Sorry it's a day late, but it's longer! And I must apologize for the cliffhangers... but they keep you reading, and hopefully reviewing, so... I'm not really all that sorry ;) Enjoy!

Chapter 8

"I've never seen anything like this," Bobby muttered, shaking his head. "Can't tell what they're after, nothin' in common with the victims."

"Just a good old fashioned killing spree," Dean chimed in, eliciting a trademark eye roll from Sam.

The three hunters, along with Castiel and Gabriel, were gathered in Bobby's living room studying a giant map. Colored pushpins were scattered across the northeast United States. Pictures and newspaper clippings of the murders were hung up on the wall beside the map, along with eyewitness descriptions of the suspects – who all "appeared to have black eyes". The crime scenes were gruesome, the police had no leads, and all the signs pointed to demons.

"But what do they want?" Sam mused.

"My guess is, to kill people."

The younger Winchester smacked his brother hard on the back of his head. "Stop being a smart ass and help."

"When have demons needed an excuse to murder innocent people, huh, Sam?" Dean banged his fist down on the table in frustration. "I don't give a crap what they want, they're hurting people and it's our job to stop 'em, so what are we waiting for?"

He was growing impatient. Ever since Bobby and the angels had filled him in on the details they'd acquired that afternoon, he had been ready to take off in the Impala and get down to business. But the other members of the crew – mostly Sam – insisted on laying everything out and 'strategizing'. He'd been a sitting duck the whole time they were figuring out all that angelic-chick-flick nonsense, and now when they actually had a case to work on, they were just standing here staring at colored pins and paper; it was infuriating.

"So what's your plan, Dean-o? Go in guns blazing and hope you don't get us all killed?" Gabriel drawled from behind the hunters, where he was leaning casually against the wall. "And you guys are supposed to be the best of the best."

Dean turned on his heel and clenched his fists, eyes narrowed and ready to throw a couple well-deserved punches, but Sam grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Gabe's right, Dean. These guys are playing at something, we just gotta figure out what it is. And we can't jump in without some kind of plan, they'll have us for breakfast."

Castiel finally spoke up from the back of the room where he had been standing still as a statue, mulling over the case in his head, listening to the others' banter but not participating. "They are organized. Demons prefer to work alone and do not usually come together unless they're working for someone," he pointed out.

Dean avoided Sam's blatant 'I-told-you-so' look and focused back on the map. "So we don't kill them, we trap 'em and make 'em talk. Find out who the ringleader is, then send the son-of-a-bitch back where he came from."

"Wow, brilliant plan, tell me more," Gabriel jeered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sam shot him a warning look before turning back to his fuming brother. "We gotta find them first, dude. They're all over the place."

"Wait, look here." Bobby called their attention back to the map, where he was connecting the most recently placed pushpins, drawing a gray line across the map with a pencil. "I'm going through the last few of 'em in order. Looks like a straight shot, kinda. Hittin' the big cities on the coast. We could figure out where they're headed."

The younger Winchester frowned. "You think it's that easy? They're not covering their tracks all that well."

"Might as well give it a shot," Bobby shrugged.

"I'm in," Gabriel clapped his hands.

Castiel nodded solemnly. "We will help you."

Before the words had even left the angel's mouth, Dean was up and out the door, giving the trunk of his baby a once-over to make sure they were prepared before sliding in the driver's side and revving up the engine, waiting impatiently for everyone else to get a move on.

"Does he even know where we're going?" Sam asked, smirking a little at his brother's eagerness.

"Boston, New York, Philadelphia..." Bobby ticked off the cities that had been most recently hit. "Whad'ya think, D.C.?"

"Or Baltimore," Sam suggested. "We can hit it on the way there, if we go east then head down south. That would be the fastest route anyway, I think."

An impatient horn sounded from outside. "Will you hurry up? We're wasting daylight," they heard Dean shout. Bobby huffed and grabbed his jacket and his best revolver, making his way out to satisfy the anxious older Winchester.

Sam turned to the two angels. "You gonna ride with us, or mojo out there?"

"I will meet you there," Castiel replied before vanishing.

And then there were two.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "You wanna come with me? Get there a little early, have some time to ourselves, have a little fun?" He took a couple steps forward until he was looking up at Sam, pressing against him suggestively.

The hunter chuckled, but made no motion to move away. "We still gotta figure out the game plan."

"Oh, who needs a game plan?"

"We'll have time after," Sam assured him, pressing a quick, light kiss to his lips.

"Be careful out there." Gabriel's tone changed from teasing to serious so quickly it took a second for the words to sink in.

