Twenty-nine

Getting up and going took several minutes. Sam went to check on Chuck, while Dean got up and glanced at Brooke/Castiel. They, too, rose from the floor, and, once again, their eyes were drawn to Castiel's previous vessel. It was empty now that Amara had sent Lucifer off somewhere. They walked up to it, slowly, crouching down near the body. On a whim, Brooke reached out a hand and touched the face that had been her husband's face for so long. The cheek was cool to the touch already, and that lack of warmth put her on edge. It was like staring at a dead Castiel, even though she knew her husband was safely tucked away inside her own body.

Dean came up to them and stood over them as they stared at the empty vessel. He said nothing, but there was an oppressiveness to his presence that they could understand without the need for words.

Together, as one, Brooke and Castiel they took a deep breath.

What if Lucifer comes back again? Brooke asked.

He didn't do much in the fight against Amara, Castiel replied. None of us did. It doesn't matter if he comes back again. He can't have this vessel anymore.

Brooke nodded, tears coming, unbidden. She knew, then, what her husband was about to do.

I'm sorry, he said, gently.

She shook her head. I understand. We can't… Well… We both knew this would never last. She sat back, fully, onto the floor, crossing her legs, and waited.

Castiel flowed out of her body, a deep sense of sorrow overwhelming them both as he returned to his original vessel. Brooke sat, afterwards, watching his blue eyes open and stare into her. She felt cold and empty and exhausted at his parting, as if her body had been a towel, wrung out and left to dry in the wind. It took everything in her just to keep her eyelids from closing on their own, as if, without him, she had no energy left. As if he had taken much more than just himself back into his body.

He reached out with his hands—those long, delicate fingers—and cupped her face, bringing his forehead close to touch hers. But even this intimate act could not bring him as close as he had once been. They helped each other up off the floor as Sam spoke quietly to Chuck. Dean had gone over, as well, but Brooke and Castiel, for now, stayed apart from them, gaining their balance back, remembering what it was like to have separate bodies. Castiel bent down and kissed her, gently, and she felt the warm breath from his nose tickling her face.

They pulled apart as Crowley came back into the warehouse, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Well," he called out, "that was a complete and utter dog's breakfast, wasn't it?"

"I didn't know dogs had breakfast," Castiel replied, looking confused.

Brooke closed her eyes and smiled, her head bowed. She snorted, unable to keep all of her laughter in, and slipped her hand into his.

Everyone was staring at Castiel and Brooke, realizing that they were, once again, in separate bodies.

"Cass is back," Dean said.

"I was always here," Cass said, looking at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Just curious," Rowena spoke up, suddenly. "Has anyone bothered to look outside?"

So, out they went, Sam supporting Chuck, who could not walk on his own. It was the light. The light had a red or orange tint, reminding Brooke of what sunlight looked like when an area had been blighted with forest fires. It always turned the light this ominous red-orange color. But this was not from any fire. It was the sun, itself, that was casting that glow. The sun was dying.

Brooke gazed at Chuck, who was hanging off of Sam completely, as if his legs had simply stopped working. The sun was dying because God was dying. And once God died… so would everyone else.

"Why would Amara do that?" Sam asked, and Brooke couldn't help but be a little annoyed by his tone of voice, as if he couldn't believe that a bad guy (woman) would do a bad thing.

"The sun is the source of all life on Earth," Castiel murmured. "Without it, everything just… just wastes away."

"Let's get the hell outta here," Dean muttered, and before he'd even finished speaking, Chuck had snapped his fingers and teleported all of them back to the bunker.

Crowley stared around and then pointed at God. "You."

"Still got a few tricks up my sleeve," Chuck replied, sliding off of Sam. "I'm not dead ye—

But he promptly fell backwards, into Sam's chest, before he could even finish his sentence. Sam helped him into a chair to sit down.

"Okay," said Castiel, glancing back at God, but aiming the question at Dean, "what do we do now?"

Dean walked away, and they followed him slowly into the kitchen, where they found him chugging a beer. "Really?" Sam demanded.

