Two

"… Well, angels ain't known for their veracity," Bobby said, his voice floating down the hall towards Brooke and Cass as they stepped into the room.

Castiel glanced at Brooke, his eyes twinkling, and made a show of looking offended in Bobby's direction.

"No offense," he said, quickly, as he turned around and saw them standing there.

Castiel smiled, dropping his offended face. "None taken. I tend to agree with you."

Brooke smirked.

A week had passed since their incident with the demon, Kipling, and his underlings. It had taken less time than that for Castiel's face to heal, and for Brooke's, as well. Afterwards, he had sped up the healing process of her hand, and she'd been walking around without the brace for the last few days. She tested it again as she stood there, flexing her fingers, gently pushing on the bones with the thumb of her left hand. It was still a little sore, but the bones were no longer broken.

Castiel came near to her and took her right hand in both of his, closing his eyes. Warmth seeped into her hand, as if she'd dipped it into a tub of warm water, and she smiled at the feeling. When he released her hand, it was no longer sore. "There," he said. "It's completely healed, now."

"Thanks," she replied, and kissed him.

"… So, I've been searching through the police reports in Duluth," Sam was saying, and Brooke pricked up her ears. "Cops just turned up a pile of corpses that was dumped near some train tracks just north of town, and their eyes were burnt out."

"So, Michael?" Castiel asked, his body rigid.

Sam closed the laptop and stood up. "We should go. Now. This isn't just Michael we're talking about."

Bobby nodded. "It's Dean."

Brooke glanced at him, feeling some kind of way about him every time she did. Like butterflies in her stomach—not that she had a crush on the old man. It was just that, it still seemed to her as if she were looking at the ghost of her father. Sam and Dean—well, just Sam, now—had handled his presence much better, even since the beginning. But Brooke still felt strange every time he was near. She longed to talk to him, but he did not know her, not the way her Bobby had.

Sam glanced at Cass and Brooke. "Guys, you know why you can't come with us, right?"

Castiel pursed his lips, nodding, though he didn't like it. "My angelic presence would be sensed by Michael, thereby nullifying your hopes of a sneak attack."

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Sorry."

"And," Castiel continued, "you need me to stay here and babysit Nick and Jack."

"It's not babysitting, Cass," Sam tried.

Brooke smirked. "Yeah, it is."

"Only in the sense that they're not infants," Castiel said, raising his eyebrows at Sam, "but they both have to be supervised."

Brooke gestured to Cass, like, See?

"Jack is… lost without his Grace, and Nick is…" Castiel scoffed. "I mean… He's just a mess."

Sam sighed. "Well, i-it's not his fault."

Castiel narrowed his eyes, surprised at Sam.

"Cass, Nick was housing," Sam explained. "He deserves a shot at rebuilding his life—

"And yet, every time I look at him, all I can see is the supreme agent of evil."

Brooke sighed, rubbing her face. She could see both sides, here, and hadn't figured out whose side she was on. Still… "That's not fair to Nick," she muttered. "I know we look at him and see Lucifer, but… Lucifer isn't here anymore—

"You talkin' about my dad again?" said a voice.

They looked up to see Jack standing in the room.

"My—my other dad," he clarified, smiling awkwardly at Castiel.

No one spoke.

"Look, I understand," Jack went on. "Being around Nick—it's hard for me, too."

"Uh, Jack," Mary spoke up, "we're gonna need you to sit this mission out. Not a permanent thing."

Jack seemed unsurprised, nodding. "I know the last time, I sucked when it mattered, and I need to improve. So…" He nodded, swallowing. "That's what I'm gonna do."

Oh, jeez, Brooke thought, wanting nothing more than to insist that he was wrong, but knowing that he did not want to listen to her—or to anyone—right now. She rubbed her face some more.

Castiel reached down and held her hand.

