Title: The Curse of Bittersweet Kisses
Chapter 4

“Mom?” Jo knocked on the closed bedroom door. Once, Bobby’s wife had set that room up as a guest room. Now, anyone who wanted to sleep there had to move books, boxes, and weapons out of the way. Bobby tended to use all the upstairs rooms as storage for various items, mainly his large library of books.

The door opened. Ellen was wearing the loose t-shirt and sweatpants Jo had dug out for her from their stash of clothes and she looked every day her age. “You need something, sweetie?”

“I came to ask you that.” The boxes and other items had been stacked all along the walls, clearing the twin bed, and someone had put sheets on it. Sam perhaps? He still seemed thoughtful in that way. “I’m making a run into town to get some clothes and essentials. You want me to get you anything?”

“The usual, I guess. Vitamins, shampoo, soap. Maybe some makeup? Foundation and mascara anyway. The ones I left here are all clumpy.” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “I’ll go in and get some clothes in the next couple days. Too bad Castiel didn’t think to give us wardrobes.”

“Yeah. When I left clothes here, I hadn’t thought I’d lose everything I had except for those two changes.” She glanced towards the stairs and back. “Want me to wake you when I get back?”

“No, let me sleep. I stayed up all night with Sam. That poor boy needed someone to talk to that wasn’t Dean or Bobby.” She sighed. “I can’t get over how different they are these days.”

“We’re all different.”

Ellen quirked a brow. “Ain’t that the truth. Enjoy your shopping.” She closed the door.

Jo shopped slowly, picking out clothes and toiletries, and a bag to put it all in, feeling all the while like she had Castiel looking over her shoulder. She felt a bit silly thinking that. Why would he worry about what she was buying? Why would he spy on her shopping trip? Wasn’t it really Dean and Sam he was attempting to police? She couldn’t come up with a good reason why Castiel would watch her shop, yet to her surprise, he appeared in the restaurant she went to for lunch, sitting across from her and making it clear he had been watching her.

“Good afternoon, Jo.” His smile was gentle and a little patronizing, like he was trying for a fatherly vibe and failed. In her eyes he failed anyway.

“What do you want?” She dipped a French fry in ketchup and ate it.

“I’m pleased with you today. Your behavior is a far cry from your disobedience of yesterday.”

She paused in taking another bite. “Excuse me? My what?”

“Your disobedience. Or rather, your disagreeable manner and general surliness after I’d carefully raised you. That was yesterday, however. Today, you were careful shopping, searching for the best bargain with what you were given.”

“Were you watching me shop?” He really had been there. It hadn’t been her imagination and she dropped the fry she’d been dipping in ketchup in preparation of eating it. “Why were you watching me shop?”

“I observed to see if you’d overcome the obstacle of no funds to spend gracefully. You did an admirable job.” He reached into an inner pocket of his coat. “It’s good for you to trust Dean to provide for you. You trusted, he did provide, and you spent wisely as a good wife should.” Castiel slid a bundle of bills across to her. “Your reward for the proper behavior of a wife.”

She didn’t reach for the money, lips parting in disbelief. Was he serious?

He nudged it closer, a tiny confused gleam growing in his eyes. “I assure you, the full eight hundred is there.”

“The full eight hundred,” she repeated slowly.

“Your obedience has brought a blessing to your mother as well. I’ve reinstated her accounts and returned the cash she had in her possession upon your deaths.” He sounded so very pleased by that.

Slowly Jo sat back and crossed her arms. “So you think you can buy our love by returning what was ours to begin with?”

Castiel blinked, that confusion she saw deepening. “It’s a reward, Jo, not a bribe. You behaved correctly and correct behavior deserves a reward. I’ll reward Dean, Sam, and Bobby for proper behavior when they display it as well.”

“It’s a bribe.”

“I’m not bribing you. It’s a reward --”

“Call it what you will, but you and I both know what it really is.” She stirred her coffee, then tapped the spoon on the rim and set it down.

A muscle on his jaw ticked. “You’d prefer the money gone?”

“I’d prefer to have all of my belongings back.”

“You’ve already chosen new.”

“You returned the money, you could return the belongings. I had a couple shirts and things in that bag I really liked.”

“You’re that attached to inanimate objects? To clothing?”

