Sixteen

In the afternoon of the next day, Brooke sat in a chair at Sam's bedside, her chin resting on her knuckles. She stared at Sam's face without really seeing him and prayed to God, and to Castiel. She expected no answer from God, and only half-expected one from her husband. She received nothing. And Sam was not getting better.

He was in a coma, and had serious damage to his internal organs. The doctor had just told them a little while ago that if he continued in his current state, he would go brain-dead. After exploding at the doctor, Dean had left the room. Brooke stayed, waiting, though for what, she wasn't sure.

The angels had fallen to Earth. She didn't know if any of them still had their powers, but she assumed they did not, based on the sudden cut-off of her connection to Castiel at some point the night before. The last thing she had felt from him had been dread. A small part of her, the realistic part, kept repeating that he had died, somehow. Perhaps he had died in the fall. But she could let herself think about that, or she would completely break down, and she needed to be strong for Dean. And for Sam, even if Sam couldn't hear her.

Dean returned an hour or so after he had left, after the doctor had explained that Sam might go brain-dead. "Anything?" he asked, as he came in.

Without looking up, Brooke shook her head. She didn't know what Dean was referring to, but whatever it was, it hadn't happened. Sam had not miraculously woken up, Castiel had not called her or magically appeared… She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and sighed.

"All right, why don't you go stretch your legs or somethin'," Dean offered. "You've been sittin' there forever."

Brooke nodded, numbly, and stood up, just as a woman walked through the door.

"Hi," said Dean, looking strangely alert. "I'm just gonna break the ice—are you an angel?"

Brooke stared at Dean. "What?" she snapped. What she really meant was, What the fuck did you do? Why would Dean assume that a woman walking through the door was an angel?

The woman laughed awkwardly. "Sometimes I wish I were. My name is Kim Schortz, and I'm a grief counselor here at the hospital."

Brooke quickly walked past the woman and out the door. She didn't know where she was going—she had no destination in mind—but she didn't want to stick around and listen to a grief counselor talk to Dean about how his brother was gonna die.

Not for the first time that day, she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and called the last number that Castiel had had. And, not the first the time that day, she got no answer.

"Fuck," she muttered, and paced the hallways.

A few minutes later, Dean went past her down the hall, but she did not follow.

###

Dean returned some time later, with an angel in tow. She could feel its Grace before it appeared around the corner with Dean, in a male body.

Brooke began to reach into her coat for her angel blade, but Dean put a hand out, no. When he reached her, he yanked her into the room with him, and the angel followed.

Before either Dean or the angel could say anything, she wrenched free of the Winchester's grasp and grabbed the angel by his jacket. "Where is my husband?" she demanded. "Where is Castiel?"

"Brooke, get off him," Dean said, loudly.

But the angel stared, sadly, down at Brooke, seemingly unbothered. He placed both hands on top of hers where she was holding onto his jacket. "I am sorry," he said, and that formal, slow speech reminded her so much of Castiel that a sob escaped her, unbidden. "I know not where Castiel is. Be warned, many angels look for… for the angel you call your husband. They are hunting for him. They blame him for our fall. If they find him, he will be killed."

"Hey, this isn't about him!" Dean spoke up. "Can you cure my brother, or not?"

Brooke let go of the angel's jacket and sat heavily in the chair.

"Yes," the angel said. "I should be, but… he's so weak."

Brooke's cellphone rang. She did not recognize the number, but hope fluttered in her chest. "Hello?" she asked, shakily.

"Brooke," Castiel said.

Brooke stifled a sob with her hand, stared at Dean for a moment, and then stumbled from the room. "Cass," she croaked, her voice breaking. "Are you all right."

"I… I don't know. I'm alive, so I suppose that means I'm all right."

Brooke shook her head. "What happened?"

"Metatron tricked me," Castiel said. "It wasn't angel Trials. It was a spell."

"I had a feeling…" Brooke replied, rubbing her face with her hand.

"Brooke…" He said her name again, and there was something off in his voice.

"What is it?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"Metatron… He took my Grace."

The blood drained from Brooke's face, and she felt faint. "Well," she said, her voice shaking. "That would explain why I felt our mental connection go out."

"Yes," said Castiel, seriously. "Listen, is Sam all right? Dean?"

"Hold on," Brooke said, and turned to go back into the hospital room, but Dean was standing a few feet away, looking impatiently at her. She handed the phone to him.

"Cass?" Dean said. "Listen…"

Dean explained the situation with Sam, and about the angel who was going to help him. Ezekiel was his name, apparently. And then Dean told Castiel about the hoards of angels out looking for him, how needed to get himself to the bunker and hide out, or risk death.

Brooke could not hear Castiel on the other end of the phone, but judging by Dean's face, he was arguing about going to the bunker.

"No, Cass, I know you wanna help, okay?" Dean said, sounding exasperated. "I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I'm begging you—" he glanced at Brooke. "Brooke and I are both begging you, for once, look out for yourself."

Brooke nodded in agreement. It was what she would have said to Castiel.

"Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody," Dean continued. Pause. "Damn it, Cass! You hearing yourself? There's a war on, and it's on you. There's thousands of 'em out th—

Brooke snatched the phone out of his hand. Dean looked pissed but she ignored him. "Listen to me, Castiel," she demanded. "You lost your Grace. That means you're human now. That means you can't fight off a horde of angels all looking for you. You bleed now. You sleep. You cannot keep a watch out twenty-four/seven, and you're not as fast or as strong as you were. You will die if you don't hide."

