16 - Familiar Territory

The train was much more comfortable than the bus. It also smelled much better. It had a dining car, but one look at the prices and Jimmy knew he couldn't spare the cash to get food. He'd already all but drained most of the cash Bobby had payed him just to get tickets. Once he was back in Louisiana, he'd need every penny just to survive until he could figure out where he belonged.

On the bus, he'd taken advantage of the time to try to draw a picture of the man he almost remembered. Now safely on board the train, Jimmy pulled out his drawing and frowned at it. He was looking at a middle-aged man, balding, overweight, with a smile that just seemed somehow off. It didn't look anything like the way his new friends smiled at him. For some reason, this man's smile never seemed to touch his eyes. Jimmy had no way to be sure, but something told him that this was accurate. He also felt a sense of dread at the idea of finding the man again. But what choice did he have? It was beyond clear that he was doing Dean more harm than good by staying. Dean was certainly better off without him, and it was past time Jimmy got back to where he belonged, wherever that might be.

As usual, the thought of Dean made something in his chest twist painfully. Jimmy knew that he'd been a fool to believe Dean could actually want him, especially once he fully understood the man's history. Telling Dean the truth that first time, back when Dean had introduced him to Sam and Bobby, had been terrifying. Naturally, Jimmy had feared that Dean would instantly reject him, or that Sam or Bobby would force him away. He'd been fully prepared for that eventuality. But even beyond that, Jimmy had recognized some deep-seated fear. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone he wasn't an angel, not ever. Doing so would have terrible consequences. That first night, he'd barely slept, jerking awake at any sudden sound, certain that someone would come and punish him for breaking this most sacred of rules. After all, he knew somehow that it was a secret he'd kept for years. Deep in the recess of his memories where he couldn't quite access, he could remember insisting over and over again that yes, he was Castiel, the Angel of the Lord, even when people shouted at him that he was a fraud.

But Dean was somehow different. Jimmy couldn't stand to see the familiar zeal in those green eyes that he distantly remembered seeing in so many others. He couldn't let Dean insist to his loved ones that Jimmy was an angel, especially not once Jimmy realized what the consequences for Dean could be. Dean, sweet, wonderful Dean, could never again be sent back to the terrible places he'd described, places where he'd be alone, drugged, and praying to an angel that probably never existed for help that would never come. Dean couldn't keep risking his life trying to prove himself worthy of a fantasy. No, Dean deserved more. He should be loved, cherished, and safe, able to live his own life the way he wished, not the way he thought he needed to.

For a time, Jimmy had let himself believe that he could live that life with Dean. He'd desperately wanted to live Dean's apple pie life, to spend the rest of his days at the side of the most incredible man he'd ever met. But it wasn't meant to be. Dean didn't love him. He was in love with a fantasy, an angel called Castiel. Jimmy's presence could only make things worse. No matter how his heart ached, Jimmy knew it had been time to leave.

Of course, now his problem was that he really had nowhere to go. Common sense told him that his best chance of finding out who he really was lay in Louisiana, back in the area near the park where he and Dean had met. He'd recalled the lesson he'd received from Sam in using the search engine on his phone and googled the area. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to google. The park was isolated, away from the main roads and not much of a tourist attraction. The closest neighborhood was ten miles away. Well, Jimmy thought ruefully, he didn't really have anything else to go on. He'd start in the park and hike to the neighborhood. Anyone who'd seen him before would surely recognize him, if the stares, whispers, and occasional camera flashes around him now were any indication.

Until now, he'd never thought to be ashamed of his wings. They were a part of him. He'd known they marked him, set him apart, but he'd never thought of them as something to be ridiculed. But a couple of unattended children pointing and laughing at him taught him, for the first time, that being different often meant being mocked. It was a sobering lesson, one that kept him in a stated of shocked, hurt, wakefulness despite his body's near-desperate need for sleep.

