A Call to Arms

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author Note: Thanks for everyone's well wishes for my computer situation! The bad news is my computer is a large paperweight. The good news is that the hard drive info was recoverable! So, this chapter comes to you from my new computer.

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Chapter 7: Contracting the Noose

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A sound woke Sam with a jolt, had him sitting up and grabbing Cas' gun from under his pillow. And there it was again, movement from downstairs. Heart pounding, he crossed the room and listened at the doorway, could hear the creak of footsteps on the lower floor.

Entering the hall, gun in hand, he didn't head downstairs, instead he slipped down the corridor and stepped into Dean's room, found his tension drop at least forty percent at the sight of Dean peacefully asleep in bed. Hair tuffed up and curled in on himself, his big brother looked far younger than he was. Backing out of the room, Sam closed the door, was determined that whoever was in the house, they weren't getting to his brother.

Slipping down the hallway and creeping down the stairs barefoot, making absolutely no sound, he froze on the last step, sought out the location of the noise he heard. Kitchen. It was coming from Dean's kitchen. Tightening a steady but clammy hand around the gun, he controlled his breathing before he ran into the open area of the kitchen with a growl of "Don't move!" on his lips…that never broke the sound barrier.

Not when his intruder turned out to be Cas.

Hurriedly jerking the gun down from its bead on Cas, Sam hissed, "I almost shot you!"

Without turning around to face his would-be killer, Cas pulled a pan out from a cupboard, unperturbedly refuted, "Yeah, not even close. So how's sleeping beauty?"

"Still out," Sam exhaled, his adrenaline fading fast, making his legs weak at the near catastrophe. He was rusty. Sinking into a chair by the bar, he watched Cas as he prepared breakfast, noted that Cas didn't search around for any ingredients or equipment, knew right where everything was. "I take it this isn't your first pow wow here," he ventured, hoped his tone didn't come out as surly as the speculation had played in his head.

Cas sent Sam a smirk over his shoulder. "Not by a long shot. The office is great for meeting clients but Dean works better outside the box."

"Always did," Sam quietly agreed with a smile, fondly recalled how much trouble that trait of his brother's had caused them from time to time. A moment later, he sobered, pinned Cas with his gaze and asked, "And my Dad?" Before he could fully read Cas' expression, the man turned around, put his focus on the eggs sizzling in the pan.

"Likes playing lone wolf more than being in the office at all," Cas supplied, hoped the condemnation didn't carry in his tone. Didn't need Sam deciding that now was the time to defend his father, couldn't stomach that, not after hearing the message that Dean's dear old dad had left for his wounded son.

Sam read between the lines, had honed that instinct as a kid, had to with Dean's sometimes tightlipped approach to his feelings. "Lone wolf…like he and Dean don't usually work cases together?"

Surprised by Sam's insight, Cas turned around, faced Dean's brother as he made his reply. "Rarely since I came on board."

Sam's jaw clenched at the news. When he had left for college he had thought Dean would have their father watching his back, that their father would just transfer all his protective instincts to his remaining son. He never thought his father would toss those instincts out the window. "And right now he's where?" his voice tight with condemnation.

"Where he has been for the past year and half," Cas answered even as he swiveled around, moved the eggs around in the pan. "On the trail of your mother's killer."

Sam's teeth grinded together and his jaw nearly locked up. He had hoped that his Dad had given up that obsession. 'Like you hoped he had Dean's back. Guess you were wrong on both accounts…on all accounts.' Needing to gather all the incriminating evidence, to know just how pissed he should be at his father, he asked aloud, a dangerous edge vibrating in the words, "And he didn't return your call? Didn't call Dean since he's been shot?"

Cas kept his back to Sam as he hedged, "I think he called Dean," his wooden tone would have had Dean giving him that 'now tell me the rest' look. He didn't look to Sam to see if it was a Winchester trait, knew that, as impassive as his tone had been, his expression was not. That it might telegraph to Sam just how much he friggin' hated John Winchester right then. That he had disliked the man for the way he treated Dean for a long while but this…this was the last stray. And part of him wanted Sam to know all the sordid details, to know that yeah, his old man was worth leaving behind…but Dean wasn't. Instead he bit back the hatred rimmed words that were running through his head. 'Yeah, your Dad called Dean to ream him out for creating bad press for the agency, for getting himself shot, for the agency being on the verge of going under.'

