FIC: A Mighty Dark Night - Chapter VI

[blue_fjords]

Title: A Mighty Dark Night
Author: blue_fjords
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word length: ~74,000
Warnings: violence, language and sex
Summary: Detective Dean Winchester meets Homeland Security Agent Castiel James over a corpse.


Chapter VI
Trying to beat the devil to the old crossroads

Birdsong woke him from a dream about dancing waffles the next morning. He'd been up every couple of hours, padding through the bathroom to check on Cas like Doc Corman had instructed and praying the other man wouldn't awaken. His eyes felt clogged with sand and he blinked blearily at the stain on the ceiling before the events of the past few days all came flooding back to him: Cas, Chinatown, Meg, Uriel, Cas, Anna, the money trail, Cas, Ruby, Gabriel, Ronald Reznick, Cas, kissing Cas, the weight of Cas on top of him, sex with Cas. Dead Meg, dead Meg, dead Meg. He groaned aloud and fumbled for the alarm on the nightstand. His gun was there, and he usually slept with it beneath the pillow. He closed his eyes as he remembered that, too.

The digital time read 06:00, and he had quite the commute to look forward to. He groaned again and scratched absently at his chest. Something sticky had dried - oh, fuck. He'd fallen asleep with dried come on his stomach. Rookie mistake.

He was just getting out of the shower when his cell rang.

"Do not come into the station this morning, kid." Rufus.

"Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine." Dean fumbled with a towel, securing it around his waist.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean, how did you sleep last night? Sweet dreams, I hope?" Rufus's voice was laced with sarcasm, but Dean flushed anyway, thankful his partner couldn't see him and the large hickey at the meeting of his neck and shoulder.

"Yeah, it was just me and that bottle of Johnny Walker Blue you've got in your bottom drawer, hanging by the pool and checking out the bikini models."

Rufus snorted into his phone and Dean reflexively pulled the receiver from his ear. "Sure, kid. What did you talk to Henriksen about last night, huh? Gordon is spitting rocks over here."

"Henriksen told me I needed to play nice with Gordon." Dean frowned into the medicine cabinet, looking for some deodorant he'd left there, but only encountering Sam's. "That's why I'm coming in, though I could get a lot more done-"

"Change in directive. The shit has really hit the fan in that murdered Homeland Security case. Henriksen's getting involved personally, and he just told me to keep you the hell away from Gordon and the station."

"Why?" He reached for his toothbrush. It was red and covered in racing cars, a practical joke from when he and Sam had visited at Christmas. Better than the Barbie one he'd given Sam, at least.

"Well, golly gee, Dean, could it have anything at all to do with those escaped prisoners you weren't looking into, at a time when you most certainly don't have an alibi? One's dead, one's back in custody and the last one vanished into the ether. But of course that's not news to you, now is it?"

"Uh…"

"I'm your goddamned partner, Winchester. You tell me this shit."

"I know, Rufus, and I'm sorry-"

"Ha!"

"-but I have my reasons, and you do not need this mess. You're retiring."

"Dammit, Dean, I'm not retired yet! I'm still a fucking detective, remember?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and banged his head on the mirror above the sink. "Yeah, I remember."

"Good! Why are you hip-deep in this shit, anyway, kid?"

"Um…" Dean's mind raced. What on earth could he possibly say? You know how I'm a straight horndog? Well, turns out I'm not actually one hundred percent straight! Who'd've thunk it? And the dude I had sex with last night, I don't know how I feel about him, but he's eliciting actual feelings, isn't that a scary thought?

"Oh, shit. It's the chick you were asking me about the other day. You got into her pants."

"Jesus, Rufus."

"Who is it? Someone connected to this case… Wait a minute. Dean. Hell no. Do not tell me you fucked the escaped prisoner! You stupid sack of-"

"Of course not, God! I'm not a traitor!" He could hear Rufus breathing heavily on the other end of the line, trying to get his composure back.

"Good. That's good," Rufus said finally. "But if it's not her…"

"It's none of your business!" Dean glanced nervously at the closed bathroom door that opened into Cas's room. "Come on, Rufus, drop it."

"Hey, you're the one who asked my opinion."

"I know, I know. But I don't want to talk about this now."

"You're in bed with her right now, aren't you?" Rufus sighed. "Okay, fine. Call me later. About the case we're working on."

"I will, Rufus, promise. Oh, and Rufus?"

"Let me guess. You need a favor. Please tell me it has something to do with the Crowley case, or Narcotics in general."

"I was just thinking about how you were a detective, not retired, and was wondering if you wanted to look into one of Crowley's lieutenants. You remember Tyson Brady? See if he has any connections to a woman named Lilith, what he's doing now, et cetera."

"You think Brady's moving up the chain of command?" Rufus sounded interested, despite his annoyance.

"It's possible."

"And you're not going to tell me how you know this."

Dean shot another glance at the bathroom door. "I'll tell you eventually."

"Good enough for me. I'll focus on Brady. Stay in touch, Baby Winchester, and don't come in."

"I heard you. And, Rufus? Do it quietly. He may be the one behind that DHS agent who bought it outside West Hyattsville."

There was a pause. "That's just peachy. Gordon's going to froth at the mouth if he finds you kept that from him."

"Hey, I'd drop him a hint, if I could come into the office."

Rufus snorted into the phone, graceless and loud. "You just keep your nose clean, and I'll keep my head down, and maybe by some miracle we'll both survive this clusterfuck."

"Yeah. Later, Rufus."

Dean ended the call and frowned down at the phone in his hand. Henriksen wanted him to stay away? Sounded like Gabriel Smecher had been throwing his weight around. At least Dean could still call in to work and lean on those resources, and he had the support of his superiors, not like Cas, cut off from all his supposed brothers.

The bathroom door opened, and Cas paused in the doorway.

"Heeeeey," Dean said, voice trailing off into an awkward silence. Cas's eyes swooped over his bare chest before focusing on a point over his shoulder. Dean stood straighter. He may have never had sex with a man before, but this was the second time Cas had walked in on him in a towel and by God, Dean was not going to be embarrassed by it. "Bathroom's free. There's a Kermit the Frog toothbrush in the medicine cabinet - it's new."

"Thank you. I used my finger last night."

Dean had nothing to say to that, and left the room, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Detective Dean Winchester did not get flustered after a one-night stand. Detective Dean Winchester was a fucking adult and a professional. So he had fucked around with a man he worked with! He could act like nothing had happened. It was easy. And just one time did not make him gay, right, so there - gay freak-out neatly avoided. As long as Cas followed his cue. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above Sam's bureau. His hickey was the size of Texas. Fuck my life.