"Of course I will."

Big, strong arms wrapped around the archangel and he reveled in the warmth and comfort of his hunter's embrace for the few seconds they had until Sam had to hurry out and join his increasingly impatient brother in the car. Gabriel exhaled heavily. Well, this was it.

Game on.

The Impala glided up the street of their nation's capital and parked smoothly against the curb, where a tall, dark-haired man in a trench coat stood in wait. The hunters got out of the car and joined him on the sidewalk in front of a large, boring looking office building.

"They are in the city," Castiel stated in his usual low, gravelly voice.

"How do you know? You got a sixth sense for it or something?" Bobby asked dubiously.

Gabriel strode up behind them and leaned against the hood of the car, jumping into the conversation with his usual syrupy, sarcastic voice. "No, but he has eyes."

The hunters turned around and were met with the sight of a crowd gathering around a television set in the front window of a shop across the street. Local news was broadcasting a report of an armed robbery and mass homicide just outside of town, warning the inhabitants to be on the lookout for the suspects, who had all escaped before police arrived at the scene. It seemed like there were at least six of them, possibly more.

"Lookit you boys and your pro map skills. Nailed it," Gabriel sang.

"Great," Dean muttered under his breath, ignoring the archangel. "The Barrow Gang strikes again. You think they'd have high-tailed it outta here by now?"

"No, they can't have gotten far," Sam decided. "They were just outside town an hour ago, we'll find them."

The older Winchester turned to his angel. "Cas, you think you can hone in on your angel radar? Use a little mojo, get us a location?"

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow in amusement and Castiel narrowed his eyes – no one could even try to get away with that kind of request except Dean – but because it was Dean, he nodded curtly and replied, "I will try." After standing with his eyes closed for all of thirty seconds, he announced matter-of-factly, "Third floor of a hotel on the corner of 15th and M Street."

Dean beamed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Man, you're freakin' awesome. C'mon Sammy, let's go gank some Satan spawn."

"Slow down there, boy." Bobby grabbed his arm and whirled him around. "You ain't goin' without me, and I ain't about to attack a group of demons on their homefront."

"We could draw them out –" Sam started, but Dean interrupted him sharply.

"With what? You said yourself we haven't got any dirt on what they want."

"– or do a stake out. Wait 'til they leave and follow them," he finished, shooting a bitch-face at his brother, who despite the icy glare, came back with an another retort.

"They're not normal people, Sam. They don't have to go out for grub or booze. They could smoke their way outta there if they figured out we were watching and just leave the meat-suits behind, and then there'd be no way in hell to find them."

"Well what do you suggest, Dean?" Sam demanded angrily. "I don't hear you coming up with anything better."

"I'm up for a stakeout," Bobby piped up, earning a look of disbelief from the older Winchester. "They're on the move and they're gonna get rollin' at some point. Might as well just wait it out."

"Whatever," Dean grumbled, going back around the Impala – carefully avoiding Gabriel's casually outstretched foot that was undoubtedly meant to trip him up – and climbing in. He called through the open window, "We're getting food first though. I'm starving."

"Gabriel and I will be leaving, then," Castiel informed them.

Dean looked almost hurt. "What? Why wouldn't you come with us?"

"We'd be a little conspicuous staking out a group of demons." Gabriel stood and pointed to himself. "Hello – archangel? Not so easy to miss."

"Where are you gonna go?" Sam asked. Nobody missed the hints of concern and disappointment in his voice, but nobody decided to comment on it, either.

"Under the radar, but we'll stay close so we'll know if you need backup," the archangel assured him. He wanted to say more, but with both of their brothers and Bobby all within earshot, he decided against it. What he couldn't say out loud, he tried his best to convey through his eyes when he locked onto those hazel orbs – I'll stay close to protect you, watch over you, keep you safe.

Sam gave a small nod of understanding and closed the door to the passenger side of the Impala behind him while Bobby slipped into the backseat. When he turned back, both angels had already disappeared.

"How 'bout steaks, then stakeout," Dean suggested as he turned up the radio and hit the gas. The other two hunters remained quiet; it wasn't as much of a suggestion as it was telling them where he was going.

They picked up dinner at some greasy fast food chain – unfortunately they didn't serve steaks to-go, but they had burgers, which was good enough for Dean – and headed over to the hotel Castiel had pointed them to, settling in across the street to keep a good eye on the door.

"You get food on my baby, you Cinderella that shit 'til it sparkles, you got it?" Dean warned his passengers before they chowed down, directing it more at his brother than Bobby.

