Thirty-three

The car ride back to Headquarters was tense. Sam had hardly spoken since Cass had explained to him what his brother had done. In fact, neither of them spoke a word the entire way back. Brooke's mind was spinning between feeling angry at Dean for fucking everything up again, and worrying about her husband and his mental wellbeing. By the time they got into HQ, everyone's nerves were shot.

They followed Hannah to a back, locked room, wherein sat Dean, tied to a chair, handcuffed, with duct tape over his mouth. "He put up a fight," Hannah explained, but Brooke didn't care what the reason was; she thought Dean had never looked so good, tied to a chair where he belonged. His nose was bloody.

"Get out," Castiel said to Hannah.

Sam walked over to his brother and tore the tape off his mouth.

Dean made a sound of pain as the tape pulled at the hair on his face, then he said, "You shoulda seen the other ten guys."

"They said you killed Tessa?" Castiel demanded, not wanting to deal with Dean's shit at the moment.

"Not so much," Dean replied, as Sam unlocked his handcuffs. "She knifed herself."

"Bullshit," Brooke spat, and it took everything in her not to lunge at the Winchester and smash her fist into his face.

"Why would she do that, Dean?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, Sam. She was sayin' all kinds of crap."

"So, that's why you brought out the First Blade?"

Dean stood up from the chair. "They told you about that, huh?"

Brooke twitched.

Castiel laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezing. I understand your anger, he said, quietly. I'm angry, too. But you need to calm down.

Growling, Brooke backed up and leaned against the wall near the door, folding her arms over her chest lest her hands grab at Dean's throat of their own accord.

"We had a deal," Sam reminded his brother. Brooke did not know what deal they were referring to, but whatever it was, it didn't seem to matter to Dean.

"Yeah, well, it was a stupid deal."

"Really? 'Cos if you'd stuck to it, Tessa would still be alive! Without her, we ain't got jack."

"Yeah, you think I don't know that?" Dean snapped, his voice raising. "You think I wanted that to happen?"

"I don't know, Dean! Did you?"

Castiel stepped forward. "All right, that's enough! Stop it." He stared between the two brothers, and though Brooke could not see his eyes, she imagined them hard, and steely. His back was rigid, shoulders squared. He was pissed.

Hannah opened the door. "Commander, I'm sorry, but…"

Castiel turned on his heel and stared at her like he was about to throttle her.

Hannah swallowed, but continued. "You have a call… from Metatron."

Brooke closed her eyes, rubbing them with the heels of her hands. Oh my God. What now?

Castiel hesitated, then sighed heavily and began to walk out the door, to follow Hannah. Sam came next. Dean moved to follow his brother and Brooke stood in front of the door, staring up at the elder Winchester.

He stared back at her, one eyebrow raised. "You wanna say somethin' to me?" he asked, his voice low.

She said nothing, simply staring up at him, her fingers twitching.

Castiel paused in the hallway, and though he did not come back, he said to her, Brooke. Stop. It's not worth it.

Brooke glared up at Dean Winchester for another moment, then spun around and marched out the door to follow her husband. She could feel Dean behind her, and it took everything in her not to turn and punch him in the face.

They made their way back to the main hub and Brooke saw Metatron's face on one of the computer screens. "Castiel," he said, with that oily smile. "Bet you're not happy to see me."

"Is anyone?" Dean asked. "Ever?"

"Dean," Metatron said, with another smile. "Always with the B-grade 80s-action-movie wit."

"What do you want, Metatron?" Sam asked, standing on Brooke's left.

"Just to tell Asstiel, there, that I'm still alive. His bomber failed."

"My bomber?" Castiel spoke up, staring at Metatron in confusion.

"The crazy guy," Metatron replied. "Big knife. Kablooey. I'm fine, thanks for asking. But Gadreel is wounded, and Tyrus…" He clicked his tongue, drawing a finger over his throat. "R.I.P. His followers are not your biggest fans, by the way. They've all come over to my team."

