Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 32

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Sam was able to sit down in the cabin and relax, he was afraid the dream from earlier and the events that had occurred would have disappeared from his memory. It didn’t happen. It all remained fresh and he wrote it down in the notebook he’d been using as a journal. It wasn’t an official journal, merely a page or paragraph here and there of things he thought he should remember. He also noted Chuck’s appearances and that Chuck hadn’t been present for a couple days now.

When he was finished, he read back through it all.

His powers were different this time around. He’d known Meg was evil, his hand beginning to raise at the sight of her like a conditioned response to her evil. He’d had to force himself not to simply yank her from Constance’s body before getting answers. Yet with Eleanor Visyak, he’d had no such pull. He’d known she wasn’t evil and wasn’t going to follow through with her threat. His hand hadn’t raised in response to her and he hadn’t felt completely focused upon her, though he also knew he could have taken care of her if she’d become a threat.

How did he know the difference? How did he see the evil in one and no evil in the other? What part of him could tell? He’d described it as an instinct and it appeared that’s what it was. Instinct.

Sam looked down at his hands. They were normal hands, a bit scarred in places, but nothing different from anyone else’s hands. His held power, death to demons, and he didn’t need demon blood to access that power. Ruby had been right after all. This power had been his all along and he only had to figure out how he’d accessed it.

Maybe he didn’t need to figure that out? If it was really instinct, it’d be there when he needed to use it. What had turned that power back on? He recalled feeling drained of his power after killing Lilith and had done his best to forget about it. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of his folly in allying himself with Ruby. Had it always been there after that, lurking beneath the surface of him and he’d ignored it? Had some part of his scrambled brain switched on and kicked into high gear? He had to admit the power had been helpful against both kinds of demons. Frying the armies of both hell and Purgatory would make him a formidable enemy to them.

What should he do? He no longer desired the feeling of importance that destroying demons that way gave him. He didn’t want them to know his name for that; didn’t want the power or the responsibility that came with it. Sam was done with ambition. Look where it had gotten him.

He turned his thoughts to the dream instead. Closing his eyes, he remembered the round room and all the doors, then the sound of Michael’s voice. Had it been Michael this time or Lucifer, trying to trick him? If it was Michael’s voice, then what did it mean that he could hear him? Did it mean anything even?

The answer was there, Sam knew it was, but he couldn’t seem to form his thoughts around the facts clearly enough to interpret them and put it all together. He frowned, trying anyway.

He knew it was Michael’s voice, but then he’d been in the cage with both Lucifer and Michael. He’d heard it there. His mind could be drawing on that memory. Michael called to him, asked if he could hear him. Had that happened? Sam struggled to recall if that moment had occurred inside the cage, but all he had were the half-truths Lucifer had made him see. There were too many lies to sift through them and find the real moments.

What if that voice wasn’t a memory or his mind playing tricks?

Sam blinked, sitting up a little straighter. The fog surrounding his thoughts seemed to ease slightly, giving as he pushed back against it, determined to put something together that made sense.

What if he was really hearing Michael calling out to him from the cage?

The idea sent a chill through him and when Dean returned, he pretended to be writing, a whole new level of terror growing inside him.

