A/N: The site is being super weird right now, so I have no idea if this chapter will even go through, but hopefully it does? The site seems to be stable now, but I'm afraid to jinx it... *knocks on wood*

Nine

Brooke awoke, later that night, on the floor of the police station. There was a note next to her that read: "Going after Eve. Stay here. Wait for us."

She picked up the note, holding it in her hands, running her fingers over Bobby's handwriting. She sat on the floor, unmoving, for an hour. Two? She couldn't be sure. But, eventually, Castiel appeared before her. She saw his shoes and pant legs before anything else, and that was when she knew that her mind was still her own—and only her own.

"Eve," she whispered. There were many other things she wanted to say, instead, but her mind and heart were numb.

"Dead," the angel replied, and then crouched down in front of her and reached a hand out for her shoulder.

She flinched away from his touch… and he saw.

His hand fell away.

"How could you do that to me?" she whispered, and suddenly she was a mess of tears. "What is happening to us, Castiel?"

"I'm sorry," he said, but there was a note of urgency in his tone. "I—I can't—I have to take you away from here. Bring you to Bobby's, or somewhere, and leave. They found out that Crowley is still alive."

"I don't care about your stupid plan, Castiel," Brooke spat, tears still running down her face. "None of that matters to me, as long as you win." She looked up at him, finally, and grabbed his face in her hands. There was dried blood on the backs of her hands from where he had grabbed her earlier, after he had finished exploding the head off that demon. "I just want you back. You. Not this… angry, impatient, prideful angel. You. You've changed, and I don't care the reason."

Castiel began to pull himself out of her grasp so she tightened her grip on his face, digging her fingers into his cheeks, his temples. He stopped.

"Please just finish whatever it is you're going to do about Raphael. Finish it and come back to me, please," she begged, her voice breaking, sobs racking her body. "Please come back to me."

Castiel's expression broke, and he suddenly looked very human. He sat down fully onto the ground and pulled Brooke into his lap at the same time. She was so surprised by this that it only seemed to make her cry harder. He held her, then, as he had not held her since the first night that she had given herself to him. That night, over a year ago, when he had come to her as vulnerable as he had ever been. And now, finally, he allowed himself that vulnerability.

Brooke felt Castiel slowly lower the wall between their minds, so that they were once again connected. And he allowed her, finally, to feel the fear and doubt and instability that he was feeling. Feelings that he had been pushing down from day one of this crazy plan with Crowley. He allowed himself to be as close to human as he had been in a long time, and he allowed her to witness it.

After some time, wrapped in his arms, she pulled, gently, away from him, and saw, with shock, that he was close to tears. His eyes were red and watery, his face distorted a little from trying to hold himself together. The tears were as much for causing her pain as they were related to his own confusion and anger over this plan about Purgatory.

"Castiel," she whispered, and touched his face with the gentleness of a mother to a child.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking as she had never heard it, hardly above a whisper. "This will be over soon," he continued. "I promise. Please, just… just wait a little longer."

Tears still fell from her eyes, but most of her sobs had calmed. She closed her and brought Castiel's forehead down to her own, the familiar move they made to comfort one another. Wordless thought flowed between their minds for a minute or two, as they breathed in tandem.

And then, Castiel unfurled his wings and teleported them away, holding Brooke close to him. She opened her eyes and saw that he had taken her to Bobby's house. She lay, bridal-style, in his arms, and he gently lowered her to her feet.

"I have to go," he said, touching her face.

"I know." Her voice was calm, for Castiel was, once again, hers. He still had to go through with his plan, but he had let her into himself in a way that he had not for over a year. And now that she knew him—all of him—his fears, his doubts, his self-loathing… she was complete, for she accepted all of him.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, sweetly, at first, and then with more passion, pouring himself into her through that kiss. And then he was gone.

###

Brooke spent the next several days and weeks lying to Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Lying through her teeth, and hating herself for it. But her loyalty, above all others, was to Castiel, as it always had been. She hated lying to Dean the most. Dean, who, out of all the others, most deserved to know the truth, for he was the one, next to Brooke, who had the closest connection to Castiel. Saw the angel as a friend, as a brother. As family. And Brooke told him nothing.

They questioned her, of course. Were suspicious of her, most likely. They all knew that she had Castiel were connected telepathically. But the last time Bobby had seen Castiel and Brooke together, he had seen Castiel sever that connection. Brooke simply pretended that Castiel had never brought the connection back. "Why else would he sever his mind from mine unless he didn't want me to know something?" she had asked, trying to convince them that she knew nothing of whatever his plans were.

"Yeah, but you've been connected to him for years," Sam had piped up. "You're telling me you don't know anything… about anything?"

"Look, just because we're mentally connected doesn't mean it's impossible to keep secrets," she had said, and had been sickeningly surprised at how easy it had been to come up with some lie on the spot. "Like ninety-eight percent of Cass' thoughts are in Enochian, which I can't understand."