“Not the point I’m making.”

“Then make it.” His frown was deep.

Jo indicated him with a finger. “That coat is yours, right?”

“It was Jimmy’s.”

“But you wear it and continue to wear it. It’s yours now.” At his slow nod, she continued. “How would you feel if it was gone and someone had the ability to give it back to you and refused?”

“I’m not attached to this coat, Jo. If it was gone, I’d not feel any different. I’d not pine for it.”

She sat forward and began to eat her fries again. After four of them, she said, “Pretend you are.”

“No. I won’t pretend something I don’t feel.”

At his refusal, she thought a moment and changed tactics. “Okay, we’ll go at this a different way.” This might make him mad. While she didn’t want to see that after what Dean and Sam had told her and what she’d seen in Castiel’s eyes, she had to see it personally. She had to witness just what pissing him off could mean. Was it better to do it slightly or all out? She took a bracing breath. “You like being top dog now, the one in charge of everything.”

“Someone has to keep the world and everything in it in line.”

It sounded reasonable, really it did. The problem was him and the way he was keeping it all in line. Not to mention that it didn’t have to be him. While she wanted to touch on that, she decided not to. She’d save that discussion for another day, after she knew better how he’d respond. “So, let’s say something happens and you lose that place completely. It’s gone. You’re no longer…God. If someone could give it back to you and refused, how would you feel?”

“I won’t lose this position.”

“You lost your status as angel,” she argued as calmly as possible. “Those powers went poof.”

“That was due to outside influences.”

She nodded, pursed her lips, and glanced about the restaurant. “You don’t think there are any outside influences that could affect you now?”

There was an immediate change in his expression. He closed himself off, features going stony and cool. Crossing his arms on the table, he leaned forward. “You should show me respect, Jo.” The underlying and implied secondary words were that she should respect him because he was her God.

The alien Castiel was back and she forced herself to be casual in reaching for her coffee and taking a sip. “Respect has to be earned. What have you done to earn my respect?”

“I raised you.”

“And immediately insulted me by telling me I was raised to be a whore.”

“Eve wasn’t insulted to be Adam’s bride. Why should you be insulted to be Dean’s?”

“Eve hadn’t died being a hunter. Nor was she used to being in charge of her own life.”

“Do you not consider Dean good enough for you?”

“Dean’s not the issue here. Of course, he’s good enough. We’re talking about what you’ve done to gain respect from me.” She finished her fries and slid the plate away. “Though to be honest, I don’t know why you’re so concerned with having my respect. Why does it matter? You’ll still do what you want when you want. My respect wouldn’t change anything.”

He stared at her a long moment and disappeared. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back and neither was the money going to disappear, Jo took it and shoved it in her pocket without counting it. Did picking it up count as accepting his bribe?

Outside, the sky darkened with clouds and a heavy rain began to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel didn’t understand Jo Harvelle.

The fact distressed him because…he was God. He should have an understanding of all creatures, including humans, yet an understanding of Jo eluded him. It was distressing and quite worrisome because…God understood his peoples. God knew the inner workings of their minds and bodies and while he’d put Jo and Ellen back together, he didn’t understand Jo at all.

He should understand her completely. Should. So why didn’t he? A tiny whisper of doubt surfaced and he squashed it before it could take root.

I’m merely weary, he reasoned. Raising them expended quite a bit of energy. I’ve been so focused I’ve not given myself time to recover.

God shouldn’t have to recover, came a sly little voice inside his head and he banished that thought as well. He was God now. He was. He had the powers.

Jo took his efforts to make her comfortable with her new role as an insult. Why? He’d think she’d be happy to be alive again, yet she complained about the reason he’d raised her, complained when he attempted to alleviate her worries about the sex issue by declaring her wed to Dean, and now complained that Castiel didn’t return all her possessions, merely the money.

She was incomprehensible, behaving like he was doing something wrong when he hadn’t, insinuating there was some outside influence he hadn’t considered. There was no outside influence. The only creature equal to him was Death and Death didn’t care for anything except natural order.

He brought clouds and rain and stood for a moment in a field outside of town, feeling a sick sensation rising in his stomach. It was a sensation he was growing familiar with. Usually, it was a prelude to needing to release one of the souls inside him. The pressure would build and he had to release it. He’d decided it was a natural thing, a part of his new being and the way things were. Those creatures whose souls had made up Purgatory had once been on earth and he was merely returning them one by one, a part of keeping balance.