###

Some time after Sam, Mary, and Bobby left, Castiel and Brooke wandered into the kitchen to make food for Nick. Brooke let her husband handle the sandwich-making, since he was surprisingly adept at making delicious food, despite being unable to eat. That was, perhaps, the cruelest thing for him about being an angel: that food was disgusting.

She glanced over at him as he slathered mayonnaise onto a piece of bread. "Not puttin' poison in that sandwich, are ya?" she joked.

"That's not funny," he said, layering meat and cheese and lettuce and tomato onto the bread.

"No, you're right," she muttered. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize to me," he replied, and stopped what he was doing long enough to kiss her.

She smiled up at him and went to pour Nick a glass of water.

…

"We brought you some nourishment," Castiel told Nick as he stepped into dungeon where they were keeping him for observation. "Now that he's uh, gone… y-you must remember to eat.

"Right," Nick said, rubbing his face. "Thanks."

Brooke studied his face, worriedly. He looked about ready to burst into tears, massaging his temples, his eyes squeezed shut. She wanted to say something, like, Are you all right? But that would be such a stupid thing to ask him. He clearly wasn't all right. He'd been Lucifer's vessel for… years.

Nick looked up and noticed her looking at him. She gave him what she hoped was a sympathetic smile, and he gave her his best smile back, though it looked more like a pained grimace. Then he glanced at Cass, who was fiddling unnecessarily with the tray of food, his back turned. "I'm not him, Castiel," Nick said.

Castiel lifted his head, knowing he'd been caught. He sighed, gave a tight-lipped smile to the wall, and said, "I know."

"But you still can't look at me."

Castiel's mind spun as he tried to think of the right words. Were there any right words in this situation? "It's difficult," he said, staring at the ceiling. "You don't remember all the things that you did in his thrall, but I do."

"I know." Nick sighed. "I just don't—I don't… get it. I don't understand why I would do something like that. I don't… I don't get how I would let Lucifer possess me." His voice cracked with every word, his hands clasped as he stared at the floor.

Brooke wanted to touch him, his shoulder—something, but even she could hardly look at him. Instead she went to her husband's side and held his hand, feeling unsure of herself.

Castiel seemed to draw strength from her, and turned to face Lucifer, taking his wife's other hand as he did. "You were in a lot of pain," he said to Nick. "And Lucifer saw vulnerability, and he… he exploited it."

"Is that what you tell yourself so you can be near me?" Nick asked.

Castiel nodded. "I guess so," he murmured.

Nick rubbed his nose. "I just don't know what kind of pain would make me allow Lucifer to possess me."

Castiel knew, and opened his mouth.

Are we really gonna tell him that? Brooke asked, silently. It seems… cruel.

Not telling him would be crueler, Castiel replied. Maybe this way, if he knows the truth, he can… move past it.

Brooke sighed. Be gentle.

Castiel nodded, and spoke aloud. "It was your family," he said.

Nick turned and looked at him. "My family?"

Castiel said nothing, giving him a moment.

Nick sat up straighter in the bed. "Sarah and Teddy?" he said.

Castiel nodded, his own eyes shining with tears, though none fell. What had happened to Nick's family… It was difficult for anyone to think about.

"No," Nick whispered, and then seemed to go into a fit. He cried, held his face in his hands, gasping and shaking.

Brooke took a step toward him, empathy making her want to comfort him, even as looking at him turned her stomach.

Castiel held her in place. Let him work through it, he said.

"Oh, my God," Nick whimpered, suddenly. "Who could do that? Who could do that?" He gasped again, breathing heavily.

"A man…" Castiel began, calmly, though under the surface he was almost as broken up as Nick. "A man broke into your house… and you weren't there."

"That was no man," Nick said, shaking his head. "That's not a man. That's a monster. That's a monster, and then—and then Lucifer found me and made me a monster, too. Oh, my God…" He held his face again. And then he broke down into sobs.

Brooke's heart broke for him, and she was torn between holding him like a small child and running from the room. She chose to run from the room, Castiel following her.

