Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~

She’d dreamed of having Dean as hers.

Those were Castiel’s words and while there was truth to them, that entire truth was that that yearning was years earlier. At that point, she had wanted him and daydreamed about him more than a little. Time had given her the maturity to see that she’d just had one massive crush on Dean and her dream was a silly, immature thing because happily ever after wasn’t in any of their cards. Their life was hard, cruel, and thankless. She’d decided that if she was lucky, she’d find a hunter who’d partner with her (something like a steady relationship) until one of them got killed. No real thought of happily ever after at all, merely happiness of a sort while the time was there.

Castiel had decreed Dean that partner, only without the part about her doing any hunting.

Jo undressed while Dean went downstairs to get his bag and then to the bathroom to brush his teeth. She slid beneath the covers, drawing those covers up high over her shoulder and turning her back to the door. She hated that Castiel had put them in this position and if he thought that declaring them married changed anything or made that state a truth, he was deluding himself. A sexual relationship and marriage was their decision to make, not his.

Dean returned. She heard the thump of something on the floor, maybe his bag or maybe him taking off his boots, and then the rustling of cloth. Finally, the lights went out and the other side of the bed dipped with Dean’s weight. “Good night, Jo.”

“Good night.”

She hadn’t meant it to sound like she thought he’d jump her in the middle of the night, but he’d taken her single word and tone that way. How messed up was that? Was his self-esteem that low that he assumed people thought the worst of him? She knew he wasn’t that guy. He should know she didn’t think that.

With a sigh, she adjusted position slightly. The pain killer was beginning to make a dent in her headache and Jo closed her eyes, trying to relax and let sleep take her. She took slow breaths, but sleep wasn’t as fast arriving as she’d thought it’d be. Her mind kept returning to that look in Castiel’s eye when he’d gripped her chin and told her he was her god. Dean was right. The Castiel who’d been their ally was gone and she didn’t really want to contemplate what Castiel having god-like powers meant for them all.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Dean, she rolled onto her back. Dim light filtered in from a crack between the boards on the outside of the windows. The house was quiet and still and slowly, Jo drifted to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Bossy, nosy creature, isn’t he?”

For the most part, Sam was able to tune out Lucifer’s commentary as he talked with Ellen and did his best to put both her and Jo at ease, but sometimes, the words just caught his attention. Like now. Lucifer’s assessment of Castiel meshed with Sam’s own opinion. Castiel was being bossy and nosy, not to mention creepy and arrogant. These days, it seemed those things were all he knew to do.

Lucifer leaned against the doorway into the kitchen, watching whatever was going on there between Dean, Jo, and Castiel. “Why is he so concerned with Dean’s happiness, yet misses the mark completely on what could make him happy? This is such an easy thing to figure out, but…. Not very observant, is he?”

“What do you think is going on in there,” Ellen asked.

“Not sure,” Sam replied. Whatever it was, neither Dean nor Jo seemed happy about it.

What would make Dean happy, or happier than he was rather, was for Castiel to fix Sam’s mind. That’d make Sam happy, too, and that was probably why Castiel refused. He kept claiming Sam had betrayed him and that stabbing him in the back was the last straw. What did Castiel consider the rest of the straws then? Why did he think Sam had betrayed him at all? For trying to stop him at that point? Sort of a no-brainer because Castiel had been an immediate threat. Was it merely because he hadn’t remained horizontal with his mind completely scrambled? Or was it that he hadn’t come back intact when Castiel had raised him? Could that even be counted as some sort of betrayal when it hadn’t been Sam’s fault at all? Were there other reasons that Castiel, in his current madness, counted that weren’t real at all, but perceived?

Sam had thought they were close to being friends. He’d thought that all the times he’d made conversation with Cas had been something. Not the profound bond Cas had claimed he had with Dean, but something anyway. A fledgling friendship.

With a sigh, Lucifer sauntered to the desk and sank into the chair, putting his feet up right on the research Sam had been doing. At least a hallucination couldn’t get the papers there all muddy. “And there they go.”

Dean and Jo rushed past them, to the stairs and up them. Sam glanced back into the kitchen. Castiel disappeared.

“The happy couple.”

