Twenty-three

The sex did not solidify any one decision, but it helped to calm Brooke down enough that they were able to have a normal conversation, like adults, in the morning. Castiel began by saying that he was still willing to give it all up and try to live a normal human life with her, forever. Until they died of old age.

And it was his willingness to drop everything to do as she wanted that made Brooke realize that she could not ask him to do it. It would be too easy for her to take advantage of his giving nature. In the bedroom, he dominated her, but only because it was what she wanted. In reality, even without his Grace, he was still an angel, created to do as he was told. It would be stupidly easy to look him in the eye and tell him that she refused to be a Hunter any longer, that she refused to deal with the angel crisis, and that if he did not back down from this, she would leave.

It would be easy, and it would be terribly cruel. And she could not do that to him. Not after seven years. Not after everything they had gone through.

"Fine," she said, at the end of a long conversation. "We will… try to help your brethren if we can." And then she took his face in her hands and hissed, "But any of them who even look at you wrong… will be stabbed. If they do not fear me now, they will learn."

And he pressed his forehead to hers and breathed her in, and said, "I would expect nothing less from you."

###

When news of the horrendous murders of an entire biker gang at a bar went around, Brooke and Castiel prepared to investigate. They gathered up the paperwork and the FBI badges, and the clothes. And when Brooke saw Castiel standing beside the bed, in a suit and tie, fiddling with his cufflinks, she inhaled slowly, and seemed to stand up a little straighter. "You should wear the suit and tie without the trench coat more often," she murmured, eyeing him. "You look fuckin' hot." They'd had to go and get a new suit for him to wear, for his old clothes were still pink-tinged with blood, and the new suit fit him much better. He looked like a man on a mission.

Castiel slowly turned to her, looking for all the world like he could be the new James Bond, and slowly arched one eyebrow.

"Don't make me go over there and fuck up your suit," she breathed, taking the sight of him in.

Castiel took two long strides toward her and kissed her, hard.

###

Brooke smiled in amusement at the way Sam and Dean were staring at her and Castiel from across the room. The brothers picked their way across the floor toward them, avoiding stepping in any evidence.

"Ah," said Castiel, noticing the Winchesters for the first time and patting the police officer he'd been talking to on the back. "Our colleagues."

Dean looked annoyed at him and Brooke, but Sam was doing that thing where he was trying desperately—and failing—not to smile.

Sam smacked Castiel, playfully, on the arm, and said, in a low voice, "Agents." He glanced up at Brooke, with a smirk.

"Agents," Brooke and Cass replied, at the same time.

"Guys," Dean cut in. "What the hell are you doing?"

Castiel leaned in close to Dean. "Brooke and I still have our badges."

"Yeah," said Dean, glancing at Brooke, then brought his eyes back to Castiel. "Uh… what the hell are you doing?" he repeated.

Castiel stared at Dean in confusion. "The murders were all over the news. I thought I might be of help."

"Yes," said Brooke, touching her husband, lightly, on the arm and smiling at him as if he were the only ray of light in a dark room. "And you are helping." She turned and glared at Dean frostily.

Dean blinked.

Sam spoke up, hesitantly. "Yeah, but, Cass… You know this is an angel situation, right? I mean, you left the bunker that night because angels were on your ass."

"Yeah, and you were livin' the life," Dean cut in. "You know, early retirement, workin' your way up the Gas-n-Sip ladder."

Castiel shook his head at Dean, slowly. "If angels are slaughtering one another," he said, "I have to do what I can to help." Dean looked like he wanted to argue, but Cass kept going before he could say anything. "This is a risk we should be willing to take, don't you think?" He raised both eyebrows at his friend, his blue eyes suddenly becoming enormous.

Brooke tried not to laugh at her husband's very earnest expression.

"Hey," he said, suddenly, wiggling his eyebrows and smiling. "Cass is back in town."

Brooke started to laugh, then she couldn't stop laughing, but there were still a bunch of police officers roaming around. She tried to cut herself off, but Dean was giving Castiel a look like he'd just shit a rainbow out of his ass, and it set her off again.