What if he was still connected to the cage? And if he was, didn’t that mean that the Lucifer he’d seen and thought was a hallucination could be very real and very dangerous to him and all those around him?

~~~~~~~~~~

It was late when Dean returned to the cabin. Sam was still up, sitting on the couch and writing in a notebook. Taking off his jacket, Dean tossed it on the back of the couch and dropped down into the chair across from Sam.

“How’s Jo?” Sam closed the notebook. He looked pale in the low light and Dean thought he saw Sam’s hand trembling just a fraction.

“Wanted to move over here tonight. Had to do some fast talking to stop her.” His reasoning being that Ellie needed time to lead the PD’s far away. Tomorrow he’d move Jo and Beth here. “Why’re you still up? I thought you’d be sleeping after the, uh,” he made a gesture with one hand, “effort of earlier.” Meaning how Sam had used his powers against Meg. Sam had been hesitant to tell him, but at least he had told him. He wasn’t keeping what he’d done a secret. The entire powers thing still freaked Dean out and he knew that it was bothering Sam pretty badly.

“I’ve been thinking about some things.”

It sounded like the beginning of a conversation Sam wanted to have, but when he didn’t say anything more and the silence stretched out, Dean replied, “Me too.” Stretching his legs out, he sighed. “Been thinking about Jimmy and Castiel.”

“What about them?” Sam clipped the pen to the notebook.

“How much of what he told Ellie do you think is true?”

“You mean do I think he was awake the whole time or was he telling her a story about what he thought might have happened?”

“I do mean. She was planning on killing him. Wouldn’t have made sense to lie right then, but I remember Jimmy told us once that he only remembered pieces. Pieces, Sam. Put what he’s said these months with what he told her and it sounds like he was awake fairly consistently for well over a year. Doesn’t go with what he said previous.”

Now that Meg was gone and tension in other areas had lessened, his mind was churning through all of those details. He’d begun thinking about it the second danger had passed. Dean found himself recalling things he hadn’t remembered, like the way Jimmy had looked when that first girl in the camp had flirted with him. It hadn’t been the look of a man uncomfortably wrestling with bodily desires and a moral compass but rather the expression of someone who didn’t know what to do because he’d never had the experience before.

Like a man who’d once been an emotionless angel turned human as punishment for his crimes. Things like that popped into Dean’s mind, things he’d seen and managed to shove aside.

Why had he pushed those things away and ignored what they probably meant? Dean thought it may be because a part of him had wanted desperately for it to be true and for Jimmy to be alive. He’d wanted to see a man pick up the pieces of a shattered life and come out somehow whole in the end. He’d wanted to see someone do what he couldn’t seem to do himself.

He’d lied to himself and knew it.

“It’s not impossible, Dean. Could be that when Castiel first became corrupted he lost the ability to keep Jimmy suppressed. The first chink in his angel armor.”

“Could be,” he agreed, then shook his head, “but think about him as a whole person. I mean, since that day by my gravesite.”

Sam was quiet a minute. “He’s been what Castiel wasn’t: present and always accessible, almost selfless --”

“But he doesn’t really seem like Jimmy Novak, does he? Repentant and claiming he has to make up for what Castiel did. Why? It’s not his fault. He’s not responsible for anything Castiel did or said. Why is it so important to him? I keep trying to remember Jimmy from when we met him that first time and, Sam, I can’t put the two together. Who he is now is not who he was then. They’re not the same person.”

Sam chuckled. “Neither are we. We’ve all changed. Happens.”

“I know, but this is….” He looked away, teeth biting briefly into his lower lip as he thought about it. Reconciling the two was a problem he couldn’t get past. “Doesn’t mix. It’s almost like he’s a copy of Jimmy. A good copy, but a copy. He’s Cylon Jimmy.”

“He does still have Castiel in there, remember?”

“Does he? How sure are we that’s the truth here?” Sitting up, he leaned forward. “That’s another thing that bothers me. If Castiel is shoved inside his body and powerless, then how is that in any way justice for Jimmy? To have that betraying dick stuck in his head for life? That’s just another sort of prison. I’d think justice would have been for Jimmy to be released from him and to get his family back. It’d be to be free of Castiel completely.”

“What sort of family man would he be now, though?” He raised a hand, scratching a finger at his temple as he frowned. “I don’t think his family would recognize him. Wife might not be able to handle how he is now. She had a hard enough time back then.”