Returning his attention to Ellen, he saw her frowning in the direction of the stairs. “You feeling okay, Ellen?” Sam tightened his fingers around hers. All the while they’d talked, he’d noticed that she paused more than normal, like she was having to really think hard about her answers or what he’d said.

She started to smile and nod like she was okay, then let the smile drop away and shook her head. “Aww, hell. No. I can’t seem to really concentrate, Sam. I’m sorry. I just don’t feel right at all. Maybe it’s just being alive again.” She tugged her hand from his and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m tired, but I don’t want to go to bed. Does that make any sense?”

“Poor thing,” came Lucifer’s bored voice from the direction of the desk. “Castiel must have botched them up like he did you. Not that they’re soulless. They’ve got that piece of humanity inside them. It’s obvious. There are other ways to mess up a raising, however.” He snorted. “There’s a reason some angels were merely foot soldiers, if you get my meaning.”

Lucifer meant that Castiel was incompetent and always had been.

I don’t know that, he thought. I don’t know that some angels are slower mentally.

“Ahh, but you’ve suspected it, haven’t you? How slow he was to grasp human concepts. Practice makes perfect, even for the dim-witted. Maybe he should try to raise daddy or mommy next. See if he can get it completely right. What do you think, Sam? Maybe after that he can put Jess back together for you.”

The hallucinations of Lucifer (and other things) made Sam afraid for the safety of everyone around him. He didn’t even drive because he might hallucinate behind the wheel. He’d thought he and Dean had managed to beat them down. Dean had confronted him in the middle of one hallucination not long after he’d admitted having them and they’d seemed to stop. Then, one evening when they were on a job and Dean was out, Castiel had blown that little bit of protection away. He’d stepped right over to Sam, touched his forehead, and taken away that relief from madness. The hallucinations had returned and he’d returned to using pain to short-circuit them.

At least, he thought it was Castiel. It was entirely possible he’d hallucinated that part and his mind had just rebelled.

“Oh please.” Lucifer waved a hand. “It was Cas. Castiel wants you broken. You’re no threat to him this way and neither is Dean.” He heard footsteps and saw Lucifer stroll to one chair closer to them and sit. “But you know that, don’t you? Every time either of you starts to make progress on something that could lead to finding out how to deal with him, he throws a wrench in it.”

Between the tantrums and now this, Lucifer was right. Castiel was trying to keep them from doing anything against him.

“This is certainly an interesting turn of events,” his hallucination said in a conversational tone, indicating Ellen with one hand.

Sam looked away, trying to focus on Ellen.

“Why don’t we take a look at that hand now,” she suggested. She’d been wanting to look at it since she’d noticed it earlier and he’d promised to let her.

He held out his hand for her to unwrap the bandage he kept on it. She was gentle and careful. The constantly infected wound that wasn’t healing like it should bothered Dean and Bobby, but Sam hadn’t told them he’d been picking at it with each hallucination. He didn’t admit he was the one impeding progress.

Ellen hissed. “Damn, Sam. You should see a real doctor about this. How long’s it looked like this?” She prodded the raw edges he’d managed to tear open again.

“How long has Castiel been God?”

“This isn’t good. How many times have these stitches been broken?”

He snatched his hand back. “It’s healing. It’s just slow.”

Her brows rose. “Denial ain’t a river in Egypt, you know. You’ve got some bad infection growing. You change the bandage every day?”

“Yes. I know how to care for a wound, Ellen.” Quickly, he wrapped it back up and secured the bandage.

“Obviously you don’t because it won’t heal if you pick at it. That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? Does Dean know?”

“No.” Sam shook his head and sat back. “And he’s not gonna. He’s got enough on his plate without him thinking I’m gonna start cutting myself or something.” He’d think it, too. He’d run down a mental list of things Sam might do to keep up the pain level and wonder about each one.

“Are you?” She tilted her head to one side, gaze curious.

“No. There’s a difference between this and that.”

“I agree. So why are you messing with your wound?”

“It sometimes helps get rid of the hallucinations,” he admitted, watching her closely to see her reaction.

