Twenty-five

Castiel still refused his old trench coat back, yet he could not help but agree with Brooke that the trench coat had been a part of his identity as an angel. And now that he had his powers back, he did feel a little naked without the coat. So, they went to get a new one.

When they showed up in the bunker, both of them were wearing a trench coat. Brooke wore Castiel's old one, still too big for her; she had refused his offer to shrink it down, saying that half the fun was the way it flapped about her like a cape. She did not put her arms into the sleeves, or her hands would be trapped inside them. She didn't plan on wearing it except during down time, but she'd wanted to wear it when she walked into the bunker, just to see Dean's reaction to both of them wearing matching coats.

"Dean," Castiel said, gently, from the top of the steps.

The Winchester had been busy backing a duffel bag, and had not even noticed the two of them enter. He looked up, and immediately made a face. "Oh, don't do this to me, guys," he complained. "Don't go all matchy-matchy on me, it's gross."

Brooke laughed, glad that she had thought to wear the coat just for this encounter. Dean had not disappointed.

"We came as soon as you called," Castiel said. "We were—

He cut himself off, and began to stare around the room. Brooke noticed it too: the broken lamp on the floor, the papers strewn about, books laying in disarray everywhere, as if a tornado had come through. One chair lay on its side halfway across the room, far from any table.

"Dean…" Castiel breathed. "What happened? What's wrong?"

…

Kevin was dead. Brooke lay her forehead on her arms as Dean told the story of what had happened: The angel possessing Sam—not Ezekiel—had smote him. Brooke was not as destroyed by his death as she had been by some others, for she had barely known him, but he'd been a boy. A young man whose only ambition had been to go Princeton. He'd never wanted to be a Prophet of the Lord—who would?—and the only thing he'd gotten for his troubles was death.

"Goddamn it," Brooke muttered to herself, and slammed her fist down onto the table. She glanced up to see Dean, leaning heavily on the table, head down, eyes watering.

"God, I was so damn stupid," he said, shaking his head.

Castiel stood up, slowly. "You were stupid for the right reasons," he said, trying to reassure his best friend, the man he secretly loved.

"Yeah, like that matters," Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stared up at the ceiling.

"It does," Castiel said, walking around the table towards Dean. "Sometimes that's all that matters."

Dean continued to lean against the table and didn't seem to want to hear Cass' words.

"Listen to me," the angel said. "Sam is strong. If he knew an angel was possessing him, he could fight. He could cast the angel out."

Dean took a breath and finally stood up straight. His eyes were still red, but he seemed a little more sound than he had a few moments ago. "Maybe," he said, doubtfully. "But, as far as I know, he's in the dark. I don't know how we clue him in."

Castiel folded his arms over his chest, thinking. "Do you remember Alfie?" he asked.

"The kid angel?" Dean asked. "Yeah. Why?"

"Samandriel," Brooke corrected, automatically. "The angel's name was Samandriel. Alfie was the name of the boy." She didn't know why she felt the need to correct Dean, except that she felt both the angel and the boy deserved the respect due of the dead. She closed her eyes against the memory of Castiel shoving an angel blade into the kid's gut, against his will.

Castiel paused, seeing the memory playing in Brooke's head. "Before he died," he murmured, and then cleared his throat. "Before I—I killed him… he told me the demons were able to dig into his mind, accessing his coding. We might be able to do that here. Might be able to—to bypass the angel and talk directly to Sam."

You wanna shove drills into Sam's head? Brooke demanded, alarmed.

It might be the only way, Castiel told her, silently.

"And you think that would work?" Dean asked, before Brooke could argue against it anymore.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "But I think we should try."

"Okay," said Dean, slowly. "Um… Where do we start?"

"We need to talk to Crowley," Castiel said.

Immediately, and without warning, the Grace in Brooke's blood flared to life. She fought to control it as it seethed through her body. Castiel reached out, automatically, to help, but the Grace that touched her was the Grace of another angel, and it only made her feel like throwing up, like someone was bad-touching her, as Dean would say. "No," she growled, and put her head between her knees, and Castiel pulled away from her with the Grace that was not his own.

After another few moments, she managed to pull herself back together, reigning the Grace in, though it roiled angrily in the pit of her stomach. "You two go," she said. "If I even see him, I might…" She shook her head, closing her eyes, and tried not to think of Meg. Clearly, something there was still unresolved.