"Really," said Dean.

"What?"

Dean stared at them all—Sam, Castiel, and Brooke. "We hit Amara with everything we got, and she walked it off. So—

"So, it's last call?"

"That's right." Dean took another gulp of beer. "Look man," he said, at Sam's face, and crossed arms, "if you've got something for me to punch, shoot, or kill, let me know and I'll do it. I'll do it 'til I die. But how are we supposed to fix the fuckin' sun?"

No one had an answer for that, even Sam, who seemed insistent that they come up with some kind of Plan B.

While Sam pouted in the kitchen, Brooke went to the fridge to see if there was anything at all to eat in the bunker. Since Castiel had left her, she had been slowly realizing how hungry she was. She found bread, but there was mold growing on it. She rolled her eyes and tossed it in the trash, then went through the cupboards, looking for non-perishables. "Score," she muttered as she pulled out a jar of peanut butter and a spoon.

"You know what," Dean muttered, after chugging several more beers as Brooke stood beside Castiel, eating her peanut butter. "This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run." He sighed, and then smiled. "No reason to die sober, huh?" He glanced at Sam. "You wanna?"

"No!" Sam snapped, still trying to think of a new plan.

"Okay," Dean said, unbothered. "You two?" he pointed at Brooke and Castiel.

"You know what," Brooke said, gripping Castiel on the shoulder, but looking at Dean. "Why don't you and the angel have some… guy time, or whatever. You go. I'll stay here and make sure Sam's head doesn't implode." She glanced at Cass. "Long as you're cool with that?"

He inclined his head, giving her a small, gentle smile. And those were the moments she loved, the ones he gave no one but her—and Dean, though Dean never seemed to notice those tiny smiles.

Dean and Cass went up out of the kitchen and Brooke watched them head down the hallway, carrying her jar of peanut butter and her spoon. "Hey, bring back real food!" she called to them as they made their way up the stairs and out of the bunker. She didn't know what had made her send Cass off without her. Perhaps she thought it would be good to have time separate from one another after spending the last several weeks inside the same body. Still, there was that tug in her body, mainly in her solar plexus, as Castiel walked out the door and she did not follow, as if they were attached by an invisible string that was growing tauter the farther he walked from her.

She ignored that feeling and turned to see Sam walking into the main room.

"Samatha!" Crowley called, holding up a bottle of alcohol, inviting him to drink.

"What are we doing?" Sam asked them, staring around at them all—Crowley, sitting along with his bottle; Chuck and Rowena, drinking tea.

"Nothing," Rowena replied.

"Exactly," Sam said. "Amara's out there eating the freakin' sun, and—and we're doing nothing."

"And you have a better idea?" Crowley asked.

"Yes. Anything! That's my better idea, because anything is better than this."

Brooke sucked on her spoon, already getting tired of the taste of peanut butter, and watched Sam slowly have a meltdown. She tried to think of something constructive to say, but her mind still seemed to be wrapped in fog from Castiel leaving her body.

"Sam, I get it," Chuck spoke up. Even if we could lock Amara away, it wouldn't do any good now. I'm dying. And when I'm gone, a cosmic balance between light and dark—it's over."

Sam stared at Chuck for a long moment, and then said, "All right. Then if we can't cage her, we have to kill her."

"Bingo," Crowley whispered, sipping his alcohol.

Brooke stared at the back of his head, curiously, but he did not elaborate.

###

"You didn't bring back any food?" Brooke complained when Dean and Castiel returned just ten minutes later.

Castiel went to her, his lips pursed sympathetically, and pressed two fingers to her forehead. Her hunger suddenly decreased.

"Thanks," she murmured.

Dean called me his… his brother, Castiel said, and his eyes shone with emotion. He said… that I was the best friend he and Sam have ever had.

Oh, Cass, Brooke said, and hugged him. She could feel that gentle, trembling emotion inside her husband that was making his stomach flip. He was like a child, in that moment, the new kid, with no friends, who had finally been accepted by the rest of the kids in his class.