Brooke, he called, as she hurried out of the dungeon. He caught up to her and held her, petting her hair as she tried to catch her breath, her face pressed to his chest. It's all right—

"It's not all right," she snapped.

"No," he said. "You're right. It's not. But… he'll get through it."

"He might not," she argued. "Not everyone is as resilient as us. You know, some people only have a normal tolerance for trauma."

"We'll help him," Castiel insisted. "At least he's not alone in this."

Brooke took a deep breath, resting her forehead against his chest. "I just keep thinking… that could have been me."

He shook his head. "You would never have let Lucifer possess you, Brooke."

"How do you know? What if he'd rescued me instead? You remember how I was, Cass. I was overwhelmed by you. You were… the most powerful, most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life, and the moment I saw you, I wanted to die, and I wanted you to touch me, and not to touch me, and I wanted to lose myself in you." She took another breath, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. "If you'd been another angel… any other angel… who's to say I wouldn't have had the same response? Even… Even with Lucifer?"

Castiel held his wife's face in his hands and stared down at her. "You thought I was beautiful. Lucifer's true form is terrifying. You've seen it—

"Your true form is terrifying," she countered, smiling up at him, though there was no joy in it. "I thought that if you touched me, I might die, remember? I'm just… I'm just saying… We can't blame Nick for being tricked by Lucifer. Because if Lucifer had come to me instead, I'm not sure I would have had the will to say no. I'm just…" She took a shaky breath, smiling at him for real this time and cradling his face in her hands. "I'm just feeling really lucky, right now, that I got you."

Castiel stared at her like he might cry, and then kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there for a long moment.

###

After pulling themselves together, the two of them wandered back into the main room, expecting to be fairly bored for a while. But Jack was sitting at a table when they came in, reading one of the heavy tomes from the library. Underneath his current book was another book, also open, and there were three more unopened books surrounding him on the table.

Castiel slowly approached him, turning his head slightly to read the titles. "Looks like about… two centuries of biblical lore," he said, and Jack looked up. "Light reading."

Jack looked back down at his book. "I'm researching how long it takes for Archangel Grace to replenish."

Brooke pursed her lips, coming up beside her husband.

Castiel opened one of the books, casually skimming the content inside. "Well, Archangels being exceedingly rare, the data on that is woefully scant."

"The books say it can take from a month to…"

"A century," Castiel finished. "Yeah."

Jack stared up at him helplessly.

"Complicating factor being your… human component, which slows the process."

Not helping, Brooke warned, as she watched Jack stare down at his book, his face crumpled.

Right, Castiel thought. Um… His eyes slid to the ceiling as he, once again, tried to think of the right words to say. First to Nick, and now to his adopted son.

I can take a crack at him first, if you want, Brooke offered.

No, I think I… have an idea, Castiel replied, as he sat down on the edge of the table. "Jack, um…" he began, gathering himself, feeling a little shy as he did so. "Mourning what you've lost… It's wasteful."

Jack looked up at him.

"Might be smarter to focus on what you still have."

"You don't understand what I'm going through," Jack argued.

Ah, Brooke thought, with a smile. The old… 'My parents don't understand me' argument.

Castiel nodded to Jack, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, I do—a little. At the time of the Great Fall, when the angels were banished from Heaven, I lost what I thought was everything. I had no Grace, I had no… wings. I felt hopeless and useless."

When did we start calling the Fall the Great Fall? Brooke wondered.

"What did you have left?" Jack asked.

Castiel smiled and turned to her and pulled her down onto his lap, holding her so that her back was pressed to his chest. "I had Brooke, for one," he said. "I… I don't know what I would have done without her."

Brooke smiled.

"And I had Sam and Dean," Castiel continued. "But I had something else that was extremely helpful. I had myself. Just… the basic me, as, uh, as Dean would say, without all the bells and whistles." He smiled, looking away. "You know, Sam and Dean, they weren't born with their expertise, and neither was Brooke." He squeezed her around the middle. "They've all been at it since they were children. Failing, winning, developing over the years. Patience, persistence—those are skills, too."

