Peter wasn't certain how much time had actually passed since he and Neal had been separated.

It felt like ages.

He paced the room, legs aching as he made the same rounds past various parts of the space, becoming numb to the repetition as his anxiety piqued. Yet despite the numbness, he continued. Again and again.

He only paused in two places.

First, when he passed the door which led to the next part of this underground facility. Neal and Dean had left through that door. Several times he tried the knob again, as though the seconds that had passed would somehow offer a different result.

It never did.

Second was when he neared the desk, again delving into thoughts of the prior case from years before, of the pages with faces that drew him back into a haunted history. He stood there, reflecting and reminiscing, before starting the same incessant pacing, repeating the cycle all over again.

He was feeling sick.

Too much time was passing.

His head pounded and throbbed. He didn't know if it was the increasing, accumulating stress or the residual concussion.

Finally, he heard the door opening.

His pacing stopped and he froze in anticipation, staring at the door.

It was Dean who came through the entryway. And he was alone.

Dean looked amused as Peter stared at him.

"Where the hell is Neal?" Peter demanded. He resisted the urge to rush across the room to close the gap between himself and Dean. To get physical. He wanted nothing more in that instance to threaten Dean and to push him, but he also knew that doing so was a battle he wouldn't win, and it wouldn't help the situation. Still, it was hard to resist.

Dean regarded him for another brief moment before he turned back momentarily to ensure the door was closed behind him. "Neal is temporarily indisposed," he responded. "I thought he'd be more cooperative, but I hope I proved a point regardless."

"Proved a point? What point? What's that supposed to mean?" Peter shot back as Dean turned back around to face him.

"You don't get it, do you?" Dean sighed. "I knew he wasn't loud enough."

Peter's posture grew stiffer. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It means you should listen to me," Dean replied stiffly. "This isn't a game where you can just offer conjecture to bide time."

"No one said it was," Peter answered in frustration. "Dean, I'm willing to help you, but no one gets hurt. That's my one condition."

Dean simply chuckled. "Well, it's a little late for that, Peter. Don't you think?"

Peter narrowed his eyes, feeling the anger inside of him boil once again. "I told you to leave him out of this… What did you do to him?"

"He's your CI, huh?"

"This isn't about him. It doesn't matter that he's here - he has nothing to do with this, or getting you what you need."

"Funny, he says otherwise," Dean mused. "He claims he could be quite helpful… But tell me, Peter… Why'd you bother with all that paperwork and liability if he just had four months left. What's he really have to offer?"

Peter clenched his jaw, not responding. Clearly the two had spoken behind the scenes, and he was uneasy to be unaware of the details of the discussion. Neal could be quite creative when he was trying to get his way. Too creative. "Dean - Where is he?" he demanded.

"Oh, don't worry about that for now. But I can tell he's a piece of work," Dean continued. "Not cooperative at all. I needed one thing from him, and one thing only. While he couldn't keep his mouth shut for most of our acquaintance, now - of all times - he chooses to be silent."

Peter felt his heart beat faster in his chest. "Dean…"

"What I can do to him in here," Dean persisted, "is what anyone I have on the outside can do at any moment to anyone we choose… I've been watching you, Peter. And I've been watching you longer than you realize."

Peter swallowed, feeling cold. It was difficult to know what was a bluff and what was real. Dean had always been an intricate character, thinking ten steps ahead. Peter wouldn't put it past him to have some sort of plan here - something that could put everyone's lives at danger. But he didn't react, despite the screaming inside of him. He remained calm and said, "We'll give you what you need."

"Right. So let's get back to what I need, Peter," the man replied, taking a few steps towards him. "You mentioned a phone call. Here's the thing… I've been considering it, but… I don't think it's that easy."

"What do you mean?" Peter persisted with a frown. "It can be that easy if you just let me make the phone call, Dean."

"Somehow I doubt that, Peter."

Peter paused, trying to understand the implications of what Dean was saying. "How am I supposed to help you," he began, "if you won't let me?"

"I didn't say that I wouldn't let you," Dean replied slowly. "C'mon, Peter. You should know not to take things at face value so easily. I'm going to let you help me. I need you to help me, after all."

"How?" Peter persisted. "If you won't let me make a phone call—"

"Enough with the goddamn phone call, Peter…" Dean rolled his eyes.

"I have no other means of getting you what you need, Dean." Peter raised his handcuffed hands. "My hands are literally tied."

"Only for now."