His wings also made riding in regular transport an uncomfortable affair. At least his broken wing taking up the seat next to him guaranteed he'd have a minimum of privacy, but he'd been jostled on the bus and could barely doze on the train. The fact he'd forgotten his pain pills, which he hadn't had to use for a while, was another issue. He was hungry, exhausted, and sore. He learned to wait until everyone else passed him before he got out of his seat, which reduced the jostling. The lesson had come fast after an unruly child had yanked out one of his feathers. That had resulted in Jimmy involuntarily lashing out with the insulted wing, knocking the child into his parents and causing a scene when the parents began yelling at Jimmy. Fortunately, some others had witnessed the incident and came to his defense, but Jimmy had learned to be wary of people near him. More than once, he'd been awakened by curious strangers poking at his wings.

By the time he finally reached his destination, Jimmy felt ready to drop to the ground right in the station and sleep for days. He barely made it to his bed in an inexpensive hotel before collapsing.

The next morning, Jimmy cleaned himself up as well as he could. It was hard. As usual, he couldn't properly wash his broken wing. Dean used to clean it until it shone. Now, the best he could do was cover the cast by throwing a plastic garbage bag over it and hold the rest of his wing in the shower. The result was sodden feathers that stuck together as they dried. It was very uncomfortable, but there wasn't much Jimmy could do about it.

In retrospect, that was the least of his worries. He hadn't eaten in two days.

Making his way to the complimentary breakfast, Jimmy loaded up his plate and dug in. As always, people stared, pointed, and took pictures. Jimmy was too downtrodden to care anymore, not even when the occasional giggle or outright snicker erupted near him. But one man in particular seemed fascinated by him. Jimmy ignored him, shifting his chair a little so he was facing away from the man. He kept eating. He couldn't help but wonder if Dean would enjoy this breakfast? Probably. Jimmy chewed thoughtfully on a piece of bacon, realizing he'd taken extra strips without thinking. Dean always was fond of bacon.

But even as hungry as he was, Jimmy couldn't enjoy the meal. His stomach bubbled and rolled like a pot of boiling water. It wasn't water that was causing this sensation, though, any more than it was hot steam that made his chest seem to burn. He ached for Dean, the pain far worse than any of his injuries.

He'd made the right decision. His head was sure of it. It was his heart he had to convince.

"I know you."

Jimmy looked up, seeing the man who'd been staring at him. He straightened warily. "You do?"

The man was wearing well-worn clothing. His dental hygiene was lacking, as evidenced by some missing teeth. But his eyes were wide as he stared at Jimmy, tapping a folded newspaper page against his hand. "Yeah. You're, uh," the man gestured towards his wings with the newspaper page, "kind of hard to mistake for someone else. You're Castiel, the Angel of the Lord. What are you doing here?"

Jimmy grimaced. He shook his head. "I'm no angel."

"Yes, you are," the man insisted. "You helped my arthritis! Before you, it was paining me something awful." He winced, flexing his knee a bit. "Still hurts," he admitted, "but it's better now. And just as soon as I get the cash together, I'll go hit another of your shows and pay the preacher so you make it even better."

Jimmy put down the piece of bacon, appetite suddenly gone. He gestured to the chair. "Sit down. I think we need to talk."

It took some doing before he could convince the man that he wasn't actually an angel. Disbelief was quickly replaced by anger as the man glowered at him. "You son of a bitch," he spat. "You bilked good people, not just me, out of money they really couldn't afford to lose. Old Mrs. Johnson drained her bank account so you'd cure her granddaughter of the cancer! Now you're telling me it was all a lie?!"

"I'm sorry," Jimmy repeated helplessly. "Whatever I've done, to you and anyone else? I'm so, so sorry. I'd repay everyone if I could, and someday, I hope I can. But right now, I need you to help me take the first step."

The man scoffed. "Why the hell should I help you do anything?"

"Because it's the only way that justice can be served," Jimmy declared. He dared to reach out for the man's hand, only to have it jerked out of his reach. Raising his hands helplessly, he looked the man in the eyes. "I've done some terrible, horrible things. I deserve to be punished for my actions. But this man, this preacher you mentioned? It seems to me that he's just as guilty as I am if he took your money." He paused. "What did you say his name was?"

