A/N: Before you begin, I would like to note that this is based on the USA television series, Graceland, with a Supernatural spin. I do not have any rights to either Graceland or Supernatural, and this is an AU fanfiction.

Chapter 1

"I remember that day very clearly," Samuel Campbell began, addressing the crowd of initiates. "I was sitting right where you are sitting today. I was ready to knock down the door and kick some righteous ass. Just like you. I thought I was the smartest, the fastest, the best this institution had to offer."

Castiel Novak listened intently to the speech, thinking to himself: If I can make it through one more lecture, I'll be free. To think he was the best? Never. He knew how valuable his skillsets could be. He knew how far a 970 on his practical examinations could go. Castiel wouldn't be undercover as a pencil pusher for the government. He was going to be a real Man of Letters—not just some small-town detective scouring the strange columns of local news articles in hopes of finding a case.

"And then—then I stepped into the real world," Campbell continued. "We are here today to honor the newest initiates of The Men of Letters. I'm talking to you, ladies and gentlemen, because inside these walls, you all are the best of the best. But I just want to take just a moment to think about what's going to happen outside these walls..."

His authoritative voice was sincere, but besides his conviction, Castiel also noted a hint of regret. Perhaps his superior had experienced something in his time as a Man of Letters—something Castiel had yet to encounter.

"You all are walking off one battlefield in here and onto another battlefield out there. The difference being, the battlefield out there is real, and the dangers are real. Everything you've acquired of value in your short time on this earth, everything you are worth is locked inside of you, and that means, at this moment, you find yourself in the unique position you may never be in again: You have nothing to lose."

"I'll leave you with this," Campbell concluded. There's a light at the end of this tunnel, after all, Castiel thought. "Whatever you think success means, I hope you'll stay open to the possibility that you've got it all wrong—that you have absolutely no idea what life has in store for you. You will make mistakes. You are not perfect. You will fail. And when the day comes that you figure it out, I hope you'll have the brains, the guts, and the straight up good luck to survive it. Congratulations. You are now members of the Men of Letters. Do me proud."

"Hey, Winchester!" Benny Lafitte yelled, pounding on the open door to Dean's room in the bunker. "Hey! Come on, time to get up, brother."

"Get out, Benny," Dean said weakly. His mind perked up within seconds as he realized how pathetic he just sounded, so he added, "I have a gun," for menacing effect.

The words seemed to have no effect on Benny. "Yeah? So do I. Come on, let's go. Now, is that cool? You told me no matter what you said or how ugly it got, not to let you sleep in, right?"

"I'd been awake thirty-two hours when I said that," Dean replied groggily.

"So what?" Benny said as he left the room. "No, if I let you nod off, you're just gonna yell at me 'cause I didn't do what you said. Let's go!"

Dean rolled back on his stomach miserably, moaning about how unfair it was that he couldn't sleep in after working a case in Oklahoma for the last several days.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Were you sleeping?" Rufus Turner asked sarcastically, letting himself in the room. He stooped down to Dean's ear level and shouted, "Should I come back later?"

"You know, boss, that would be swell," Dean said, hauling himself over the side of his bed to reach for the cold mug of coffee on the nightstand.

"No," Rufus replied haughtily. "It's time to rise and shine, Dean Winchester."

"What?" Dean asked, running his hands through his bed-head as if that would cure everything.

"Need you to get Kevin's stuff out of his room," Rufus replied.

"Kevin's not dead," Dean said, dismissing the order immediately. Only a Letter as high-ranking as Dean would ever be allowed to casually wave off a direct order.

"For what?" Rufus replied. "I didn't say he was dead. I said his stuff was in the way. We got a new Man of Letters coming in. You got two hours."

"What? Hell, no," Dean said defensively, taking a swig of his cold, bitter coffee. "That's Kevin's room. You're not replacing Kevin, and I'm going back to bed, so you—"

"No, you're not," Rufus pressed. "He's your new trainee. Name's Castiel Novak, graduated top of his class at Letters Academy in Sioux Falls—under Bobby Singer."

"So did Winchester, and he can't even match his socks," Meg Masters said, peeking her head around the door. She smirked before adding, "Yeah, your record still stands."

"Meg, where are you going?" Dean shouted as she jogged down the winding hallway.

"Don't worry about it," came the echoed reply.

Rufus passed Dean a manila envelope marked with the Aquarian star, and Dean knew it contained the new Letter's information. He indignantly huffed at being handed paperwork, but opened the file anyway and began to read.