Peter exhaled in exasperation, giving Dean a frustrated, befuddled look. "For now…?"

"Yes."

"Meaning…"

"I might let you go, Peter."

Peter simply stared, not comprehending. How was a hostage situation now going to turn into simply being let go…? "Let me go and what, Dean?" he asked uncertainly.

"You're more equipped out there," Dean replied. "We both know that. Getting what I need while you're under constraints, literally and figuratively, is not in my best interest. That's obvious to both of us, Peter."

Peter still wasn't following. "So you don't want me to coordinate getting you in touch with Samantha."

"Oh, quite the opposite, Peter. You will get me in touch with her. You will get me a meeting. But you won't be doing that from in here."

"Why not?"

"Because that will only lead to a scenario where ironically you have the upper hand." As though sensing Peter's skepticism, he persisted, "Yes, yes, Peter. Don't pretend it isn't so. I know the minute I put you on the phone with your supervisor or whoever it is that you were planning to call, you'll have an ulterior motive. I know you can't do what you need from in here while under duress, not matter what you tell them. In fact, they won't let you."

"No?"

"No. No matter what you say, you know they'll have a plan in opposition… So you need to do it under the appearance of no force. As though you're operating on your own. Finding Samantha will simply be another clue in the case that you need to investigate. No games. You just get me a meeting with her, on my terms, and no one else gets hurt."

"And you're going to let me go free to do that..."

"Now you're catching on."

"And when I'm out of here, knowing where you are, Dean, and back with my team—"

"Oh, before you jump ahead, Peter…" Dean interjected, shaking his head. "Don't forget everything I said before… All of that is still in play. What I don't need is the rest of the Bureau suspicious or trying to interfere. And that's what I'm going to have if we manage this with your so-called phone call from in here."

"So you want me to leave here and pretend what… that nothing happened?"

"Something happened. Your pilot had a terrible accident."

"And that's it?"

"That's it. You're very focused on the case, Peter. The case that's been handed to you. You're not going to let this incident get in the way of that."

"I already called Diana, and asked a pretty suspicious question."

"Diana. That's right…" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Is she another one that means something to you?"

"She's a member of my team," Peter said bluntly.

"And you only asked if anything else had happened," Dean replied. "Barely a conversation. And she confirmed other incidents had happened. What you'll tell your team, Peter, is that it's a coincidence. An unlucky sequence of events. A hexed case."

"Somewhat uncanny though, don't you think?" Peter replied critically. "How are we supposed to explain it? And where have I been all this time?"

"I suppose that'll be the gossip around the water cooler for the days to come, Peter," Dean replied. "I'll let you decide how to deal with that. But unless you want there to be more incidents, deadly ones, then you should listen to what I'm telling you. Believe me when I say I've been watching you. And that doesn't change when you leave here."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "And if I agree.. Then when does it end? When you meet Samantha again?"

"At this point, yes. That's what I'm asking for. No calls, no video – I need to see Samantha in person," Dean replied sternly. "And she must be unaccompanied. I'll give you… three days. That seems more than fair."

"Three day? And what if she doesn't want to see you again?" Peter replied. "I can't force anyone into compliance."

"You can. And you will. Most of your job is doing exactly that, Peter, and this will be no exception if needed…"

"If needed? You think she'll jump at the chance to see you, Dean?"

Dean smirked. "Is it so surprising she might want to see me?"

Peter simply sighed.

"You'll do it," Dean said stiffly. "Unless you want to lose someone near to you. Like I had to."

Peter didn't respond immediately.

"Don't overthink it, Peter," Dean continued. "You already said you would help me."

"And I will. I'll help you," Peter replied. He didn't see an alternative response in the moment. If he refused, it wouldn't mean anything good for them here. But his mind was still processing these changes in plans. He'd been incessantly reiterating in his head the dialogue he would have with Hughes if he did that get promised phone call, and how they would handle it in very few words, creating a semblance of compliance that would at least guarantee their safety to get out of this underground confinement.

Now, it was a new plan.

A plan on the outside.

And while on the surface that seemed like good news to him – they could leave, and they could have more resources on the outside – the way Dean was approaching the situation based on his confidence alone seemed equally dangerous. It was becoming evident that it wouldn't be so easy to turn the tables simply leaving this location. Dean clearly had his own resources. This was a plan where they were walking targets.

And now Dean was just looking at him expectantly. "You're awfully quiet, Peter," he mused.

"So we can leave," Peter stated slowly.