"Adler," the man spat. "Zachariah Adler. And it may not be very Christian of me, Castiel or whoever you really are, but I hope you both rot in Hell."

Jimmy couldn't disagree. He watched sadly, wings drooping dejectedly, as the man threw the folded bit of newspaper at him and stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

His breakfast was cold now. Jimmy certainly didn't have any appetite for it. Still, he forced himself to keep eating. He had no idea when he'd be eating again, and he couldn't afford to waste food.

His breakfast sat uneasily in his stomach. Jimmy firmly reminded himself not to throw up. He got to his feet, feeling every residual ache and pain. From the sound of things, he certainly deserved them. He'd suspected, somehow, that he hadn't been a good man, but this? This made him sick for more reasons than one. He'd lied to people, duped them out of their money, given them false hope. In all likelihood, he'd helped steal money that could have been better spent on medical treatments that might actually have helped. Instead, people like Mrs. Johnson's granddaughter would likely die of cancer, believing so much in the power of an angel that they'd turned their backs on reality, desperate instead for a miracle.

How could he have done this? How could he have allowed himself to be part of such a horrible deception? What kind of man had he been before he'd met Dean?

Zachariah Adler. He was the one who had all the answers. But how could Jimmy even begin to search for him?

His eyes fell on the folded bit of newspaper. Frowning, he picked it up and unfolded it. It was, he realized, some kind of local publication. A small ad had been circled with heavy ink. "Adler's Angelic Revival," the ad proclaimed. "Come and pray with Preacher Zachariah Adler as he calls upon God's Heavenly Angel, Castiel! Get ready for a miracle!"

Anger made Jimmy's hand shake. He pulled out his phone and accessed the internet like Sam had shown him, doing a quick search for "Adler's Angelic Revival." While his search pulled up very little in the way of actual information, he was able to come across several mentions on something called "Facebook."

Jimmy checked the pages. Sure enough, there were people mentioning Adler's Revival, specifically the Angel Castiel. It was sickening, how many people had been duped. At least many of them had realized that the "miraculous healing" had been little more than chicanery. Several people were calling for an official police investigation.

Jimmy thought that was a fabulous idea.

Following a quick wash-up and change of clothes, Jimmy checked out. His phone had directions to the closest police station. It was several miles away on foot. Well, he thought, ruefully checking his cash, he couldn't really afford a cab. No choice but to walk. Granted, once he'd turned himself in and told the police his story, he likely wouldn't need much cash anymore. There wouldn't be much he could buy in a prison cell. So be it. Throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder, Jimmy started out.

The day was unseasonably warm, even for Louisiana. As the heat rose, so did the humidity. Soon, Jimmy was forced to remove his trench coat and tuck it into his bag. The sun beat down, causing beads of sweat to run down his face and drip between his shoulders. His wings were getting damp with it. He kept stretching them as much as he could, trying to get as much air flow among his feathers as possible. Naturally, that drew even more attention to his unusual appendages. People were staring, pointing, snapping pictures, and whispering to each other. Cars were slowing down as they passed, people hanging out of windows to gawk at him. The occasional mocking laughter made him flinch. Shame caused his skin to warm even more. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole where no one else could stare at him. Well, he reasoned, once he was in prison, he'd get his wish.

A passing car slowed, pulling up next to him. Jimmy continued on, head down, trying to ignore the sound of a car door opening. Most likely, it was someone else wanting to take his picture and laugh at him.

"Emmanuel!"

A jolt of familiarity at the sound of the name made him pause and look up. A dark-haired woman with frantic blue eyes was running towards him. "Emmanuel, it's you! Where have you been? We thought you were in South Dakota, and we were just about to drive out there after you. Oh, Emmanuel!"

She was embracing him suddenly, heedless of his damp condition. Jimmy's eyes widened in surprise. He awkwardly patted her back. "Um, h-hello?"

"Hello?" She drew back, looking puzzled at him. "Emmanuel, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," Jimmy apologized. "Do I know you?"