"What the hell's your problem with Crowley?" Dean demanded, staring at her like she was insane. "I mean, besides the usual. Yeah, he's a demon dick but—

"He killed Meg," Brooke and Castiel said, at the same time.

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, as if to ask why Brooke even still cared about that, but he shut his mouth. A smart move.

###

Unfortunately, Brooke did, in fact, have to deal with the demon, face to face. He had agreed to help them with Sam and whatever angel was possessing him, but only in exchange for "a breath of fresh air." He was chained, and a folded-up coat was draped over his arms to prevent anyone from seeing the chains as they got into the car that Castiel had chosen as their new ride. Their old car, the one they'd been using since he'd turned human, had served them well, but when they'd returned to the motel after being held by Malachi, they'd come to find that a window in the car had been broken and things had been stolen from them.

Brooke did not much care—how could she, when the car itself had been stolen from some innocent person all those months ago? But she did not want to be driving around in a car with a broken window, and she couldn't take it anywhere to get it fixed, lest the people there discover that she had stolen it.

Castiel had picked the new car. It was a 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V, and he had picked it, mostly, because he liked the color of it.

"It's a stupid car," Brooke had told him, but hadn't had the heart to argue with him. In general, Castiel's life wasn't very fun or good, so if he wanted to drive a stupid car, then she would let him.

"Really?" Crowley asked, staring at the car. "What are you, a pimp?"

"I like it," Castiel growled.

Brooke's nostrils flared as she attempted to withhold the urge to punch Crowley in the face.

"Riddle me this, boy wonder," Crowley said to Castiel. "Why do you need the wheels?"

Castiel looked away for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working. He was just as angry at Crowley at Brooke was, and was a hair's breadth from holding the demon's arms back so that Brooke could beat the shit out of him. Being insulted about his wingless state was not helping matters. "When you betray us," he said, turning back to the demon, "I'll be the one to carve out your heart."

Brooke smirked a little.

"Oh, Cass," said Crowley. "Such a flirt."

Brooke lunged at the demon, and was held firmly back, by a trembling angel. No, he said. There are people here.

Crowley was staring at Brooke with an unreadable expression.

Just one punch, Brooke said.

No.

Can I kick him in the nuts?

No.

The anger went out of her, and she sagged like a deflated balloon, held up by Castiel.

Dean was staring at the three of them. "You need to knock it the fuck off," he warned, pointing at them, his eyes landing on each of them in turn. "Cass and Crowley in the back. Brooke, sit up front. I don't trust you not to stab Crowley while we're driving."

Brooke said nothing, but got into the front passenger side, slamming the door shut.

Castiel and Crowley got into the back of the car, squabbling about making room, and Dean had to yell at them again.

###

They sat on couches in some business building called Waldroff Financial—a front for an NSA listening post. All four of them stood up when Crowley was finally called back to talk to the demon he had planted here, but the man said, "Just Mr. Crowley."

"I'll be listening to every word you say," Castiel warned.

"Promise?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled as he was led away.

A few minutes later, Dean asked Castiel, "Hear anything?"

"No," Cass said, disappointed. "The room Crowley's in has been warded."

"Awesome," Dean said, sarcastically. "That's friggin' awesome…"

Brooke sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, still struggling internally with the desire to plunge an angel blade into Crowley's heart.

Castiel took one of her hands in both of his, palm up, and began to massage it, pressing his thumbs into the flesh, pulling at each finger. The feeling of it helped to ground her—how could anyone be angry when they were getting a massage, after all?

You've never done this, Brooke said.

Not with your hands, no, he agreed. But plenty of other places.

She remembered those nights when Castiel had come home to her after work, human, and sore from standing on his feet all day. All those massages. She smiled a little.

Crowley returned a few minutes later, holding a piece of paper. "Your phallus on wheels just ran a red light in Somerset, Pennsylvania, ten minutes ago," he told Dean, handing him the paper. It was a picture from a street camera, that showed the Impala running said red light. "Let's go," the demon said.

###

Capturing Sam, and whatever angel was in charge in his body, had been surprisingly easy, though Brooke's only part in it had been to stay in the car. Now, she stood beside her husband, staring down at Sam Winchester's body, chained to a chair with a piece of leather tied to his face, under his chin, to prevent his head from moving.