Cass, Dean has thought that way about you for a long, long time. He's just never said it out loud. You had to know that.

I knew it, somewhere deep down, he confirmed, his chin resting on the top of her head. I just never let myself believe it. He fell silent for a moment, and then said, He also told me that he does consider you to be family, even if you and he don't always get along. Like… an annoying little sister, he said.

She laughed against his chest, the sound muffled by his coat. Yeah, I knew that, too.

Do you… He took a breath. Do you still hate him? Dean?

She took a breath, as well, slower than his had been, and focused on the feel of his shirt beneath her cheek. I don't know, she admitted. He was under the influence of the Mark for a long time, and sometimes I took things he did or said really personally, even though I knew that it wasn't him. And I'm sorry for that. But he's always been kind of a dick—even you know that.

I know it, Castiel murmured.

Still… You can't hang around a guy this long without either killing him or… accepting him for who he is, even if he kinda sucks sometimes. Brooke sighed. I don't hate him right now. Let's go with that.

###

The group tossed around idea after idea of how they would possibly be able to kill Amara, who seemed indestructible. In the end, Chuck revealed that her only weakness—maybe—was light, which made sense. If Amara was the Darkness, then… light was her opposite. And where to get so much light? Souls. Brooke didn't know how she felt about gathering souls to use as weapons against Amara, but the alternative was doing nothing and letting the world—the entire universe—end. So, she sucked up her gross feelings about it and went off with Castiel to Heaven to ask the angels to help gather souls, while Sam and Dean went to some closed down mental ward to collect the souls of all those who had died there.

Sam and Dean were successful. Castiel and Brooke were not. They wouldn't even let Cass into Heaven.

"The angels know God is dying," Castiel explained to the rest of the group once he and Brooke had made it back to the bunker. "And they don't think we can win this. Souls or no souls. They're sealing Heaven, and they're, quote, 'dying with dignity.'" Castiel rolled his eyes as he relayed that last part.

Dean threw up a hand in exasperation. "Well, that's awesome."

"All right, Crowley, what about you?" Sam asked.

"Well, I had all the souls we needed," Crowley began.

"What do you mean had?" Dean demanded.

"While I was indisposed, a few of my demonic pals decided to raid my stash."

Castiel sighed, his hands in his pockets. "Well, what we have—it's not enough."

Every single light in the bunker suddenly turned red. Brooke glanced up at them all, worriedly, slowly removing her angel blade from her coat pocket. Castiel did the same.

"Well, that could be nothing but good news," Crowley muttered.

Sam and Dean both cocked and aimed pistols up at the entrance to the bunker, waiting. Whoever was about to burst through that door was not a friend to any of them. But whoever it was, it was no one that Brooke recognized. Who the hell is that? she wondered.

"Billie?" Sam said, staring up at the woman. He and Dean slowly lowered their guns.

"Who's Billie?" Rowena asked, as Brooke and Castiel also stood down, though they did not put away their weapons.

"Reaper," Dean said. "Wants us dead. Tons of fun."

Billie slowly made her way down the stairs. "Hey," she said, casually, to Crowley as she passed him. The demon gave her a strange look.

"W-Wait a second," Sam said. "How did you… What are you doing here?"

"I saw you boys at Waverly Hills," Billie explained—the mental ward where Sam and Dean had captured all the souls of the ghosts. "Call me a curious kitten, but with, you know, credits about to roll, I got to ask—why you boys busting ghosts?"

"Why do you care?" Dean shot at her.

Billie stared at him with a look on her face like she was not one to be messed with—a self-confidence that rivaled even Brooke's. "Dead folks," she said, "kind of my thing. So… spill."

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then began to haltingly explain what they were up to: collecting enough souls to make a bomb so that they could kill Amara.

"Okay," said Billie, rather nonchalantly.

"Okay?" Sam repeated.

Apparently, Billie was here to help them. "Little tip," she said, with a smile. "You want souls… call a reaper."