Reading the tension in Cas' back, in the curtness of the other man's reply, Sam knew that the sharing portion of their breakfast was over.

"Make mine over-easy," Dean's voice startled Sam as he entered the room, claimed a chair to Sam's right. Cas didn't miss a beat, wasn't surprised by Dean's appearance, or even his request.

"Scrambled or up. I don't do anything half way," Cas shot down Dean's appeal as he kept his content smile hidden from the brothers.

"Up," Dean grumbled, reaching for the coffee pot with his left hand before he was brutally reminded that that shoulder was experiencing spotty service.

Watching Dean's grimace and his grab for the coffee derailed by pain, Sam hurriedly intervened. Grabbing the coffee pot, he poured a mug of coffee and deposited it in front of his brother. But he purposely didn't give Dean eye contact, didn't want his brother thinking it was a pity move, that he was watching his every move, gauging his every reaction…like he was.

Pouring two more mugs of coffee, Sam slid one toward Cas and took a healthy swallow from his own mug. "Any beneficial discoveries to get the day started?" he asked, eyed Cas' back, had a suspicion that Cas was holding something back, hadn't just gone home and hit the hay the night before.

At Sam's question, Dean's eyebrow rose in surprise and he tracked Sam's focus to Cas. "Cas, you got something to share with the class?"

"No," was Cas' clipped reply but he didn't face his audience, didn't know that the two brothers were exchanging skeptical glances behind his back.

"Un huh, really convincing…" Dean sarcastically drawled, eyes searing into the back of his best friend's head. "You want to try that again, maybe the truth this time around."

Cursing himself for being so transparent to even a stranger like Sam Winchester, Cas faced Dean, knew that if he kept quiet, didn't show all his cards, Dean would think he was betraying him. And that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Abandoning the breakfast on the stove, Cas stalked out of the kitchen, heard Dean's surprised call of his name as he walked out the front door.

"Cas?" Whatever Dean expected, it wasn't Cas walking away. Cas telling him to mind his own business, telling him he was getting paranoid, ok, but to just bail on him…head for the door? For all the walls he had erected, reinforced, it just took this moment to teach Dean some brutal truths: he had no defense against an abandonment by Cas, against the hurt of his only friend leaving him high and dry, of the one person, the only person he risked trusting turning against him.

Coming off the chair, Dean started after Cas, was prepared to do what he always did: try to keep his family, his friends with him. Would do everything short…and not short of begging to stop that loss, to keep that treasured part of his soul intact.

Before Dean even took a half step toward the front door, Cas was blowing back into the house and making a beeline for the kitchen. He did a handoff with Dean as he passed him, resumed his chef function.

Dropping his eyes, Dean paled at what Cas had slipped into his hand. A cell phone. More specifically, Dean's cell phone. Fisting the phone in his hand, Dean slowly turned to Cas, was treated to his friend's back as Cas slid the eggs onto plates. "Why?" he growled, felt the sharp sting of betrayal, roiling anger that Cas had gone behind his back, had stuck his nose in business that wasn't his.

Stunned at the happenings of the last few minutes, Sam sat in silence, marked the anger on Dean's face and the fear in Cas' as the former FBI agent faced Dean. He wondered if he was watching the end of their friendship. "I have no idea what's going on but let's just talk about this…" he arbitrated, found, to his surprise, that he didn't want Dean's friendship with Cas to tank, not if it hurt his brother. But it was like he didn't exist, felt like he was trying to mediate a gun fight in the middle of a dusty frontier town.

Setting the plates in front of Sam and Dean with more force than care, Cas met Dean's furious gaze, soon discovered it wasn't so much furious as hurt. And that was so much worse.

It made Cas' first words come out more gentle than he intended. "Because you wouldn't talk about it." But then his tone shifted from quiet reasoning to a shout, his concern fading away to be eclipsed by his frustration. "Because I knew you'ld take whatever crap he said and think you deserved it. Because you ask for help for other people, to help solve other people's problems but never your own."

The air was almost too thick to draw a breath and Sam knew, just knew, that the "he" Cas spoke about was their father, that Cas knew the contents of his brother and father's latest conversation. And he didn't, was again the third man out…in his own family. Coming to his feet, he joined the fray, "Alright, someone tell me what's going on. Dean? Cas?"

