Twenty

A few weeks after they were both fully recovered from being sick, they were walking hand-in-hand through a park, enjoying the day.

"Reminds me of Daphne," Brooke said. "Doing this. She always used to take us hiking, or walking through the park."

Castiel smiled a little sadly. "Yes," he said. "I remember." He paused in his walking, which caused Brooke to stop, also. He was looking at the ground with some amount of concentration, eyes flicking back and forth in thought.

"What is it?" Brooke asked, even now unused to the silence in her head, and wishing she could simply know, automatically, what was wrong.

"I've been thinking…" Castiel began, though he seemed unwilling to continue.

Brooke pulled him over to a bench and sat down. "Don't keep secrets," she said.

He sighed, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Since becoming human… most of my time has been spent being taken care of. Learning what to eat and when, learning how to care for my body—shaving, bathing. Learning to tend to wounds in a way I didn't used to have to do. I… I've hated feeling so powerless."

Brooke's heart broke for her husband, all over again. "You're not powerless," she said.

"No," he replied, looking up at her. "I'm not. I realized that when you got sick, and I got to care for you."

She smiled at him. "You were pretty good at it—taking care of me."

"Yes," he agreed. "I seemed to learn what to do very quickly, and… that's what got me thinking. I…" He paused, turning away from her, as if embarrassed.

"Hey," she said, sitting up a little straighter. "Channel your inner angel, Cass. I know you don't have the glow-y parts, but you've still got that personality somewhere in there. Come on. Get it out like you're angry." She laughed.

Castiel turned to stare at her for a moment, and then laughed, too. "All right," he said. "I'd like to get a job."

Brooke blinked at him, as if she hadn't heard him. "You what?"

He took a breath. "I may be human, now, but all I ever knew before this was… following orders. I was a soldier, a warrior. I… I lived to serve others. To do as I was told."

Brooke laughed again. "You always went against your orders," she argued.

"When they were corrupt, yes," he agreed. Then he placed a finger under chin. "But I always followed your orders."

"Mm," Brooke said, glancing around. "I can think of a few times where you directly disobeyed me, but you were bein' a dick, then."

"Would you just listen?"

She brought her eyes back to his and placed both hands on his face. "Yes. Tell me."

"I want to get a job so that I can… help people. It's what I feel I'm the best at. It's what I've always wanted to do. And since I can't—can't help Sam and Dean… and since you don't seem to need much help… I thought I'd get a job. That way I can go somewhere that I'm needed."

"Hey," Brooke said, in a teasing tone. "I need you."

Castiel smiled indulgently at her. "Yes, of course. But you know what I meant." He took a breath. "Now, I'm not sure how that would… work. It would mean we'd have to stay in the same place. We might have to put up extra warding, since we wouldn't be moving around anymore…" He seemed to get lost in thought, one hand atop hers, tracing his thumb over it.

Brooke studied him for a moment, and saw within him the capacity for greatness, even in something so mundane as a human job. If it was what would make him happy, then she would not deny him such a thing. "Whatever job you get," she said, "would be…" She pursed her lips. "I just want you to understand that you have no upper-level skills, at least in terms of what people look for in an employee. You'd be doing menial tasks, whatever they were. Cleaning, organizing… Stuff like that."

He smiled. "I don't mind that."

"No," she murmured. "I imagine you wouldn't. It's the order of it that you like, isn't it? Being given a task and being able to complete it." She looked at him askance. "You really are a bottom, at the end of the day, aren't you?"

He still smiled, but it faded, until it was only in the crinkle of his eyes. He lifted his chin and stared down at her. "Not with you," he said. "Not at the end of your day."

She laughed.

###

It took some doing, and she had to call Dean to email her some forged documents for Castiel to bring to job interviews.

"He wants to work?" Dean had asked, during one particular phone call.

"Yes," Brooke had said. "And why shouldn't he, if it's what he wants?"

"It's just… weird."

"You're weird," she had snapped at him. "Just send me the documents."

She coached Castiel during drives on what to say and what not to say, in order to have a better chance of getting hired, and she cheered him up when he was rejected.

"No one gets hired on the first try," she said. "Not usually the second, either. It could take weeks. Months."