He found an old University of Maryland hoodie in the back of Sam's closet and pulled it on. It was his best bet to hide Cas's mark, but the knowledge of it burned as he finished getting dressed, surveyed his sheets for the ickiness factor, decided against changing them, and stomped down the stairs.

Bobby looked up at him from the kitchen table. Just one look, and Dean knew he knew. Bobby looked back down at his cup of coffee and cleared his throat.

"I've got lots of raccoons on this property. Hope their banging and clanging didn't keep you up last night, son," he said.

Dean nodded, accepting the out, and made a peace offering of scrambled eggs. Bobby was on his second plate when Cas joined them.

"Here, take my seat, Agent James," Bobby greeted him. "I've got to go into Frederick this morning, pick up some parts." He waved aside Cas's protests, forcing the younger man into his chair. "Make sure Dean whips up some fresh eggs for you now. Boy can cook."

Dean leaned against the counter, watching Bobby root around for a set of keys, choose a different trucker cap from the hook by the door and eventually leave with a, "Don't burn the house down," called back over his shoulder.

"You don't have to make me eggs, Dean," Cas said, looking down at his hands.

"I like making eggs," Dean muttered. "What do you like in them?"

Cas shrugged. "Everything."

"We've got mushrooms and cheese."

"That would be very nice."

Dean turned his back on Cas and began shredding more cheese. God, are all of our conversations going to be like this from now on? Why is this so fucking awkward? I've cooked this same breakfast for dozens of women, many in this same kitchen.

"I understand that you do not wish to discuss what happened between us last night," Cas said, breaking his reverie. "I will respect your wishes, though I wanted you to know that I do not regret our actions."

Dean froze. Dangling bits of cheese fell from the grater and into the bowl with a soft plop.

"Jesus, Cas. It's really bad timing."

"Is there ever a good time?" Cas asked, lips quirking just a bit.

"And I don't - I'm not." Dean sighed and picked up a mushroom. "I don't have sex with men." He didn't dare turn around.

"I was an experiment." If he tried really hard, Dean couldn't hear the hurt in Cas's voice. He didn't reply. The eggs sizzled loudly in the frying pan, popping and bubbling along with the cheese, the mushrooms growing darker and softer. He was feeling close to calm and composed by the time he scooped the mixture out and onto a plate for Cas.

A statue with ice blue eyes looked up at him as he approached. Something he hadn't realized had been growing inside him shriveled up and died at the look in Cas's eyes.

"I removed the tracker from my phone," Cas said, as if their conversation from last night had never been interrupted, "but Uriel was expecting that. He had me followed, I believe from when I left Anna's building, if not before. The men I suspect work for Lilith followed those agents to me. Uriel may have made a pact with this Brady, but they clearly did not trust each other."

Dean also excelled at being cold and hard when the situation called for it. The situation called for it. "How much of what Uriel was doing with the prisoners did you know? Why was he going to let them escape?" He leaned forward. "You told me you thought Lilith and her group went beyond drugs and prostitution. Who the fuck are they?"

Cas's eyes narrowed. "I am Homeland Security. Who do you think they are?"

Dean stiffened. He hated to even think it. Fucking terrorists.

"I am sure Uriel thought he could convince them he was on their side, and stop them that way. Uriel believed that the end always justified the means." Cas took a bite of his eggs and chewed slowly. "No doubt Anna told you of the events that led to her leaving the Agency." Dean grimaced and Cas continued. "I have since re-evaluated that time, and the only conclusion I can draw is that Uriel shifted blame onto Anna because she has always had a curious mind, coupled with ambition. If she had stayed with Homeland Security, I am sure she would have soon outranked him, and not being partial to his methods, she could have put a stop to him."

"That was years ago, Cas. Uriel's been off-leash that long?" Dean raised an eyebrow. That was… that was disappointing. Cas stiffened in his seat.

"I assure you, Uriel never colluded with terrorists before. He has protected this country. Though I was rather blind to my brother's true nature, I admit that."

"At least until his goons tried to rearrange your face." That scored a direct hit.

"I contacted you, Detective Winchester! I reached out for your help, have you forgotten? And one of my sisters still died."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're blaming Rachel on me?" he snarled in Cas's face. "I never even met the woman!"

Cas leaned back in his chair, deflating a bit. "You misunderstand me. Rachel died because I contacted you, but the fault lies with me, not you."

Dean blinked. Cas's mood had changed again, from awkward to cold fury to icy calm to depressive self-blame. "That's bullshit," Dean said bluntly. "According to Uriel, Brady pulled the trigger. You were right to come to me."

Cas gave him a long, level look. Searching for sincerity. He nodded slowly when he found it. "Thank you, Dean." He looked back down at his plate and the remains of the scrambled eggs. "Rachel and I were friends. I can only assume that is why she volunteered to be on transport duty. She was not the… altruistic sort." He laid his fork carefully on his plate, tines down. "We had a meeting, two days ago with Raphael, to go over the transfer." He held up a hand to forestall Dean's question. "We were not having luck getting answers out of the prisoners. They were being moved to a facility with agents who are skilled in interrogation. The only reason they were at that building in Chinatown was to maintain their cover - we didn't want Lilith to know we had them. Meg and Ruby typically inhabit such places. And as for Alistair, care needed to be taken, due to his diplomatic ties."

"Back up for a sec - 'agents who are skilled in interrogation'?" Dean quoted softly.

Cas met his eyes and nodded slowly. "We are Homeland Security, Dean. There are certain… regrettable things I have done to maintain the safety of this country. 'Right' and 'wrong' are seldom easily distinguishable."

Dean could see that, lurking in Cas's eyes. He reminded Dean suddenly of Anna, her bright optimism chipped away over the years until nothing but bitter resolve remained. But though his eyes were ancient and sad with the weight of the things he'd seen, Cas wasn't there yet. There was still something whole and strangely innocent at his core. Dean was overwhelmed with the desire to keep it safe and clean.

"I understand, Cas," he said simply. Words just weren't his strong suit, but he must have been able to convey a part of what he was feeling, because Cas took a deep breath and sat up a bit straighter to continue the tale.

"The meeting we had. It was just me, Uriel, Gabriel and Rachel. Uriel said something then that I can only assume was why Rachel went looking for you later that night. I don't know what she was coming to tell you. I don't even think she was looking for you." He whispered the last sentence, shoulders slumping a bit again, and Dean frowned.

