Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 20

~~~~~~~~~~

I’m dying.

The thought surfaced as pain cramped Castiel’s stomach. His emotions had a heavy price. He vomited gray mist so hard that his temples throbbed with pain and his limbs shook. He felt like it was never going to end, but it finally, blessedly, did.

When it was over, he lay still in the cool grass, letting the cold soothe his body. Cas pressed his cheek to the grass, smelling the scents of earth, rain, and grass. There was a very faint metallic taste in the back of his mouth. He’d been dealing with this sickness for what felt like forever now and he wanted it over with. Surely there’d come a point when it was done, or was he going to spend eternity like this?

He couldn’t think clearly, his mind a jumble of different thoughts that bled into each other.

Slowly, he became aware of someone approaching with a soft tread. Boots came into view and he looked up to see Jo watching him with curious eyes. She circled his prone form, studying him, keeping her distance and drawing a knife -- that same knife that he’d retrieved and given to Dean to keep for her. He should have known Dean would give it right back to her. Why hadn’t he realized that?

Arrogance. That was why. He’d been arrogant enough to believe that Dean would obey him on anything when it was far from the truth. Dean hadn’t even obeyed the angels as a whole. He’d been there to witness that, even assisted Dean in alternative plans. Why had Castiel thought Dean would obey him? More arrogance. Because he’d threatened him and Jo both.

Silly, he understood now. He’d been silly in his assumptions and began to feel regret inside him.

He was reminded of Dean and Sam in the way she moved around him. That look on her face indicated that she’d been a witness to his fit and was processing what it all meant. She was understanding just how sick he was.

Jo was dangerous.

He saw it in the slow, satisfied smirk that turned her lips and in the slight lift of her chin.

This was bad. He had to make her fear him again, or something, to keep her from telling them. He had to stop her from making those deadly connections that would give them everything they needed against him.

“Jo.” Castiel stretched out a hand to her boots, desperation scurrying through him. Perhaps he’d talk to her, make her understand, convince her to look the other way this once…. She waited until he almost touched them before taking a deliberate step away.

Anger rose at that movement and his temper slipped. Forcing himself up, he reached for her, though his insides still cramped with unceasing pains and he felt like he was being engulfed in fire, sweat dampening his clothes. He’d do what he could with the powers he had left.

Only there were no powers, he discovered. He couldn’t even glimpse one memory. Touching her forehead was like touching a dead thing. No connection was formed, nothing. There was nothing he could do and he saw her realize that as well.

No. No.

She needed to be distracted from that, made to reconsider telling them anything. Desperation was like a bug crawling inside him, never ceasing in movement. He had to do something, but what?

~~~~~~~~~~

The satisfaction that sparked inside Jo upon seeing Castiel hurting was immediately replaced by surprise that Meg had told her the truth. Imagine that. A demon telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Dean had once told her they would sometimes if they thought it’d mess with a person. This didn’t mess with her, though. It was actually helpful.

She watched him, taking in the scene, her hand slipping inside her jacket to retrieve her knife. Jo held it, trying to decide if she should strike and where. The throat perhaps? One quick slice and he’d bleed blood and not just power. Could he heal from that? Did he retain healing capacity?

When he stretched out a hand to her, she stepped away, knowing that step was likely going to have consequences. She did it anyway, not wanting him to touch her, not the way he was. His hair was plastered to his head, wet with sweat and Jo imagined she could almost smell the obvious sickness on him, a small whiff of decay and rot.

He lurched to his feet and Jo was able to evade him for several steps, but then his hand caught her wrist, his grip hard and pinching. Jo was barely able to hold on to the knife, his fingers digging in, trying to force her to drop it. She fought him, raking the nails of her free hand over his skin, but he dragged her close, his other hand raising, two fingers brushing her forehead. Jo stared up at him with defiance, not sorry at all that she’d seen what she had.

Blood dripped down his cheek where her nails had cut him, a wound that didn’t heal as she watched.

There was a flicker of surprise, then anger and surprise again, his features taking on a ruddy hue. Castiel snatched his hand away and gulped in a breath. “On second thought, Dean prefers you this way. Willful, mouthy, and disobedient.”

Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, it had seemed…well…like he couldn’t harm her anymore and he was alarmed by that. He tried to cover it up with his words, to pretend like it was his decision, but she’d seen his expression. It had been clear. What he’d thought would happen hadn’t. Jo peered at him more closely, mind going over what that could mean for them. If he couldn’t hurt her, she was safer around him than she ever had been. It meant he was less powerful than he’d been in a long time and Meg was very right. It wouldn’t be long before he could be killed as easily as a human.

He took them both to Bobby’s house. She found herself thrust at Dean so hard that she stumbled and fell to her hands and knees on the floor. The knife fell, clattering and sliding.

“Control your wife or I will,” Castiel spat. “She’s messing with things she has no business in anymore.”

Dean ignored his words like he hadn’t spoken at all, crouched, and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“She’s on thin ice. Frankly, I’m disappointed in both of you. You either can’t or won’t keep her in her place --”

“Screw off,” Jo snapped at him. “I don’t give a damn what you think of me! You’re not a god. You’re not the God. You’re just another monster now with delusions of grandeur.”

“Control her,” he shouted at Dean, the words almost choked. His face reddened and hands clenching into fists.

“Or what,” Dean stepped so that Jo was behind him. “What are you going to do? Threaten her again? Threaten Ellen? Threaten all of us? Then do it already and leave.”

The ground began to shake, items falling from shelves to break into pieces on the floor. Jo grasped at Dean’s shirt to steady herself. There was a loud crash from outside of metal falling on metal and a terrible rumbling from beneath the house. Jo heard voices, Sam, Bobby, and her mother. The rumbling stopped and moments later, they appeared. Sam and Bobby from the basement and Ellen from upstairs.

“There’s a crater where my workbench was,” Bobby said, staring at Castiel. “Ground opened up, pulled everything down into it. I have a damn sinkhole in my basement.”

“Damn near took me with it,” Sam added. He had a bleeding gash on his temple, another on his left arm, and mud and dust on his jeans. His hands were visibly shaking.

Jo saw that her mother was also sporting cuts on her exposed skin, though Ellen didn’t say what had happened upstairs.

“Do you wish more, Dean,” Castiel asked, eyes wide, only he wasn’t looking at Dean. He was looking at her.

His desperation has never been more apparent, Jo thought. He’s not acting from malice, but anxiety. He’s trying to distract me from what I saw, force me not to say anything. He’s losing it completely.

“I could drown this house in rain and all of you with it, bring a tornado through to pull her up,” he gestured at Jo, “and spit her out, or,” he shrugged, “I could snap their necks and toss them outside for you to bury. Do you want more? Have I made my point? I will act. I will.”

Dean’s nod was stiff, jaw clenched, tight with anger.

Castiel disappeared and outside, wind started up.

“What the hell was that all about,” Ellen asked, sitting in the nearest chair to the stairs.

“I don’t know. Jo?” Dean turned to look down at her. “What did you do that got him so pissed?”

She could still feel Castiel there, that the sensation she sometimes had when he was watching them. It remained. He may have disappeared, but he was still there, listening, waiting to hear what she’d say, what she’d tell them. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you serious,” Sam asked, glancing at her, then back down at the cut on his arm.. “What happened that he thought he had to cause an earthquake?”

Bobby stepped closer. “Jo?”

She glanced at the window. The wind continued to whip up dust outside.

After a quick glance there, he seemed to understand and cleared his throat. “Maybe you two better just go to bed.”

Dean nodded. “You might be right. We’ll help clean up in the morning.” He led her upstairs and into the bedroom. As soon as the door was closed he again asked what had happened.

Jo went to the window and peered through the crack between the boards.

“Jo?”

When the wind died down and the crawling sensation between her shoulder blades ceased, she removed her jacket and set it aside. “I was coming back from my walk and I saw a cloud of that gray stuff going up into the sky. I wanted to see if it was him. It was. It poured out, sort of like watching smoke come up from a chimney, right into the sky. When it was over, he just dropped to the ground and laid there panting and moaning.”

“What were you thinking, going towards him when he was spitting those things out?”

“I’m wearing silver.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“Dean, he’s bleeding out,” she told him, moving to stand directly in front of him. “That’s what I was thinking as I watched him. I tried to figure out where I could cut him that would hurt him physically. I’d almost decided on his neck, when he reached out to me. I stepped back so he couldn’t touch me and it pissed him off.”

