Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot.
I want to dedicate this chapter to Stirling Phoenix! You are amazing, and thank you so much for taking some time out of your busy day to help me! You are such a good friend!
For You Entertainment
Chapter 1
As Castiel Novak slipped under the yellow tape, his tan trench coat lightly brushed the wet ground. He flashed his badge briefly at the apartment's entrance to an officer on guard, and then walked on. Making his way through the apartment's foyer, Castiel weaved between the photographers and their flashing bulbs, the investigators hanging around a fascinating piece of evidence, and the forensic team talking amongst themselves, and carefully into the scene of the crime: the kitchen.
The kitchen was spacious, and very warm, Castiel supposed, as far as kitchens go. The only downfall, it seemed, were the huge pools and splatters of blood, littered with assorted body parts that were thrown across the walls, counters, and floor.
Castiel stepped over a finger that laid in a puddle dark blood, and towards the man who was in charge. He was a tall, broad, African American man, who had a very tense and commanding presence among the officers. He was talking intently to another officer; Castiel waited several moments before awkwardly clearing his throat.
The tall officer turned toward him. "What?" he snapped in a clearly irritated tone, glaring his dark eyes at Castiel.
"Officer Gordon Walker?" Castiel asked in return, fishing through his coat pockets a moment before grasping what he was looking for.
"Yeah, that's me, but who the fuck are you?" he asked bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Castiel stepped forward again, undaunted, opening his badge.
"Agent Novak, FBI. I have been assigned to help move this case along."
Officer Walker snatched the black badge holder out of Castiel's hold, and examined it with a stern, and dark gaze. When he was satisfied, he huffed and tossed the badge back.
Castiel caught it, and looked at the man in front of him.
"I didn't know the Feds were concerned over this case. It's very open and shut," Gordon said with indifference, but Castiel knew that he was trying to get information out of the newcomer.
"I just go where they send me," he said, and then moved on, avoiding Gordon's words by asking, "Can you tell me what you have so far?"
The officer raised his eyebrows mockingly, and snorted as he placed his hands in his jean pockets before answering, "Oh, right down to business. Well, Agent, at Seven this morning, the vic was found. Or what was left of him at least," the officer added.
Castiel nodded thoughtfully, and bent down to unabashedly study a chunk of the victim's deteriorating body matter on the tiled floor, before poking it with the toe of his shoe.
"I see," he said, looking up at Gordon briefly before turning his attention back to the morbid scene around him. "And who found him?"
"He was discovered by the cleaning lady that worked for the deceased," Gordon said with some disgust as Castiel seemed to ignore him for the body organs in front of him.
"Any chance that she is a suspect?"
"No. She had a spare key, and complete access to the apartment, but her alibi for the night of the murder is solid."
"As I would expect," the agent said with sigh as he straightened to his feet, and walked over to examine another part of the kitchen that had caught his eye. "Am I to understand, Officer Walker, that this makes the sixth homicide in the past three months?"
Gordon stiffened at Castiel's question, his face darkened further with anger and irritation. It was obvious that he felt Castiel was encroaching in his investigation. The young, dark haired man was oblivious to the other man's reaction though, waiting for the man to answer as he continued to pace carefully around the kitchen, studying everything with dark blue, cryptic eyes.
"Yes," the man finally answered through slightly clenched teeth.
The blue eyed man nodded again. "Any witnesses?" he asked.
The burly officer was hesitant for a moment before answering, "Some people that were slumming out in front of a bar on Lawrence Drive said that the vic left the bar around Two in the morning, hailed a cab, then left. I plan on interviewing the cabbie later this afternoon."
"Good. Please report to me when it's done. I recommend that that you check out the bar again. Also the neighbors. Someone had to have seen something useful," Castiel said absently, now inspecting a blood stained knife.
Officer Walker clenched his hands at his sides, probably thinking about wanting to ring the FBI agent's neck, but forced himself to hold himself in check.