"I didn't send anyone to kill you," Castiel said, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Oh, stop lying, Castiel!"

Cass' calm demeanor broke a little at Metatron's claim that he was lying. "Who are you to lecture me on lying?" he demanded. "Your deception led to the fall!"

Metatron leaned forward in his chair. "I did what I had to do. I have always done what I have to do, for God and for the angels."

Dean quipped some one-liner that Brooke ignored. She was too busy trying to put together, in her head, this whole thing about these angel suicide bombers. She had thought, at first, that Metatron was the one sending them out to spread false rumors about her husband. But if one of them had tried to kill him, then, surely, he wasn't the one sending them out. Unless he was making up the fact that an angel had tried to kill him…

"Every angel," Metatron was saying now, "no matter what their sin, may join me and return to Heaven. I will be their God, and they can be my Heavenly Host."

Brooke rolled her eyes at the idea of anyone accepting Metatron as their God. The idea disgusted her.

"Why would we follow you?" Hannah asked.

Yeah, thought Brooke.

Metatron went on and on about how angels needed to follow someone, how it was in their DNA, but how they shouldn't be following Castiel. "He sends angels out to die." Metatron stared at Castiel. "Have you told them about your stolen Grace? How it's fading away, and when it burns out, so will you?"

Brooke's nostrils flared and she snatched her husband's hand in her own. She had known for a long time that the foreign Grace inside Castiel was exhausting him, pulling at his true form constantly, trying to escape his body because it did not belong. But they'd hardly had a moment to themselves since his army had formed, and they had not talked about this aspect of it. Brooke had been shoving it to the back of her mind for weeks, focused only on how happy Castiel had seemed, finally doing something that mattered, leading others, trying to return his brothers and sisters to Heaven. There had been no time to worry about what a stranger's Grace was doing to his body. And Brooke, disconnected from their Grace-to-Grace connection, had not felt the effects as strongly as she would have, otherwise.

"So…" said Metatron, breaking Brooke out of her spiral of thoughts. "No, then. You haven't told them?"

Castiel said nothing, but glanced about uncomfortably. Brooke could feel the eyes of dozens of angels on her husband as they all began to wonder about his stolen Grace.

"I'm not the best," Metatron said, "but I'm the best you've got. You wanna stay with Castiel, fine, but he's playing you, because at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is himself, his whore, and the Hardy Boys, there. You've got a choice to make. Make the right one." The Scribe leaned forward and the camera went dark.

Castiel immediately turned to face his army, and they all turned to face him.

And Brooke could feel the shift as it happened, as dozens of angels all, immediately, turned against their Commander.

"He's lying," Castiel said, desperately.

"About the Grace?" Hannah asked, quietly.

Castiel flinched, but managed to look her in the eye. "It's… complicated."

"So, he wasn't lying," another angel spoke up.

"He was, about everything else. He…"

Brooke closed her eyes, keeping her hand in her husband's. She was reminded of what had happened several years ago, when Castiel had been lying to Sam and Dean, had been working with Crowley to open the doors to Purgatory. And he had given himself away, and they had seen it. And then it had just been Brooke and Castiel, against all the rest. And now, it was the same. His own army stared at him with blank eyes, putting walls up where no walls had been.

Castiel had felt the shift, as well, and he gazed around at all his people as they stared back, arms crossed, shoulders squared. His breath hitched. He turned to Hannah. "You believe me, don't you?" he asked. Hannah, who had come to him first, the first angel who had believed in him.

"I want to believe you," she began, "but I…"

Castiel looked like he'd just been slapped in the face.

Hannah turned to look over her shoulder at all the others standing there. "We need proof," she declared.

"Name it," Castiel said, immediately.

"Punish him," Hannah said, glancing at Dean.

"What?" Dean asked.

"He murdered Tessa," Hannah explained. "He broke our rules."

Dean smiled around at all the angels and said, "Y'all can all go to Hell." He began to walk away, to move toward the exit.

