Part Two: Jimmy

Upon waking, Dean thought of Graceland and Castiel. He swung his legs out of bed and thought about what he could do, but absolutely nothing came to him.

"Cas," Dean called out in the room. "Cas!" He waited awhile on the edge of the bed, looked furtively about him, and pursed his lips sullenly when he got no answer. Finally, he trotted into the bathroom, showered and dressed for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

If the angel had fallen from Heaven today, it would be nine months before he was born. Maybe not even that, if the Apocalypse obliterated humanity from the face of the Earth first.

Dean remembered how they'd located Anna's Grace and fetched his laptop from the trunk, where it caught his attention that Sam had taken some weapons from him. In the motel room, he searched online for meteor and lightning strikes, or some such unusual natural occurrence, something similar to how Anna's fall had marked her crash site; at first only within the state he was in, then widening the search to the USA and finally worldwide.

"Fuck, meteor shower observed over Siberia...great landing spot, Cas," murmured Dean grimly. He decided to look again later, Castiel probably hadn't landed at all yet, or the news of a natural phenomenon hadn't reached the internet. He only hoped that the angel was not dead or being tortured.

Full of impatience, Dean paced around the motel room until his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything solid for a long time. He gathered his things and handed in his key, as he was sure he wasn't going to return. After a filling meal, Dean's thoughts drifted once again to Castiel's whereabouts. First he'd lost Sam, and now Castiel. When it came to the latter, he couldn't be satisfied without further information.

Dean was driving aimlessly around in the Impala when an idea came to him. He parked in the parking lot of a supermarket and walked a few metres on foot until there was no one in his general vicinity.

"Anna," he called, and looked towards the sky. "Anna, if you can hear me, I need your help." He waited briefly and looked behind him. "Cas said he's...he's going to fall from Heaven. Like you. I need to find him, before the others do and kill him. Anna. Please."

"Dean."

He whirled around. Before him stood the pretty, red-haired Angel, whom not very long ago he had liked very much. At first glance, she hadn't changed a bit, and yet after her return to Heaven she seemed to him more distant, more angelic.

"Anna! Have you seen Cas? Has he fallen already?"

"Castiel has left the human vessel. I haven't found him, but Castiel in on Earth, he's just covered his tracks well," answered Anna, stepping closer.

"The vessel?" Dean asked, irritated. He'd completely forgotten that that body didn't belong to Castiel at all, but rather had been possessed – just like with demons. In his thoughts, the angel had been one with the body, since he had never seem him differently. "Where is he? Maybe he knows what Cas had planned."

"He is home in Pontiac, Illinois."

Dean rubbed his chin with his fingers. "That's two days with the Impala. At least." He looked at Anna. "Can you zap me to him?"

Anna touched her hand to Dean's arm. "I too want to know if he is safe."

A moment later they found themselves both on a footpath in front of a house. Anna said goodbye to Dean, since she didn't want to lead anyone to him, but promised to keep looking for Castiel and to give him the downlow if she should find him.

Dean climbed the few steps to the veranda. The house was in good condition and reminded him of all the suburbs in which he'd wished to live as a young boy. The sign above the doorbell said that a family called Novak lived here. Dean was about to ring the bell when he realised that the door was ajar.

He gave the door a light push and stepped soundlessly inside. Of course, Dean's weapons were lying safe and dry in his car in another state. He bit his tongue, stifling a curse, as he heard something from the room to the right of the door.

The man, Castiel's former vessel, picked himself up from the floor and grabbed the first thing available that he could use as a weapon: a small, heavy statue. "Clear off, demon!" he hissed.

Dean saw the two corpses, a girl and a woman, lying in their own blood on the floor. There were blood sprays all over the furniture and wooden floor. Two chairs lay tipped over by the dining table; a fight had obviously taken place.

"I'm not a demon, Ca–" answered Dean, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. "I'm Dean. A friend of Castiel's."