"We?" Dean replied. He smiled and then let out a low chuckle. "Now who is we?"

Peter stared at him with an icy gaze. "It goes both ways, Dean. No games. I already told you he needs to be left out of this. I gave you that one condition."

"I thought your one condition was no one got hurt?" Dean retorted.

"And I thought you already hurt him?" Peter shot back.

"Touche… Alright. No games," Dean replied in agreement, nodding. "But as for Neal… I need some sort of insurance, don't I?"

"I thought you were confident in your ability to control us on the outside."

"I am."

"Then there is no need to keep him here," Peter replied.

"Why do you care, Peter?" Dean tilted his head. "You barely know the guy. He's just a CI. You never cared of the CIs before."

"He's a bystander," Peter replied stiffly, giving Dean a solemn look. "And you should know how I feel about bystanders."

"I notice you didn't use the typical description of 'innocent' bystander, Peter," Dean replied with a smirk. "He's not so innocent, is he?"

Peter glared. "Dean, what's your point?"

"Yet you only got him on… bond forgery?" Dean continued skeptically. "Really, Peter?"

"He leaves with me," Peter replied stiffly.

Dean continued to smile, watching Peter carefully, as though considering the response. Then, he simply nodded. "He can leave with you," he acquiesced. "Consider that your one and only gift, Peter."

Peter didn't question it further. "When?" he asked.

"Ah…" Dean began slowly. "That part isn't really up to me, is it, Peter?"

Peter frowned. He then watched Dean's arm raise to reach behind himself, going for something concealed. He fully expected to see the reemergence of a firearm.

Instead it was Neal's tracking device.

The small yet bulky electronic device, strap crudely cut, dangled from Dean's hand.

Heart beating a little faster, Peter's gaze studied the device for a moment before raising to meet Dean's eyes. "What's that?"

Dean laughed, lips curling up into a sinister smile again. "Oh, Peter, don't play dumb. You know we both know damn well what it is."

Peter cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"So when are they coming?" Dean asked. He raised his eyebrows. He didn't seem irked by the discovery. "You seem surprised, Peter."

"It's damaged," Peter said.

"Aesthetically," Dean replied. "I know from first hand experience how difficult it is to actually damage these devices. Even the old, clunky antique that was commissioned to me. This version is quite… sleek."

Neal would disagree, Peter thought to himself silently.

"But clearly the clock is ticking," Dean replied. "Which you've known all along. Hence, my change in plans…"

Neal had just closed his eyes.

Seated on the floor, his body ached. The floor was cold, and the room felt barren, without many tools at his disposal. He found he couldn't stop shivering, and had given up attempting to shift to find a better position that might offer more comfort.

When Dean first left him, he had immediately sprung to action, adrenaline mitigating the resistance his body objected with as he searched the room. First was the door, locked. Next, the desk drawers, empty beyond a couple notebooks and dull pencils. There was a ballpoint pen and a paperclip in the last drawer, which he pocketed as though a MacGyver moment could arise later. Next he examined the walls.

In a manic cycle he had tried all of it again and again- the door, the desk, the corners, the ceiling – until he nearly collapsed, finally allowing himself to lower to the floor. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, breathing in and out uncomfortably.

His thoughts raced. He didn't know if Dean had returned to the other room with Peter or had disappeared again.

He tried slipping the cuffs for a few minutes. His skin grew raw with the futile effort. They were too tight.

He debated getting up again to search for a way out. But he ultimately refrained. This was 'playing along' after all.

It was when he first finally closed his eyes that he suddenly heard the sound of the door unlocking.

The sound made him spring to his feet, yet his body wasn't ready and he awkwardly stumbled along the way. He was only halfway upright when the door actually swung open.

Dean's reappearance made him go into defense mode. He straightened instantly as his instincts screamed fight or flight, despite 'flight' not really being an option. He backed away, raising his bound hands in front of himself in preparation.

"At ease, CI. I'm not here for round two," Dean told him coldly, looming in the doorway. "Come with me."

Neal stayed frozen in place. "Come with you where?" he asked slowly with uncertainty. He was hesitant to follow any instructions from this man. He considered the ballpoint pen in his pocket and whether or not it would make an effective weapon.

Dean noted his reluctance and stepped aside from the doorway, revealing the presence of Peter behind him.

Neal's hands dropped slightly in front of him, partially at ease that his handler was within eyesight again. "Peter," he spoke, exhaling a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The other man had a solemn look on his face as he made eye contact with him.