"Dean," Castiel called, his voice quiet.

Multiple angels suddenly reached out and grabbed the Winchester, holding him.

"Wait a second!" Sam cried, trying to get to his brother, but he was pushed back by more angels, also held by the arms, so that he could not interfere.

Brooke stood stock-still, staring around at everyone and everything that was happening. She had no idea whose side she was on, if she was being honest with herself. Punishing Dean did not seem like the worst thing in the world. If Cass could just rough him up a little, yell at him in front of his subordinates, it might calm them all down. Then they could… start over, perhaps. Castiel could explain himself, in full.

"You gave us order, Castiel," Hannah told him. "And we gave you our trust. Don't lose it over one man."

Castiel stared between Hannah and Dean, wavering.

Hannah removed her angel blade and held it out to Castiel. "This is justice."

Oh fuck, Brooke thought. They did not want Dean roughed up, boxed between the ears. They did not want him humiliated. They wanted him dead. They wanted Castiel to prove, once and for all, that he would choose angels over humans.

Castiel slowly reached out and took the blade.

Cass… Brooke said, quietly. No. I know Dean's a douchebag, you can't kill him.

Sam's eyes widened in fear, and Dean… Dean, for the first time in a long time, looked terrified. He stared at Castiel across an abyss of angels and orders, and the effects of the Mark of Cain seemed to slip away. His eyes begged the angel not to do it.

For just one moment, Castiel contemplated it. For just one moment, he believed that his mission to get his family home, back to Heaven, was more important than anything. And then that moment ended, and that righteous indignation fell away and he was left exhausted and defeated. "No," he murmured, lowering the blade. "I can't."

Hannah stared at him for a moment, her face grim with anger and disappointment. "Goodbye, Castiel," she said, and walked away.

And all the other angels followed after her.

And, just like that, Castiel had lost his army. Lost whatever family he saw in these angels. Lost his position as Commander. And what did he have left? The Winchesters, who treated him as a friend when they needed something from him? Who otherwise ignored him, or, in Dean's case, ground him into the dirt, so often?

You have me, Brooke said, quietly. Castiel squeezed her hand until it hurt, but she did not pull away.

Yes, he said. I have you.

###

It was a long drive back to the bunker, and Brooke wanted, desperately, to sleep. But she could not. Every time she began to doze off, a general sense of unease kept her mind from being able to shut down. She sat beside Castiel in the back of the Impala, her head on his shoulder, the muscles in her face tired from the constant grimace that she couldn't seem to get rid of. Guilty thoughts passed through her mind at a near-constant rate:

You did this to him. You're the one who insisted that he could be more than he thought he was. You're the one who convinced him to gather all those angels to him, to become their leader. And look what happened? His heart's been broken again.

Brooke began to wonder if, perhaps, she should have fought harder months ago, to keep Castiel human, to convince him to run away with her—far away, where no one could reach them. They might have been happy. They could have assumed different identities. And, just maybe, they could have had a child. But even as she thought it, she knew that it would never have worked. Some other problem would have come along to destroy their happiness.

And now, on top of it all, with the other angels gone, Brooke had nothing to distract her from the fact that Castiel would eventually die, with another angel's Grace wreaking havoc on his insides. She glanced down at her wedding ring, that glint of gold against the dark interior of the Impala, and covered her mouth with one hand, trying to stop the tide of tears before they began. She did not want to break down in front of Sam and Dean—especially not Dean.

Castiel had been listening to her thoughts the entire time, but had said nothing, to give her the illusion of privacy. But now, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close to him. She hid her face against his chest and tried to cry quietly. Silently, only to her, he murmured in his mind little phrases in Enochian, like a parent comforting a small child, waking out of a nightmare. But this was a nightmare she could not wake from. They had not defeated Metatron; Castiel had lost his army, and what small amount of self-love he had begun to garner for himself; and now he was going to die if they could not fix the foreign Grace tearing at his insides.