Tossing the cellphone on the bar beside his plate, Dean reclaimed his seat. "Breakfast, that's what's going on," he deadpanned. Then, turning a bogus smile up at Sam, he lamely joked, "Most important meal of the day. Now sit down and let's eat. I'm starving."

Sam tried to catch Cas' eyes but the other man wasn't blinking from his focus on Dean, was standing there, waiting, for what Sam didn't exactly know. Until he saw it, until he watched as Dean's eyes rose to Cas and his brother nodded to the chair beside him, invited, no, ordered Cas to take his seat, to pretend that whatever just happened didn't happen.

Wearing a look that was a cross between wholehearted relief and sad defeat, Cas nodded and then he claimed the chair at Dean's side, began to quietly eat.

Realizing that he had to play the game, had to bid his time to make his inquiries, Sam sat down at Dean's other side, picked up his fork and started in on his eggs. But Cas' words wouldn't leave him alone, had him speculating on what lay hidden on the cell phone's message log, a cell phone that was within his long arm's reach…but might as well be at the bottom of the sea. Just like Dean. His brother was right there beside him, but at the moment, his brother was locked down inside himself, was the Fort Knox of emotional walls, felt further away right then than he had been even the past four years.

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If breakfast was a somber affair, the research portion of the day was even more restrained. They had decided to split up the research, to divide and conquer. A decision that, of course, had been Dean's. All Dean's. And Sam suspected it was his brother's way of making sure that he didn't have to talk to either of his house guests.

Sam wasn't sure if he was happy because he finally traced a link to the gang and Kenvert or just because he had a reason to break the heavy silence in the house, had some way to entice Dean to look at him. "President of Research," he announced proudly, dropping his file on top of Dean's hands, ensuring that Dean had to pay attention to him. Patiently, he waited until Dean looked up from the paper to him, gave him infamous raised eyebrow expression of 'you got my attention, Sammy, so lead on,' before he revealed his discoveries. "Like you said, Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon. Kervert's President of Research, Peter Wesfield, knows a guy who knows a parole officer, who knows…"

Dean immediately picked up his brother's train of thought. "..a member of the gang. Nice, Sammy," he praise, bestowed a pleased look onto his little brother.

Reveling in Dean's admiration, Sam nearly blushed, stammered, "You gave me the idea."

"Now we need to find out what Wesfield gains by all of this. Should find out what research project wasn't getting the green light or one that he could make a lot of money selling to someone else," Dean formulated, beginning to rummage through the paperwork scattered across his living room table.

"There was a leak to the press that Kenvert was working on a military weapon prototype. But then the weapon testing failed and their military contract went down the tube. Murdering Mason, that wouldn't get the contract back or improve the company PR," Sam said, knew that the information didn't fit together for him but trusted that it might mean something to Dean.

Cas spoke slowly, was putting together the pieces in his head. "What if the weapon wasn't a failure?"

Turning to Cas, Dean frowned. "Why would the company let the press think it was?"

"Maybe they got paid to say it was or.." insight sparked in Cas' eyes as he concluded, ".. or maybe our president of research was already making a side deal."

"So he could sell it on the black-market?" Sam asked, hoped he was catching the threads.

"Yeah or…" Cas began before he broke off.

Knowing that look on his friend's face, Dean pressed, "Or what, Cas?"
Meeting Dean's eyes, Cas speculated, dread in his tone, "Or the military is doing the cover up, doesn't want to let the public know that they have that type of a weapon, that they would use it without losing a night's sleep."
"Government conspiracy?" Sam did a poor job of hiding his skepticism because, come on, this wasn't the X-files?

However, the look Cas bestowed on Sam, it wasn't chagrined, it was worried. "You have no idea the kind of crap that goes on behind the scenes." And Cas couldn't help but glance in Dean's direction. In their shared glance, he knew that he and Dean were both thinking the same thing: How they had met, how the Feds had wanted Cas to take Dean out of the picture, permanently. An order that Cas had taken umbrage to…and then an ax to. Instead, he had changed teams, had done his best… and his worst to keep Dean alive.

His eyes holding Cas', Dean grumbled, "Just great. Another branch of the government that I've pissed off."

"Another?" Sam amazed, hadn't missed the exchange between Cas and Dean but hadn't a clue what it had been about, until now.

"Your brother's got a real way with people of authority," Cas drawled, earning him a glare from his best friend.

