A/N: Sorry it took so long. I didn't mean for it to take this long but there was Mishapocalypse and episodes and people visiting. (Publishing un-betated, re update when I get the chapter back. My beta has a pretty busy schedule so please be patient, yeah? )

Re-writes published Dec. 16th

Chapter 6: Express Lane

Dean tapped his pencil against his lip, lowering it immediately when Agent Novak's eyes settled on it. He'd never been so aware of his nervous habits until he was seated in front of the agent. It wasn't just the steady steady stare that unnerved him. The guy was an expert in behavior psychology. Dean almost felt like he was sitting at the shrinks. His other source of nerves were the two large folders settled between them. As Castiel was reading through the already completed paperwork, Dean was filling out some of the last questionnaires; including a basic mental health evaluation. The loudest noise in the office, although the sign read conference room, was the clock on the wall. The longer the silence dragged on the more Dean wanted to vault out of his chair and rip the damn batteries out of the thing.

The words on the paper were starting to look like little marching ants, so Dean tried to distract himself for a little. There wasn't much left, and it wasn't like this was going to be anything concrete. Before they would even consider his full transfer he was going to be taking a prelim-course on behavioral psychology with a type of camp on serial offenders. Some of it would be a refresher for him. but it was still required. In the middle of arguing with Sam he'd made sure to stress that even if he didn't transfer the class would be helping him out.

He still hadn't told Lisa and had no idea how to bring it up. He hated hiding shit from her. But, when it came down to it, he really didn't want to worry her or Ben unnecessarily. Although, if he was going to be honest with himself, he probably wasn't even going to tell them until it was official and it would be like pulling off a band-aid. In the long run that would probably be worse. Dean couldn't exactly help that. He could easily run into a building on fire guns blazing, but give him an emotional conversation with people he loved and he ran for the hills.

"Is there a problem Agent Winchester?"

Dean's head snapped up and he hastily erased the doodles his hand had been starting to draw on the questionnaire. "We've talked about this, Dean is fine." Castiel let the edge of his lip twitch. "And no, nothing. Just thinking I may need a break from pencil pushing."

Castiel glanced down at Dean's paper, amused, "I can see that." He leaned back in his own chair and closed the folder he had open. "Coffee?" he asked, standing up.

"God yes, black," Dean groaned. He let his legs sprawl open in the chair.

There was a click and a small whirring sound as the coffee pot sprang to life. "Have you thought about where you would like to do your classes?"

Dean blew air past pursed lips, "OKC I think." Castiel made a humming sound in acknowledgment. "I mean I know I'll have to move. But I figure it gives me time to ease the family into the change."

"Yes, your brother and your..."

"Ex."

"Yes, them and your son. How are they? I hear they're still going through personnel files at the office as well. The recovery progress has been tediously slow."

"Yup. And I don't see it ending anytime soon either. They're fine, well, as fine as they could be. It's been hard on everyone from the office, too" Dean added, wanting to detach himself from the event by mentioning others. He didn't want it turning into a personal heart-to-heart.

"True," Castiel remarked. The coffee pot let off a soft ping and he poured the two of them a cup. He sat back down across from Dean, sliding the mug across the table. He lifted one of the errant papers on the desk into his hand and glanced through it "We do have a few agents already in OKC, the classes themselves shouldn't be a problem. Some of the material you will be able to access online. There will be a few weeks where we may ask you to fly up here-" Dean's gut clenched. The flight up here had been bad enough already- "for special lectures and field practices but that should be manageable."

"Right, cool- thanks."

Silence stretched between them as they sipped on their respective coffee's. Cas seemed content to go back to the pile of papers while Dean let his eyes wander around the room. Eventually his gaze settled on the the rest of the department. Well, what he could see behind the blinds. There were a handful of cubicles littering the ground floor and people walking back and forth between them. Every so often he could swear he was being stared at, but couldn't quite pinpoint where the stares had come from. He finally caught someone's eye and instead of blushing, ashamed maybe that they'd been caught, she winked at him and wiggled her fingers. Dean's eyebrow's hitched upwards a little bit. She slid off of her desk with a quick word to her co-workers. She walked up towards the office, hair bouncing a little with her step, towards the conference room they were holed up in. "Uhm Cas?"