Dean had eyed the Enochian tattoo on Brooke's arm. "Can't understand, huh?" he had said, looking up at her.

She had scoffed at him. "This? This is one word. It's Cass' name. Cass' brain doesn't work like a human's. He's got thousands of thoughts all going at once, and it's all just shoved into my brain like I'm standing next to a jackhammer. He's loud, but not very easy to understand." It was easy to lie, Brooke realized, because it was half-true. That was, basically, what being inside Castiel's head was like—or that's what it had been like, in the very beginning. Of course, now, with part of the angel's Grace in her blood, and all the time spent near him, his thoughts had become easier and easier to distinguish, to understand, to sift through. And she was quite fluent in Enochian at this point. But Sam and Dean and Bobby did not know that, and they didn't need to know.

Mainly, they had left her alone after that, including her in their conversations about Castiel and what to do with him. Pretending to be innocent of what Castiel was up to, however, became increasingly difficult as he began to spy on their conversations. No one could see him. No one but her. He could not truly hide himself from her, even if he wanted to, because she contained part of his Grace within her body. Perhaps he could have remained physically invisible to her, but she would have been able to feel him. As it was, she could both see him and feel him—and she had to pretend to do neither.

###

"Look, Dean, he's our friend, too, okay?" Sam said, as they all stood around Bobby's kitchen. "And I'd die for him, I would, but…" Sam sighed. "Look, I'm praying we're wrong here."

Brooke remained silent, staring at the floor, doing everything within her power not to stare directly at where Castiel was standing.

"But if we ain't wrong," Bobby said, "if there's a snowball of a snowball's chance, here… that means we're dealing with a Superman who's gone dark side, which means we gotta be cautious, we gotta be smart. And maybe stock up on some kryptonite."

###

And so, they went on. Searching for Crowley, who did not want to be found. Looking for demons where Castiel had already killed them.

And all the while, Brooke began to break under the strain of lying to her friends.

And all the while, Dean began break under the strain of wishing so hard that his best friend was not the monster that he was beginning to think he was.

So, one day, finally, they all agreed to call Castiel down to them. To simply ask him if he was working for Crowley. To ask him if he wanted to open Purgatory. Brooke was terrified, but she went along with it. She, as much as the others, had no idea how this would go. Would Castiel finally just tell them all the truth? And, if he did, would they accept it, as she had? Or was she the crazy one, for having accepted it in the first place?

That was her biggest fear: that she had placed Castiel before all others, and that Castiel would turn out to be the monster all along.

But she buried that fear way down deep inside herself and pretended that she had never let the thought in at all.

But Castiel, visible only to Brooke, did not show himself. Not truly. And Brooke could feel the fear in his own mind: How would he ever explain himself to them—

—The demons came from nowhere, hidden even from Brooke, somehow. And hidden, apparently, from Castiel, as well.

Brooke was taken by the front of her shirt and thrown so hard into a wall that the Grace in her blood and bones screamed and rushed about the back of her skull to protect it. She was mildly dazed, even still, and in the meantime, the demon who had attacked her pulled a fist back and punched her in the face. She screamed as her nose broke, but blindly put her hands out to shove her thumbs through the demon's eyes.

Castiel pulled the demon off of her and killed it with holy light, and went around to the others to do the same. Then he returned to her and placed two fingers upon her forehead, and her nose was healed, and the dizziness in her head was gone. He looked at her for a moment, and from his eyes and his mind he told her: Say nothing.

And she understood. Yes, she agreed.

And they turned, as one entity, hand in hand, to face the others. And suddenly, right then, it was Brooke and Castiel versus Sam and Dean and Bobby. All at once, she had become one with the angel, and outcast from the humans, without even realizing that she had done it.

Dean was picking himself up off the floor. "It is good to see you, Cass," he said, with a genuine smile, so happy to see his best friend. So willing to believe that Castiel was not doing anything secretive or wrong.

"Yeah," said Sam. "Perfect timing, Cass."

Castiel said, "I'm glad I found you. I come with news." His mind was scrambling for anything to say, to explain why he was there, what he'd been doing.

"Yeah, what?" Dean asked.

"I firmly believe that Crowley is alive."

Brooke did not change her face, her expression, her stance. But in her head, she said, Weak. Too weak.

Castiel acknowledged her critique, but it was too late to take the words back.

Surprisingly, and to both their relief, the others took the line that Castiel had fed them. And then they apologized for ever having doubted them. And Castiel smiled and forgave them, and inside, his heart was breaking. Brooke squeezed his hand until her knuckles were white, trying to give him strength. The plan, she reminded him. Raphael.

And he remembered, and he accepted what had to be done, but it did not make lying to his friends—his family—any easier. It was so difficult, in fact, that Castiel felt he had to keep talking, to build up this friendly banter just to keep himself from falling apart. "It is a little absurd, though," he said. "Superman going to the dark side."

Brooke closed her eyes.

"I'm still just Castiel," the angel said, with a smile.

Brooke shook her head, the tiniest amount. Cass.

