Nine

Late afternoon light hit Brooke in the face as she drove down a back road somewhere to her latest case. She squinted against the sunlight, annoyed that the visor wasn't doing its job.

Castiel appeared suddenly in the passenger seat.

Brooke sucked in a breath, barely managing not to jerk the wheel of the car or slam on the breaks. She imagined that only her mental connection to the angel had kept her from freaking out.

"Hello, Brooke," he said. It was his usual greeting. What was unusual was the way he said it. Normally, his voice would have been cold and devoid of feeling, but this time he greeted her almost warmly.

"Do you often appear randomly in people's cars while they're driving?" she asked, by way of response. "You could have killed me!"

"No," he said immediately. "If you had crashed, I would have saved you." His voice had gone from warm to deadly serious in the space of a heartbeat.

"All right, calm down," she said, reaching out with her mind to soothe him. "It was a bad joke."

"Bad," he echoed. "Yes."

They hadn't seen each other since the night they had kissed, and although given permission to go to Sam and Dean—not that she had needed Castiel's permission—Brooke had remained on her own. The truth was, she didn't know the boys very well and was afraid she'd get in the way if she just showed up unannounced. And she hadn't gotten either of their numbers before she'd left, so there was no way to really contact them, anyways.

"Speaking of Sam and Dean," Castiel began—Brooke smiled in amusement that Castiel had been casually reading her thoughts like that—I need you to come with me to see them.

"You need me to?" she repeated, surprised.

"Well. No," he said.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then, feeling that she was missing something, pulled over to the side of the road.

"I was… wondering if you… wanted to come with me." He said the words slowly, as if they were difficult to get out.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"It will probably be dangerous. Even though Uriel is no longer a threat, Sam and Dean seem to attract trouble wherever they go."

"Castiel," she teased, grinning at him, "are you asking me out on a date?"

He stared at her, head tilted to the side like a puppy. "Hardly," he said. "I'm serious. It could be dangerous."

"I'm in, let's go." She put a hand on his shoulder, breathing sharply through her nose as the barrier broke completely. It had not been up entirely, she realized, since he'd been able to read her thoughts just now. She must be getting used to being around him, with or without a barrier in place.

Castiel looked at her for a moment, studying her face, then she felt a tug at her body and they were standing in a house.

Before she even had time to take in her surroundings, she heard Castiel command, sharply, "Dean, let him go!"

Dean held a small, scruffy-looking man up against the wall. He turned on his heel in surprise at Castiel's voice, and then stared at her for a second in even more surprise before turning back to the angel.

"This man is to be protected," Castiel said, his voice low in warning.

"Why?" Dean demanded.

"He's a prophet of the Lord."

Brooke stared at Castiel; this was news to her.

The scruffy little man stared at Castiel, and Brooke knew the look in his eyes. It was the look she was sure she had had upon her first meeting with the angel. "You…" he began, his voice breathy with wonder. "You're… Castiel… aren't you?"

Castiel's gaze flicked from Dean to him. "It's an honor to meet you, Chuck."

Chuck tore his gaze away from Castiel long enough to see Brooke standing beside him. "And you must be… Brooke."

Brooke gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Hi," she said, shortly.

The men continued to speak around her, and she simply stood and listened, having nothing to add. After a few tense minutes of incredulousness on the part of Dean and Chuck, the feeble little man made his way quickly upstairs.

Brooke watched him go. "He seem a little jumpy to you?" she asked the men.

Dean raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged. "He's seemed jumpy all day." He turned to Cass. "Him. Really?" he asked, continuing their earlier conversation.

"You should've seen Luke," Castiel replied.

They spent another few minutes arguing about prophecy, and then Dean disappeared out the door to go after Sam.

Castiel put a hand on Brooke's shoulder, and she could tell he was about to whoosh them away somewhere. "Wait," she said.

He waited.

"I want to ask Chuck something."