“Bleeding.”

“That’s what I saw. It’s what he’s trying to distract us from with those over-the-top threats. The earthquake. He’s losing powers and control for real and tying to hide it. It’s worse than it was.” She explained about his almost panicked expression before he’d seen her watching. Then, she told Dean about how he’d tried to do something to her and couldn’t, the surprise on his face.

“Are you sure he didn’t change his mind?”

“Yes. He couldn’t physically hurt me with his powers. He tried. I know he was trying and failing.”

“So you don’t think he’s letting those things out on purpose. You think --”

“He’s trying to keep them in and can’t, like his emotions. He can’t control it. All that earthquake and rain stuff is a desperate attempt to keep us in place. Shouldn’t he have been able to physically hurt us without using outside influences? Shouldn’t he have been able to raise a hand and send either of us across the room? If he’d been going to really snap our necks, he would have. He didn’t. He had to control the weather to hurt us. That’s something. That’s an odd choice of attack...unless it’s pretty much all he has left.” She smiled. “Think about that, Dean. Think about what it means. He’s out of control, knows it, and doesn’t want us to see it. He’s desperate.”

“Because if we understand what’s happening, we can hurt him. We can stop him.”

“Yes. Meg told me --”

“Meg? When did you see Meg again?”

“She showed up right before I saw him. She said that when he gets emotional, he loses control.”

He crossed his arms. “Putting Meg aside a moment….in theory, if she’s right and we piss him off enough, we can give the son of a bitch an embolism.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. The bigger the tantrum or emotional outburst, the faster he bleeds, the quicker --”

“He dies.” The hope in his eyes grew. “He dies for real and we’ll be done with him.” He uttered a quick laugh. “He has to know we’d realize that.”

“Hence the threats. I think he’s hoping we’ll feel too afraid to think about it.”

“Again, he has to know otherwise.”

“Probably he does somewhere in his mind.”

The hope in his eyes slid away and Jo saw it replaced with sadness. She knew what Dean was going to say before he even said it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The revelation Jo handed him was thrilling and exciting at first, until he thought about it. With Castiel acting irrationally, playing with the weather as his threats to them now, he could do things that were fatal as they tried to take him out. He could do things that were fatal as he attempted to warn them away. He could kill Jo and Ellen and then they’d be gone all over again. There were in infinite number of weather related ways he could kill them, too.

Dean grasped her arms. “I want you and Ellen gone.” He’d hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that.

She shook her head. “No, Dean --”

“He knows us, knows his threat won’t work, so he’ll be watching us even more. He’ll threaten us more. He’ll keep coming at us and if Meg told you the truth, we have to poke at him. We have to get him so pissed he blows up and I don’t want the two of you anywhere near when we poke him. I don’t want to take any chances on him retaliating against either of you. Jo, I mean it.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “We just got you back. I just got you back. I’ve got to know you’re alive out there away from him.”

She stepped closer, hands resting on his chest. “I can help. You know I can.”

“I know, but….” He hated to say these words to her again. “I don’t want your blood on my hands if this plan goes south and you know it might. He might take me and Sam with him when he blows.” Cupping her face, her swept his thumbs across her cheeks. “Please, Jo. Do this for me. If you died taking him out, I don’t know that I’d come back from that because it would be on my hands. If I can get you out to safety, I have to do it.”

“You two don’t have to do this alone.”

“You’ll be helping me by leaving. I’ll know you’re safe -- relatively anyway. Don’t tell me where you’re going. Change phone numbers and don’t call me or Sam or even Bobby. Cas could use the open line to find you. He’s done it to me often enough. Don’t share that number. Don’t let him use us to get to you. You do all that, you’ll save me a helluva lot of worrying about you. I can’t be concentrating on taking him down for good if I’m afraid he’s got you.”

“You’re talking about a complete break.” The breath she took shook, her chin quivering. “No. No!”

“Yes. Until he’s gone.”

“And how will we find you after? How will we know he’s gone if we’ve got a complete blackout between us?”