"Whatever you say, Dean," Sam sighed and rolled his eyes – though he was a little more careful than usual while picking through his Caesar salad.

"I don't get why you eat that crap," Dean went on through a mouthful of meat and cheese. "Looks like it's for rabbits."

"Would you just shut up and watch the door?" Sam snapped, not even bothering to try and control his irritation.

"How long you 'spect we're gonna be out here, Bobby?"

The older hunter paused in chewing his burger and furrowed his brow. "Dunno. If we're lucky they'll go out tonight for fresh pickin', but I'm guessin' they're gonna be holed up in there 'til at least tomorrow."

Dean resigned himself to grumbling unintelligible complaints under his breath while he finished his meal and then leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. "Wake me up if something happens. I'm takin' a rest break."

"Rest break? We haven't even done anything," Sam asked incredulously.

"Yeah, well, I'm exhausted."

"Dude, stay awake." A hard smack on Dean's shoulder made him jump and glare at his brother. "If you get ripped to pieces by demons, Cas'll never forgive me."

"What's Cas gotta do with it?" Dean demanded, suddenly defensive.

Bobby muttered, "Here we go," and dropped his head back on the headrest, waiting for the inevitable argument to begin. He had hoped to avoid talking about the boys' new beaus, knowing that nothing good could come of it when Dean found out Sam had his hooks in an archangel that he openly disliked. But he wasn't spared their incessant bickering, and apparently now he wouldn't be spared this, either. He should've brought earplugs.

"Oh, c'mon Dean, don't play dumb. You're like, Cas's property now. If anything happened to you he'd smite me into oblivion."

"I am nobody's property, what the hell would you say that for? Cas and I are just friends." Dean stumbled over the last word and he hoped no one else would notice – no such luck.

"Just friends my ass," Sam smirked knowingly. "Even you aren't stupid enough to believe that."

"What are you trying to say, Sam, huh?"

"That you and Cas are... you're..."

"What? Goddammit Sam, just say it," Dean shouted.

"Fucking! You guys are fucking!"

"Oh, for the love of God," Bobby groaned.

"We're not... I'm not..." Dean spluttered, completely shocked at Sam's words. It wasn't just that Sam knew, either; sure, they had sex, but what he and Cas had was not just 'fucking'. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he knew it was more than that. It was kind of insulting, to hear his brother say that. He wasn't going to outright deny it, but he wasn't about to defend it, either, because he wasn't about to come off sounding like a total girl. So he dodged. "It's none of your damn business! Like you're one to talk, letting Gabriel climb all over you like some kind of holy slut."

"Real classy, Dean. He had his arm around me. One arm. What do you care?"

"Are you blind? He's trying to get into your pants! We all know he's a little flamboyant around the edges, and now he's got a hard-on for you and he's gonna use you, Sam. I'm not about to let that happen!"

"Use me?" Sam was offended for Gabriel. "He's not gonna use me, you overprotective dick! He's better than that! And it's mutual, okay? Jesus, Dean."

"He's better than that? It's mutual? Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"Give your macho man facade a break for two seconds, okay? I'm serious. You don't want me saying anything about you and Cas, fine, but then don't ask about me and Gabe when you obviously don't wanna know."

"Cas has nothing to do with this! Sam, I'm trying to make you understand, that guy has made us miserable. Remember when he stuck you in Tuesday and had me killed some hundred times? You forgotten that already, huh? Just because he batted his eyelashes and cuddled up nice and close?"

"It's not like that! He helped us, he helped you. He got Cas back for you. Obviously he's not out to get you."

"Coulda fooled me."

"You're such a hypocrite." Sam turned to look out the window and crossed his arms – typical little brother pouting stance.

"Don't go there, Sam," Dean warned him.

"You're allowed to have an angel fuck-buddy, and I'm not."

"I said don't go there!" the older Winchester roared, clenching his fists and using every bit of self restraint he had to stop from pounding his brother into the seat of his beloved car. "It's not like that, okay? Cas isn't a goddamn fuck-buddy, so stop fucking saying that! Cas is different. He's my best friend and he's not going anywhere, not without me. I don't know what the hell's going on with us, if there even is anything, and if there was it wouldn't be any of your damn business. But you gotta stop acting like Cas and Gabriel are the same. Gabriel is a cocky son-of-a-bitch who likes to mess with our heads. But Cas always has our backs. He's like family. And I lo..."

Dean realized too late that what he was saying was way, way, way out of his league. He had gotten carried away ranting to Sam and had let his guard down. He hadn't even managed to say it to himself without cringing; there was no way in hell he was about to just let the words roll off his tongue in front of his brother and Bobby.

