FIVE

Moonlighting

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Dean just stood, completely floored. His mouth formed a tiny 'o' shape, his eyebrows darting up in tiny yet perfectly formed triangles of cluelessness.

"And that face," Martin said eagerly, opening his folder again and scribbling with his pen, "is exactly how it looked in my head when I was reading page forty-two."

"The what and the what?" Dean managed. "What are you talking about? And who is this Radar guy anyway?" he added, affronted, chucking a thumb at Martin and looking at Katie as if her poor assistant had three heads.

"This is Mr Martin Fox - my amazing everything-man," she said proudly. "He seems to think you would fit the bill." She stood back one, letting her eyes sweep down the Winchester and up again. "I think he's right. Have to do something about the too many layers of clothing, though."

Dean patted his hands against his jacket front as he looked himself over, his tenuous grasp on the conversation just enough to inform him that he was way, way out of his depth. He realised someone was behind his shoulder and looked up to find his brother smiling in rather a malicious fashion.

"If you want my cousin in your TV show, you'll have to talk to me about it," Sam said, shouldering in.

"You're his agent?" Katie asked, transferring her attention to the taller man.

"I am. He's the good-looking one, but he's not particularly bright," he nodded. He was slapped in the back of the shoulder but ignored it. "So what's the state of play, here? Do you actually have the rights to this story yet?"

Katie folded her arms. "Not yet. But I hope Chuck and his team," she said patiently, nodding to Becky across the room with a polite smile, "will let us have that real soon. We're all eager to get going on this."

"Now wait a minute, lady," Dean began, but Sam turned and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Now, now, Harry. Why don't you go get some coffee and let me talk to Katie about this?" he said pleasantly. "Take Clarence. Show him the studios." He tipped his head forward and stared meaningfully, and Dean's chin tilted upwards.

"The studios, right," he nodded. "Yeah, ah, good idea." Sam patted his shoulders and Dean turned on Castiel. "Hey Clarence - you've always wanted to go looking round a studio, right?"

To say that the angel seemed less than enthusiastic would be to assume he had any interest in the people in the room whatsoever. In fact, he was staring toward the exit doors. "We are wasting time. We have a lot of work to do."

Martin snapped his fingers. "Miss Frye, we have another winner," he said quickly, opening his folder again to write some more notes.

"What's that?" she asked, interested.

"Mr - er - Clarence, here," he said quickly. "He could play John."

Sam, Dean and Castiel turned in such perfect synchronisation it could have been rehearsed.

"What?" they managed in harmonious unison.

Martin nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. He fits the description in the book and he has the voice - that's the kind of voice John would have." He looked up at the three men staring at him. "Although his diction is too good, possibly because he's foreign. We'll have to get him a coach. Oh, and we'll have to check about work permits, of course."

"Get on it," Katie nodded. "Good work."

"Next you'll be saying you want my cousin to play Sam," Dean sighed.

"Oh no - Sam's much more emo than he is," Martin said dismissively.

Dean's eyes high-fived each other as they turned and looked at Sam, thumbing their noses in rude approval of the description of the taller Winchester's emotional state. Sam smiled tightly, pulling his jacket straight.

"That's fine," Sam allowed flatly. "Acting is for people who never finished school."

Dean's malicious smirk fled his face faster than rats from a sinking ship and he turned to Castiel resolutely. "Come on then, Clarence. Let's go see how magic is made," he said loudly, slapping the back of a hand to his arm and gesturing him to the door with his head.

Sam watched the two of them wander out of the staff room and turned back to Katie. "So then, how do we do this?" he asked suavely.

Katie smiled, the amusement touching her eyes. She let her head cant just slightly as she put her hands in the tiny back pockets of her pinstripe trousers.

"Martin," she said quietly, "Mr Harrison and I--"

Sam raised a finger. "Ah - Luke."

"Luke," she nodded, "are going to my office to thrash this out. Please make sure we're not disturbed."

Martin's faithful face went from Katie to Sam and back again. "Yes, Miss Frye," he sighed, his shoulders sagging as he turned away.

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Dean pressed the button for the lift, watching the corridor around them. Castiel kept his unblinking, unwavering gaze on the side of the Winchester's head until Dean's patience imploded in a ball of self-righteous indignation.

"What?" he demanded, turning to look at the angel.

