Seven
"So," Castiel began, as they all stood around outside the Impala, having made their way back to where Samandriel was being held. It was long past dark, now. "There are four main points of warding—North, South, East, and West—and four Enochian symbols that you need to destroy before I can enter." He drew the symbol on Sam's hand with a marker.
"Okay," said Dean, "so what? We go in, take care of the Hell mooks, and you extract the angel?" He glanced between Castiel and Brooke.
"Yes," Castiel replied. "After killing so many… I need to save, at least, this one."
Brooke touched his arm, offering him strength as he tried not to remember, too clearly, the amount of damage he had done in Heaven.
There was a pause, for a moment, as the four of them contemplated Castiel's hand in the destruction of Heaven, and what they were about to do now, here.
"Sounds like a plan," Sam said, and the spell was broken.
"Okay," said Dean, and pulled the demon blade out of his inner coat pocket.
Brooke took out her angel blade and prepared to follow Castiel. He glanced down at the blade in her hand, and pulled his own out, handing it to Sam. "Here," he said. "This doesn't just work on angels. It kills demons, too."
Sam nodded his thanks, and the two Winchester brothers went off into the dark, to do their part of the job.
Brooke flipped her own angel blade around in her hand so that he held it by the blade, and offered it to Castiel, hilt-first.
He shook his head at her, slowly. "No, you keep it. You need it more than I do."
She shrugged and flipped the blade in her hand again. As they waited for Sam and Dean to do their job, Brooke asked, "Why does the anti-angel sigil that sends you flying three states away hurt me, too… but I can go into a building with angel warding and it doesn't hurt me?"
"It probably does hurt you, a little, to go into a warded building," Castiel replied. "You just don't notice it; you don't have enough of my Grace for it to truly affect you. But the anti-angel sigil… That hurts you because it hurts me, and we're connected, both mentally and through my Grace. And the Grace inside you… it is compelled to leave, when the sigil is activated. But you're not actually an angel, so you don't go flying like I do. In general, the warding on a building is less powerful than the sigil that compels an angel to actively leave. One is defensive; the other is offensive."
Brooke played with the angel blade in her hands, flipping it between her fingers. "Hypothetically, what would happen if you were magically teleported inside a building with the angel warding still intact?"
"I assume the warding would, very painfully, throw me out."
"So, it would become an anti-angel sigil."
"Yes. But I don't know for certain. I've never heard of an angel somehow getting into a warded area while the warding was still up."
Brooke nodded, silently, and continued to flip the blade around and around in her hands.
###
It took ten, fifteen minutes for the boys to take down the angel warding, and then Castiel teleported himself and Brooke inside with them. They all stood, now, before the final door between themselves and Samandriel. Brooke could sense three beings on the other side of the door, two of whom were demons. She assumed one of them had to be Crowley, for his presence was almost on par with Samandriel's—powerful… although the angel's power was flickering strangely, probably having to do with the torture he was going through. Brooke grimaced as he screamed.
Castiel swayed on his feet, beside her.
Instantly, she turned to him. Something was wrong. Something was… off.
Castiel panted, bending over slightly as if the act of teleporting had winded him, but it should not have. Teleporting was like breathing to an angel, especially to an angel who had not previously used any of his powers in the last several hours, and one who had not sustained any wounds. Castiel should have been at full strength, but he was not.
Brooke held him up, gripping his shoulder, hard. What's wrong?
He glanced at her, still panting, then straightened.
An image flashed in his mind, there and gone in a second.
Brooke squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hand into her forehead.
"Hey," Sam said, coming toward them. "Guys, you okay?"
Castiel, who was still breathing quite heavily, said, "It must the sigils. I'm not at full power."
Dean stared into the angel's face, then looked up and around all the sigils still tagged on the walls. "Sam, help me muss this crud," he said.
"No, wait!" Castiel yelled. "There's no time. Samandriel won't last much longer."
Brooke whipped her head up at his voice, so loud and urgent. He was… sweating.
Another flash of an image went through both of their minds, but it came from him.
Castiel's Grace began to rise in both of them, whining that high-pitched tone.
Alarm flooded Brooke as she stared at Castiel. Sam handed him his angel blade back, but he was no longer paying any attention to the Winchesters.
The angel, Samandriel, screamed again, from the other side of the door.
Castiel suddenly put his hands to ears, as if to drown out the sound. Castiel, who had been in countless battles, heard the sounds of many angels screaming before now. Castiel, who could be ruthless when he needed to be. And there was, covering his ears against the sound of another angel's screams.
Brooke stumbled forward and gripped Castiel but the collar of his trench coat. "What is it?" she ground out, her teeth clenched in psychic pain, the Grace in her blood nearly boiling.
Flashes of images ran through her head. A… a drill?