Speaking of, both of whom were completely frozen and silent, staring wide-eyed and shell-shocked at the panting, red-faced Dean.

"You what?" Sam finally breathed.

"Shut up," was the only thing Dean could muster. His head was spinning, his heart was racing, he felt like he had just run a marathon and was drowning in air that was so filled with tension, it seemed thicker than water. After a moment of silence only broken by his jagged breathing, he added, "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam's knee-jerk response was immediate, and quickly eased the tension that, at that point, was threatening to drown all three of them. They took a collective deep breath and tried to shake off what had just happened, pushing it to the back of their minds and forcing a much more important, forgotten responsibility to the forefront.

Bobby, who had been sitting in awed silence throughout the entire argument, suddenly snapped to attention. "Have either of you idjits been watching the door?"

"Uh..." Both Winchesters looked at each other a little guiltily – Bobby got his answer.

"Dammit," he grunted, getting out of the car and going around to the trunk for some holy water, spray paint for sigils, and the demon knife, which he handed off to Sam. "I'm gonna go see if they're still in there. If I'm not back in fifteen, you get your asses in there. Don't you be arguing in here when you're supposed to have my back. Shut your yappers and get the job done, you hear?"

"Aye aye captain," Dean mumbled, tucking a vial of holy water into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Bobby marched off into the hotel, leaving the boys in an awkward silence. He sighed and shook his head.

At least he was spared that.

The Impala was filled with a stuffy quietness. Although the hunters had taken shifts throughout the night to watch the door, they were all exhausted, longing for the comfort of their beds back at Bobby's house – which was saying a lot for Sam, because that panic room cot was just shy of being a complete rock. Early morning sunlight filtered through the windshield, lighting up the myriad of dust particles swirling around in the air and casting a thin streak of light over Dean's tired face, eliciting a groan as he threw an arm over his eyes.

"Are you sure they're still in there, Bobby?"

"You doubtin' me, boy?"

"You know Sam, this stakeout was an awful idea."

"It might still work, Dean, just be patient."

"Patient, shmatient."

"Stop acting like a two year old."

"Shut up, Sammy."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop telling me what to do."

It had been like this for hours. Bobby was really wishing he had brought those earplugs right about now. But he stayed silent, just thankful that the argument from the previous evening hadn't been repeated. He knew they'd have to hash it out again; these boys were never ones to just let things like that go, especially since the angels would be returning in the near future, but he kept his fingers crossed that they'd at least wait until he was out of earshot this time.

"Remind me why we don't just go in and get this over with already."

"Dean." Sam's voice was a warning – if Dean kept pestering him, things would start getting ugly.

"Alright, alright. Can't we go get food? I'm dying here."

"Hey, wait a second," Sam said abruptly, leaning forward and peering out the window. "I think that's them – is that them?"

"That's them," Bobby confirmed gruffly, sitting up straight to follow his gaze and narrowing his eyes at the group emerging from the front doors of the hotel. "Looks like only six. Weird, seein' 'em all walking down the street like a bunch of do-gooders."

"Let's go." Dean opened his door and made a move to get out, but Sam pulled him back by the collar of his jacket.

"We can't just engage them in the middle of the street, Dean," he pointed out. "We can follow them in the car until they go somewhere where we won't draw attention."

"Right," Dean conceded reluctantly, "let's just watch 'em walk away. Whatever you say, Sammy." Despite his irritated grumbling, he put the car in gear and inched forward, weaving expertly into the traffic and staying inconspicuously close to the pack of demons walking nonchalantly down the street.

"This place is packed with people," Dean noted while they were stopped at a light. "Where are they gonna go that we won't be noticed?"

"They're getting into a car," Sam remarked, pointing up ahead of where, sure enough, the six demons were filing into a dark blue van. "We need to follow them."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Dean shot a look at his brother, who returned it in full.

Bobby smacked them on the backs of their heads, eliciting surprised yelps from both of them. "You idjits better quit your catfightin' and start focusin' on the hunt, or you're gonna get us all killed."

After that, save for a couple snide remarks tossed back and forth, the conversation became much more professional, to Bobby's relief. They trailed the van through the city and finally rumbled out onto the interstate, where they rode along for a good few miles until following it off an exit and through a few more winding roads to a big brick building, surrounded by overgrown fields. A few cars were parked in the lot out front, but by the looks of them, they hadn't been used in a long time – most likely broken down and abandoned.

