Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 19

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo ended up staying awake all night, both Sam and Dean helping her after they were done with Crowley. Dean crashed in Bobby’s chair around three, but she and Sam kept going. Sam used the laptop and his phone and Jo alternated between Bobby’s computer and her phone. They worked with maps spread out, making marks according to the key they’d worked out.

She yawned, covering it with a hand, and blinked twice at the phone number in the address book. With her yawning every minute or so, making calls wasn’t a good idea. Jo ripped a small sticky note off the pad at her elbow and placed it on the page to mark her place. She rested her chin in her hand.

So far, the hunters she’d talked to were aware of the existence of the PD’s and one claimed that waving something iron into the mist made it dissipate. She’d see if anyone else on her list corroborated it and if no one did, she’d mention it with skepticism. Each hunter took the silver idea seriously and most already wore something silver on them. Few in the U.S. seemed to have actually come face to face with the gray mist or one of the changed humans, live or dead. Maybe she’d have better luck with the overseas contacts.

Sam brought over a cup of coffee and gestured at the couch with his other hand. “Either you can drink this and stay up or I can drink it and you take a nap. Your choice.”

“I should sleep awhile. Can’t think straight anymore.”

“I’ll keep working.”

“Why don’t you get some rest, too?” Standing, she stretched.

He set the mug on the desk and shook his head as he sat back down. “Insomnia. It’s a side effect. I’ll be okay. I’ll sleep later if I can.”

“You sure?”

“Go on.”

Jo slept until Dean woke her at nine. She tossed off the blanket she didn’t remember having earlier, made a trek to the bathroom, and had a cup of coffee and toast that Dean made for her as he made his own. They ate in companionable silence at the table before clearing the dishes. Then it was back to work while Sam took her place on the couch and Dean assisted her in making calls.

Around lunchtime, she cleared her throat. “We have correlation,” Jo announced to him, placing her hands flat on the table and leaning on them. “Or the good beginnings of it anyway. The trail of attacks starts about fifty miles from here the night of the assassination and moved primarily east. There are reports in Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Maine, and more. Sam found reports starting up overseas yesterday. The blue marks are where actual attacks have been happening, with changes to hosts and the rest are sightings of the mist.” It looked pretty clear to her that the stuff coming from Castiel was attacking people and changing them.

“Excellent,” Dean replied, leaning over to look at the map. “Though not excellent for the victims.”

“I know what you meant.”

“You get anything on how to fight them, because I’ve got nothing but a bunch of scared hunters making guesses.” He folded the map and set it aside.

“One hunter here I talked to insisted that waving something iron through the mist makes it dissipate like a ghost and that silver is a definite go for us. Said he witnessed mist try to enter four people and it couldn’t. Each was wearing silver.”

“Good to know we guessed right.”

“Killing them or returning them to purgatory, though, that’s the problem. One guy in Italy said he might try working up a ritual to both summon them and send them back to Purgatory while another in Austria suggested changing around some words in the exorcism ritual to draw them out and send them back. He didn’t want to try that idea out himself, though. He was all for us trying it and letting him know if it worked.”

“Don’t blame him. Basically, you’ve got nothing, too.”

“Right. Just stuff we already know. It doesn’t look like many hunters have actually come across them live.” She closed the notebook. “I wonder what would happen if they stayed in a host. None of them we’ve heard about seem to stay very long, just long enough to change us. It’s weird. Even demons try to stay in a host, use them as long as they can for one reason or another.”

“Maybe their endgame is to make us all crazy creatures so we kill each other off. It’d kill off all the monsters out there, too, the ones that depend on humans for food or to propagate. It’d destroy the pagan gods…just about everything.”

“It’d destroy the world.” She wondered if Castiel meant to let them loose on the world, like a wrathful god cleansing the planet sort of thing or if they were accidents. If the former, he needed stopped before he could let more loose. If the latter, he needed to clean up his mess. “Do you think he’s letting them loose on purpose?”

