Chapter 1
"I'll catch you, I promise that," Dean growled into the phone.
"You can try, handsome," the voice on the other side said before there was a click. He was gone.
Dean hung up and looked around at the guys in the room.
"Did we pinpoint his location?"
"Not exactly, the conversation wasn't long enough, we just know it was a payphone in the San Francisco area," another agent said.
"All right, Chuck," Dean said to him, "Get me on the next flight out there. Sam, call ahead to their branch and give 'em the scoop and let them know we're coming out there."
Dean turned and headed to his office. Covering his desk were papers and folders, so many that you couldn't even see the desk. There was barely anything else on the desk, a single picture frame of Dean, Sam and their late parents, one cup full of pens, a stapler and tape and a name placard that simply read Dean Winchester.
Sitting behind the desk, Dean attempted to sort through all his papers. They all centered around the man on the phone, Castiel Novak. He was assuming that wasn't his real name but it was the one he used most often.
Novak was Dean's target, had been for a few years now. He was a Russian intelligence agent and the CIA needed something from him. That was all Dean was told and then he dedicated his life to finding him.
Scooping up most of the papers into a briefcase, the desk looked strangely bare.
"You ready, Dean?" Sam said, poking his head through the door.
"Let's go," he said, hauling the briefcase out the door, hitting the lights and not looking back.
After touching down in San Francisco, a pretty damn long flight from Washington D.C., they head to the local branch of the CIA.
"This sucks, I want my car," Dean whined from the behind the wheel of a rental car. It was still a Chevy Impala, black, but a 2006 model, not 1967.
Sam just rolled his eyes.
"What did he say on the phone again?" he asked.
"He said that he knows I'm trying to catch him, has known the whole time pretty much. And that he was told the same thing, that he's supposed to bring me in. I'm sure he's lying, though, right?"
"Right, has to be," Sam agreed. Why would two spies be sent to capture each other? "How'd he end the conversation?"
"'You can try, handsome,'" Dean sighed. Sam had been recently making of Dean and his obsession with finding Novak and mistaking him doing his work for something else.
Sam laughed.
"Shut up, Sammy," Dean snapped. They reached their destination and he parked the car.
They walked up to the desk, flashed their badges and asked where they could find Agent Charlie Bradbury, who was the one that would be helping out on catching Novak.
"Third floor, it's the biggest office up there, can't miss it," the woman said.
She wasn't lying. Right outside of the stairwell was an office door that read Charlie Bradbury but was also covered in stickers. There were stickers depicting a wide range of likes, including Star Wars, Harry Potter, some video games and a lot of other ones Dean didn't recognize.
He shared a look with Sam and they both shrugged.
As he raised his fist to knock, the door flew open. Standing there was a woman, average height, in a smart, black pantsuit with a vibrant yellow blouse in contrast to her fiery red hair. She smiled broadly, looking at the brothers in turn.
"I'm Charlie Bradbury, you must be the Winchesters!" She exclaimed, sticking her hand out.
"I'm Sam, this is Dean," Sam said. They both shook her hand and Dean was shocked as they walked into her office. It had more decoration than probably any government-related office ever and would probably never be topped. There was a life-size C3PO in the corner, posters for various movies and shows, and huge rainbow flag behind the desk that had about ten bobbleheads.
Most CIA operatives weren't so spunky and expressive. In general, the offices were boring and lame, this office was bright and fun, like Charlie seemed to be.
"We were, uh, expecting…" Dean stammered.
"A man?" Charlie asked with raised eyebrows, but she didn't seem mad. More like bored. That probably happened a lot, unfortunately.
"No, someone more plain, more boring," Dean said honestly. Charlie smiled.
"I'm not your typical agent, no, but I get shit done. So, what's the deal here, how can I help?"
"We're chasing a Russian operative, Castiel Novak. This morning, he called from a payphone with a San Francisco area code, but we couldn't get more specific," Sam explained.
"Basically, we need to find him. Like three years ago," Dean admitted.
"That long, huh?" Charlie teased.
Dean didn't answer, just handed her a couple files with basic information and photos. She immediately set to work on her computer.
"I'm kind of a genius, so I might be able to narrow it down," Charlie said.
Sam handed her a recording of the call. She played it multiple times through, cracking up when Castiel called Dean handsome.
"Don't start," Dean groaned, Sam joining in Charlie's laughter.
By messing with the volume levels, she focused on the background noises for a while.
"Okay, listen to this, guys." She played a clip and a distant freight train whistle could be heard. "I also did some work on the number he called from, your guys must be rookies, I figured out a few more numbers to it," she continued.
"Awesome!" Dean said, smiling now.
"So, with part of the number and knowing the payphone had to be by train tracks, does that help?" Sam asked.
"It helps, but we need more than that, we need…" she was cut short by Dean's phone ringing.
"It's the same number, it's him," Dean said, looking at his phone.
"Let me get a trace," Charlie said, fingers moving furiously over the keyboard. Two more rings and she nodded.
"Hello?" Dean answered, putting it on speaker as well.
"I know you're in San Francisco, Winchester. This should be fun." The familiar voice of Castiel Novak poured in the room. From his picture, he would be hard to guess his voice would be so low.
"Loads. We'll just have to see who the better spy is," Dean retorted. He knew he had to try to keep him on the line longer to pinpoint his location. Charlie was staring at her screen, fingers flying, shaking her head.
Castiel laughed.
"I guess we will." He paused. "Oh, and tell your redheaded friend not to slouch."
Click.