Dean held up a finger. “Another thing. He has a girlfriend and not just a chaste sort of thing either. He was a devout guy. The whole sex out of marriage bit doesn’t fit.”

“How many things are bothering you about Jimmy?”

“A few,” he admitted. “Jimmy loved his wife. I remember that. He loved her, loved his daughter, and I thought that that love for his wife was the real thing. You know?” At Sam’s nod, he continued. “Was it real? How could it go away even with what he went through? I’d think he’d…I don’t know…cherish it or something.”

Sam leaned forward as well. “He had time to mourn losing them while Castiel was in control. I think he let them go long before the grave site and suspected then we wouldn’t find them. Probably, his wife filed for divorce on grounds of abandonment when she understood he wouldn’t be back. I’ll bet she remarried and that’s why we couldn’t find her.”

“Maybe. Bothers me. Doesn’t add up. And he’s gotten weird the past few days. Have you noticed? He acts like Jo’s gonna punch him. Won’t go near her on his own.”

“She might punch him.”

He had to concede the truth on that. Jo just might if she thought it was Castiel talking to her and not Jimmy. “True.”

A sigh left Sam. “I don’t know, Dean. He doesn’t really seem like Castiel either.”

“So who is he then? Who is he really and why has he been lying to us? Is he Jimmy with Castiel inside and I’m imagining things? Or is he Castiel, still lying through his teeth and digging himself deeper? If it’s him, you’d think he would have learned his lesson about lying after last time.”

Although, if he’d lied about being Jimmy he’d lied while lying on the ground thinking Dean was going to kill him. He’d lied in an attempt to save his own life. He’d laid there powerless and had to have wondered if he’d been made that way only to die immediately and in agonizing pain. Panic would have been coursing through his body along with the knowledge that the last thing Dean would do would be to let him live if he admitted he was still one hundred percent Castiel.

In that case, in that situation, the lie was understandable and it was also understandable that he’d continued it. It would explain a lot of the things that bugged Dean.

He frowned, hating that he could understand that and the course that would have followed: spending the days carefully treading a line, wondering how to come clean, and agonizing over it while knowing that admitting the truth meant death. Each day would feel like a death sentence.

“Let me guess…. We’re going to watch him.”

“Like a hawk.”

“Dean, maybe it’s as simple as he has trouble keeping Castiel completely suppressed sometimes. I mean, you beat the crap out of him a few months ago when he implied he was Castiel and tried to apologize.”

They’d both been drinking and Dean hadn’t been in a forgiving mood about anything right then, wallowing in a rough patch where he’d wanted Bobby back to give them advice, Ellen to snap them back in line, and Jo to lie down with at night and pretend everything was okay as the world fell apart even further. He’d been in a bad way and hearing those words in Castiel’s way of speaking had pushed him over the edge. He’d grabbed Jimmy’s shirt and begun to punch him, unfazed by how he hadn’t fought back. Jimmy had laid there, refusing to defend himself and that refusal had incensed Dean. He’d had to be dragged off of Jimmy that night.

Another evidence he probably was Castiel. Castiel didn’t do things by halves. Not really. When he became an ally, he was one. When he went bat shit crazy and tried to be a god, he did it until he was smacked down and forced from it. And when he hit a patch of depression, he lost all thought of personal safety. Dean remembered he’d once drunk an entire liquor store in an effort to get drunk.

If he’d thought it was a right and just punishment that Dean beat him to death, he’d lie there and let it happen.

Dean rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Maybe it is and if that’s the case I’ll let it go. I’ll chalk all these things that don’t add up as that and circumstances.”

“And if it’s the other? If it’s Castiel trying to hide?”

Once it would have been simple. He would have killed him right then, taken out his gun and shot him in the head.

Simplicity had flown away. Nothing was simple and, as the months had passed, that situation had become complicated. He’d gotten to know the man who said he was Jimmy and he sort of liked him. That man had been helpful, had acted without malice, had taken crap jobs with a calm nod, and had made a place for himself that couldn’t easily be filled. He’d spent time with Sam that Sam appeared to enjoy. He’d made friends and Dean knew Mindy would certainly mourn if Dean killed him. There were people and situations within the situation that had to be considered.

This couldn’t be a rash, heat of the moment decision. There would have to be careful consideration before anything was done.

But first…. They had to determine what the truth was. Was he Jimmy with a side of Cas? Or was he Castiel?