"Do you, uh, possibly think she was coming to meet with someone in Crowley's camp?"

Cas shook his head vehemently. "Rachel was rigid in her beliefs. She would never betray this country."

"What else was she doing there, then?" Dean asked.

"In disabling the tracker in my phone, I was also hidden from the rest of my brothers. And I was not answering any calls from Homeland Security."

"I still don't get it. What happened to finally tip you over the edge? And do you know why Rachel was in PG County?" Dean was getting a headache. Cas couldn't tell a story in a straight line, and there were too many balls in the air. Bad choice of words.

Cas sighed. "I overheard Uriel asking permission from Raphael to arrange a tail on you after the transfer, and from the way they laughed, I knew there was something wrong about the transfer. I asked a contact of mine to tail you while I followed Uriel. Rachel wasn't present for this. She went to Hyattsville because she expected to find me there with you."

Dean crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting.

"Uriel made a derogatory comment of an explicit sexual nature in regards to my relationship with you. He said this to me in our transfer meeting. Rachel overheard and drew her own conclusions from that."

Fuck. "What'd he say?" Dean asked, jaw tight.

"It is of no import, Dean. I am the only living person who heard it. Let it go."

Dean stared at him. He couldn't let it go. Nothing about the case was making sense. But sex, sex always made sense to him. How could he have possibly fallen off the rails with this? And how could so many people have seen what he hadn't figured out? And why the fuck was it clouding his judgment when he needed to be at the top of his game? Cas stared right back at him, challenging him. Dean could tell him he'd been wrong. He could change his statement, say that he didn't have sex with men, except for Cas. He could say that he trusted Cas, liked working with him, was developing fucking feelings for him. Or he could let it go and portray a cool, professional demeanor. Get the job done, no strings attached. Dean shifted in his chair, and his phone rang. They both flinched.

"It's Gabriel," Dean announced, his heart still pounding. "Speaker?" he offered as a courtesy to Cas. It was all he could do for the moment. Cas nodded.

"Dean-o. Tell me you've got my brother stashed someplace safe and he's not bleeding out on the floor of your no doubt sketchy apartment."

"I am perfectly safe, Gabriel," Cas said before Dean could respond.

"Ah, Castiel, good to hear your gravelly monotone. Enjoying your stay with your little-"

"Is there a reason for this call, Smecher?" Dean interrupted, scowling at the phone.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Winchester. Listen, your Detective Gordon - though an arrogant little prick - has found some surveillance footage that's going to help exonerate Castiel for Rachel's murder. Uriel didn't have time to get his meaty paws on it, and Raphael has been distracted with other things."

"Well, that's good news," Dean said, silently thanking Metro Ruby. He glanced over at Cas, who was still frowning at the phone.

"What is the catch?" Cas asked.

"The, uh, other things Raphael has been distracted with. I hadn't noticed how close he and Uriel had grown - Raphael really has it in for you, bro, and he has Zachariah's ear."

"Well, that's just peachy." Dean stood up and began to pace. "What kind of power does Raphael have? What's he up to? And who the hell is Zachariah again?"

"Number Two. As for Raphael, he has the authority of being a rung above us, plus he's laid a paper trail connecting Castiel to Alistair, and Alistair is backing him up. I should have killed him rather than take him into custody," Gabriel muttered. "It's going to take me awhile to unravel."

"But you believe in my innocence?" Cas asked. He was sitting ramrod straight, hands clasped between his knees as he stared intently at the phone.

"He'd have to be more of an idiot than I already think he is to believe you capable of betrayal," Dean told him. Cas met his eyes and Dean couldn't look away.

"Aw, that's sweet, truly it is," Gabriel said. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to it while I go do the real work."

"Fuck off, Smecher."

"Thank you, Gabriel," Cas said with a hint of rebuke. Dean reached out and ended the call.

"I can't say that was especially helpful," he grumbled. "You're persona non grata at Homeland Security. Tell me something I don't know."

Cas's shoulders slumped, and Dean inwardly cursed his big, stupid mouth. It was like kicking a puppy. A stray puppy, with big eyes and a head tilt-

"Anyhow," Dean continued, clearing his throat. "We got a little off track there. Why did Uriel decide to go after you? Even if he thought we were fucking-" He managed to get it out without stumbling over the word, give him a cookie. "How did that affect him? Do you think he thought we were working together, or that you wouldn't go along with his plan in Chinatown?"

Cas gave him a level look for the 'fucking' comment. "I suspect that Uriel decided I was no longer firmly in his camp when I disabled my tracker, and the agents he sent were to be more of a persuasive force than a violent one. They were not expecting Lilith's men to be following them, however."

Dean's heart rate increased as a surge of anger shot through him as he recalled the bruises on Cas's back. "Didn't exactly go smoothly, now did it?" Cas remained silent, and Dean tamped down on his anger, trying to focus. "The Mall's a very public place, Cas," he said after a moment. "I mean, if I was going to kidnap someone, I wouldn't do it in the shadow of a national monument."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cas murmured.

Dean's eyes widened at the attempt for a joke, but Cas just gave him a look like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"And they did not kidnap me from the pond," Cas continued. "It was, as you said, a very public place. I did not wish any harm to befall the civilians around us. They broke my phone, but I allowed the agents to lead me away. That area is full of government buildings, as you know, so they forced me into a van." Dean had to admire the calm way Cas conveyed the events, almost as if they had happened to someone else. The tightening around his eyes was the only indication that he was not quite as detached as he seemed. "They brought me to a building in Anacostia, and that is when Lilith's people made themselves known."

"But on the phone, at the pond, you said Lilith's people had found you."

"Yes. I was to meet an informant who had files from one of Lilith's side businesses - financial records, possible locations, people Lilith is blackmailing, perhaps. When she did not show, I believed myself to be compromised. The only reason Lilith's men attacked my abductors was to get to me, to find out how much I knew."

"And your informant?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "What happened to her?"

Cas hesitated. "She can be… slippery. I have not been able to call her since then to ascertain either her whereabouts or her current level of health."

"Great. So you set Godzilla and Mothra against each other and got away, but our link to Lilith is twisting in the breeze somewhere."

Cas winced, his hand going to his ribs in what Dean was sure was an unconscious move. "I can get another message to her in twenty-four hours. It's our standard policy if we miss a meeting. She will contact me then, if she yet lives."