"Castiel," he echoed. He looked thoughtful for a moment. Then his facial expression changed, eyebrows coming together wrathfully as he remembered who he had to thank for everything. "He's not here anymore. My name is Jimmy Novak." He lowered the statue in his hand and turned towards his family.

Dean came closer. He saw the obliterated salt lines on the floor and concluded that Jimmy still knew how to protect himself from demons. Upon nearing him, he saw a dead man behind the dining table; a bit farther behind, a bloody kitchen knife. Presumably the man had been possessed by a demon.

"They murdered my family," said Jimmy.

"I'm sorry."

Jimmy looked up briefly, but said nothing.

"We should disappear, before they come back. And they will come back."

Jimmy cowered on the floor next to his dead wife Amelia. He touched her face, felt the warm skin under his fingers. With her closed eyes, she looked peaceful, as if she'd only nodded off and would wake at any moment.

"I won't come with you. They're dead. In this past year I've been shot and stabbed and healed. My body's been catapulted from one place to the next, and that's not even the worst. The worst is that Amelia and Claire are dead. Why should I want to flee?"

"Jimmy, they're going to torture you to get you to spill everything Castiel knew," Dean warned.

He said to Dean bitterly, "Castiel promised to protect them."

"He would have protected them if he could've."

"They should take me. I know nothing. I remember little of what happened in this past year." Jimmy directed his words to Dean. "I saw through my eyes, but they no longer belonged to me. I was trapped in my own body."

"I'm sorry about what happened to you and your family. Angels are assholes, but Castiel is different, he wouldn't have allowed them to die if he could have prevented it. Castiel's vanished. Can you remember what happened?" implored Dean.

"I know nothing." Jimmy shrugged his shoulders reluctantly. He took his wife's hand and kissed her, unconsciously folding her hands as he laid her back down. He stroked his daughter with one hand, which he allowed to linger over her blonde hair.

Dean, who could only see Jimmy's back, carefully suggested, "Maybe you'll remember something if you give yourself time."

Dean contemplated calling Bobby, who surely knew more mediums like Pamela who could help spark Jimmy's memory. However, something inside him baulked at that, as he didn't believe Bobby could explain what was wrong with him. Even he didn't know what he wanted, how to help himself. Accusations – even from Bobby – were something he didn't want to hear right now.

He was put at ease when he saw that Jimmy was standing up. He still wore the same clothes, the same trenchcoat, that immediately made him think of Castiel. Even his unhappy facial expression looked like Castiel's.

They took Amelia's white Honda, parked on the driveway. Jimmy readily relinquished the keys to Dean and dwelled on his thoughts while Dean drove them back to his car. They took a rest-stop in a restaurant. Dean watched Jimmy consume enormous burgers; his appetite was, despite the tragedy, unabated – he was virtually starving. During the meal, Dean tried to winkle more information out of him, but the turn-out was pretty poor.

In the night, Jimmy lay in bed in his clothes, completely exhausted and hopeless. Dean observed him with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a peculiar feeling in his belly. He looked like Castiel, but he moved and spoke differently. His face spoke volumes as they talked, whereas the angel had maintained his stoic demeanour almost constantly, but nevertheless there had been moments in which Castiel had seemed very human to Dean. Jimmy's presence confused him, because he knew only the angel in this body. It was very unfamiliar to see the same body and yet not the same person at his side.

Dean knocked back his glass, opened his laptop and searched anew for a natural occurrence that would indicate Castiel's crash into the Earth.

At first morning light, unbeknownst to Jimmy, Dean had called Anna, but had received no answer. On that day they, put a large portion of road behind them.

In the evening, Jimmy sat at the table in his boxers and a T-shirt he had borrowed from Dean. He had felt distinctly rumpled after he'd woken up in the morning, still in his things, and had been thankful for fresh clothes. Jimmy was ready to talk with Dean today – and to get drunk. Without asking, he helped himself to Dean's alcohol supply.

"Do you know how overwhelming it was when Castiel spoke to me? An angel spoke to me! To me! I could barely believe it. It was proof. There is a God. Nothing could make a believer happier." Jimmy's eyes lit up. He was already slightly tipsy and was starting to really gain momentum.

