Two

Brooke ran her hands through her hair as she sat on the motel bed with Cass. "Maybe Dean had a point," she said, feeling anxious about something she'd never really thought about before. "Houses are expensive. And we don't know long these magical credit cards are gonna work. I assume Jack will eventually poof them away, too, or make them stop working, like he did with the bunker. What if we…" She took a breath, and Castiel reached over to hold her hand in the interim. "What if we end up homeless?"

"I'm sure that won't happen," Castiel told her, softly. "The four of us will stick together—whenever Dean decides to meet up with us again."

Dean hadn't come back since he'd left the non-functioning bunker three days ago. Sam had texted him the address of the motel they were staying at, but the older Winchester hadn't shown up.

"Besides," Cass went on, "we have other friends who already have houses. I'm sure Jody would take us in until we could find a place for ourselves."

Brooke made a face. "I wouldn't want to intrude. She's already living with two girls, and taking in another four people seems excessive."

He went silent.

Annoyed that she did not know why he had gone silent, she looked up at him. "What?"

"Oh," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "I was… silently agreeing with you, and trying to come up with an alternative. I… forgot you can't hear me." The last part he murmured quietly, as if speaking to himself.

Brooke sighed, momentarily putting aside her worry about their future. She took Castiel's chin in her fingers, studying his face.

Confusion wrinkled his brow, but he allowed her to gently move his head from side to side.

She shook her head, releasing him. "You look… You look like you did when we first met. Jack really did make us younger. I feel it, too—in my body. I'm not as tired. Your Grace did a lot to preserve me, but it couldn't do everything, especially once you started… you know, losing your powers."

He gazed at her, waiting.

"I just…" She sighed again. "You look like you, but… not really. The rest of you is missing."

"The angelic part of me," he murmured.

She nodded.

"You know, nothing is really missing," he said, and smiled at her, albeit sadly. "This is it, now. This is all I am."

She pursed her lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"I know."

"You're enough, Castiel, just as you are."

"I know."

"But… But you were an angel for… millennia. And I knew you, as an angel, for fifteen years. It'll be hard to just… let that go."

"I know," he said, for the third time, and drew her to him, and rested his forehead against hers.

They breathed, in and out, five times, but when they were done, they remained where they were.

"It's hard for me, too," he said. "I may not have had wings for years, but everything else about being an angel… I miss it all the time. I love being able to eat food again, and actually taste it, but I hate the digestion process. I love sex, but I hate the fact that I can't simply wave my hand and clean up. We actually have to get up, out of the bed, when all I want to do afterwards is sleep, and take a shower."

She laughed. "I hate that part, too. I forgot how sticky sex is. You spoiled us for so many years. And I… I get headaches now, and muscle pain, and… stomachaches. Things I haven't had in years. I might feel the effects of being younger, but it's a weird balance between that and feeling suddenly older in a lot of other ways, because I'm dealing with shit I haven't had to deal with in so long."

Finally, Castiel pulled back and looked at her. "I hate not being able to see your molecular structure," he said.

She blinked. "What?"

He blushed—which Brooke thought made him look beautiful, like a painting—and glanced away in embarrassment. "I used to… doctor you a lot. I'd check over your body, usually when you were asleep. I'd look at your molecular structure, your cells. Skin cells, blood cells, everything. Your brain function, your organs. Any little sign of illness I noticed—a cold, a fever, a single cancerous cell—I'd eradicate. That's why you never had headaches or stomachaches or unexplainable aches and pains. Any pain you had was a direct result of a battle, of being thrown into a wall, of getting punched. But I made sure you were never sick… And now I can't anymore." His face fell and he stared off into the distance.

"Getting sick, getting hurt… It's part of being human," Brooke said, after a few moments of silence. "At least we won't have to worry about getting thrown around by demons or whatever anymore."

He nodded and tried for a smile, but it didn't seem to take.

"We'll get used to this," she whispered, feeling sudden tears sting her eyes. "Or… I hope we will."

He turned to look at her again, probably hearing the thickness in her voice, and said, "Shh." And he sat in the bed and held her against his chest for a while, his chin resting atop her head.