The shaky breath he drew belied his calm pronouncement. The nice thing to do would be to tell him it wasn't his fault, and the Sam thing would be to throw in a hug, but Dean didn't trust himself. If he put his arms around Cas, he wouldn't be able to let go, and something he had never acknowledged out loud would see the light of day. Therefore he could not afford to be nice.

"Good," he said gruffly. He began to gather the plates and silverware from the table. "You should be back in bed. I'm going to clean up, then I have an appointment at noon in Northeast."

"I do not need additional rest."

Dean snorted. "They beat the shit out of you yesterday, Cas."

"That did not stop you last night!"

The plates fell with a clatter, thankfully into the sink. Dean's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, but he wouldn't have been heard anyway, as Cas continued, raising his voice.

"And you do not wish to talk about it due to your own sense of confused sexuality. Okay, I won't make the mistake of desiring you again. But, Dean, you cannot deny that we have a bond here. Not just sexual, and not just from this case. I saved you in Chinatown, and you saved me. Do not send me to bed as if I were a child."

He turned and left the kitchen, the dramatic exit only somewhat spoiled by his shuffling gait. Dean watched him go, taking a steadying breath. Shit, shit, and fuck. He scrubbed at the frying pan and the little curls of egg still sticking to the bottom. The front door slammed, Cas making good his Great Escape.

Dean's best relationship to date had been with a woman named Cassie. 'Best' was a loose term. He had thought it could have a future, but it hadn't. She didn't like that he was a cop, and he couldn't stop being one. Before Cassie and after Cassie were just a string of one-night stands, all women, a few of which he would even hesitantly call friends, like Anna. But no one he really confided in. No one he would expect anything from, or who would expect anything from him. And that's what had been in Cas's voice. Disappointment.

He slowly dried his hands on a dish towel.

The screen door rebounded loudly against the doorframe as he stepped out onto the porch. When he and Sam were kids, they used to read comics on the porch swing, Dean keeping them in motion with one leg on the ground. Cas sat there now, the old swing creaking its protest, and looking completely out of place with his stiff posture. He ignored Dean lowering himself to the porch steps.

"I'm a bit of an asshole, Cas," Dean said finally. Cas grunted. "I don't know what I'm doing here," he tried again. "I don't mean just you and your… you-ness. I mean everything with this case, and the looking over our shoulders all the time, and…"

Silence descended on the porch, broken only by the occasional squeak of the swing. Dean sucked at apologies, Sam always told him so, and he couldn't think of a thing to say to Cas that he would both definitely mean and wouldn't sound like a Hallmark Moment. He was just starting to think that he should get up and go, when Cas spoke.

"If I were a better man, I would regret getting you involved in this."

Dean swiveled around to get a better look at the other man. Cas was watching him, typically intense.

"But I am not. I am glad you are here."

Dean looked away first. From his perch on the steps, he could see down the dirt road, cutting through fields of thick meadow grasses and wildflowers. The Salvage Yard was at his back, behind the house, and the barn jutted up on his left. He'd spent every summer of his youth hiding in the fields, or the yard, or the barn. Nothing much had changed, apparently.

"You remind me of this friend I had when I was a kid," Dean said. "He was always optimistic that I'd be a better person than I was. I'm not, Cas. I don't mean to let you down, but I'm going to at some point."

"I think I can be the judge of that," Cas said dryly.

"No, you don't get it," Dean argued back, and dammit why was he bringing up Jimmy now? His memories of Jimmy were very carefully buried, and for good reason. "He, ah…"

"Did you have sexual relations with him?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

"Jesus, Cas!" he yelped.

"Well, I don't understand why you are telling me this, and considering your hang-ups, I thought maybe that was the connection."

"Okay, look - when we were fourteen, he told me he wanted to. With me. And I pushed him away and never talked to him again. So see? I'm a terrible person." Dean looked resolutely out at the fields. He'd played tag football with Jimmy in those fields for several summers, before The Thing.

"You sound like you were a child, Dean, not a terrible person." Cas sighed. "I don't wish to downplay the effect your actions may have taken on him." Dean finally looked up at him, wondering what it must be like for him, even in this day and age. Surely Uriel had made other taunts at his expense over the course of their partnership. He'd probably thought he was insanely funny, the funniest agent in the department. "But I speak from experience when I say that these things do not have to forever ruin an individual."

The moment stretched out between them, a moment that covered more than half of Dean's lifetime, before he finally nodded and let his breath out in a loud puff.

"Thanks, Cas," he mumbled.

"I merely corrected your erroneous assumptions," Cas replied. Dean snorted and climbed to his feet.

"Eighteen years of guilt over how I treated Jimmy, and you absolve me in two minutes. We should have a heart-to-heart about how I feel over killing Meg, I could do cartwheels afterwards."

"You wish to have a heart-to-heart over Meg?" Cas asked with a puzzled frown.

"Nah. I should have something to feel guilty about, even if it's for not feeling guilty that she's dead." He held out his hand and pulled Cas out of the creaky swing. "Besides, I'd miss the nightmares."

"You are a very strange individual, Dean."

"That's why you love me," Dean responded automatically, and froze. Shit! Brain, speak to the mouth! SPEAK, dammit! "It's just an expression," he stammered.

"I am aware of it." Cas opened the screen door and gestured for Dean to enter first. "Now, about your meeting at noon today-"

"Yeah, fine, you can come," Dean interrupted him. "I'm going to see the dude who hacked into your file for me. The two of you will… actually, you'll probably hate him. He's an odd duck."

"Various people have called me an odd duck, too," Cas said. "I have found it wise not to dwell on what other people say."

***

Dean parked the Impala outside Ash's rowhouse a little before noon. The interior of his car was filled with the glorious scent of Roy Rogers, causing Cas's nose to wrinkle against the smell. Dean barked a laugh as they climbed out of the car.

"No wonder you and Sammy got along so well. He hates that I eat this shit." Dean gave the fast food bag a little jiggle. "Mmmm, I can smell my arteries clogging."

Ash himself greeted them at the door with a loud, "Is that my fried chicken?" and a massive double-take on seeing Cas.

"Dude! Dude!" he yelped. "Dude, that's the dude who - dude!" He stuttered, poking at Dean's arm. "What's going on, dude?"

"Cas, the articulate dude is Ash, hacker extraordinaire and connoisseur of fine foods. Ash, you already know Agent James."

"Huh? Oh, that agent."

"I think it would be prudent to move this conversation indoors," Cas said with an irritable twitch of his shoulders. Ash flashed Cas an obsequious grin and flattened himself against the wall, letting the two of them go first down the stairs to his apartment. He was still staring after Cas with wide eyes.

