Six

Brooke had only blacked out for a few seconds. When she'd come to in Castiel's arms, he'd suggested numbing her emotions, since right now wasn't the best time to be passing out. They needed to find a way to save Jack, and Brooke wasn't going to be helpful to anyone if she was passed out.

But Brooke had vehemently refused. She did not want her emotions surrounding the boy to become dulled, even if it made her better at researching some way to save his life. She did not want to lose the love for her child, even for a few hours. Castiel had understood, and had conceded.

She, Castiel, Sam, and Rowena had then spent the next few hours poring through the lore, and contacting every Hunter they knew, searching for a way to save Jack. But, it seemed that there was… nothing.

"Dean," Castiel said.

Brooke looked up.

Dean had gone in to talk to Jack some time ago, and in her frantic search to save her son, she'd forgotten about the older Winchester. He came into the room looking defeated.

"The bunker's vault has a number of Enochian texts on Archangels, but nothing on their half-human offspring," Castiel said, catching Dean up.

"And I've spoken to some of the greatest minds in witchcraft, and they all say there's nothing that'll help Jack," Rowena added.

"Well, then, they're not the greatest minds, are they?" Dean asked, smirking.

Rowena made a face.

"Well, I just got off the phone with Ketch," Sam spoke up. "He's got a line on a shaman."

"A shaman?" Dean repeated, sounding skeptical. Brooke didn't know why he would be skeptical about a shaman in this line of work.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "The British Men of Letters used to use him as a consultant. Whenever they needed to solve the unsolvable, he was their guy. He's an expert in mysticism, esoteric divinity. I mean, Ketch says the Brits swore by him."

"Ketch says," Castiel repeated, his hands pressed together at his mouth, like he was praying.

Brooke's head snapped to look at him. "At this point, I'll take anything," she said. "From Ketch or anyone else."

His eyes lifted to stare up at her, and he murmured, "Yes, of course."

"His name is Sergei," Sam went on. "I-I got a location, and Ketch says he'll set up a meeting."

Castiel sighed and stood up from his chair. "Okay, I'll go," he said to Sam. "You and Dean need to stay here with, uh…" He stopped speaking.

Jack had just entered the room… wearing a backpack.

"Jack, hey…" Sam said.

Brooke stepped toward the boy. "What are you doing?" she asked, slowly.

"We're… We're headed out," he replied.

"You're…" Castiel began, confused. And then he squared his shoulders, staring at Dean. "Where?"

"We're takin' Baby for some exercise," Dean said.

"You think that's a good idea?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced away for a moment, biting the inside of his lip, then stared at his brother. "Yeah." He turned to Jack. "Come on."

Jack smiled at them all as Dean turned and left. Then he, too, turned.

Brooke very quickly went up to him and pulled him into a hug.

"Brooke," Jack said, in a very annoyed-teenage-boy kind of way, dragging out her name as if she were embarrassing him.

"You've never shied away from a hug before," she said, and held him tighter.

He sighed and returned the hug for a moment, then gently extricated himself from her embrace.

She watched him go, realizing how much she had changed in the past year. How much Dean had changed, enough so that she felt safe letting her son go with him alone somewhere. She smiled, even as she felt tears in her eyes. Then she shook her head and turned to face the others. "Right. So… Sergei?"

###

"If this Sergei has anything even remotely useful to offer, we'll call," Castiel told Sam, right before he and Brooke left.

"Yo, guys, wait," Sam said, from where he was sitting at the library table. "Are you two… okay?"

Brooke turned and stared at Sam with an Are you stupid? look on her face. "Of course we're not okay," she said.

"I—I mean… I could go with you," Sam offered.

"No," Castiel said. "Thank you, but… We need you to stay here and keep… looking into the lore, or calling anyone else you can think of."

Sam looked away, nodding.

Castiel hesitated, glanced at Brooke, his thoughts on Dean.

You don't need my permission to talk about Dean, she reminded him, touching his arm.

"Dean seems to be taking this particularly hard," Castiel said, aloud, looking at Sam.

Sam sighed, nodding. "Yeah… Yeah. Yeah, he, uh… was pretty rough on Jack at the beginning, and… I don't think he's forgotten. And I know he hasn't forgiven himself."

Castiel stood silently and listened. He had not been around to witness Dean's abuse towards Jack, but he'd gained those memories from Brooke when he'd come back to life. That abuse, in fact, had been part of what had made him realize that Dean was no longer the man he loved.

"You know, he's lost people," Sam went on. "We've all lost people, but, um…"

"This feels different," Castiel finished for him.

Sam only stared up at him with tears in his eyes.

"Losing, um…" The angel swallowed, stared at the ceiling. "A son… feels different."

And there it was: Jack was not just Cass and Brooke's. He was not just Kelly's. He was also Sam and Dean's. He was a son to all of them. And they were all taking his diagnosis badly.

They left Sam sitting at the table, still with tears in his eyes.