"What the hell are demons doing out here?" Dean wondered aloud, pulling up behind a clump of bushes and trees about a hundred yards from the building, where the Impala would be least noticeable.

"Looks like an old factory that's not being used anymore or something," Sam observed. "No idea what they're doing with it, but at least we won't be interrupted. You guys ready?"

"You kidding me? I was born ready," was Dean's immediate response.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Bobby grumbled at the same time.

The older hunter positioned himself by the front door where the demons had gone in, laying in wait in case they decided to make a run for it. Loaded up with holy water and securing the demon knife safely into his jacket, Sam led Dean around the backside of the building, where there was another entrance. There was no sign of anyone around, so they slipped inside and began making their way through the dimly lit, dusty hallway leading to the center of the building. After a few minutes, they could hear voices drifting through the musty air, catching part of a conversation.

"...told you it would work," a female voice gloated.

"I still don't think this was a good idea," said a deeper, male voice with a thick European accent.

"It'll be fine," the female voice soothed him. "We have one up on them."

"Exactly. It's the 'one up' there that I'm worried about."

Dean turned to Sam and met with an expression just as confused-looking as his own. They paused and stayed unmoving against the wall of the hallway, listening for something that made sense, or meant that the demons had their guard down. When he realized the voices had gone silent, Dean inched forward and peered around the corner into the main room.

Huge pieces of machinery were scattered around the whole place – conveyor belts, cranes, a couple vats filled with some kind of unnaturally colored liquid, and a big furnace on the far side. Things that could be used against them, but also things they could use to their advantage, so not good, but not all bad either. Whoever had been talking a few minutes ago must have left, because the room appeared to be empty.

Dean gave Sam the go ahead and they edged into the room, hands hovering over the revolvers tucked into their belts. They knew they were useless against demons, but it was instinct. They circled around the outskirts of the room, keeping their backs to the walls and their eyes peeled for any signs of movement.

The sound of footsteps approaching raised the hairs on the back of Dean's neck, and he almost growled when the first demon appeared in the doorway and smiled maliciously. Long dark hair cascaded down her thin leather-covered shoulders, framing her long, heavily made-up face. Sleek black boots peeked out from underneath low-hanging jeans that swished when she moved.

"Howdy, boys. What took you so long?" she drawled in a smooth, deliciously low voice that sent chills down Dean's spine. It was the same one they had heard before.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he spat through gritted teeth, willing to play her game for a little bit. "City traffic and all."

"Oh, you kept up just fine," she smirked, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and taking a few more steps into the room. "We could see you trailing us the whole way. You're not as slick as you think, you know."

"Tell us what you're after," Sam demanded, shifting his arm so that he could make a quick grab for the knife if he needed to.

"Oh, honey, you still haven't gotten it, have you?" She sighed, cherry red lips pursed in a small frown, and began to walk in a wide circle around the hunters. "We're not after anything. You see, us demons don't need to be after anything to kill. Sometimes, all we want... is just a little blood."

A loud crash rang out and Dean whipped his head around to see Sam sprawled up against the wall, cringing in pain as he was held up by a second demon, who had sneaked up behind them while they were distracted.

"Sam!" he cried out.

"Aw, you poor thing," the female demon purred. "Looks like he's a little busy. You're all on your own, sweet cheeks."

"I don't think so," he snarled, clutching the vial of holy water in his jacket pocket, hoping desperately that Bobby heard the commotion and was on his way to save the day.

"Oh, but I do," the demon grinned, and beckoned a finger to someone around the corner that Dean couldn't see.

A struggling and cursing Bobby was carried in by two other demons; he had obviously put up a fight, if the gashes on his legs and forehead were anything to go by, but they had overpowered him. Dean immediately shook his head at the apologetic look on the older hunter's face; it wasn't his fault that they had come into this unprepared and without a plan. Bobby was captive, as was Sam, who had the demon knife, and the only thing Dean had to defend himself and save his family was a couple ounces of holy water.

"You know, I've heard about you boys," the demon continued, looking disappointedly at Dean. "You're the best of the best, nothing can beat the Winchesters, blah, blah, blah. Seems to me that you can't quite live up to all the hype, now, can you?" With a tsk, she added, "Well, maybe I'll go down in history now, too. Because I'm going to be the one who rips you to pieces, and your darling little brother with you."

Dean lunged for her, not quite sure how he was going to tear her throat out though he was determined to do it, and he would have, too – if he hadn't been held back by a pair of viciously strong arms that trapped him in a vice-like grip and knocked something rock hard against his head, sending him plunging into unconsciousness.