"So what do we do? Let them get away with it? Let them kill someone, anyone who gets in the way of their newest toy for terrorism?" Dean bitterly spat.

Cas and Sam shared a look, knew that neither of them wanted Dean in danger, that the stakes, if they were as high as they thought they were, meant that the players in the game had no consideration for human life, for Dean's life.

Catching the interaction among his friend and brother but not able to interpret it, Dean reacted to their continued silence with a rough growl. "That was a rhetorical question. You get that, right?" Getting up, he stated to pace the living room. "We need to talk to someone in that research area, find out if the weapon worked or didn't work and who might be willing to place the first order. If only I trusted Mason's dad enough to get the employee records…."

"I kinda hacked into Kenvert's Human Resources files, thought we might need more than press releases," Sam sheepishly admitted.

Awed, Dean gave a bark of laughter, "That's my boy!"

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The three men huddled around the computer even as Sam's deft fingers flew across the keyboard. "So I'll check the research team personnel…" Sam narrated his actions.

"No, check who left the company in the last two months," Cas suggested, explained when Dean and Sam gave him confused looks. "This is how the game is played. You put people off the board you don't trust."

After a few keystrokes, Sam pointed excitedly to the screen. "This guy was part of a research team and he just retired." Accessing another screen, he announced his findings. "And he got a nice pension."

Leaning closer to the monitor, Cas shook his head. "He got paid to NOT talk. We have to find someone who isn't that far up the food chain. Go to Kenvert's termination list." As soon as Sam did, Cas pointed to another name, Miguel Valez. "Him. We need to talk to him."

Sam gave Cas an incredulous stare. "He's just a maintenance guy."

A smile grew on Dean's features as he caught onto Cas' logic, expounded, "…Who had full access to the research room and no one paid much attention too. Until he sees too much. And he didn't get a hush fund, he got a boot out the door. He's the guy we have to talk to." Smile still in place, he turned to Sam, "You got any suits?"

"Yeah, in California," Sam replied, not sure what his brother's question was leading up to.

Grabbing his wallet, Dean pulled out his corporate credit card and handed it to Sam. "Well suit up, my brother. We're about to pay Mr. Valez a visit."

"And what are we today? Insurance agents?" Sam guessed, knew how his brother loved to role play.

"Nope. We're detectives following up on some wrongful termination suits against Kenvert," Dean corrected. "You're officially rejoining the family business, Sammy."

It was the most unexpected thing but Sam couldn't help smiling at the prospect. And he didn't know when doing the family business had stopped being a jail sentence and had started to be an aspiration of his, even an honor.

"While you two are playing Frank and Joe Hardy, I'll put feelers out with my military contacts," Cas announced, reminded himself that, even if Sam wasn't there, he and Dean would be splitting up the work load exactly like this. That they weren't usually tied at the hip. 'But usually someone isn't gunning for Dean with a vengeance,' he caustically pointed out. And that fact was going to make it all the harder to watch Dean walk out the door without him. He watched Dean's back, that was his job, had been while Sam had been gone and would be after Sam left again.

"Military contacts?" Dean drawled, quirking an eyebrow at Cas. "That what you're calling your family nowadays?"

Feeling Sam's interested gaze, Cas gave Dean a dirty look. "Guess your family was leaving me nostalgic for my own." And Cas felt sick satisfaction at Dean's startled hurt, let that emotion hang around as he left without a word. But once he got into his car it dissipated, turned into shame.

What he and Dean had always had in common was family issues. It was one of the reasons Cas believed that they had forged such a strong bond. That their friendship, it made up for what their own true families' connections lacked. And it had never been a competition, whose family treated them better, whose family would back them up if they got in a bind. 'And now I just made it one…' Cas realized with self-hatred before he put the car in reverse and backed out of Dean's driveway, vowing that once this case was over, things would get back to normal. But the nagging thought sprang to mind…did Dean want normal back? Was normal going to be enough after his brother had been returned to him, even if it were only for a short while?

And that doubt, it made Cas rethink the phone conversation he was about to have with his Navy General Grandfather. Because, by the end of the present case, true family might be the only family he had left.

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Sam had never believed that the suit made the man, but he couldn't deny that the feel of a white silk shirt and stripped tie and a well-tailored suit, it made him a different man. A man he hadn't been in years. And seeing his brother in his own suit, the royal blue shirt and snazzy tie speaking of his brother's surprisingly good taste, it brought back memories, good memories. Memories that had hurt to think about in Stanford, during his self-sentenced exile.