That was it. It was a balance matter.

Yet only sometimes did the gray mist that issued forth coalesce into a corporeal form. Usually it didn’t, mist arcing away from him into the sky. He’d kept an eye on those things and only the one had gone on a rampage. Dean and Sam, with a few other hunters, had managed to stop it and return it to purgatory. Most thus far simply circled the earth, like they weren’t sure what to do now that they were free.

The first time it had happened, he’d been uncomfortably aware of the similarities between the gray mist and the black smoke that were demons. What came from him weren’t demons, but they were the souls that had been in purgatory. They were…changed from what they’d been. He hadn’t decided what to call them yet or if he should name them at all.

Castiel tried to calm himself. Being upset or in any sort of emotional state brought it on and he thought that he’d be fine if only he could keep calm. Calm was good. He needed to stay calm.

But the more he thought about Jo and their exchange, the more angry he became. Choking back the gray mist that tried to push from his lips, he swallowed it down and forced himself to another location. He needed to not think about Jo Harvelle and how he didn’t understand her.

He needed to do something he knew.

Feeding orphans in China should calm him down -- and had the added benefit of demonstrating to Dean once more that he was a benevolent God.

~~~~~~~~~~

With Ellen taking a shower and going to bed, Jo in town, and Lucifer not in evidence, Sam stepped outside and took the short walk to where Dean was working on the Impala. It was busy work, nothing that needed doing, simply a way for Dean to keep himself occupied. All of the difficult work on the Impala was finished and the things that remained were true busy work, picky tasks Dean could engage in for hours. When Sam walked up, Dean was crouched down beside the front passenger tire. “Jo seem okay to you?”

Dean glanced up. “Yeah, why?”

He shrugged. “Um…. Ellen was telling me she doesn’t feel like herself. Ellen, I mean. Just wondered if Jo said anything like that.”

“Not in so many words. She’s scared.”

“She has good reason to be. We all do.”

“She’s quiet now, but she was getting that way before she died.” He stood and turned, leaning against the car and crossing his arms. “You think something is wrong with them?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I hope not.”

“You got a reason for thinking there is?”

“Nothing real, but.… I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining what’s not there. Cas raised me without a soul. What if something went wrong with them, too? Makes me wonder.”

“They’ve got their souls, Sam. The difference in Jo is little things I can’t put my finger on.”

“So you see it, too. I’m not imaging things.” He dipped his head in a slow nod. “With them anyway.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I see it, but those things could be natural reactions to the situation. Could even be things we didn’t have time to notice before Carthage. We’ll give it a couple days, see what happens. Maybe it’ll work itself out and if it doesn’t seem to, we can see what Bobby says when he gets back.” He glanced down at the ground. “What’s the hallucination tally from yesterday?”

“Dean….” Sam leaned against the car, too, hands in his pockets. “Do we have to do this every morning now?”

“Yes. We do this until maybe some day you can look me in the eye and tell me honestly that they’re gone. Tell me.”

Dean was hoping that he’d suddenly get better, or maybe that Castiel would heal him as a surprise. Why did he still hope Cas would heal him when it was obvious that wasn’t about to happen? Not to mention that this wasn’t something that was going to get better. Sam knew that. He was trying to accept it, though he was still a long way off in that task. Spending the rest of his life like this was no way to live. “They’re not going away. You know that.”

“I know. How many?”

He glanced away. Lucifer was still gone. “Four.” With Lucifer gone, he felt peaceful almost and even normal. He could focus, hold a conversation, complete tasks easily. When Lucifer appeared, all of that went down the drain. Tension would spread across his shoulders and down his back and his attention would be divided -- a detriment in their lives.

“Four?” His brows rose. “Four hallucinations in a single freakin’ day?”

