Balthazar's plan involved driving north from Nebraska, heading up to South Dakota. Apparently, he had some sort of hideaway up past the Badlands National Park where they could lie low and try to come up with a better plan. At this point, they had nothing else that even resembled a plan. It was better than nothing. No one had to say out loud that their chances of not getting caught at this point were poor at best. They were out of options, had no one else to turn to, and were likely being watched everywhere they went. Every time they passed a police cruiser, everyone in the car stiffened, waiting for flashing lights and sirens. So far, nothing had happened. Still, Dean knew it was unlikely either of the groups chasing them would use the police for anything more than surveillance. That still meant an unknown number of eyes could be tracking them right now. The paranoia was wearing on everyone. No one spoke. The miles passed in tense silence. Even the weather seemed to be mirroring the mood in the car, with grey clouds covering the sky and cold winds stirring up the dust.

Dean was feeling rather wretched as he slouched in the backseat of Balthazar's Taurus. The car the agent had stolen for their use was nice enough, although depressingly modern. Worse, Balthazar was listening to a country music station on the radio. An utterly absurd version of "Drift Away" was being yodeled by some moron wanna-be cowboy, turning a timeless classic into a stupid piece of country garbage about beer and pickups. Dean wanted to scream. Although he fully understood why he'd had to leave his Baby behind and would do it again if he had to, he missed her terribly right now. But the one time that he'd suggested Balth try another station, Sam had smugly reminded him of the "Driver picks the music" rule. Dean had to be content with wallowing in his misery. Unfortunately, he and Cass had also lost all of their supplies, left behind in Baby's trunk. Now Dean had exactly one set of clothing, which he was currently wearing, while Cass was still in one of his accountant suits and his now-familiar trench coat. Things were going to get very uncomfortable if they didn't get clean underwear soon.

"The file is a whole collection of items all relating to the same thing," Sam explained from the front passenger seat. The nerd had been head-down in Ash's file for some time now. "It's everything you ever wanted to know about Roman Enterprises but never bothered to ask. Specifically, it's about its CEO, Dick Roman."

"Dick Roman?" Dean mused. He leaned up from behind his brother to look over Sam's shoulder at the picture of Roman. "I know that name. Isn't he the guy who runs Sucrocorp or something like that?"

"That's him," Sam agreed. "He's a big name in the food industry. I can't phantom why Ash would send anyone a file on him. I don't know why he would even put a file together on him. What does sweetener have to do with the dragons?"

Dean shrugged. "You're the genius, genius. Maybe there's some sort of encryption, and the real message is buried in all the Food King stuff?"

Sam grumbled and went back into the files. Despite himself, Dean smiled. He was glad Sam had managed to bring along a laptop, although he wasn't sure what geek thing he and Balth had done to it that made it untraceable. Didn't matter. Sam had been able to load the file Ash had sent Bobby onto it and was busy going through the information again. Surely he'd find something.

"Dick Roman isn't just in the food industry, although that is his primary focus," Balthazar said. "If I recall, he's got his fingers in the tech industry a bit, too."

"He does," Castiel agreed from the rear seat next to Dean. "I think I can recall seeing the Roman Enterprises logo on some of the equipment I used as an MP."

"Oh?" Balthazar asked, interested. "What sort of equipment?"

"Cameras and recording equipment," Castiel explained. "Nothing particularly high-tech, or even all that good, to be honest, but a lot of state and federal law enforcement agencies use his stuff."

"Well, that is the military for you," Dean sighed. "Like the drill sergeants told us back in basic, our equipment is always made by the lowest bidder."

"Amen to that," Balth grumbled. "Intelligence typically used better stuff, but even we never got the high-end equipment unless it was a special assignment. Even then, we had to fill out paperwork to justify the expense. No government agency likes to spend money, not when they have to account to politicians for every penny." He considered a moment. "Now that I think about it, yeah, I do remember seeing the Roman Enterprises logo on a lot of our equipment. In fact, I think that company makes some of the spy satellites we've got up there right now."

"While that is anything but comforting, it doesn't explain why Ash would send us this information about him," Sam said. "These are just a bunch of articles detailing Roman's rise to power. Apparently, the guy has some unexpectedly strong political pull. There's pictures of him with a lot of people in government, and not just in America. He's one of the richest people in the country and has holdings in a lot of other countries, too. He's a big donor, which means he's apparently a mover and a shaker in government."