Jack nodded slowly.

"The past, where you came from, that's important. But it is not as important as the future, and where you're going."

The boy said nothing, but his face belied whatever deep thoughts he had going on in his head right then, going over what Castiel had just told him.

Do you, um… have anything to add? Castiel asked Brooke.

Not really, she said. Whatever I would've told him wouldn't be as good as what you just told him.

I doubt that, he replied. You've given me lots of little words of wisdom over the years.

I know. But I don't wanna ruin the effect of the father-son moment. I had him for weeks when you were… you know… dead. I got to impart a lot of wisdom to him then. Now, I feel like it's your turn.

Castiel smiled, standing up and setting Brooke on her feet. All right.

###

"That doesn't make any sense, Sam," Castiel said, some time later, as he spoke to the younger Winchester on the phone. "I've never heard of an interaction between an Archangel and a vampire—certainly not in this universe. And… why would Michael be killing them?"

Brooke, who had been standing nearby with her arms folded across her chest, looked up as the hallway door opened. Nick came out, holding a laptop in his arms, which he slammed down onto the table nearby.

Castiel quickly hung up from his conversation with Sam and glanced at his wife, who shared the same concerned look. He meandered closer to the man, asking, "Nick, are you, uh…"

"Nothing," Nick snapped, before the angel could finish his question.

"Nothing what?" Brooke asked.

"There's nothing. There's no information. There's no mention of my wife and son past the year they were…" He took a breath. "When they died. There's—there's nothing about the case being solved. Nothing!"

Castiel, who was still on uneven ground when it came to Lucifer's former vessel, said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't—I didn't know that," with the least amount of emotion in his voice that Brooke had ever heard.

Be nice, she chided.

"If I were around, I would have been on those cops every single day, Castiel," Nick continued, his voice raw. "But I was out of my head with grief. I said yes to Lucifer. I was a coward, and now—

Castiel, trying his best to be compassionate, reached out to lay a hand on Nick's shoulder—

"Don't," Nick said, standing up straight and snapping his fingers… Something Lucifer would have done, to disintegrate those that annoyed him.

Whatever empathy Brooke had felt for Nick previously dried up in an instant. Her body went cold, and then hot, and she surged forward, snatching up Castiel's wrist in her hand and yanking him behind her, something he had done to her many times in the past. She was breathing quickly, the sensation of her husband dying, and leaving her mind empty, replaying over and over again her head. The shaking had already started, the grip on Castiel's wrist so tight that she couldn't feel her fingers.

"Brooke," Castiel murmured, as Lucifer—Nick—stared down at her with a confused expression on his face.

She did not move.

"Brooke," he said again, quietly, and turned her so that she was no longer looking at that—that monster.

She stared up into her husband's face, those eyes so blue, and then hid her face against his chest, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth of him against her. He was here, and he was real, and he was alive.

"Stay," Castiel commanded, and he must have been speaking to Nick because Brooke had no intention of leaving him. He repeated her name again, fingers running through her hair, a familiar, calming sensation. In his mind, he spoke to her, a mix of English and Enochian—soothing words to bring her back from that dark place in her mind which she had tried her hardest to lock away and forget.

After a minute, maybe two, Brooke felt like herself again, remembering where she was. She looked up into Castiel's eyes again and he brought his forehead down to hers, breathing.

I'm right here, he told her. Alive and well.

She breathed with him, then nodded and stepped back, remembering that Nick was standing behind her.

Castiel studied her for a moment, to be sure that she was really all right, and then he turned to Nick. "Why did you do that?" he asked. There was no accusation in his tone—it was merely curious.

Nick stared at him for a second, then glanced around, confused. "Do what?"

"What went through your head just now?"

Nick now looked very confused. "Um, I dunno," he said. "Nothing? What are you… trying to get at?"