“Yes, four. One lasted most of the night while Ellen and I were out.” Four wasn’t even the highest daily tally. It was somewhere in the middle. One day they’d rushed over him, new hallucinations beginning shortly after the previous one ended. That day had been the day Dean had confronted him. There’d been no way to hide what was happening or downplay it and now…. Now Dean wanted a daily tally. Sam suspected he was charting them somewhere, trying to see if there was a pattern, something they could work with. It was something he’d thought about himself, but it depressed him too much to actually work on it. “Not like I can control them.”

“They all Lucifer?”

“Three were. The fourth was….” He hesitated to say it because it sounded a little silly to him, like saying he was seeing pink elephants or the White Rabbit.

“What,” Dean prodded.

He laughed, though he could barely put any real humor into it. “It’s silly. The fourth was Chuck.”

Dean leaned slightly to one side to look at him with head half turned. “Chuck. Prophet Chuck?”

“No, Chuck the Orkin guy. Of course, prophet Chuck.”

“Spill.”

The hallucination hadn’t been frightening at all. There’d been nothing in it that had alarmed him except for perhaps seeing Chuck there as a product of his mind. “He was sitting at Bobby’s desk when I woke up yesterday morning. He poured himself some whiskey, smiled, and told me to focus. Then he took a sip and disappeared.”

“That’s unhelpful.”

“My hallucinations aren’t here to help us, Dean. They’re bits of my mind I can’t keep control of. Thing is, that hallucination didn’t bother me. Still doesn’t. It lasted maybe a minute and didn’t disrupt anything. The other ones are the bad ones.”

“Focus, huh? What do you think your mind wants you to focus on?”

“I don’t know. Hunting? Finding a way to deal with the current threat to the world as we know it? Who knows? It might not even mean anything.”

“Maybe next time you see head Chuck, you can ask him to be a bit more specific?”

“‘Cause talking to my hallucinations is such a good idea.” He did sometimes reply, losing himself for a time in the hallucinations, like earlier in the kitchen with Jo. He’d found himself listening to Lucifer’s suggestion and relaying it to her.

“Talk to the okay one, ignore the dick one.”

“Uh-huh.” Ignoring Lucifer wasn’t easy. He tended to take over Sam’s entire line of sight, making things appear to be happening that weren’t. He’d been lucky the previous night that Lucifer hadn’t followed through after his warning. He’d contented himself with making comments, most wholly inappropriate, although sometimes he was right on the money and actually helpful.

It was in those moments that he told Sam that he was the part Sam had neglected to integrate with the others, the forgotten part. He was Lucifer Sam, the Sam completely given over to the angel’s control (however small a moment that had been), and he needed to be integrated as well. Maybe it was true. Maybe he’d get better if he forced that to happen, but he hesitated. Pulling himself as together as he had had nearly killed him. He didn’t think he’d live through a further attempt and he knew how much Dean needed him.

The question rose now however: if Lucifer was Lucifer Sam, then who was Chuck? How did Chuck fit in? Or did he?

“How’s the hand today?” Dean crouched back down.

He thought a moment, Ellen’s words ringing his mind. He was honest with the hallucinations. Shouldn’t he be honest with this, too? Over the hours, Ellen had indicated that he should come clean about it to Dean. He should admit he was the one hindering the healing process. A quick glance showed that Lucifer still hadn’t put in another appearance, but he was feeling like everything was sliding into sharp focus, a sign that Lucifer could appear at any time. “Worse,” he admitted.

“Worse how?” Dean paused, but didn’t stand again or look up.

“Infected again. The infection has spread to all the edges. The stitches --”

“I get the picture.” He stood again. “Let’s go take a look.”

Back in the house, Sam watched while Dean cleaned the wound with careful, gentle touches. It was probably a bad sign that he barely felt it at all. “Give me a minute before you re-stitch it.”

Dean cleaned up, then set out what he needed to stitch it closed again. He looked like he wanted to say something and, after a purse of his lips, and shake of his head, he did. “You’ve been picking at it, haven’t you? That’s why you took care of it yourself, so we wouldn’t see and put two and two together.”

“He’s not nearly as dumb as he looks,” Lucifer drawled from the doorway into the bathroom.

“It stops him sometimes.” He glanced at Lucifer, who wiggled his fingers in greeting.

“Picking at it?” Dean’s gaze dropped to Sam’s hand. “The pain.” He said it like he understood completely. Maybe he did at that. “Let’s get rid of him for awhile then.”

As Dean stitched, Lucifer’s image wavered and disappeared for the second time that day. Sam hoped there’d be hours before another hallucination.