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "Did you just—did he just say that?" He glanced at Sam, who was also laughing.

Brooke pressed her face against Castiel's shoulder, trying to reel herself in.

"Brooke, please," Castiel said, with a sigh. "This is serious."

"No, you're right," Brooke said, gulping in hair. "This is—this is…" After another moment, she calmed down enough to stand up straight.

Castiel handed Sam a file of crime scene photos, saying, "These angels were butchered. Much more violence than was required."

"Definitely took more than one or two people to pull this off," Sam muttered, staring around at the blood all over the floor, and the general state of disarray.

"Hit squad?" Dean wondered, aloud. "Bartholomew's people?"

Sam didn't look convinced. "Well, Bartholomew has a faction we know about, but this could be somebody else entirely. Someone we don't know."

Castiel smiled, and patted Sam and Dean encouragingly on their shoulders. "Well, whoever it is," he said, "we'll find them."

###

Later, sitting at a table at a different bar, Brooke tried not to feel like a fourth wheel as they all sat with their beers. Castiel was so excited to be with Sam and Dean again, and she was happy for him, but when it was the four of them, she ended up being the only woman. Having grown up as a Hunter, surrounded by mostly male Hunters, she was used to being treated as one of the guys, but still… Half of her felt the need to get up and remove herself from the table—to give the three of them some alone time—and half of her wanted to sit right there and make her presence known.

"It is so good being together again," Castiel said, like a kid at Christmas, and tilted his head back to take a swig of his beer. "You know, this is my first beer as a human."

Dean stared across the small table, at Brooke, accusingly. "You didn't take him out and get him plastered day one?" he asked.

She smiled in amusement, but said, "No. I figured if he was gonna live as a human, he shouldn't immediately destroy his liver."

"I hope it's okay," Castiel jumped in, looking between the boys. "Brooke and I joining you."

Sam smiled at him. "Why wouldn't it be okay?"

And that was when Brooke realized she had never explained to Castiel about the fact that Sam was possessed by Ezekiel.

Oh, fuck, she thought.

There had been so many other things to worry about—where to sleep, getting Cass new clothes, worrying over his wounds—that everything had sort of fallen by the wayside. She didn't know why he had never brought it up to her, but now she felt awful. She glanced, awkwardly, at Dean, trying to convey with her eyes that she was sorry, but, of course he had no idea why she would be looking at him like that. And it's not like she could explain it to Cass now, not with Sam sitting right there. She hadn't even thought about why Dean seemed bothered that Cass was there at all. Now she realized that he was worried Ezekiel was suddenly going to vacate Sam's body and leave him a drooling mess on the floor.

Fuck, she thought again.

Dean seemed to be getting some kind of signal from Brooke's gaze because he quickly changed the subject. "You know, guys," he said, looking between Castiel and her. "Are you sure you're ready to jump back into all this? I mean, it seemed to me like you'd actually found some peace."

"Hey," Castiel replied, with a smile. "You once told me that you don't choose what you do. It chooses you."

Dean smiled, awkwardly, as if trying to remember when he had ever told his friend that.

"I'm a part of this," Cass continued. "Like it or not." He tapped his beer against Dean's and took another swig. Then he turned to Brooke and corrected himself, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We're a part of this."

"Oh, good," she joked. "You didn't forget about your wife." And then she sat back, watching the three boys joke around with each other for a few more minutes.

But when Cass, slightly drunk after only one beer, went off to get more, things turned South.

She felt the presence of Ezekiel come to the forefront in Sam's body, saw his eyes glow, and there he was. "Well?" Ezekiel demanded, "what are you two going to do about this?"

Dean turned and stared at Brooke. "Yeah, Brooke," he said. "I thought you were gonna explain to Cass why he needed to stay away."

Brooke put her face in her hands. "Guys, I'm so sorry," she muttered. "I literally forgot. I had a… an adult child to take care of." She glanced back at the bar to see her husband drunkenly leaning against it, smiling at the bartender lopsidedly.

"He is a beacon," Ezekiel snapped at her. "As are you, pulling every angel for miles down on our heads."

