A/N: Hey there! So, just wrote this today and a lot of the pieces of this story started to fall into place for me. I'm really starting to like this story - I hope y'all are too! Sorry about it being so late ... On the bright side, this is the longest chapter I've written yet!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the FBI. However, this really strange and slightly creepy story is mine.
The Righteous Man
Chapter Two: It's a Small World After All
"Hey, sleepy head," Sam Winchester heard a sweet voice say somewhere in the distance. "It's time to get up! You're going to be late for work."
Sam groaned, sounding a bit like a caveman, and buried his head deeper into the pillows. He liked the way the voice sounded but it was being incredibly annoying and unsympathetic. He wanted to sleep. Sleep - that was important stuff right there. But, unfortunately, the voice had grown a pair of arms and was now shaking him. "Come on! Dean showed up last night and he's making pancakes right now. You have got to get up, silly."
Dean - he sounded important. Sam supposed that he was supposed to be some kind of lure - a temptation great enough that Sam would not be able to resist getting up. Well, the treacherous voice was wrong. Not even pancakes and the mysteriously familiar "Dean" were a great enough temptation for this man.
"My stubborn sasquatch, get up!" the voice said again, insistently but with a bit of a laugh. The voice then apparently grew a wondrous mouth because it began to use it, starting at Sam's neck and kissing him in such a delicious way that Sam almost couldn't stand it anymore. He stirred. And then suddenly, Sam was wide awake and his mind began to come back to him. Turning over quickly, he was just in time to see his tormentor hop off the bed and run out of the room, a mischievous smile on her face. "Jess!" he yelled, laughing. "Get back here!" He needed to kiss her back - now.
Then he caught sight of the clock and yelped. Wow, he really did need to get up. So, setting records for speed, he leapt out of bed and straight into his morning routine.
20 minutes later, the errant sasquatch skidded into the kitchen and tackled the man who was just then sliding a perfect pancake onto the plate at Sam's place at the table. "DEAN!" Sam shouted joyfully as he crashed into the man and began the brotherly contest of strength. Not to be out done, the Dean somehow managed to wriggle out of Sam's arms and quickly grabbed the 6'4" man in a headlock.
"That was so easy, little brother," Dean stated, letting Sam go after a second, "I'm embarrassed for you."
Sam laughed, too happy to be embarrassed as Dean claimed he should be. "Dean, what are you doing here?" he asked. "I haven't heard from you in ages."
It was a surprise for Sam that Dean was here. Sam had practically worshipped his older brother when they'd been younger. Together, they'd gotten into all kinds of scrapes - Dean's James Dean attitude involving them in adventures with fast cars, pool tables, and loose women. But on the serious side of things, they'd also fancied themselves amateur detectives, and had traipsed around after the mysterious, collecting evidence and amazingly enough, often finding the culprit. Now, years later, those youthful passions had led Sam to make a name for himself as one of the top prosecutors in Washington D.C. Dean, also apparently still influenced by the things the brothers had done as teenagers, was a bounty hunter - still going after the bad guys, but without the structure and restrictions actual law enforcement would have put on him. Practically partners in … justice, the brothers were still very close.
But Dean was a bit of a loner and spent most of his time traveling around the country in their dad's old '67 Impala, looking for the "bad guys" Sam eventually prosecuted. So while Sam wished he could see his brother more often, in reality, Dean rarely came around.
Dean shrugged, smiling. "Got tired of skeevy motels and thought it was about time I came round and harassed you again. And you can't tell me no because, one - Jess already said I could stay and, two - I made pancakes. Which you should eat. Now."
Reminded of both his growling stomach and the fact that he needed to leave, Sam quickly sat down and dug into Dean's delicious pancakes, right after grabbing his mischievous, trouble making Jess and kissing her deeply.
Sam made it into work on time, probably only because instead of driving himself to the train station and having to wait for the next train (he'd already missed his customary one), he let Dean drive. Normally, driving anywhere around rush hour was suicidal, but Dean managed to find the out of the way back roads no one took and, by always exceeding the speed limit by at least 20 mph, cut traveling time in half. It reminded Sam of their teenage years when in their hunts for justice, they had oxymoronically boosted cars to get a lift. Dean had driven a bit like a maniac then too.
Sam spent the morning working and anticipating being able to go back home - not exactly engrossed in his work. In fact, for some reason still tired, he was on the edge of sleep when his phone received a message and buzzed, shocking him back to the land of the living.
"Drinks at 3?" the message read. "Got a new case you're going to want to here about. - Cas"
Drinks with Cas? Anything to alleviate the boredom. Sam texted back in the affirmative and then turned back to his computer, determined. Sam loved his work, but as with any job, there were slow days and this was certainly one of them. However, if he was going to leave early today to go meet Cas, he needed to apply himself and actually get something done.
Castiel Novak was one of the FBI's best agents, who had solved some of the toughest cases in FBI history. Sam, one of the best lawyers in D.C., had worked on the legal side of several of these cases and had gotten to know the lead agent very well, eventually striking up a friendship with him. They often met to discuss cases, so that was nothing out of the ordinary. But the slight sense of urgency Sam had detected in Cas' message intrigued him and he knew that Cas' case was going to be something out of the ordinary.
"Hey, Cas!" Sam said as he walked up to the FBI agent and shook his hand. "Virgin?" he asked with a smile, nodding to the drink in front of Castiel. Whenever they went out for drinks (and whenever Cas went out for drinks period, he assumed), Sam got a beer (or if it had been a hard day, some kind of shot of hard liquor) and Cas got a virgin drink. He wasn't one for drinking alcohol - Sam didn't know why. He would assume that Cas was with AA or something except for the fact that Cas didn't seem like the type to have gotten himself into that kind of trouble in the first place.
