Thirty-one

Brooke was shocked at how quickly a big enough group of angels could create a working Headquarters. Castiel didn't really give a big speech upon meeting the initial members of their group. He mostly just said he was happy to have them, if they would have him. His biggest rules were: no violence, unless it was absolutely necessary, and to treat his wife with the same level of respect that they showed him. To Brooke's pleasant surprise, none of the angels had a problem with her, at least not a problem that any of them outwardly showed.

Despite this, Castiel had Brooke's sleeping quarters set up in his office, just in case one of his members was really a spy, or decided to go rogue. Since Castiel did not need to sleep, this meant he could do whatever needed doing in his office while also keeping watch over her while she was at her most vulnerable. She was otherwise free to move about the Headquarters as she pleased, but mostly, she stayed with her husband. Of course, if she had put up a fuss about her sleeping situation, she was sure he would have agreed to something else, but she had never dreamed of doing so. She wanted to be near her husband.

She spent much of her time listening as reports were given to him about anything regarding Metatron, Gadreel, the other factions… She did not speak much, preferring to listen and take in the information. Castiel often asked her for an opinion on something, and she gave it, but was otherwise silent. The angels who reported to her husband always treated her with respect, and Mrs. Harris rolled off their tongues as easily as Commander did. She often found herself being handed things by his recruits: food, report files, food, books for entertainment, food… Even with so many months on Earth, it seemed most angels were unaware how much food it really took to fuel a human, and they treated Brooke as if she were about to die of starvation if she did not eat every hour on the hour. She always accepted the food gratefully, although she became increasingly unaware of what to do with it, since she was not going to eat seven meals a day. Eventually, she began to quietly explain to the recruits that humans really only needed three square meals a day, and the information seemed to slowly trickle outwards, until she was only being given meals at the appropriate hours.

Weeks went by, until the Headquarters, and its members, fell into a kind of routine. It was a boring, tedious routine, but Brooke had not expected anything more. This was a military operation, and they were searching for information about angels who wanted to hunt and kill them all. It wasn't going to be fun, doing this. It was about survival. So, when they actually found some vital piece of information, it was a huge pay-off, especially if it meant that Commander Castiel was going to call in Sam and Dean.

"Sir, Ma'am," the angel Benjamin said, from behind Brooke, knocking on the doorframe.

She turned, with her husband to find Sam and Dean poking their noses past Benjamin to look around Castiel's office. They walked past him, into the room, and the four of them exchanged hugs.

Benjamin stood, rigidly, by the door.

Castiel saw him and cleared his throat. "Um… dismissed."

Benjamin nodded to him, nodded to Brooke, and left.

Cass pursed his lips, glancing between the boys. "He can be a little stuffy."

"So," said Dean, with a raised eyebrow, "Commander."

"Yeah," Castiel said, shrugging. "Not my idea."

"No," Brooke chimed in, with a grin. "My idea." She winked at Dean.

"Ohh," Dean said, making a face, "gross."

"They had no leader," Cass explained, "and they insisted on following me."

"Yeah, no, we get it," Dean said. "You're a rockstar."

Castiel looked at him uncomfortably. "Bartholomew is dead. Malachi was murdered by Gadreel. And with Metatron as powerful as he is now, I needed to do something."

You don't need to explain yourself to anyone, Castiel, Brooke told her husband, silently.

Not even to Dean? he asked.

"So, this war between the angels is really gonna happen, huh?" Sam asked, glancing out the office window, interrupting their thoughts.

"Not if Brooke and I can find a diplomatic option for getting rid of Metatron."

"Good luck with that," Dean said.

"Have a little faith," Brooke snapped. She'd grown so used to everyone around them treating Castiel with the utmost respect that she found she had no patience for Dean's crap.

The older Winchester gazed at her, as if surprised by her outburst.

"Dean," Castiel said, putting a hand on Brooke's arm, "this angel-on-angel violence—it has to end. Someone has to say enough."

"And that someone is you?" Sam asked, moving back toward the table where Castiel and Brooke were standing.

"That brings me to why you're here," Castiel said. "We have a prisoner. It's an angel from Metatron's inner circle. I need to know what they're planning, but so far, he's revealed nothing."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "So, you're done with the rough stuff, and you want us to be your goons."

"Well, you've had success at these situations before."

Dean smiled at him, rather unkindly.

Brooke leaned down over the desk and stared at him. "So, you can call Cass for whatever you need, whenever you want, but… he can't do the same to you?" she asked, her voice low.

Dean stared down at her, giving her that same unkind smile.

That's not helpful, Castiel told her, quietly. Aloud, he said, "If you don't want to do it, I understand."

"Who says I don't want to do it?" Dean asked, still smiling.

Sam turned to look at his brother with concern in his eyes.

Brooke caught the look and told Castiel, Something's up.

Yes, he agreed. But we need him.

No, you need him, Brooke corrected. He's your boyfriend.

Are you still upset about that? Castiel asked, his inner voice going soft.

No. You love who you love. That doesn't mean I have to love him, too.