Castiel began to slowly, slowly reach out for Nick, aware, now, that the man had a problem with being touched. "Even though he's departed, there may be… some of his influence still within you," he explained, still reaching his hand out at a snail's pace. "Just…"

Nick watched Castiel's hand come closer, and shuffled his feet nervously, but did not react violently this time. Brooke, standing about a foot from her husband, went rigid as the two men made contact, expecting some outburst, but nothing happened.

Castiel closed his eyes, searching Nick's mind, his soul. Brooke sensed it as strange, unintelligible whispering and static, though through that, she could feel… pain, fear… He pulled his hand away. "Lucifer may have inflicted more damage on your psyche than we suspected."

"I don't have time for this," Nick replied, as if he hadn't heard what Castiel had said. He picked up the laptop and walked away. "I'm not letting this go, Castiel. I'm gonna find out who killed my family—

"Nick!" Castiel called.

The man turned and looked at him.

"And then what?"

Nick did not answer. He simply went out the door.

Castiel immediately turned to Brooke, laying his hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Brooke said, "now. I just… reacted."

"Mm," he murmured. "The same way Nick just… reacted."

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory of Castiel's death that night, the same night Jack had been born.

Castiel sighed and took her in his arms, continuing his low murmur in a mix of English and Enochian.

…

"Detective, my wife and son were murdered in Pike Creek, Delaware," Nick said into the phone, some time later, as he wandered about the bunker, desperately trying to find out more information about his family's murder. "You're a police lieutenant in Pike Creek, Delaware. If you can't help me, who can? Hello?"

Brooke looked up, then, from where she was reading over Castiel's shoulder as he sat on the edge of a table with a book in his lap. He'd been reading to her, silently, in his head, for the past forty minutes. It was something he did because he knew that it calmed her, just to hear the constant lull of his voice.

Nick lowered the cellphone from his ear. "You gotta be kid…" He sighed, holding his head, and dropped the phone unceremoniously onto the table.

Castiel closed the book and studied Nick from across the room, saying nothing. Things had been… tense for the last forty minutes.

"You know what a cold case is, guys?" Nick asked, not looking at them.

"Uhh," said Castiel, about to give an actual answer—

"It's a case too unimportant for anybody to care about," Nick said. "My wife and son are dead—gone forever. My life is gone with them, and uh… and nobody cares. These cops don't care." He paced back and forth, his hands on his hips.

"Well, I'm sorry," Castiel tried, a little warily. "That sounds… very difficult."

Brooke said nothing, her hand gripping Castiel's arm automatically.

"Difficult?" Nick repeated, and scoffed. "Yeah, you know what's difficult? There's no evidence. There's no fingerprints. There's no DNA. I mean, how does that even happen?" His voice was slowly raising. "I mean, there was a witness who came forward and said they saw someone coming out of the house, and then they said they didn't see anything at all, and the case died. Like everything else."

Castiel rolled his eyes and set the book down on the table.

Cass… Brooke thought, in something of fearful tone.

It's all right, Castiel told her. He's not Lucifer. He can't hurt me.

Still, Brooke kept her grip on his arm.

"Nick," Castiel began. "You've been given… a second chance. You're not dead."

"You don't understand," Nick said, waving his words away.

"No, I do," Castiel replied, nodding, a mix of different emotions churning in his gut.

"Oh, because your body was stolen?" Nick asked, in a challenging tone.

"Because I am occupying someone else's," Castiel said. "All angels have to in order to walk the Earth."

Brooke turned away. She hated to admit that she had not thought of Jimmy in a long time. That body had become Castiel's many, many years ago.

"This," Castiel said, pressing his hands flat against his own chest. He shrugged. "This was Jimmy Novak."

Nick nodded, looking away. "Occupy." He looked back at the angel. "Sounds like a cleaned-up way of saying steal. And, um, Jimmy—is that his name? He all right with that?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, he was."

"Was?"

