A/N: My beta antinickname is super busy with her school and finally getting done with everything. But, it's been forever since I updated, so I'm tossing it out there.
Re-writes published Dec 16th
Chapter 8: Storm Clouds
Dean woke up sore. His muscles felt tight and his movements were clunky. There was a sour taste on his tongue and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. For a moment, he tried going back to bed; he was way too hungover for this shit. His feeble attempts at sleep were thwarted by a loud, obnoxious ringing. The lights felt too bright as he forced his eyes open. He shut them immediately. Blindly, he groped around for his phone. A few minutes had passed and the phone finally fell silent, only to start ringing again. Dean cursed and forced himself to sit up fully. He swung his legs off the bed, marched over to where his jacket was and dug in the pocket. 'Lisa' flashed on the screen and he swallowed. Guilt crept trough him as he sat back down on the bed, and flipped open the phone.
"Hey Lis."
"Where the hell are you?"
"I should've called you."
"Yeah you should have. What the hell, Dean? I don't hear a word from you, you tell me Sam is missing and then I show up at your apartment and there are cops everywhere. I've been calling you for hours."
"I know, I fucked up. Things just moved really fast. I won't do it again."
"No. You won't. They wouldn't even tell me anything. Just be glad I didn't bring Ben with me. Would've scared the hell out of him."
Dean rubbed a tired hand over his face. He couldn't figure out anything to say, especially when Lisa was throwing curse words around. She generally had more eloquent ways to put things.
"I know things have been busy, but really. Ever since the bombing-"
"Lisa," he warned. This wasn't something he wanted to talk about.
"No, you've been distant ever since then. We barely ever see you anymore. And then this happens."
"I'm sorry."
There was a sigh on the other end of the line.
"Can we please talk about this later? I'm kinda in the middle of something."
"Of course you are. You always are."
The line went dead before Dean could say goodbye. He took in a deep breath and attempted to stretch. He let himself drop onto the bed, body bouncing a little from the force. Yeah, he knew he'd fucked up, but it wasn't exactly any top priority of his at the moment. He'd work out the kinks in his non-relationship with Lisa after he'd gotten Sam back home safe.
The bathroom light stung his eyes when he'd finally gathered enough energy to get up. He brushed his teeth and made a face at his rumpled clothing. It would have to do.
His stomach felt queasy as he stepped into the elevator, banging his head into the wall gently. The doors pinged open and he marched towards the lobby. To his surprise, Castiel was sitting on one of the couches. Before Dean could get a question out, the agent looked up and gave him an amused quirk of the lips.
"Good morning, Agent Winchester," Castiel said, folding the newspaper he was holding, and tucking it away.
"Dean," he grumbled back. "Sorry about... you know."
Cas shook his head. "Nonsense." He stood up and walked over to the small breakfast table set up in the lobby. He filled acup of coffee for Dean, which Dean accepted gratefully. One short sip later, Dean was grimacing and holding it out in front of him skeptically.
"It's hotel coffee, I'm not sure what you were expecting."
"I guess I've had worse," Dean conceded and took another tentative sip. "So, what happens now?"
"There are no new updates, but I will be taking you back to the station with me."
"I can't believe they're letting me anywhere near this case."
Dean almost visibly reared back as the sunlight struck his eyes. Castiel chuckled as he pulled out his own sunglasses.
"You will not be there to consult. We have some of our own questions for you."
"Now that I'm sober enough to answer them, I guess."
Castiel chose not to reply and led them to their rental van. The drive passed in some silence before Dean spoke up.
"You sound like you know a lot about this C.O.L.T. business."
Cas gripped the wheel tightly. "I know more than most."
"Did you know Sam was on a list? Before all of this?"
Silence.
"Did you?" Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at the agent.
"Yes," Castiel answered, tone short and clipped.
"What the hell, Cas?"
"Dean, please. I can't discuss this with you."
"Bullshit, you're the FBI, you can do just about whatever the hell you want. Don't pull that on me. We both know better."
"You're being extremely obtuse."
"My brother's been kidnapped or worse by terrorist. Yeah, my damn bad for being obtuse. But fine, whatever."
Dean didn't speak another word until they'd driven into the parking lot. Even then, the few words he spoke were to another agent he knew. Ignoring Castiel seemed like the most mature thing to do. They went up to the third floor together and Dean barreled past the lobby and into Rufus' office.
"Trouble in paradise?" Pamela teased, walking up and nudging Cas with her elbow.
"Pamela, please."
"Oh come on, you took him to the hotel and we didn't see you for the rest of the night. So tell me, how was it?"
Castiel rolled his eyes and pushed past her, instead preferring to check on Charlie's progress. He'd hoped there was good news for him. What he hadn't expected was that there was a person he didn't recognize sitting next to her.