At some point, Castiel gently sat her upright again and took his trench coat off. Pulling her back to his chest, he draped his coat over her back like a blanket. She hid between his body and the coat, feeling cocooned and safe, despite her tears, and eventually, the warmth flowing from his body, trapped by the coat, lulled her to sleep.

###

Brooke sat, numbly, in a chair next to Castiel, back at the bunker. After crying herself to sleep in the car, she had woken, cotton-mouthed and itchy-eyed, and stumbled after her husband, only half-awake.

"So, batteries," Dean said, and his voice sounded so loud that Brooke jolted in her chair. He sat down across from them.

"I'm fine," Castiel said, quietly, and Brooke realized that Dean was talking about his failing Grace, the Grace stolen from another angel.

"No, you're not," Dean replied. "How long you got?"

Castiel shook his head, squeezing Brooke's hand under the table. "Long enough to destroy Metatron, I hope." He sighed. "But, without an army…"

"Well, hey, you still got us." Dean smiled at the angel.

Brooke was far too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to pick a fight with Dean right then about how wrong he was. All of them knew that the Mark of Cain was fucking with his head, and he was a loose cannon, unable to be trusted, until they, somehow, removed it.

Castiel leaned forward slowly. "Dean… Those bombers… You don't really think that I—

"Cass, you just gave up an entire army for one guy. No, there's no way that you blew those people away."

Brooke could not muster the energy it took to be angry at Dean, but she hated how relieved Castiel felt at Dean's words. Hated how comforted he was by them. Cass was back in Dean's good graces, and somehow, to the angel, that made everything all right again. Even though he had lost his army. Even though he was dying. He had gone and crawled back to Dean Winchester's feet, as if he had done something wrong, and Dean had deigned to forgive him for the thing he hadn't done. And he felt, once again, like a kicked puppy that had just been shown affection by its abusive master.

Brooke closed her eyes, and decided right then, that she hated Dean Winchester.

Castiel flinched in his chair, and stared at her, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Brooke… he said, and he sounded heartbroken.

Before she could respond, some alert went off in her head: Angel. She shot up out of her chair, her exhaustion forgotten, and looked toward the stairs leading up the entrance of the bunker.

"Guys!" Sam yelled, from the doorway leading down into the sleeping quarters.

Brooke, Castiel, and Dean moved quickly to the main room.

Gadreel stood there, his hands up in a surrendering fashion. "I'm not here to fight," he said, as the four of them closed in around him. "I thought about what you said." He was speaking to Castiel. "You're right. Metatron, he's… Something needs to be done."

"And we should trust you why?" Sam demanded, from behind him. Sam, perhaps out of all of them, had the least reason to trust Gadreel, having been possessed by him.

"Because I can give him to you. I know where Metatron is. I know everything." Gadreel looked past Dean, up at Castiel, even glancing at Brooke for a moment. "I know the bombers. They… They were his agents, not yours."

Castiel looked away from Gadreel, his gaze focused on the back of Dean's head.

Oh, that's right, Brooke snapped. Be a good little lapdog and wait for your master to make your decisions for you.

Castiel did not reply to the jab, but his mind shied away from her.

"You don't trust me, fine," Gadreel said, seeing that the leader in the room seemed to be Dean. "I understand. I've… made mistakes." He sighed. "But haven't you? Haven't we all?" He looked around at all of them, and none of them reacted to him. "At least give me a chance!"

Dean turned his head slightly, to glance at Sam, then stepped forward, offering Gadreel his hand to shake.

But something in Brooke's gut told her something was wrong.

Gadreel reached for Dean's hand and grasped it…

Dean suddenly pulled the First Blade out from somewhere and slashed it at the angel's chest, hitting his mark. Gadreel cried out in pain and fell backwards into a column.

Brooke, Castiel, and Sam rushed forward to restrain Dean, who was about to launch himself at the angel again. He seemed shocked by their efforts to stop him, and immediately squirmed his way out of Sam and Cass' grasp on his arms.

