Lincoln Central Facility

Dean led the charge, Rachel sandwiched in the middle with Sam taking up the rear as they single-file walked through the institution. They followed a nurse down a long hall, taking a sharp left into an almost darkened corner of the building. With three doors to buzz through, Lincoln Central certainly kept all of the worst hidden away, sealed tight.

The nurse opened them up to an interrogation room, where Dean ushered Rachel in first, the two brothers following behind. It was empty, save for them. "They'll be bringing him in momentarily," the nurse informed them, leaving with what seemed like relief.

All three of them stood, keeping to themselves as they waited. Silence thickened between them, each occupied in their own thoughts and concerns. Still, when the door opened, Sam instinctively went on the defense, purposely moving in front of Rachel to partially conceal her.

James Gray was led to the table. He was a thin, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and narrow eyes, dressed in tan scrubs and wrapped in heavy body chains. The guards secured him to bolted rings on the floor before they left for their post outside of the room. A dog on a leash, Gray fixed his eyes on Rachel immediately despite Sam's build.

"Agents Russell, Elliott, and Markson," Dean said, briefly gaining Gray's attention as he stepped closer. "FBI. We have some questions for you about the missing women."

"What is that thing doing here in my presence?" Gray asked. Sam kept Rachel partially concealed, on edge as he saw Gray's intense glare at her.

""Hey, listen," Dean said, pulling Gray's focus to himself. "Why don't you worry about what I'll be asking you instead of her?"

Gray studied Dean. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to hear more about this angel you think is responsible for the abductions."

"Not think, know." Gray's eyes narrowed. "Arioch, the Watcher. He desires them. The Watchers' dominion makes them rightfully theirs."

"Where does Arioch bring them?"

"Here. There. He doesn't say, really."

"Did he take Hailey Jodiak?"

"What does it look like?" Gray asked. Dean glanced over at Sam, silently contemplating his response. He took out a photo of Hailey from his inner suit pocket, sliding it to him on the table. "Yes," Gray nodded, studying it. "He chose that one."

"Where is he keeping her?"

"It's not for me to question."

"Did he take the other missing women?"

Gray shifted his focus to Rachel. A hint of a smile curled his lips. "He requires fresh ones at least once a month during feeding and breeding times."

"And are we in one of those times?"

"Maybe."

"What does he do with the women?" Sam asked.

"It is not for me to question."

"Do you help him pick the women?"

"Oh, no. I am but a lowly messenger of the Lord. Arioch does not need my help. He takes whatever he wishes." Gray replied, looking Sam over. "He would be very pleased with that one. Is it your property?"

"I'm no one's property, dirtbag," Rachel growled.

Gray's eyes widened. "How dare you speak, you insolent creature." He spit on the ground.

She moved past Sam, approaching the table. "I'll talk whenever I'd like. I'll also make sure your life is a living hell if you don't start giving us some specifics." She eyed him. "What does Arioch look like?" With a sneer, Gray remained silent. "I said, what does he look like?"

Sam yanked Rachel back as Gray lunged toward her, the chains stopping him short. "Shut your mouth, you filthy beast. You—" he said to Sam. "—control your property."

"Answer the question," Dean interrupted as Sam kept a firm grip on Rachel.

"How should I know what vessel he chooses?" Gray shrugged. "He changes them, depending on what he wishes to take."

"Give us one of them."

"I can't. It's not for me to question."

Dean took a deep breath. "So, he switches out meat suits depending on what woman he's after?"

"Yes," Gray replied, eyeing Rachel. He studied her silently for a minute, a smile languidly widening across his face. "Be obedient. Purpose has come," he said to her. "It won't be long now."

"Eyes up here," Dean ordered. Gray slowly looked back to him. "How many women has he taken?"

"It's not for me to question."

Sam pressed his lips together, sharing a look with Dean. They were getting nowhere, and fast. "Fine. What are you allowed to know?" Dean asked.

"Arioch shows me what they see."

"What do they see?" Sam asked.

"What they wish to," Gray said. "They are imbeciles."

"What does Hailey see?"

Gray closed his eyes, craning his neck as he sat in silence. "What it always desired," he murmured. "Perfection. Money. Love."

"What about the others?"

"Family. Success. Children. Power." Gray opened his eyes. "They see it, but don't know it."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Why does Arioch let them see those things?" Sam asked.