Brooke hated to see Sam like this, knowing that he was trapped somewhere inside his own head, and was suddenly grateful to Castiel for allowing her access to her own body and mind the two times he had ever possessed her. He glanced at her, silently acknowledging her gratefulness, but neither of them smiled, for the task before them was not going to be fun.

Crowley sat in a chair across from Sam, and Castiel was gripping his angel blade tightly, lest the demon try any funny business.

Suddenly, the angel inside Sam awoke, and immediately struggled against his bonds, to no avail.

"Welcome to the party, pal," Dean said, then glanced at Castiel. "Cass, how we lookin'?"

"Most of Sam's internal burns have healed," Cass replied. "I should be able to fix the rest." He spoke up, now, louder, to the angel inside Sam. "What's your name? I thought I knew every angel in Heaven, but I've never seen you."

Why didn't you realize he wasn't Ezekiel back at the bar, that night? Brooke asked, silently.

I was human at the time. I couldn't see the angel inside Sam.

Brooke stared at her husband, finding it strange that, without his powers, he could still hear angel radio, but could not see an angel inside a vessel.

"Why would I tell you anything?" the angel inside Sam asked, staring down Castiel.

"Well, I don't give a damn who you are," Dean growled, getting into Sam's—the angel's—face. "You need to get out, now."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you and I will have a lovely little playdate," Crowley spoke up, in that oily voice of his.

"Even bound, I can rip this body apart," the angel warned. "Tell them, Castiel."

"You do, you die," Dean said, before Castiel could say anything.

The angel stared up into Dean's face. "You want this to end?" He sat up a little straighter, as straight as he could while bound to the chair. "Go ahead," he said, calmly. "Put a blade through your brother's heart."

Brooke could not see Dean's face, but she could see the tension lining his shoulders.

"If it makes you feel better, I have Sam locked away in a dream," the angel said. "As far as he knows, the two of you are working a case right now—something with ghouls and cheerleaders."

Ew, Brooke thought.

Evidently, Dean didn't like it either. He made a face before asking, "Why are you doing this? We fought together. And I trusted you." He was growing louder with anger. "I thought you were one of the good guys!"

The angel took a breath and said, "I am doing what I have to do."

Dean stood up straighter. "Well, so am I." He turned and nodded to Crowley.

The demon stood up out of the chair, his chains rattling, and grabbed a small drill off of a tray beside his chair. "So am I," he murmured, and shoved the drill into the side of Sam's head.

The angel cried out in pain, in Sam's voice, and Brooke turned away, grimacing. Beside her, Castiel also turned away, and though his body language betrayed nothing but a general distaste for what was being done to Sam, underneath, he was roiling, memories of Naomi's torture sessions crashing through his mind.

Brooke put a hand on his arm, knowing that there was really nothing she could do for her husband in this moment.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, giving a small shake of the head as if to shake off the memories, but they continued to play. And they played, and they played, and they continued for an hour, as Crowley dug more drills into Sam's brain, and the sound of Sam screaming echoed off the walls.

Dean broke first, finally, walking off quickly down the hallway. Castiel, both wanting to comfort his friend and wanting, just as badly, to get away from the screaming, followed him. And Brooke, though she was no longer tied to her husband by the same Grace, felt that ever-present pull, that small tug at her center, whenever he walked away from her. She trailed after the two of them, glancing back, once, at Crowley and Sam, and the angel possessing him.

"I can't watch that anymore," Dean said, when Castiel and Brooke neared him. He was breathing hard.

"I understand," Cass said. "It's not Sam, but… it's still Sam."

"Pretty much, yeah." He flinched as Sam screamed again, and said, quickly, "How are you two doing?"

Brooke raised an eyebrow at him.

"You want to talk about Brooke and me, now?" Castiel asked.

"I want to talk about anything that's not a demon sticking needles into my brother's brain," Dean said, his voice breaking. He walked away, rubbing his eyes. "Humor me, man. How you doin'? Both of you."

Brooke glanced at Cass, who glanced at her.

"Um…" Castiel began, awkwardly. "I'm… I'm okay." It was a lie, but he did not want to add to Dean's list of things to worry about.

"Me too," Brooke spoke up.