"That was before you knew that angels aren't all Matt Damon and Ben Affleck," guessed Dean.

Jimmy ignored Dean's comment. "Oh man, I don't remeber when I last drank alcohol anymore. It feels...great." He laughed hysterically, downed the rest in one gulp, then hissed through his teeth. The whiskey burned superbly. "If I had to choose between God...God, his angels, his lackeys or my family, then I would choose my family. I couldn't bury them, not that it would do anything for me if they lay in God's holy cemetery or not – their souls have gone."

In a chatty mood, he began to talk about Claire, his daughter, and how it had been when she was a baby. Often, he'd walked naked through the house with her in his arms, because she loved direct skin contact and fell asleep more quickly like that. Jimmy talked about farts and diapers and a new mattress, which was too much information for Dean. He must have been a proud father.

Dean tried to smoothly change the subject, noticing how much talking about his family was getting to him, but it was too late. One moment, Jimmy was still smiling; the next, the first tears were suddenly rolling down his cheeks. "I'm never going to see them again," he uttered, and snivelled dreadfully. Dean gazed at him powerlessly, but Jimmy didn't stop, so Dean stood from his chair and flung his arms around the other's torso.

Sobbing, Jimmy laid his head on Dean's shoulder. His entire body shook with distress.

"Shh, shh..." whispered Dean. He patted his back with one hand until he slowly calmed down.

Jimmy apologised for his dramatic scene. He gave Dean a small smile that warned he might easily start crying again, but then he recovered himself.

Somewhat croakily he said, "I wish I'd never passed Castiel's tests."

"Cas would have saved them if he could."

"I should have said no."

Abashed, Dean stared at his hands. "Castiel keeps his promises."

Jimmy nodded wryly. He held still and stared into his glass. "I would kill myself if it meant that I'd see them in Heaven, but suicides go to Hell. But even that isn't certain. Not after you get to know God's angels..."

"Don't you believe in God anymore?"

Worn out, Jimmy laid his head in his hands and briefly shut his eyes. He'd believed in God since he was a boy. And he still did, only God hadn't believed in him, in humanity or even His angels. God had made himself a new Paradise somewhere, and His old creation had faded into obscurity.

"I don't know," he answered Dean, and demanded a refill. Dean poured generously for Jimmy and himself. The whiskey warmed him from within and made him feel a bit as if he were wrapped in cotton wool. With a mellow smile, he asked Dean about God, who shrugged.

"Guess the guy up there's not especially inclined to talk to me – and me neither. I broke the fucking first seal. Set the Apocalypse in motion." Dean drank a large gulp.

"Castiel was..." Jimmy searched for the right word. "...overwhelmed. Shocked. It was one of the strongest feelings I can remember. You were lying in hospital, seriously injured by Alistair, who they – Castiel and Uriel – had sicked you on. Castiel felt powerless, because he hadn't been able to help you."

Dean was silent. He'd hit his nadir that day, tears had flowed. Not even Castiel's trust in him had been able to help him at that time, even if he had been happy to wake up to find him at the side of his hospital bed. Sam had...not been an option. Since Dean had returned from Hell, their relationship had gotten worse and, at some point, Castiel had taken over Sam's place in Dean's heart.

The search for the angel tore him out of the hole into which he had fallen after his stay at the hospital. He needed that task. He had to pay back some of the debt, so often that Castiel had helped him and saved his life.

"Do you know what the difference between demons and angels is?" Jimmy swirled his glass in excitement, as if he were about to tell a joke. "Demons were once human, angels never were. Demons lost their humanity, angels never had the faintest clue what it meant to be human, just as little as God. Castiel is different, exceptions like him only prove the rule."

"And now he's gone..."

Dean noticed Jimmy's staring gaze while he occupied himself with the whiskey. His silent staring became uncomfortable over time; Dean was relieved when Jimmy broke the silence.

"It almost feels like I know you."

Who are you saying that to? thought Dean.

Convinced, Jimmy declared: "I'll help you find him."