"What is with you?" Dean hissed at Ash. "I was expecting you to quiz him on government conspiracies or submit to a search or something, not for you to become a quivering puddle of fanboy goo."

"Dean… he's The Man. You have to put up a front for The Man."

Dean paused mid-step, holding out his arm so that Ash bumped into it and stumbled. Cas paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking up.

"We're going to get this straight right now," Dean declared. "Ash. Cas is not here in an official capacity. He's not going to take you into custody or steal your toys. You are expressly forbidden to poison his food, or tie his shoelaces together, or anything that harms a hair on his head. Capiche?"

"I wasn't gonna do anything!" Ash protested. "Much," he mumbled under his breath.

"Well, I'm saying we're on the same side. Don't fuck with him."

"All right, all right! What about him, you gonna tell him not to fuck with me?" Ash gestured broadly at Cas, almost hitting Dean in the nose.

"I assure you, I have no intention of fucking with you," Cas said, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Ash a look that, yeah, Dean could interpret as meaning 'I will fuck your shit up.' Awesome.

"There will be no fucking going on whatsoever," Dean stated, ignoring the glint of amusement that suddenly entered Cas's eyes. "We're going to feast on the sustenance Mr. Roy Rogers has kindly provided for us, and then we're going to work together to unravel a… clusterfuck."

Ash moved past Dean with a toss of his mullet. Cas didn't move from in front of the door, subtly crowding the other man as he fumbled for keys and unlocked the many locks on his apartment door. Dean shook his head. He should've left Cas at Bobby's. On the other hand, having him here might cut through some of Ash's crap.

"Okay, Ash," Dean said after Ash finally got the door open and was locking it again behind them, "what's this thing you wanted me to see in person?"

Ash cut his eyes at Cas. "It might shock your G-Man."

Cas just looked at him. Ash led them into his office, muttering under his breath, and plopped himself with a loud huff into his desk chair.

"Okay," he said, punching some keys and pulling up a file, "you know how I said, way back when you first gave me this, that I would start with the babes and then look at the dude? Well, the dude got a whole lot more interesting last night." He poked a finger at his screen. "This is a record of all calls coming into the Romanian Embassy for the past three days. In your G-Man's file, Alistair Drac was a Romanian diplomat. But after his arrest, there were no phone calls between Homeland Security and the Romanian Embassy. I traced the numbers. They order from Flippin' Pizza, they call home a lot and the Ambassador has a weekly chess game with the Nigerian Ambassador. Can you explain that, G-Man?"

"The thrill of chess is a worldwide phenomenon," Cas stated.

Ash paused for a moment and then burst into laughter. "Okay, okay, G-man, you can stay," he chortled, grabbing for a Roy Rogers bag and shoving some fries into his mouth. "'Worldwide phenomenon,'" he quoted, spraying potato on his screen.

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed for a few fries himself. "You thought he was with the Romanian Embassy, didn't you, Cas?" he asked.

"Yes," Cas said, frowning at the screen. "And I'm sure Gabriel thinks so, too. I tried to get in to see them about Alistair, but Raphael kicked it up to Zachariah and my request was denied." Dean and Ash exchanged a glance. Dean hoped the other man could keep his mouth shut about exactly how much of Cas's file they had already read. "Negotiations at that level are considered rather delicate. Arresting a diplomat is just not done, there are international treaties in place to protect them. When we took Alistair, Zachariah had to deal with the fall-out."

"So the Number Two agent is definitely in on it," Dean murmured. Cas scowled at his feet, no doubt dwelling on how much his brothers were a bunch of dicks. Dean tore his gaze away from him and focused on Ash, watching the two of them with narrowed eyes. "Hey, you," Dean said, cuffing him gently on the side of the head. "If he's not a Romanian diplomat, you have some idea of who he actually is?"

"Dude! Careful of the hair!" Ash protested. "And of course I do. I don't even think he's Romanian." He punched a few more keys, and the phone log minimized to be replaced with a grainy video feed. "This here is from the hard drive of the late hero, Ronald Reznick."

Cas started and Dean shifted on his feet and crossed his arms, pursing his lips. Reznick was still a sore point. There was a bit of an awkward silence before Cas sighed. "I take it this will explain why Ruby and Meg were sent to kill him."

"Yeah, I'd say so. Believe me, I'm very glad you have this animal in custody."

Dean shot Cas a quick glance.

"You do still have him in custody, right?" Ash asked.

"You know that stuff I said I had to tell you?" Dean began. "Well-"

"You're shitting me!" Ash jumped up from his seat. "Oh, man! Fuck! We're dead men, Dean!"

"Calm down, you freak!" Dean yelled at him. "We got him back." He waited until Ash was sitting again before mumbling, "Except you just told us the head guy holding him is probably corrupt."

Ash snorted. "You never fail to bring the excitement, Dean-o. Do you remember that time with those hookers-"

Cas cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can watch this ever-so-incriminating video now."

"What he said," Dean chimed in, fighting against a squirm. It wasn't like Cas was his… something. But he really didn't want Ash to tell him about the hookers. That they hadn't actually paid for, but still. Not his most honorable moment.

Ash maximized the screen, and the scene unfolded. It was the interior of a warehouse, dank and dark. Someone's harsh breathing, presumably Ronald Reznick's, filled the speakers. Footsteps sounded from offscreen, approaching the right side of the screen, and brought light with them. Both Dean and Cas leaned forward as crates were revealed.

"What's in the-" Dean started.

"Patience, my son," Ash intoned. "All will be revealed."

Dean grunted and turned back to the screen. Alistair moved into view behind the man with the light. Dean frowned as the man's face moved out of shadow. "Tyson Brady," he whispered. "Crowley's lieutenant."

Cas nodded, eyes fixed on the crates. Dean kept one eye on him, and one on the screen. The content of the crates was the crux of the matter, even more important than Uriel's motivations or who Alistair was working for. What did it matter if it was Alistair or Lilith who rained terror down on DC, to those who were getting rained on? Cas licked his lips and moved a step closer to the screen as Alistair pried open the lid on one of the crates.

There was a cooler inside, they saw as Brady lifted it out. He carried it very carefully to a plain wooden table in the center of the screen.

"Well?" Alistair's voice came out in a nasal drawl. It was an ugly sound.

"As you can see, it's what you ordered," Brady replied. "Feel free to check the other crates. I wouldn't want to give you a reason to distrust me, Drac."

"Brady, I'm offended. We're all to be one big happy family now, didn't you get the memo?"

