A/N: The inspiration for this story is from my other story -my main Supernatural fic- End of Me, specifically the Croatoan Future chapters. You don't have to read End of Me, or those chapters to understand what's going on here, but it would probably help a lot. This is set in the alternate future presented in season 5's episode The End, and explores the relationship between Jane (original character) and Castiel.

1: Evil Angel

Chuck had to be kidding. Of all the crazy things to ever come out of his mouth, and his I'm God bit until very recently been at the top of the list, this was by far the craziest. Jane just stared at him, at the notebooks he had presented her with, and tried to keep her hand down because it was itching to slap him silly. "You're not serious."

"It's all in there." He nodded, taking a step backwards because her intent was all over her face. "I don't know whether to say sorry or congratulations."

Dean was staring at Chuck out of tired eyes. "Not in the mood for your shit." He said flatly, glancing down at his wife. They had had a helluva long day, scavenging and fighting their way out of a stupid situation they had gotten themselves stuck in. All he wanted was a shower to wash the guts out of his hair and something to eat before passing out.

"Seriously, just read it. It might come in handy." Chuck smiled crookedly, feeling a bit awkward under their stares. "You know, being God's own experimental love doll." He was teasing her, trying to get her to crack a smile. Dean was a lost cause, the guy didn't smile much anymore.

"Experimental love doll?" Jane echoed, reaching out to take the notebooks. "What the hell?"

"It's pretty nifty really. God really must have liked playing mad scientist because he put you together from several different… uh, things. It's all in there."

Dean was paying attention now, his frown deepening. "What?"

Jane was walking away, taking the notebooks with her. Chuck's visions had been few and far between ever since Sam had said 'yes' in Detroit, agreeing to become the Devil's meat suit but occasionally he still got one. This had been the first in a few months, and given what she had just heard, she was very tempted to throw away the notebooks and pretend she hadn't heard it. This wasn't going to lead anywhere good. She could feel it.

"What the hell are you doing, Castiel?" By now, Jane had perfected what she termed the 'step-mother' tone of voice. It came from living with a bunch of men. When everything had gone down, with Sam, Satan, end of the world as they knew it and the ensuing apocalypse, Castiel had been one of the few angels who had remained. The others who hadn't fled, and there hadn't been many, had either fallen in battle or simply… gone silent, perhaps into hiding. Castiel himself, he seemed to be losing his Heavenly mojo and in response had been sinking into what might have been some weird kind of angel depression. "I really hope you're not drinking that old crap of Bobby's…"

Bobby, who was dead, his house ransacked, and the majority of the valuable stuff was now gone. They had gone in of course, and taken what they could, what they might need, but it had felt wrong. It felt wrong now, seeing the canning jar of homemade liquor. She didn't know why the few remaining jars had been taken; it had no medicinal purposes unless you wanted the flesh stripped from your bones. It had been sitting, until now.

"I am drinking that old crap of Bobby's."

"Jesus…" She sat down beside him, reaching out to take the jar from him and held it up, frowning. "You've already drank half, Cas. I know angel tolerance is the best, but…"

"Nope. No tolerance." Castiel eyeballed her hand, reaching out to take back the jar and missing by quite a bit. "I can imbibe and…" He giggled suddenly, trying again, frowning when Jane poured what was left onto the ground. "Not okay, Janey."

Jane wasn't amused. Only Dean called her that and he hadn't spoken to her since the other night, instead occupying himself with those damn notebooks of Chuck's. She had been intending to read them herself but… he had gotten there first and didn't seem inclined to give them up. "Cassie."

He winced.

Silence reigned as Jane surveyed the scene before them. It wasn't much to look at really, just woods, something they had all become very used too as of late. They were keeping away from overly populated places right now, especially with Satan in the middle of his play. She knew why Castiel was drinking, he was depressed, and she didn't blame him. She didn't know what to say to him either. What did you say to an angel who was becoming less of an angel and more of a monkey?

Being human sucked.

"Dean!"

"Get the hell away from me!"

Groaning, Castiel raised his head off what could have been a pillow. Nope, it was someone's bag… he reached back to rub the stiffness from his neck. That was new. He was becoming stiff… in the limbs, like humans. He had been lying here, perhaps dozing, he felt odd. Tired almost. They were accumulating a little caravan of survivors, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant maybe, just maybe, they had a chance, there was hope. Bad because too many people in a group tended to attract attention and that was something they didn't need.

Frowning, he sat up, ignoring how cold the bed of the pick-up truck he was lying in had gotten. Jane was scrambling away from Dean, who –contrary to his words of telling her to get away- was stalking after her. In his hands was a notebook, Castiel recognized it as one of Chuck's. The prophet had been busy and whatever it was he had been writing down apparently hadn't gone over well.

"Dean, please!" Jane was retreating and pleading at the same time, looking panicky and hurt, her usually pale face splotched with red. "I didn't know!"

"Bullshit!" Dean threw the notebooks at her. "Bullshit Jane! How long have you been-" He stopped, stuffing his fist in his mouth and bit down.

Castiel was on the ground now, regretting it because his head was pounding. Maybe drinking wasn't a vice he needed to take up. Forgetting was great but the aftermath was beginning to hurt, especially since he still had to drink fairly large amounts to get a proper drunk on. "Let's calm down." He said, his already raspy voice coming out like shards of broken glass had taken residence in his throat.

"You knew about her!" Dean whirled on him, apparently looking for an outlet to his anger. "You knew she was some sort of… a frickin' evil angel! That's why you've been… whatever the hell it is you do with her!"

"What?"

"Her dreams, you always showed up in her damn dreams, now I know why!"

"Dean, it's not like that, I swear-"

"Shut up, Jane!"

Castiel went reeling backwards when Dean punched him. It had hurt.

"Dean!" Jane was aware that a crowd was forming around them, eyeballing them all curiously. Dean was technically the de facto leader of their motley group and him losing it like this probably wasn't boosting confidence levels. "Stop it!"

He halted his advancing of Castiel, taking deep breaths as he regarded her, calming himself down. "Stay away from me, Jane." He said finally, flatly.

Cue the waterworks. She had done so well, suppressing them, but him saying that… it cut right through her. "Dean…"

"I've got to think. I can't do that with you around." His face scrunched up in thought. "Hell, maybe I never could."