The door creaked when it was removed from its hinges. Sam lifted the bulky thing and set it next to the brick wall, intending to replace it once his partner was inside.

"According to Bobby, you only got thirty minutes before security and or the killers come to check out this section. I have the live feed and security codes already running back at the van." Sam whispered into the cold chill of night. Dean nodded his understanding. He then started into the building but was stopped by a hard weight on his arm.

"One more thing Dean," Sam breathed, "be careful." Dean's smirk implied his obvious retort and seemed to highlight his growing confidence.

"Cake." came his reply. Then, after a beat, "Or pie, whichever they have at the store. Have it ready for me by the time I get back." and with that Dean disappeared into the dark depths of the art museum, not waiting for Sam to give him the all clear.

The hallway was short and Dean found himself already across and reaching for the handle of the door. This was it. Four years and counting the Winchesters had been tracking the bastard, and this was their last chance. Being covert had its advantages, but in this case, made hunting down Azazel a real bitch. He would pop up on radar for a few days only for Dean to get there right before he would get cut from the signal. Hours of tracking wasted for a trail that seemed to have no end. This wild goose chase was ending though, and it was ending tonight.

Dean pushed open the door only to be greeted by a soft hum of music and an even lighter tone of conversation spilling from the room below. He was about three yards from the balcony, easily out of sight. Dean heard the gruff sound of Sam in his ear then, a bit loud and caused a slight jolt through Dean.

"Okay, in two minutes the security camera in the hallway to your left will go dead. Take the hallway to the end, the staircase should be unguarded."

"What floor does it have him on?" Dean whispered back into the receiver.

"Third, but he's making his way down. Intercept him before he reaches his targets." Dean checked his watch, and slowly began inching toward the hallway on his left, making sure to stay out of view of the patrons below. Slinking against the wall, he checked his watch again. 5-4-3-2-

"Go now." Sam directed from his ear. Dean pulled open the door to the hallway silently, slipping inside. The hall was still clear, meaning the speech from the host was about to start. If all went to plan, Azazel would be taken care of long before the speech came to a close.

"Take the stairs, then a sharp right into a study chamber." Sam commanded. Dean did as he was told, making sure to stay light on his feet and check the area once more before bending to pick the lock to the wide black door. They were french doors, massive, and booming with obvious expense. When the lock clicked under Dean's pick, he slithered inside, making sure to tuck away the door with precise care.

"He's in the library. Two paces to the right, twenty minutes before the security line get tripped." Dean slid to the next door. Here we go. Dean drew his gun and clung to the wall next to the door. He took a breath, then another. Then, in one swift movement, pulled open the door and ran inside. A shot was fired but missed him by inches. Dean tried to focus. The Library was vast and dim. There was a quiet beep coming from somewhere in the room, but Dean didn't take the time to try and locate the source.

"Third Row," came a shaky Sam. Dean headed in that direction, gun still drawn and pointing out. His heart was racing and him mind was muddled, but his senses were clear and true. Instinct took control of his limbs as he pounced into the third row. Nothing.

"Sam?" Dean asked as quietly as he could.

"ABORT ABORT! DEAN, GET OUT OF THERE!" The harsh tone of Sam voice made Dean clutch his ears in pain, but before he could understand the command, an explosion came from behind him, sending him off into the nearest book case. Sam's voice was running a mile a minute through the ear piece but the signal was shaking from the impact. Dean lay on the ground, trying to clear the pain from his mind. He quickly recovered and searched the room, taking no time in walking lightly. There was still a pain in his head, and Sam was still trying to get through. He felt warmth spreading on his right arm, probably from the fall, and his ears were still ringing. Dean sprinted around the corner just in time to see the light from the door cease as the door was closed. The group from below didn't even notice the small explosion from the thick and sound proof walls that covered the property. He still had time to get this right.

When he entered the hallway that lead to the stairs, he jumped, swinging himself with the help of the railing, landing perfectly on the second floor. Azazel was no where in sight.

