[PLEASE NOTE: THIS CHAPTER TAKES PLACE 4 MONTHS *BEFORE* THE LAST CHAPTER]
December 1994
Insurrectionists HQ, Los Angeles
It was 9pm, and Castiel hadn't even sifted through half of his newfangled "email" for the day yet. It seemed like for every one he answered, two more would appear in his box to take its place. How was this technology supposed to make life easier? All it did was create more work in a shorter timespan.
The desk phone rang; he leaned over to press the speakerphone button and dumped half a cup of espresso into his lap at the same time.
"Fuck. Yes, boss?"
"Not right now, honey, I have a headache," John retorted with a snort.
"Sorry to hear that. I have ibuprofen and Aleve."
John rolled his eyes and sighed. "Hey, call it a night already, would you? Your office light is keeping me awake down here."
Castiel leaned all the over his desk and looked out the door down the hallway. John was doing the same from his office, but the lights were off.
"You're sleeping in the office? Did something happen at the house?"
There was a bark of laughter from the dark office. "No, I'm actually heading out. Sam isn't feeling well. Hang up, I'm coming over."
John gathered up his coat and briefcase and strolled into Castiel's office.
"Look, I know you don't celebrate Christmas and all, but I wish you'd reconsider for once. Tomorrow night's going to be a hell of a party."
Castiel dabbed feverishly at his slacks with a comically large stack of cocktail napkins. "I'm not sure I would enjoy a party described as hellish, John. Please forgive me for passing it up."
Winchester Manor, Christmas Eve 1994
Castiel went to the party, of course. He wasn't nearly as immune to his boss's charms as he wished he could be; the man could get literally anyone to do anything he wanted. That's why he made a perfect party leader, after all.
After giving his coat to a house boy and heading to the bar for a glass of water, his phone rang noisily.
Unknown number.
Castiel never answered unknown numbers, and he proceeded to ignore it the next five times it rang with a call as well. On the seventh time, however, his curiosity got the best of him and he pulled it back out of his pocket and decided to answer. Since his voice as the speaker of the party was so well-known and constantly mimicked, he pitched it up a bit to avoid the caller identifying the number as his.
"Yes?" he answered. "Who is calling?"
"Do you have a moment to speak in private, Castiel? It's important."
Castiel moved outside to a quiet corner of the patio, interest now greatly piqued. "I think you have the wrong number," he tried hopefully. "But if you tell me what it's about, maybe I can point you in the right direction."
"I am calling on the emergency line with some information that you personally need to hear. Immediately. And I know this is Castiel, so please don't keep pretending I have the wrong number."
Castiel's blood went cold. That's why the caller got directed to this phone; the emergency number that was given to all undercover agents was diverted to an unlisted office line, which was currently forwarded to his cell. He had never actually received one of these calls before.
"I'm listening. Please proceed."
"Only if you promise to look in this immediately. I'm risking everything to call you right now. But I trust you with my life to do what you'll say you'll do."
"I promise I will address it immediately. Tell me what's going on."
"Political treason, Castiel, plain and simple. Four days ago John Winchester paid a leader of the Opportunists to plant an agent within the government, who would be working on behalf of Lucifer. The reason I know this is because I happen to be the particular agent that's been chosen for the task. The problem is, I already work for you guys. For us, rather. So I'm bugging out, and I'll need you to send me relocation and restart compensation. Without getting John involved, obviously."
Holy shit.
Castiel cleared his throat and tried to sound unconcerned. "Look, I know you have a verification code that can prove your identity, but I'm not in my office and can't cross-check it. You'll either have to wait until I can get there in about half an hour, or call me back tomorrow at 8am Pacific, okay? Don't say anything else until then."
"Has to be tomorrow. They're making my arrangements now to leave for the Capital and I'll go, but somehow on the way there-"
"I can't say anything more until you're verified. I have to end this call now. You must call me tomorrow at 8am and no later. Be careful."
He disconnected the call and carefully set his face expressionless as John approached him and offered a glass of champagne, which Castiel relectuantly took.
"Merry Christmas, Cas. You're standing under the mistletoe, so that means I get to kiss you now. Always wanted to do that, actually," he joked easily. A little alcohol always loosened him up enough to flirt with just about anybody.
Castiel ignored this tiresome banter. "Can we go somewhere private for a few minutes?"
"Oooh, moving so fast. I hope we'll be doing more than talking," John teased again, although there was absolutely nothing meant by it other than to make his subordinate blush.
"I'm serious, boss. I just received an emergency call that you need to know about immediately."
That sorted John out; he led the way to his first floor library, far from the opposite wing of the house where the party was taking place.
John was no longer interested in his wine and set it down on the sideboard as he closed the door.
"What's up, Cas? You've got my adrenaline going, so let's hear it."
"The Opportunists are about to make one of our agents. I don't know who he is yet, but he's going to call me back."
"Well, shit. Get Charlie to start the relocation process, then. That's unfortunate. What exactly did he say?"
Castiel took a deep breath and tried not to let his nervousness show.
"He said...well, it was about a meeting you had on Tuesday. He is deeply concerned that you were misled about the man's identity and motives. Seems the outcome of that meeting was this agent being chosen for a mission for the Opportunists which he cannot undertake or decline without being exposed."
It wasn't the whole truth... but it wasn't a lie, either.
"Jesus," John breathed heavily. "I had five or six meetings that day. Did he say which one?"
"No." Here goes nothing, Castiel thought. "But if you get me a list of who you met with, I'll look into them immediately. We should be able to pin it down quickly."
John looked a little startled. "Did you verify this agent's identity?"
"Uh, no. Not yet."
John looked annoyed. "Oh come on Cas, you know better than to talk to unverified callers on that line! Do that first, and then I'll get you the list. For all we know, he was captured and is calling under duress. The code he gives will tell us."
"But we should get started right away-"
"No. There's also the possibility he got cold feet and wants to disappear on our dime. When's he going to call back?"
Castiel had never lied to John before - even when he probably should have - and wasn't about to start now. "Tomorrow at 8am."
"Christmas day? Nice."
"John, don't you think it's best if we start to check up on those names right now? Why wait?"
"Cas, I think we should enjoy this party. It's Christmas eve. Come on."
Despite John's casual dismissal of the need for urgent action, he seemed unnerved as he swept his wine off the sideboard and disappeared without another glance at his colleague and friend. Castiel watched him go, his heart suddenly heavy with uncertainty. If John insisted on joining him to hear the agent's call, things were about to get very complicated.
Merry Christmas, indeed...
CONTINUED IN NEXT CHAPTER