He’d been thinking about this, preparing for the possibility of getting them out. It had been on his mind a long time now, a thing he’d discussed with Sam, Bobby, and even Ellen in those moments Castiel had been on live tv. He’d never quite found a way to bring it up to Jo, knowing she wouldn’t want to leave. She’d want to stay and be a part of ending Castiel, but he couldn’t let her. He had to have her safe. This time, he would get her and Ellen out and before anything bad happened to either of them. “Mail drop maybe? Dad had a few and I know of one Sam’s kept active.”

“But we don’t have one.” She blinked. “We’ll get one. Then you could contact us. We’ll set one up, send the info to your drop. We’ll use an alias we haven’t ever used.” Her grip on his shirt tightened. “Coordinates. We can use coordinates whenever things die down. That’s how we’ll find each other. You send us coordinates to meet at.”

“Dad used to do that.”

“I know. Mom thought it was smart.”

“Then we’ll do that.” He embraced her tight, holding on because he knew the time to part was coming fast. The hours were going to fly by. “We can do this, Jo.”

Her response was slow. “Sure.” There was fear wrapped in that single word, a fear that they were over.

Drawing back, he shook his head. “Don’t think that way. We aren’t done. I swear we aren’t. This is temporary.” Tipping her chin up, he kissed her.

A floodgate of emotion opened wide and engulfed them both. If this was their last night, they’d make it worthwhile, something to return to in memories until they met again -- whenever or wherever that may be.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he left Jo sleeping and went downstairs. Ellen and Sam were on the couch and Bobby in his chair. None of them were asleep. They had the tv on low. When he came in the room, Ellen sat up.

“Dean?”

“Worst case scenario,” he said, trusting that they’d understand without further explanation.

Bobby leaned forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees and hands clasping. “You sure about this, son?”

“No,” Dean admitted. The urge to keep Jo close where he could see her was at war with his urge to send her away to protect her. She could get hurt either way. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” He licked his lips and bowed his head a moment. “Yes.”

Sam let out a long, slow breath. “Okay.”

Ellen covered her hand with a mouth, tears filling her eyes. She blinked rapidly, wiped them away, and nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

She got up, paused to grasp Sam’s shoulder, then moved towards Dean. Ellen touched his cheek and nodded again. “I do.”

They each had their part in the coming hours and he’d make sure Jo understood hers, too.

Dean returned to bed, and to Jo. He woke her. Dawn was coming fast and he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. They became reckless, a little careless, and when dawn arrived, Jo fled to the bathroom down the hall, returning later fresh from a shower and with eyes that looked swollen and red.

“I think he’s here,” she whispered. “I can feel someone watching when I’m in the hall.”

He knew she’d felt that before and trusted her on that. Still, he had to ask, “You sure it’s not nerves?”

“Definitely.”

“Then we proceed with caution.”

Ellen pretended like she was going on a solo hunt. She packed up one car, made a few comments about research she’d like done when she got back if Jo had time, and left. She’d made fake promises to call occasionally on the trip.

The morning felt heavy, like a weight bearing down on all of them and after they were done cleaning up the downstairs from the earthquake, Jo sat at the desk, making lists and notations on house listings. Periodically, she’d ask Dean a question on what he’d prefer and while he tried to concentrate, he couldn’t. He kept waiting for her to signal that the sensation was gone.

The day wore on, tension rising. Bobby headed outside to get a car ready for Jo. He’d be putting weapons and other provisions in it for her and if Castiel said anything, Bobby could always claim he was thinking about a taking a few days and working a job. That was a good thing about the cars he used. He tended to use a different one every time he left on a job, so packing a strange car wouldn’t matter.

By late afternoon, Dean’s nerves were stretched so thin that he was afraid he was going to snap any second. He paced the room to try to get rid of nervous energy. The skin on his back felt like it was crawling.

“Where is Ellen going?” Castiel’s voice came from the kitchen. “And what does ‘worst case scenario’ mean?” He stepped into view. His face looked thinner than it had been.

“Worst case means things can’t get much worse for us,” Sam told him. He was doing something with his phone. “We’re at the worst case.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what Dean meant. You’re planning something. It’s a plan. I remember how you talk. What are you planning?” He stepped forward. “Where is Ellen going?”

“On a hunt.” Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Weren’t you paying attention this morning? That was you standing around spying on us wasn’t it? You think we don’t notice?”

