A/N: Sorry! Normally I tell you guys ahead of time that the next chapter will be the next, but I didn't realize I'd gotten to the end lol. Anyway, this is the last chapter of "Held"! The fourth book will be named "Lost," and I will post the first chapter of it shortly after I post this, so go ahead and look for it in my author page! Thanks for reading this far, if you've gotten to the end! Love you guys.

Thirty-four

She awoke groggily, feeling Castiel's weight on the mattress as he sat down. She stared up at him, knowing by the look on his face that he did not come with good news.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly, brushing a strand of hair out her eyes.

How long did I sleep? she asked, still too asleep to properly form words.

"About two hours," he replied. "I wanted to let you sleep longer, but…"

Suppressing a groan of frustration, Brooke sat up and swung her legs off of the bed. "Where are we going?" she asked.

He sighed, heavily. "Brooke… I'm afraid I'm going somewhere that… you cannot follow."

"Heaven?" she guessed.

"Yes." He took her hands in his. "It's not that I worry for you—although, I do. But you know that a living human cannot go to Heaven without dying."

She closed her eyes for a moment, nodding. "Fine. Then take me with you as far as the gate."

"The entrance will be guarded," Castiel began—

"Take me with you as far as the gate," she repeated, through gritted teeth.

"All right." He brought his forehead down to hers.

"No," she said, her voice rough. "I've had a shit couple of days. I'm tired. I'm pissed off at everything… Enough of this gentle crap." She pulled back from him far enough to look him in the eye. "Kiss me."

They had not had sex in weeks—months—or been all that intimate, for that matter, since Castiel had built up his army. Brooke's sleep quarters were in his office, but that was all she did in them: sleep. As Commander, Castiel had not had much free time, and even Brooke would found it awkward to fuck him in his office, having to draw the blinds and demand that every stay out for an allotted period of time. It would have made it all too obvious. Not that Brooke was shy about showing her affection for her husband—neither of them were when it came to that—but fucking each other in his office, surrounded by all of his subordinates was a little too voyeuristic even for them.

With all that in their minds, Castiel gazed down at Brooke with a particular gleam in his eye, and kissed her roughly, burying his fingers into her hair, burying his tongue in her mouth. Brooke inhaled sharply, as if breathing him in, tangling her own fingers into his hair. She began to pull at his coat, trying to push it off his shoulders.

There's no time, he growled.

You're an angel, she reminded him, successfully getting the coat halfway off of him. You're telling me you can't cum fast?

This is important. I need to—

Brooke pulled away from him. "You might die," she said. "In Heaven, or… whenever this Grace burns out. We don't know how long that'll take." Her breath caught in her throat as she thought of him dead, but she shook the thought from her mind.

The fire went out of his eyes for a moment, and he gazed down at her sadly.

"We've been sad, already," she snapped. "Just… fuck me."

Those two words seemed to reignite the fire inside him, and he inclined his head. "Quickly," he growled.

Brooke got up off the bed and went to her door, making sure it was firmly closed, and locked. She turned around and gasped, for he had followed her, and pressed his body against hers, so that her back was flush with the door. Undressing was a frenzied affair. Each piece of clothing was removed in between desperate kisses until their clothes pooled around them on the floor.

Castiel, who had pulled a condom from his coat pocket, quickly put it on.

Brooke's eyes went wide as what he wanted flashed through her mind. Here? she asked.

Here, he replied, and bent his knees to hook his arms under her legs to pull her up off the ground.

Automatically, she wrapped both legs around his waist, her back pressed against the door, as he entered her. She cried out at the feel of him, and as he set a breakneck pace, the door behind her rattled loudly with each thrust. She cried out again, but he muffled her with hot, wet kisses so that she moaned into his mouth, instead.

Somewhere, vaguely, in the logical part of her brain, she said, Can you hold me up like this for long?

I'm an angel, he said. Of course I can.

Two minutes later, still halfway shuddering, post-orgasm, they pulled their clothes back on without seeing them and stumbled into the hallway, messy-haired and red-faced. Gadreel was sitting at a table, his fingers drumming on its surface, his mouth pressed into one fist. He glanced up at the two of them like an angry father and muttered, "Your buttons."

Castiel glanced down at his shirt, and a small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He reached down and redid his shirt buttons, which he had misaligned in his haste.

Brooke snorted, trying not to laugh, and then drew her face into a serious expression and stood beside her husband as though nothing had happened, even as her hair frizzed out around her head and she could feel the beginnings of small bruises forming at her neck from Castiel's mouth on her.

"Are you two quite ready?" Gadreel asked, standing up.

Cass cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders. "Yes," he said.

###

"The door to Heaven is in a playground?" Castiel asked, turning to look at Gadreel. Indeed, they had pulled up to a park, and, apparently, the door was inside the sandbox in the playground area.

"Guarded by two of Metatron's most loyal," Gadreel replied. "I recruited them myself."

Brooke squinted past the front seats to look at the mother and daughter nearby. Through their human vessels, she could see the true forms of the angels possessing them.