"Sam! Sam can you hear me? Has he made it to the first floor yet?" No response. Damn, looks like he was on his own for now. The security feed probably caught Dean on his way back through the hallway, but Sam could take care of that later, as long as the guards were still tied up in the control room. When Dean was back by the balcony, he immediately stopped running and leaned over to scan the crowd.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, furs and tuxes covering every body, and the classical music filled the vast space. The art on display was fantastic, worth millions at the least, though any member who had received an invitation was sure to be able to afford any selection from the artist's collection.

Azazel was no where in sight. Well, thought Dean, time for plan B. Dean then began stripping himself of his equipment and dark clothing to reveal a simple black tuxedo. The painful gash on his arm hopefully wouldn't show through the material. Dean then went back to the door he came in, stuffing the attire though the door. He moved back over to the balcony and looked down once again, just in case he could maybe get a glimpse of the murderer, but just then, a man stepped onto the stage in front of the audience. He hit his champagne glass a few times, before everyone went completely silent. The man then cleared his throat, ready to give his speech.

So this was him, Dean thought to himself, the victim, or one of them at least. Poor bastard. Dean was about to turn from the sight and pursue the criminal from the crowd, but as the man on stage began speaking; he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. His voice was gruff, and deep, not at all what Dean would expect based on his appearance. However it seemed to match him nonetheless. He was wearing a simple tux, and his hair was a little out of control. It was hard to see at this distance, but Dean was sure his eyes were blue. They were so bright and vibrant it would be hard not to notice no matter how far away.

The speaker paused a moment, seeming a bit lost in his speech, and then his eyes went straight to Dean. The instinct side of Dean demanded he get the hell out of there, but the man's blue eyes locked him in place. Something turned in Dean's stomach under the scrutiny. Then the eyes were back to the audience, as if they had never left, continuing on with his kind words and thanks.

Dean then sprung into action, remembering what exactly he was there for. He made for the stairs and descended undetected due to everyone's attention on the blue-eyed man. Dean took the time to observe the crowd. Azazel would make his mark at the end of the speech. That was the plan if Dean and Sam had gotten the correct information. However the killer would have to be close to distribute the poison to his targets. Dean balled his fists in frustration and anger. He was running out of time. Just then his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden clapping from everyone in the room.

Dean's heart sped in his chest thumping until all he could hear was its pulses. He couldn't move. Only his eyes kept darting through the crowd. And then he spotted him. Azazel was in a tux as well, but one lavishly decorated appearing to be of royalty. A massive flare of anger again pulsed through Dean, and just as he was about to stalk across the room, a voice in his ear drew him back to his body. The voice was not Sam, though.

"Are you enjoying the display?" The voice said. Dean spun his head, only to be faced with the blue-eyed man from the stage. It only took Dean a moment to find himself. The knowledge that he had not failed calmed his core and set him more at ease.

"Yes, the artist is incredibly talented." Dean replied if slightly distracted.

"I like to think so-" there was a brief chuckle from the man. "Are you looking for someone?" The blue eyed man asked (and yeah, really blue) detecting the shuffling Dean. Dean decided in an instant.

Yes! I am, could you possibly direct me to..." Dean took a moment to search his mental files for Azazel's cover name. "Lord Dashwood?"

"Ah, Lord Dashwood. I don't really know him all to well but I have heard great things about him. Is he a friend of yours?" Dean nodded yes, and then scanned the room again, Azazel was gone.

"He's speaking with Lord Henry." The blue-eyed man pointed Dean to Azazel off in a corner, appearing caught up in conversation but Dean could easily see that he was being watched. An idea struck him.

"Do you know where the artist is? I am also looking for him... to… to congratulate him." the question wasn't as graceful as Dean would have liked, however it got the man to laugh.

"You mean Castiel? Well I'm sure he's around here somewhere... probably talking with an undercover secret agent, knowing him." Dean sucked in a breath and tensed.

"You're the artist." He addressed the first obvious thing.

"Yes, I am. And thank you for the kind words. And you are?" Castiel asked with mild amusement. Dean kept his eyes on Azazel, and he could tell Azazel was doing the same. Dean decided to drop the façade.