As a matter of fact, it took only weeks. At the end of eight tries, he was hired at a gas station, inside the convenience store. And he was so stupidly excited about it that she pushed aside all of her own thoughts about how this job seemed so beneath him. Had he his powers back, he could be doing something that really mattered. But she didn't say that, because it would have been cruel, and she was glad, for once, that he could not read her mind. Truth be told, she was just as weirded out by him working as Dean had been, but she was Castiel's wife—meant to stand by his side and support him (which didn't mean she couldn't do her own thing, as well). She put on a happy face every day when she dropped him off at work. And he seemed… happy. Content. And, she had admit, he did look adorable in that stupid blue vest he had to wear, with his name tag on it: Steve.

It was such a common name, which is why he had chosen it. They had gone through numerous names. First Emmanuel, then Clarence, but had decided to ditch all names that he had already been known by, to make it harder to track him. Castiel did insist, however, on using Brooke's last name on all of his fake paperwork.

"Married couples usually share a last name, don't they?" he had asked. "And since I don't have a last name… shouldn't it be yours?" And he had looked up at her with those big, blue, puppy-dog eyes, and signed his fake name with an enthusiastic flourish: Steve Harris.

Brooke spent her days, usually, in the public library. If the boys ever found a case, she'd do research there, on her laptop, and pour through any old mythology books or things of that nature. The books at the library were nothing compared to the books at the bunker, or the ones that Bobby had had, but going through them made her feel like she was being, in some way, useful. She supposed she could get a job, too, but then everything would feel… real. Like she and Castiel had settled down, and that was… a terrifying thought.

It wasn't the commitment that scared her; if anyone was committed to a relationship, it was them. But… settling down in some random town and getting crappy jobs was not the life that Brooke dreamed of for herself and Castiel—and certainly not without his powers. She tried to bring up his Gracelessness too often, afraid to upset him, but she wondered to herself whether there was any way to power him back up. She did research on this, too, but without the proper resources back at the bunker, and with most religious texts getting a lot of things wrong, she was at a loss.

When she wasn't in the library, pouring over old books or searching the web, she was exercising in the park, or going shopping, anything to keep herself occupied. She came to relish the time of day that Castiel was off work, and would get out of the car and stand at the passenger-side door, waiting for him to come out of the convenience store. Were he some other man (or an actual human, for that matter), he might have been embarrassed by this. She was aware of that, which was the only reason she never actually went in to the store. But Castiel always had a big, bright smile for her when he came out, and always hugged her before he got into the car.

He never complained about his work, only ever having good things to say ("Today, I organized the entire back room. Everyone seemed pleased, so I'm happy.") but Brooke began to notice the way he winced when he got out of the car and stood on his feet again after a long day of doing nothing but standing on his feet. These little twinges of pain he felt seemed to stab through her. Even without the mental connection, without the pull of his Grace, she was still so in tune with his body, his needs, and it pained her to see him in pain. This feeling, hating that he was in pain, led to many massages of his lower back, his legs, even his feet—and this was a big deal because Brooke thought feet were disgusting.

Castiel always seemed at his most vulnerable during these massages. This was a way that neither of them had ever touched each other. In the past, they hadn't needed to. With a thought, Castiel could usually heal himself, and with a single touch, he could heal Brooke, so these slow, methodical movements were foreign to them both. Castiel seemed to melt at her touch, sighing appreciatively at every move she made. And when she would finish, he would, of course, reciprocate… which often led to other things.

All things considered, it was a good life. The best, perhaps, that Brooke could have hoped for, given the circumstances.

Nearly four months into this new life—Two and a half since Cass had gotten a job—Dean showed up. And. somehow, Brooke knew that his appearance was the beginning of the end. Still, she couldn't lie; she was happy to see him. It was just that he'd only come here because Cass had let him know about a possible case: four victims, exploded to death. When Castiel called her at work to let her know that Dean wouldn't leave him alone to finish his shift, she hauled ass over to the Gas-n-Sip and slammed through the doors. No one was gonna bother her husband while he was trying to do his job, especially not right after he'd just been promoted and was so proud of himself, for, perhaps, the first time in his multi-million-year-life. It was such a small, human thing for him to be proud of, but he seemed to have embraced his humanity and he loved his work. And that was all Brooke cared about.