Anyway, Cas nodded the affirmative with a small smile on his face and gripped Sam's hand tightly. "It is good to see you. I already ordered your favorite." He gestured to the beer on the table.
Sam brightened up even more at the sight and sat down to enjoy it. After a brief exchange in which they enquired after their respective healths, Cas told Sam about his case.
"… and so, after they figured that out, they put me in charge of the case. They have put a great deal of faith in me. But I won't be able to catch this monster before he takes another life - I require more information and we have no description of him other than he's tall and muscular."
Sam stared at him in horror for a second. Then, shaking his head, he took a swig of his beer. The man was a veritable monster and practically unstoppable, it sounded like. "With all this kind of stuff, I don't know how you don't drink, Cas."
Castiel looked at him seriously. "It does not appear to me that intoxication would help anything as it would dull my senses and stagnate intelligent thought. However, as you seem to recommend it, if the case proves to be particularly difficult and depressing, I may give drunkenness a try."
Sam laughed out loud. "Cas, don't you ever change. Ever." Then he sobered. "But seriously, if I can help you at all, let me in on this. Please. This guy- he needs to be brought in. He's sounds about as bad as they come." His brow clouded as he thought about it and then brightened slightly as another thought occurred to him. "Maybe when you find out more about this guy, I'll send Dean out looking for him."
Cas' eyebrows snapped together. "Dean? Who's Dean?"
"Dean is my brother. He- well, he's a bounty hunter. He goes after these guys - and he's damn good at it." Cas' face showed a slight bit of disdain and disapproval at the mention of the words "bounty hunter" and Sam, noticing it, was quick to jump to his brother's defense. "No, he's not that kind. Really, he's as good as any of the agents on your team. He just doesn't do … suits. And rules."
Noting Sam's quick defense of his brother and his clear sincerity, the agent decided to keep his opinions about those who "worked for justice outside of the law" and simply nodded, relenting. "He sounds interesting."
"Interesting doesn't cover half of it. He's one of the reasons I do this job. And- actually, he's in town! Why listen to me talk- Here, let me run it by Jess, but if she's okay with it, why don't you join us for dinner this week. You can meet him!" Sam's face was animated as he told his good friend of what was, in his eyes, a heaven sent opportunity.
"Well, I-"
"Great! Let me- oh, man …" Sam grimaced at his watch and quickly stood up. "Look I've got to go, but I'll give you a call later after I talk to Jess. Okay?" He clapped his friend on the shoulder and then strode confidently out of the bar, completely oblivious of the admiring waitress who was trying to catch his eye and of the emotions he'd provoked in his friend.
Cas was left behind, apprehensive. He was good at his job. But socializing? Not so much. He had few friends and it was only they that he was comfortable with. Bounty-hunter-gunho-older brothers of friends? He was not looking forward to this meeting, especially since his initial snap judgement had been so unfavorable. Then again, Sam clearly was fond of this brother and Cas detected at least a hint of hero worship in Sam's demeanor. Perhaps this wouldn't be quite so bad after all.
That night at the dinner table, Sam shared the details (or at least the broad overview) of Cas' case with Dean and Jess. Jess was duly vocally horrified while Dean remained silent. But that wasn't surprising - Dean was always a bit closed lipped when it came to emotion. However, noticing Sam's understanding look, he nodded and said that the man sounded like he needed to be put down. Brightening up a bit, he added with a small smile, "If you ever need anyone to find him, you know who to call."
"Yeah, I told Cas." That reminded him … "Oh, Jess, you know Cas, right? Yeah, well, I was thinking he could come over for dinner the week while Dean's here. You know, they're really different, but I think they'd get along." He casted a side look over to Dean.
The older brother stood up quickly. "Okay, that's it. It was bad enough when you were throwing chicks at me, telling me I needed to find someone so I wouldn't be lonely. At least they were hot and I could have a little bit of fun. But now you're throwing dudes at me?! I'm going to bed and you two matchmakers can plot all you want to down here." With that, he stomped off dramatically, pausing only to throw his winning grin back at the couple, a smile that showed that he knew he was being ridiculous but, come on! He was joking! And he knew they could take it.
"No, Dean, that's not what-" Sam protested. "Oh, he's impossible!" he complained, while inwardly grinning. Like he would try to set Dean up with Cas. Or anybody, for that matter - Dean was a big enough "chick magnet" on his own.
Jess chuckled. "Pot calling the kettle black? A bit? You know, Winchesters have pretty much cornered the market on impossible, but I'm not sure I could honestly say that Dean's got you beat."
Not cool. Not cool. Sam had to teach Jess a lesson - something that he was a master at. So, of course, he started off with tickling and then a bit of instruction with the mouth. But Jess was so deliciously responsive, he could no longer be sure who was teaching whom …
Meanwhile, if Sam had thought of it, he wouldn't have been surprised to have found Dean upstairs, laughing. But if he had known the cause of Dean's unholy mirth, well-
Dean Winchester had a very healthy sense of irony and listening to his brother describe Dean's own escapades to him had tickled him. Then the promise of such a treat as the chance to meet the officer in charge of tracking his ass down and throw in his own promise to hunt himself and- oh, the irony of it all! If it hurt Dean to hear Sam describe him as a monster, he didn't show it. Sam didn't understand was all. Dean hunted down monsters all day. What he did- it was murder, sure. But it was something more - it was beautiful. Dean was able to see himself above the labels Sam gave him.
And so, Dean indulged himself and laughed and laughed and laughed.
A/N: Well, I hope y'all liked it! Let me know if you like the direction this is going in. Please review, review, REVIEW! They make me so happy and I'd definitely love to get some constructive criticism! Also, don't forget to follow to find out what happens next! Till next time.