"So, you said you had a plan," Gadreel piped up. "How we might convince them to let us pass."

Brooke leaned forward through the gap in the front seats to gaze at her husband. He was smiling in a secretive sort of way, his mind tingling with amusement. He turned to Gadreel with that same smile and held up a pair of handcuffs, and said, "Wookiee."

Brooke burst out laughing and sat back in her seat. She, of course, knew exactly what he meant, but Gadreel was confused.

"Brother, I have no idea what that means."

Castiel turned to him. "It's a reference to a very popular film that…" He realized, then, that he would never be able to explain it to Gadreel in the time that they had, or that the angel would appreciate it even if he did explain it. "Never mind." He leaned forward in his seat and turned to look at Brooke, behind him. "Like I said on the drive here, I don't know what will happen from here. They might let us in, or not. They might kill us, or attempt to. We could get in and be trapped there." He sighed. "There are too many unknowns. Stay here for as long as you can. If we're not back by nightfall, call Sam and tell him what happened."

Brooke nodded silently, then stood, bent over, in the car and kissed her husband. Afterwards, he held his wrists out to be handcuffed and then waited as Gadreel got out out of the car to open his door. Better to have him handcuffed before he left the car, in case the angels noticed them early. Meanwhile, Brooke got down onto the floor in the back seat and laid there, rather uncomfortably. Hopefully, no one would think to check the car, but even if they did, she would sense them coming. She held her angel blade in one hand, resting on her stomach.

Castiel and Gadreel were out of the car and walking toward the angels, and toward the portal to Heaven. Using her mental connection to Castiel, she heard the exchange of words. The guards seemed to have bought the ruse and were letting them pass. Gadreel and Castiel stepped up into the sandbox… and vanished.

###

They did not return by nightfall, but when Brooke tried to call Sam, she got no answer. No one came to check the car, and by this point, Brooke was starving and had to pee. She was also worried for Castiel, but there was nothing she could do about that. The two angels standing guard by the door to Heaven were still there, which was a problem. Now that it was nighttime, driving the car away would be very obvious, since the headlights would show up immediately, unless she didn't use them. But if she didn't use them she wouldn't be able to see where the hell she was going until she was far enough away from the park.

Sighing, she sat up and crawled carefully out of the car, deciding that her best bet was to leave it there. She would go away from the park, pee, eat, and try to call Sam again. Just as she was beginning to crawl along the ground, not entirely sure on the angels' line of sight, there was a flash of light to her side. The door to Heaven was opening again. Castiel stepped out of it, and the guards let him be.

Sighing with relief, she stood up and waited beside the car, still a little tense in case the guards were just waiting for some signal to beat the crap out of her husband. When he was halfway between them and the car, and they still had not made a move against him, she ran the rest of the way to him. He pulled her into a hug.

What happened? she asked.

Metatron is imprisoned. I managed to trick him into implicating himself to all the angels, through angel radio. Gadreel… sacrificed himself, to save me. To prove that we were innocent—that we only wanted to stop Metatron…

Brooke sighed, resting her forehead against his chest. Yes, Gadreel had been their enemy for a long time, but he had redeemed himself just long enough to die, and that was… It was awful.

"Did you call Sam when I did not return?" Castiel asked her, petting her hair as she took a moment to compose herself.

"He never answered me," she replied. She took her phone from her pocket and handed it to him. "You try him again. I have to pee or I'm gonna burst." She glanced around for a moment and then ran off to pee in the bushes, something she'd done on numerous occasions. Being a Hunter meant sometimes you were stuck in the middle of nowhere for hours, or days, so you did what you had to.

As she emerged from the bushes, she felt a sudden, inescapable, horrifying painful stab of anguish lance her brain. It came from Castiel, and it nearly knocked her off her feet. She had not felt such a strong emotion from him in a long, long time. Fear gripping her heart, she came to him, panting, and holding her head. "W-What?" she got out, through gritted teeth.

He stared at her in the dark, though he didn't seem to see her. And from his mind, for he was unable to speak, came one word. A name. Dean.

Brooke stared back at her husband, coaxing the rest of the information from him, afraid that she already knew what he was going to tell her.

Dean is dead.

###

It was the longest drive back to the bunker. Brooke drove because she knew that Castiel was in no condition to pay attention to what he was doing. He sat in the passenger seat, his mind strangely blank and fuzzy. Brooke assumed he had to be in a state of emotional shock. She expected, at any point, for him to fall apart, but he was deathly silent. He hardly blinked, hardly breathed, only stared out the windshield, unmoving.

An hour and a half into the drive, Castiel murmured, "You're hungry."

Brooke nearly crashed the car at the sound of his voice. She was so on edge, and it had previously been so quiet, that she was unprepared for him to speak at all. Composing herself, she said, "It's fine. We're almost back."

"We should stop now, if you want to eat," he said, his voice emotionless, robotic. "Sam will be a wreck, and… there probably won't be another chance for you to eat for a while."

