"So what's our cover today, FBI?"
"I think they might already be there, it is pretty high profile."
"CIA?"
"What would they be doing?"
"Counter-terrorism?"
"Isn't that what the FBI would be doing?"
"Do I look like I'm in the FBI?"
"Actually, yes," Devi quipped, "You really need a haircut though; you're starting to look like big foot."
"When someone starts hunting me I'll cut it," he was still messing with his tresses in the mirror. Devi laughed silently; he took more time than she did.
They'd laid out the plan for today; no one could get into the SucroCorp factories because of the security systems, designed from within the company. And since no one in the company could be found or contacted, no one could override them. And no one could really figure out why all the doors were refurbished bank vault doors, or why the concrete was so thick and so reinforced, but the police and specialists had given up trying to break in and settled for staking out in front of the factories. They'd managed to hit another factory before security got too thick, but now it was double everywhere.
They walked up to the gates, police waited around with riot shields, the captain stood straight and paced.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Agent Forest," Devi introduced herself, and then motioned to Sam, "Agent Holly." The police chief gave a curt nod as they flipped open falsified badges. "We're here on official business."
"What business? There ain't much to do but wait and see, Agent."
"With all due respect, sir I think we know more about the situation than you do."
Sam looked at the woman; she knew how to get her way, and he had to give her that. Somewhere between the one button to open blouse, and the power-bitch face he could see the captain crumbling.
"Fine, fine. What do you want us to do?"
"Just let us handle everything, you can just stay here."
He brushed Devi's hand to get her attention, she paid no mind. She was too busy deviating from the plan.
"Alright, whatever you say, Agents." The captain looked skeptical as he lead them through the gates.
"Wait out there, please. And wait until we come back for further instruction, dismissed."
When they turned the corner of the building and Devi had pulled out her laptop and started working on the electronic locks with intel they and Andy had discovered, Sam just stared at her as she kneeled on the ground.
"Can I help you, Winchester?"
"What the hell were you doing?"
"Changing things."
"Why?"
"Do you really think they'd just leave, without question, without checking in, and not check in on orders, on us when they get back? Are you really that dense, Sam?" She looked at him, annoyed.
She had a point, but still, "Tell me beforehand when you do that shit, what if I had taken over things."
"I wouldn't have let you."
"But wha—"
"You seriously underestimate my determination to blow these toothy bastards to hell. Nothing is going to stand in my way, not the cops, not you, not locks."
The door clicked, the lock had been disengaged. She smiled and slipped the sleek laptop back into her messenger bag. The locks weren't that hard if you had a computer that could decrypt ancient Samarian riddles. She doubted the FBI, CIA, MIB, MI6 or anyone had someone with Andy's level of boredom or paranoia. She and Sam were both glad.
"So we're just going to blow the building with those people out there?"
"No, we're going to fry the levi with borax and then torch the scene with one incendiary, say it was a trip wire leading to a gruesome slaughter. We don't even have to lie that much!" She smiled and waved her machete in the air as if it were a parade baton, hips swinging as she walked ahead of him to the maintenance room.
They had the maps, when the shrouded star rose they'd be off. Dean pretended to sleep, and watched Castiel stare into the dying coals of the fire with the intensity of a scholar studying a confounding problem. It was probably suicide. Walking into a monster's heavily guarded citadel, finding the throne room, and opening the portal. Not even probably, more like definite. But so was staying here. Starving to death, or being eaten. They had to do something.
"Cas?"
"You should be asleep," he sounded like a stressed parent. Someone with bills piling up, working three jobs, and still not making ends meet, just trying to provide. And in a way he was. Problems and bodies piled up around him. He was an angel, a protector, and faking his death. He was just trying to get Dean home safe, but he probably couldn't even do that in the end. He said it with such an exasperated sigh, Dean's heart hurt.
"Come here."
"Excuse me?" he turned to the hunter, one eyebrow cocked.
"I'm asking you to come here, sit with me. It's cold, I could use another body," he worried it sounded stupid and Castiel would see through it, but the angel rose gracefully and sat next to Dean. "Now lay down." Castiel obliged and laid with his back to Dean, his arm under his head. The hunter wiggled closer and breathed in Castiel's scent. It was so soothing to him. He could feel the warmth from the angel. "Can I put my arm around you?"
"I suppose."
Castiel could feel Dean's breath gently tickling his neck as the firm, warm arm slipped over his chest. He was spooning with Dean Winchester in a root cellar in purgatory. Just before he thought things couldn't get any more impossible, he felt Dean's lips press to the back of his neck.
"Cas, I'm sorry for everything," he muttered softly between kisses.
"Dean, you don't have to do this," the arm tightened around him when he began to pull away.
"You were right."
"About?"
"How I feel."
"Oh."
"We'll make it out, both of us. And we'll figure this out."
"Why the change of heart? It's very unlike you."
"Not a change of heart, Cas. Just realized life's too short, especially lives like mine, to deny yourself things."
"I will make sure you live a long life, Dean Winchester."
"I'm holding you to that one, angel boy."
He nipped at the nape of Cas' neck gently before placing a final kiss and drifting off to sleep.