Twenty-nine
Brooke stared open-mouthed at her husband, who stood before her in his previous attire, from a year before (lighter-colored coat, blue-and-white striped tie). But that wasn't the weirdest part. He was animated. Like a cartoon. She brought her own hands up to her face and tried to scream again, but all that came out was a strangled squeak. Her mind, however, was working overtime.
Cass, what the fuck? What the FUCK? We're—we're animated. WHY ARE WE ANIMATED? She stared at her hands some more. She was missing a finger on each hand, and her wedding ring looked like it was a simple texture painted onto her skin. She felt it, and knew that she was right. Her ring was not there. In its place, gold paint circled her finger. This time she did scream.
"Brooke, calm down," Castiel pleaded, and he reached out and grabbed one of her hands. "We'll figure this out, don't worry."
But this act of love, reaching out to touch her—something that normally would have calmed her—only freaked her out more. Castiel's skin felt strange, like rubber. She yanked her hand out of his, wiping it on her coat as if she'd just touched something gross.
"Cass, we need to get the fuck out of here," she hissed, glancing around as if the universe would come crashing down around her head.
"We can't," Castiel replied. "Sam and Dean are here. We need to get them out, too, which means we need to find them."
Brooke stared into her husband's face, hardly recognizing him, though, somehow, she could still see his True Form underneath the strange animated body. She clung to that part of him, a part of him she had not paid much attention to in recent years. His True Form looked normal—well, normal for any angel's True Form. As in, it wasn't animated. That made it look strange compared to the rest of the world they were in, but it looked familiar to her, and she stared at it, using it as a mental lifeline, lest she go completely insane.
"Cass, we're in a—a cartoon, right?" she said, the words spilling quickly from her mouth. "Can you—can you fly?"
Castiel blinked, realizing that she might be on to something. If they were in some Cartoon Land, then perhaps the normal rules did not apply. He unfurled his wings… and sighed in disappointment. They were still broken.
"Damn it," Brooke muttered, trying desperately to find a solution. "Cass, we need to find the boys and get out of here. This is wrong. This is all wrong." She began to breathe quickly—to quickly and too shallowly. She was hyperventilating. Nothing about her job as a Hunter could have ever prepared her for being sucked into a cartoon. Even being transported to that world without magic all those years ago had not been this bad. At least that world had been made of paint. "What if we can't get out?" she said, between breaths. "What if we're stuck here forever?"
"Brooke," Castiel said, and reached forward quickly before she could move away, pressing two gross, rubbery fingers to her forehead and forcing Calm into her mind. "Focus on me," he said, slowly, keeping his fingers against her forehead. "Focus on the sound of my voice. I will not let us get stuck here. I will find a way out." His voice echoed like chanting in her head, lulling her. "This is a temporary problem. We will not be here forever. I promise." He dropped his hand.
Brooke blinked up at him, smiling almost sleepily. "You're sexy when you take control like that," she said, only half-joking.
He bowed his head with a smile. "There's the Brooke I know and love," he murmured. "Now, let's go."
It was then that they heard the familiar roar of a particular engine. The Impala. They glanced at each other, and then turned and ran towards the noise, pushing past bushes and branches (that still felt all wrong to Brooke, like they were plastic props) until they came to a road. There was Baby, and just as they stepped toward it, relieved, it took off at top speed.
Castiel watched it go in despair, stepping closer to the road, his trench coat billowing around him unrealistically, as if he were Batman and the trench coat were his cape. He called out to Sam and Dean, though he knew they would not hear him; they were too far away already. He sighed heavily, knowing he and Brooke would have to track the car, possibly for some time.
Brooke came and stood beside him, her hair flying wildly behind her as if she were a superhero. She knelt down beside the road, and in the flashes of lightning that lit up the sky, she could see tire tracks, as if the Impala's wheels had spun many times on the road before gaining traction. Except that tire marks never stopped. They were clear the whole way down the road, as if they'd been painted on.
"Only in a cartoon," Brooke muttered, and she and Castiel followed the tire marks of the Impala…
###
The storm had not abated at all, and only seemed to get worse the closer to the giant, spooky castle/mansion they got. You're not causing any of this, are you? Brooke asked, as yet another clap of thunder crashed over their heads.
No, he said.
Shame, she replied, almost automatically, thinking back to a time in which storms around the angel meant sex was happening—or about to happen. A sudden, horrifying thought entered her brain, and she reached down and palmed Castiel in the crotch with zero warning. She could feel the blood leave her face as her fears were confirmed.