Snapping out of his reverie, he shifted on Mr. Miguel Valez's couch beside Dean and focused again on the ex-Kenvert employee.

"So there were other people let go from the company?"

Dean fielded the question with a lie so smooth Sam almost believed it too. "Yes, one of those people hired us to gather information for a wrongful termination claim and when we started investigating, there seemed to be other cases of just such corporate abuse."

Sam piped in, "Your termination in particular seemed unjustified. Would you be willing to tell us the circumstances of your termination?" striving to pull off a sympathetic expression.

Mr. Valez sighed, ran a hand through his dark hair and sank back further into the chair across from his guests. "They claimed that I misrepresented my past employment record. Which I didn't do."

Sensing something in the other man's demeanor, Dean pressed, "Really?"

A tinge of red shaded the man's complexion. "Well…there was the time I worked in my cousin's garage. But I…he wasn't on the up and up all the time. Not that I did anything criminal but…"

"Working for family isn't always easy, I know," Sam commiserated, turned to Dean as felt his brother's hot glare singeing his skin. Fighting to not grit his teeth at his brother's anger at what was only the truth, Sam shot Dean a 'not the time to talk about our family issues' warning before he focused back on Mr. Valez.

Having been dismissed by Sam, Dean demanded of Valez, "So there was no warning? Just one day you came in and they handed you your walking papers?"

"No warnings, no chance to tell my side. My years of service with them didn't matter," the man heatedly replied, clearly was more than ready to get back at his company.

Sam slid the next question in nonchalantly. "And you had access to the entire facility, even the research areas that have high security?"

"Yes. Exactly," Valez confirmed like that was proof in and of itself. "They would have done a criminal check before they ever hired me and I'm clean."

Dean leaned in conspiringly. "We're thinking that your termination had more to do with someone trying to keep you quiet about one of the research projects."

Valez snorted. "Good luck with that. I didn't know anything about the projects in those rooms, 'less it was how much garbage they had and what slobs they were about cleaning up things."

Trying to not be discouraged, Sam dug for more information. "Well maybe it's something else that you saw or heard. There was a project in room E15 that got some notoriety in the press."

"Like I said, I'm not a scientist, couldn't read their gibberish even if you showed it to me."

Feeling the thread of their promising lead fraying in his hands, Sam tried again, his voice more insistent. "Ok, well maybe it's something offhanded that you heard. This project, it was going to go to the military and then it failed testings. Was shut down."

Tilting his head, Valez repeated, "Failed and shut down. That doesn't make any sense. They were partying like they won a million dollars, left the conference rooms filthy, cups still out, trash and food on the floor…."

Eyes meeting, their excitement rising, Dean and Sam said together, "When was this party?"

"Don't know…about a month ago. Took so long for me to clean up that I had to put in two extra hours that night. I'll look on my time card…" Valez offered as he stood up and headed to another room in his house.

Quietly, Dean spoke to Sam. "So the test wasn't a failure, was a roaring success."

"But they don't want the press to know that…" Sam surmised, an excited smile creeping onto his features, finally beginning to feel like he was actually doing something to safeguard his brother.

Re-entering the living room, paystub in hand, Valez drew his visitors' attention again. But only fleetingly.

The next second, something else snagged the two Winchesters' interest: a small red laser light hovering over Miguel Valez's heart.

"Down!" Dean shouted, surging off the couch, was mid-dive, determined to get between Valez and the rifle sight when something slammed him to the carpet, something about the size of his little brother. Pinned under his brother's weight, Dean could only watch as the cracking of glass was instantly followed by the appearance of a blossoming red stain on Valez's chest.

The ex-Kenvert employee gave Dean and Sam a stunned expression before he toppled to the ground.

"No!" Sam growled when Dean tried to throw him off, to crawl out into the open space that divided them from the fallen man. Using his taller frame to advantage, Sam pressed Dean harder into the floor, shouted, "He's dead, Dean! He's dead."

Dean held his breath, watched Valez and hoped for a sign of life. He cursed as none were found. "We gotta…."

Only the ominous sound of more glass shattering heralded the rifle shots that suddenly punched right through the couch that the brothers hid behind.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading! And I owe a debt of gratitude to the wonderfully kind reviews you sent for last chapter that left my smiling instead of crying over my computer woes.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.