Brady gave him a smile that was so smarmy, it even registered on the grainy video. "I don't need a memo! Any friend of Lilith's is a friend of mine."

Alistair gave him an answering smile, full of sharp teeth. "Lilith is on schedule. See Crowley about your payment."

"I intend to. Congress won't even know what hit them for at least a couple of weeks." Brady pried open the other two crates. The sound of Ronald Reznick's breathing got louder as the camera zoomed in on the cooler. Dean, Cas and Ash all leaned closer so their noses were nearly pressed to the monitor.

"Niveus," Dean whispered. "What is that? Cas?"

Cas had taken a step back, his face going pale.

"Cas?" Dean asked again. There was a sound from the video, out of Reznick's camera range, and the screen went black. "Cas! Do you want to share with the class? You know what that stuff is, don't you?"

"It's… it's not supposed to exist. It's an abomination." Cas took a shaky breath. "I must contact Gabriel immediately."

"That's great, but what is it?" Dean reached out and grabbed Cas's arm before he could leave them with that cryptic statement. "No secrets, Cas, come on."

Cas licked his lips. "Several months ago, we received intel that a pharmaceutical company in New Jersey was developing a slow-acting chemical agent that, when dissolved in a water supply, would begin to cause hallucinations, followed by severe nausea and finally bleeding from the eyes and death."

Dean's stomach twisted. "Well that sounds awesome. How the fuck did this stuff get out?"

Cas shook his head, scowling. "It didn't, Dean. Production was shut down, the chemical safely destroyed."

Ash snorted. "I bet." Both Dean and Cas glared at him. "Hey, I'm being serious! I'm sure the DOD has a dozen chemical weapons ten times worse than that. Why would they want competition, and on American soil?"

Dean gave him an exasperated look, but he didn't miss Cas's appraising glance at Ash. Great. The Department of Defense's modes of mass killing was not something he particularly wanted to think about.

"If it was destroyed, how'd it get on ol' Ronnie's video?" he asked. "Ash, when was this shot?"

"Week before Ronald died. So six weeks ago."

"Then that would make it… after the plant was shut down?" Dean asked, turning to Cas. "How do you know it's the same place?"

"Niveus. It was the name of the company," Cas said. "Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I must call Gabriel now." He reached into his pocket and paused. Dean raised an eyebrow, waiting. "Dean. My phone is defunct. I need to borrow yours."

"How'd Alistair get his hands on supposedly destroyed chemical warfare, huh?" Dean asked, leaning back against a counter and making no move to hand over his phone. He was almost amused by the look of consternation on Cas's face. No secrets meant no fucking secrets.

"I do not know, Dean. Perhaps Gabriel will be able to find that out. But he won't know to look until I call him. So give me your phone." His voice got even lower and gruffer when he was angry. Dean found it was difficult to tear his eyes away from Cas's lips. They could use some Chapstick, but he knew firsthand how soft they could be. And how bruising. "Dean. I am not deliberately keeping something from you. But I must warn Gabriel, and he must check to see if the water supply for Congress has already been contaminated."

Dean felt a twinge of guilt for letting his personal pissing contest sidetrack him for a minute. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled, handing over his phone, but Ash beat him to the punch.

"No, dude, use one of my phones, then it can't be traced." He led Cas to a corner of the office and set him up with a phone apparatus that looked unnecessarily complicated.

Dean hitched his shoulders, trying to refocus. Brady was more thoroughly mired in this than he had thought, and Rufus needed to know.

Rufus picked up on the first ring. "Quit bugging me, tadpole."

"What does that make you, the ugly-ass bullfrog? Whatever, old man, listen up. Brady is extremely dangerous-"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"And he's planning something huge against, uh, our big brother." He paused for a minute. Was Ash rubbing off on him, or was he just becoming a paranoid freak? "Look. Be fucking careful. Can you get out to Bobby's tonight with whatever you have?"

"You inviting me to dinner?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's a date." Did he just imagine it, or did Cas look over from his spot in the corner at the word 'date'? He'd probably imagined it. "Later, Rufus."

Cas hung up with Gabriel as he approached. "Raphael sent a team to New Jersey to close down the plant two months ago," he said, his voice strained. Dean's stomach dropped.

"I'm sorry, man," he said. Shit, should he give him a comforting shoulder squeeze or something? Sorry your brothers are either incompetent or total traitors, let's get naked. Dean shifted his feet. Cas was watching his mouth, waiting for what he'd say next, and without thinking, Dean licked his lips.

"Whoopsy-daisy!" Ash exclaimed as he dropped his half-full cup of Dr Pepper in Cas's lap. Cas immediately sprang to his feet, ice tumbling to the floor, and made a grab for the fast food bag and the napkins contained therein.

"Dammit, Ash, you klutz!" Dean chided him, his heart racing, and used his own napkin to blot at Cas's pants. They were an old pair of Dean's jeans he'd left at Bobby's years ago, faded and soft and oh-so-familiar. It took Dean a moment to realize that he was mere inches away from fondling Cas's crotch, and when he did, he snatched his hand back, hoping Ash hadn't noticed.

"Sorry about that, Cas," Ash apologized.

"These are not my clothes," Cas responded. Dean couldn't tell what he meant by that - were they therefore not important? His shoulders tensed. He had enjoyed seeing Cas in his clothing, much to his chagrin. "Where is your restroom? Perhaps I can save them. They are very comfortable."

"Down the hall and on the right." Ash waited until Cas had left the room before rounding on Dean. "Dude!" he hissed. "When were you going to tell me you were boinking the spook?"

Dean gaped at him. "What?"

"Don't give me that innocent look, Dean-o! I am Ash the Wizard! I can always ferret out sex." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're the bottom, aren't you?"

"Ash!" Dean squawked. "What the fuck, man? Were you paying attention to anything that just happened? Chemical warfare on U.S. soil, ring a bell?"

"Yeah it sucks, but your sex life is an awesome distraction. I bet you'd make for a bossy bottom," Ash mused.

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean glanced at the door, half-expecting Cas to be standing there, but the doorway was still clear. "First, no one's fucking anybody," he lied, "and secondly, why the hell do you think I'd be the bottom?"

Okay, he hadn't been planning to ask that. Ash raised his brows at him.

"Dean. Do you need to borrow my copy of The Joy of Gay Sex?"

He'd fallen into the Twilight Zone, that was all there was to it.

"I do not need sex advice from you," he said firmly.