###

On the way to meet Sergei, Brooke leaned her head back against the headrest of the passenger seat and said, "Remember when we met and all we had to worry about was the Apocalypse and the fact that our relationship was forbidden?"

Castiel smiled mirthlessly. "That seems like it was… thousands of years ago, now."

"For you, too?" she asked, thinking that, as an angel, Castiel's sense of time was far different from hers.

"For me, too," he confirmed.

They lapsed into silence for a time, and then Brooke said, "I never thought we'd actually… have a child."

"No," he agreed, quietly.

"We can't lose him, Cass," she whispered.

"We won't lose him."

###

They got out of the car upon reaching the address that Ketch had provided. Before them sat an old and graffiti'd RV. Actually, it looked like an Airstream, all aluminum on the outside. At one point in time, it had probably been shiny, like all Airstreams, but now it was old and covered in spray paint and the shine had gone out of it.

"Sergei?" Castiel called, as he closed the driver-side door.

There was no answer.

He and Brooke glanced at each other as she came around the car to stand beside him.

"Sergei?" he called again, louder this time, and took a few steps toward the Airstream.

Flame shot up around both of them, blocking them in. They were surrounded by holy fire.

"Goddamn it," Brooke muttered, clutching her husband's hand.

Are you all right? he asked.

Fine, she said. Just pissed.

A man came out of the trailer, then, with a shotgun in his hands. He cocked it, aiming it at Castiel.

"The angel Castiel," he said, in a thick accent. "His wife, of course," he added, glancing at Brooke. "And who else?" His eyes roamed the wooded area behind them, as if expecting someone to come popping out of a bush.

"Do you see anyone else?" Castiel asked, annoyed. In a louder voice, he said, "Is the holy fire really necessary?"

Sergei shrugged. "Self-preservation makes many things necessary."

Don't be too hard on him, Brooke thought, less pissed than she'd been a few seconds before. He called me your wife, and not your Whore. So, that's something.

Castiel sighed, staring at Sergei as the flames slowly burned themselves out.

…

"Please, sit," Sergei said later, when they were all standing in his trailer. He gestured behind Castiel and Brooke to where a few chairs and a couch were arranged in the back.

Brooke sat down on the couch. Castiel awkwardly attempted to sit down in the leather chair but there was a cushion on top of it that slid down off of the seat as he sat down on it. He slid slowly to the floor.

Brooke did her level best not to laugh but only half-succeeded.

Not a word, he warned her, and she could feel his embarrassment.

Come sit on the couch with me like a normal person, she said, trying to stop smiling.

Glancing at her, his lips pursed, he came shuffling over and sat down beside her on the couch.

You're such a dork, she said, as Sergei came over with the tea tray.

"As for my curriculum vitae," Sergei said, as if they'd been talking the whole time, "I'm passionately peripatetic. No roots. I've recrossed the globe many, many times over. Studying and observing the skills of myriad witches, and seers, holy men, et cetera."

Castiel glanced at Brooke, then looked around the trailer as if searching for the answer to a riddle on the ceiling. "And what is it exactly you do?" he asked, his eyes finally landing on the man.

"Answer the unanswerable," Sergei replied, offering Castiel tea. "Know the unknowable."

The angel held up his hand in decline and Sergei offered Brooke his cup, instead.

Hesitating for a moment, Brooke took the cup.

Castiel immediately snatched it from her hands, sniffing its contents. He dipped a finger into it and then into his mouth, tasting it.

"You think I would poison your wife?" Sergei demanded, looking offended, but in a theatrical, over-the-top sort of way.

"It's safe," Castiel said to Brooke, ignoring Sergei's question.

"I am first and foremost a healer," the man went on. "I poison no one."

Castiel sighed. "And you know Ketch," he said.

"We've never met face-to-face, but our reputations are mutually stellar."

Castiel scoffed, smiling. "I wouldn't call Ketch stellar."

Sergei laughed. "Then you have met him."

There was a small pause, in which the three of them smiled at one another, and Sergei and Brooke sipped their tea. It tasted of something similar to chai—spiced and strong.

"But—back to this Nephilim you've been fostering," Sergei said.

"Jack," Brooke and Castiel said at the same time.

"His name is Jack," Castiel repeated.

Sergei nodded slowly. "Well, Jack is in a pretty pickle. If what you're telling me is right, his condition is dire."

Brooke and Castiel looked at each other, and Castiel reached down and took Brooke's hand in both of his, as if he were suddenly interested in studying it. He sat there for a moment, rubbing one of his thumbs on the back of her hand, and then he glanced at Sergei and asked, quietly, "Do you think it's reversible?"

"Not as such, but… it can be shocked out of its progression by a recharging agent."

Brooke stared at Sergei as he got up out of his seat.

"Think of it like you're rebooting a computer," the man said.

"And where would one find such a thing?" Castiel asked.