"Good," said Dean, still staring at the wall. Then he turned, finally, and faced the two of them. "Good," he repeated. "That's good." He sniffed, gesturing at Castiel. "So, what, you just change the batteries out, power back up?" he asked, referring to the Grace in the angel's body. "It's that easy?"

"It wasn't easy," Castiel corrected, "but I didn't have a choice."

Dean sniffed. "Yeah. Well, that's usually how it goes." He moved closer to the angel and faced him, glancing at Brooke before saying, "Cass, I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Kickin' you out of the bunker. Kicking you both out, since wherever one of you goes, the other usually follows." He shook his head. "That's, uh… You know, not telling you about Sam—expecting Brooke to do it, when it wasn't up to her."

Brooke realized, then, that, while Dean was doing his best to include her in the conversation, it wasn't really about her. She turned away, silently, though she did not go far.

"You thought his life was at stake," Castiel said, gently.

"Yeah, I got played."

"I thought I was saving Heaven," Cass said, commiserating. "I got played, too."

"So you're saying we're both a couple of dumbasses?"

Brooke smiled.

"I prefer the word trusting," Castiel offered. "Less dumb, less ass. And besides, I was never alone. Brooke… I would have been lost without her, learning to be human, but… she never left me, not for a second."

Brooke smiled again, her eyes watering, and turned to look at her husband, squinting past all the demonic-looking twists in his features to find the true from underneath.

He offered her his hand, and she took it, squeezing.

"Laverne, Shirley!" Crowley called, from down the hall. Then, "Uhh… Mrs. Kolchek! Get in here!"

With some trepidation, the trio made their way back into the main room, where Crowley stood over Sam's body in the chair. There were multiple drills sticking out of his head, blood leaking from each puncture wound, but Sam, himself, had gone silent and looked like he was passed out.

"Pinhead's out cold," Crowley confirmed, "but watch this." He moved one of the needle-like drills around a little and Sam began to speak. Rather, the angel inside Sam's body began to speak.

"Zir noco iad Gadreel. Zir noco iad Gadreel."

Brooke glanced at Castiel, raising an eyebrow. A shiver went down her spine.

"What's he saying?" Dean asked.

"His name," Castiel said. "Gadreel."

"Does that mean somethin' to you?"

Castiel was staring at Sam—Gadreel—strangely. "Well, it's why I've never seen him. He's been imprisoned since the dawn of time." He turned to Dean, growling, "Gadreel was the sentry who allowed Lucifer into the Garden."

"My, my," Crowley said. "A celebrity."

"Wait, the Garden?" Dean repeated. "Like Eden? Adam and Eve? Fig-leaves Garden?"

Anger was stewing inside Castiel as he gazed at the angel possessing Sam. "It's his fault—all of it." His voice was rising steadily. "The corruption of man, demons, Hell. God left because of him. The Archangels…" He shook his head. "The Apocalypse. If he hadn't been so weak, none of it would have happened—

That unfamiliar Grace was rising, boiling in Castiel's blood.

Castiel, calm, Brooke warned, placing a hand on his arm.

He took a step toward Sam, and Brooke felt his desire to take hold of the angel and shake him.

Brooke kept a firm grip on Castiel's arm, squeezing it hard through layers of clothing.

Castiel spun to face her because she was preventing him from throttling the angel. "He ruined the universe, the damned son of a bitch!"

"Yes, I know," Brooke said, and grabbed her husband's face in her hands. "But I won't let you hurt Sam just because you're angry at Gadreel. Think of Sam, Castiel."

A muscle in his jaw was working, ticking, and the Grace inside him was still rising, reacting to his anger.

"Cass, you gotta chill," Dean said, behind him.

"Let go of me," Castiel growled, speaking to Brooke, though he did not attempt to remove her hands from his face, himself.

Brooke released him, and he turned on his heel and walked away, down the hall. She could feel his anger, still seething beneath the surface, and every fiber of her being wanted to follow him down that hallway, but she left him alone, and stayed with Dean while Crowley continued in his search through Sam's brain for a way to reach the younger Winchester.

Castiel was away from Brooke for, perhaps, ten minutes, reeling in his anger, which went much further than simply finding out that Sam was possessed by the angel Gadreel. He was angry at the world, and he was angry that he had lost his Grace and had to consume that of another angel, and he was angry that Crowley was here, and he was angry that… on, and on, and on.