"Go ahead. Tell him," Dean directed, turning to move his attention to Peter.

"Tell me what?" Neal asked.

"He's letting us go, Neal," Peter spoke. His expression didn't change. There was something in his eyes though. Like he wished to say more…

Neal frowned at first, considering the sudden change in plans. Peter must have made the phone call. He must have been truly convincing. He was amazed at how quickly it had happened. Was it even possible? Surely Dean would have wanted a more definite confirmation than could have possibly been achieved in the time that had passed. "Really?" he asked.

"Really," Dean responded. "See his hands, pretty boy? Does he look like a captive to you?"

Neal's eyes dropped down to Peter's hands. Sure enough, they were no longer shackled. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, free.

"You're a different story," Dean continued. "For the grief you've given me, you can figure out those cuffs on your own."

Neal didn't care about the cuffs. "We can leave?" he repeated, looking now at Dean.

"You can leave on my terms," Dean responded. "Which your friend is fully aware of. You can thank him for your early departure as well."

"Early departure?" Neal echoed, frowning. He looked at Peter, but the man just shook his head slightly.

Neal was confused by the messaging but didn't want to challenge it. If they could leave, he wanted to leave. The question was how.

"Follow me," Dean told him, gesturing him forward. "We don't have much time." With that he turned and started to walk away with swift steps. He was headed down the hallway in the other direction, away from the previous room they'd been held.

Neal hesitated, locking eyes with Peter, who also remained in the same position. He then moved towards the doorway, leaving the barren room behind him and closing the distance between himself and Peter. He glanced in the direction of Dean, who continued down the hall.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked him in a hushed voice, looking him up and down. He reached out to touch Neal's forearm. "What'd he do to you?"

"I'm fine," Neal lied as he shifted out of Peter's reach. He could tell Peter was skeptical. His clothing was torn and disheveled. He felt sweaty despite the cold chills he felt. He was bruised and battered. He looked the opposite of fine. He knew that.

"You sure?" Peter persisted.

"Well, a shower would be nice."

"Neal..."

"I'm fine," Neal hissed. "Are you? Do we have a choice?"

"Start walking now!" Dean bellowed from now several yards ahead.

Peter gave Neal an exasperated look but then gestured him forward as he began walking himself. "We need to move. Come on."

Neal fell in step with Peter, taking broad steps. Leaving. They were leaving. He could manage the energy for that. "Peter, you got him what he wanted?" he asked. He kept his voice low. "How?"

"Not exactly…."

Neal frowned. The walls were monotonous and dimly lit as they followed Dean. "Then why is he letting us go?"

"I'll explain when we're out, Neal." Peter's voice was gruff.

Neal continued to walk but suddenly felt uneasy. It didn't make any sense. "Why would he let us go if he doesn't have what he wants, Peter?" he asked.

"I'll explain when-"

"No," Neal objected. He stopped walking. He could see Dean up ahead, about fifteen feet in the distance. The hallway in front of him seemed endless. "Where are we going?" He glanced back to where they had come from.

Peter turned, impatient. "Neal, trust me. We don't have time. You've gotta keep walking."

"How do you know he's taking us to get out versus taking us somewhere deeper in here?" Neal persisted. His heart started to pound. "You keep saying to go along, Peter. And I'm going along. I am. But go along how far? I'm not about to –"

"Neal." Peter stepped forward and put his hands on Neal's shoulders, gripping him tightly. "Trust me."

"I do," Neal managed, though he wavered slightly in tone. "I don't trust him."

"I know," Peter acknowledged. "I know. But we need to move."

"He's trapping us," Neal warned.

"He's letting us go," Peter assured. He dropped his arms and then started to walk away, in the direction of Dean. "Follow me, Neal."

Neal sighed. Peter kept walking.

He hesitated, watching Peter get a foot further away each moment he waited.

He could run back. He could return to where they'd been. He knew there was an exit there, to get back above ground. It wasn't far. But they were getting farther from that each step they took towards Dean.

Peter was also getting further away.

"Dammit," he cursed after another moment's deliberation.

Feeling torn and undecided, yet also between a rock and a hard place, he gave in against better judgment and jogged to catch up with Peter, grunting in frustration. When he reached Peter's side again and matched his pace once more, he muttered, "Were you going to leave me there?"

"I knew you'd follow," Peter replied.

Taking deep breaths and shaking his head, Neal simply responded. "You better be right about this, Peter."