A/N: Thank you guests Kathy and shazza19 for reviewing again!

Chapter 4

Sam knew why his brother needed to go confront Amara, but he wished he'd gone with him. The Witch of the Waste was treacherous, and even though Dean had broken away from her influence a while ago, there would always be that lingering connection between them that she would try to exploit. Sam should have gone as backup.

But that might also prove to be a distraction if Dean was worried about watching out for Sam in the face of the wicked witch. Plus, someone needed to stay with Charlie, and Cas was hearth bound. Sam knew Cas hated not being able to go with Dean to help, too.

And so, like many times before, they were left at home to sit and wait for Dean to hopefully return safely. At first, Charlie puttered around the kitchen, washing the dishes from that morning and reorganizing the spices on the shelves. Sam sat down to once again pore over his magic books to see if he'd missed something when researching the counter curses. Cas simmered low in the fireplace, subdued.

Charlie eventually gave up cleaning things that weren't even in disarray and sat down at the table with Sam. Lunch time came and went, but no one suggested fixing anything.

As the afternoon rolled into evening, however, Sam finally got up and started putting together something for dinner. He wasn't really hungry, but they should eat, and have something ready for when Dean got back. He'd definitely be hungry…

Sam peeled some potatoes and sliced them up. He chopped some carrots too and threw them in a pot, which he filled with some water and spices, and stuck in the fireplace next to Cas. Cas didn't even grumble about it, and just silently slithered over to wrap around the cauldron and start heating it up. Sam found some cured ham and added that to the stew.

"He's been gone a really long time," Charlie spoke up.

"He might just be having a hard time finding Amara," Sam said. He ignored the wry look Cas flashed his way.

"You said the Witch of the Waste wants Dean, though," she went on. "Why?"

Sam shrugged. "She's attracted to power. And she's never gotten over his rejection."

"Because she's insane," Cas muttered.

Sam didn't disagree. He swept up the potato peelings and tossed them to Cas, who munched them down.

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "You said Dean was powerful. Is he more powerful than her?"

Sam and Cas exchanged a look. That was a question they didn't really have an answer to, as Dean had yet to fully test himself against Amara.

And hopefully today would not be that day…

The dial on the door clicked and turned, and Sam whipped his head toward it as the door opened and Dean strode inside.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed in relief.

His brother cracked a smile, glancing between him and Cas. "You look worried, fellas."

Sam just shook his head. "You're okay?" he checked.

"Fine."

Charlie pushed herself up from the bench. "Did you find the Witch of the Waste?"

Dean's expression sobered. "Yeah. She claims not to know how to remove the curse. Said she's more into casting them than removing them."

Charlie nodded like she'd been expecting that.

"Did she try to cast anything on you?" Cas asked.

"She tried, but I was faster. Relax, guys, I'm fine."

Sam let out a breath of tension. At least Dean was good at getting away when he chose to, and Sam was especially glad his brother hadn't tried to fight it out with Amara.

Dean gave Charlie a regretful look. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring back the cure for you."

Her face reddened. "Oh, it's okay. It was nice of you to try."

"We'll keep looking for something," he promised.

Charlie shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that. But, um, I was wondering if…maybe I could stay on as your cleaning lady?"

Sam's heart broke at the desperate plea in her frail voice.

Dean's expression also looked pained. "Yes, Charlie, you can stay," he said softly.

She offered up a wan smile. "Thank you." And then she excused herself to retreat to the small nook in the far corner where she climbed into bed, turning over to face the wall.

Dean sighed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked again, keeping his voice low.

"No." Dean ran a hand over his hair. "It's my fault this happened to her."

Sam hesitated a moment before asking curiously, "Why did you make the spectacle with her in the first place?" Really, it wasn't typically his brother's style.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "She looked like a lonely kid who needed someone to smile at her without wanting something." He lowered his head. "I remember how that was, except I had you."

Sam didn't say anything; he understood. "So what do we do now?"

Dean pursed his mouth as his expression turned pensive for a few moments. Then, he squared his shoulders. "We do some house cleaning."

The next morning, Dean was up bright and early (for him), and he headed downstairs with intentional perkiness in his step. Charlie and Sam were already up eating breakfast, and of course Cas never slept.

Dean clapped his hands together enthusiastically and declared, "It's moving day!"

Charlie paused with a spoonful of porridge halfway to her mouth. "Huh? You- you're leaving?"

"Not exactly," Sam said. "We're just going to relocate the doors."

"Oh." Charlie still looked confused, though. "Why?"

"It's good to shake things up every once in a while," Dean replied. "Plus, after meeting with Amara, she's probably closer to closing in on us, so it's better we move anyway."

Charlie's expression pinched. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt your lives so much."

"Charlie, no," Sam exclaimed. "We're not doing this because of you."

Dean kept his mouth shut, because technically they were, just not for the reasons Charlie was assuming.

"We move every few years or so," Sam went on. "It's just part of our lives."

"Oh. Okay." Charlie looked mildly reassured, which Dean supposed was the best he was going to get for now.

