A/N: This is the penultimate chapter to Kept! Look out for the third book in this series, "Held," soon. After uploading chapter twenty-five tomorrow, I will immediately afterwards upload the first chapter of "Held," so head to my Author page and keep an eye out for it!

Twenty-four

The joy of those two weeks did not last forever. Castiel began to worry the longer he went without hearing word from his old garrison, the ones who were meant to be watching over Kevin Tran. The worry started slowly. After about three days into their "honeymoon," Castiel said, "I haven't heard from the garrison," and a part of his mind fractured with the worry.

Brooke laid a hand on his arm to steady him, and his wandering eyes found her face, and settled there. He calmed, but kept that thought in the back of his mind.

A week into their honeymoon, he said, again, "I haven't heard from the garrison."

And this time, Brooke also worried. "Maybe we should—

"I can't," he interrupted her, and, again, his eyes wandered, flicking here and there and everywhere, and his mind splintered.

Brooke sighed. "All right," she said, quietly.

Finally, though, when two weeks were almost up, Castiel's vague worry turned to genuine concern, and fear. "I—I still haven't heard from the garrison," he said, and his voice was higher than usual, for this time he knew he could not simply ignore the deafening silence. He would have to go to the house of Kevin Tran, and look.

When they arrived, there were two bodies on the floor in the kitchen. Angels.

Castiel's mind shattered at the sight of them, and he wandered about the house, looking for Kevin, whom he knew was not there. Slowly, he grew more and more panicked. Now that he had confirmed what he had already known, he knew he would have to do something about it. Finally, he returned to the kitchen, where Brooke was standing and waiting for him. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, refusing to meet her eyes. "I don't want to fight," he said.

"You don't have to fight," she began—

But he repeated, louder, "I don't want to fight! I can't fight." He began to breathe erratically, looking very human, very vulnerable. "The last time I fought, I… I destroyed… so many…" He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Brooke went right up to him and grabbed his face in both of her hands, digging her fingers in when he tried to pull away. "Emmanuel," she said.

He shook his head. "It doesn't work," he said, his voice frantic. "I know what I am now. That name…"

"Emmanuel," she repeated, ignoring the frenzy in his mind. "Stop. Just stop."

He continued shaking his head, as memories flared to life in his mind, memories of awful destruction. Hundreds of angels dead all around him. The blood of humans on his hands.

Brooke took a deep breath and said, very loudly, "I am your wife, and you will listen to me!"

Castiel flinched at the sound of her voice, but his mind stilled, finally. He stared at her, his blue eyes very wide.

"No one is saying you have to fight anything," Brooke said, quickly, afraid that his mind would start up again if she didn't speak her piece. "Why don't we tell Sam and Dean that Kevin is missing, and they can take care of it."

"Sam and Dean," he repeated, and his voice had gone high again. "No. No, they won't understand. They'll want me to go with them. To look for Kevin."

"They can't make you go anywhere," Brooke argued. "If they try, you can just teleport away."

But Castiel was still shaking his head. He pressed his hands over top of hers, on his face. "No," he repeated. "Not Sam and Dean."

Brooke was losing her patience. "But we have to tell someone that Kevin is missing."

"Meg," said Castiel, quickly. "We can tell Meg."

"What?"

Suddenly, he was smiling, but it was not a genuine smile. It was a fake one, one that spread too far on his face. "I know where she is. I—we—can tell her about Kevin, and… and she can tell Sam and Dean. That way I don't have to talk to them."

Brooke shook her head. "I don't think Meg will appreciate…" she began, but she blinked, and Castiel had already teleported them away. She sighed, heavily, knowing that there was no way to get through to the angel at this point.

###

Brooke sat in the car with Castiel when Meg went into Rufus' cabin to go talk to Sam and Dean. They had not driven here, but the second they had arrived, Castiel had gotten into the car out front and turned on the radio. He had refused to go inside.

Don McLean's American Pie came on the radio, and Brooke shook her head and chuckled at the irony of how well that song fit Castiel's current mood. He was somewhere between maniacally happy, and extremely depressed, and being in his head was fucking Brooke up, big time.

"Hey there," said Dean, breaking Brooke out of her thoughts. She gave him a silent head-nod and Castiel lifted his hand in greeting.