###

Sam and Dean had successfully interrogated the angel, and without leaving a scratch on him. It turned out that angels really were a lot like humans, and if you pressed the right emotional buttons, they'd pour their hearts and nonexistent souls out to you. Everything had gone smoothly… and then the prisoner had wound up, somehow, dead. Stabbed through the chest.

Castiel was very upset. Operations had been going so well, and there had been no violence from any of his recruits since he had started this whole thing. He'd been proud of himself for that. He'd been proud of himself for all of this, for stepping up and becoming a leader, and not failing. But he took this death hard, as if he had killed the prisoner, himself.

"It's unbelievable," Sam murmured, back in Cass' office. "I mean, he was fine when we left him."

"I barely touched the guy," Dean added.

Sam shook his head. "Still shackled, no weapon. It wasn't suicide."

"No," Castiel agreed, shortly, leaning against his desk, his arms folded. "This was an angel kill."

"It wasn't your fault," Brooke told him, terrified that he was about to start doubting every move he made all over again.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna say it," Dean spoke up, from his chair. "Maybe your operation's been hacked. You know, Metatron's got somebody on the inside."

Castiel shook his head, staring at nothing, his face grim. "I was sure everyone here was loyal." He smiled, though there was no joy in it, and shook his head. "Finally united by a common cause."

"Well, that's the problem," said Dean. "See, you don't think anybody's lying. I think everybody's lying."

Castiel stared at him.

"It's a gift," Dean followed up, as if anything about this situation was funny. He got up out of his chair, tapping Sam on the knee. "Let's do some nosin' around."

Sam hesitated, standing up much later than his brother, which gave Castiel a chance to catch him without Dean in the room.

"Sam, do you have a moment?"

"Yeah. What?"

"I wanted to ask you about Gadreel, the time he possessed you."

"It's not really something I like to—

"Sam, please."

Brooke folded her arms over her chest and pretended to be very busy looking at a map spread over her husband's desk.

"He didn't possess me completely," Sam finally began. "More like we, uh… shared housing. I was still me."

"Did you ever sense a presence?" Castiel asked.

"I don't really know what I felt. I mean, maybe, that I wasn't completely alone."

"Did you ever feel threatened?"

"No. More that he… wasn't at rest, l-like he had unfinished business. Now that I know more about him, I'd say he felt misunderstood."

"But not—not a danger. Not hostile?"

"No." Sam scoffed. "I was wrong, obviously. He killed Kevin."

There was a pause, and then Brooke heard Sam leave the office.

Brooke stood up from fake-studying the map. "So, you think Gadreel isn't a horrible monster?" she asked, coming around her desk to Castiel.

"Maybe I can reason with him," he replied, absentmindedly tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

"All right," she said, and then took his face in her hands. "Now, you listen to me, Castiel, while we have this time." She looked into his eyes. "What happened to the prisoner is not your fault. Whoever killed him, it wasn't because of something you did, or didn't do. Whoever killed that prisoner was already planning on doing something sick and deranged, and there's no reasoning with those kinds of people—angels, humans, whoever. I need you to believe that before you go all self-hating on me again. Okay?"

Castiel sighed, heavily, but nodded. "All right," he agreed, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. Then he stood up and went out of the office, to go arrange a meeting with Gadreel.

###

He left without her, saying that Gadreel would only agree to meet if they both came alone. And alone really meant alone. It felt strange to sit around in Castiel's office without him, twiddling her thumbs and worrying for his safety while he went out to meet a potentially dangerous angel by himself. Not that she thought he couldn't handle himself; he was perfectly capable of, well… pretty much anything he put his mind to. It was simply that she went with him everywhere. Being stuck, alone, in his office felt shitty, and he did not even return until the next morning.

By that time, Brooke was a worried mess, assuming that Gadreel had somehow gotten the drop on her husband and that he was now lying dead in a ditch somewhere. When he finally came back into his office the next morning, she immediately threw her arms around him. As he held her, he poured his thoughts into her mind—everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours, or so, hours.

He had met with Gadreel, but had been ambushed by a few of Metatron's followers. Gadreel had sworn up and down that he had not known about the ambush, and had even helped Castiel fight the angels off. Afterwards, Castiel had convinced Gadreel to keep close to Metatron, act as if nothing had happened, but report Metatron's actions back to Castiel. If there was some kind of spy in Cass' midst, then it was only fair that there should be a spy in Metatron's, as well.

You think Gadreel will follow through? Brooke asked, holding her husband close.

I don't know, Castiel admitted. I have to hope that I somehow got through to him. He seemed like he wanted to do the right thing, but… even I'm beginning to wonder what the right thing is.

Hey, Brooke said, pulling back from him to look into his face. Stop that.

He inhaled slowly, nodding.

You know what I like about you? she said, touching his face.

He chuckled. Everything?

Well, yes. But, specifically, in this moment, I like how persistent you are. You try, and you fail, so you try again. And people and angels and demons knock you down, so you try again. And you try some more. And you just… keep trying. And it annoys the shit out of your enemies because they can't keep you down for good. Because you never give up.

Castiel smiled, inclining his head, and closed his eyes.