"Drop the Blade, Dean!" Sam yelled, standing in the way of Gadreel so that his brother could not get at him.

"Sam! Move!" Dean yelled, bloodlust in his eyes.

"Dean, look at me!" Sam yelled back.

Castiel tackled Dean, grabbing him around his chest, pinning his arms to sides. Sam launched forward and wrestled the Blade from his brother's hand.

Meanwhile, Brooke ran over to Gadreel, to see the extent of his wound. The gash on his chest was deeper than Brooke had originally thought, and it was long. He was bleeding profusely, and, unfortunately, the First Blade was able to pierce his true form, as well, which meant that his Grace was leaking from him, along with the blood of his vessel. Brooke knew that she did not have the power to save him; she was not an angel. She also knew that he had been a dick to all of them for months, and that he had possessed Sam, and worked for Metatron, yet… She felt some kind of strange camaraderie toward him. She placed a hand on his shoulder he groaned and clutched at his wound, and he glanced down at her through the pain, and gave her a small nod.

Behind them, Sam and Castiel were dragging Dean off somewhere, kicking and screaming. Brooke turned to look over her shoulder, and then looked at Gadreel again.

"Go," he panted. "There is nothing you can do for me, but I thank you for your concern."

She nodded, and took off after Sam and Cass.

###

They locked Dean away in the dungeon. Brooke did not step into the space to talk to him, for she had absolutely nothing to say to him, but she stood with her arms folded over her chest and listened while Sam and Cass tried to talk to him. All he did was insult them, until they finally gave up and walked out, locking the doors behind them.

She felt dead on her feet, but made her way back up to the main level of the bunker. Sam and Castiel spoke to one another, but she hardly listened, too upset and too tired to care about whatever they were talking about. She wandered away from them, expecting to see Gadreel where she had left him, but instead… there was only blood, and it led out of the bunker.

"Guys!" she called.

…

They found him not far from the bunker. He had taken a car, but had not been able to drive very far away before his wound caught up with him. He had stopped the car and crawled out, leaving blood on the ground in his wake. Castiel found him lying in the grass, and bent down over him.

"Please," Gadreel begged, scooting away from them in terror. "I'll leave you alone. I swear."

"We're not here to hurt you," Castiel told him, and reached out with two fingers to heal his wound.

"No," Gadreel said, putting a hand out to stop him. "Your Grace. Healing me will only weaken you."

Castiel ignored the warning, pressing his fingers against Gadreel's forehead.

Brooke watched as the long gash in the angel's stomach and chest closed. She felt the immediate drain inside Castiel. Though not connected to him via Grace, she had begun to monitor his energy levels closely since that emotional car ride back to the bunker earlier. He slumped halfway over in the grass, panting heavily as he tried to regain his strength. Brooke put a hand on his shoulder.

"Did you hear him?" Gadreel asked.

"Metatron?" Castiel said. "Yes."

On the car ride to find Gadreel, Castiel had picked up Metatron's voice on angel radio, proclaiming that he was leaving for a while, but that he would come back and explain everything when he did.

"Where is he going?" Castiel asked Gadreel. "What does he want?"

Gadreel looked away from Castiel, sighing. "I'm afraid… humanity."

###

They brought Gadreel back to the bunker with them, wherein they discovered that Dean had escaped with the First Blade, presumably with Crowley's help, since the bunker smelled like sulfur. At that point, Brooke was absolutely done with everything and went off on her own to bed. She had not slept properly since… she did not remember when, and she didn't think she could handle anymore shit that day. Having a normal life for even four or five months, with Castiel when he was human, had affected her more than she'd thought. It had affected her ability to turn off her feelings and be a Hunter on a job whenever the need arose. She felt exceedingly normal, and normal people had a hard time dealing with this level of stress.

She dropped like a stone into her bed and was asleep in seconds.