Sergei smiled, gesturing to himself. "First and foremost, a healer." He turned and bent down, opening a cabinet. "And…" He turned, a small box in his hands, and opened it for them to see. Inside was a vial, full of a glowing, blue-white substance.

"Grace," Brooke said, standing up as Castiel did so.

"Archangel Grace," he corrected her.

"Vintage," Sergei said. "From Gabriel. In trade for my home-brewed cloaking spell. He used it to hide away in Monte Carlo." He smirked.

"With porn stars, yes, I know the story," Castiel said.

Brooke snorted in amusement at the urge Castiel had had to bring up the porn stars.

Sergei placed the vial of Archangel Grace back in the velvet-cushioned box. "But this alone won't do the trick," he said, handing the box to Castiel. He walked away, speaking over his shoulder. "It must be administered along with the precise recitation of a spell." He came back with another box, this one bigger.

Castiel was excited. Overjoyed. He'd save Jack. And yet… He looked up at Sergei. "And what is all this going to cost?" he asked. People always wanted something. It was never this easy.

"Don't insult me," Sergei said, quietly. "I never take money. My skills are exclusively for barter."

Castiel studied the man. "Then what is it that you want?"

Sergei shrugged, smiling. "Dunno."

Castiel lowered his head slightly, in warning.

Sergei dropped the smile. "But…" He handed the larger box to the angel. "Tell the Winchesters they owe me."

###

"This Sergei was legit," Dean said, hours later, after Brooke and Castiel were back home at the bunker.

Castiel sighed. "I mean, he was definitely odd, but he seemed honest."

"So we're still not certain this is gonna work?" Sam asked, staring at Jack, who was siting in a chair as Rowena stood beside him, prepared to work the spell.

Castiel became frustrated by that question. "No, we're not certain, but…"

"Shut up, Sam," Brooke said, though there was no bite to her tone. She was too nervous about Jack. She squeezed Castiel's hand, her heart pounding.

"Gentlemen," Rowena said, getting their attention. "And lady," she added, smiling a little at Brooke. Then she glanced down at Jack. "Are you ready?"

Jack hesitated, looking at her, and then glancing up at Dean. Finally, he said, "Yes."

Rowena smiled at him, then motioned for Sam.

Sam came forward, holding the vial of Gabriel's Grace. "All right. Here you go."

Jack took it from him, unscrewed the lid, and slowly inhaled it.

Rowena spoke the spell.

Brooke watched as it happened—as Jack's True Form returned to him, lit him up from the inside-out. She smiled before anyone else did because she was the only one who could see him. There was her boy, beautiful and expansive. Her heart swelled to see him like this again.

Castiel smiled, too, because he could hear his wife's thoughts, and knew that Jack was safe.

"Something," Jack said, standing up. He smiled.

"Something good," Castiel said.

"Yeah," Jack replied, and laughed. "Definite improvement."

Dean lightly whacked Castiel's arm with the back of his hand, and then rubbed his face in sheer relief. Sam smiled.

"That's great," Sam said.

"Yeah," Jack replied, smiling at Rowena, who was giggling.

And then Brooke saw the change inside Jack, his True Form twisting and writhing inside his body. He stumbled. The light inside him flickered.

"Jack?" Dean asked. Then he stared at Rowena, yelling, "Did you say the words right?"

"I did!" she said, desperately.

Jack coughed. Brooke saw his light flicker again, and then go out, his True Formed dimmed inside him, now twisted and deformed.

Brooke stepped forward quickly as he stumbled and passed out. He collapsed against her.

"Say them again!" Sam yelled, as he helped Brooke get the boy into bed.

###

"Of course we followed the instructions," Castiel said as he stomped out of Jack's room to call Sergei. "And Rowena performed the spell exactly as written, but he is worse. He's much worse. You need to come at once."

Brooke had elected to stay with the boy, but she could still hear Castiel, through their mental bond.

"I am a shaman," Sergei replied, on the phone. "I realign the harmonics of the universe. I don't make house calls."

"Jack isn't just another sick kid. This is the son of Archangel of the Lord, who is much more ill now because of your harmonics."

"And?" Sergei asked, as if none of this mattered in the slightest. "Science is sometimes trial and error. Victory through experimentation."

Brooke could feel her husband's anger, now. It began in his core and spread outward through his body, then through the floor and the air, until it reached her, back in Jack's room and filled her body like fire.

"This was an experiment?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You never said that."

Sergei chuckled.

"If Jack dies, I… will… find you."

Sergei chuckled again. "You can try," he said, and hung up.

###

"What can we do for him?" Brooke asked, desperately, staring at Rowena as she came up to see them, having finished her examination of the boy.

"Watch over him," the witch replied, smiling at her a little. "Stay by his side… as he dies."

Brooke tried to take a breath, but found herself unable to do so. She turned to stare at Jack, laying on the bed, and felt as if someone had just slammed a fist into her gut.