After a long, comfortable silence, when Brooke thought that she could speak normally again and wasn't feeling so sad, she sat up. Castiel let her go, but held her hand in lieu of holding her body, and she smiled.

"So… When do you want to get married?" she asked. She had tried not to think about it overly much, and hadn't talked about it since he'd proposed to her. Saying it out loud, now, made her heart pound.

Castiel's face lit up. "Anytime you want," he said. "I… I've been doing some research about it, and it doesn't seem very difficult, unless you want a wedding ceremony." Quickly, he added, "We can, if you want. H-Have a wedding ceremony, I mean. It's just… It's more expensive that way, and… we'd have to book things in advance, and…" Awkwardly, he fell silent, and once again, a blush crept into his cheeks.

Brooke smiled at him. "You did secret research about weddings?" she asked.

He nodded, shyly.

"I love you," she said, and laughed.

He looked relieved, and sank into the bed a little more, smiling. "I love you, too."

She thought for a moment, and then said, "We could just go to the courthouse and sign the papers and then have an afterparty. I wouldn't feel guilty asking Jody to set that up, You know, as opposed to asking her if we could live with her."

"An afterparty sounds nice."

Brooke fell silent for a minute, lost in thought, and then she said, "You know, we'd need witnesses, even if we just went to the courthouse. They have to be there to sign with us."

"Yes," Castiel said. "I was thinking of Sam and Dean… but… Well, Dean…" He sighed.

"I'm sure he'd come to our wedding," Brooke said, reassuringly. And then she sat bolt-upright in the bed. "Cass."

"What? What is it?" He sat up, too, looking concerned.

She took a few deep breaths, shaking. "Daphne."

He stared at her, his lips parting slightly. "Daphne," he repeated in a whisper.

"I—I was…" Brooke shook her head, trying to explain her train of thought, irritated for the five-hundredth time that day that Castiel couldn't read her mind anymore. "I was thinking of who I'd like to come to our wedding, if we did have a ceremony—not that I want one. But… Daphne." Her eyes were wide, her heart pounding. "Cass, we left her alone for years because we wanted her to be safe, but—

"But there's nothing to protect her from anymore," he said, quickly. "There are no more demons. No monsters."

"Right!" And then Brooke had a terrible thought, and it felt as if someone had gut-punched her. "Oh, God… Cass, what if she's… What if she's dead and we didn't know about it…?"

"No," he said, fiercely, cupping her face in his hands. "Don't think like that, Brooke. Don't go down that road. We should simply go and… and see for ourselves."

She nodded, placing her hands over top of his. "You're right. We should go and… We should go."

And they turned and looked at the motel door, and their muscles tightened in the act of readying themselves to get out of bed and pack and hit the road. And then Brooke saw the digital clock in the corner of her eye, sitting on the nightstand. Its glowing green numbers indicated that it was past eleven at night. She sighed heavily. "Maybe we should wait 'til morning?"

Castiel looked confused for a moment, and then realization made his body slump a little. "Right… I forgot about sleep… again."

She laughed quietly. "You'll get used to it."

And so, they lay down and turned out the lights, and snuggled against one another, to try and go to sleep.

But Brooke lay awake for a long time, memories of her and Cass' time with Daphne flitting through her mind. She remembered waking up beside that reservoir so many years ago, having lost her memory, along with Castiel. She remembered going to the church, and the pastor there telling Daphne about them. Daphne had taken them into her home, and had eventually discovered that Castiel was an angel. Even then, she had not shunned them, but had helped them find purpose in healing others. She had become something of a motherly figure to the both of them.

And then, when demons had come after Castiel, and Dean had shown up the same day, they'd gone off with him to help save Sam. In the process, they'd remembered who they were, and had decided that returning to Daphne would be too dangerous. The only way they could keep her safe was by staying away, so that's exactly what they'd done. But they'd never forgotten what she'd done for them during those six strange months. They'd been strange, indeed, but they'd also been some of the most peaceful months of their lives.

Brooke sighed aloud, feeling restless, and scooted gently away from her husband, trying not to wake him.

"Are you awake?" he breathed, hardly speaking at all, in case she was actually asleep.

"Yes," she whispered back.

"I can't sleep," he murmured.

"Thinking about Daphne?"

"Yes."

They lay there in the dark for a few moments.