Dean glanced at her, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Even with everything else he’s done, I don’t want to believe he’d intentionally let something like this out. Then again, he’s not too rational anymore.”

In the other room, Sam stirred, clearing his throat. The couch springs squeaked as he moved.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Jo.”

“You’ve known him longer. You know him better.”

“I thought I knew him,” he replied with a frown. “Turns out I don’t think I ever did really know Castiel.”

They talked for awhile longer, speculating on why the mist was going after the people Castiel had healed -- if Crowley’s information was right. Without the hard data themselves, they were all hesitant to come to any conclusion, but their general opinion was that Castiel healing those people had marked them somehow in a way the PD’s knew they could exploit. Sam started looking into Crowley’s information while Jo and Dean worked on making lunch.

Jo hoped Sam would be successful in finding the information because going off of what a demon said bothered her, especially when that demon was Crowley.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen found a picnic spot a ways off one road and parked. She took out a thermos of coffee and a book in case Castiel wasn’t inclined to show up right away, and sat on one picnic table. She called for him and waited. While she didn’t particularly want to have anything to do with him at present, she did this because Dean had asked her to.

She’d read several chapters and gone through most of the coffee when she felt a breeze rise up and heard his voice.

“Ellen.” He appeared several feet away, watching her with wariness. To her, he looked as sick as he had on the TV screen during the baptismal ceremony. Getting up from being dead hadn’t improved his situation.

“Castiel.” She turned down the corner of her book and set it aside.

He slowly circled the table she was sitting on before asking, “Why did you call me?”

“To see how you’re feeling.”

His smile was rueful and more than a little sad. “You don’t care how I’m feeling.” His voice was raspy, like his throat was sore and talking only hurt it. “None of you do.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve repeatedly threatened both you and Jo with being returned to dust. I contemplated taking Jo’s memories. I pushed Sam’s wall down. I have lied on occasion.”

He knew his sins at least. She placed her hands on the table behind her and leaned back a little. “All true facts,” she agreed. “I do care, though.” In a sort of ‘how sick is he and how can we use it’ way. Nearly erasing who Jo was hadn’t endeared him to her at all. “Are you hurt?” His breaths were shallow and she got the feeling he was holding on to himself by a bare thread and that thread would soon be ready to snap.

“In a way.”

“How can God be hurt?”

He shook his head. “You know I’m not God, Ellen. I think you’ve known for awhile, too. You tend to see things like that….” He took a few steps to one side and turned back. “I’m being watched. Right now. I can feel it.”

It was a paranoid statement, said with a shifting of his gaze left and right, then up at the sky. “By the world?”

“No. I don’t count them. I’m being watched by something I can’t see, which I don’t understand because I see everything like a god does. This presence is out of my sight, though. I know it’s there. I feel it seeing everything I do. Watching.”

“How long have you felt it?”

“Awhile. Can you feel it?”

All she felt was the sun and the breeze. “No.”

“Oh. I’d hoped you would.” One hand raised, fingers sliding across his forehead. “Pain. Like a migraine stabbing at my temples and eyes.” His shoulders hunched, that hand dropping back to his side. “You didn’t come here and call me out of your own desire to know my welfare. I know that. I accept that. Dean asked you to because you all want to kill me.” The tiny laugh that left him was tinged with desperation. “Everyone wants to kill me. Demons, angels…. They worked together, you know. Crowley promised them my head on a platter.”

She’d known Crowley had tried to kill him, but hadn’t known angels had been involved. There was no doubt in her mind that he was sick and very much so. His pasty skin, the hint of sweat. Ellen would bet he was feverish and suspected nausea as well due to how he rubbed his stomach and would swallow like he was forcing something back. His conversation was rambling, as if he couldn’t keep his mind focused on one subject.

“I could apologize for things I’ve done, but it’d do no good, would it? I’m without.”