Name: Castiel Novak

Age: 23

DOB: September 18, 1992

POB: Culpeper, Virginia

Status: In-Training

Dean barely glanced at the contact information, his eyes skimming for the Academy transcript. He was astounded by his findings, as the scores were right up there with his own. Sure, it had been four years since Dean was a rookie fresh out of Letter Academy, but he was still blown away by the scores so close to beating his.

"What, he's got a 970?" Dean asked incredulously. "Is he a genius or something? Uh, boss, does anybody happen to notice the new guy doesn't speak Latin?"

"Yeah, we're putting him through linguistics training now," Rufus replied. "His plane lands at 0800. Winchester, be there to pick him up."

"Okay," Dean agreed, sighing and sprawling out across his bed again.

"0800," Rufus reminded him once more as he rounded the corner.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, reassuring him that this time, Dean would follow orders.

No wonder they wanted to put him with Dean. He was the first person in four years to make a score that high on his practical examinations, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Bobby himself assigned Novak to Omega.

"Benny!" Dean yelled as soon as he knew Rufus was gone. "Need you to go to the airport."

"Nah, brother," Benny said.

"It's my day off. I don't want to spend all morning in some terminal. And there's no picture, so you—," Dean explained.

"Yeah, well, you know, make a sign or something," Benny answered desperately. "What? You can't make a sign?"

"Can I? I'm going to pick up some pie," Dean said as he stripped off his undershirt and dug around in his messy drawers for another.

"How am I supposed to find this guy?" Benny asked.

"I don't know. Be a problem-solver, Benny," Dean replied sarcastically as he tugged on a flannel nearly identical to the one he took off. "Have fun."

Castiel had been on a plane for an hour, and he was already getting impatient. He expected to be working directly under Bobby Singer at the Letter Academy in Sioux Falls, but for some strange reason, his assignment changed at the last minute. Nevertheless, Castiel was sure his skills would be valued and required just as much here as in an office training new hunters.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," Castiel began, making sure his pronunciation was correct.

"Salve," a woman in the seat next to him said.

"I'm sorry, I don't actually speak Latin," Castiel explained.

"Salve," the woman repeated. "It's a Latin greeting."

"Ah, thank you," he responded, "You see, it's a job requirement. I thought I was going to Sioux Falls, and then, last minute, I'm... well, I'm headed to Lebanon."

"Oh, what do you do that requires you to memorize an exorcism?" she asked in curiosity.

Castiel didn't wait a single second to reply, "I'm a teacher, actually." He was an exceptional magician, scribe, and seer, but his true talent was hunting. Impersonating others and blending in with the civilians is what he did best.

"Really?" the woman replied.

"Yeah," Castiel affirmed.

"So's my brother," she informed him. "I'm Hannah, by the way."

"Jimmy," he replied, shaking her hand in the formality of etiquette hardwired into him after years of training.

"What school?" Hannah questioned, continuing their polite conversation.

"It's—it's a new one," Castiel said, not wanting to reveal much more information.

"Oh," she replied, nodding her head in interest.

"Yeah, it's brand-new. It—It doesn't even have a name yet." He hoped that would end her inquiries about the fictitious school.

"Excuse me, sir?" a flight attendant interrupted them. Her name tag read Rebecca. "Are you Castiel Novak?"

"Yeah," he replied, his heart racing as his alias was rendered useless.

"This message was patched to you through the cockpit phone," Rebecca explained. "Mr. Novak, wait under the baggage claim sign in Terminal C for your field training agent to arrive. Do not leave the baggage area under any circumstances."

"Thank you," he said respectfully, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

"So..." Hannah said, breaking the silence of the awkward conversation. "You really a teacher?"

A few hours and flimsy explanations later, Castiel found himself under the baggage claim sign, perfecting his accent on the Latin exorcism. He played with a stress ball, squeezing it repeatedly as a nervous habit.

"Castiel Novak, right?" a voice called from the top of the stairs.

"Yeah," Castiel replied, raising his guard and putting a hand to his undetectable demon knife in his back pocket.

"You wanna know how I knew that?" the voice continued.

"Uh, 'cause I was told to wait underneath this sign and I am?" Castiel guessed. He took his hand off the blade as the man appeared and quickly descended the stairs to join him under the baggage claim sign.

"No," the man said with a chuckle. "Because only a guy who got a 970 on his practicals and was told to wait under a sign is still gonna be waiting there two hours later."

"Where is Dean Winchester?" Castiel asked.

"Who says I ain't Winchester?" the man said defensively.

"Well, you just said 970 like you were impressed," Castiel explained. "Dean Winchester got a higher score than I did, so from that, I would conclude that you didn't."

"I'm Lafitte," the man said, nodding his head in approval of how sharp the new recruit was. "Everybody calls me Benny."