No censure slid into her gaze and she nodded. “I’ve heard of that, of people doing that, but if you keep picking at that wound and it doesn’t heal, you’ll lose the hand. The infection will spread and eventually get gangrenous, if it’s not mostly there already. After that, you’ll need an amputation. You want that?”

He didn’t answer because he thought the answer was obvious. Of course he didn’t want to lose his hand. She was right, though, and he’d known it in the back of his mind. But if he couldn’t use pain to stop the hallucinations, then what did he use?

Lucifer, ever one to hate being ignored, cleared his throat. “Think Dean and Jo are boinking up there yet? It’s human nature to get it on in high stress situations, isn’t it? Something about the affirmation of being alive.”

He swallowed hard and when a text came in on his phone, he grasped at that answer to his earlier query. “Ellen, I need to make a run to town. Come with and drive me?”

“Sure. Let’s go. I could use some fresh air.”

“Don’t ignore me, Sam,” Lucifer warned. “You never like the consequences when you do.”

When Ellen had gone to get a jacket, Sam hissed, “Go away! Leave me alone!”

“You say something, sweetie,” Ellen asked, coming back in the room, now wearing one of Bobby’s jackets.

“I was just….” He shrugged.

She arched a brow. “Talking to yourself?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Lucifer complained. “You’re hardly alone. You won’t ever be by yourself again, Sammy boy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “I’ll try not to do that. It freaks Dean out.”

“It’d freak anybody out, I think, yourself included by the looks of it.” She studied him. “You considered medication to control them? Might be something out there that can relieve it.”

“I’m just trying to find a balance and get through each day right now.”

They left the house, making as little noise as they could.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean lay still in bed as the morning sunlight peeked through the cracks in the boards covering the window. Jo was asleep beside him, curled up in a ball with her knees to her chest. Her back was bare to the line of her panties, no bra strap across it, and he realized she’d trusted him not to touch her in the night. Her denial of thinking he was the sort of guy who’d take advantage had been true. He’d jumped to a conclusion and she trusted him.

Lisa had trusted him and look where that had gotten her? How could it be any different for Jo? He was toxic. Just knowing him doomed a woman. He and Sam were both death for women.

His head throbbed with tension, his eyes ached, and he felt so very emotionally numb. Just another day in Cas world. This was what things had come to. In a way, this new world was just as bad to live in as trying to live for a year without Sam. Both were emotionally draining. Both taxed him to his limits.

It appeared the bedroom walls were a barrier Castiel wouldn’t breach. Good to know. How did he know that? Because if Cas had come in, he would have see that Dean and Jo had ignored his instructions. They would have been chastised already.

Good. He had a way to talk with Jo about what they were going to do about Castiel. It was talking to anyone else that was going to be the problem, but they’d figure out something. They had to. He, Bobby, and Sam had been trying to work out some sort of system since Castiel had declared himself God, yet each time they implemented their ideas, Castiel showed up. Perhaps fresh eyes, Jo and Ellen’s, were needed. He intended to utilize their skills as much as he could within Castiel’s restrictions.

Getting out of bed, he dragged on a pair of jeans before tucking the covers more securely about Jo. She looked vulnerable asleep and he almost touched her cheek, drawing his hand back before actually touching her skin. He turned, picked out clean clothes, and went take a shower. He’d let her sleep as long as she wanted. She’d need the rest to face what life was like with Castiel ruling the earth. She’d discover soon enough just how much things had changed.

When he returned to the bedroom, with the idea of leaving his robe out for her to wear, he found her awake and sitting up in bed. She pulled the covers tighter to her chest. “It’s real,” she said in a low voice. “I woke up and couldn’t figure out for a minute if it was real, if I really had died and been brought back.”

He pulled the robe from his bag and laid it on the end of the bed. “It’s definitely real.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Damn.”

He understood the sentiment. “Shower is free. You can use my robe if you want. I rarely use it. Sounds like Ellen and Sam are awake. I think Ellen might be making breakfast.” He took a few steps back. “Or you can stay in bed. Might be good for you to do that.”

“I have to get up. Do an inventory of what I left here, decide what I need since I’m, you know, alive again. A girl needs things.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I know.” He understood the sort of things she meant. Living with a woman for a year tended to make a man very aware of those items. “Come down when you’re ready.”