“Without?” She shook her head in confusion. What was he talking about? “Without what?”

“Hope. A prayer. Forgiveness.” He laughed. “I’m without. Fill in the blank.”

She eased from the table to stand. His manner was frightening, her heartbeat quickening as he continued, his voice earnest.

“I’m not sorry I raised you and Jo, you know, not sorry at all. You’re a good gift I was able to give Dean. You know, I’ve tried so many times to fix Sam’s mind and I can’t do it. It’s a puzzle. Do you like puzzles? I used to like them, the way the pieces fit together to form the complete picture in the end. Now, I hate them. I despise those pieces I can’t fit together and I can’t force them together with all of my powers.” His lips parted and he dry heaved, finally stumbling back. “Goodbye, Ellen.” He disappeared from view.

Her assessment? He was sick and scared, getting desperate, and she told Dean as much when she got back.

“Sick as in physically or mentally?”

A car approached and she heard a door slam outside. “Physically sick. He’s also showing signs of paranoia, talking about how he was being watched --”

“He had those before he took in the souls.”

“Oh. Well, my opinion is he’s failing fast and he knows we want him dead. You might try calling him yourself if you want more information. You might get more out of him.” But she could see from his expression that he didn’t want to be the one to call Castiel and deal with him.

The door opened, Bobby coming through into the house. “You owe me,” he said, slamming the door behind him. “You owe me big, Dean. I just suffered three hours with Connie.”

“And?”

“First off, her new best friend Margaret went on a personal spiritual retreat right after Cas got up out of the coffin. She doesn’t know where, only that it’s isolated so Margaret can reflect on her faith.” He rolled his eyes in opinion of that.

“She’s gone into hiding,” Sam translated.

“You got it.”

“So our window of opportunity to get Meg is gone.” Sam shot an almost irritated glance Dean’s way.

Ellen saw Dean stand up a little straighter, but ignore the criticism. “Go on, Bobby.”

“Connie was thrilled to talk to heathen like me and have the chance to convert me. I got the tour of the church, and heard an earful about how wonderful Castiel is. Nothing useful, of course. I had to tell her I needed to think and reflect before I took such a big step.”

“What about the Sheriff?”

“Hasn’t gotten back to me yet. She’s a little busy.”