"So he's in the information business?" Balth asked. "Interesting choice. Someone like that would be able to get, sell, and use a lot of information on a lot of people. It would explain why a food sweetener mogul would have so much political pull. I always figured that sleezy bastard was corrupt in some way, just because he looks untrustworthy."

"Damn, Balth, tell us how you really feel," Dean grumbled. "You're right, though, he does give off a sleezy vibe."

"You cannot arrest someone for looking sleezy," Cass complained.

Sam looked up. "This is certainly someone who'd have his own private jet, probably more than one. Seems like he's got the money to hire mercenaries or bribe guards, too. But I'm sorry, I just don't see the link to the dragons. What could a food additive producer want with dragons?"

"Put it aside for now, Sam," Balthazar suggested gently. "Give that big brain of yours a rest and look at it again later through fresh eyes."

He slowed, pulling into a rest stop. Dean immediately protested, but Balth shook his head. "I need a break," he admitted as he parked. "Let's stretch our legs a little, get some fresh air, pee, maybe grab a snack. We could all use a minute or two to clear our heads."

No one could argue with that. Dean eyed Balth as he headed for the men's room. The agent was looking a little peaked, with dark circles under his eyes. Balth hadn't been kidding about needing a break. Dean made up his mind to offer to drive when they got back to the car. Meanwhile, he wouldn't complain about this unexpected delay.

He did his business in the men's room and grabbed a candy bar from the vending machine. He ate it quickly and then went for a stroll, walking among the trucks parked behind the rest stop. Sam soon joined him. "I'm sorry, Dean," the younger man sighed. "I feel like I should be able to figure this out, but while it's right there, I just can't put my finger on it."

"Hey, this isn't all on you," Dean soothed. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like it was. You're probably the smartest guy in the room nearly everywhere you go, but you're not the only guy in that room."

"I know." Sam moodily kicked at a loose bit of pavement, sending it skidding along the surface of the parking lot. "I just really feel like the answer's right in front of my nose, but I'm still not seeing it."

"Balth's right, much as I hate to admit it." Dean gave his brother a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Clear your mind for now, focus on something else. Go back to it with a fresh outlook. Then you can go back to thinking about Dick." He snickered, seeing Sam's expression to his bad joke. "Dick Roman," Dean chuckled. "What a name. I heard he's a real hardass, too, like he burns through executives pretty quick if they screw up even a little. I remember he fired a bunch of people over a minor screw-up that anyone could have made and wasn't even that hard to fix. Sounds like Dick Roman is a real dick."

"Are you done?" Sam asked impatiently as Dean went into another sniggering fit. "I can see that you're going to be a real pain in the ass about this."

Dean shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? The guy's name is Dick Roman, it's pretty much tailor-made for dick jokes!" That made him snigger again. Sam looked as if he was considering punching him.

"Excuse me?"

Startled, the brothers turned and saw a young man looking just barely out of his teens coming out from between a couple of trucks. The stranger was smiling brightly, with blonde hair, a lanky build, and blue eyes and a smile that made Dean think of Castiel. "Hi," the stranger called. "I'm Jack."

"Nice to meet you, Jack," Dean offered, eyeing him. "Where'd you come from?"

"From that big black truck on the end," Jack explained, pointing. "We just pulled in and I saw you walking. Then I heard you talking about Dick Roman."

"Fair enough. Did you need something?"

"Well…" Jack rubbed at the back of his neck. "I overheard you talking about Dick Roman. It doesn't sound like you like him very much."

"I don't actually know the guy, but what I've heard isn't that good," Dean said. "Can I ask what business it is of yours?"

"Dean," Sam called softly. "I think maybe he's a little impaired."

Dean looked again at Jack. While the kid wasn't swaying or glassy-eyed, Dean soon realized what Sam meant. Jack was smiling at them with all the guile of a child. Now he was even skipping a little to get closer to the brothers. Dean got the distinct impression that Jack was indeed mentally challenged in some way, either on the autism spectrum or perhaps living with brain damage. When he approached the brothers, he didn't hesitate to reach out and clasp both of their arms. "I don't like him either," he announced, still with his bright, cheerful smile in place. "He's mean. I have a friend who works for him and Dick doesn't treat him well at all. I really want him to leave us alone. Can you help us?"