The evidence was pointing in the very direction Dean hoped wasn’t true. Castiel and only Castiel. Sam made good points, but it didn’t feel right with the evidence. Dean didn’t really need to consider the question of who Jimmy was and he thought he’d probably known it all along. Deep down, he’d known Jimmy was really Castiel.

But would Castiel be able to admit it?

“We deal with him. Together.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mornings came too early in Jo’s opinion. Beth woke early, needing a diaper change and feeding. No one stepped in to help her and Jo was glad. The past few days had been nice, but she needed to do this herself. After all, she was a mother now and by the end of the day it’d basically be just her and Dean taking care of their daughter.

She completed both tasks in the solitude of the back room of the infirmary and couldn’t wait to be in the cabin instead. Living here was already old. Jo cradled Beth to her a moment, then laid her in the bassinet.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised. The baby responded by fussing and Jo tried to ignore it. It wasn’t good to hold her every time she fussed and Jo had to get things done. She took a shower in the small stall in the bathroom, glad she didn’t have to go to the communal showers and back, then dressed and set about giving Beth a bath. It was harder than both Ellen and Morgan made it look, but the smell of baby shampoo made her smile.

Jo left Beth with Ellen and Morgan and went to assess the situation at the cabin. She paused outside, wondering if she should knock and wait or just go in. Jo knocked and eased the door open. “Dean,” she called out in a soft voice as she stepped inside.

“You’re early.” He was standing at the kitchenette counter, a mug in hand, hair wet, and towel wrapped about him. It rode low on his hips and she drank the sight in.

Sam’s door was closed and she approached Dean, smelling fresh coffee that she wasn’t going to be able to drink for awhile yet. “I was awake…and mom and Morgan practically kicked me out of the building. It’s a good thing mom’s not exactly able to go out shopping. She’s cooing like she’s never seen a baby before.”

“She’s happy. Don’t blame her.” He led her into the bedroom and set the mug down. “From being dead to alive to being a grandma. Quite a transition in about a year.”

She followed him, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. There, in the corner, was a crib and she gestured at it. “When did you do this?”

“Wasn’t me.” He picked up a thermal shirt and button down shirt from a laundry basket. “Jimmy and team picked up a few things. He had a guy working on this while you were giving birth.”

“Did he?”

“He did.”

Jo wasn’t sure how she felt about that. While he still felt like Castiel, and had responded when she’d yelled his name as the demon had reached for him, he wasn’t behaving like the same Castiel she remembered. He was kinder, gentle. He’d carried her to get her to a safe place to give birth and she realized she had yet to thank him for that.

Dean set the shirts with a pair of jeans tossed across the chair and came to her, grasping her hips. “You look tired.”

“I am tired. She doesn’t sleep through the night yet.” She rested her hands on his biceps, then slid them up to his shoulders and let him draw her closer. “I think I got maybe two hours in a row at a time last night.”

“Mmm.” Lowering his head, he began to press kisses to her neck. “I think you need to lie down.”

“You do?” Jo smiled and leaned her head back so he could change sides.

“I do. Lie down, rest for a bit…. Might be the last quiet moment we have for awhile.”

She pressed a hand to his cheek, felt the freshly shaven smoothness there, and moved her hand around to cup the back of his neck. “For awhile,” she agreed.

They lay in bed, her in her underwear by the time he was done ‘making her comfortable’ and him naked. She had a moment of uncertainty in her body image, but then he was sliding his hands along her skin and murmuring how beautiful he thought she was. He didn’t seem to see that she was going to have a couple months of serious diet and exercise work to bounce back physically and Jo understood suddenly that he didn’t see that. All he saw was the woman who’d given birth to his daughter and the woman he’d spent months hoping would return to him. The rest didn’t even register.

Dean laid his hand on her stomach, then slid it around to her side. “Last time we laid here together, I couldn’t hold you as close as I wanted.”

“You can now.”

He remedied the situation, tucking her tight against him. “Mmm…. Glad you’re back, Jo.”

“Me, too. Sure beats the alternative.”

They cuddled and talked in low voices about trivial things for about half an hour. At that point, Dean drew back a fraction. “I need your help with something.”

He explained the situation and Jo was relieved that she hadn’t been imagining things. “You think he’s been pretending the whole time?”

“I think he has. Sam said some things could be true, but it doesn’t feel right to me.”