Little changed over the next few days. Reports of the PD’s continued to trickle in, with sporadic reports of panic in isolated areas. Ellen wondered if whatever spell Castiel had put over the world to stop panic was failing as his body failed. Should be interesting to see what happened when he was eventually gone. Would panic slide over the entire world?

~~~~~~~~~~

With as much done towards Castiel and the PD’s as possible, Sam and Dean set out to work a few jobs. Jo didn’t come with them this time, though Sam knew Dean had tried to convince her to come. She’d wanted to take over Sam’s project, however, checking reports of healing with later reports of an attack, then death. Sam had found several and, as three weeks passed, he knew Jo had found enough to make Crowley’s information seem right.

During those weeks, they moved as fast as they could from one job to the next so they didn’t have to think about Castiel or the creatures he was leaving in the world. Sam had another medication and had come to the conclusion already that it wasn’t working the way it should. He was going to have to start a third one.

He laid in bed in the dark, the thought ringing his mind.

It wasn’t working.

With his eyes open, looking at the ceiling in the motel room, he waited for sleep. Instead, all he got was Lucifer standing at the end of his bed staring at him.

“You’re not real,” he whispered.

Lucifer cocked his head. “Are you so sure of that? I am real.” He paused for several long seconds, licked his lips and added, “Real to you.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over onto his side. He’d hoped this medication would be the one, but it wasn’t. He knew that already, after only a short while taking it. While Lucifer remained silent, Sam could feel the hallucination shifting position to stand between the two beds.

“Sleep is such a human thing. Your weak, feeble bodies and minds need rest to repair. A sign of how pathetic you all are. That soul inside you gives you that fragility.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer staring down, not at him, but at Dean. The sight disturbed him more than if he’d been staring at Sam himself.

“Do you remember being without your soul, Sam?”

Of course he did. He’d reintegrated that part of himself. Lucifer knew that.

Lucifer’s sigh was wistful. “You were almost perfect then. You didn’t sleep, ate because you thought you had to. Quite a team we would have made, an even more perfect vessel than you already are if not for the fact that angels need a soul in residence. Even I have no way around that.” He looked over his shoulder at Sam, a small smile forming. “But you have your soul again, don’t you?”

He drew the covers up.

“You have your soul and you pulled the pieces of yourself together when Castiel pushed down the wall. Except for me. You left me out in the open. Why are you being stubborn, Sam? Why won’t you make me a part of you again? Why do you keep me out?”

“You’re not real. You’re not a piece of me. You’re just a hallucination.”

Lucifer sat on the bedside, the mattress dipping. “I think you’ll get tired of this eventually, of denying me and what I am to you. You’ll bring me back into you and we’ll be whole again.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to be joined with you again. But until then…. Let’s play.”

His hallucinations began then, as terrible as they’d been that day with Ellen and Bobby after Chuck had gone. Images slid into each other, over and over, until he knew, suddenly, that he was asleep and dreaming.

“Sam. Listen to me.”

The voice was urgent, the same voice he’d been hearing in his dreams. He blinked. He was on the floor, curled up, waiting for the next long stretch of torture to begin. He could see bloody stripes crisscrossing his arms.

“I can only do it if you ask me. You know that. ”

Michael crouched down beside him, his grin menacing, the pleasure in Sam’s pain obvious. He shoulder shifted, giving Sam a brief glimpse of another Michael, the one he understood that the voice came from, his arms crossed and wings spread wide, a splash of white in the filthy ugliness of the cage. Just below the feathers on the right, he could see Adam’s piece of the cage, protected from harm.

The shoulder obscured his vision again, pain beginning anew and Michael’s face growing larger in his vision.

“Sam.”

He woke with a jerk. It was day already and he heard the shower running.

The dream began to fade even as he struggled to hold on to it, desperate to keep that…what?…memory?…from disappearing. If it was a memory, then it hadn’t been Michael torturing him, but rather Lucifer wearing Michael’s face.

He knew he had to remember that, but it was so hard to keep it in focus….

“Boy, I feel refreshed,” came Lucifer’s voice from the bed beside him. He was lounging on Dean’s bed, his hands behind his head. “Nothing like a good night’s sleep, is there, Sam?”

He stared at his hallucination a long moment, then reached for his pills.

Michael hadn’t tortured him.