"Brooke, what—
"You don't have a penis," she whispered, though he could hear her just fine with his angel hearing.
Alarmed, Castiel reached down, himself, and pressed his hand between his legs. "I… I don't have a penis," he repeated, shocked. "Or—or testicles."
"Oh my God," Brooke said, feeling herself slip back into Panic Mode. "Oh my God, what if we're trapped here forever, junkless? Cass—
"Please stay calm," he begged. "I'm… I'm starting to feel just as panicked as you, but we need to just… we need to keep moving. We've almost reached Sam and Dean, and then we can get out of here."
Brooke nodded, breathing too quickly again, and reached for Castiel's hand, squeezing it even though the feeling of his hand freaked her out. Wide-eyed, she walked the rest of the way to the mansion.
They tried the front door, but it was locked, and ringing the doorbell had no affect.
Maybe they can't hear it over the sound of the storm, Brooke thought.
Right, Castiel agreed, and they moved off to the side of the property, looking for a window. As they approached a large set of windows, they noticed that these particular ones could be opened from the at the sides, almost like doors. And, in another flash of lightning, they could see people inside, staring out at them. Castiel leaned his arms on the glass, cupping his hands around his face to see inside, and saw Sam and Dean—cartoon versions of them.
Sighing with relief at having found the boys, Castiel pushed open one of the windows, and helped Brooke through and into the house before stepping in himself. They were both immediately attacked by someone coming in from the side, who shoved into them, hard, knocking them into one of the curtains at the side of the window.
Somehow—through cartoon logic—the two of them ended up tangled together, inside the curtain. They tried to right themselves and untangle their limbs, but they knocked into someone or something else, tripped, overcorrected, stumbled forward, and then fell over completely. Brooke landed heavily on top of her husband, knocking her head into some part of his head—his chin, maybe?
"Oww," she complained, and tried to lift a hand to rub her head, but she was still fairly trapped underneath the curtain.
"Not today, freaks!" someone yelled above them, and the curtain was ripped away from their bodies.
"Cass?" Dean said.
"Brooke?" Sam said, at the same time.
Brooke groaned and sat up, staring into Sam and Dean's cartoon faces and shoving down more mounting panic about the fact that they were all trapped in a cartoon.
"Like, you know these guys?" said a voice.
Brooke's eyes bugged out of her head as she turned and stared at Shaggy. Green shirt. Brown pants. Stupid hair. Shaggy.
"Uh, yeah," Sam said, pulling Brooke to her feet as Dean reached down and helped Cass. "They're uh, friends of ours."
"Neat-o!" Daphne chirped.
Brooke stared owlishly at her, her previous panic now replaced with something like awe. She was staring at the Scooby Gang.
"Castiel, Brooke," Dean said, and waved a hand at the five cartoon characters that had helped to shape Brooke's childhood, "the Scooby Gang."
"Castiel?" Shaggy repeated, coming closer. "It sounds like a great Italian pizza place!"
Brooke closed her eyes for a moment. Of course he'd associate your name with food.
Does he do that? Castiel asked.
Oh, yeah.
"Uhh, it's a pleasure to meet you," Castiel said, awkwardly, shaking Shaggy's hand.
Then Scooby Doo—the Scooby Doo—came up to them, offering Castiel a paw. "Nice to meet you, too."
Brooke stared, open-mouthed, and bent down automatically, as if she were a child meeting a Disney mascot at Disneyland, and hugged the dog.
Scooby blinked—she knew this because she could hear the tink-tink sound—and then chuckled and threw his front paws over her shoulders.
Cass, I'm gonna cry, Brooke said. I'm hugging Scooby Doo.
Castiel reached down and gently pulled her to her feet.
"Uhh, sorry," Brooke said, blushing. "I just… really like dogs."
"Dog?" Scooby, said, glancing around. "Where?"
Brooke laughed.
"Guys, how did you get here?" Sam asked.
Castiel explained to the boys how they'd gotten into the TV, back at the bunker.
"You saw purple sparks?" Sam asked. "Dean, that's like with the killer stuffed dinosaur!"
"The what?" Brooke asked.
"And they were both in that pawn shop," Sam continued, without elaborating. "Maybe this is all connected."
"Um, killer stuffed dinosaur?" Velma said, walking over to them, her hands on her hips.
Sam fumbled with his words, trying to backtrack.