"It makes the soul sweeter," Gray grinned.

Rachel shifted, still under Sam's careful grip. "What does he do with them when he's done?" she asked. Gray remained quiet.

"Answer her," Dean growled.

"He rids himself of those he no longer needs."

"Where?"

"It is not for me to question."

Dean inhaled deeply. "Is Hailey alive?" he asked.

Gray smiled. "More than it has ever been."

Rachel shut her motel room door, dead-bolting it with a deep sigh. They were right—Gray was a Class A psycho. Very little of what he said about Hailey made sense, but she knew at least with Sam and Dean's help, she would get closer to answers than on her own.

She stripped off her FBI suit, hanging it in the tiny closet as she hunted through her bag for a change of clothes. She opted for yoga leggings and a New York Yankees sweatshirt, switching out her heels for tennis shoes.

In the bathroom, she took out her contact lenses, feeling relieved to be wearing her black plastic glasses. Contacts irritated her eyes, but she knew it was helpful in creating a persona. She sank her fingers into the roots of her hair, rubbing her scalp as she left the bathroom, swiping up her cell phone. A text from Sam from a minute ago was waiting:

Pizza?

She typed a reply, sending it.

Sounds good. I'm buying.

Rachel smirked when she saw Sam's response:

Nope. We got it. :)

She dug out her wallet anyway, grabbing enough cash for the two pizzas they'd likely order, bringing her cell phone with her as she headed to their room.

With a quick knock on the door, she waited, looking out into the dusky night from the balcony she was on. The door opened, and she turned back as Sam answered. He wearing a simple gray tee shirt and jeans, his brow raising as he thoroughly looked her over. "Come in," he said in a raspy voice, stepping aside as he cleared his throat. As she walked past him, she tucked the bills she brought for the food into his back jean pocket. She did it so quickly that she didn't get a feel of anything, but she still felt her cheeks heat a little from her own boldness. With a smirk, she turned and headed for the far bed, hearing Sam cough a little behind her.

Dean was on the phone ordering the pies, so Sam sat next to her. "I didn't know you wore glasses," he said, glancing over at her. They made her look ever more innocent than she did before. He almost blurted out asking how old she was, but he stopped himself, thankfully.

"Contacts dry my eyes out," she replied. "I just use them to be Meg."

Sam nodded, smiling softly. "They suit you."

Rachel glanced over at him, watching how his hair brushed against his forehead. "Thanks."

"Alright," Dean said with a satisfied grin, "we've got a pepperoni with extra cheese, and some veggie crap coming." He looked to Rachel, his brow arching. "I dig it," he said, gesturing to her glasses.

"Thanks," she replied. "My treat for the pizza." She glanced over at Sam, giving him a knowing look; she swore she saw his cheeks tint.

"Nah, you don't have—"

"I know. I gave Sam the money already."

Dean nodded. "Well, thanks, darling."

Rachel shrugged. "You guys covered lunch. It's the least I can do." She scooted back on the mattress, tucking her legs under herself. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well," Sam said, "we don't have access to the same resources as at the bunker, but we figured we can try to research as much as we know about grigoris to help us possibly hone in on some clues."

"Gray said something I thought was interesting," Rachel side, glancing between the two. "He says they 'see what they wish to see.' Is it just me, or does that sound like a trip of some sort? Or do you think he meant Heaven?"

"Grigoris are known to have manipulative powers," Sam replied. He flipped open his laptop, pulling up a search and plugging some things in. His brows knitted together as he read the screen. "Says here for some of the lure on them, grigoris are able to induce their victims into a trance-like state to subdue them."

"Through touch, I'm guessing," Dean said, sitting on the bed across from them.

"Seems like it. It also says they also feed on the soul of a victim over a long period of time."

"'Makes the soul sweeter,'" Rachel murmured, echoing Gray's words as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "So, if grigoris need time, they'd hypnotize their victims."

"Making them complacent," Sam added.

"Making them see what they want," Dean murmured. "Like the Djinn?"

Sam nodded. "Okay, so we've got a being with the ability to entrance its victims. Where would he keep them?"

Rachel moved next to Sam, taking the laptop from him and sitting on the mattress as she began typing away. Sam just watched with wide eyes, while Dean gave him a smirk, chuckling. "So," Rachel said slowly, flipping through browser windows with impressive speed, unaware of Dean's teasing, "the victims are all within a thirty-mile radius of Lincoln. He likes to stay local. Why?" She looked up at Sam, finding him a lot closer than she thought he was. She swallowed, catching the scent of his cologne.