"I never noticed before," Castiel admitted, as if in wonder, his eyes wandering over Dean's face and then up into his hair.

"What? What didn't you notice?" Dean cried, riled at the candid scrutiny.

"You are actually quite handsome. You could be an actor. You would appear very dashing in a black and white movie. Like one of those made in the nineteen fifties about monsters like werewolves."

"Stop. Just stop," Dean said quickly, his hands going up in a braking gesture. "We are going looking for evidence of demonic possession and/or weird behaviour before those three people were ganked."

"That lady seems to like us."

"Hey, Starstruck," Dean accused, snapping his fingers in the angel's face, "mind on the job, huh? You were the one who was all gung-ho to get us down here to start ganking demons. So get your mind back in the game and start ganking demons."

"Yes. You are right," Castiel nodded, turning to look at the elevator doors.

Dean simply huffed, rubbing his forehead. The lift pinged and the doors opened obediently to reveal a black suited man with a Bluetooth headset jammed in one ear.

"Mr Harrison?" said the tall, wide gentleman.

Dean took in his black suit and rather obvious build. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm Phil. I've been asked by Miss Frye to show you around," he said, and then he looked the Winchester up and down, smiling slightly. "You're an actor, right?"

"Apparently," Dean sighed, walking into the lift. Castiel followed, his hands falling into his raincoat pockets.

"Shall we start the tour at the ground floor?"

"We shall," Castiel confirmed seriously, prompting Dean's eyes to shift at him from the corners of their sockets in barely restrained amusement.

He cleared his throat, turning to look at Phil. "So you been here a while?"

"A few years, yes. Miss Frye appreciates my… efficiency," he allowed, pushing a button. The elevator doors closed and it began to whisk downwards. "So, Mr Clarence, what do you think of the States?"

"The state of what?" Castiel asked innocently.

"He means America," Dean said slowly, hiding a smile. Couldn't have picked a better foreigner if we'd tried.

"Oh. It's very… big."

"The world's third largest," Phil nodded.

"Fourth," Castiel put in politely. "The FBI factbook conveniently counts the USA's coastal regions while ignoring China's, which is why they think your country is bigger. It is not."

There was an awkward silence.

"You'll have to excuse him," Dean said quietly, his jaw sticking out in innocence as he nodded slightly. "He's from Sweden."

"Switzerland," Castiel corrected.

Silence resumed until they reached the ground floor.

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Sam accepted the large chair and the black coffee, settling himself into both with ease. Katie Frye sat in her seat at the end of the table, putting her Blackberry on the glass-topped desk and watching the man in front of her.

"So, Luke," she said with a smile. "What brings you out to LaLa Land?"

"Work," he shrugged. "It's easier to get my cousin gigs if he's here."

"And how long have you and your cousin been in the business? Seems to me like he's not exactly hip to all this and how it works."

"No, he's not… He's a little… awkward to work with sometimes. But that's why family make the best agents - a quick hook punch and we're good," he teased.

She grinned and put her elbow on the desk, letting her chin sink into her hand. "You are a wonder," she sighed. "Do you think he'd be able to take on a show of this size? I mean, as long as we survive the first six episodes Fox will pay for - including the pilot - we should get a green light for an entire first series."

"He'll be fine. He might be a little terse, but hey, that's what Martin wants, right?"

She smiled. "Yes. Martin's a very keen judge of people - he often sees things and picks actors I would have passed over. As long as he performs on screen, we don't mind having a Russell Crowe around. It would be fun, actually."

"There's just one question," Sam said gingerly.

"Shoot."

He smiled in irony. "It's just that… Fox. We're not hot on the idea of Fox being the network for the show."

"And why's that?"

"They don't have a very good track record when it comes to backing new material," he sighed. "Now if it went into syndication, then…" He shrugged.

"Oh, I hear you there," she said. "I could not believe they cancelled Arrested Development. Idiots. And then Firefly, too! Not to mention Drive. Maybe they have something against Nathan Fillion… Anyway, talk about niche markets and owning the fan audience! And they let it go!"

"Yeah well… We'd like some kind of contract that means we get at least a whole season."

"Hmm…" She sat back slowly. "That would keep you around for a while. You two," she added quickly.

Sam grinned. "Yes, it would, wouldn't it?" He sipped at his coffee. "Um, do they have food in this place? You've been working all morning, and then with all the police and whatever, you must be starving."