Watching all those souls fill the Men of Letters' bunker and flow into the crystal Rowena had picked to house the bomb was… disturbing. She kept thinking that her own soul was about to burst from her chest and get sucked into the crystal itself, to be lost forever. It was an irrational thought, but it set her on edge, anyway. Castiel, sensing her discomfort, pulled a hand from his coat pocket and squeezed one of hers. Your soul is shielded, he told her.

She took her eyes off all the souls swirling around the room for a moment to look up at him. What?

There are layers of my Grace wrapped around your soul, to protect it from being damaged… or stolen.

She smiled a little as the souls in the room died down. Billie had stopped calling them forward. You really thought of everything, didn't you? Brooke asked her angel.

I tried to, he murmured. Aloud, he asked the reaper, "How many souls are in there?"

"A couple hundred," she said, "… thousand."

Sam's eyebrows shot up into his hair.

Billie shrugged. "I raided the veil. Like I said, dead folks—kind of my thing." She glanced at Rowena, who was coming forward to take the crystal from her. "We good?"

"Very," the witch said.

"Super," Billie replied, though she didn't sound like she cared much. The second the crystal was out of her hand, she began to walk away, toward the stairs that led up and out.

"See ya around," Dean called after her.

"Yeah," said Billie, turning to look at him. "You will. Just hope it's not today." Her eyes flicked to the demon in the room. "Crowley," she said, and then left.

O-kay, Brooke said silently, eyeing Castiel. Billie and Crowley definitely know each other… Somehow.

Yes, he agreed. I'm sure that connection will come back to bite us at some point—assuming we live through today. "So, what now?" he asked, aloud.

"Well, now we have the bomb," Sam replied. "So we just gotta find Amara."

"I can track her," Chuck spoke up. "She's not warded anymore." He sighed, standing up. "Why would she be? She won." Still unsteady on his feet, he leaned heavily against the pillar he'd been leaning against while sitting.

"Okay, so?" Dean asked, nodding.

"We need somebody to get close to her," Castiel said, slowly. "Someone with a… personal connection." He glanced up at Dean, a little awkwardly.

Dean looked around, slowly, noting that every pair of eyes in the room was staring at him. "Well," he said, seeming to give up. "What are we waitin' for?"

###

Finding out that the bomb was not, in fact, the rock, was the worst part of all of this. Dean would be the bomb. Brooke didn't know who was taking this all the hardest—Dean, Sam, or Castiel. She figured it had to be Sam or Castiel, though; the dead were dead, but the living were the ones who had to figure out how to keep going after their loved ones were gone, and that was so much worse than dying.

She stood beside Castiel as he watched the man he loved go to his mother's grave for the last time, a small sidetrack on the way to defeating Amara. Castiel's heart was breaking already, just staring at the back of Dean's head. Brooke did not speak, did not attempt to offer words of comfort, because there was nothing she could possibly say that would be good enough. She could not even imagine the pain of losing Castiel—did not even want to think about it.

"Dean," Castiel croaked as the older Winchester came back to the rest of the group, hundreds of thousands of souls swirling around inside his body.

Dean turned to his best friend, only to be pulled into a hug. "Okay, okay," Dean said, softly, patting the angel on the back. "All right."

Cass, you gotta tell him, Brooke said, quietly, turning away so that no one but her husband would know about the tears shining in her eyes. You gotta tell him that you love him. Because I know you do, even if you're mad at him for what he did to me. I know you still love him.

I… Dean had pulled away from the hug at this point, and Castiel stared the man in the eyes. I can't, he said to Brooke. I c—I can't…

All right, Brooke replied, feeling the fear and the increased heart rate in Castiel's chest. All right.

"Listen," Dean said to Castiel, "if—when—when this works, Sam… he's gonna be a mess. So, look out for him, okay? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Of course," Castiel sighed, understanding the underlying message that Dean was giving him—not to do anything stupid, himself.

"Brooke, you too," Dean said, turning to her. "You look out for Sam. He likes you. And… and you look out for Cass. He likes you, too." He winked.