Brooke sighed quietly and nodded, though her husband was still staring out the windshield and probably did not see. She turned off the freeway and found some fast-food place with a twenty-four-hour drive-thru, and parked in the parking lot to eat. She could not taste the food, her worry for her husband's emotional wellbeing overpowering everything else; she did not even feel hungry anymore, yet she forced herself to eat.

Castiel, as ever, sat in the passenger seat, staring out the windshield.

Brooke finished her food quickly, crumpling up wrappers and napkins and throwing them into the paper bag. She tossed the bag into the back seat to be discarded later and drank half a bottle of water. "How are you feeling?" she asked. It was a stupid, useless question, but it scratched at the surface of what she really meant: How far are you from a complete breakdown?

He turned his head to stare at her with fathomless eyes, and did not speak. She could feel his mind stirring, attempting to find the words—any words—but he failed every attempt, and finally stopped trying. His eyes dropped from her face and he turned away, staring into his lap.

Quietly, she started the car and drove the rest of the way to the bunker.

###

They descended the stairs to the down into the bunker with heavy hearts. For the first time since being told that Dean had died, Castiel's mind was beginning fracture, as if the closer he came to the Hunter's dead body, the less he could hold himself together. Brooke held his hand as they wandered silently deeper into the bunker, neither one of them wishing to call out to Sam and break the silence, which seemed to hold a sacred quality to it.

But someone was running toward them from the sleeping quarters. "Guys!" Sam called out, still running. There was a note of panic in his voice.

"Sam!" Brooke replied, meeting him halfway as he came sliding to a stop at the doorway. "What's wrong?" she asked. What's wrong now?

"Dean is… he's… he's not here," Sam said, tripping over his words.

Castiel rushed forward. "What?"

"His body… It's missing. He—He left a… a note." With quivering fingers, he held out the note to Brooke.

She took it and opened it slowly, and Castiel came to stand over her shoulder to read it: Sammy, let me go.

"He's… alive?" Castiel asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Sam nodded slowly. "I… I think so. Someone couldn't have just snuck in and stolen his body, right? He… He must be alive."

Castiel swayed on his feet beside Brooke, and then said, his voice cracking, "That's good. It's…" He swayed a little more, and Brooke grasped his arm, unsure if he was about to pass out, or what. Without seeming to notice her, he walked past them both, into the hallway where their rooms were.

Concerned, Brooke handed the note back to Sam and followed after her husband.

Castiel went into their room, and Brooke went in after him and closed the door, watching him. He sat down on the bed, slowly, staring at the wall in front of him.

And then he broke, his face screwing up with tears, his shoulders wracked with sobs.

Brooke hurried to him, sitting down beside him on the bed. She reached out with her mind, alarmed that he would be so upset if Dean was really alive.

I know you hate him, Castiel said to her, silently, as he continued to cry. I know that sometimes he's awful. I know he doesn't treat me the way he should. I tried to stop loving him, for you.

I never asked you to stop loving him, Brooke said, quickly. I told you to love who you love.

I know. But I tried, anyways. But I… I can't. I love him. He sobbed harder, gasping for breath, and said aloud, "I love him."

Brooke knew, then, that he was crying for what he had almost lost. And she knew that feeling well, that awful, sickening feeling of being terrified for the person she loved, terrified of losing him, of what her life would be like without her husband. Even losing Meg, whom she had not known for very long, had destroyed some part of her, and she had never gained that part of herself back; it had died when Meg had.

"Cass," she said, pulling him to her.

He fell against her chest, his face resting against her breasts like a small child.

She held him, and rocked him, and said, "Castiel, I never had a problem with you being in love with Dean. It's not about jealously. I just… wish he would treat you better. I treat you like a God, and he treats you, sometimes, like the dirt under his shoes. Somewhere in between, there's a happy medium, and I wish he would find it."

"I know," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I know I shouldn't let him treat me as he does… I know."

She held him to her for a long time, without speaking. Finally, she said, "You should tell him."

"I can't," Castiel whispered. "He doesn't… I don't think he…" Loves me back.

"You won't know unless you talk to him about it," Brooke murmured. "It's not easy, like it was with me. You don't know everything he's thinking and feeling."

"No," he said, his voice quavering. "I can't… I can't. Because if he… if he doesn't…" He could not finish that thought, and continued on without saying it. "It would never be the same again. I could not go on, being his friend. I would have to leave, to go far away… and you'd be dragged along with me. I would rather be his friend and never let him know any different than to tell him, and lose him forever."

Brooke closed her eyes, nodding, and ran her fingers through his hair.

They stayed this way for a while, and then Castiel lifted himself up. He took his wife's face in his trembling hands and stared into her eyes. "I love you," he said, and began to cry all over again. "I love you, too. I loved you first. I…"

Brooke's heart broke for him and she placed a finger over his lips. "I know you love me. I know. And I loved you even when I loved Meg, too. We've talked about this. You don't have to prove your love to me. I know it, I feel it every day, every minute, every second."

He took a shuddering breath and pressed his forehead against hers, still holding her face. "What do we do now?"

She sat for a moment, feeling the warmth from Castiel's body so close to her, feeling his breath whisper across her skin. Then she said, "We go look for Dean."

END.