"Yes, sir," the other officer said stiffly.
"I hope you understand that this nothing personal. I am just -"
"Oh I understand, all right," Gordon said, stepping right into Castiel's personal space. "I understand that a G-man like you has no business being here." He grabbed the tan lapels of Castiel's trench coat, yanking him even closer. His breath felt hot against Castiel's face.
The younger man forced himself not to react, instead observing how everyone within earshot was conveniently oblivious to the happenings in the kitchen between the two men.
"Why don't you go back to your comfy chair in your comfy office, sit back, look pretty, and let the real police do this properly?" Officer Walker said with such fake pleasantness that it was sickening, and released him with a sneer and a small shove.
Castiel blinked at Gordon, then glared right back, his dark blue eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Even if I could do what you suggest, I wouldn't. But don't worry, officer, I don't intend to get in your way. As I said earlier, I am merely here to assist." For now, at least, he added to himself.
Gordon opened his mouth again, no doubt to make another passive-aggressive comment, but was cut off by the bubbly ringtone of the FBI agent's phone as it pinged with a call.
Castiel slid the phone from his pocket, and swiped the screen to accept the call, knowing there would hell to pay if he ignored it.
"Castiel here," he announced, keeping his voice neutral.
"Where are you, Castiel? We've been waiting for half an hour already!" A female voice nagged.
The said man resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yes, Naomi, I know, and I am truly sorry. I was asked to make a quick," his gaze flicked over to the nearest body part, "Stop first. Tell Baltazar that I will be there shortly."
"Castiel-" the senior officer's voice was cut off as Castiel flipped his phone shut.
"Trouble in paradise?" a sneer cut in behind him.
Castiel turned toward Gordon as he pocketed his phone.
"Well, that's my que. Thank you for filling me in, and have a good day, Officer Walker," Castiel said with forced politeness, then practically flew from the apartment to his car.
Castiel's 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V was parked in an abandoned side street, the shade from the buildings was hiding its wonderful, sparkling, jubilee gold paint. He climbed in with a sigh, and carefully pulled out of the alley, and onto the street.
As he drove, Castiel couldn't help but think of Gordon's words, and thus his own career in the force. The day he had turned 18, Castiel submitted himself for FBI training, and five brutal, and hellish weeks later, he was admitted into the academy.
By 20, Castiel had moved up the ranks, and was assigned to criminal investigations under the watchful eye of senior agent, Gadreel. Two years after that, Gadreel was killed in action, and at just the tender age of 22, Castiel Novak was promoted again, this time to senior officer. Now he was 27, still in the prime of his life, and had everything in a career he could ever ask for.
At the bureau he was known as the Avenging Angel, and although he was admired for his commitment and tenacity, he was also hated and despised by his colleges. While everyone wanted to be him, everyone hated him. They saw him as the guy with all the privileges, but not as the man who had worked so hard for them.
Of course, Castiel had learned to stop caring about what others thought of him a long time ago, and as a result of his cold politeness, and general lack of people skills outside of work, he sorely lacked friends of any sort, with only a few exceptions. Even his family rarely spoke to him outside of work, and as the youngest of the five brothers, Castiel decided it was best this way.
That was one of the reasons the dark haired man thought it was odd that one of his brothers had requested to meet with him when he had learned that Castiel was in town indefinitely.
Castiel drove his car into the parking lot, threw some quarters into a nearby parking meter, and swiftly walked into a building. As he grabbed the door handle, the glass reflection showed a haggard and disheveled looking Castiel. He had a heavy five o'clock shadow, a rumpled suit that was flecked with dirt and sweat, and a massive case of bedhead.
Castiel ran his fingers through his hair in a halfhearted attempt to somewhat fix his appearance, but soon gave up, and just yanked open the door to stride in. He was greeted by the person behind the desk as he went through the lobby, and into an adjacent conference room.