"You wanna go now?" she asked.

"Yes," he repeated.

And they went, packing quickly in the dark. Brooke took a moment to send a text to Sam so that he'd see it in the morning, and then they were off. It was only after they were already on the road that they realized they weren't supposed to simply leave the motel room in the middle of the night. You were supposed to check out with the front desk, and they'd taken their key with them…

"Oh well," Brooke said, and they kept driving.

###

As they drove through the night to reach Daphne's home, Brooke realized how much of their lives—hers and Castiel's, as well as Sam and Dean's—were tied to Kansas. The boys had been born here, the bunker was here, and this is where she and Cass had lived a new life with Daphne. And now, they were making a full circle.

That is, if Daphne was still alive. And still living in the same house. And hadn't been killed by demons, or run away to some far-flung corner of the world to avoid being killed by demons. And if she even still wanted anything to do with them after they'd ghosted her for… eight years.

Eight years.

No, nine years. Nine? Whatever.

"Cass, we're old," Brooke said, aloud.

He said nothing, but laughed quietly to himself.

"I mean…" She glanced at him, her eyes lingering on the way his hands gripped the steering wheel. "You're really old, but… It's been nine years since we've seen Daphne."

"Nine years," he murmured, sounding amazed.

"Right?" They fell silent for a moment, and then Brooke asked, "What do you even say to someone you ghosted for nine years?"

He sighed. "'I'm sorry?'"

"I don't know if I'm sorry is gonna cut it," she said. "But… I guess we'll just have to find out."

###

It was four o'clock in the morning when they pulled up to the street Daphne lived on—or, they hoped she still lived on.

Brooke sighed. "We should see if we can get some sleep. We can't just knock on the door at four a.m."

Castiel made a small sound of agreement in his throat, and pushed his seat back, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes were already closed.

She chuckled softly. "Good night, Cass."

"Good night," he breathed, and fell asleep.

###

The next morning, some time past eight, the two of them stood in front of Daphne's front door. They'd eaten a couple granola bars and brushed their teeth with water from a bottle, and done their best to straighten out their crumpled sleep-worn shirts.

"You think she'll be younger, like us?" Brooke asked, still too nervous to ring the doorbell.

"Jack said that not everyone would be," Castiel murmured, thinking about it. "Something about… if they were satisfied with their lives up to this point, or not."

Brooke tried to decide whether she thought Daphne would have been satisfied with her life or not, but it had been so long since she'd seen the woman that such a guess was impossible. Finally, after several deep breaths, she reached forward and rang the doorbell.

And waited.

Someone came to the door fairly quickly, and Brooke felt her heart in her throat…

But it was not Daphne. It was a man. He had a coffee cup in his hand, and he was looking at them a little warily. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Brooke opened her mouth to speak, but her mouth had gone dry, and the words stuck in her throat. She ended up merely staring at the man, half-wanting to run away without saying anything.

"Does Daphne Allen still live here?" Castiel spoke up, glancing at his wife.

"No," the man said, and his word seemed final, as if he were about to close the door on them. Instead, he continued to stand in the doorway, studying them. "Who's asking?"

"We're… old friends of hers," Brooke said, her voice finally working again. "She… She helped us out, a long time ago. We lived with her for several months." She fell silent, unsure of how much information this man needed to know.

He was staring hard at them, now. "Are you two Ruth and Emmanuel?" he asked, suddenly.

Brooke felt a shock run through her. "Yes," she breathed.

He nodded, slowly. "You were hit with the de-aging thing, huh?"

Brooke and Cass glanced at each other, nodding. The de-aging thing had been all over the news in the last week as people came to grips with waking up suddenly younger, while others remained the age that they'd been before this strange phenomenon. Also, not everyone de-aged the same amount. Some got back ten years, some five, some twenty. It was affecting relationships all over the world. Imagine waking up and suddenly being much closer in age to your own children…

Jack, since remaking the world, had certainly been hands off, disappearing up to Heaven. But he'd left quite a mark on the world, one that would take a lifetime or two to get used to.

Brooke shook herself, suddenly realizing that Castiel and the man who was now living in Daphne's house were speaking.

"… hasn't lived here in seven, eight years," the man said.