"I cannot simply hide away, Brooke," Castiel said. His voice was not hard—it was as if he were begging for her permission. "I did this."

"If you're about to say 'And I can fix it,' so help me," she muttered. "I am your wife. Who is more important to you? The angels who all hate you and want you dead, or me and Dean, the two humans who love you and would do anything for you and are begging you to go to the bunker where you will be safe?"

"Brooke…"

"Castiel, I swear to God," she said, and her voice broke again, as fresh sobs emerged. "I just spent the last night and half the day thinking you were dead." She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment as a sob overtook her. "Don't fucking do this to me. If you actually die, I—I can't—

"All right," Castiel said.

And Brooke took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, as relief flooded her.

He sighed, a long sound. "All right," he said again. "I'll… I'll go to the bunker."

"Thank you," she whispered—

—and right then, the angels showed up. The whole hospital building started to shake.

"What the hell?" Brooke said, looking around, as, all around her, people started screaming in alarm.

"What's going on?" Castiel asked.

"I—I don't know," she said.

"I think we got more company," Dean said.

"More angels?" Brooke surmised. "What the hell did you do?"

"What is going on?" Castiel repeated, sounding very worried, now.

"Cass, go to the bunker, alone," Brooke said, enunciating each word in the same way that a mom yelling at her kid will call them by their full name (middle included) to put the fear of God into them. "And call me when you get there so I know you're safe." She hung up and followed quickly after Dean as he made his way to Sam's hospital room.

###

Brooke sat in the chair in Sam's room, holding her head in her hands, as she felt and heard dozens of angels circling the hospital, looking for vessels. None got into Sam's room, and the angel warding helped, but she could still sense them, oppressive and angry, closing in. On the other side of the room sat Ezekiel, and his own negativity—the pain of being locked in a room warded against angels—also penetrated her mind. She could hold it off much better than she might have several years ago, without the protection of Castiel's Grace, but it was still a nuisance. Still, it let her know one thing—that the Grace in her blood was still there, and that it still worked. Perhaps she could find a way to give it to Castiel, although she doubted he would take it. They had broached the subject before, and his fear had always been that she would die were it to be taken from her.

Suddenly, the oppressive force of the angels circling the hospital disappeared. Brooke let go of her head and looked up when Sam's monitor began beeping quickly—some kind of alarm. She stood up, a little woozily, and went to look at the Winchester, but his face still seemed so calm. "What's happening?" she asked.

And just then, Dean came back into the room, his face covered in blood. He heard the beeping of the monitor and asked Ezekiel the same question.

"This just started," the angel replied. "And the warding… I'm afraid I'm weaker than I thought."

Dean began to draw lines through the warding symbols, canceling their magic.

But it seemed that even that would not be enough. In the end, Ezekiel believed that the only way to save Sam was by possessing him, which would allow the angel to heal him from the inside, while also giving himself a chance to heal.

Brooke wanted to believe that Ezekiel only had Sam's best interests at heart, but the last time she had trusted an angel other than Castiel, that angel—Metatron—had caused the fall of all the other angels, and had stolen her husband's Grace. "I don't like this," she said.

"Yeah, me neither," Dean said.

But in the end, there wasn't much choice. It was either let an angel possess Sam, or let him die. But angels could only possess humans with their permission, and getting that permission would be tricky. Brooke sat and watched as Ezekiel connected Dean's mind to Sam's so that the brothers could speak to each other. And somehow, in doing that, Sam said yes to the possession.

Ezekiel's true form suddenly flew from the mouth of the man he had been possessing and into Sam, who lit up like the sun for a moment. Sam sat up in the bed, but his movements were slow and methodical. It was not Sam in control. It was Ezekiel.

Brooke's cellphone rang, suddenly, which startled her. She answered it without looking to see who it was, still looking at Ezekiel, whose true form was leaking from Sam, visible to her eyes only. "Hello?" she asked, into the phone.

"It's me," Castiel said.

Immediately, Brooke was focused only on the phone call. "It hasn't been long enough for you to have gotten to the bunker," she said. "What happened?"

Castiel was breathing heavily. "An angel… Hael. She attacked me. Knocked me out. Put me in car and… She wanted to take me with her to the Grand Canyon."

Brooke shook her head. "Get to the important part. Are you okay? Where did she go?"

"My head is bleeding a little, still," Castiel said. "Actually, a lot of me is bleeding, but they're only surface wounds… mostly. I killed Hael. I'm… My clothes were covered in blood, so I'm at a laundromat. I stole the cellphone from the woman Hael was possessing."

Brooke was already halfway out the door. "Where are you, exactly? Give me an address."

He told her.

"Stay there, I'm coming to get you."

"No, that's not…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Have you forgotten that I am your wife?" she hissed. "You are injured and you're human, and there are thousands of angels looking for you, and it sounds like one of them almost killed you already. I am coming to get you."

"You're right," Castiel said, and his voice had gone soft. "Of course. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Brooke replied, allowing her own voice to go soft. "Just… just wait there for me. I'll get there as soon as I can. It might be a few hours." She thought for a moment. "Do you have money?"

"Some."

"Find something to eat and drink. You're human. You gotta feed yourself."

"Yes, I… I'm beginning to realize that."

Brooke was going down the stairs to the first floor. She was headed for the parking garage, to steal a car. "I love you," she said.

"I love you," he replied.

She hung up.