Castiel looked up from the papers and frowned as Pam walked up to the door and knocked. He gave a reluctant 'come in'. The door creaked open and he clutched his cup a little tighter. He didn't' appreciate the twinkle behind her eyes. "Dean Winchester, Agent Barnes. I don't think we've been introduced."

"Pleasure to meet you ma'am," Dean replied with a friendly wink.

Pam smiled and shook his hand, "Trust me, pleasures all mine." She gave him a once over.

Dean laughed and Castiel shot her a quick, dark look. "Is there something you needed Pamela?"

She shook her head and walked up to grab herself a quick cup of coffee since it was already hot and running. "Just wanted to say hello to the potential new recruit. Get a feel for him. Especially if we're going to be out in the field together. The team didn't exactly get a chance for introductions before you whisked him away."

"And?" An amused smile played at Dean's lips.

"Well at least you're handsome," she replied giving Cas a quick look, before shaking Dean's hand again, "I assume once you're relinquished from paperwork we'll be able to make proper introductions."

The door slid shut with a soft thump.

"Friendly," Dean remarked, turning back to his papers.

"That is one way to put it."

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

Late in the evening, Dean drove back to the hotel he was staying at for a few days. The paperwork hadn't taken him too long to complete but the rest of the BAU team had been just as enthusiastic as Pamela had been. They'd insisted on Chinese and a beer or two after the initial meet and greet on the ground floor. Castiel hadn't come, but Dean couldn't tell whether that was normal or not. He seemed like a friendly enough guy. At the very least, he'd been nice enough with Dean. They'd even had banter that Dean had attempted to push into flirting. Whether it was succeeding or not remained to be determined. Cas was a weird guy. Even then, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the looks the the team had given the agent in charge as they'd walked out.

Whatever, not his problem. Yet anyway.

Exhausted, he slid the plastic card through the mechanical slot and opened the door to his hotel room. He dropped his briefcase to the ground and ripped off his tie. Dean threw it towards the nearest chair and flopped down on the bed. He fumbled around for a bit, looking for the remote, and turned on the news. It played for about twenty seconds before he turned on a comedy station. He toed off his shoes, letting the drop to the floor with a clunk, and dug out his phone. Dean thumbed through a few people before settling on Sam. He sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, hitting enter.

The ring tone played for about a minute before Sam's voicemail started playing. Frowning, he redialed. After the third time he hit his brother's automated message he tossed his phone on the side desk. It clattered angrily. Dean shrugged out of the rest of his clothes. Beyond their initial argument about a week ago, when Sam had found out about Quantico, they'd had another major blowout right before Dean hopped on the plane. Which, honestly, Dean had not needed. Flying already made him want to hurtle himself off of a cliff; he didn't need his brother's shit on top of that. Since their first argument Sam had been acting a lot twitchier too. Nerves all around. He deserved another beer.

While Dean wanted to be angry with his brother and blame the behavior all on Sam's own shit, he had to concede that he probably hadn't gone about the entire thing the right way. His brother had pretty good reasons to be pissed at him. And pretty good reasons not to pick up the phone. Hell, Dean could be just as petty if not worse. And truthfully speaking, he usually was worse. Still. It would've been nice to keep tabs on his brother after everything.

"You only got yourself to blame, man," he told the ceiling, rolling over to turn off the lamp. He had an early wake up.

Dean would be doing a small fitness test under the watchful eyes of Bobby Singer and Castiel Novak with cadets wanting to join in the field. At the very least he wanted to be somewhat rested for it. It wasn't exactly going to look good if he couldn't even compete with undergrads.

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

"This has got to be hell."

Dean huffed out a deep breath. He wiped away sweat that was dripping into his eyes. His muscles burned as he took off over the next wall, hauling a dummy over it with him.

"I've died and gone to hell."

In addition to having woken up at the crack of dawn, and despite the cool spring temperatures still clinging to the north, he was burning up. Their basic test was almost on par with the field test he'd taken to join the Gang Unit in OKC. He was well ahead of the cadets, clearing obstacles in good time, but he wasn't happy about it. His lungs burned and the morning air pricked at his lungs. When Agent Singer and Cas finally swam into his vision as two small dots in the distance he braced his body and took off.

He passed them with a grim look to make his last lap around the course.