She had never wanted to cause a scene at his place of work, so when she walked through the doors, her only mission was to get Dean the fuck out of Castiel's way. And when she saw the Winchester, the first thing she heard him say to her husband was, "This is not you, man. You're above this. Come on!"

"Hey!" Brooke said, wanting to yell, but, at the same time, not wanting to get her husband fired. She sidled up to the two of them and pointed a finger at Dean. "What the hell did I tell you about making fun of my husband about his work?" she hissed. "He's making an honest living, which is something you've never done."

Dean seemed shocked at her sudden appearance, and the way she was speaking to him. "You've never made an honest living, either," he argued.

"I tried to, before I got sucked back into the Hunter bullshit." Brooke crossed her arms over her chest. "My point is, Ca—Steve is better than both of us at living a normal life. Why not let him have it?" She glanced around, self-consciously, praying to God that Cass' manager wasn't standing behind her, wondering what all the ruckus was about.

Castiel laid a hand on her arm. "I'll handle Dean," he told her.

She stared at him. "Then why did you call me here?"

"That wasn't about Dean. I needed to ask you something—

"Hey," the Winchester interrupted, like a child being ignored by his parents.

Brooke and Castiel both turned and looked at him in annoyance. He stared back at them, though he did look a little awkward.

Castiel sighed, focusing on Dean for the moment. "I failed at being an angel," he said.

"You didn't," Brooke replied, automatically.

He turned toward her, for a moment, placing a hand on her cheek, then turned back to Dean. "Everything I ever attempted came out wrong. But here, at least I have a shot at getting things right."

Dean's brows drew together as he listened to his best friend, his face a mask of confusion.

"I guess you can't see it," Castiel said, seeing the look on Dean's face. "But there's a real dignity in what I do—a human dignity."

A woman's voice sounded behind the three of them. "Hate to interrupt you guys, but, Steve?"

Brooke turned around to see a middle-aged blonde woman smiling at them.

"Customer had an accident in the men's room," the woman continued.

Castiel nodded, smiling. "I'm on it."

The woman, still smiling, turned to Brooke. "Are you… Ruth? Steve's wife?"

Brooke glanced at Castiel for a moment, wondering at the name he had given her—she thought they had agreed to use names neither of them had previous used—and nodded at the blonde woman. "You must be Nora?" she asked.

"Yes," Nora replied. "I'd shake your hand, but…" She gave a rueful smile and glanced down at herself. She was holding a mop inside one of those wheeled mop buckets. "Steve, did you ask her yet?"

"I will in a moment," Castiel piped up.

Nora nodded and walked away.

Dean looked like he was about to say something, but his cellphone rang. He walked away to answer it.

Brooke turned to Castiel, glanced around the store, saw that no one was watching, and snuck in a kiss.

He made a sound of surprise in his throat, and pulled away after only a second or two, also looking around, as if he were a teenager trying not to get caught making out with some girl. "I appreciate your level of affection for me," he said, "but I'm still working. It's not appropriate."

Brooke smiled at him, tugging at the blue vest he had to wear for work. Not as hot as the blue tie, but definitely more adorable. "Don't pretend you didn't like it," she teased.

He looked at her with a smile in the corner of his mouth. "I never said that." He began to pull out containers of peanuts to restock the shelves.

"What did Nora want you to ask me?" Brooke wondered.

"She, um…" He paused, putting down the container he was holding, and stared down into the box. "She wants to know if… if I—if we—can babysit for her, tonight. At seven o'clock."

Brooke stared at her husband, her mouth opening a little in shock. She blinked. "Your boss thinks you'd be able to hand babysitting?"

"Nora said she'd only be gone for a few hours, and that the child would probably sleep most of the time." Castiel was looking distinctly embarrassed.

Brooke raised an eyebrow at him. "So, how did I get involved."

"I… told her I'd have to consult with you, first, obviously. And then she said that you were welcome to help me babysit."

"Oh, well, that's good," said Brooke, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'd probably kill it, somehow, on accident. I gotta be there to make sure you don't hold it by its feet, upside-down."

Castiel said nothing at this comment, but began to silently pick up the containers of peanuts and pull them out of the box again. His face had fallen.