"Suit yourself." Ash shrugged his shoulders. "But I'm gonna tell you something whether or not you want to hear it. That dude?" He inclined his head towards the hall. "Is really into you." Ash finally lowered his voice. "So I think he'd be a good one to have get into you, know what I'm sayin?"

"And here's what I'm saying: fuck off, Ash." Dammit, his face was on fire. What was he, twelve? That was the last time he'd been embarrassed about sex.

When Cas walked back into the room, Dean's eyes immediately flicked to his crotch. Checking for Dr Pepper, he told himself, but really remembering the weight of Cas in his hand from last night and imagining just what that would feel like inside of him. He gave himself a shake, and caught Ash leering at him.

Dean cleared his throat. "Okay. We need to try to figure out when this thing's going to go down." Fuck, what if they'd already started? "Cas, how long does it take to work?"

"The first symptoms appear two weeks after first exposure, give or take a day. I doubt most people in the Congressional buildings drink from water fountains. Most of the exposure would be through hand-washing, which may take longer." Cas sighed. "It is not easily traceable, Dean. We won't be able to tell what water supplies have been contaminated until people start hallucinating."

Dean suppressed the urge to shiver. Fuck. "But after it starts. Is it curable?" Cas hesitated and Dean's stomach fell to his shoes. "Cas?"

"It's possible, Dean." Their eyes met and held. "But the antidote was manufactured by the same company. If they were willing to sell their goods to terrorists, my confidence is not high in the effectiveness of their cure."

"Really?" Ash asked. "'Cause I was betting they made this killer drug, right, and then they secretly poison shitloads of people, and wow, look, we just happen to have a cure! And we'll sell it to you for all the gold in someplace that has a lot of gold. And they make out like bandits." Ash leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on a counter. "Hell, it's the plot to every spy story ever. How can you not know that?"

Cas glared at him, but Dean forestalled him. "We don't need any conspiracy theories, Ash, the real thing is bad enough."

"Dean is correct," Cas declared, and Dean fought the urge to preen at the praise. "We should focus on how and when they plan to attack Congress. Is there anything more in Mr. Reznick's hard drive?"

Ash rolled his eyes. "Why are you asking me? Didn't you take his shit when you covered up his murder?"

Cas shifted his stance, just a miniscule change, but he seemed to loom over Ash, and even Dean could feel the menace in his gaze.

"Stop it, both of you!" he barked. "We're on the same fucking side - remember it!" He waited until both Cas and Ash were giving him their undivided (sullen) attention before starting again. "Obviously there was nothing about this on the drives that Cas had access to. And let's keep in mind that Cas was not responsible for Reznick's death."

Ash sighed, his feet falling from the counter to the floor with a thump. "I'm sorry, man. I just get irrational about poor Ronnie. I don't mean to attack your bosom buddy." He stuck out his hand. "Whaddya say, G-Man?"

Dean really, really wanted to strangle him, but Cas hesitated only a moment before shaking Ash's hand. "I, too, do not mean to cause aggravation."

"Awesome. Now before we all turn into Care Bears, how do you think Ruby and Meg knew Ron had this on tape?" Dean asked.

Ash shrugged and rolled his chair across the floor to the empty fast food bag, his fingers poking hopefully at it. Dean ignored him, focusing instead on the crease between Cas's eyes. "Well?" he asked.

Cas didn't meet his gaze. "I doubt they knew, Dean. If they had, Ronald Reznick's place would have been utterly destroyed as they searched for it. Instead, they disappeared as quickly as they had come. I no longer think we can presume that Ruby and Meg knew of its existence. The murder was accomplished with speed and naturalness over, and nothing was disturbed."

Dean's heart began to pound. He wanted to ask a question. The cop in him wanted to ask it. But the part of him that'd been all sharing and caring with Cas on Bobby's front porch that morning wanted the cop to shut up. He was saved by Ash asking the question.

"So how'd you know to get to Ronnie's?" Ash had found a couple of fries that had fallen out of the bag, and he sprayed potato when he talked. "You were there right after them."

Cas sighed. "Dean-"

"Shit," Dean interrupted him. "You're going to tell us something you should have told me earlier. Aren't you?" Cas glanced at him through his lashes, his face unreadable. "Do you get off on being so mysterious?"

"No," Cas snapped. "But you seem to - get off - on accusing me of deliberately hiding everything from you. Not everything is a personal affront to you, Dean."

Dean flushed and took a step closer to Cas. "And when it's something I've asked you about repeatedly, like Ron?"

Cas also took a step closer and Dean had to stiffen his knees to avoid stepping back. For all that he had an inch or two on Cas, the other man had a trick for looming, and he employed it now. "You should trust me, Dean."

Dean stared at Cas's mouth as his lips moved. It was easier than meeting his eyes, but only just. "Cas," he started. The thing was, he did trust him. But that didn't mean he didn't want to know. He swayed forward, dangerously close, and felt Cas's breath warm against his wet lips.

Ash cleared his throat.

Dean jumped back as if burned. Fuuuuuuuuuck. He ran his hand through his hair to calm himself while Ash smirked and addressed Cas.

"Not that that little scene y'all were playing out wasn't the best damn entertainment I've had in months, but I think I've figured it out." He burped. "Wow, that was loud. And not what I figured out. You knew Ronnie, didn't you?"

Cas's eyes narrowed. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

Ash shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe I was inspired by watching you two try not to tongue-fuck each other."

"You're the epitome of wit, Ash." Dean was proud of how level he sounded, despite having come very close to tongue-fucking Cas right in front of his friend. He needed to get a grip and concentrate. "Well, Cas? Did you know Ron?" He held up his hand to forestall Cas's angry retort. "I do trust you, man. But if we're going to figure out if Ron had more info, it would help if we knew more about him." He met Cas's gaze and held it for a drawn-out minute. Finally Cas nodded.

"I did know Mr. Reznick. I was there because he had asked me to come. You are right, Ash, when I found him dead, I did take copies of his hard drives, and the camera that recorded his death. I was unaware that a copy was automatically transferred to the hard drive you had."

Dean took a breath and counted to ten, letting it out slowly. "I trust you have a good reason for keeping this a secret."

"Mr. Reznick was one of at least a dozen murders I can lay at the feet of Meg and Ruby, Dean. In all the times I spoke with him, he gave no indication that he knew who they were, or, indeed, that he knew anything of any real terrorist plots against this country. I met with him because there was no harm in him." Cas paused for a moment, as if choosing his words with some care. "Usually, when we are approached by citizens who share Mr. Reznick's beliefs, they are quite antagonistic to us, or much too ingratiating. Mr. Reznick was always courteous, despite his wild notions. That is why I continued to talk to him. He was a good person, and did not deserve what happened to him."

