Twenty-six

Brooke, Castiel, and Sam had returned to the bunker days ago. Castiel healed a little more of Sam each day, and the Winchester was slowly looking and acting more like his old self as time went on.

The first night back, Brooke stumbled to her room, exhausted, to find a queen-sized bed all set up, with a nice blanket, and four pillows, two of which were decorative. She stood in the doorway, blinking, wondering who the hell had set this up for her. Castiel stood beside her, silently.

Sam, who was also making his way to bed, walked past them in the hallway and turned to see what they were so enraptured by. "Oh, yeah," he said, with a tired smile. "Dean did all that, like, a week after you guys left. Stole someone's truck to have room for the frame, and the mattress, and stuff."

Brooke turned to look at Sam, amazed that Dean Winchester would ever do something so thoughtful.

Sam yawned. "He felt so bad after kicking you guys out, he… He saw the two mattresses on the floor and just turned around and left. Came back two hours later in a truck, and made me come up and help get all the stuff through the door."

Brooke smiled and looked at her shoes as Sam shuffled off to his room to crash. She turned back to face the bedroom, staring at the bed, and then stepped lightly into the room.

Castiel followed, closing the door, and then stood there, right beside it, hovering. Unsure. A little afraid. They still had hardly touched since he had consumed the Grace of another angel, and it had been back at their old motel room days ago that they had even laid in a bed together. And now, Castiel stood beside the door, as it to bolt, terrified that the ugly twisting of his true form would cause Brooke to stop loving him.

Exhausted, but determined, Brooke reached out with her mind and gave her soldier an order: Kiss me.

Castiel stepped closer to her, obediently, and bent down to kiss her lips, but stopped, hovering over her. He remembered, suddenly, her desire back in that dank metal room where they had brought Gadreel, for Castiel, standing behind her, to kiss her neck. He straightened, and slowly moved behind her, lifting her hair and pulling it, gently, away from her neck, letting it fall against her back.

Brooke stood still, feeling the heat from her husband's body radiating from him, warming her back, though he did not touch her. He bent and placed his mouth against her neck, warm breath suffusing her skin, there. Immediately, pleasure spread from that point on her neck, outward and downward, throughout her body. She was so tired, but as he lifted his head and placed another kiss on another part of her neck, need sent sparks to her core, made her toes curl in her shoes.

She spun around to face him and pulled him to her, kissing him. And it felt all wrong, the discordant notes between their Graces. But, underneath that, it felt right. Castiel was solid and warm, and he was kissing her the way they had always kissed, and from that, he was still utterly familiar to her. They had been so strange around each other since he had stolen the angel Theo's Grace, and she hated it.

A war was raging in her body between her need for Castiel, and her need for sleep.

Sleep, he told her, pulling away from her.

But, in their lives, there was no telling when they'd have their next moment alone. She shook her head. Kiss me, she ordered, again.

Smiling indulgently, he bent down and kissed her again, more gently, but began pull off his trench coat.

Oh, you do wanna fuck, she teased.

No, he said, amused. I'm getting ready for bed.

But you don't sleep.

And since when has that stopped me from laying in bed with you?

She groaned in annoyance, swaying on her feet, and the thought of sleep suddenly sounded divine to her. Half-asleep, already, she pulled blindly at her clothes and tumbled into the bed, smiling at the feel of the mattress beneath her. Very comfortable. Maybe, she thought, she should make Dean feel bad more often, if his solution to feeling bad was buying her expensive things.

She felt the other side of the bed shift as Castiel lay down, and she was gone, into sleep.

…

The next morning, the moment she was semi-coherent, she felt Castiel reach over and kiss her cheek.

Good morning to you, too, she thought to him, for she was not yet awake enough to feel like talking.

He said nothing, but reached down to kiss her shoulder.

She smiled, lazily, still in the process of waking up.

He seemed to stop, there, and she began to drift back off into sleep, but in another few moments, he was kissing her stomach. She jolted into wakefulness, the feel of him making her squirm—she was ticklish there. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice strong for the shot of adrenaline he had just given her by kissing such a sensitive area.

I'm doing as you ordered, he replied, silently. I'm kissing you. There was clear amusement in his tone.

"You know you can stop now, if you want."

I don't want to stop, he said, and she felt him move, slowly, downward, in the bed, and kiss the spot above her panty-line where her tattoo was: Angel Whore.