So, Daphne must have moved not too long after she and Cass had disappeared from her life.

"But she told me to give you her new address if you ever showed up," he went on, eyeing them, as if still in doubt as to their identities. "She gave me a… security question of sorts, though—to test you. Make sure you were really you."

Brooke nodded, unsurprised. Daphne had most likely been running from demons when she'd moved; she wouldn't want them to be able to find her so easily. On the other hand, any demon who really wanted to know where she was could've simply possessed the new homeowner…

"What's the question?" Castiel asked.

"What happened in the kitchen the night Daphne found out who you really were?" the man asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Brooke and Cass glanced at each other, smiling.

"We were making dinner," Brooke said. "She cut off the tip of her finger."

The man nodded. "Wait," he said. "I'll write down the address."

###

Daphne's new address was still in Kansas, at least, but far away from her old house—a drive of several hours.

"I wonder why she didn't move out of the state," Castiel said, as they pulled up to a diner to have some real food.

Brooke thought about it. "Maybe she thought moving super far away would be too obvious to anyone trying to find her. Maybe she was trying to hide in plain sight."

"Mm," said Castiel.

They ate quickly, without really tasting their food, then went to the bathroom and left, hitting the road again as soon as they could. Brooke drove this time, to give Castiel a break.

"You know," Brooke mused, slowly, as they neared Daphne's new address, "it feels a little like we were children who ran away from home, and now we're… finally coming back."

"So… Daphne is our… mother, in this analogy…"

"Yes. Is that weird?"

Castiel was silent for a moment, and Brooke risked a glance away from the road to see his brows furrowed in thought. Once again, for the fifty-thousandth time, she was annoyed that she couldn't simply hear his thoughts in her head.

"No, I don't think it's weird," he said. "Daphne… was our caretaker. Not motherly, per se… or maybe she was—I wouldn't know. I never had a mother, and barely had a father."

Brooke thought, suddenly, of her real mother, Rebecca. It had been years since she'd even thought of that name, and she wasn't sure how to feel about that… She put it from her mind, focusing only on her meeting with Daphne, for now. And, soon enough, they pulled up to her driveway.

###

When Daphne Allen opened her front door to greet them, Brooke found herself holding her breath, her chest tightening in anticipation and anxiety. The woman before her… was older than she remembered. Not by much, but any amount was enough to shock; it meant that Daphne had not de-aged. She had been among those who were satisfied with their lives, who had chosen to remain their current age.

Now she really is like our mother, Brooke thought, glancing at Cass, before remembering—again—that he could not hear her.

"Oh," Daphne breathed, putting a hand to her mouth. "Chris told me you were coming, but he didn't tell me you'd been de-aged…"

"He didn't tell us you hadn't," Brooke said, and then cringed, because she hated that that was the first thing she'd said to the woman in all these years. "Uh… you look good, though."

Daphne chuckled, smiling indulgently, as if realizing just how awkward Brooke felt. "Please," she said, "come in."

They went in. And they sat down, and they accepted cups of tea, and held them in their hands as if they had never held cups before.

Brooke took a swallow of her tea—too much of it—and spent the next several seconds coughing horrendously. It felt like a first date or something, those jitters you get, when you are far too clumsy purely from nerves.

But it was Castiel, to Brooke's surprise, who brought everything back down to Earth for them all. Daphne was sitting across from them in a comfy-looking chair, seemingly as confused about what to say as Brooke, when Castiel suddenly set his cup down and wiped at his eyes.

Brooke saw him, witnessed the small sniffles he was trying not to do, and said, "Oh, Cass…"

"I'm sorry," he said, quickly, his eyes red.

"No," Brooke and Daphne both said, trying to reassure him.

He gave a small laugh. "I'm just…" He suddenly looked Daphne straight in the eyes and said, fiercely, "We didn't want to leave you, but we had to. To keep you safe."

"I know," Daphne replied, softly. "Or, well, I knew it was something like that. I know that if you could have returned to me, you would have." She smiled at them, her own eyes watering now, and reached across the coffee table with both hands.

Castiel took one hand and Brooke the other, and they all leaned in toward each other. Then, they stood and moved away from the table, and embraced—all three of them, in a huddle.

And all seemed right with the world.