Sam tested that thought in his mind a few times and, each time he said it to himself, it rang of truth. Michael hadn’t participated in torturing him which meant it had been Lucifer all along. While he felt a little stronger for keeping that knowledge from fading, why was it important he remember that?

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was looking through the stack of papers Jo had handed him upon their return when Castiel appeared.

“Hello, Dean.”

He set the papers down and leaned against the desk. Bobby was out working and they had a short while before Sam, Ellen, and Jo would be back with dinner and he studied Castiel the way he’d asked Ellen to three weeks earlier.

She was right. Castiel was in a bad way. Pasty, pale, and sweating. Three signs of illness. “You know it was Crowley, right,” he blurted out. “The one who tried to assassinate you?”

Castiel sighed and sat down in one chair at the table. For a second, he seemed like his old self. “I’m aware of his treachery.” He laid one arm on the table and spread the fingers of that hand out. His fingers trembled. “He’s been trying to figure out how to kill me for months now.” One brow raised. “Like you, Sam, and Bobby. Now Ellen and Jo.” Candor flickered in his eyes. “I’m aware of that as well.”

“Do you blame us?”

He considered the question and finally shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

The answer surprised him and Dean blinked. He hadn’t expected Castiel to be able to look back and see that mistake he’d made. “You don’t?” Slowly, he moved forward.

“I’ve not been as balanced in my rule as I should have been. I’ve focused more on keeping you all in line than on my affection for you.” He patted the table. “Tell me, Dean. Are you honestly happy with Jo? Has your life improved with her in it?”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.” He swallowed twice, a noisy gulping sound.

“Sure. It’s been nice having Jo and Ellen around. Nice they’re alive. What’s this about, Castiel?”

“Has Sam’s life improved with them here?”

“Sam’s life would be improved the most if you’d heal him.”

Castiel sighed and looked away. “I’m not here to talk about that.”

“What are you here to talk about?” He didn’t feel like toeing the line today.

“I wish to just talk. We used to talk, Dean.”

“Are you serious?” Talk? Was he back wanting to go get beers together?

“Yes.”

Dean rubbed a hand along his neck. “We can’t go back. We can’t do the friend thing.”

“Why?”

“You have to ask? You went dark side, Cas. You broke my brother and kept poking at him. You refused to let go of the purgatory souls, called us insignificant, started smiting people in your name, changed the rules for everything you could get your hands on…. Oh, and you’re spitting out things that are changing the makeup of the human body and turning us into monsters. They’re everywhere. Did you know that? Are you aware of how many of them are showing up?”

“I am.”

“Why should I sit here and talk with you like we’re buddies? The buddy ship sailed the day you started lying and crashed when you broke Sam’s mind just to distract me. We’re not friends.”

He looked up at Dean with a hurt expression. “I gave you two friends back that you dearly missed, gave you a chance to have a functional romantic relationship within your lifestyle --”

“Ordered Jo to just stop being a big part of who she is to achieve that.”

“I ordered her not to hunt so she’d stay safe for you. My plan was not supposed to be to her detriment. It was to keep her safe and keep you from worrying about her.” His voice steadily rose as he spoke and he coughed when he finished, a hacking cough that sounded painful, on hand covering his mouth.

“I worry about her anyway.”

“Oh.” Castiel swallowed again, another gulp.

The ‘oh’, said like he didn’t understand pissed Dean off. “Oh. Oh? Do you have any idea why I worry about her now? I worry because she’s dying in that role you shoved her into. It’s killing her to sit around doing nothing all day. She’s a hunter, that’s her job, and I want her out there with me, with Sam, with Ellen or Bobby. I want to see her happy again and she’s not happy.”

Castiel blinked, licked his lips, and cocked his head. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized her being completely safe at Bobby’s house would be worrying for you.”

It was almost sarcasm. Almost, but not quite. Dean clenched his jaw tight.

“As for your points…. The souls gave me power and insight into the world I’d lacked.” One hand moved to his stomach and rested there. “They were necessary to defeat Raphael and the world needed a leader. Heaven needed a leader.”

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, and not Dean, of that. “So you decided it had to be you and declared yourself God. Nice.”

“You are insignificant as a whole, Dean. The human race is like ants and always has been to creatures of a higher order.”

“Thanks. Makes our former friendship so much more special to know you lowered yourself from your towering place up high,” he illustrated using both hands, “down to the position of an ant. I’m touched. Really.”