She sighed and raised up to rest her head on her hand. “I still have that feeling when I’m around him.”

“The crawly sensation?”

“Yeah, that one. It doesn’t go away. Could just be a reaction to him being there in Jimmy --”

“But you don’t think that any more than I do.”

“No, I don’t.” She watched as Dean heaved a long sigh that ended in a groan and rolled onto his back.

He slid one hand beneath his head on the pillow. “I don’t want this, Jo. I don’t want to deal with him again. Seems like all I do is deal with Castiel in one form or another.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“I should. It’s my knee-jerk response, but I don’t know that it’s the right thing to do. Used to be simple, you know? He turned into a monster and I knew I had to kill him and I didn’t when I had the chance because I thought he was some guy named Jimmy. One more victim of the supernatural.” He shook his head. “No, I hoped he was Jimmy,” he corrected himself. “I think I always knew he wasn’t.”

“Has he done anything since that day to hurt anyone?”

“Not a thing. Goes out of his way not to be in such a position that that might happen and the time he spends with Sam….”

“Has it helped Sam?” She’d heard Sam’s words on ‘Jimmy’ before and knew that Sam had found his presence helpful. Sam liked spending time with him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, took two long slow breaths, and reopened his eyes. “Maybe. Hard to tell with Sam’s condition. He’s up and down and all over the place depending on the day. You’d think that medicine would be consistent. What do I do here?” Turning his head, he looked at her, his indecision in his eyes. “What would you do?”

“Me?” She raised her brows. “I’d probably punch him for lying to me for months, but if he’s really human now? I don’t know. You’re right. It’s complicated, because if he’s behaving the way you said, it indicates he’s trying to maybe atone --”

“Can a person atone without admitting what he did? He’s never owned up to it, Jo. He did say he was sorry to me once, but never said why he was sorry. I think atonement, real atonement, needs to begin with admitting what he did to the people he did it to.”

“So give him the chance to do that and see where it goes. Not like he’s going anywhere, is it?”

“No. He pretty much stays here.”

She sat up. “Well, we’re all here now, except for Bobby. All the people he hurt directly. If there’s a perfect time to start asking for forgiveness, it’s now. I say we give him time and see if he does that.”

“And if he doesn’t? What then?”

“We confront him, but one way or another? We finish it.” Leaving the bed, Jo pulled her clothes back on and brought Dean his. “Let’s go get breakfast. I’m hungry.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was later than usual when Castiel woke and he watched Mindy dress slowly and without turning on the lights. By now, Mindy was as familiar with his cabin as her own. She’d certainly stayed over enough.

“Coming to breakfast,” she asked.

“In awhile.”

“See you there, then.” Bending, she kissed him and touched his cheek. “Do you feel better this morning?”

“Yes.” It was the truth. There was a calm that came from pretty much revealing himself to Sam and Dean. He’d known he couldn’t avoid it forever and their confrontation was going to happen. It was simply a matter of waiting for it to happen now.

“Good. I’ll be helping Jo move today, but should be available by afternoon if you want to get together again. Let me know.”

Castiel watched her leave. He liked having her around. She was a pleasant companion and familiar enough with his moods to begin anticipating him. Like the previous night….

He sat up quickly.

It wasn’t simply a case of liking her and finding some physical pleasure with her. That understanding dropped into his mind like a heavy rock. Somewhere along the way, he’d begun to develop feelings for her. He liked her and this sensation he had when around her…. It was affection and not merely affection, but the romantic sort. Castiel cared for Mindy. He cared if she got hurt and with that realization came another one.

She cared for him, too. It was in her actions and in how she looked at him. The small smile she’d had before she’d left…. He’d seen Jo look at Dean the way Mindy looked at him.

“Oh, no,” he breathed. “Bad. This is bad.”

When the truth emerged and his death from it inevitably occurred, she would be hurt by it. Yet he couldn’t break it off with her to save her from that hurt because to do so would hurt her just as much. He’d managed to get himself emotionally entangled in a way he’d never felt before. It was one thing to be emotional over Dean and now Sam. Mindy was a different sort of situation and he wasn’t sure what to do or how to resolve it without her being hurt one way or another. Castiel didn’t want her in pain over him.