There was a long rectangular table in the center of the room, and seated at the middle of it was Naomi Haven, Castiel's boss, whom he strongly believed was Satan incarnate.
"Hello, Castiel," Naomi said dryly, her hands, gently folded, over the top of the hard oak table in front of herself. "So good of you come."
Castiel felt his cheeks turn a little pink with embarrassment at the thought of his appearance compared to Naomi's always prim and proper outfits that were always spotless, but he forced it down, and turned his dark gaze to the blond at the head of the table.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Castiel. How are you, my darling baby brother?" the man asked, his smooth English accent rang through the room.
"I am well, Baltazar. Thank you for asking. I trust that you are well too?"
Baltazar leaned back in his plush chair. "Never better, Cassie." he said, gesturing toward the seat next to him. Castiel obliged by walking over, and sitting down. "For the reason I called you here, asking to meet… Do you know why?" the older brother asked.
"Well, for work of course," the youngest replied, but sounded a little unsure.
"No, no, Cassie!" the blond laughed, and sat forward. "I wanted to have lunch with you!" he said. "But you look like a train wreck, and I refuse to go out in public with a hobo!"
Castiel looked at his brother in confusion. "What? Lunch?"
The other man nodded, rolling his eyes. "Yes, dearest Cassie, lunch. A meal generally eaten in the middle of the day, and enjoyed tremendously in good company," he said in an annoyed tone, before adding mockingly, " How I have missed our little heart-to-heart chats."
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.
"Now, the only way for me to forgive you is if you go to dinner with me tonight."
"Balthazar," Castiel said seriously, "I don't think that now is the time to be distracted from the case at hand."
Castiel's brother scoffed. "Oh, come on, Cassie!" he exclaimed chidingly. "Do be such a stick in the mud! We haven't seen each other in ages!"
It was Castiel's turn to roll his eyes at his brother's theatrics. "And what about the piling cases, brother? Hmm?" he asked rhetorically.
"Actually," Balthazar said with a shit eating grin as he leaned forward, "we have had a team of experts studying the case's perpetrator. I may or may not have a list of potential targets that fit the killer's criteria…"
Castiel sat up straighter. "Are you telling me truth?"
The blond nodded.
"Then tell me!"
"Na-uh, baby brother. Equivalent exchange, don't forget. Nothing in this living hell is free," he tsked, with an amused look in his eyes.
"That is dirty, Balthazar, playing that hand," Castiel said darkly.
The blond laughed happily. "Yes, of course! Now, will I expect you at dinner?"
Castiel heaved a heavy sigh, admitting defeat. "And if go? Things are always complicated with you, brother. It would be anything but a dinner."
The blond laughed again as he stood, and straightened his fine tailored suit. "No spoilers, Cassie. Come tonight, all with be revealed." Then Balthazar snapped his fingers together, and a small entourage of young women rushed into the room.
Castiel glared at his brother. "That's not fair, Balthazar."
The older brother took his outer jacket from a beautiful girl. He winked at her suggestively as he slipped the article on, then turned back to Castiel.
"Life isn't fair, dear Cassie," he sneered with a shrug. "Now, I will see you at dinner- no 'buts', Castiel, I mean it. And make sure to wear something nice." he added. "Ciao!"
Castiel could only watch helplessly as his older brother flounced out of the conference room with a dismissive wave over his shoulder, then disappeared from sight.
He sighed tiredly, and rubbed his eyes, wondering what he had done to deserve a night of certain torture.
"Got to admit, Castiel," Naomi said as she stood as well, and gathered up the papers and folders in front of her, "he always gets what he wants, and that's why you admire him." And with that, Naomi left the room too, leaving Castiel alone, to study the sight of his face reflecting off of the dark table's shiny surface.
He slumped back in his chair, and muttered to the open air, "I do not have a good feeling about this…"
okay, guys! i hope you liked this chapter! Please remember to review to let me know! i am not gonna write a story that none wants to read! :)
