Title: Under the Influence of Djinn
Chapter: Thirteen
Summary: AU: The Djinn siblings created a terrible detailed nightmare for Dean out of revenge, nearly killing him, Lisa, and Ben. With Sam alive, Castiel missing, and Campbell cousins in tow, he tries to pull himself back together.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke. No disrespect in intended with this work of fan fiction.
Notes: Thank you to all who are reading.

A bone weariness encased Jo after their escape, the sort that made her want to sleep for days. She couldn't stop yet, however. Castiel may think that roll of money she'd given him was a lot (she certainly had back when she was young and naïve), but it wasn't much. It'd get him basic food, transportation and the cheapest motel for a couple nights.

She had work to do. There wasn't the luxury of resting long, not yet. Her refusal to rest for more than a short while at a time had bothered Castiel, though he'd made a good show at pretending he wasn't worried about her. She hadn't known how to explain to him that she couldn't rest until the knot in her stomach eased. That knot was something she remembered well from her first months out on her own. It was the knot of uncertainty, of not knowing if she had enough money for the basics, and it would ease in time. There were things she could do to make it ease, such as getting all gussied up, heading out, and working a con or two as fast as she could.

Castiel could stay at the motel and start an actual search for Dean. It'd give him something to focus on and keep him out of her hair for awhile. Jo didn't think they had a snowball's chance in hell of finding Dean, but it made Castiel feel better to try.

At the door to one bar, she paused. It was difficult to feel any sort of enthusiasm for running a con and maybe that should alarm her, but it didn't. She wasn't eighteen anymore or even twenty-four. It had been easier at those ages to rush ahead with such things. She'd been more reckless when she was younger and then spending so much time with her mother had given her a different perspective.

Dying had given her yet another different perspective.

Jo felt a sharp pang of what seemed almost like homesickness in her stomach and pressed a hand to it. Things were definitely different. Now, she had a life ahead of her that wasn't supposed to be and an ex-angel to tutor in humanity.

What did she want to do with her new lease on life? Jo could literally do anything, from returning to hunting to taking a mundane job somewhere to help them get by. She could take classes. The problem was that she didn't know what she wanted. Nothing appealed, not even hunting. There was nothing on earth that she wanted to do, no place she wanted to be. She was…displaced. Earth wasn't supposed to be her place anymore and here she was, back in the grind. It was disappointing and emotionally painful.

But she'd do this and make it work because she was a Harvelle and her mother hadn't raised her to give up and maybe, just maybe, that pain of returning to earth would disappear.

The speed limit on this stretch of road was fifty-five, but Dean pushed to seventy-five. Ever since Sam had found that article online, Dean's gut had been screaming to hurry. This was no leisured trek across several states, but a race to get to the scene before everything was gone. They were nearly there now and that feeling he had hadn't letup once, getting stronger the closer they got. This might not be Castiel, but there was something here that connected to him. He was sure of it and didn't even try to figure out how he knew.

Gwen leaned over the seat, reaching for the bag of chips. Christian and Mark had kicked her out of their car an hour earlier for being annoying. "What's in West Virginia?" She sat back with the bag. "You didn't say except for 'hurry your asses'."

"Might be a lead on Castiel," Dean told her.

"How is a dead woman a lead on him?"

Sam half turned in the seat. "There were symbols he taught us at the scene and angel wing marks burned into the ground at the body."

"Ah. Gotcha."

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. "How's the slushie?" He'd bought her the bucket size to repay her for having bought him one on the trip to Bobby's. She was by far his favorite of the three cousins. The other two were growing on him though.

Mark was observant and sort of like Sam in the research department. Dean had decided that, give him a couple decades and a home base, Mark could easily turn into Bobby.

Christian had been true to his word and had been calling around about that lynch mob Sam suspected. So far, Christian was right. There were only a few who were out for blood and were actively trying to recruit others. Not exactly a mob, yet nothing to ignore either. They needed to be careful. Christian was making a list of all he'd talked to, where they stood, and who they'd heard anything from. It sounded like Walt and Roy had been the original source. That information wasn't a shocker. They'd had it in for both Sam and Dean for awhile.

Maybe it was time to visit the two for that payback, especially since they'd beaten Sam in the recent past. Dean added that to his to-do list.

"Mighty tasty. Thanks for buying." Gwen munched a few chips from the bag. "Tell me about the symbols - unless it's some sort of secret between you three that no one else knows about."

"It's not a secret, just symbols that aren't widely known among humans." Sam opened a notebook and drew each one. "These are Enochian. Angelic language. I'd say there are only a handful of people who know them."