"Well said, man," Ash said quietly, sniffling.

"So when I approached you about Reznick…" Dean started.

"I thought it a most unfortunate turn of events that in investigating me, you stumbled across what I thought to be a wholly unrelated matter."

"One in which you came out looking like a douche." Dean gave him a half-smile to half-take the sting out of his words.

"Yes, Dean, I looked like a 'douche'." Cas used air quotes on 'douche' and Dean snorted, shaking his head. How the hell did Cas manage to enrage him so soundly, before turning around and endearing himself to Dean with stupid air quotes, all in less than an hour? The smile faded from his lips, though, when Dean caught Ash giving him a sly wink with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. Dean coughed into his hand.

"So! Why do you think Meg and Ruby killed him, if they didn't know that he knew… what he did know?" he asked, glancing back at the blank monitor.

Cas sighed. "I don't know, and it's not something they answered when we had them in custody. I left the original hard drives at Mr. Reznick's house in the hopes that we could catch his killers coming back to steal them. But no one ever did."

"We have to have the answer here, then!" Ash sat up straight in his chair and rolled along the counter to a laptop with a Looney Tunes screensaver playing. "These are the emails Ron sent and received in the week leading up to his death. Let's divide them up and see if there's any connection to the ninja assassins."

Ash set them up on two of his other computers and assigned a third of the emails to each of them. Dean raised his eyebrow at getting bossed around by Ash and clicked on the first one in his batch, muttering under his breath.

Ronald Reznick kept up a lively correspondence with a Deacon in Georgia, all about ghosts. Dean snorted and relegated those to the 'snowball in hell' pile. Reznick had a series of emails with a woman name Callie on the subject of bedtime stories and their importance to… Dean blinked, clearing his head, and put them in the 'too boring to deal with' pile. His eyes slid over to Cas, peering intently at his own screen. Dean tracked the tapping of his fingers on the keys and the furrowing of his brow. What the hell was it about Cas that got underneath his skin, stealing his concentration and making him trust the man, despite a pile of reasons not to?

"I believe I have something promising," Cas said, and Dean started.

"About the case," he said out loud.

"Of course, Dean." Cas gave him a measured look.

"Well don't hold us in suspense!" Ash exclaimed. "Out with it."

Cas pointed at his screen, and both Dean and Ash leaned in to get a closer look. "Mr. Reznick sent a message to his neighbor, asking if he was all right."

"And that's weird why?" Dean asked.

"Look at the email signature. His neighbor is a maintenance worker at the Capitol."

It clicked then. "You think they were using this neighbor? And what, Reznick was killed for asking questions?"

"It's possible," Cas said, nodding. "His death would also serve as a form of intimidation to Joel, the neighbor."

"Scumbags!" Ash hissed.

"We should probably pay a little visit to Joel," Dean said. Cas was already copying down the address. "Ash, see if there's any other communication with this Joel character."

"I want to go, too!"

"It's not fucking safe, Ash!" Dean glared at him. "Stay here." Ash was giving him his most mulish look and Dean shook his head wearily. It seemed like everyone lately was determined to disregard his extremely reasonable commands. "Okay, fine! Jesus. You need to get out of the house and do something? Gather up the shit you need and head to Bobby's. We'll have a big-ass info exchange there tonight. It'll be like the fucking Boy Scout Jamboree."

"I'm not a Boy Scout," Cas interrupted.

"It'll be like a bunch of batshit insane men, shooting the shit and getting hammered while trying to solve horrific crimes."

"I doubt Bobby has enough alcohol to get me hammered," Cas murmured.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Will you shut it, Cas?" He turned back to Ash. "Just go there, okay? And we'll let you know what Joel says."

"Okay, Dean-o." Ash laid his hand on Dean's upper arm. "For truth, justice, and the American way. You too, G-man," he added, nodding to Cas.

Cas raised an eyebrow, but inclined his head. "Come along, Dean," he said, already leading the way out of the office and down the hall. Dean swallowed his first response.

"You were the one who was being all literal and shit," he muttered under his breath. He probably should have swallowed that response, too, as he bumped straight into Cas's back.

"My apologies," Cas said stiffly.

"Dude," Dean began, and was saved having to make a further response by the ringing of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. He didn't recognize the number. His thumb hovered over the 'ignore' button.

"Who is calling?" Cas asked.

"On my phone?" Dean shot him a sharp glance, which softened at the expression on Cas's face, anxious and hopeful at the same time, but trying for cold nonchalance. "I don't know it," he said hurriedly. "202-555-2327."

Cas grabbed the phone. "Ms. Rosen?"

Dean blinked. An indecipherable screechy voice issued forth from his phone.

"Are you safe? Where are you?" Cas asked.

Dean's lips formed the word 'who,' but Cas just raised his hand in a hush gesture and turned his back on him. Well, then.

"It is all right, Ms. Rosen. Detective Winchester and I will be there in twelve minutes."

Dean frowned. What the hell?

The Peanuts-cartoon voice squawked once more before Cas terminated the call and handed the phone back to Dean.

"We must pick Ms. Rosen up before we see Joel," he informed Dean.

"Oh, must we?" Dean's eyebrows were threatening to climb clear off his forehead.

"Yes." Cas turned to climb the stairs.

"The hell, Cas!" Dean exploded. "What the fuck were we just talking about? You going to tell me who this Ms. Rosen is? Where is she? Where are we taking her? How the fuck does she have my number?"

Cas did not even pause on the steps. "I was planning to tell you on the way. It would save time, and time is quite precious for the continued well-being of Ms. Rosen."

Dean swore under his breath and followed after him. Cas did not speak again until he was buckled into the passenger side of the Impala.

"We are going to a Starbucks on New York Ave, Northeast," Cas said. "There we will meet Ms. Rosen, my informant. We will be taking her to a hiding place belonging to her boyfriend."

"Your informant into Lilith's group, seriously?" Dean started the car. Of course New York Ave was in the wrong direction of this one-way road. "How the hell'd she know to call me?"

Cas hesitated. "I may have forwarded my emergency number to your phone. Only Ms. Rosen has that number."

Dean was very tempted to let loose with his annoyance over yet another thing Cas hadn't told him before, but he stopped himself, counted to five, and said, "I'm honored that you trust me with receiving your emergency messages."

It was a good call, as Cas gave him one of his rare smiles.

Drove him to the coffin like a hammer and a nail