“You’re being irrational. I’m stating a fact.”

“Your facts are skewed. If we’re all ants, why did you bother rebelling against your brothers for any of us? Do you remember that? I do. You rebelled for us.”

There was a flash of irritation in his eyes. “I rebelled to help you.”

“And I’m human which means I’m an ant according to you. The question stands. Why did you rebel for an insignificant species? For that matter, why do you bother trying to govern us at all? Head off planet. See the universe. Let us piss ourselves since we’re worth so little in the scheme of things. No reason for you to care if the ants destroy themselves and their home, is there?”

He sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. “You’re quite frustrating at times, Dean.”

He spread his arms and shrugged. “If I’m so frustrating, step on me. I’m an ant. You can play with a million other ants or, hey, here’s a thought.” He pressed his index finger to his lips, then pointed at Castiel and shook it. “Step on me, then bring me back, and repeat it a few hundred times.” As the conversation had gone on, Dean realized he was no longer afraid of Castiel. What he was was angry. “Or how about this? You start manning up to every single mistake you’ve made since that civil war started, including breaking Sam.”

Castiel stood and stepped close. His eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to start throwing stones in the mistake department? I believe there’s a saying about stones in glass houses that could easily apply.”

He’d made his share of mistakes, sure, but he did own up to them. He was in the right here, not Castiel. Dean stared at him, refusing to be the first one to blink, though his eyes were drying from staring.

He won that little contest, Castiel stepping back. “Perhaps our talk should happen at a later date. After you’ve calmed down.”

“I’m perfectly --”

He was gone.

“You dick. That’s it. Run away when you start losing an argument!”

It had felt good to be angry, but he had to wonder if Castiel was going to return and try to discipline him.

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew Dean was angry with him and had left their discussion only because keeping calm would have been more difficult as they spoke. He had to remain calm to keep the Purgatory creatures inside. Any strong emotion made them spill out and he was fast losing all control over himself. He could barely do anything now without losing some of the mist. He couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. At the rate it was going, he suspected he only had a few months at most left with the souls inside him. Who knew what would happen after that?

He felt a mix of fear and anger. Fear for what he now thought was happening to him and anger that he was being made helpless and vulnerable. The fear was the worst. It crawled up his back and hugged him. He wasn’t God and since he wasn’t, it stood to reason that he’d never attained that state and had merely thought he had. He could be hurt or killed. Castiel was losing everything he’d gained and was very afraid of what had to be coming next.

He wandered about Sioux Falls for awhile, invisible to most, finally deciding to visit Constance.

Castiel paced in Constance’s living room, waiting for her to arrive. He thought he should give her some instructions for the church, long range plans. It would be the prudent course of action in case…. He forced himself to finish the thought. In case something happened to him. In case this illness was leading to his real death.

“Hello, Castiel.”

The voice was low and sultry, playful. Definitely not Constance. “Meg.” He turned.

“My former little tree topper gone supernova.” She smiled. “Just look at you now. Strong and sexy.”

He almost laughed at that. He was hardly strong anymore, though he was still hanging in at the top. “What do you want?”

“I want to deal.”

“Deal?”

“You’ve got a problem.”

“Do I?” He had several. Which was she referring to?

“Yes. Crowley. You know…. The one who tried to assassinate you?” She said it like she thought he didn’t know.

“Not your concern.”

“But he is my concern, Castiel. He’s on my throne taking up space.”

“Your throne,” he repeated. This should be interesting.

“Yes, mine. I was Azazel’s heir, his beloved daughter. I should be on that throne down below, but Crowley weaseled his way in and stole my place.”

None of that meant anything and he knew it. Demonic politics were a million times worse than the worst of human politics. Practically every demon thought they should be on that throne as king or queen. “Let me guess. You want me to get rid of him.”

“You always were a smart one.” She stepped closer. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You rule here and I’ll rule below. I promise I’ll be an obedient girl and follow every rule you can give me.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’re the submissive type.”