Brooke closed her eyes for a moment, silently cursing herself. She took both of Castiel's hands in her own to stop his movements. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "I yelled at Dean for belittling you about your work, and here I am, belittling you. You know I think you could do anything you wanted to."

Fear of being overseen forgotten, Castiel laid his forehead against hers, and breathed. "I know. It's all right."

She pulled back. "Do you want to babysit this kid?" she asked.

"I am a little nervous about it," he admitted. "But… I thought if we did it together, it would be all right. It is only for a few hours, and I'd like to think I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to human child-care. I would never hold a baby upside-down by its feet."

Brooke laughed. "I know. I'm sorry I said that." She sighed. "Okay. Babysitting it is, then."

Castiel's face lit up like the sun.

And, right there, Brooke was glad she'd agreed, even just to see a smile like that.

"Hey." Dean's voice cut through whatever mushy thoughts Brooke was having. "There was another kill, over at the high school. You two comin'?"

"I wouldn't be much use," Cass replied. "I don't have my powers."

"So? I've never had any powers."

Castiel's face, so bright just a moment ago, had set itself into chiseled lines. "You are a Hunter."

"And you're a Hunter in training, remember?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I remember. You said I sucked."

Dean made a face. "I didn't say that. I said that there was, uh, you know, room for improvement." He glanced at Brooke, who was giving him a frosty stare. "Come on—both o' ya."

Castiel sighed, and looked at her. Brooke looked back at him, with eyebrows raised in a silent question. He shrugged. She rolled her eyes, slowly facing Dean again. "We gotta be back in the area before seven," she warned him.

Dean smiled brightly. "I'll go get the car." He turned to leave.

"Not just yet," Castiel called.

Dean stopped and turned back, questioningly.

Cass stared at Dean like he was an idiot, and shook his head. "I have to clean the bathroom," he said, his voice raising on the last word. He shook his head some more, and turned away, his shoulders squared.

Brooke watched him go, biting her lower lip. "God, you're hot when you're annoyed," she muttered.

Castiel stopped, abruptly, and turned to look at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch. He gave her a once-over, then turned back around and marched into the bathroom like he was off to go to war. And for that one moment, he was the old Castiel. His old personality seemed to slip through the cracks most often when did or said anything sexual to him, and it was hot as fuck every time it happened.

Mmph, Brooke thought to herself. Fuck me later, please.

And when he came out of the store ten minutes later, she stood beside the Impala with Dean. She could feel his eyes on her from thirty feet away. He made a beeline straight toward her. As he approached, she asked, "You washed your hands, right?"

"Of course I did," he growled, and took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

"Guys, come on," Dean complained, stepping away from them like they carried some kind of contagious disease. "Could you at least do that away from my car?"

###

Brooke drove her car to the crime scene, following the Impala, and Cass rode with Dean, which gave them a chance to catch up. They were not at the crime scene long before Castiel seemed to freeze up. The victim really had exploded, into a pink spray that was splattered all over the bus she'd been standing next to at the time. And the second that Cass saw it, he went rigid.

Brooke was alarmed at this. She had never seen him hesitate like this in the face of gore. He was a soldier—or he had been. And even just counting his years on Earth, he'd seen plenty of gross things down here. Brooke laid a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

"I know what this is," he said, and turned away, stiffly, walking over to the Impala and leaning over it, heavily.

Concerned, Brooke slowly rubbed his back, half-afraid he was about to vomit. She didn't push him. He seemed so upset that it would be cruel to force him to speak. She just stood beside him, running her hand up and down, up and down.

Eventually, Dean came over, saw the state that his best friend was in, and wanted to know what was wrong.

Castiel took a deep breath. "I've seen this before," he said.

"What? Where?"

"In Heaven." He was still breathing heavily, and he really did look like he might throw up.

Brooke squeezed one of his hands.

"What—you're saying an angel did this?" Dean asked.

"It's no ordinary angel," Cass said. He shook his head, sucking air in through his teeth. "Dean, this is bad. This is very bad."

"Okay, okay, hey," Brooke interrupted, no longer able to stand idly by while her husband seemed to be on the verge of some kind of mental collapse. She pulled him to her, reaching up to stroke his hair as she held him. "Just… just calm down for a second. Breathe."