"Maybe Arioch stays in an area for a while, then shifts to new ones?" he asked. He watched as she pulled up some news articles. "That one," he said from over her shoulder, pointing to the screen. She clicked it and they read it together. "Same pattern of missing people."

"So, he travels. Do we know why and when?"

"May I?" Sam asked, gesturing to the laptop.

"Oh … Sure," Rachel murmured, twisting a little to hand it to him.

"Thanks," he smiled.

As Rachel leaned in a little to watch, she caught Dean's muffled laugh from across the way. "What?" she asked, glancing at him.

Dean shook his head, a thoroughly amused grin plastered on his face. "Nothing," he replied. "I'm just thinking about how much more I like you right now for getting me off the hook with that stuff." He waved to the computer.

Rachel grinned back. "So, you liked me before?"

"What's not to like, sweetheart?" He looked at Sam as Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes and focused back on the laptop screen. "Right, Sammy?"

Sam's eyes widened a little as he looked up from the laptop, shooting Dean a murderous look. "Didn't you say you were leaving?" he asked stiffly as Dean held in his laughter.

"Oh yeah," Dean nodded, barely keeping himself together. "Beer run." He stood, snickering as he grabbed his keys. "Anything I should avoid, Rachel?"

"Just all the douchebag hipster shit," she replied. She paused, looking up at him. "Unless that's what you guys drink, because—"

"Relax, sweetheart," Dean said. "You're talking to the guy whose only music he owns are six classic rock CDs in his car." He winked, then looked over at Sam, who was still gritting his teeth together. "Have fun."

Dean left, clicking the door shut behind himself. Sam tried to quell the flush that Dean's teasing gave him, stretching his neck to the side as he focused back on the laptop. "Alright," he said, deeply exhaling, "so we know he travels. And it seems like he has a pattern of victims."

"Is there a pattern for where he travels?" Rachel asked, looking through the articles with Sam.

"Only that he tends to stick to rural areas," Sam murmured.

"Easier to hide bodies?"

"Easier to hide himself too."

Rachel studied the screen intently. "What if …" Without thinking, she gripped Sam's broad shoulder, pushing up to her knees and kneeling beside him on the mattress, hunching over a little to get closer to the screen. Sam's pulse stopped for a moment as her hand remained on his shoulder for balance, her other reaching over his hand to scroll down. He smelled her shampoo lingering in her dark waves; his stomach knotted. "The victims in Missouri were all African American, and the ones in Texas were blonde Caucasians. So, what if there's more than one grigori? Gray said women were the Watchers' dominion, so—"

"Maybe they're feeding and procreating in different locations," Sam finished, barely focused on the research.

Rachel turned to look at him, immediately letting go of his shoulder and backing up when she saw how close she was. "Sorry," she stammered, sinking back. "I didn't mean to …"

"It's alright," Sam replied softly. "So," he said, wetting his dry throat, "Arioch is one of several. And if he's the Alpha-"

"-then we have a shot at destroying the others," she finished quietly.

Sam quickly wet his lips as he met Rachel's eyes. His hand clenched around the laptop, his chest tightening. "It won't be easy, but it's possible," he murmured, looking intently at her mouth.

A knock at the door smashed through the tension between them. Rachel got off the bed quickly. "I'll get it," she said, taking the money from Sam and hurrying to the door. She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. Breathe, dumbass. It's Sam Winchester. He might as well be Prince Harry with how far out of reach his is.

With a quick check through the peephole, she opened the door. A well-built delivery man with sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes was there, holding two pizzas. "Pepperoni with extra cheese, and veggie for … Van Halen?" he asked.

Rachel nodded. "How much?"

"$28.95."

She gave him $35. "Keep the change," she said, handing him the money. When he took the money, he held her hand. Rachel immediately relaxed, the tension from being so close to Sam instantly melting away. It was as if her body and mind disconnected, one running separately from the other, but both complacent.

The delivery man smiled at her, studying her as she stared blankly at him. "You're quite beautiful," he whispered, lifting her wrist to his nose and drawing in a breath, a satisfied growl in his throat as he caught the scent he longed to taste.