"Do you…?!" She sputtered. Then her eyes fell on the cast on his wing and widened. "Oh! You're hurt? What happened?" She shook her head. "Never mind. It's Hannah, Hannah Adler. We've been searching everywhere for you, and someone finally called, saying you were out here. I got here as quickly as I could! Get in the car, we'll talk on the way."

"Um, alright," Jimmy said, uncertain as she began dragging him towards her vehicle. It was, he saw with some trepidation, a tiny Volkswagen Beetle. He winced. "I, um, my wings, I don't know how…?"

The woman, Hannah, never slowed down. She opened the back door and started throwing things aside to make room. Well, at least she'd recognized that Jimmy couldn't sit in the front. He blinked in surprise when she absently tossed aside a familiar-looking black feather. "I've been in this car before? You do know me!"

"Of course I do," she called absently. "Look, we'll talk on the way. Just get in, would you? Too many people have seen you as it is!"

Jimmy wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but apparently he wasn't being given a choice. Hannah had him by the arm and was all but forcing him into the backseat of the car. "Get in, quick! We've got a long way to go."

Jimmy reluctantly allowed himself to be pushed into the car. Hannah quickly got behind the wheel and started out. "Who are you?" he asked. "I'm sorry, you obviously know me, but I'm afraid I don't have any idea who you are."

She groaned. "So you were telling the truth? We saw a news article about you while we were searching for you these past few weeks, and it said you'd lost your memory. I figured it was a long con, but you were actually serious." She shook her head. "I should have known. You never were much of a liar. Any time you had to go off-script, one of us pretty much always had to step in."

"One of us?" Jimmy echoed. He frowned and dug the folded newspaper out of his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to her. "Were you a part of this? Adler's Angelic Revival?"

"I'm Hannah, Emmanuel," she explained with forced patience. "Zachariah's wife. And you're in big trouble once Zachariah gets his hands on you!" She shook her head. "I still cannot believe you ran away."

"I ran away? And why would I do that?"

She seemed to cringe. "It was my fault. I didn't close the door properly when I locked you in, because we'd been arguing and I was upset. You must have gotten curious and went out, even though you know you're not supposed to get out unless it's for a show. Zachariah was furious with me."

Jimmy frowned. "I'm sorry you got in trouble," he began, "but I'm not sorry I left. Why wasn't I supposed to go out? Why would you lock me away?"

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" she marveled. "Yes, Emmanuel, we have to lock you away. Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Jimmy sat back, hurt, remembering people's reactions to him.

Hannah didn't seem to notice. "I still cannot believe you ran away, and right after our biggest and best show to date! We had to lie low for two weeks just to get away from the nuts who kept following us, determined to pay whatever it took to see the Angel Castiel again for one more miracle. Why do you think it took us this long to find you?"

"And now you're taking me back to Adler," Jimmy realized. "You're planning to lock me away again, and use me in your shows." A slow anger was starting to build in him at the thought.

"Yes, and not a moment too soon," Hannah grumbled, oblivious. "We were just about to come after you. There's a reason we don't stay too long in the same town. Things are starting to heat up, and no, Emmanuel, I'm not speaking about the weather. We were actually glad we found you so far away because we're going to have to put this shitty swamp behind us as soon as we can anyway. Time for Adler's Angelic Revival to pull up stakes and set up somewhere else!"

"I won't be a part of it," Jimmy declared, frowning at her in the rearview mirror. "It's not right, what we've been doing."

She glanced back at him in the mirror, rolled her eyes, and groaned. "You don't remember who I am, but you still remember that stupid argument, huh? Fine. No more discussion until we get back to Zachariah."

"Fine." Jimmy settled back, willing his heart rate to slow. He was being taken back to Zachariah Adler. Alright. While he'd never anticipated actually meeting up with the man, much less dealing with both him and Hannah, Jimmy was confident in his plan. He'd see that all three of them faced justice. After all, he reasoned, there was no way Zachariah could force him to continue to play the part of the Angel Castiel. Things would work out.

Even if Dean never knew, Jimmy vowed he would do the man he loved proud. Dean had been determined to protect others. Now it was Jimmy's turn.