Dean was smiling, but it did not reach his eyes. "I guess we can put away the kryptonite, right?"

Castiel—

"Exactly," Castiel replied, with a smile.

Stop talking.

Castiel glanced at her, hearing her for the first time over the sound of his own desperation to be loved once again. What?

You just gave yourself away, you idiot. They know now. They know you've been spying.

Castiel realized his mistake, then, and he stared around at the three humans who now looked at him with glazed eyes and forced smiles. The illusion of his happiness shattered. "I have to go," he said, and disappeared, leaving Brooke at the mercy of the other three.

"Superman," she murmured, not really looking at them.

They all stared at her.

"He's been spying," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper, unable to look the others in the eye.

Dean walked up to her slowly. "Have you known about this… the whole time?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Brooke closed her eyes again, taking a shaky breath.

"Answer me!" His voice sliced through her.

"You have to understand," she whispered. "He's doing this to save us all…" She opened her eyes, and saw that the three men who were looking back at her gazed at her like strangers. She had lost them, just as Castiel had.

###

"Call him!" Dean yelled.

Brooke shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

"So help me, Brooke," said Dean, "if you weren't a girl—

"Hit me, if it'll make you feel better!" she screamed. "I'm a Hunter, not some civilian! But if you want answers from him, then call him yourself!"

Dean continued to stand an inch from Brooke's face, and when he called Castiel's name, she jumped at the loudness of his voice.

Castiel appeared, much to Brooke's surprise, but she did not have time to even react to his being there before Dean had grabbed her roughly by the arms, spun her around, and shoved her as hard as he could towards Castiel.

Instinctively, the angel lunged forward, down the steps, and caught Brooke in his arms. And then Brooke felt heat surge up all around the both of them. Holy oil. She had not known about this part of their plan, for if she had, she would have warned Castiel to stay away.

They had poured the oil while she had gone outside, at some point, for some air. It had not been a great four hours.

And now she and Castiel were trapped in a circle of holy fire. Brooke could, maybe, leave without getting severely injured. But they had never tested that theory, and with part of Castiel's Grace in her body, there was a chance that crossing the flames could kill her the same as it would an angel.

Castiel gently pushed Brooke upright and she stood, breathing raggedly, beside him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, staring around at the three men who had, at one time, been his friends. "I can explain. Please. This is not necessary."

"How long you been spying on us?" Sam asked.

"And how did Crowley trick you with the wrong bones?" Bobby added.

Castiel stared at them all. "Please, just let me out, and I can—

"You gotta look at me, man," Dean said, interrupting him. "Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley."

Castiel stopped his fidgeting and stared Dean in the face, but he could not lie anymore. Not so directly. Not now that he had been caught. After a moment, he broke and looked away.

Brooke stood beside the angel to whom she was forever bonded and listened as he begged and tried to explain, listened as the others threw question after question at him, listened and watched as any trust they had ever had—for either of them—disappeared.

And then the demons came, raining down around the house with such force that it shook the foundations.

"Run!" Castiel yelled at them all. "RUN!"

And they ran—Sam and Dean and Bobby.

Dean stayed, for a moment longer, and stared into Castiel's eyes, into Brooke's eyes, and then vanished out the door.

Castiel, knowing that there was a chance that Brooke could die trying to cross the holy fire, grabbed her and held her tightly in his arms, shielding her with his body. But the shaking stopped soon after the three humans had left.

And in walked… Crowley. He smiled, his eyes lingering on Brooke for a moment too long. "Playing with fire again?" he asked, and snapped his fingers. The holy fire was extinguished.

Castiel let go of Brooke and began to march towards the demon. "If you touch the Winchesters…" he growled.

Suddenly, Crowley was standing very close to Brooke, who stumbled away from him, disturbed to be so close to a demon who had been standing ten feet across the room a second before. But Crowley had simply been avoiding Castiel's reach. He did nothing to her.

Castiel turned to stare at him.

Crowley smiled again. "Please, heard you the first time," he said. "I promise, nary a head on their artfully tousled heads. Besides, I think they've proven their point for me."

Castiel reached for Brooke and pulled her behind him, away from Crowley. She was not offended by this chivalry; Castiel knew that Brooke was strong and could handle herself. But Crowley was… Crowley.

"It's always your friends, isn't it. in the end?" the demon went on. "We try to change, we try to improve ourselves. It's always our friends who gotta claw into our sides and hold us back. But you know what I see here? The new God and the new Devil working together." He glanced around Castiel's body and looked at Brooke, winking. "And the Whore."

"Enough," Castiel growled, slowly approaching Crowley. He stopped inches from his face. "You stop talking, and get out of my sight." He said the words slowly, deliberately, and with barely held-back rage.

Crowley looked as if he'd swallowed something thorny and poisonous. Still, he pressed on, always needing to get the last word in.

Brooke stopped listening to him, but she could not help but hear his last words, right before he walked out the door: "What are you, Castiel? And what, exactly, are you willing to do?"