"All right, you know what, Zeke?" Dean said, seeming to jump to her rescue all of a sudden. "Level with me. What is it that you're so afraid of?"

Ezekiel swallowed, and Brooke watched as Sam's throat bobbed up and down, and she noted, internally, how weird it was to watch someone she knew being possessed by an angel.

"I told you," he said. "When I chose to answer your prayers and heal Sam, I chose sides. That means I'm not in good standing with certain angels."

"Okay, well, you know what? Cass isn't in good standing with any angel, all right? And neither is Brooke. But here they are, asses on the line, fightin' the fight. So, tell me, what makes you so special?"

Ezekiel, through Sam, was looking thoroughly put out, but before he could say anything, Castiel returned from the bar.

"Here we go," he said. "Three brewskis." He held the necks of two beers between the fingers of one hand, and the last in the other hand. He sat down heavily and put the bottles down, with a grin.

"I'm going to get something out of the car," Ezekiel said, woodenly, pretending to be Sam, and left.

"Brooke, I didn't get you a beer because I know you don't drink much, and you've hardly touched the one you have," said Castiel, unaffected by Sam's absence.

She turned to him, nervously, wondering if Dean was going to say anything now that Sam—and Ezekiel—were out of earshot. Before he could ruin the moment, she said to her husband, "You are very thoughtful, and I love you," and smiled at him. And she relished the way his face lit up, like the sun.

"Thank you," he said, genuinely. "I love you too."

But it soon grew awkward at the table, Dean sipping his beer a little too quietly, not meeting Cass' eyes.

Cass glanced between Brooke and Dean, and pursed his lips. Clearing his throat, he began, "I, um, noticed you look… kind of uncomfortable whenever Sam mentions my leaving."

Dean glanced away from him.

Castiel looked at Brooke, then. "You do too, actually," he said, his voice gentle, but still with a hint of admonishment. "Doesn't he know that you told me to leave?" Here, he glanced back at Dean.

Brooke took a breath. "Cass, I—

"No," said Dean, looking at Brooke. "It was never up to you to tell Cass anything. I should've…" He sighed. "Here's the deal. When Sam was doing the trials, to seal up Hell, it messed him up, okay? The third one nearly killed him."

Castiel said nothing, but it was clear that he was paying attention.

"If I'd let him finish," Dean continued, "it would have. He's still messed up, bad."

Castiel now looked confused. "You said the angel, Ezekiel, helped heal him."

Dean took a steadying breath. "Look, I gotta do whatever I can to get him back. Now, if that means we keep our distance from you for a little while, then… then I don't have a choice. I don't feel good about it, but I don't have a choice."

Brooke stared at Dean. "You're not gonna tell him the fucking truth?" she snapped.

Dean put a hand up, as if to stop her.

"Tell me what truth?" Castiel asked, now looking alarmed, his gaze shifting between his best friend and his wife.

Brooke slammed her hands down on the table. "Ezekiel possessed Sam, okay?" she said, before Dean could… she didn't know what he would have done, but it was too late, now.

"What?" Castiel said, staring at both of them.

Dean looked like he wanted to strangle Brooke from across the table. "Look, now that you know," he said, turning to Cass, "you can't say anything to Sam. And now you know why we gotta stay away from you. Ezekiel is afraid you'll draw down the angels, not just to yourself, but to him. He feels threatened, and he told me if he leaves Sam's body—which he will, if other angels start showin' up—that Sam will die. He's not healed up enough yet to survive without Zeke's help."

Castiel shook his head. "Wait a minute. Sam doesn't know that he's being possessed? How is that possible? Angels have to ask permission to possess humans."

"It—It's complicated," Dean said, looking incredibly uncomfortable "Look, just leave it alone, okay?"

"Leave it…?" Castiel stared at his best friend like Dean had just slapped him across the face. He sat back slowly in the chair. "Leave it alone," he muttered. "All right. I'll leave it alone." He stared down into his beer, but did not drink anymore.

Brooke sat silently beside him, wondering if honestly really was always the best policy, or if it might have been better to keep Castiel in the dark, at least a little longer. But, in her heart, she knew that she could never lie to her husband about something so important, mental connection or not.