Dean went downstairs, discovering Ellen cooking up a storm in the kitchen. She had several pans on plus the electric skillet. Sam was staying out of her way. “What’s going on?”

“She felt the need to cook.”

Ellen poured a cup of coffee and brought it to Dean. “Here, sweetie. Brewed fresh.”

He grasped her arm before she could return to the stove. “Ellen, you don’t have to do all this.”

“I have to do something and right now…it’s cooking.”

It was a feeling he was familiar with. When Castiel had first begun to rampage about the earth, shaping it the way he’d wanted, Dean had worked on the Impala. He’d had control of that little corner of his world. This was Ellen’s way to have control at present.

“Sit down. I’ll have some pancakes done in a minute and there’s sausage and bacon, some eggs….” She shrugged and he released her arm.

From above came the sound of water running, then sobs. He cringed to hear Jo crying. Dean couldn’t remember ever hearing her cry before. It emphasized the surreal sensation he’d been having.

Ellen looked over her shoulder at him, a silent query as to if what she suspected had happened had happened.

He shook his head, saw the relief in her eyes, but wasn’t offended by it. He understood it. “Ellen --”

“You’re a better man than that, I know.”

Only he wasn’t, was he? He was a terrible man, his presence destroying lives all around him, like Lisa and Ben. “Do you?”

She filled a plate and brought it to him, setting it down. Her hand touched his cheek. “I know you, Dean. You’re a good man.”

“How do you know?”

“Because a lesser man wouldn’t be so torn up inside over everything that’s happened.” Ellen returned to the stove. “You want another pancake, Sam?”

“No thanks. The first full plate was enough.”

He was finished and drinking coffee with Sam, discussing one possible case Sam had found, when Jo came into the kitchen. Her face was still splotchy from that crying they’d heard, but there was a sense of purpose in her gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo listened carefully to the sound of Dean going down the stairs. Only when she was sure he was gone did she reach for his robe and pull it on. It smelled like him, of the comforting scent of his aftershave and she sighed. She felt comforted in the same way she did when she smelled leather. Leather was a reminder of her dad and of how he’d held her tightly whenever he’d returned from a trip. Whether Dean realized it or not, there was a comforting vibe to him.

At least, she thought so. He’d comforted her those brief moments in Carthage and despite admitting he wasn’t sure, he’d been so confident that the Colt could kill Lucifer…only it hadn’t worked and she and Ellen had died.

Tears welled up and she brushed them aside, stepping into the hallway on bare feet and going into the bathroom. She started the shower, hung the robe on the door hook and turned, facing the mirror.

Jo slid a hand along her side. Shouldn’t there be some scar, some sign of what had happened? It wasn’t erased simply because Castiel had chosen to put her back together.

But it was gone. A closer look revealed that all of her scars were gone, those tiny marks that showed some big mistakes on her part, reminders of things she’d learned the hard way. Anger pierced her. Those marks were hers and they were gone. She didn’t feel like herself without them, like this wasn’t really her body.

Castiel had no right to leave them off of her. They were hers and she wanted them back.

Steam from the shower swirled about her and she wrenched her gaze from the mirror. Thinking about it wasn’t going to change it. This was how it was now. Jo wondered if Dean and Sam had returned from death without former scars as well. She’d have to remember to ask later.

Getting in the shower, Jo stood motionless for long minutes beneath the spray. The sobs took her by surprise and she gulped in the misty hot air, her tears mingling with the water. Jo didn’t bother trying to hide them. She needed to let it all out and leaned against the shower wall. Slowly, she sat, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

She cried for the life she’d had, the world that was gone, and for Dean and Sam, changed by circumstances that were largely not of their making.

When the sobs stopped, she went through the motions of washing her body and hair, using men’s soap and shampoo and not really caring what it did to her skin and hair. She’d try to care later, after re-acclimating to the land of the living.

Strange how she felt better after a good cry. She felt like she could face the day and move forward.

Jo laid out the clothes she had available and made a mental list of the things she needed to buy. Jeans, a few shirts, socks, underwear, a set of pajamas, a winter coat. Then there were the toiletries. What she needed was a trip to a store, preferably a big chain store and a couple thrift stores.