But, presently, Brooke felt him slowly making his way back over to her the others. He came to stand beside and slightly behind her, and she could feel him hovering and her shoulder. His warm breath tickled the hairs at the back of her neck, and she suddenly, desperately, wished to feel him kiss her there, to feel the warmth of his mouth on her. They had not kissed since he had rescued her from her chains back when Malachi had taken them. They had embraced, and touched in other ways, but they had not kissed.

It was a terribly selfish thing to be thinking of, right then, but Brooke could not help but linger on the thought. Anything to distract her from having to watch a demon wiggle drills around in Sam's brain, even if he was blessedly silent now.

"What's taking so long?" Dean asked, quietly. He was leaned up against a table, his arms crossed, as if to protect himself from what he was being forced to watch.

"Other than the fact that I'm trying to unravel a living, multidimensional knot of pure energy, not much," Crowley replied, though there wasn't much snark in his voice, as he was concentrating on what he was doing.

Suddenly, Sam gasped.

But it wasn't Sam. Brooke could still see Gadreel's true form, bright as day. If Sam had taken control, that light would have been much dimmer.

"It won't work," Gadreel said, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head, having been released from the restraint earlier, and looked at Dean. "You will never find your brother."

Dean looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Go ahead," Gadreel continued, staring, now, at Crowley. "Poke and prod. I can sit in this chair for years and watch you fail over and over again." He turned to Dean again, saying, "I've endured much worse than this. So… much… worse. And I have all the time in the world."

"Shut up!" Dean yelled, his voice echoing in the metal chamber they were standing in.

Gadreel stopped speaking, settling himself more comfortably in his chair.

"All right, plan B," Dean said, turning to Castiel. "Cass, you gotta possess him."

"What?" Brooke and Castiel said, at the same time.

"Do it now!" Dean yelled. "Get in there, tell Sam what's going on, and help him kick that lying son of a bitch out!"

Castiel glanced at Brooke.

I don't have a problem with it, if you can do it without hurting yourself, she told him. But…

Yes, he agreed. But. He sighed and turned to Dean. "It might work," he said. "But I can't possess a vessel without permission."

Crowley suddenly cleared his throat, raising his hand a little. He was volunteering himself to possess Sam.

"No," said Dean, immediately. "Not happening."

"Don't be daft," Crowley argued. "Demons can take what they want. I can burrow into that rat's nest of a head. I can wake Sam up. Just call me plan C."

"You can't," Castiel began to say, but Dean cut him off immediately.

"You got a better idea?" he asked.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Brooke made a face, turning away. She didn't want to think about Crowley possessing anyone.

"What about the angel?" Dean asked the demon.

"I'll work fast," Crowley assured him, smirking.

"And if he finds you?"

"I'll run. I'm not dying for you lot. Of course, if I do this, you're gonna have to—

"Take off the leash," Dean finished, in a harsh whisper. "Yeah, I know."

"And it stays off," Crowley snapped. "I save Sam, I leave here a free man. Do we have a deal?"

Dean stood there, for a moment, breathing heavily, staring at Crowley. Then he glanced at Castiel. "Cass, burn off Sam's tattoo."

Brooke closed her eyes.

"Dean," Castiel said, wanting to argue. Brooke didn't blame him.

"Do it," Dean said. "Do it."

Castiel reluctantly stepped forward, pulled Sam's shirt aside, and erased Sam's anti-possession tattoo from his chest.

Dean turned and pointed accusingly at Crowley. "If you mess with Sam… if you try anything—

"I keep my bargains," Crowley said, calmly. "Besides, I don't want to be inside your brother any longer than I have to. I'm not one for sloppy seconds." He rattled the chain at his neck and sat down in the chair across from Sam's body.

Brooke felt suddenly nauseous and turned away, swallowing against a dry heave.

Castiel placed a hand on her shoulder, concerned. Are you all right?

Just… remembering the first night I met you, she replied, smiling mirthlessly over her shoulder at him. Fun times, being possessed by a demon, tied to a chair, threatened with a knife. Yeah, I got to meet you, but before you got there… She shook her head.

Cass grimaced in sympathy, squeezing her shoulder.

"When you find him," Dean was saying to Crowley, "say Poughkeepsie. It's our go word. It means drop everything and run."

