Side Project
K Hanna Korossy

It would take a while to sort through the flood of "pop culture" Metatron had forced on him, and there were many subjects such as South Park and Paris Hilton that Castiel could find no use for. But he had also already learned something valuable. Whether it was Radar O'Reilly using his connections to procure rare items in a war zone, or Jack Ryan accessing secret material on government computers, there were numerous examples available for how to use human resources to attain information.

And most of them did not have a high-tech command center at their disposal.

"Castiel." He looked up from his study of the room to give his attention to Leah. "Zipporah and Hosea report that the Metatron sighting in Venice was a mistake."

He nodded at her and watched the angel—his follower—as she returned to her station before he retreated to his office.

He had an office now. And followers who were not warriors to be led into battle. It was…difficult to grasp.

Castiel shut the door, pausing a moment before going to his desk.

The equipment they had was already set up to search for one face among the billions on Earth. It was not difficult to turn a small part of that effort toward a different being.

He only hoped Gabriel would continue to use the same host.

Spellwork had been no help, nor the usual methods to find a fellow angel. Archangels were not the same as the rank-and-file, of course, but still, Castiel had tried. Now, however, he also had facial recognition software, and access to every visual recording device in this country and many others, and equipment that searched through the photographs on various social media websites, looking for glimpses, mentions, hints.

Looking for a being who was, most likely, dead.

The Gabriel whom Castiel had interacted with recently had been a creation of Metatron, some sort of fictional reality with which he'd tried to manipulate Castiel. He knew that, of course. And tried not to think about how it had accomplished its purpose in convincing Castiel to become a leader.

But there had been something about that Gabriel, something so familiar, something that seemed beyond even Metatron's imagination and skills. And it had made Castiel wonder if his trickster brother had not actually succeeded with his greatest trick of all.

His computer informed him, however, that the latest search had come up empty. Castiel sat back in his chair with a human sigh. He had hoped…

He was worried about Dean. The Mark he had taken upon himself exuded ominous power. Sam had confided earlier that day that his brother had told him he understood Sam's addiction now. The Winchesters were clearly God's chosen, and if they fell, Castiel did not have much hope for the rest of them. They could really use an archangel, one who also cared about humans and was not imprisoned in the Cage. Which only left one very possibly deceased being.

Castiel instructed the computer to start yet another search, and watched for a minute as it obeyed. Then, making a decision, he turned the screen off and opened the left drawer of his desk instead.

One of the searches he had performed had not been for an individual, but for a ritual. It had found more success: the rite was untried but promising, designed especially for archangels. Its intention had been to find Michael and Lucifer when they were ready to face each other, but it should also work for Gabriel. The only reason Castiel had not attempted it earlier was because it took considerable grace, and his supply was limited. But desperate times called for desperate measures, as one human had so aptly put it.

Castiel got to work, laying out candles and a map of the planet that would have made no sense to any human. Belatedly, he thought to flick the lock of his door on, shut the blinds, and put his cell phone in the drawer he'd just emptied. Then he got to work.

Ten minutes later, to his surprised relief, he had a location. And it was only about an hour away by car.

00000

It was…a film studio.

Not just any film studio. Metatron had clearly partaken of the more…inappropriate corners of popular culture, too, because Castiel recognized this name from the memories the Scribe gave him. Casa Erotica Studios only generated pornographic movies.

Castiel found himself caught between hope and dismay. Was this another joke of a trickster who was alive and crafty? Or was this merely another ridiculous dead-end?

He'd just taken a step toward the peeling front door when it opened.

The woman who walked out was one Castiel believed Dean would have appreciated. Her proportions were within the range pleasing to humans, slender yet well-rounded, and her clothing covered little of her. In all, she seemed very appropriate to such a place.

She paused in front of the door as he approached, hands tucked behind her with seeming demureness and her lip caught between her teeth. Her body language suggested flirtation, but considering his one sexual encounter had gone very badly, there was no temptation for Castiel here.

"Castiel," she said, her voice throatier than he would have thought.

The fact she recognized him, however, immediately raised his hopes. "Gabriel?" he asked uncertainly.

She laughed. "Donna, actually. But I was expecting you."

He shifted his weight just enough to feel the sword press against his leg. "Why?"

Donna took another step toward him, her body swaying far more than seemed necessary. "The 'one you're looking for'? He isn't here. And anyway, Cas-tee-el, he's a messenger, not a leader. He's staying out of this one." Another step, and she was close enough to touch, which she did, drawing a finger along the buttons of his shirt. "But I'm supposed to tell you, the advice you got, it wasn't bad. You should follow it." One of her eyes conspicuously closed and reopened; ah, a wink. "And you two might still meet again someday."

"How did you—?"

"That's all I got, honey." She seemed regretful, touching his chin briefly before drawing back. "Unless you wanna come in? I love an audience."

He felt his face heat. "Uh, no. Thank you. If you should see…him again…"

Donna shook her head. "Yeah, I don't think so."

"Yes, well. I'll just be…" He pointed back toward his car. "Thank you."

She smiled, red lips wide. "Anytime, honey. And I mean, anytime."

Skin ridiculously aflame, Castiel quickly got into the car, nearly drove it into the curb, then finally managed to pull away without striking anything.

He tried to clear his head as he headed back to headquarters. He hadn't seen Gabriel. The message he'd gotten was vague, and could be another of Metatron's tricks, or even an old message predating Gabriel's death. The ritual had pointed to here, but even that could have been doctored, designed to lead him to this place. The fact was that he did not know anything new for certain.

And yet, Castiel found himself oddly encouraged as he returned, ready to throw himself with new conviction into the role he'd inherited. Almost as if he'd truly had a brush with an archangel.

Maybe…

The End