“I don’t spy,” Castiel denied. He wasn’t looking too steady on his feet, reaching out a hand to touch the doorframe.

“Of course you do. What other word is there for it, for listening to conversations that aren’t for your ears?” He argued with Castiel over that one word, pushing him a little. “Certainly sounds like spying to me.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Bobby came inside the house and went into the kitchen, ignoring Castiel.

“You’re trying to distract me.” Castiel coughed and swallowed. “Why are you hesitant to tell me where Ellen went? What is she doing?”

“Why do you care? Want to go spy on her now? Why does it matter where Ellen goes? You’ve never cared before. It was Jo you put a leash on and then you choked her with it.”

“Keep me out of this argument,” she called out as she joined Bobby in the kitchen.

Outside, the wind began to blow, a little at first, then faster and harder as the argument went on. “Tell me where she is,” Castiel demanded. He was paler than before, visibly swaying.

“No.”

“Tell me.”

Dean stepped close and stared hard at him. “Find her yourself.”

Turning, he went to Sam and held a hand over his head. “Tell me, or the last of Sam’s mind goes away.”

“Hey!” Sam evaded the hand and got up. “She’s headed towards Dallas, Texas. There’s what looks like a ghoul outbreak happening somewhere down there.”

Castiel’s lips thinned, but he lowered the hand and disappeared. The wind died down.

Jo let out a relieved sigh. “He’s gone. Finally.” She went upstairs and was back in a minute with her bag. Reaching for her boots, she put them on, then her jacket. “Guess that’s my cue. Now or never.”

Too soon. It was too soon for her to be leaving.

Dean cupped her face with his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips, hating that the gesture was so familiar for them now. It was much like the kiss in Carthage: tasting of tears and bittersweet with the knowledge that this was probably the last time they’d ever meet. “Seems like all we ever really have are goodbye kisses, Jo.”

She raised her own hands, touching his cheeks and forehead. “Priorities, Dean. What’s the priority here? We decided. You have to let me go, sweetheart. If we’re going to get out and you and Sam stop him, you have to let me go.” Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him, stroked his cheek one last time, and moved to the door. She was gone then and it was only them left with Bobby.

Too soon. She’d been his for too brief a time.

Jo would take a circuitous route to meet Ellen, one that could well take weeks. Ellen had gone north, then east somewhere and could be anywhere by now. Jo had assured him she knew where Ellen would eventually end up. Castiel had waited far too long to ask about Ellen. He wouldn’t find her. Nor would he find Jo. They were both gone.

We’re not over, he tried to reassure himself. When this is done, I’ll send her coordinates. She’ll come. We’re not over.

But Dean really did doubt that he’d ever see Jo again and the pain of that was as bad (and in some ways far worse) than when he’d realized that he was completely gone in Lisa’s memories. His heart ached, a very real physical ache. He was losing Jo all over again and he was the one who’d sent her away for safety. He wanted to call her back and never let her go again.

Sam slid his phone in his pocket. “Weather patterns took a sudden shift between here and Texas. Looks like severe weather on radar. It was clear a few minutes ago. He’s looking for her.”

A sign that Castiel had realized Ellen hadn’t gone where Sam had told him. Dean hoped anyway. He hoped they were right, prayed they were, and that they could do this.

“Well, do I have to kick you two in the ass to get you to leave?” Bobby’s voice was suspiciously thick.

In one fell swoop, they were losing everyone but each other and it hurt. The worst case scenario. It was time to return to the paranoia of times before the angels had come around and Dean knew it was best. Mail drops, coordinates, keeping quiet on the phones as much as possible.

Dean turned. “Bobby --”

“It’s all been said, Dean, now get your butts out of here before he’s done sending tornadoes across the great plain or whatever the hell he’s doing and you have a lot of explaining to do, most of it that’ll probably end in him killing you and raising you a few hundred times before he decides to listen to anything resembling reason.”

“He’s going to kill you, Bobby. You know that, right? You should leave, too.”

“We all got to go sometime.” He looked at Sam, who had gone very still, looking at something only he could see. “Now get out of here and make sure you protect your brother.”

“Been doing that all my life. Can’t stop now.”

“Good thing. He’s gonna need you, Dean.”

Going to Sam, Dean put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Sam?”