Bobby grinned a little and nudged Cas in the rib. "Sharp eye you got there. We might even be able to skip some corners on his BAU test."

Castiel huffed, not being known to skimp, but Bobby could tell he was pleased. "I admit, he has far exceeded my expectations. Although I believe he isn't having a very positive effect on the moral of the cadets."

They shared a small chuckle as they watched the first of the trainees show up in the distance, panting and pouting.

"I figure they'll live as long as Winchester there doesn't overlap 'em."

"Let us hope that does not happen," Castiel responded.

They waited in silence another 30 minutes until Dean showed back up over the horizon. They could see him clearing the wall with the "unconscious" victim, letting it gently drop to the ground, before taking back off towards the finish line. Bobby clicked the timer but put it in his pocket without looking at it. With speed like that it was a little bit of a moot point.

"I can see why Rufus gave his recommendation," Bobby said as Dean stopped. They migrated towards a small tented area. Food and water had been laid out on it for after the test. Dean's stomach gave a grateful grumble as he picked up one of the mini-sandwiches and grabbed a cold bottle of water. Someone from the staff came over and handed him a towel.

"Oh? That's good," Dean gulped down water. "He did say something about knowing you."

"Knowing is a bit of a relative term," Castiel responded with a small gleam in his eye. While Bobby and Rufus certainly respected each other as colleagues, their nature's often clashed. The last few times they had met they had parted with fighting words.

"Really now?"

Bobby gave Cas a glare, who only shrugged before Bobby walked off to call for their van.

"The sentiment remains. You did remarkably well," Castiel commented as they began to stroll towards the main road.

"Yeah well, it helps had some frustrations to work out."

Castiel made a small noise of curiosity.

"Nothing big man, just. Family shit," Dean responded. Castiel took the hint from his tone and backed off, not asking anymore.

They walked quietly for about a minute or so before Dean spoke up again, adrenaline making him feel like casual conversation. "So, what's with all the looks and glances you keep getting from the team?"

Cas frowned. He remained silent for a little before sighing, his shoulders drooping lightly. "They can't keep their noses in their own business it seems."

They'd reached the fork in the road by the time Dean felt brave enough for his second question.

He'd been itching to ask but hadn't, not once since his arrival. "Speaking of... keeping your nose to yourself. Any, uh, news on the OKC killings? On, Azazel and junk?" Dean fought to keep his tone casual as his insides churned. He'd been told before that it was classified but he figured now with some of the transfer basics started he might be able to weasel some information out of the other man.

Castiel gave him a long look before shaking his head. "Nothing I could share with you."

Dean tried not to pout. He was a federal agent damn it, and agents didn't pout at protocol. Often. His mood relented a little as Cas attempted to give him an apologetic smile. He felt the need to give the guy some slack, with how awkward the expression looked on Cas' face, he probably didn't very often actually regret not being able to share information.

"Don't worry about it, man. Just figured I'd ask."

"If I could, I would," Castiel replied quietly as Dean walked faster ahead of him.

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

Castiel chuckled a little as he and Uriel sat across each other in the small office Zachariah had cleared for them. "You have a refreshing sense of humor," he commented at the larger man.

Uriel gave a lazy smile as he straightened out papers. "My mother did always say I was gifted with a quick wit."

"Your mother was a wise woman."

They shared another quiet chuckle together before sobering. They weren't here to make jokes, although that they were able to was a relief. Castiel had been worried that he would not have been able to get along with this agent. Especially since he seemed aware of Castiel's own relation to the case at hand.

"My family's crime world as well," Uriel offered, noticing how Cas had started to draw into himself, and that just wouldn't do. Castiel needed to trust him. It was key. "Records expunged, new identity. From what I've gleamed from your file, you were luckier than I. I was an adult when I made my escape."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Castiel sat up straight in his chair, eyes filled with true sympathy. He felt for the other man. Cas wasn't sure how he would've turned out had his parents left him like that his entire childhood. He paused for a moment. "I would have thought you would be an expert on me and my family at this point."

Uriel hummed in lazy agreement. "I felt that would be rude," he let his face smooth out to as open of an expression as he could muster, "as I said. I understand. And...I was also privy to the knowledge that we would be working together, far before you were. While I will have access to your files, as you mine, I made the assumption that it would be far more civil if we simply shared the pertinent information."