“I can be and, baby, if you ever fall, I’ll make you my king and you can help me rule hell. I’d make sure none of them can put a hand on you. That’d be my privilege. It’s a win-win no matter what happens.”

“Why would you do anything to help me?”

She moved even closer, a hand stretching out to slide across his chest. “Because, silly. I believe in you. Did you know that? I’ve been part of your church since the day it was formed. Funny, isn’t it? A demon in church, but I went. I went every service just to serve you. I’ve shown my devotion to you. Ask anyone. Ask Constance. Crowley on the other hand…. He has no real vision. He’s actively trying to kill you.”

“And you never would.” He was finding it harder to see her true face nestled beneath the host she was using. While that in itself alarmed him, he noticed how pleasing the features and form of her host were. She’d picked a pretty young woman way back when she’d chosen this one, a woman who was of just the right height to fit well against him.

“I know an advantageous thing when I see it. We could be each other’s advantage. Think about it. You and me forever. Ruling creation.” Raising up, she pressed her lips to the side of his mouth. “We could be good together, Castiel.” Another kiss was placed to the other side of his mouth. “And by good I mean so hot we could set the world on fire.” Her lips brushed his, tongue flicking out to swipe across his mouth.

He felt the same sort of stirring inside him he’d had when he’d kissed her months earlier. Castiel remained still, resisting the urge to pull her against him. Where was the urge coming from? Why was he feeling it? That kiss he’d given her rose up in his mind, replayed over and over.

“You’d enjoy all the things I can do to you and we can do together. I’ve learned a lot in centuries, things I’m completely willing to share with you.” She loosened his tie and pulled it off, sliding it slowly away and dropping it to the ground. “This could be a new beginning for both of us. You can’t imagine all the wonderful, carnal things I have to teach you.” Meg reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Among other things.”

That he was actually listening to what she was proposing horrified him. Disgust welled up and he grasped her arms, shoving her away so hard that she stumbled and fell. “You’re an abomination. I’ll never ally myself with you.”

In slow degrees, rage mottled her features. “You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re not. Look at yourself.” She got up from the floor. Her contemptuous gaze slid over him. “What are you now? Polluted. Dirty. You fell, Castiel. That grace you had is long gone. You’re just as much of an abomination as I am.”

“No,” he protested while knowing deep down inside him that she was telling the truth. He was all those things. He’d become a monster and that was what he was in Dean’s eyes now. Just another monster Dean had to figure out how to put down.

Self-loathing mingled with his disgust at her, the spirits inside him beginning to surge.

“Yes.” Her smile was sly. “You deliberately sullied yourself. You made that decision. No one forced you to, no matter how you may look at it. You took that step all by yourself.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? I don’t think so. You did ally yourself with Crowley to begin with, remember? How am I worse than him? We’re both demons. Tell me, Castiel, why haven’t you already dealt with Crowley? I’d think trying to kill you would mean his instant death the second you woke up, yet he’s still out there.” She tilted her head. “Is it because you can no longer find him? It’s only reason I can think of for why you tolerate him alive, because what use can you have for the demon who tried to kill you and nearly succeeded?”

“It’s not your business.” She was right. He could no longer locate Crowley with a blink or even a snap. He could barely locate anyone, even Dean. One more power failing him.

“Hell is my business and he’s calling himself king which makes him mine. Think really hard before you refuse what I can do for you.”

“I don’t have to think. You can’t hurt me.”

“Can’t I?” She stepped back. “Care to bet on that?” Meg fled.

He stood still, contemplating her threat. His hands shook and he felt that familiar roll of the Purgatory spirits inside him. What could she do to him? He wasn’t sure her threat was real. Castiel began to pace, thinking back, trying to figure out what Meg thought she knew that would hurt him. He became more and more frustrated. Minutes passed, his thoughts turning in circles, the minutes flying by faster.

“Castiel?”

To his left came the tap of heels on tile. Constance had returned. She took her coat off and came to him, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Are you okay?” She stepped in front of him, looking up at him. Constance gasped. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Castiel pulled away and disappeared from her view, throwing himself from her house. He landed somewhere on Bobby Singer’s property. His control over himself was tenuous at best and he fought against losing control. It was a losing battle. The purging began and he couldn’t seem to get his control back once it started.