Getting up, he threw on a robe and took a shower at the nearest bath building. He dressed and went to eat breakfast, watching Mindy as she worked the line. She had a smile for everyone and he knew her words would be encouraging. An ache began to grow in his chest because she would be hurt and there was nothing he could do about it. When the time came, was there any chance that perhaps Dean would let him take Mindy and leave the camp? Would Mindy want to go though?

Dean was right. Being human sucked.

A tray thumped on the table beside him and he looked up to see Dean standing there.

“You’re in late this morning.” Dean began setting out the contents in two places. Two sets of silverware, two napkins, and two plates of eggs and toast, one with more than the other.

“I slept in.”

“Don’t blame you. Sam’s still passed out. Snoring, too, but he’d never admit that.” Finished divvying up the items, he sat.

Jo approached, moving slowly. She was carrying a tray with mugs and glasses on it and Castiel wondered where the baby was. She answered like he’d asked her that question. “Mom’s got Beth. She and Morgan are fighting over her this morning and over who is going to watch her while I move us into Dean’s room at the cabin.”

“Oh. The crib should be set up.”

“I saw. Thanks.” She set the drinks out and eased into the chair. Apparently her slow moving wasn’t because of the tray of full cups and glasses. Jo relaxed with a tiny sigh. “And thanks for the other day.”

“For what?”

“Carrying me. Thank you…Jimmy.”

“You’re welcome. You needed to get there fast and it was the quickest way.” He waited for Dean to say something about the things he’d said to Eleanor Visyak, but he said nothing. Why? What was he waiting for?

“You look like maybe you didn’t sleep well,” she observed.

“Mindy spent the night.”

Jo smirked at that.

Dean gave a knowing nod. “Ahh. That kind of not sleeping well. We’re not twenty-five anymore. Those younger babes tire us out easily.” Dean shrugged his brows and leered at Jo, who blushed a fraction and picked at her breakfast with the air of a woman greatly satisfied with herself.

He didn’t explain that that wasn’t what he’d meant.

“Mindy’s a nice girl,” Dean said before sipping his coffee. “Willing to learn the job, open to possibilities. Seems pretty stable.”

“And she knows babies,” Jo interjected. “Said she was the oldest of six growing up.”

Castiel nodded. All things he already knew. “She’s very nice.”

He waited for Dean to ask him to go outside the camp with him. Should be coming any time now. He’d say it was an easy job, in and back out, no need for a big team. Just the two of them. Would he give Castiel time to say some sort of goodbye to people or insist they leave immediately after breakfast? Could go either way.

His imagination filled in what would happen next. They’d leave the camp, Dean drive a ways, far enough that a gunshot wouldn’t be too alarming to the camp. Maybe he’d talk along the way, tell Castiel he knew he’d been lied to, or maybe he wouldn’t. It would depend on how furious he was by that.

But he wasn’t acting angry right now. His demeanor was that of a man who had a full day of responsibilities ahead of him.

The hand that raised his mug to his mouth shook and Castiel wrapped his other hand around the mug. Coffee quit spilling over the brim. Neither Dean nor Jo said anything and he cast a glance their way. Jo was sipping at her small glass of juice, her attention on Dean and Dean was busy eating.

Castiel imagined getting out of the vehicle for his execution. He hoped he’d have the dignity not to cry or plead, but suspected he’d do both, blubbering out the words ‘I’m sorry’ until the moment Dean put a bullet through his head. Would Dean bother burying his body or would he leave it to be picked apart by animals?

“You okay?”

Dean’s voice startled him from his grim prediction and he jerked, coffee sloshing onto his tray. “Thinking about a nightmare I have.”

“Best forget it. New ones always come along.”

“That’s a cheery thought.” Jo snorted and stirred the liquid in her mug.

“It is the truth,” Castiel replied. “The nightmares don’t end and I have double the fears to dream about. I always have nightmares.”

“That’s sad.” She picked at her eggs. “Do you ever have happy dreams? Surely you do. Everyone does.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Sometimes I dream that everything is okay and nothing changed. I dream that I’m myself and no one else. And sometimes…. Sometimes I dream that it’s all over and I can rest.” He supposed his words could be taken two different ways. Jimmy longing for his old life or an end to this one or Castiel wishing he’d made different choices and wanting his punishment over.

“Not much different from some of my dreams.” Dean picked up a small container of jelly, opened it, and began spreading it on his last two sections of toast. “A couple weeks back, I dreamed Sam and I were only weeks on the road together, still looking for dad, hadn’t even met Ellen and Jo yet. The windows were down on Baby, scenery was going by, and I was teasing him about something. He laughed. I haven’t heard Sam laugh that way in very long time.” He finished with the toast and set the knife down. “And last night, I dreamed he was okay again. Peaceful. Able to hunt. We stood by Baby and the front gates to camp opened. He looked at me and said, ‘Lot of people need saving now. Let’s get to work.’.”