Brooke smirked at the Winchester.

Dean gripped Cass' shoulder, hard. "Thank you for everything," he said, and then turned to address all of them.

###

Brooke sat beside Castiel at the bar, which was closed and empty, due to the impending end of the world. Crowley had had the honor of bursting open the doors. Castiel sat with his arms crossed over his chest, and Brooke could feel him sinking into himself, a fog of depression wafting through his mind. They'd chosen a booth so that they could sit beside each other. Brooke was on the inside, and stared out the window for a time, out at the dying sun. She glanced down at her wedding ring, rolling it a little with her thumb. She and Cass had hardly spoken since Dean had left them to go blow up Amara, and Brooke, even now, did not know what to say to him. She did not know how to bridge the gap slowly widening between them. If Dean won, and Amara was defeated, she would still have her husband. But her husband would not have Dean.

Brooke, Castiel thought.

She turned to him with sad eyes and he stared down at her with an equally depressing expression.

No matter what, no matter whether Earth is still here in an hour's time, no matter if Dean lives or dies, I love you. He reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb. I love you, he said again.

I know, she said. I love you too.

Just… He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Just give me time, if Dean… if he dies.

Of course. She shook her head, cupping his face in her hands. Listen. I was a wreck when Meg died, after I let myself feel anything. And I was wreck when Bobby died. And you were there, and you are the only reason I didn't just lay on the floor and give up and die. Okay? You don't need to be afraid to feel your feelings about Dean. Whatever you need from me, I will give it you.

He took another deep breath, this one much shakier than the last, and his eyes became watery.

She wrapped her arms around him in the booth and they sat there like that for a long time.

And then… Chuck vanished.

Everyone panicked a little, but there was nothing they could do. If Chuck had vanished, he had done it himself, hadn't he? He was God. What were they supposed to do about Chuck disappearing at a moment like this? He was going to die, anyways, so they all supposed it didn't make a difference where he died.

A few minutes later, the sun grew brighter in the sky. The natural order of the world had been restored. God had died, and so had Amara…

And so had Dean.

Standing outside, staring into the sun, Brooke felt Castiel's heart tear in two.

###

Sam did not want to stick around the bar afterwards. He only wanted to go back to the bunker, probably to hide away in his room for days. Weeks. Months. However long it took. Brooke could sense that this was all her husband wanted, as well. His outer shell was hard and seemed unbroken, but inside, he had shattered into a million pieces. "Sam, I'm so sorry," he murmured, as they all trudged tiredly down the stairs into the bunker. "If you want to talk…" He sighed. "Brooke and I are here if you need anything."

Brooke nodded, though Sam could not see it. She expected the next several days to be tearful and exhausting, many hours spent holding Castiel's head in her lap as he wept. She took a deep breath, prepared to hold him up, or hide him away inside the blankets of their bed—whatever he needed.

"Hello, hello," said an unfamiliar feminine voice.

Brooke had one second to look up into the face of whoever was standing there before she screamed in searing, horrendous pain… and was ripped away, out of the bunker, with Castiel, and found herself soaring at high speeds with him, hundreds of miles away. She did not understand what was happening—it had all happened too fast, and now she felt like her skin was melting off. She was screaming. She hadn't noticed it at first, but somewhere underneath the sound of the wind rushing in her ears, she could hear herself screaming. And she realized, with horror, that her skin really was melting. Somewhere, through the pain, she also realized that Castiel was with her, holding her tightly against him. He tried to speak to her, telepathically, but she was in too much pain, and too confused, to understand anything he was saying.

He tightened his hold on her as they went careening through the air. She felt her burned flesh rub off under his hold and screamed even more, but he would not release his grip. And as they landed, she slammed into him, his body underneath hers as they slid dozens of feet across the dirt.

By the time they stopped moving, Brooke was unconscious.

END.

A/N: Book 5 will be called "Found." Look for it soon after I've uploaded this chapter (though it takes up to 30 minutes for new stories to appear on-site). Thanks for reading up to this point!