"Then let's go eat," she said, getting to her feet. "You can tell me about yourself."

"And you can tell me all about the network here. It's fascinating," he said, smiling broadly.

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"So tell me, Phil," Dean said, "did you know this Amy Levus?"

"I did," Phil said awkwardly, as the lift came to a stop. He reached out and put his finger on the Hold button, keeping the doors open politely for his two guests as they stepped out into the foyer. "She was a nice girl. A bit driven, but she'd been at this company for many years. She knew everyone, got everything done."

"Sounds like the place is going to limp on without her though," Dean observed.

"It'll try. Amy will be hard to replace, she just connected everything," Phil replied. "You could say she was the reason this place actually functions at all."

"That's too bad," Dean commiserated. They stood in the foyer as Phil looked around.

"So, gentlemen, what would you like to see first?"

"I would like to know more about this Bob Pattinson," Castiel said abruptly. "And where he was while he was working for you."

Phil looked at him, surprised, but Dean put a hand out in innocence. "He's a big fan," he said. "And you know how overseas fans are."

"Oh, yeah," Phil smiled. "Well, he wasn't really working for us yet - his agent barely had a desk, but he was seen hovering round it a few times. I shouldn't really, but… seeing as he's come such a long way. This way, sirs," he said, turning and walking off.

Dean turned to Castiel. "Not subtle, dude," he hissed from the side of his mouth.

"This Amy may have been important to this place. We must see what happened to her and how this Bob killed her."

"It was a knife, remember?" Dean hissed, pushing him to follow the rapidly disappearing escort. "We make nice with Phil, learn all he knows, and get a look at the crime scene. We also gotta find out about the other two dead guys."

"I will do that."

"You will not let him know we're not actors, and you'd better make sure no-one finds out why we're really here - or they'll have us arrested for being whack-jobs," Dean urged as they caught up with Phil. "So I hear Amy was like the third person here that's been… uh, killed?" he asked carefully.

"Don't worry - we look after our actors. I mean, apart from the obvious like we need you to complete filming an entire series, we also find it bad publicity for one of our stars to die in the middle of one," he said, only slightly sarcastically.

"But if an actor were to die while still filming, the profile of the show would be much inflated," Castiel said suddenly. "It would be advantageous for the publicity department."

Dean nudged him but Phil sighed, rubbing his forehead. "There is that, I suppose," he allowed. "But really - if we have actors in place and then one dies, we can't really replace him and expect the audience to accept the new guy."

"I believe they do this with James Bond," Castiel argued.

"Anyway," Dean put in loudly, "we were just wondering why it seems to be staff here that some nutjob is targeting. I mean, why the people behind the scenes? Why execs at all?"

"That is something I hope the police find out quickly," Phil said as they walked. "Amy was the glue for this place, sure, but Charles and Eric were very influential in directing and creating."

"Those were the other two guys that died? Wow. They sound so ordinary," Dean said. "Must be tough to recruit replacements right now."

"A little," Phil nodded. "But I'm sure the police will clear all this up." He looked at Dean for a moment. "You're very interested in this whole thing. Mind if I ask why, Mr Harrison?"

"Oh it's just like… well, it's kinda like one of Chuck's books, huh?" Dean said, only just realising it himself. "In fact, I bet he's wishing he'd written this one."

"I haven't read Mr Shurley's work," Phil said. "No time. I'm told they're very good stories, though. Pity more people haven't read them."

"That could work for you - when you make it into a series no-one will be nitpicking," Dean grinned.

"Oh, I'm sure the legions of underground fans will do that anyway. If not to us, then on millions of internet forums," Phil sighed.

"Novels Without Pity is particularly good for that," Castiel said.

The other two men looked at him - just looked. The angel noticed and sniffed, looking around as they walked. Then he stopped dead, turning to look back at the elevators. He put a hand out and grabbed Dean's sleeve.

"What?" the Winchester asked quickly.

"That man," Castiel said, nodding to the lone figure pressing the elevator button.

Dean was already turning and starting toward him. But the angel grabbed for his elbow this time.

"No," he warned.

"That's the demon?" Dean hissed, even as the man in question stiffened. He turned and looked across the lobby at the three men watching him, and even from thirty feet away it was obvious he was alarmed.

"No," said Castiel, his hands dropping to his sides. "It is Ramiel."

"Who?"

"An angel."

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