Dean snorted. "Handful? You, me, Bobby. I think that covers it. Oh, and now Gwen."

"More than two is a handful." Gwen grinned at him in the mirror. "Hell, one can be quite a handful if you get my meaning." With one finger at the earpiece of her sunglasses, she made them move up and down.

Sam looked back at her. Amusement colored his voice. "Drink your sugar-rush, Gwen."

"Don't mind if I do."

When they arrived, Dean left Gwen, Christian, and Mark at the motel and headed to the scene with Sam. The clerk, the very cliché of a stoner, was happy to take them to the room, talking as they walked.

"Dudes, I was totally not prepared for a murder. I mean, this neighborhood has some problems, but murder, it ain't one of them. Robbery, we got that like every day, but not a murder. Heard this noise and came out and saw that chick all dumped on the ground and stuff everywhere. Ruined my day."

There was crime scene tape still up, the door hung at an angle, and shards of glass dotted the walkway in front of the room. The angel wing burn marks were still clear, stretching out.

"You didn't clean up?" Sam began taking pictures.

"Manager is still on a vacay. I don't do nothing unless he says."

Dean did a tour of the room, studying the symbols and the way they were drawn. Hope flared inside him. That was Castiel's technique, just as unique to him as handwriting was to everyone else. He pointed to one symbol. "Sam?"

"Looks an awful lot like his way of drawing them."

Nice that Sam agreed. He stepped outside. "Who rented the room?"

"This cute blond. Tight little bod. Long hair." He whistled and waggled his brows in a lecherous manner. "She was a looker. Too bad she was cray-cray, right? Put up all those symbols and the police said the one looked like it was drawn in blood. Blood, dude. Why are all the crazy chicks smokin' hot?"

Dean felt a prickle of disappointment. Maybe Castiel had come later? Or before her? "You're sure you didn't see anyone else with her? A white male in his thirties in a coat and suit maybe?"

The clerk shook his head, then held up a finger. "Wait. She did walk up with some guy and he might've been thirty-something, but he weren't wearing no coat and suit. Sweatshirt I think. Jeans."

"Anything else? Get a look at him?"

"Um….Dark hair?"

"You got surveillance tapes?"

The clerk laughed. "Police already asked. Those cameras there are for show."

"Right. Thanks."

In the car, Dean looked at Sam. "It was him."

"Looks like, but who was the woman?"

"Beats me. What do you think? He trying to stay ahead of Raphael and the dead woman was one of Raphael's goons?"

"Could be."

At least Castiel was still out there. Their newfound knowledge didn't, however, address why he hadn't contacted them and Dean continued to worry about him.

Castiel spent the hours Jo was gone reading the papers and making notes. He was still awake when she returned in the wee hours of the morning, a thick roll of cash in her pocket. She said little, merely got ready for bed and went to sleep. He stayed up awhile longer before turning in and was back at his task in the morning before Jo woke up.

This went on for four days. Jo would be out late and return with cash. She'd then sleep a chunk of the day and say nothing when he presented her with what he thought were potential ghosts. Castiel set those aside and continued to search for other possible cases.

He drank cups of bitter coffee and pretended he wasn't spending more time watching Jo sleep than looking for a direction in the papers. She'd told him not to watch her sleep and yet he wanted to do just that. He wanted to lie down on the bed beside her so he could feel her breaths and smell her perfume. It was an urge he squelched over and over.

For nearly a week and a half, Castiel battled strange feelings inside himself, staying silent when Jo asked what was wrong. This was something in his body that was wrong and he had no idea what it was or how to even talk to Jo about it.

Jo came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, her wet hair braided. A cloud of fragrant steam followed her and Castiel took a deep breath, enjoying the scent. It was sweet and flowery without being overpowering. A clean, appealing scent.

She began to sort through the items at the end of the bed. "We need to do laundry tomorrow."

His heart rate increased, body stirring in rather pleasant ways. That stirring had been happening quite a bit lately. He turned his head, sliding his gaze over her slim form. The shape of her body was pleasing and Castiel slowly slid towards the end of the bed to be closer, taking what he thought was another discreet sniff.

"You need a tissue," she asked. "Box in in the bathroom." Jo bent to set clothes on the floor. Her shirt gaped from her chest.

He gulped, chin raising slightly as he tried to see further down her shirt.

"You know how to do laundry?"

With one hand, he blotted away the drops of sweat that now dotted his forehead. "I'm familiar with the process."

She glanced up and he quickly directed his attention elsewhere.

"You know how or you just watched Sam and Dean?"

He smiled a little at that. She knew him fairly well after a couple weeks. "The latter."