"It's a book we're writing," Dean said, loudly. "Yeah, about… killer stuffed dinosaurs. It's called…"
Castiel, wanting to help out, and sensing Dean's awkwardness, threw himself into the situation. "The Killer Stuffed Dinosaur… In Love."
Brooke face-palmed—actually face-palmed. It seemed that being in a cartoon was affecting her personality.
"Huh," said Fred, staring at them. "Great title!"
"Yeah, great title!" Scooby agreed.
I'm surrounded by idiots, Brooke thought.
They are cartoon characters, Castiel replied.
"Well, if they aren't responsible for Cousin Simple's death," Daphne said, gesturing to Castiel and Brooke, "who is?"
The electricity wavered again, the chandelier overhead flickering. Brooke assumed, at first, that it was just the storm, but then Shaggy said, "Like, somebody turn up the heat in here, man. It's gettin' cold."
Brooke breathed out and saw, in front of her, a white cloud. Ghost, she thought.
In the distance, somewhere else in the mansion, someone screamed.
###
The lights had gone out entirely, so they wandered the halls of the mansion with flashlights and lanterns in their hands. It didn't take long to find the source of the scream, but the problem was that the ghost was still there, and it was pissed. Every door in the hall slammed shut in protest as the phantom slid through one of the doors, knocking Sam's flashlight from his hand.
"PHANTOM!" Shaggy screamed, and jumped into Castiel's arms.
Brooke actually stopped being scared long enough to stare at Castiel who was holding the man up, in his arms. A moment later, Scooby jumped into Shaggy's arms—and there was Castiel, looking alarmed, holding up a fully-grown man and his Great Dane.
Brooke blinked multiple times, hoping she'd wake up and realize all this was some fever dream.
There was another yell, this one from Fred, who ran at the ghost to tackle it. It phased itself out and Fred went right through it. Brooke backed up as the ghost attacked Sam, Dean, and Fred, gouging long claw-marks into the walls. Then it disappeared through the wall. A relatively normal affair for a Hunter in the real world… but here…
"G-G-Ghost!" Scooby whimpered, right before Castiel dumped him and Shaggy unceremoniously onto the ground.
"Guys, no, it's not a ghost!" Velma yelled, sounding like she was really trying to convince herself more than anyone else.
"Oh yeah?" Shaggy asked, still on the ground. "Then, man, how did he just walk through that wall?"
"Well, there's probably a hidden door!" Velma insisted.
Oh, boy, Brooke thought, stepping up to her husband. Hey, are you okay?
What, you think one human and a dog are too much for me to hold up? Castiel asked her.
She raised an eyebrow at him. Your powers are failing, Cass. It's a serious question.
He pursed his lips. I'm fine.
Good.
"It looks like he was coming out of here," Fred said, and Brooke looked up.
She and Castiel followed the others over to the door that Fred was opening. She peaked around the doorframe to see what had happened to the guy who'd screamed—and immediately wished she could bleach her eyeballs. The man's body was in three parts: severed head, lower body, and upper body. The upper body was strung up on the ceiling. Brooke made a groaning noise at the smell of blood and viscera and turned away. She was a Hunter; she'd seen horrifying things like this her entire life. Somehow, though, looking upon such things never got any easier.
"I think I'm gonna be sick," Dean said, gagging.
Castiel sucked in a breath through his teeth and pulled Brooke's face into his chest, as if he could hide her from the sight of the man.
"Well, that's not good," Fred said, as if they'd simply found the man, alive and well, in his room, and perhaps he'd just stubbed his toe. "Come on, gang!" He walked away.
Brooke stared at his retreating form, half-wanting to punch him in the face, or take him by the shirt collar and shake him. She turned and gave Sam and Dean a what-the-fuck look.
Sam shared her look. "So, do they always just walk away from dead bodies, or…"
Dean ignored his question, walking into the room. "Sam, the cold spot, fritzing out, that was a ghost—our kind of ghost. I think this cartoon… is haunted."
Brooke sighed and rested her forehead against Cass' shoulder. "Oooof course it is," she muttered. Exciting as it was to be in a Scooby Doo cartoon, all she wanted to do was get back to the real world and find Jack and Mary. Cass, is there any chance this is actually just a hallucination from Djinn poison.
He actually thought about it for a moment. I don't… think so. Djinn don't tend to give their victims unsavory hallucinations. The point is to make them want to remain in the fantasy world, and clearly, neither of us would wish to stay here.