Dean looked like he was about to say more, and then seemed to steel himself, raising himself above the window of the car for a moment so that Brooke could only see his chest. When he lowered his face back into the window, he gave her A Look, and she gave one right back. Silently, they communicated, Dean asking her a question and Brooke responding with raised eyebrows and a shake of the head. Dean sighed and seemed to resign himself to whatever strange conversation he was about to have with his angel best friend.

"So, Cass," Dean began, trying for a smile, "What's uh… what's the word?"

"Well, Dean, I've been thinking… Monkeys are so… clever."

Brooke closed her eyes and put her face in her hands.

"And they're sensible," the angel continued, not seeming to have noticed anything, "in that they leave the skin on the bananas that they eat. Is it really necessary to test cosmetics on them? I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Dean?"

Inside her hands, Brooke tried not to burst out laughing at such a ridiculous question. She couldn't even imagine Dean with lipstick on. She peeked through her fingers at Dean, who glanced at her with a What the fuck look on his face, and it made her snort with laughter.

"Not very," Dean told Castiel. "You wanna come inside and, uh, tell us what's going on?"

Castiel glanced between Dean and Brooke for a moment, and Brooke felt him begin to fracture again.

Brooke rolled her eyes up to the ceiling of the car and thought to him, If you don't hold your shit together long enough to just tell them what's happening, I swear I will divorce you. Can you just… please?

She hated herself for thinking this way—and wondered if, maybe, being inside Meg's head for even a few seconds had somehow rubbed off on her. Still, this wasn't the first time she had lost her patience with Castiel. But now was not the best time to be treating him this way. He was like a small child, and she was afraid speaking this way to him might damage his psyche.

Even so, that threat, meaningless as it was—and he knew it—seemed to steady him enough to pull him from the car and drag his feet through the door of the cabin. Brooke followed along behind, as always, and Dean followed them both. As the angel walked through the door, he glanced, with a smile, at Meg, and said, "Now, you understand I don't participate in aggressive activity." He was speaking quickly and with high energy, something Brooke had had to get used to in those two weeks alone with him.

Castiel shuffled through the cabin, over to the table, where a large human bone was lying in a bowl. One of the ingredients for the weapon that would destroy the Leviathans. He picked up the bone and smelled it.

Brooke stared at him.

He smiled. "Mm. Sister Mary Constant. Good choice."

Dean glanced at Brooke again, then settled his eyes on the angel. "Why'd you go to Meg, Cass?"

"When I left," Castiel began, "I wanted to observe the flowers—and fruit. Flowers come first, obviously." That high, manic energy seemed to dissipate as he looked up at Dean. His shoulders slumped as he said, "But I heard nothing from them."

Brooke knew he meant he had heard nothing from the garrison, but no one else could piece that together from the way he was speaking. "He means the garrison," she spoke up. "He heard nothing from the garrison. The ones who were supposed to protect Kevin."

Everyone looked at her as she spoke, but she kept her eyes on Castiel, who was staring at her with fear written all over his face.

Keep it together, she warned.

He pulled himself inward.

"What happened to the garrison?" Sam asked.

"Well, finally, the silence was deafening," said Castiel, with a shrug. "So, I went to look… to the home of the prophet." He paused, glancing at Sam and Dean, and for once his face was reasonably serious. Calm. "You know, Leviathan can kill angels. There's a reason why Father locked them in Purgatory." He turned away from them all, saying, over his shoulder, "They're the piranha that would eat the whole aquarium." He faced the group again, sadness in his blue eyes. "They're gone. The entire garrison—dead. If there's anyone left at all, they're in hiding."

Dean held up a finger, coming towards Castiel. "Uh, I'm sorry. If the angels are dead, where's Kevin?"

Castiel, sensing that he was about to be asked to participate in something aggressive, deflected, his mind fracturing again. "I could steal them from their cages, the monkeys… But where would I put them all?"

"Hey!" Dean yelled, and clapped his hands together. "Focus! Is Kevin alive?"

"I don't want to fight!" Castiel said, his voice louder than it had been in weeks. He ducked his head down, his eyes flitting everywhere.

Dean stared at him with an unreadable expression as Brooke went over to Castiel. As annoyed as she had been in the car, it hurt her to see him like this, so close, constantly, to a complete breakdown. Even now, after weeks of being awake, horrible, awful thoughts still lurked in the back of his mind, reminding him of all the bad things he had done.