Soon afterwards, Sam returned to the table, and Brooke could see by only the faint glimmer around his body that he was back to being Sam.

"It was good to see you, Sam," Castiel murmured, giving the younger Winchester a small smile. "Brooke and I should get going, now."

Sam was mildly confused as the two of them got up and left, but he made no fuss.

It was relatively late at night as the two of them made their way outside. And for the first time that day—for the first time in quite a while—Castiel's back was ramrod straight with anger. He did not walk down the sidewalk to the car; he marched.

Brooke followed along behind him, a little too intimidated to walk beside him, because she had no idea who he was angry at. Dean, probably, but also her. She wanted to speak up, to tell him that she had not meant to hide anything from him—she had simply forgotten—but her voice was lost to her.

When they got to the car, Brooke hovered near it, unsure which side to enter. Perhaps driving would calm Castiel's anger, or perhaps he would be too distracted to drive. He was standing slightly ahead of her, stiff as a board, a bit uncannily, as if he had suddenly gained his Grace back and could once again stand like a statue, without breathing, for hours.

"Cass," she whispered, fearfully, for she did not know his mind.

He spun on his heel to face her, standing tall, stared down at her with icy eyes, and said, "Did you—

And she returned his stare with wide, awe-filled eyes, for in that moment, somehow, he had reached down inside of himself and pulled out his old self—Grace or no. And she suddenly felt very small, and could hardly stand in his presence. Because she remembered what he was. And despite everything, despite the fact that he was human now, and he was her husband, she wanted desperately to throw herself at his feet.

He cut himself off, seeing the look on her face, and closed his eyes, breathing slowly.

Here is my heart. My soul. My body. Take them all, and hold them carefully, and treat me with love and respect.

The words he had murmured to her that night, when she had been sick with a cold, seemed to whisper in the chasm between them.

Castiel breathed, and pulled himself inward, and opened his eyes. He reached out and brushed his fingers gently against her cheek, his gaze soft. "Did you hide this from me?" he asked, quietly.

"No," she whispered. "I know it sounds crazy, but I forgot about Sam, in all the…" She took a breath. "In all of your sudden humanity, and everything that comes with it, I stopped thinking about Sam the moment we left the bunker. At first I thought to tell you about Ezekiel's possession of him after you stopped looking so distraught. You were so heartbroken when Dean told you that you had to leave that I did not wish to upset you further by telling you that the only thing keeping Sam together was an angel. Then, I was simply distracted. We had to get warding tattoos, we had to clean them afterwards, we had to keep moving from town to town to avoid your murderous siblings. Then you wanted to get a job, and I helped you with that."

As she spoke, her own strength returned to her. "My job is not to care about Sam Winchester. He has Dean for that. My job is to care about you… because no one else does. So, no, I did not hide anything from you. It would be easier if we were still connected, mentally. Then, you would have known, immediately. But I still find myself thinking things at you, only to realize halfway through a thought that you can't hear me."

Suddenly, she became angry. "Don't confuse me with Dean, Castiel," she warned. "I don't keep secrets from you. I don't lie to you. I don't throw you out into the cold. We may argue. I may not always agree with you. But I am here, and at least you know my mind, even if sometimes you wish you didn't."

Slowly, he pressed his forehead against hers, sighing. Neither of them spoke for a while. Minutes passed.

"Forgive me," Castiel finally murmured. "I was upset at Dean and…"

"Human emotions can be confusing, huh?" Brooke said, touching his cheek.

"You have…" He chuckled. "I was about to say you have no idea, but you do."

She inclined her head, smiling.

…

She drove them home, stopping at a McDonald's for dinner, stating that one of the greatest joys of being human was getting to eat really bad food that tasted delicious. And when a really great song came on the radio, she turned it up loud and belted it out.

Castiel was content to let her sing on her own, but she knew he knew the words. "Sing!" she yelled, over the music.

"N-No, I—

"What, you'll sing to a baby, but not to me? Sing, Castiel!"

He gave her a look, and then began to sing, very loudly, and off-key.

And she laughed, and sang with him.