Samandriel screamed again.
Absolute panic and terror rose in Castiel. Terror like Brooke had never felt from him. He backed up, away from the door, his face a mask of horror, and bumped into the wall behind him.
Brooke followed him, but he only slid down the wall, staring at the door. He looked to be on the verge or tears, or screams of hysteria.
Brooke fell to her knees in front of him, his panic overwhelming her, the Grace in both of them screaming.
It was a drill. It was a drill… oh God.
Brooke covered her head with her arms, shaking.
The drill went into Castiel's eye.
The Grace inside both of them screeched horrendously, the pauses in between each hum now one long note, high and terrible, like someone pressing down too hard on a violin.
Brooke, who was still a human, even with an angel's Grace inside her, pressed her arms into her head even harder and screamed in pain. Now she could not tell—was the pain coming from Castiel, or Samandriel? It did not matter. All she knew was that she was a tiny little human, caught between two humongous angels, and the pain coming from both of them was tearing her apart.
Drills in Castiel's eyes, drills in Samandriel's brain…
Brooke cried out again, feeling like they were stabbing her. She bent down, pressing her forehead to the concrete floor, sweating, shaking.
Purgatory—drills—monsters—blood—pain—angels—Naomi?—pain—who the fuck was Naomi—pain—Purgatory—blood—pain.
Castiel rose from the floor, but Brooke did not notice him, stuck somewhere in her own head.
Brooke gasped as Castiel teleported her away, outside. Where are we? she asked.
But Castiel did not answer. He was talking to Samandriel.
Brooke, who was only partially aware of what was going on, lay on the cold ground and tried not to pass out.
"… Can't take me back… Don't understand… Crowley… Secrets I didn't even know we…."
"What secrets?" Castiel's voice.
"… Naomi."
—Naomi—the drill—pain—blood—
"… I've been there… I know… They're controlling us, Castiel!—
"Kill him!"
Brooke screamed as Naomi's face swarmed into her vision.
"This is a direct order! Kill him!"
Brooke could not see, but she could feel Castiel remove his angel blade from his sleeve. Where had he gotten the angel blade? He'd given his to Sam…
"No…" Brooke groaned, and coughed, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Castiel, don't…" She pushed herself up off the ground, the gravel digging into the palms of her hands—
Light flashed in Brooke's eyes Castiel stabbed Samandriel in the gut.
"NO!"
But it was too late, even as she felt Castiel try to stop himself, stare down at his own hand in shock and horror.
Brooke crawled across the ground to Castiel. What did you do?
Castiel knelt down at Samandriel's broken body and pressed his face into the boy's hair.
Brooke choked on a sob, and pressed her face into his back, holding him around the middle.
I don't, Castiel began, but his thought switched midway. He was compromised. He revealed our secrets to Crowley.
So you killed him for it? He was a boy… even by angel time, he was just a boy… and you killed Alfie, too. Brooke sobbed against Castiel's back, horrified and disgusted, yet she could not tear herself away from him, holding tight to his middle like she would die if she let go.
Sam and Dean were there, suddenly. Brooke's head hurt so terribly… she must not have noticed their approach.
"Let go of me," Castiel said. His voice was strangely emotionless.
"No," she replied, and another sob escaped her.
"Please do not make me hurt you. Let go of me."
Brooke released Castiel, and fell onto the ground, staring up at him in shock. He turned to look down at her for a moment, and blinked.
Blood dripped from the inner corner of his eye. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, staring down it like he had never seen blood before. "My vessel must have been damaged in the melee," he said.
What melee? Brooke asked, in her mind, for she was too exhausted to speak, now.
Castiel turned to Sam and Dean and words were traded between the three of them, but all she heard was the pounding of blood in her head. Or was it Grace?
"Thank you, both," said Castiel, his voice suddenly coming back into focus for her. "For everything you've done."
What about me? she asked, faintly, on the verge of passing out.
He turned and stared at her for a moment, then she felt a twisting inside her mind, the Grace in her blood. FORGET, he commanded, and then he was gone.
And so was she, gone into dreamland.
###
For the next twenty-four hours or so, Brooke was plagued by fever dreams.
The monsters of Purgatory mixed with angels in her head. Angel blades became giant drills in her hands, and as she plunged them down into monsters, the monsters all became Castiel.
And the face of an angel named Naomi hovered over everything, watching.
Once, as she plunged a drill down into Castiel's eye, he fought back, gripping her by the front of her shirt and throwing her to the ground. She scrambled away, staring at him as he came toward her with the drill still in his eye.
He pulled it out, and it became an angel blade again. He walked toward her, calmly, bleeding from his eye, and knelt down on top of her chest, so that she gasped, uselessly, for breath.
He stared down at her, his face devoid of emotion, and plunged the angel blade into her eye.