Going downstairs, she grabbed her jacket. She’d had money stashed in a couple hidden pockets when she’d died.

It wasn’t there.

She checked twice, then checked the pockets of her jeans. Still no money. So how was she to buy those things she needed? Jo closed her eyes. Castiel couldn’t have brought her back with her money? Geez. She stepped into the kitchen. “Dean?” Jo crossed her arms, mildly embarrassed that she was even going to ask this. She didn’t care to borrow money from anyone. Ellen had instilled in her the importance of a woman having her own income of some sort.

“Yeah?” He poured her a cup of coffee and set it down on the table near her.

“Can I borrow fifty bucks? I’ll pay you back when I have it.”

He didn’t hesitate to take out his wallet, handing her a credit card instead of cash. “Here. Just got this one a few days ago. Get whatever you need.”

“No questions?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You mentioned you needed some things and Ellen was telling me her account information and cash is all gone. She and Sam checked up on it last night. Makes sense yours is, too.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t need to pay me back.”

She slipped the card in her jeans pocket and sat down, her back to the stove and cabinets. She saw Dean go out the front door and then Ellen was setting a filled plate in front of her. There was more food on it than she usually ate for breakfast and lunch combined. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re welcome.” Ellen finished cleaning up and went upstairs.

While Jo was eating, Sam came over and sat beside her, laying several pieces of plastic on the table. “Here, Jo. Used pictures from Bobby’s stash.”

They were i.d.’s, each with a different alias, the ones she favored. “You made these?”

“Well…. I know a guy close by. Dean and I know a guy. He made them. Ellen went with me. He did a rush job for the both of you. We actually got back about an hour before Dean came down this morning.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Sam. That was thoughtful.”

He nodded. “I know Castiel probably wants you to stay here, considering….” He glanced away. “Anyway, I thought if we ever needed you with us out on the road you should have options.”

The words were a jolt, reminding her that however normal and how she remembered Sam to be, he wasn’t that person any more. He suffered from hallucinations of Lucifer, the ultimate evil, and those hallucinations bled across everything he saw until the reality he saw wasn’t actual reality. That Sam was acknowledging it might be necessary to have a third person with them told her just how bad the hallucinations were. Sam knew and fully understood what was in the future for him.

“How often do you have them,” she asked as gently as possible.

He lifted one of the i.d.’s and studied it a moment before answering. “About once a day, sometimes more, sometimes less.” Sam glanced towards the living room, but Dean was outside, probably working on the Impala by now, and Ellen was upstairs taking a shower. Jo could hear the water running. He lowered his voice further. “I hate that Castiel can use me against Dean and does.”

Jo slid her plate away. She’d managed to eat about half the food on it. “No use in hating what we can’t change.”

He glanced at her, his smile rueful and sad. “I know. Can’t help it, though. We’re each other’s weakness and all the bad things of the world know it. All our allies have known it. Geez, even Lisa saw it.”

While she was intensely curious about Lisa, Jo didn’t press for information. Dean had relayed bare facts the night before, just enough to whet her curiosity about the woman he’d tried to retire with.

She got up, put her plate in the sink, refilled her coffee and returned to the table. Goose bumps raised on her forearms.

“Lucifer says we need to talk to Death about creating a cage and shove the imposter into it.”

Turning her head, she saw Sam’s gaze focused on one chair across from them. He appeared to be listening to someone speak. The weird part was that Jo really thought there was someone sitting there. Whoever had sat there last hadn’t pushed the chair in and it was slightly angled, away from the table.

It was creepy.

“I’m not sure Castiel needs a cage. I think he just needs to bleed out.”

“Sam.” Jo slowly laid a hand on Sam’s arm. “Sam.” She shook it.

He looked at her, gaze blank for several seconds before he blinked, shot a panicked glance at the chair across from them and tugged his arm away. A dull flush spread across his cheekbones. “I’m sorry. Sometimes it just happens.” By the way he was carefully not looking at the chair now, she thought it was still happening.

“Think you can find a car for me to use?”

His nod was slow and he appeared grateful for the task. “I’ll take a look.”

Jo remained drinking her coffee while Sam went about that task, her stare settling on that empty chair.