"Fine," said Crowley. "While I'm gone, hands off the suit."

"I will destroy you," Gadreel said to the demon.

Castiel turned away from Brooke and she felt him, through their connection, shove Sam's body back against the chair, holding him in place.

Brooke, herself, stayed facing the other direction, not really keen to watch a demon possession take place.

"Eat me," Crowley said to the angel.

Brooke squeezed her eyes shut as she felt Crowley leave whatever body he normally possessed and enter Sam. The resulting clash of demon and angel inside Sam's body made her feel sick all over again, and she refused to turn and look at the younger Winchester, afraid to see what the two opposing forces looked like when mashed into the same body. Groaning a little, she stepped away, down the hall.

She felt Castiel begin to follow and said, No. No, you stay with… with Dean.

Reluctantly, he stood in place, and Brooke leaned against a far wall, keeping her eyes firmly in the opposite direction from where Sam's body was sitting.

A few minutes later, there was a whoosh of air and light and energy that poured from Sam's body, up and out, and away. And a few seconds later, Crowley left Sam's body, as well, re-entering whatever poor man he had been possessing for years. Suddenly, Brooke was struck with the awful realization that Meg had been possessing some woman all those years. A human woman. And the woman had died when Meg had died. And the woman had been kissed by Brooke when Brooke had really been kissing the demon…

Feeling severely emotionally confused and grossed out, Brooke turned and made her way back to where the others were.

"Cass?" Sam asked, as the angel removed all those drills from his head.

Light appeared from the dirty window above their heads.

Castiel went quickly up the stairs to peer through the window. "It's Abaddon," he warned. The Knight of Hell.

They all looked around at each other, wondering what the hell to do now.

"Go," Crowley said, suddenly. "The back door. I'll handle this."

"Oh, 'cos you're such a good guy?" Dean said, disbelieving.

"Right now, I'm the goodest guy you got."

Castiel had come back down the stairs and he and Brooke grabbed Sam's arm and slowly lifted him to his feet, beginning to walk him away, toward the back door.

"This don't make us square," Dean said to Crowley. "I see you again—

"I'm dead," Crowley finished. "Yes, I know. I love you too."

Dean chased after the others.

"Pleasure doing business with you boys—and Whore—as always!" Crowley called out.

###

Far away now, and late into the night, they stood outside, on the side of the road.

Castiel poured healing light from his hand over Sam's forehead, and the wounds in his head from the drills closed up, the blood vanishing. Sam rocked a little on his feet, blinking.

"You feel better?" Castiel asked him.

"A little, yeah," Sam said, nodding. He looked… exhausted.

And Brooke couldn't blame him. He'd had a rogue angel inside his body for months, and been tortured by Crowley by getting drills shoved into his head for the past three hours. Yes, they'd been trying to help Sam by shoving those drills into his brain, but it had still been torture, nevertheless.

"It'll take time to fully heal you," Castiel explained. "We'll have to do it in stages."

Sam nodded, his hands shoved into his coat pocket against the rain and the cold.

Dean slowly approached his brother. "All right, let me hear it," he said, waiting for Sam to yell at him about everything he'd put him through by allowing Gadreel into his body.

Brooke glanced at Castiel, and the two of them walked away, giving the brothers their space.

Three minutes later, Dean was driving off in the Impala by himself, leaving Sam, Castiel, and Brooke standing in the rain, watching him go. Of course, Castiel, being an angel, had heard every word spoken between the brothers, which meant that Brooke had heard them, too.

Dean felt like he hurt everyone who ever got close to him. He was still reeling from Kevin's death at Gadreel's hands, and he no longer felt worthy enough to stand beside his friends and family. He felt he needed to go off and do things on his own.

Castiel watched his best friend get into the car and drive off, his heart heavy.

And so, once again, the man you love leaves without you, Brooke said, gently, sympathetically.

Yes, agreed Castiel, his hands in his coat pockets. He turned to look at her. But the woman I love is still here, with me.

She smiled, inclining her head. I'll always be here.

I know.

Brooke sighed. Now we need to be here for Sam, because Dean just left him, too. She looked up at the younger Winchester brother. "You want a hug, Sam?" she asked.

He gave her a small, tired smile, and shook his head. "No, but, um… thanks for the offer."

And the three of them stood, quietly, in the rain together, for a little while.