###
Brooke woke suddenly, at the sound of screaming, and sat up, panting. It took some time for her to realize where she was. She sat on a couch, her knees pulled up to her chest. Rufus' cabin. That's where she was. She felt sick. Feverish.
"Hey," said a voice, quietly.
Her eyes swiveled to the right. Dean sat in a chair, his elbows on his knees, staring at her.
She stared at him, but said nothing.
"You've been out of it since last night."
Brooke looked away, trying to remember what had even happened last night. Castiel. She looked at Dean again, repeating the name, aloud: "Castiel."
"He's still gone."
And suddenly, she remembered that Castiel had stabbed Samandriel to death. She began to cry.
Dean sighed, heavily and stood up. He left her for a moment, and when he returned, he was carrying two beers. He offered one to her.
She stared at it for a moment, and then shook her head. "My head feels like shit, already," she told him through her tears. "Water would probably be better."
Dean made a face, like water was the most disgusting substance on Earth, but he went back to the kitchenette and came back with a glass of tap water. She took it and sipped it, trying to force the tears down. Crying was making her headache worse.
"Listen," said Dean, sitting back down in the chair and sipping his beer. "What the hell happened last night?"
"I… I don't know. Castiel teleported us—Samandriel and me—outside and…" Brooke closed her eyes as the world began to spin. The glass in her hand shook. Something was wrong. Fuzzy. "All I remember," she said, slowly, "is Castiel stabbing Samandriel."
"He said it was self-defense," Dean replied. "Is that true?"
Brooke held her head in one hand. "I… I don't think Samandriel attacked him… But, I-I don't know."
"What was the deal with you screaming like that?"
"Screaming," she repeated, faintly, shaking her head. "I was screaming?"
Dean stared at her, hard. "You don't… remember? After Castiel freaked out. lookin' like he saw a ghost?"
Brooke's head was splitting. The glass slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor, and she gripped her head in both hands, crying out.
"Hey, hey, hey," Dean said, getting up out of the chair and going to her. He held her shoulder. "Brooke? Hey, what's wrong?"
But Brooke could no longer hear him. The world spun out of control, and she blacked out.
###
Brooke was more stable once she woke up the second time, but every time Dean tried to ask her about Cass, she felt woozy all over again. He eventually learned to stop asking, though they did have a bit of a tense moment once.
"Are you hiding something from me?" he demanded, pointing a finger at her.
She stared at him. "About what? Cass?"
"Of course Cass! What else would I be talking about?"
Brooke sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. "Look, this isn't… this isn't like when he wanted to open Purgatory, okay? I'm not keeping his secrets. I swear, if he ever decides to do something so stupid ever again, I will tell you before I do anything else."
Dean studied her for a few seconds, his green eyes harsh and cold, and then he nodded. "Okay. I'm holding you to that, though."
"Fine," she said, twisting her wedding band around on her finger. "Look… Whatever is wrong, he never told me anything about it, and I… I never sensed anything wrong with him until the night we went to rescue Samandriel. And it's kind of impossible for him to hide anything from me, cos we're… you know."
"Yeah," said Dean. "The Vulcan mind-meld thing."
Silence, for a beat.
"Is it weird?" he asked.
"What?"
"The Vulcan mind-meld thing."
Brooke tried to remember what being connected to Castiel's mind had felt like six years ago. "Weird, no… In the very beginning, all it was, was just… overwhelming. Castiel is…" She sighed. "It's different for you, for Sam. For anyone else. Because you can't see him. Not really. But you have to remember, he's not human, even if he acts like it—well… He acts like a very socially awkward human, but human nonetheless." She smiled. "But he's… he's not. Being attached to his mind was never weird for me so much as it was just too much, in the beginning. What you see is a small, scrawny little man in a trench coat. His clothes are too big for him, which just makes him look smaller. What I see, what I feel… It's like… stars. A galaxy. An entire universe, inside this tiny shell of a man. But I can see it—him. I can see… all of him."
Brooke had almost forgotten that she was even talking to Dean, as she thought about Castiel. In their day to day lives, after six years, she had mostly gotten used to having an angel in her head, to looking at him and mostly focusing on the vessel. It was only late at night, or right when she woke up, that she really gave herself time to focus on… the vastness of him.
"He's beautiful," she murmured, gazing at nothing, but seeing the angel in her mind, remembering all that glorious light pouring from him when he had rescued her from those demons six years ago.
Then, she remembered who she was talking to, and glanced up at Dean, blushing. "You… probably didn't wanna hear all that."
Dean was staring at her, strangely, his mouth half-open. But he snapped out of it the moment she remembered he was there, and cleared his throat. "It's, uhh… It's fine," he said, smiling awkwardly, and walking away.
Brooke watched him go, wondering…