"How did I know," she muttered and sat down to put on a pair of socks. Her toenails were painted a bright pink.

Castiel slid around the corner of the bed to sit beside her.

Jo paused in putting on one sock. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You're sweating." Raising a hand, she touched his forehead. "Warm, too. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm well," he assured her. He was well, too. He'd only had two more migraines since that first one and it appeared that the main trigger was waiting too long to eat.

"If you're sure." She finished putting on her socks and stood, going to the dresser and reaching for the phone charger. Bending, she plugged it in.

He watched her every move, mouth opening. What should he do? What would Dean do?

Dean would tell him hands off his Jo despite her not being his or ever having had been his.

No. Castiel licked his lips. Not 'what would Dean do'. What would Dean do in his place?

Dean would approach her. He'd kiss her. Maybe. Would he? Should he kiss her? Did he want to? He'd never had these urges before, not even in that brothel Dean had taken him to. He did want to, he decided. Castiel wanted to kiss Jo. And more. Her skin looked soft and very touchable. He wanted to touch her skin, to run his hands slowly along her naked body, exploring every inch of her.

He stood. His palms were slick with sweat and he didn't give himself time to think. He caught her to him, swallowed his nervousness, and kissed her.

Something was up with Castiel. The sweating, the nervous, quick answers. Jo thought about it and the reason came to her even as he was catching her with an unexpected kiss.

Something was up all right. She felt that quite clearly when he held her close against him.

Uh-oh.

She pulled back, hands on his chest. "Whoa. Wait. What do you think you're doing?" She disentangled herself from him and put one chair between them. As kisses went, it hadn't been bad, merely inexperienced. Definitely enthusiastic and willing to explore the act to the fullest extent.

"Did I not perform the kiss correctly?" His brow furrowed with concern. "Was the tongue part not required? I'm sorry, Jo. I thought it was." He took a step towards the chair. "I can do better if you give me another try."

"Um…. Castiel, you're sweet, really you are, but I don't want that kind of relationship with you."

"Oh." He looked down at the floor.

"My definition of being a companion here for you, it doesn't include kissing, or sex, or anything that might lead to those."

"I'm having urges," he blurted out. "I either want to strangle you or touch you in familiar, intimate ways."

She saw frustration in his eyes when he returned his attention to her, but she didn't think it was sexual frustration. This was a different sort.

"I don't understand why I'm having these urges and thoughts. I had a dream about you last night that…. It was very…." He gestured with his hands, his expression indicating that it had been quite the hot and heavy dream.

"That's enough detail, okay? I don't need to know that."

"The last time I became human I didn't have this problem"

"Maybe you're going through puberty." Which actually made a weird amount of sense given his behavior the past couple weeks. He appeared to be growing in maturity as a human and sexual feelings were a part of being human. "Whatever it is, I'm going to get another room."

"I'm sorry. I won't kiss you again."

Probably not, but he kept looking down at her chest in a way that made her aware that he was male. It hadn't hit her before. He wasn't only a former angel, he was male, and that meant some of those things they'd talked about that she hadn't understood applied to him. It meant urges and him having to learn to navigate that minefield as well as everything else. Becoming human meant everything in the scope of humanity, not merely a slice here and there.

Dean's saving angel was really and truly becoming a man.

Jo could kick herself for not understanding it sooner. Dumb, she thought. I am so dumb.

"Please, Jo, don't go. I promise. No more kissing and I won't look at you below the neck."

He was pleading, begging her to stay, and damned if he wasn't using puppy dog eyes like she'd seen Sam use on her mother a few times in the past. He'd learned a few things well. That look was every bit as good as Sam's. "I don't know…."

"Please? I'll behave."

The more he directed it at her, the more she could feel herself wavering. "Fine, but one more hint of lechery and I get a separate room. I mean it."

His gaze dropped from hers, head bowing. After a few seconds, he glanced back up in an almost shy fashion that showed her a good bit of the sex appeal he was developing. Give him some time and he'd be as lethal as Dean. "Thank you, Jo."

"You're welcome. No flirting with me, either. Try it out on all the other women out there." She crossed her arms. "So, can I trust you not to molest me while I'm sleeping?"

"Of course." He seemed mildly offended by that suggestion. "Dean once told me that when a woman says no it means no and it means no as long as she wants it to. I believe that applies to states of unconsciousness as well."

She finished getting ready for bed and turned out the light a short while later. Castiel was developing a sexual identity. How had she not thought of that earlier? Jo rolled onto her side away from where he sat reading. She'd probably end up in a separate room anyway once he realized the motel room meant privacy and he could bring a woman back there if he wanted.

What, she wondered, would Dean think of this if they found him?