Brooke gently head-butted his shoulder over and over again, sighing. Great, she said.
…
"All right, Prepmeister Fred, what's your plan?" Dean asked, a few minutes later.
"We should all split up and search the house for clues!" Fred said, excitedly.
"That's a plan?" Castiel asked.
Brooke snorted. They're cartoon characters on a TV show where, up to now, all the bad guys were men in masks. They don't know how to deal with actual monsters.
Clearly, Castiel replied.
"I don't think we should separate," Sam spoke up. "It'll be easier for Dean and me to keep you safe if we're all together."
"Really, Sam?" Velma asked. "I wouldn't expect such a big, broad-shouldered fella like you to be as chicken as Shaggy." She placed her hand on Sam's shoulder.
Brooke raised an eyebrow.
Velma turned. "No offense, Shaggy."
"Like, none taken," Shaggy said, as he and Scooby popped out from behind a suit of armor they'd been hiding behind.
Sam glanced around at Dean, Cass, and Brooke and went off to a corner to talk to them. "If this is a real ghost, these guys are in trouble. We can't anything happen to them."
"Exactly," Dean agreed. "So, for now, let's follow Ascot Boy's lead." He turned away from the group and shouted, "I call team up with Daphne!"
"Great!" Fred said, coming in between Dean and Daphne and squeezing them both in one-armed hugs. "It'll be just the three of us!"
Brooke stared at them, and then glanced at Velma. Okay, so, Dean wants to bang Daphne, Velma wants to bang Sam… Jesus, I am never watching Scooby Doo again.
Velma wants to what? Castiel asked, shocked.
You haven't noticed the total sex eyes Velma's been giving Sam?
N-No…
Right at that moment, Velma quickly said, "Sam and I will check the attic!" and then glommed herself onto the younger Winchester brother. "I mean, unless you're too scared." She blinked up at him innocently, her hands clasped together, leaning her back against his chest.
Oh, Castiel said, flatly. Yes, I see it now.
"Like, man, I guess that leaves me and old Scoob with with you two!" Shaggy said, coming over to them, with Scooby at his side.
Brooke glanced at her husband, wondering how he'd take this.
"Wonderful," he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "I once led armies, and now I'm paired with a scruffy Philistine and a talking dog."
Brooke's face broke into a smile for about one second before she mastered her facial expressions again. Be nice, Cass. You're talking to famous people.
Famous characters, who aren't real.
They're real right now.
Castiel sighed. Fine.
###
Five minutes into their skulk through the mansion, Scooby and Shaggy complained about a sudden drop in temperature. Brooke had felt it, too, and turned around with the rest of them to look for the ghost.
It was right behind them, and roared menacingly.
Scooby and Shaggy screamed and ran away, and Brooke had half a mind to follow their lead. In a normal world, she'd fight, but this was Cartoon Land and cartoon logic seemed to be slowly permeating her brain. Now, instead of wanting to stand her ground against this ghost, she wanted nothing more than to chase after the guy and his dog.
Castiel seemed less inclined to run. However, instead of fighting with the phantom using angel powers or something, he stood with his finger to his chin, studying the creature. "Never seen a ghost wear such a ridiculous costume," he said. Brooke understood, then, that he was doubting the validity of this ghost. He thought, perhaps, that it was a man in a costume, attempting to scare them all. He reached forward, to touch the garment that the ghost was wearing… and his hand went straight through.
The hair on the back of Brooke's neck stood on end.
Shaggy had come back, and yanked at Castiel and Brooke, pulling them along, urging them to run away.
The phantom was comically slow. Indeed, it would have been funny if not for the very real threat to all their lives. It swiped at the empty air where Cass and Brooke had been standing five seconds ago, and then shambled up the steps after them, never stopping its pursuit but always, somehow, too slow to catch them.
And then the music started. The Scooby Doo theme music.
"Cass!" Brooke shouted, as she ran, "Am I insane, or do you hear that, too?"
"I hear it!" Castiel confirmed, and then reached down and snatched up her hand, pulling her along even faster. "Now, run!"
Brooke tried not to feel utterly repulsed by the rubbery sensation of his cartoon hand. There were other things to worry about—like avoiding being ripped to shreds by an angry ghost.