“Dreaming of running away, huh?” Jo squeezed her hand into a fist, napkin clenched inside it.

Castiel thought Jo was teasing, yet he saw a tiny speck of fear in her eyes. Why did she worry? She was the mother of Dean’s child. He’d hardly leave her willingly. Even Castiel knew that.

“Wasn’t like that, Jo. Hard to explain. It was more like the two of us and the world were back in a place where we could work again. We could hunt like we used to. We weren’t leaving to leave, but to hunt things and save people.”

“The family business.” She shoved her plate aside.

“Yeah.” Dean picked up a slice of toast. “Guess I miss that, the way it was. Camp is a necessity and we do some of that now, but it’s not the same. The saving we do is different.”

“I know. I miss it, too,” Jo admitted, crossing her arms. “I miss a world that had order to it.”

Castiel looked down at his tray and was contemplating a couple different ways of excusing himself when Dean pushed his plate away and sat back, turning a measuring stare on him. Cas didn’t dare move or say anything. Now is the time, he thought. Here it comes. My life is going to end today.

“How much of what you told Ellie was true?”

Not what he’d thought was coming. “All of it.”

“He tried to assassinate a Fate?”

“Yes. He and Balthazar.”

“And how did they draw her out?”

“They un-sunk the Titanic.”

Jo sucked in a sharp breath.

Castiel arranged his own dishes on his tray, not looking at either of them. “It had the effect of adding souls that were needed for power and drawing out Atropos. It also raised Jo and Ellen because it gave you other hunters in Carthage. They never died and you never remembered they’d died, negating that pain for you.” He glanced up, braving looking at them.

“Why the Titanic? Why not stopping Hitler or something like that?” Jo reached for her juice glass and sipped at the remaining liquid.

He cleared his throat, wishing he still had something to drink because his throat was dry. “By the calculations that were made, the Titanic would have done the job needed and give Dean people he loved back. The calculations were done ahead of time. He was careful.” It had been more about the power however. Castiel could admit that to himself now. The side effect for Dean had simply been the icing on that particular cake.

“At least he was consistent on that.” Jo wiped her hands on her crumpled napkin. “The claiming that he did things for you, Dean.”

“How did it get reversed?” Dean stacked his and Jo’s plates and put them on one tray, then stacked the trays.

Castiel could have sworn Dean knew some of this already. “Atropos caught them. She threatened you and Sam, pointed out that her sisters would avenge her death.”

He leaned slightly towards Castiel, brows raising a tiny bit. “Do you really think Atropos is tormenting you?”

You. He hadn’t said Castiel, he’d said ‘you’. His heart felt like it was going to beat right through his chest and his palms grew damp with sweat. “To be honest, I’m uncertain why some of my accidents haven’t been fatal. There could be other explanations, but I believe she’s the likeliest scenario, perhaps even a special assignment.”

Jo’s stare was cool and unblinking and he wondered what was going on in her mind before deciding it was probably better that he didn’t know. “Maybe it’s simply part of Castiel’s punishment? To be forced to live when he doesn’t want to. To have to live when death would be the easier way.”

“How would death be easier,” he asked her.

It was Dean who answered. “Because if he died he wouldn’t have to own up to everything he did one by one. He wouldn’t have to face the people he betrayed and hurt and he wouldn’t have to face himself.”

In that second, Castiel was positive that Dean did know. It wasn’t a case of him trying to fit the pieces together. He’d already done that. After all, Dean Winchester was a smart man. He could read people and had to be good at it for the job. The knowledge that the man he’d thought was Jimmy was really Castiel all along was in Dean’s eyes and Dean was waiting to see if Castiel had the guts to do what he’d just said. Own up to everything and face everyone.

He wanted to say that he did and to do it, but underneath that want, Castiel found he was still a coward. He couldn’t force himself to say the words. Not yet. Not today. His let his gaze fall from Dean’s.

How long would Dean wait before he forced the issue? It would happen. One of these days, Dean would be tired of waiting for Castiel to do the right thing.

“I have things I need to get done today.” Castiel announced and got up, taking his own dishes to the kitchen.

At a last glance, it wasn’t Jo still watching him, but Dean, his eyes narrowed and face impassive.