"Mornin' boss," Charlie said, cheerfully. That was a good sign. She turned her chair around and pointed to the newcomer. "This is Ash. I needed a little extra help getting through all of Sam's electronic junk, so he's on loan. Seriously, how many gadgets and things did Sam Winchester need? He's almost giving me the run for my money."
"Pleasure to meet you, boss-man," Ash said, extending his hand and brushing the other through his mullet.
Castiel found himself staring at him for a few seconds too long. He coughed and cleared his throat, trying to cover for the slight. He shook the man's hand. "And? What have you found?"
"Well, not much, but there was this number, see here-" the screen read unknown "- we're running it through a program right now. He's been calling it non-stop and back and forth for a while now. I think the first recorded history of him getting in contact with this person was a few days after the bombing."
"Good. Agent Singer and Agent Harvelle?"
"Bobby and Ellen are already at Dean's. They left about an hour or two ago. They're waiting for you guys there."
Before they could continue their conversation, Rufus' door was thrown open. "This is bullshit!" Dean cursed, marching over to his desk. The people in his way cleared a path for him.
"It's classified, Dean. You're way too emotionally attached to his case to work it. You know protocol better than anyone. Even if, lord knows, you break it often enough," Rufus called out, walking after him. He gave onlookers a passing glare so that they would return to work.
Dean looked at Cas and frowned, opening his mouth ready to chew him out, too, when the computer pinged.
"We've got the number, now just to trace... let's keep our fingers crossed that whoever it belongs to was dumb enough to use their own name and register it," Charlie mumbled as she punched in a few commands. The computer whirred silently until a name and a picture popped up on the screen.
"Meg Masters?" she read out loud.
"Who the hell is that?" Dean asked, scooting in closer. He pushed himself towards the screen, ignoring the huff from Rufus. "I've never seen her before in my life. Who is she?" He turned to Castiel and felt his insides turn a little clammy. Cas looked pale.
"This is an unfortunate development," he managed to say. The room looked at him curiously. "Meg Masters, she has been on a wanted list or two in her lifetime. She also holds a high rank in Lucifer's circles. And it is not stupidity that gives us her name. It is a taunt," Dean's swallow was audible. "I'm afraid this complicates things. Dean, I believe it would be best if you went back to the hotel now."
"The hell I am," Dean snapped. "You tell me my brother's been making friendly with queen bitch of evil and you just want me to sit tight?"
"You don't really have a choice, Dean," Rufus sighed. He walked over and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "I get that you're frustrated. I would be, too. And we're all worried for Sam. I'll let you know if anything changes and I'll look into getting you some clearance."
The fan rattled above their heads as Dean collected himself. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. His shoulders slipped a little downwards, defeated. "Fine, fine, whatever." Without turning to look at anyone in the room, he left, practically storming out. He waved off an offer for a ride and smiled thinly at the other agents he passed. He made it to his own unit car and pulled out his cellphone. Determination sparked in his eyes, now that he was alone. Rufus really didn't know him if he thought that Dean was going to sit idly by. He dialed a number.
"Dean! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Bella. I need something from you."
… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .
Castiel rubbed his fingers against his temples.
"So, Meg Masters? How bad is this?" Pamela gripped the steering wheel tightly. It wasn't often that Castiel let his body language betray nerves.
"Lucifer calls them all his children; but Meg Masters, she is special. She is old, well, not in age. She was one of the first. She answers directly to Azazel, and studied under Alistair."
"Those names don't really mean anything to me. I mean we all know Azazel 'cause he's got a bit of a temper issue with fire but..."
"And I had been hoping they never would mean much. If Meg is prowling about, it can mean nothing good for Sam. Or any of us. We can only pray that this isn't the start of something bigger. Although blowing up a federal building certainly counts as an indicator. I had been clinging to..." Castiel fell silent.
"Care to elaborate?" They turned a sharp corner, Dean and Sam's apartment complex coming into view.
"Later, when we all have a chance to sit down."
Pamela gave him a look but the let subject drop. They flashed their badges at the security guards and parked.
Meg Masters. Castiel had never encountered her in person, and most who did never lived to tell the tale. Her story was told from fragments of video footage and low ranking criminals they'd had in custody. Those who let information slip tended to have a short life span, as well, even in the protected walls of a cell. When Lucifer had been caught, she, along with many of the other top dogs, had disappeared. A few power plays by Azazel had peppered the weeks after Lucifer's arrest but that had been it. It made him ill to think of what this could all be a precursor to.
"About time you got here," Bobby greeted them, when they'd finally made it up the steps.
"Rough morning," Pamela said with a smirk, pointing at Castiel.
He scowled at her and moved into the apartment. The place looked exactly as it had last night, and now there was a chance to explore it. The hardest part was discerning what had been changes Dean had made since Sam's disappearance, and what was inherently Sam. "Have we found any papers, or anything else? Dean said that he'd found the C.O.L.T. file in his brother's room. Maybe the original sweep missed something."