"That is... very considerate of you." Castiel felt an inkling of unease crawl across his shoulders. He wasn't sure how he felt about having been scouted so far in advance but not having been privy to as much information. He'd only received Uriel's file a few minutes ago. It always made him uneasy to start out with uneven footing. Castiel didn't like being the underdog.

"We're both adults here. We will be painfully combing through both our childhoods. And our... special skills in each of our respective fields, and your exemplary military history-" Cas frowned. He'd done good work but he wasn't proud of all of it. "- make us very important assets. We will need to be fully on the same page."

Castiel couldn't argue with that, even if he still wasn't 100% sure what faction Uriel was from exactly.

There was a knock on the door. Zachariah didn't wait for a reply before sliding in. "Getting along swimmingly I see?" He kept going without a reply from either of them. "Great, wonderful. Now let's get this show on the road shall we." Zachariah handed each of them a thick folder. "You both do have day jobs," he chuckled, "but while you're there. I want you to become familiar with these files. We will see each other in a few weeks."

Castiel drummed his fingers on the table staring at the folder on his desk a few days later. He was waiting for Dean to come in to hand him the last of the paperwork before leaving back to Oklahoma City. The C.O.L.T. files sat there, slightly spread from the folder, staring back up at him. He almost felt like if he left them alone for too long they would burn a rectangular hole through his desk. There was a lot of information there, despite being able to tell it was partial. They hadn't given him original files and there were sections that had been doctored and cut out. It didn't surprise him too much with the secrecy and security level of the case, but it still didn't leave him feeling very comfortable.

There was a knock on his open door and Cas stood up. Dean smiled at him and held up a bundle of papers. "I think I got 'em all. But page five didn't print right, Charlie said you probably had another copy for me to fill out."

"Right, yes. Of course." Castiel rose from his chair, turning to go rummaging through one of the four large file cabinets that stood in his office.

Cas would never find out that this moment was how Dean found out a little more than he should have. And why his team would be called back to OKC almost 48 hours later.

As Castiel rummaged through the files Dean slid closer to the desk. He hadn't meant to look, not really. He was just a naturally curious person. He didn't even touch anything on the desk. It wasn't his fault that the files had been spread out enough to catch a few names. His heart had started hammering already as he'd read the print on the top of the files. Dean had casually glanced around him before stretching his neck and glancing at a sheet.

It was a row of names.

His heart started beating a staccato when he noticed 'Sam Winchester' printed in neat Times New Roman font on the list. Dean couldn't quite see the title but it was enough to leave him feeling queasy. The other names were obscured from view.

He tried his best to keep calm as Castiel turned back around, the missing paper in hand.

"Dean? Are you all right?"

"Yeah yeah," he lied, putting on one of his most charming smiles. "Just, gotta fly in a few hours and really not looking forward to it."

Castiel chuckled and handed him the sheet. "We're going to have to work on that. Most of the time we travel by plane."

Dean gulped as he turned and walked out the door. That was really the least of his worries.

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

For a flight that was only a few hours long, Dean had managed to get spectacularly drunk. At the very least he didn't have work the next day so he could allow himself the small luxury. The flight felt bumpier than usual. Every few seconds Dean felt a panic attack rush through him as he watch the little cartoon plane inch across the displayed map. The trip couldn't have just been complicated enough on its own. He'd just had to have gone sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.

The bile in his stomach was swirling so violently that he'd decided during the flight to leave his Impala parked at the airport for one more night. He could take a taxi home. His fingers were twitching nervously as he gripped his travel bags. The liquor he'd mainlined through threatened to come back up as the Taxi bounced and jumped along the road. Briefly, he wondered if he should've just driven himself home.

He felt his body relax as the taxi pulled up in front of their apartment complex. With barely a thank you he pulled himself out of the car and almost missed the driver's hand when he handed him the money. Dean was pretty sure that the guy gave him the finger as he drove off, but at the moment he couldn't exactly care. He needed to see Sam.

Dean marched up the stairs to their apartment and fumbled with the keys for a little. He slurred a "Sam?! I'm back!" as he walked in, leaving his belongings in the entryway.

He frowned at the silence.