What followed was a montage that she had always enjoyed watching, but was not nearly as fun being a part of. She, Castiel, Scooby and Shaggy all ran across the others, who were then also running from the ghost. They all found themselves in a hallways full of many doors, and they all ran through first one door and then another, and another. The insides of the room were bare—completely unfurnished—probably because the cartoon did not require those rooms to be furnished in order to further the plot. This was somewhat of a terrifying thought to Brooke. Actually, this entire experience had been terrifying, even before the ghost had shown up. The second they were free of this place, she intended to wipe it from her memory.
At some point, all the running, back and forth and back and forth, grew confusing and tiring, and Brooke swore she saw Scrappy Doo run past them for a few seconds during one pass, and why were they even doing this?
Finally, they stopped and—and everyone else started to board up the doors.
"It's a ghost!" Brooke yelled at them, futilely. "It can go through boards. And doors!"
No one listened.
Cass, we gotta get outta here, Brooke said, holding her head in one hand. I think I'm actually losing my mind.
"No time for that," Castiel said, grabbing her hand again. "Run!"
Brooke looked up in time to see the ghost come out through one of the boarded up doors, and as she was dragged away by Cass, she yelled, "See?"
"Shhh," he admonished. "Get in here."
"What?" She looked around to see him pointing to a gigantic pot. She recalled vague memories of watching this cartoon as a child and always seeing the Scooby Gang hide from the monster inside giant pots that looked like vases. She turned to her husband. "I am not getting in that."
"You are getting in that," he said.
"Get in, Brooke!" Dean yelled, before hopping—very cartoon-style—into his own vase. And with Daphne, no less.
"Oh my God," Brooke groaned, and got into the giant vase-pot-thing.
Castiel squeezed himself in beside her and she nearly threw up, feeling his body squish and squeeze and extend itself in strange, physics-breaking ways in order for the both of them to fit inside the pot.
Cass, I can't fucking do this. The cartoon shit is freaking me out.
At least your body stayed normal. I'm the one who should be bothered by this.
They both went silent, even in their minds, as they felt the ghost go past their hiding spot; they felt it as a drop in temperature that approached, and then left. And when it had gone past, they popped their heads up out of the pot and looked around at the others. They had about a two-second reprieve before the ghost came back.
And then they were off to the races again, zooming out of their pots so fast that their feet did not even touch the ground. Somehow, the group, despite all going in the same direction, they ended up on opposite sides of a hallway, split evenly in half. Still fearful of the ghost, they continued to run, half-looking over their shoulders, and thus crashed into each other, ending up in a huge dog pile on the ground.
Brooke, groaning and holding her head, was certain she'd heard the sound of bowling pins being knocked over. Before she even had a chance to gather herself, Castiel was gathering her himself, picking her up in his arms and sprinting away from the ghost. He ran through a set of double doors, after the others, and Sam and Dean slammed them shut.
Castiel set Brooke down, cupping her face in his hands. "Are you all right?"
"I will be once you get your creepy rubber hands off me," Brooke said, shuddering. "God, this is weird."
"Sorry," he replied, dropping them.
Brooke hated that she had come to a world where being touched by her own husband made her feel so uncomfortable. She felt Castiel's discomfort, as well, though his was directly related to how touching her made her feel. He felt bad. She wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, and began to do so, but then Fred yelled loudly and interrupted her.
"We have to stop this ghost!"
"We almost did!" Daphne replied. "Dean had him by the thigh!"
"He what?" Brooke and Castiel asked, at same time, and stared at the back of Dean's head.
"I almost caught him," Dean said, in an unamused tone. "That's the point."
"Guys, come on!" Velma yelled, panicking. "For the last time, there's no such thing as ghosts!"
Right as she said it, the temperature in the room plummeted, and it got so cold that ice formed on Velma's glasses, and all the windows. The electricity crackled and then went out. Brooke reached down at squeezed Cass' hand, even as she pulled a face doing it. It was like squeezing a rubber chicken, minus the hilarious noise.
The ghost floated through the doors.
"I'll get him!" Fred said, charging forward.
"Fred!" Sam yelled, "don't!"
But it was too late. Fred ran right up to the ghost, who became corporeal and backhanded Fred so hard that he went flying, hitting a marble bust, which broke into pieces, and then slamming into the wall behind it. He did not get back up.
Velma and Daphne began to float, then, and were sent up to the ceiling, pinned there by the ghost.
"Like, that's our cue to get outta here!" Shaggy yelled, and he and Scooby attempted to run away.