Brooke slowly, gently, pressed a hand to his cheek, trying to calm him. He almost moved away from her, almost flinched, but their bond was strong, and instead, he bent down and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in, using her presence to ground him. He began to pick up the pieces of his mind again and try to fit them all back together.

Behind Brooke, Dean said, "No, I'm not… We're worried." His voice was calmer now.

Castiel turned to face Dean again, but pulled Brooke to him at the same time, holding her against him, as if he would crumple to the ground otherwise, suddenly unable to support his own weight. She felt his hands on her back, in her hair, as if he were trying to soothe her. Really, though, the repetitive motion of rubbing her back, running his fingers through her hair, was a comfort to him. It was something familiar, the same way that turning her wedding ring around and around her finger had become familiar to her.

"They took him," Castiel said, his voice quieter now. "He's alive." He sighed, and stepped away from Brooke, smiling down at her, running a thumb along her jaw for just a moment in a loving gesture. "I felt such responsibility," he said to Dean, "but it's in your hands now. I feel much better."

"Wait," said Dean. "Hold on a freakin' minute—

But whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by Meg, who had been standing by, silently watching, for the past few minutes. "Guys," she said, "What's all that?"

Brooke turned to look at her and saw her motioning to a small bowl on a separate table. Inside the bowl were ingredients for some kind of spell, and a book of matches.

"We called Crowley," Sam said.

Meg stared at him, her eyebrows raising. "You what?"

"Don't worry, he never showed," Dean said.

Meg was still high-strung. "What you mean never—

"Do you see him anywhere?" Dean asked. "He stood us up."

"Well," said Meg, with a mirthless smile. She looked like her skin was crawling. "I'm sorry about that, but I'm outie. He could still show—

"Show up at any time," said Crowley's voice. "Hello, boys."

Brooke spun and stared at the demon.

"Sorry I'm late," said Crowley. "This is an embarrassment of riches."

Instinctively, immediately, Brooke moved herself in front of Meg. Castiel was her first priority, of course, but Meg seemed much more afraid of the demon than Castiel did, and Brooke reacted to that fear by shielding her. She knew that blocking Crowley's view of Meg wouldn't actually do much, but it was the only think she could think of.

Crowley laid eyes on Brooke, then glanced over her shoulder at Meg, who was all bristles and nerves behind her. "Stay, won't you? There's really nowhere to run."

Meg took off, heading for the door. Brooke followed her, but Crowley appeared suddenly in front of the door.

"Don't even think of smoking out, pussycat," he warned. "I've got eyes all over the place."

Castiel came down the stairs, towards the two demons and Brooke. His voice was harder and angrier than Brooke had heard in a long time. "Leave her be," he growled, and Brooke knew, feeling it between them, that Castiel was talking about them both. Her, and Meg.

Crowley glanced up from Meg and looked at the angel. "Castiel," he said, moving toward him. "When last we spoke, you—well—enslaved me. I'm confused. Why aren't you dead?"

Castiel side-eyed him. "I… don't know."

"Well, do you want to be?" Crowley asked, his voice growing louder and angrier. "'Cos I can help with that."

"All right, enough," Dean broke in.

"It's enough when I say," Crowley replied. "I came here to help you. I find out you've been lying to me, harboring an angel, and not just any angel—the one angel I most want to crush between my teeth."

"Oh, so you can crush angels now, huh?" Meg asked, still standing by the door with Brooke.

They all went back and forth for a time, the tension growing in the room the longer Crowley was there. It didn't take long for the demon discover that Castiel was insane, since the angel offered him a ziplock bag full of honey as a peace offering a few minutes in. Crowley, in the end, didn't harm any of them, and gave them a vial of what he claimed was his own blood—the last ingredient they needed in the fight against Dick Roman. Still, there was a threat in his words, a promise to return for Meg, and for Castiel, to kill them both one day. Just not that day. And right before he left, he glanced at Brooke, holding her gaze for just a moment, and in his eyes was the same silent promise to come back… and kill her.

Brooke glared back at him, unafraid. and felt the Grace in her body roil to the surface in response to that silent threat.

Crowley smirked, threw his vial of blood at Sam, and vanished.