Their small group dispersed to dig through Sam's room. In the mean time, Castiel let himself wander. He found himself in front of a wall with the only few pictures in the place. One he recognized as their mother. She looked beautiful in this picture, alive and warm. It felt nice to replace the memory of the charred corpse he'd seen in the files; not even her state ID photo had done her justice. His arm twitched to reach out and touch the image. The picture next to it was of their father, the decorated marine and officer.
"He was a good man."
Cas turned around to see Bobby staring contemplatively at the images. "I wasn't aware how closely associated to the Winchesters you were."
Bobby huffed and shook his head, "Not really... close. But I can tell you there ain't a guy in the FBI that doesn't know the name John Winchester. Not so much anything on the boys or Mary, but John Winchester made a record for himself in the force. I think Rufus may have worked with him once overseas. You might just be the only person I know to whom John Winchester doesn't mean anything."
"I wouldn't say that," Castiel responded looking at the other pictures.
"The C.O.L.T. files don't count."
"I suppose you would be right," Castiel responded, a complacent smile on his face.
They spent another hour going through the apartment before his phone rang.
"Agent Novak here."
"Castiel."
"Agent Uriel, I'm surprised you've called," Castiel responded, waving at the rest of his team and stepping out into the hallway. He found himself a secluded area.
"You haven't checked in yet, we were getting worried."
"We've only just started."
"I'm sure. But that's not why I called. CIA knows you can do your job. We want to talk about Dean Winchester."
"Dean?" Castiel frowned. "What's he done? I know he's been trying to get onto the case but-"
"Let him."
"What?" His voice almost carried through the entire hall.
"Let him join the case. The CIA wants him as an active participant in the case with access to the information that you do."
"It's not my place to question orders-"
"No it's not."
"But is that wise? Dean has a temper and when he finds out-"
"You will handle it."
Castiel wanted to sigh and wrangle some sense into whomever this order was coming from. It was reckless and careless. What those files held in them were horrors after horrors. And if Dean were to find out what his family had done to get on Lucifer's radar... Castiel didn't seriously think Dean was the type to abandon his duties as an officer, but it wouldn't surprise him if he went rogue.
"Castiel?"
"I will do what I must. I'll be in touch."
Wanting nothing more than to go back to a few months ago, when things were simpler, he walked back into the apartment. He excused himself to his team and told them to keep going without him. Only Bobby gave him a skeptical look, to which Castiel shook his head. Agent Singer let it go but the message behind his eyes meant they would talk about it later, which was just fine by him; he'd need someone to consult with. First thing's first: he had to go fetch Dean and let him know of the new changes. Maybe privately ease him through some of the papers and gauge his reaction as they went. Just because he had been instructed to allow him access to the information didn't mean he had to dump it on him all in one go. Maybe, just maybe, if he could play damage control right things would work out.
Of course, all of these good intentions were shot straight out of the window when, just as he was arriving at the hotel, he saw Dean sprinting towards the hotel parking lot. Frowning, he got out of his own car and took off after him. A little bit of panic seared through his chest as he noticed that Dean was heading for his squad car. He barely made it to the door as Dean slid in.
"What the hell, Cas!" Dean barked, slamming his head on the window in surprise. His chest heaved and he had his gun half drawn out of its holster. "You don't just fucking slide into a cop car like that without some notice!"
Cas frowned and clipped his seat belt in, "I did try and call your name. You were going too fast. More than anything, what are you doing that you didn't notice someone running after you? You're a better agent than that."
"Get out of the car, Cas."
"Dean." His name came out like a warning.
"I'm serious, Cas, get the fuck out of my car."
"Not until you tell me what you're doing. Because it seems to me like you are about to do something very stupid."
"Shows how much you know," Dean spat back, finally relaxing a little. His fingers were still drumming on the wheel nervously.
"Would you calm down and talk to me if I told you that you've been given clearance on the case?"
"Huh?"
Castiel sighed and wished for a vacation. He leaned against his own door and stared at Dean. At the very least he wasn't reaching for the key and his shoulders had dropped. They weren't going to be heading anywhere in a hurry.
"Yes, the CIA has given you clearance to be an active agent on this case."
"Oh," Dean breathed, "good then. It would've actually really sucked to have broken protocol."
"Excuse me?" He sat up straighter in the seat, concerned.
"You're either coming or not, but I'm going to give someone a little visit."
"Of course I'm coming. Just because you've had clearance doesn't mean you know anything about what's going on, or how dangerous of a situation this really is. You know nothing."
"Then enlighten me," Dean quipped, turning the car on and backing out of the parking spot.
"I'll have to. And pray tell, Dean, who are we visiting?"
A dark smile spread over the other agent's features. "Meg Masters."