~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, Jo grabbed her jacket and set out down the lane towards the field. As she walked, she thought of the Purgatory demons and how fast they were gaining ground. Every day that passed brought in new reports. She kept hoping they’d find some way to fight them. Reports of panic were increasing, videos of the changed humans showing up again on YouTube. Whatever curtain had been over the world regarding the creatures was lifting.

She kept her eyes on the field as she walked and was nearly to the fence when someone cleared their throat ahead.

Jo looked up. Meg was at the fence, leaning against it like she’d been waiting awhile.

“Relax. I’m not here to hurt you,” the demon drawled.

Jo took a step back from her. “Then why are you here?”

“We never did get our little talk, but that’s not on the agenda anymore because I think I know how you’re alive. I’m betting the former angel pulled you down. Talk in some circles says you’re even Dean Winchester’s whore. That must bite considering you were a hunter before.”

“I’m not --”

Meg waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I have information for you and you want to listen to me, Jo.”

“After the lies you told me last time we really talked? About my dad and John? About Dean?”

She smiled. “The first wasn’t a lie. An exaggeration perhaps, but not a lie. The second….” She shrugged her brows once. “Maybe I stretched the truth a bit. I had to have some fun and you were so smitten I couldn’t resist.”

Jo shook her head. “I won’t listen to anything you tell me.”

“You should consider my intel. I’ve helped out on occasion. Ask the boys.”

“When it served your own interests.”

“Still helping. It counts.” She spread her hands, gestured. “I want to help you here, Jo.”

“And how will you telling me anything help you?”

“For one, it’ll give that former angelic prick something to think about. He thinks I can’t harm him? We’ll see about that. Listen.” She pushed off from the fence, gave the field around them a long look, and lowered her voice. “I’ve been observing Castiel for months now.”

“Stalking him.”

“I call it observing. It’s why I came here to Sioux Falls. He hangs around here a lot and sucking up to Connie didn’t take all of my time. I had plenty left to watch him when he showed up. Believe it or not, I really don’t give a rat’s ass about you being dead or alive. Doesn’t matter to me unless you try to kill me. Are you…planning on trying to kill me, Jo?”

“Not right this second. Maybe tomorrow.”

She laughed. “He may have been full of power in the beginning, but those days are done. He’s losing those creatures faster than he can replace the energy and power they gave him. You can see it if you watch him closely.”

Jo mulled over her words, then asked, “He’s bleeding out?”

“Big time. Now here’s the kicker. Whenever he shows emotion, he loses control over himself and those things come spilling out. Emotion, especially high emotion like anger, makes those things pour like Niagara Falls. Won’t be long until he can be killed by conventional means. The Colt did a number on him. Whatever is happening to him appears to have sped up when Crowley shot him. He’s been bleeding heavily since he got up out of that stupid glass coffin Connie insisted on. I’ve been following him closely since he rose. He’s not as observant as he thinks.”

“I thought you wanted him?” Jo took a few steps to the left, not taking her eyes off Meg. “Now you’re talking killing him.”

“No one likes rejection, Jo. Least of all a demon and least of all from an abomination like him. I may be a demon, but I have my place in things. But him? He’s an abomination that was never supposed to be in the first place.”

Jo read between the lines. “He turned you down.” A woman scorned was never a good thing, but a former woman who was now a demon scorned? Doubly bad. Meg was wanting to give Castiel both barrels several times over if her intel was any indication.

“Yes.”

“And you came to me because…”

“We’re both women here. Or at one time we both were. I came to you out of sisterly solidarity. We both --”

“Bullshit. What’s the real reason you came to me? I’m not buying that sister crap. Why me specifically? You could have gone to any of us and you chose me.”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say I think it’s justice for the woman that he raised to be Dean Winchester’s sex toy to know his secret. You could be his downfall, sweetie.” Meg began walking away. “Do what you want with the information. I’m taking a vacation for awhile.”

Jo watched until Meg was gone, then started back to Bobby’s house. She’d almost reached the main lot when she saw a large cloud of gray shoot up into the sky. Curious, she searched for the origin.

It was Castiel.

He was on his knees, the cloud pouring from him and when it stopped, he collapsed to the ground.

Slowly, she moved forward.