The ghost was having none of that, and lifted Shaggy up with a wave of his hand, throwing him through the glass doors leading onto the patio. The doors shattered, and they all heard Shaggy scream as he, presumably, fell to the ground two stories below.
Oh my God, did Shaggy just fucking fall to his death? Brooke thought, her mind frantic.
She looked up, startled, at the sound of horrific screaming. Sam and Dean had stabbed the ghost's corporeal form with iron candle holders, which were now sticking out of its back, pouring purple light from its form like blood. It continued to screech and scream and then it vanished, the candle holders clattering to the floor. Daphne and Velma also fell, though they were caught by Dean and Sam.
Fred groaned, standing up. "What just happened?"
"Where's Raggy?" Scooby wailed, by which of course, he meant Shaggy.
"Over here!" came a desperate scream from the porch. They turned to see Shaggy clinging to some broken-off piece of the porch railing, but even as they watched, it broke completely and Shaggy fell.
Scooby cried his name and bounded out and off the porch.
Castiel, without thinking, followed. "Scooby!" he yelled, trying to grab at the dog's tail and missing. "Scooby!" He swan-dived off the porch.
Brooke, somewhat in shock, stumbled to the porch and leaned down over the railing. "CASS!" she screamed. It didn't matter that they were in a cartoon. If Castiel died here, he was dead. Horrible flashbacks from the night of his death not so long ago came rushing through her mind, of kneeling on the ground as she felt his life go out, as she felt his presence vanish from her mind.
Castiel grabbed Scooby's tail, who was holding onto Shaggy, and then… his trench coat billowed out behind him, impossibly, into the shape of a parachute, which slowed their fall. They tumbled down into and through the branches of a tree and ended up on the ground. Brooke couldn't exactly see her husband, but she could feel him in her mind, and his life force was still strong. He had not died, or been injured. She leaned heavily against the porch railing and pressed a hand to her chest, feeling elated—and also nauseous—and then she ran down the stairs and outside with the rest of them.
"Shaggy, are you okay?" Daphne demanded.
"Like, do I look like I'm okay?" he snapped.
Castiel had one hand pressed to Shaggy's shoulder. "It appears his arm is broken."
"What?" Shaggy said, genuinely shocked. "That's not—I have jumped out of a biplane in a museum and was fine! How did this happen?"
"I-I don't know," Fred said, his hair a mess. "I… Something threw me across the room."
"Wires," Velma insisted. "Probably just wires."
It was at this point that Sam and Dean decided to tell the Scooby Gang the truth—after they creatively invented a sling for Shaggy's broken arm.
Brooke stood beside Castiel, silently, and listened as the boys explained that monsters and magic were real. And then she witnessed them all have a complete breakdown, yelling about Heaven and Hell and how stupid they all were, and the fact that they could have been hunting real monsters this whole time, and how useless they all felt.
Suddenly, Brooke felt very tired. You don't want this life, she thought, and Castiel brushed against her mind with his own, since touching her physically was so strange. She relished the thought of being back in her own universe, and prayed they'd be back soon.
###
Catching the ghost was no easy affair, but after one failed attempt, an attempt that included soap suds and coconuts and a washing machine, the second attempt worked. Now, Brooke, Castiel, Sam, and Dean all stood in the basement, watching the enraged ghost slam into the barrier created by a salt circle that Dean had put down half an hour ago. In the real world, the barrier was invisible, but in Cartoon Land, it actually created a pretty cool effect, a glowing blue circular wall that cast the basement in eerie light.
The ghost screeched in anger and slammed itself into the barrier over and over again, eventually tiring itself out for a moment and glaring at Sam.
"That's a salt circle," Sam said, triumphantly. "You're stuck."
"Let… me… go!" the phantom howled, its voice a strange and terrifying sound, high-pitched and howling. It batted itself around the salt circle again, this time landing in front of Dean, planting its claws against the barrier and staring at the older Winchester.
"Happy to, Sparky," Dean replied, his hands on his hips. "Soon as you tell us who you really are."
The phantom did not like that, and screeched even louder, pounding its fists against the barrier over and over, until it finally slid to the ground, sitting with its arms around its knees. Then its terrifying exterior vanished, and was replaced by a small human boy.
"It's… a child," Castiel murmured, in shock and despair. He hated that an innocent child's soul had been corrupted and turned into the phantom that had been chasing them around for the past several hours.
"Yeah, creepy ghost kid," Dean said, casually. "You get used to 'em."