"What?" Castiel asked.

"I want to ask him about me. About… us." She glanced at Cass out of the corner of her eye.

Castiel squinted at her. "I don't—

She turned to face him. "You can't tell me you're not curious," she said. "I mean, you really can't. Your hand is on my shoulder. I can hear your thoughts. I can feel your curiosity."

Castiel looked at her and sighed, nodding once in assent. He released her shoulder and stood, waiting. Brooke stood beside him with her arms crossed. They stood for ten minutes before Chuck came creeping back down the stairs.

"You're still here," he said, peeking at them as if he were a mouse.

She squinted at him. "And that… surprises you… prophet?"

Chuck sighed in resignation. "No," he said, spitting out the word like a sulky teenager. "I know why you stayed. You want to know why Castiel saved you, why you can see him, why you're… connected." Chuck was still only halfway down the stairs, as if he thought the banister would protect him from them.

"We don't bite, you know," Brooke said.

"I'll stay here," Chuck replied, glancing between her and Castiel.

"What, did you have a vision that we attack you, or something?" she asked.

"No. I just like it better up here."

Brooke gave up. "Okay, whatever. Look, just… I just want to know what… what my purpose is. Why…" She gave up even trying to ask, knowing that he probably already knew everything she was going to ask, anyways.

Castiel was still as a statue beside her, but she could feel his curiosity leaking from him.

"I haven't seen much about you," Chuck admitted. "All I really know is that you're… you're a witness."

Brooke stared at him. "A witness to what?"

"The Apocalypse?" he said, his voice coming out as a sort of squeak. But he didn't sound very sure of himself.

Brooke nodded slowly. "And what about my connection to him?" she asked, tilting her head in Castiel's direction.

"He is…" Chuck glanced at the angel. "He's the reason you're a witness, I guess. The… catalyst for your part in the plot."

"That's it?" she demanded. "That—that doesn't explain why I can see angels, or demons, or… or any of it."

"I-I haven't seen that far ahead," Chuck whimpered. "I'm sorry. I just know that you are meant to witness and he is meant to protect you."

Brooke's eyes flashed up to meet Chuck's. "Protect me from what?"

Chuck threw his arms in the air, clearly exasperated. "I don't know yet. Something will happen, but I don't know what, and I don't know when. Just… I'm sorry." He glanced between the two of them for a moment, his face the picture of sheer terror, and then fled back upstairs.

Brooke stood there, watching the place where he'd been standing, for at least a minute after he had gone. Her mind was spinning.

"Brooke," Castiel said, finally. "We should go now."

She nodded absent-mindedly and allowed herself to be teleported away.

###

Brooke had checked herself into a motel room for the night, somewhere in the same town that Sam and Dean were, but far enough away so as not to somehow run into them. Dean seemed either annoyed at her presence or utterly indifferent, so she intended to stay away from him. Castiel sat in the room with her for a time, though neither of them spoke, much.

She could tell that he, too, was thinking about what Chuck had said about them. He was sitting in a chair across from her bed, his hands folded over each other. He rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin on the knuckles of one hand. There was a clock on the wall; its ticking grew louder and louder.

"So we're part of some prophecy now?" Brooke asked, finally, breaking the silence.

Castiel didn't move, but his blue eyes flicked up to meet hers. He stared at her silently.

"Well," she said, "it doesn't change anything. We still share a connection, and I don't really care why." She sat up straighter on the bed, stretching her arms above her head. "I guess this means you were right to bring me here, though. If I'm supposed to witness the Apocalypse, then being around Sam and Dean feels like the right call."

Castiel muttered, "He didn't sound sure when he said it. That you were meant to witness the Apocalypse." He turned his gaze away from her, thinking.

"I noticed that too. I don't think he knows, really, what I'm supposed to witness."

"He did sound sure about the fact that I'm meant to protect you from something."

