s too late.”

“See what he’s too afraid to see? That’s it?” Was Lucifer there? Was that what he was too afraid to see? Had Lucifer managed to hitch a ride back to earth on Sam’s soul? If so, then how? Surely Death would have noticed an evil archangel clinging to Sam’s soul. Not to mention Castiel should have seen Lucifer hanging out in Sam these past months if Lucifer was, in fact, really there. Since he was set on being God, Dean didn’t think he’d want Lucifer there waiting to take over.

The more he thought about it, the more it made his head hurt.

“Yeah. Does it mean anything to you?”

It sort of reminded him of the messages Sam was getting from the Chuck hallucination. Were they all connected? Were both something in Sam’s head and their own mother from the grave trying to warn Sam of something? It was looking that way. “Maybe.”

“She was pretty insistent. Whoever she is, she’s terrified for Sam. I could hear it. Terror isn’t something you forget, especially from a spirit.”

It couldn’t be good that their mother was terrified for Sam. It indicated to Dean that there was much more going on than they understood. “She didn’t say anything else? Anything at all?”

Darla set her glass aside and leaned on the table. “Do you want me to try to get her for you? I can try. Can’t guarantee success. Sometimes spirits come across with a single urgent message and that’s all they can manage.”

He looked at Jo.

She stared right back. “It’s up to you, sweetheart, but I’d try. If Mary knows something….”

Dean returned his attention to Darla. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” She arched a brow. “But if I see anything weird like I did with your brother, you two both better lose my number and address.”

Part of Dean hoped that there’d be a message for him, while another part thought it’d probably give them more questions instead of answers. Jo rubbed his back with a hand while Darla set up.

Her method was different from others, but then her talents were different. Psychic was a term that actually covered a lot of gift ground. She laid out and lit some candles, took Dean’s hands in hers, and attempted to call for Mary Winchester.

It was quickly clear that she was getting nothing.

After nearly twenty minutes, Darla shook her head and released Dean’s hands. “I’m sorry. Nothing.”

Dean’s attention drifted around Darla’s kitchen, his disappointment running high. His shoulders slumped. “Worth a try, right?”

Darla began to clean up the area, snuffing candles, and straightening the table. “May I ask who Mary was?”

Jo answered for him. “Dean and Sam’s mom.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t have a message for you as well, Dean.”

“It’s fine.” He sat up straight and touched Jo’s leg. “You ready? We shouldn’t take up any more of Darla’s time.”

They said their goodbyes and left.