Castiel inhaled, his chest tightening as he recalled everything to do with Jimmy and his family—everything he had taken from them. Including Jimmy's life. "Jimmy's dead," he said.

Nick was still nodding, slowly. There was a moment's silence. Then he looked up. "Castiel…" He walked closer to the angel.

Brooke automatically, unable to stop herself, snatched up Castiel's wrist again, swallowing back the bile in her throat, staring at Nick with wide eyes.

"You're just a stone-cold body snatcher," Nick said. "You're no different than Lucifer."

Castiel's heart broke at Nick's words, because somewhere deep down, he believed them.

Brooke lunged for Nick, rage twisting her face into something ugly, but Castiel held her arms in a firm, unyielding, angelic grip. No one hurt her husband, or made him feel badly about himself, or said bad things about him. No one. She stared up into Nick's face, challenging him—to what, she did not know.

He returned her stare, but sadly. "And you…" He scoffed. "You really are a whore. Were you—were you having sex with you precious angel husband when Jimmy was still in there?"

"You shut your mouth," Castiel snarled, suddenly as angry as Brooke, and the rage in him rose the Grace in her body, boiling her blood.

Nick lifted his gaze from Brooke to stare at Castiel, and he was so calm and cold and… righteous in the face of Castiel's anger that the angel could not stay angry at him. He seemed to deflate, and he pulled Brooke away. "Come on," he muttered. "We should… go look in on Jack."

Somewhere between enraged and depressed, Brooke allowed herself to be pulled—gently—from the room.

But, right at the last moment, at the threshold of the hallway, Castiel turned back to face Nick again, his eyes shining with tears. "You know," he began, his voice wavering, "in all my thousands of years… what happened to Jimmy Novak… and his family… It's my greatest regret."

Nick stared at him, his own eyes watering, and then Castiel turned away again and led Brooke from the room, and the hand that was holding hers was trembling.

When Castiel had turned and closed the hallway door behind them, he sighed heavily and turned to Brooke, resting his forehead against hers and catching his breath.

You can cry if you want, Brooke said, touching his face.

Castiel shook his head, and then he laughed, though it sounded like it might have been a half-sob. He held her face in both of his hands and kissed her forehead, then her lips. And then he said, In all my thousands of years, what happened to Jimmy Novak and his family is my greatest regret… But in all my many years on Earth, since I first came down to stop the Apocalypse… I have never regretted you.

###

"Jack, what were you thinking taking that kind of a risk?" Castiel demanded of the Nephilim, two hours later, after a frantic phone call and a tense waiting game. Jack had gone to visit Kelly's parents without telling anyone where he was going, so they hadn't even known that he had left until they'd gone to his room and found it empty.

"No, it wasn't a risk!" Jack argued, still charging angrily down the hallway without stopping.

Brooke hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, yet. Honestly, though, the only part she was pissed about was that Jack hadn't told them where he was going first. If he wanted to visit his grandparents, she didn't mind. He had every right.

"But t-to go out there, alone?" Castiel said, his arms spread wide as he followed Jack down the bunker's hallways. "Jack, you have been on the radar of every angel and demon and power broker in creation since the day you were born, and I'm sorry, but you're not exactly yourself."

"Weak and defenseless, you mean," Jack snapped, finally turning to face his adopted father.

"I mean that the possibility of capture is real, yes," Castiel replied, in a low voice.

"What he means," Brooke finally spoke up, feeling the crackling tension in the air, "is that we would have been happy to go with you, if you had just told us where you were going. Right, Cass?" She looked at her husband, one eyebrow raised.

He said nothing.

Jack glanced at Brooke, but his focus was still on Castiel. "I heard what you were saying, Cass, about me finding out where I came from. Well, I never knew my mother. I thought the next best thing might be for me to meet the only real family that I have left."

"That is not…" Castiel began, and his voice had become a snarl, his face pushed up close to Jack's.

"Hey, whoa!" Brooke yelled, very loudly, and yanked Castiel away from the boy. "Okay, let's everybody calm the fuck down please."