Sam looked at him, his eyes just out of focus. Slowly, they focused. “Dean?”

“Time to go.”

“Right. Bobby --”

“I know, kid. Back at you.”

The two nodded at each other and Dean steered Sam from the house. They were as prepared they could be. As they drove away from Singer Salvage, probably for the last time, Dean didn’t look back. They couldn’t afford to look back anymore.

He reached blindly for a tape and shoved it in, turning up the volume to a level Sam would normally protest about. This time he didn’t, and Kansas was with them as Dean drove along the highway.

Dean glanced at Sam. It was just the two of them against the world. Again.

“What?”

“What what?”

“You’re staring, Dean.” Sam looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah, well, you’re starting to look like a girl with that hair. Would it kill you to get a haircut?” It was an old argument between them, and a familiar one. He didn’t miss the grateful gleam in Sam’s eyes as he let Dean pull him into the old routine they had about his hair.

“Women like the hair, Dean.”

“Yeah, like you ever get laid. Monks come to you for advice on how to be chaste.”

The conversation went on and in it, Dean could almost see the ghosts of the men they used to be. Maybe some day those men could finally return.

Their first stop was to see Sam’s doctor. After that, they’d begin to hunt Castiel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby waited for Castiel to return with a sense of calm falling over him. He’d been through a lot in his life and while he didn’t particularly want to die, he’d do what he could to make Castiel even madder.

He turned on the computer and went to one of the weather sites Sam had bookmarked. It was updated frequently and he watched the weather system Sam had mentioned move in ways that had experts struggling to explain it. It moved in a search pattern, Bobby decided, back and forth, sweeping west and east as it moved north.

Getting up, he snagged a glass and bottle of whiskey, poured himself half a glass, and returned to the chair. It might take awhile, but he was sure Castiel would come back here when he couldn’t find Ellen.

Bobby had a drink for Ellen, then one for Jo, and one for the boys. He toasted them and their success, watching the storm system on the screen.

Time passed and he was half dozing when a noise outside startled him. He woke with a jerk and heard a light bulb shatter. Bobby stood and went to the window, looking out. All of his outside lights were out.

He knew it wasn’t Castiel, so who had come calling at this hour?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jody Mills hadn’t had an easy life for a few years now. She’d lost family and friends and recently lost friends and colleagues to the Church of Castiel. They were like Stepford people now, spouting the wisdom of the CoC.

Today? Today she’d lost her job and all because she’d refused to play ball. She’d stuck to her guns for what was right and that had bitten her in the ass.

She gritted her teeth and blinked fast, refusing to let them make her cry. They wouldn’t get that from her, not if she had any say in it. What some of them were pushing was wrong and she wasn’t going to be a party to it.

What should she do now? She sat in her car in her driveway, pondering that question. The few boxes of personal items from her office were in the trunk. They could go in the house. Jody didn’t feel like tripping over the CoC literature that plastered her doors, though. With her refusal to convert or make allowances for any of them, her house was always on their conversion stops. Their harassment stops, rather.

She’d gone to Constance about that a few times for other people in town and the woman had denied it. Jody had experienced it herself, however. Some of the CoC converts were nuts and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d heard it was happening all over the world, too. That church was getting out of control and it seemed like it was too late for anyone to do anything about it.

What she needed was to talk to someone who knew her, but who would listen to her concerns and know where she was coming from. Once upon a time, she’d had her pick of friends like that. Sadly, there was only one name left on her list who fit that criteria. Not really a friend, but more than an acquaintance.

Bobby Singer.

She drove to his house in silence, not turning on the radio because all that was on half the time were CoC ads, sermons, and music. She saw CoC members out and about, moving from house to house, and was glad when she turned onto the road to Bobby’s house. Shouldn’t be too hard to find him unless he was out of town.

Pulling up beside the house, she knew something was wrong without even leaving the car.

All the outside lights were out and his front door was open.

Bobby never left his front door open and if it was, it was a bad sign -- especially in light of what she knew of his life.

Taking her personal gun out, she got out of the car and moved towards the house. The door had been forced, the door jamb splintered. Jody proceeded slowly. The house and grounds were silent. Inside, she found Bobby on the floor, beaten and hurt, unconscious.

Jody called an ambulance. Those, at least, still came for anyone who called.