"Cass…" she breathed.

He tugged gently at her panties, and after a few moments, she saw one bare arm push out of the blankets, and he tossed her undergarments aside.

Automatically, she reached down into the blankets and tangled her hands into his hair. What has gotten into you? she asked. You hardly ever initiate this kind of thing.

A rumble sounded from somewhere inside the blankets, a growl in his chest.

She gasped and arched her back as he buried his tongue inside her.

I've been wanting to do this since last night, he said. But you were tired.

Brooke was too far gone to even respond.

###

Three or four days after returning to the bunker, Sam was feeling well enough to make a grocery run. Both Brooke and Castiel offered to go with him, but he insisted on going by himself, stating that he didn't feel like being babied. So, off he went.

In the meantime, the two of them found something to do—mostly read. Around lunchtime, Brooke went into the kitchen to make herself something, and Castiel followed along behind her.

You don't need to follow me, she said, kindly. You can go back to your book.

Thoughts churned around in his mind. I miss food, he said.

Ah, she replied, understanding why he was following her into the kitchen. Well… you can try to eat something, I guess. It won't hurt you. The worst that'll happen is it'll just be… gross.

A sudden thought entered her brain, and she didn't know why she'd never wondered this before now. Hey, wait a minute, she said, slowly.

Mm?

She turned to face him, in the kitchen, smiling awkwardly. So, uh, food is gross to an angel, right? So, then… She paused, and then shrugged. I don't know how to ask this politely. When you shove your tongue into my vagina, isn't it disgusting?

Castiel raised an eyebrow, smiling down at her in amusement. You are… an acquired taste, he said.

She laughed. So what you're saying is that I taste disgusting.

He shook his head, slowly, and bent down to kiss her. No. I'm saying you taste like you. And I… like the way you taste.

Uh-huh, she said, skeptically.

He stared down at her, blue eyes glittering, and shoved two fingers into the waistband of her pants. Shall I prove it to you, now? he asked.

She laughed again. No. Food.

…

She watched as he took a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and pursed her lips in sympathy as he immediately grimaced in disgust.

"Mm." He made a sound in his throat.

The bunker door opened above their heads.

Brooke looked up to see Sam coming through the door with the groceries. "Hey," he called down.

Cass, still distracted by the food in his mouth, muttered, "Tastes like… molecules."

"What?" Sam asked. "What are you talking about?"

"When I was human," Castiel explained to Sam, "you know I…" He laughed. "I had to eat constantly. It was… kind of annoying." He made a face as he continued to chew the small bite of food in his mouth.

"Yeah, a lot of human things are pretty annoying," Sam agreed.

"But… I enjoyed the taste of food. Particularly peanut butter with grape jelly—not jam. Jam I found unsettling." He looked up at Sam as the Winchester came to stand at the table.

You find jam unsettling but not vaginal fluid? Brooke asked, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel stilled and then stared at her across the table. Like I said, I would be happy to prove to you that you don't taste disgusting to me.

She smirked at him. I'm just fuckin' with you.

No, you're not, Castiel growled. But you will be.

Since the first morning of their return, when she's awoken to find Castiel about to give her oral, he'd been like this. Very physical, very provocative, as if he had something to prove to her. She couldn't say she disliked it, but wondered at his sudden change in personality. Normally, she was the one who initiated such inappropriate conversation, she was the one who sent him dirty thoughts and images. Now, it was about equal between them.

Sam set the bag down on the table, startling her. "So, what? Now you can't taste PB&J?" He sat down on the edge of the table, swiped his finger into the bitten-off part of the sandwich, and stuck it in his mouth.

"No, I—I taste every molecule," Castiel said, copying Sam and dipping his finger into the sandwich to get a bit of peanut butter and jelly onto his finger. He put it in his mouth, tasting slowly, rolling it on his tongue, like fine wine, but immediately made another face. "It's overwhelming," he complained. "It's disgusting."

Sam snorted.

Castiel sighed. "I miss you PB&J," he said, and pushed up from the table. He studied Sam for a moment, and said, "We need to continue your healing."

The Winchester sighed uncomfortably. Apparently the healing process wasn't very fun for him.