Brooke studied him, noting the worry that was wafting from his mind like cold air. "If it's a prophecy, then… you won't fail, right? It happens as it's written."

"That's correct."

"Then stop worrying."

Castiel shook his head and looked at her again. "I believe I can protect you," he said. "I just wish I knew what I was protecting you from."

"I'm sure you'll know it when it happens."

He got up from the chair and went to her, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek. A rush of thoughts sounded in her head, alien as ever. It all sounded like chanting, the way multiple thoughts strung together in this never-ending, deep-throated language. The words all started with a consonant and ended in a vowel, but that was about all she could pick up from them. So many words overlapped that it came out as a jumbled mess.

Castiel's finger pulled away from her cheek and pushed into the side of his head, as if he were suddenly attacked with a headache. He inhaled sharply and went stiff, his eyes glowing blue-white. After a few seconds, he reached out and gripped her shoulder tightly—

###

She was standing outside, beside the motel. No, not her motel. A motel.

"Prayer is a sign of faith," Castiel said, and Brooke looked up at him, assuming that he was speaking to her.

She heard footsteps and looked for their source to find Dean standing beside a vending machine.

"This is a good thing, Dean," Castiel continued, moving closer to him.

Dean's gaze flicked toward Brooke. He glared at her. "Could you give us a minute?" he demanded.

She felt Castiel's flare of anger at Dean's tone towards her, but placed a hand on his shoulder. He calmed. She looked at Dean, put both hands up in front of her, palms out, as a sign of surrender, and walked away. She kept walking until the corner of the building came up, then she stepped behind it and leaned against the wall. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought.

She did not hear what they spoke about, and wasn't trying to listen, either. She figured Castiel probably should have left her in her own motel room, and had only brought her with him because he'd been on automatic, trying to reach Dean as quickly as possible without thinking that Dean probably wanted privacy.

She waited a minute, two. Maybe three. The air rushed around her and Castiel stood before her.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, and held out his hand. "I think so."

She gripped it, closed her eyes, felt a tug on her body, and blinked open her eyes to find them both back in her motel room. She felt dizzy. Castiel gripped both of her shoulders to steady her.

"I don't think humans are meant to travel like that," she said, and laughed.

"No," he agreed.

She opened her eyes after a moment, feeling less dizzy. Castiel kept both hands on her shoulders. "You should have left me here," she told him. "Dean doesn't like me much."

"It doesn't matter," Castiel replied. "You are part of a prophecy. You are meant to witness. So you will witness."

She shook her head. "But we don't know what I'm supposed to be witnessing."

"Exactly," he said. "And until we figure that out, you will witness as much as you can."

Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Oh, Dean'll love that."

"He'd better," Cass growled.

She smiled, shaking her head slowly. "All things considered, we don't know each other that well, yet you are… fiercely protective of me. It's a little creepy sometimes."

"I'm supposed to be protective of you."

"Well, yes, but you were like this even before we knew that."

"Prophecy happens as it is written. Even if I didn't know I was meant to protect you, I still did it, because it was supposed to happen that way."

She stared at him. "There's got to be more to it than that."

"There is, and you know exactly what."

He was right; she did know. She knew that, despite their handful of meetings at most, that they couldn't simply ignore each other. Every time he was near her, she ended up spending more time in his head than her own—feeling his emotions. And she knew that that connection went both ways. She supposed that, after experiencing a connection as close as theirs, whether they wanted it or not, that it was no easy task to ignore each other. To walk away from each other. She still didn't think she loved him, even despite the kiss, despite the closeness that they shared. Well—she did love him, but in a way that was nearly unexplainable. He felt less like a lover in the traditional sense, and more like… a missing limb, a missing half. A part of her.

She led him to the bed and sat down with him. "Explain to me what roles Sam and Dean play, exactly, in stopping the Apocalypse," she said.

"I don't know everything."

"Tell me what you do know. If I'm meant to witness, then I need to know."

He told her all he knew.