"Finish up," he told her. "This is going to get bumpy."

She hurriedly shoveled down the rest of her breakfast while Sam grabbed some chalk and started drawing a sigil on the wood floor. Dean moved the chairs out of the way and retrieved a shovel from the closet. Charlie finished her meal and dropped the bowl in the sink, turning to regard them curiously.

"Everything ready?" Dean asked.

Sam got up off the floor. "Yup." He turned to take Charlie's hand and helped her up to sit on the kitchen table, taking a seat beside her so their feet were off the ground.

"Okay, then." Dean turned to the fireplace and slid the shovel under Cas.

"Careful," Cas said nervously as Dean lifted him out.

"I gotcha."

Dean stepped into the middle of the sigil. With one hand holding Cas out in front of him, he spread his other out to the side. And then he took in a deep breath, opening himself up to connect with Cas's magic. The bond between them flared with increased strength as Cas tapped into Dean's innate magical talent as well. Static crackled on the air, and then Cas erupted into a raging blue fire that billowed nearly to the ceiling as his dormant power was unleashed. Cas let out a whoop at the surge, and Dean closed his eyes at the headiness of such magnified power.

He quickly got it under control, though, and focused his intent on the space around them. Not just the castle, but also time and space miles away as he found a place to settle one of the door anchors. He projected his intentions to Cas, who took the direction and wielded his magic accordingly. The walls twisted and contorted, pushing out a few feet to expand the kitchen. The front wall bulged outward into a bubble before popping into a nook window. Drawers and shelves flipped back and forth as they rearranged themselves around each other. Dean extended his magic to encompass the building in the town of Lark's Landing that would be one of their new base points.

Finally, he was done, and he drew back, letting the magic recede. Cas collapsed down to a small fireball again, his flames flopping to the sides as he went wobbly with exhaustion.

"Good job, buddy," Dean said, setting him gently back in the hearth. He grabbed two pieces of fresh fire wood and tucked them around Cas so he could simmer and recover.

Sam helped Charlie off the table, both of them gazing around and taking it all in. The kitchen was much brighter now that sunlight streamed through the panoramic window at the front. Dean had kept one bench, but replaced the other with two more proper chairs for the lot of them to eat around the table in. All the shelves and cupboards had gotten a new polish so that the wood grain was rich and deep and soaked in the light pouring over them. An area rug now covered the floor, and the nook in the back was now a reading alcove with bookshelves built into the crannies.

Dean took Charlie's hand and led her toward a door that was now set next to the nook. Inside was a brand new addition to the castle.

"Here's your room," he said proudly.

Charlie let out a surprised gasp. "Oh. You didn't have to…"

"That nook wasn't a proper bed," Dean interrupted. "And with how hard you work here, you need a decent mattress. It's practically foam."

Charlie turned in a slow circle. "It's so pretty," she breathed.

The bed had a nice purple quilt on top, and sheer curtains hung over a window that overlooked the mountains. A small vanity sat along one wall, and there was a sink and basin in the corner with fresh flowers in a thin vase placed on the porcelain. There were other delicate things decorating the room that were fit for a lady, and Dean watched Charlie's visage begin to shift as her wrinkles slowly smoothed out and she stood a little straighter.

"Is it okay?" he asked.

Charlie nodded. "It's more than okay."

Dean grinned. "Good, 'cause that's not all."

Her eyes widened as he took her hand and led her back out through the kitchen to the front door. He turned the dial to orange before opening the door into a stone courtyard. It was pretty bare, but Sam could start that vegetable garden he'd always wanted, and Charlie could plant some flowers. That wasn't the biggest surprise, though.

Dean took her across the courtyard and through a door into a small adjoining building. Inside were counters and tables piled with beads and feathers, sequins and faux gemstones. There was a rack holding dozens and dozens of different colored thread spools, and fabric and small wire casings in the back.

Charlie pulled up short. "What- it's a hat shop."

"It's your hat shop," Dean corrected.

Charlie whirled on him, eyes widening even further. "Mine?" she squeaked.

Dean couldn't hold back a pleased grin. "Yeah. It won't take you all day to keep the castle clean anymore, so you'll need something else to do. You could sell what you make, or just give them away. Whatever you want. Like I said, it's your hat shop."

Charlie's eyes glistened as she looked around the shop again.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered, clutching her hands up near her throat. "Why would you do this for me?"

"Because you deserve it."

And just like that, her visage shifted back to that of an aged woman, bowed over by years of burdens.

"You're being way too nice," she said, voice crackly.

Dean held back a sigh. He'd figured out how to break the curse, but the nature of it prevented him from telling Charlie outright. He could only hope that love and kindness would nurture the beautiful spirit he knew was within, and eventually set it free.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Come on, let's go back to the house and I'll make us some lunch."

Charlie offered him a wan smile. "Castiel sure looked like he could use some bacon."

Dean grinned back. "Yeah, he'd like that. And maybe we can make a pie too. It's been too long since I've had a treat like that."

Charlie's smile widened a little. "I can bake you one."

Dean draped an arm around her shoulders. "Awesome."