With a sigh, he marched through the house, trying to find a note or something. He'd told his brother when his flight was returning and while they had fought beforehand, he'd kinda expected him to be there. "Frigging Gigantor," Dean cursed, going to make himself toast as he continued to look for a clue as to where his brother could be.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to remember that he owned a cell phone and it did in fact have his brother's number in it.

He dropped his sandwich when he heard Sam's ringtone coming from his brother's bedroom.

Dean kept the phone to his ear as he marched froward, going back into the room he'd already checked. He dug around the blankets for a little bit before fishing out his brother's cellphone. It had several days worth of missed calls.

This time the liquor did come up and re-introduce itself.

When he could stand again without retching, he cleaned himself up and started to frantically search through his brother's room. "Come on Dean, just calm down," he tried to tell himself as he rooted around Sam's room. "He's probably just out and been moping. Ignoring people. It's been a rough few months for the guy."

By the time he'd torn through most of Sam's room, he finally came across a box. For a moment he had an amusing thought about finally finding his brother's porn stash. The kid had sworn up and down he didn't have one. The small bit of elation he'd gotten faded as he opened it up. It was filled with files. At the top of which was a handmade folder titled C.O.L.T.

Dean sat down on the bed, his legs shaking a little, as he opened it. There wasn't much in there. One or two sheets filled with junk that he couldn't really understand. There was a list there, not the one he'd seen in Cas' office, but one that still had his brother's name on it. Along with it were a list of others Max Miller, Andy Ghallager... Ava Wilson… the list went on for about a page. Dean continued to dig through the folder, finding personal files on each of the names on the list.

Dean took the box with him and marched into the living room. He opened up his laptop and attempted to search for the exact files that his brother had neatly set up in his room.

They were all locked.

Internal investigation and CIA level locked.

"Sammy," Dean cursed, "what the hell did you get yourself into?" There was no way a lawyer on retainer, not even an actual lawyer yet, would even be able to get near these files. He continued cursing as he read through some of the details.

Fires.

Bile attempted to creep its way up Dean's throat, his stomach now free of any actual physical substance.

Mary Winchester.

His hands shook as he went for his phone, dialing the first person he could think of who could help.

"Agent Winchester?"

"I told you it's Dean," he snapped.

"...Dean, what is it?"

"What the hell is C.O.L.T. and why the hell is my brother in those files?"

"... I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap Cas. Where the hell is my brother?"

"Your brother? Dean, please calm down."

"I'm sure as hell not calming down. I found his phone, two days worth of missed calls, and he's got some sketchy as box hidden in his room and he's missing."

There was a pregnant pause on the other line. "Dean... call Rufus. We have to be invited in. We'll be there as soon as we can." Dean swallowed thickly. "And Dean- I am sorry."

"Can it. Just get here."

Dean hung up, hands shaking. So his gut feeling had been right. There was something shady going on. He'd expected, and hoped, that Cas would've simply brushed him off. Told him he was crazy. And drunk. But the soft electric current of fear in Castiel's voice had carried loud and clear over the line to him.

He poured himself a drink as he dialed Rufus.

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

Sam coughed and wheezed a little as he sat up. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but his body felt exhausted and drained. There was a cold breeze as he took his hands and tried to work his muscles back to life. He stumbled a little as he stood, still disoriented. A sneeze wracked through his body as dust crawled up his nose. It echoed.

"What the hell?" he mumbled to himself as he took in his surroundings. Worn, broken down boards surrounded him. Upturned chairs with spiders webs. His stomach curdled. "This is bad," he told himself as he backed up against a wall, trying to located the door. Sam grabbed a broken piece of a chair leg as he crept out of it.

There was a rustling as he inched it open, steadying his swing. He prepared to let it loose. There was a shocked yell and two hands that flew up. Sam stopped his swing just before it collided with the covered face. Confused, he lowered his weapon for a little bit. The other boy standing in front of him peeked through his fingers. They both lowered their arms.

"Andy?!"

"Sam?!"

A/N: So my mouse is crapping out. Like hardware on the fritz I can't scroll over anything without 15 different things popping up. It's agitating as fuck. My keyboards breaking down too. I need a new laptop but laptop's are expensive. But here you go! How's that for suspense! It's shorter than all the other chapters but I dunno, it just kinda stopped there.