Castiel allowed himself to be held for a few seconds, then he pulled back just a little, and placed his forehead against hers. He took five deep breaths, as she had taught him so long ago, as they had done together many times. At the end of them, he wasn't entirely better, but he seemed less… well, less like he was about to throw up. That was something.

A few minutes later, the three of them sat in the Impala, to speak in private. Castiel had crawled in beside Brooke, in the back seat. His clinginess in that moment reminded her of the time after he had woken up out of his coma, years ago, and been completely mentally fractured. He had clung to her and to Meg, letting them in close, but any little thing that remotely reminded him of violence had overwhelmed him so much that he would simply teleport away. Now, without his powers, he could not fly away from his fears, as he had once been able to. Instead, he clung all the more to Brooke, refusing to sit up front in the Impala with Dean.

As he held Brooke's hand, he explained to the Winchester what he knew about the angel that had been killing these people. "On the battlefields of Heaven, there was a special class of angel, the Rit Zien. It's Enochian for Hands of Mercy. They functioned like medics—they tended to the wounded, they healed those who could be healed… But, for the mortally wounded, those who were past saving, the Rit Zien's job was to put them down."

"But the granulated bodies?" Dean asked, his body twisted around in the front seat to look at the two of them.

"This was their special ability," Castiel said. "They had this way of smiting that was so quick and so total that it rendered death virtually painless."

Brooke was happy that Cass' voice and mannerisms seemed steadier, now. He still held her hand, but gripped it less tightly.

"But these aren't wounded angels that they're vaporizing," Dean said, confused. "They're people."

Castiel looked away, shaking his head. "Right. I don't know. The Rit Zien home in on pain; it's like a beacon to them. So, when this angel fell to Earth, he heard the victims' cries, their anguish, same as he'd head an angel's in Heaven. He's continuing his Heavenly work down here, one suffering human at a time."

"Yeah, but this last victim wasn't suffering. She was just a normal, moody kid."

Brooke, who had been silent up until this point, spoke. "That doesn't matter," she said, thinking of Castiel. "Angels are created to fulfill certain purposes."

Dean stared at her like she had suddenly teleported into his car out of nowhere. "You know about this?"

She rolled her eyes at him, motioning to Castiel. "I married an angel, Dean. Yes, I know about this."

Dean made a face, but conceded. "So, you were saying?"

Brooke squeezed her husband's hand. "Angels are created to do specific jobs. There's a hierarchy. They're made to follow orders. They know only their job—their directive—whatever it is. This angel, who just fell to Earth… He may be stuck here, but he still only knows what he knows. And what he knows is that he was created to help those who are in pain." She shook her head. "But what is human pain to an angel who's been in Heaven for thousands of years? How does he know the difference between a paper cut and a bullet wound? The difference between someone who is truly suicidal and someone who's just a little sad?"

Castiel was looking at Brooke with an unreadable expression on his face. "She's right, Dean," he murmured, still watching his wife. "The ebb and flow of human emotion… I've been on Earth for a few years and I've only begun to grasp it. To him, pain is pain."

"So, everybody's fair game?" Dean asked, sounding annoyed.

Castiel finally broke eye contact with Brooke, and nodded at the Winchester.

Dean scoffed and turned around in his seat, facing the front again. "All right, well, we gotta stop him."

"No," said Brooke. "You have to stop him." She became, suddenly, very protective of Castiel, and this new life that they had created for themselves. "Don't drag Cass back into this shit."

Dean turned in the seat again and glared at her. "Why don't you—

"She's right," Cass said. "It's… Things are different now. Everything feels different. And I'm… I'm scared. To go back out there. To go after this angel."

Brooke touched his face, gently.

Dean stared at the two of them for a moment, and then sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll track down this, uh, Kevorkian wannabe, and I'll put him down."

Castiel stared at Dean, then turned away. "Okay," he said.

"You two stay safe," Dean said. "And, uh… go babysit, I guess." He shook his head. "I can't believe you two are babysitting."

Brooke laughed. "That's what I said."

Dean sighed. "Go live a normal life."

"Okay," said Castiel, again, though he looked a little sad as he said it.

After a minute of goodbyes, he and Brooke got out of the back of the Impala and watched Dean drive away. Then they turned and went to their own car, to head to Nora's house, to babysit.