"We're almost done," Castiel assured him, with a small smile, and placed two fingers against Sam's forehead. Immediately, a strange interference sounded off in his head, and in Brooke's. It was Gadreel's Grace. Castiel had felt it the first time he'd ever healed Sam, but had said nothing about it because, at the time, it hadn't been important. But now that he was almost completely healed, he and Brooke had been wondering how best to explain to Sam that those possessed by angels always contained part of the angel's Grace… usually forever, unless it burned out.

Sam glanced between the two of them, seeing their confused faces, and snapped, "What?"

"Nothing," Cass replied, quickly, glancing away from him.

Sam smacked his hand away. "You're a terrible liar."

"That is not true," Castiel said, loudly. "I once deceived and betrayed both you and your brother."

Brooke broke into laughter, leaning over against the table. "Cass!" she yelled. "That's… Don't sound so proud of yourself."

"Okay, that's not the point," Sam said, annoyed. "Cass, what's wrong?"

Castiel sighed, glancing at Brooke again.

Just tell him, she said.

Castiel sat down again. "Sam, there's… there's a part of Gadreel's Grace inside you, still."

Sam stared at the angel. "What?"

Brooke leaned forward. "Are you really so surprised? You've known me for years. I've got Cass' Grace in me."

Sam looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "I thought you were like, special, or something."

She smiled mirthlessly. "You're about the only one who thinks that… No, it happens to all humans who are possessed by an angel. A small part of their Grace is left behind when they leave."

"Okay, so then, we can just remove it, somehow, right?"

"It's… it's not that easy," Castiel replied, gently. "I don't know of a way to remove it without harming you. Look, maybe we should call Dean. He might have some ideas—

"No," Sam snapped, getting up off the table so that he could sit properly in a chair. "He wanted to go, and he's gone. We'll handle this."

Castiel stared down at the Winchester for a moment, and then sighed and sat down in his chair, feeling frustrated. Dean had not called any of them since leaving in the Impala that night that they had saved Sam from Gadreel, and Cass wasn't taking his absence very well.

Briefly, Brooke wondered if maybe missing Dean was what was causing Castiel's sudden spike in libido—

That's not why, Castiel said, staring at her across the table.

Brooke flicked her gaze up to meet his. So, what is it? she asked. You've been acting like we've never fucked before.

Castiel looked away from her, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought of how to word what he was trying to say. Beside him, Sam began to read the book that Castiel had been looking at earlier.

It's… pathetic, Castiel murmured.

What is?

Me.

She shook her head at him. Don't do that self-hating crap.

"If you two are gonna do your mind-meld thing, can you do it somewhere else?" Sam suddenly spoke up. "I might not be able to hear you, but you're making me feel weird. You just stare at each other. Creeps me out."

"Sorry," Castiel muttered, standing up.

Brooke followed him to another part of the bunker. As they walked, she asked, You were talking about how pathetic you are? Which you aren't.

Castiel sighed. Ever since I absorbed Theo's Grace… He closed his eyes. You know, he said. You know how it makes me look, how it makes me feel. I'm… ugly. I—

You think I care about that? she asked, touching his face.

He gazed down at her. You did, for a little while.

It just took some time getting used to it, she argued.

My point is, I feel… disgusting. I hate it. I hate what this Grace is doing to my body. I hate looking at myself in a mirror, past my vessel. I don't even have wings—damaged or not. I don't feel… like myself.

I know, she said, and held him. I'm sorry.

He pulled, gently, at strands of her hair. But when I'm with you, especially sexually, I feel… I feel like me again, almost. I can forget, for a little while.

She pulled back from him, shaking her head. Can't you just see yourself as I see you? You're in my head. Just… Look.

And she tried to remember every good memory she had of her husband: the night he had rescued her; their first kiss; all those hilariously awkward conversations sitting in her car; the day he had possessed her for the first time, to save her life; the day Lucifer had killed him, but he had come back to her, bright and beautiful, and given himself to her again.

Their time, spent together, as Emmanuel and Ruth, reading together, curled up on the couch; hiking with Daphne; watching Castiel heal countless humans…

The memories went on and on, but quick as thought, so that by the time Brooke was done remembering them all, only a few seconds had passed.

Castiel pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, breathing her in. Thank you, he said, quietly, and something inside him seemed to settle. He felt a little less ugly to himself, a little more comfortable in his own skin. A little calmer.

Don't stop initiating sex just 'cos you're better, now, Brooke teased.

He smiled and kissed her, then pulled back. We should return to Sam… See if we can discover how to safely extract Gadreel's Grace from him.