Castiel pursed his lips, unsatisfied with that response.
Brooke sighed, wanting to comfort him but not wanting to touch him to do it. She settled for brushing against his mind, as he'd done to her earlier.
"But, wait," Sam said, staring down at the boy. "Why are you trying to kill us?"
"I'm not," said the boy. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. But the bad man, he makes me."
Castiel, who was strongly invested in helping this boy, said, "The bad man?"
"His name is Jay."
"The dude from the pawnshop," Dean said.
"What?" Brooke asked, looking at him. "What pawnshop?"
"When I died, my soul was tied to a pocketknife," the boy explained. "My dad gave it to me. It meant everything. When Jay found me, he used me… to…" He stopped speaking for a moment, burying his face into his arms. "Sometimes, I just get so angry. I break things, hurt people. But I don't want to. I just wanna see my dad again."
Dean ran a hand through his hair, clearly disturbed by this story. They all were. As a Hunter, Brooke was always coming across disturbing things, but any time children were involved it was always a thousand times worse. She found herself gazing at the floor, unable to look the child in the eyes, who was now floating several feet off the ground.
"I'm sorry," Castiel said. "It was wrong of him to do that."
"None of this was your fault," Sam said.
"Sam's right," Brooke said, her voice wavering. "Jay…" She fell silent, thinking of all the ways she might murder the man who had caused this poor little boy to do all of these horrific things.
"Look, if you get us back to the real world, we can set you free," Dean said.
"Do you promise?" the boy asked, sounding happy for the first time since he'd started talking to them.
"Cross my heart and hope to d—…" Dean grimaced, realizing that that wasn't the best phrase to use while talking to a ghost. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "Well, you know what I mean."
The boy smiled.
###
Brooke stood back and watched as Dean settled the Scooby Gang down, lying and pretending as if they'd been wrong all along, and there was no such thing as the supernatural. It took a little convincing, but after a few minutes, the group seemed eager enough to swallow the lies, and she couldn't blame them for it.
As they said their goodbyes, she couldn't help but smile as she watched her husband stealthily heal Shaggy's arm (who then proclaimed that perhaps it had never been broken in the first place).
"I will miss your wise words and your gentle spirits," Castiel told Shaggy and Scooby, pulling them into crushing hugs.
"Like, we will miss breathing," Shaggy gasped.
Castiel released them and they fell, unceremoniously, to the ground, panting.
Cass, did you forget you have super strength? Brooke asked, trying not to laugh.
He ignored her, and knelt down beside the man and his dog. "Thank you," he said, with a smile. "You've shown me the great strength of laughter in the face of danger—
"Danger?" Scooby demanded, sitting up and looking around. "Where?"
"Let's get outta here, man!" Shaggy yelled, and they both took off.
As the Scooby Gang left, and after they were well out of earshot, the four of them stepped up around the "villain" that they'd caught.
"We're ready," Castiel said, his hands in his coat pockets.
The villain's face shifted, and his body glowed purple as he transformed back into the ghost boy. They all stepped closer and reached out their hands—
—and were suddenly standing back in Dean's Man Cave, in the real world.
They each took it differently. Sam stared down at himself; Dean did the same but also patted his body down, as if making sure that he was really real; Castiel lifted his hands up to stare at them, glad to have all five fingers back.
And Brooke said, "Thank fuck," and threw her arms around her husband, kissing him hard, tangling her fingers into his hair, and relishing the feel of him. He was solid and she could feel the hardness of his skull under her fingers, feel the bones in his hands as he wrapped one arm around her and cupped the back of her neck with the other hand. Their bodies molded to one another—but not in a gross, cartoonish way. His chest remained firm where her breasts pressed against it, and his mouth was soft, but not too soft. She sighed into the kiss, letting it linger, not caring—as usual—that the boys were right there.
Cockily, she slipped her tongue into Castiel's mouth, and a noise of surprise sounded in his throat, though he cut it off almost immediately. It was replaced with a growl of pleasure and need, for they had not been intimate since Jack had vanished to the other world. There had never seemed a correct time, and their nights were usually too filled with worry and an underlying sense of dread. Castiel inhaled, his mouth still pressed to hers, and brought one hand down to squeeze her ass.
"Whoa! Guys!" Dean admonished. "You can bang later, all right? We still gotta save the ghost kid."
Reluctantly, with hidden smiles and glittering eyes, they pulled apart, with silent promises to continue where they'd left off, later.