"Look," Dean whispered, turning his full attention back to Castiel and dropping his proper sounding speech. "If you know what I am then you know someone here is not safe. That person is you. Come with me, I can protect you." There was slight desperation in his tone, he knew that, and his eyes were pleading, but he needed Castiel to understand. Dean had moments before everything was going to fall apart. Castiel opened his mouth to comment but the only sounds just then were the screeching of a siren with compatible red flashing lights. He had moments. Castiel covered his ears at the sound, and people began bustling around hurriedly, trying to make it outside. The room was suddenly turning into chaos. Voices picked up, bustling turned into running, and when Dean turned back around, Azazel was gone. Dean had a feeling all of a sudden. He looked around the room frantically. This would be Azazel's perfect chance for a poison dart. Dean had to decide, either go after Azazel, or save this insignificant man's life.

Dean grabbed the arm of the artist, and after barely any protest, was dragging him back up the stairs. Navigating though the crowd proved challenging but eventually they made it to the stair case. Dean pushed Castiel in front of him, protecting the man's back. Castiel went willingly and was running up the stairs. Guards were closing in on the crowd, Dean noticed when he turned back to look over the balcony, after the pair had made it to the top. He was directing Castiel to the door Dean had come from, only to find it was locked. He took out his lock pick, commanding Castiel to crouch next to him, away from the crowd. Castiel ignored him and pushed Dean aside. At first Dean was confused, shocked, and worried, but that only lasted a moment because Castiel was taking out a pair of keys from inside his suit jacket. Dean turned back toward the balcony, keeping an eye out and making sure Castiel wasn't in a vulnerable position.

The door clicked and before Dean could turn around; he was being grabbed by the arm and pulled through the door. The hallway was now bright white and two guards were standing at the exit. Dean grabbed his clothes he had discarded earlier, and then handed them to Castiel.

"One minute." He said. Dean charged at the guards. Their guns were raised but Dean was fast enough in the short hallway to knock the weapons from their grasp. It only took a few skilled hits for the guards to be unconscious. He then signaled for Castiel to follow. When he opened the exit, he noticed Castiel wasn't behind him. Dean looked back over his shoulder to see Castiel standing there, staring at the bodies Dean had just knocked out, frozen in his place.

"Castiel, I know what this looks like, but you gotta trust me now! There is a man in there that will kill you. If you get away now, he will find you if you are with anyone other than me. I can keep you safe, but you have to come now!" Castiel's eyes slowly drew up from the bodies to meet Dean. Dean suddenly got that same turning in his gut he did when he was met with Castiel's stare earlier.

"Please!" Dean snapped Castiel out of it, and he was soon running toward Dean, Dean's clothes still bundled in his arms. Dean let castiel out first, and shut the door behind them. Dean grabbed Castiel again, and the two of them made for the van across the lot. The fence still separated the Van from the museum's property, but just as Dean was about to start climbing, Castiel took out another key and opened the lock, only taking a few seconds to do so, trying to balance the clothes in his other hand. He then let both of them through before locking the gate again. It was a dead sprint to the van. Dean looked back toward the entrance to the museum to see red and blue flashing all around. There was a helicopter above that almost spotlighted them, but Dean pulled Castiel out of its path just before it hit him. Dean looked over his shoulder once more, frozen in his step. There, behind the gate, was Azazel, a weapon in his hand starting at the two of them. Dean turned back to Castiel.

Then they were at the Van. Dean knocked four times as fast as possible, before the back door slid open. Dean dove in, dragging Castiel with him, all the while never letting go of Castiel's arm from the moment they left the building.

"DRIVE!" Dean shouted to the front seat.

"What the hell happened back there, Dean?!" Sam exclaimed as he took off before the door was even closed all the way.

"I had him! I had him! He was in the friggin room and let him go!" Sam wasn't sure if Dean was talking to him or to himself at this point.

"Um Dean…" came Castiel's shaky voice from behind.

"Dean, do you know what kinda mess this puts us in?! The entire agency is gonna freak when they hear about how this went!"

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Dean" Castiel said more adamantly now.

"This screw up could toast both of us!"

"I tried okay!" The shouting was only frustrating Dean further.

"DEAN!" came Castiel's voice once again.

"WHAT?!" Dean yelled behind him, turning he saw what Castiel was worried about. The red patch wasn't noticeable until Dean got a slight glance at the white shirt under the black jacket and the red smeared across Castiel's hands when trying to cover the wound. Dean's face went white.