Castiel took a deep breath, and so did Jack, though their eyes lingered on the floor.

"Okay, Jack," Brooke said, feeling like some kind of referee. "Do you love Castiel as a father, or some kind of father-figure?"

"Of course I do," Jack said, with conviction.

"Okay, good. So." She turned to her husband. "Can you chill out and stop feeling so threatened every time Jack wants to learn more about his blood family? It doesn't mean he doesn't see you as a father. Please grow up."

Castiel stared at Brooke with his mouth slightly open, and she felt his mind searching hers, almost tentatively, wondering what on Earth had brought this on.

"Is—Is that what you thought?" Jack asked, quietly.

Castiel looked past Brooke towards the boy, swallowing.

"You and Brooke, a-and Sam and Dean… you're all my family," the boy said. "Can't I have two families?"

Castiel took another deep breath, closing his eyes. He opened them again a moment later and said, "Of course you can. I'm sorry."

"Me too," Jack murmured.

Brooke rolled her eyes. "There. Communication."

There was a rather awkward silence for a few seconds as father and son thought about how easily their fight could have been solved if they'd only used their words. Brooke just wished that she could convince Sam and Dean to also use their words…

"Did it help?" Castiel asked.

"What?" Jack said.

"Meeting your… meeting Kelly's parents?"

Jack nodded.

"And you didn't tell them who you were, did you?" Castiel asked, a fatherly sort of tone creeping into his voice.

"Of course not," Jack said, sounding offended that Cass would think he was so stupid. He sat down. "I wanted to. I wanted to tell them I was their grandson. They thought I actually kind of looked like her." He smiled.

Castiel smiled, too, shrugging, and nodded. You do.

"I…" The smile fell from Jack's face. "I couldn't tell that she died. They just… love her so much."

Castiel and Brooke remained silent.

"I know I should have…"

Castiel sighed. "What you did, you did… from a place of kindness." Finally, he turned and sat down, too, and Brooke sat beside him, staying quiet. "I suppose there are worse ways to be human than to be kind."

Jack was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "Have you heard from Sam? Did they find Michael?"

"Yeah, they think so."

"So, they're gonna try and kill him?"

"Uh… no," Castiel said. "No, the—the plan is to subdue him using angel cuffs and spell work. They have to get Michael out of Dean."

"And if he doesn't leave?" Jack demanded, staring at Castiel.

Brooke squinted at the boy, worried.

"Then they'll try to drive him out," Castiel said, also looking strangely at Jack.

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Jack—

"Cass, Michael has to be stopped."

"I know, and he will be, after Dean is—

"No, Dean doesn't matter," Jack said.

"Excuse me?" Brooke snapped, and then felt extremely confused at herself for being so personally upset that someone had just said that Dean didn't matter. Perhaps she cared more for the Winchester than she knew, or perhaps she was simply eager to protect her husband's feelings.

"You're all so focused on trying to save Dean. And I get it, I understand, but if he can't be saved, if it comes down to him or Michael… Michael has to be stopped. Caged or killed—

"And if that means that Dean dies, too?" Castiel yelled, suddenly, as his heart pounded in his chest.

"Then Dean dies," Jack said, standing up. "I know this Michael. I've seen what he's done to an entire world, and so have you. If stopping that from happening here means that Dean has to die, then…" He stared down at the angel who had taken him as his son, his eyes fierce.

"Where is this coming from?" Brooke whispered, shocked at her boy, her precious boy, who had been naïve and soft not so very long ago.

"Do you think he'd want it any other way?" Jack asked, still staring at Castiel. And then he walked away.

Brooke put her face in her hands, then scrubbed at her hair. "What the fuck…" she muttered. What just happened?

He's right, Castiel said, quietly.

"Shut up, Cass. We're getting Dean back. Alive. Fuck."

Slowly, Castiel put an arm around her and drew her against his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "Thank you," he murmured.