Sam smiled back at Jack. "Well, Jack, I'm not sure what it is you think we can do, but I wish we could."

"Oh, there's something you can do," Jack said excitedly. "You can help us, I know you can! Will you?"

Now Dean was smiling, too. Jack was so earnest, smiling and clinging to their arms like a small child, that it was impossible not to respond to him. "Well buddy, we'd like to help if we can," he offered. "What is it you think we can do?"

"Simple." Jack began pulling on their arms. To Dean's surprise, he found himself pulled forward. The kid was surprisingly strong. "I just need you to come with me," Jack explained.

"Wait," Sam called, clearly just as surprised as Dean. "Jack, what are you doing? Where are you trying to take us?"

Before Jack could answer, Dean felt a sudden wave of fear wash over him. He stiffened in alarm, looking past Jack's shoulder to see Cass had come out to the truck parking area. Now the dragon was staring, pale-faced, at the trio. "Dean!" Castiel's voice was full of fear. "Don't move!"

Jack stopped and looked back. His smile grew even wider. "Hi! I'm Jack. What's your name?"

"I'm Castiel," Cass announced, cautiously taking a step closer. The dragon had his hands slightly raised, wide blue eyes moving between Jack and the brothers. "I'm no threat to you. I'll do whatever you want, just let them go."

Jack lit up like the sun. "You will? You'll really help? Thank you!"

Cass nodded frantically, his eyes flickering between Jack and the brothers. "Yes, I'll help you, just please, let them go?"

"Oh," Jack said, deflating slightly. "But I need their help, too."

Dean was staring in horror at Jack. During the exchange, it had dawned on him what was happening. His eyes went to Jack's hand, gripping firmly to Dean's wrist. The grip was snug, not tight, but when Dean tentatively tried to pull away, the unnatural strength behind the young man's grip immediately became obvious. He swallowed hard. No wonder Jack acted like he was somewhat brain damaged. He'd been the first person the military had lobotomized before he'd become the joining partner for his dragon. "Michael?" Dean asked tentatively.

Jack's attention snapped back to Dean. He frowned. "I'm Jack, not Michael. Dick calls me Michael and so did those other people, the ones from the Army we worked for before Dick. I don't want to be Michael right now. I want to be Jack, and I want you to help me." He looked pleadingly back at Castiel. "You said you'll help me, but I need all of you to help."

"Ok, Jack," Sam soothed, forcing a smile on his pale, sweaty face. "We're here to help you. You don't have to hold on to us like this, ok? It's scaring us."

"Scaring you?" Jack echoed. His expression grew troubled. "Oh. I don't want to scare you. I just want you to help me."

"Let go of us, and tell us what you want," Sam offered.

"Ok!" Jack immediately let them go.

Dean threw an arm in front of Sam, pushing his brother back behind him even as the two took a few rapid steps back. Jack watched them, troubled. "Please don't go? I really need your help. I can't let you get away again."

"Yes, I understand that, and we're here, ready to help," Cass called quickly. The dragon had hurried to get closer, trying to maneuver himself between Jack and the Winchesters, still holding his arms out in a submissive display. "It just really scared us that you were holding on to Sam and Dean the way you were. Now we're all talking together. Can you tell us what you need?"

Jack appeared to be not at all upset to find another dragon standing between him and the brothers. He looked hopefully at Castiel. "It's my friend Adam," Jack explained. "Dick keeps hurting him to make me do things I really don't want to do, but I can't get him out."

"Dick?" Sam asked. "You mean Dick Roman, the CEO of Sucrocorp and Roman Enterprises?"

"That's him," Jack confirmed. "I don't want to stay with him, but they won't Adam go. He's in a car back there," he pointed back farther in the parking lot, "but they don't let me see him. They only bring him along to make sure I follow orders and then go back. But every time I go back, they lock me up again. I only get to see Adam and talk to him if I do what they want, and only when I'm in my cage and Adam's in chains with people with guns guarding him. Even then, they only let me see him for a little while." Jack's blue eyes were filling with tears. "I really miss him. He's my best friend, but he's always sad. I need you to help me save him!"

"That's precisely what we want to do, Jack," Castiel assured, eyes flicking hopefully to Sam and Dean. "The problem is, how do you want us to help you?"

"Well, if I bring you all back now, then I'll get to see Adam," Jack explained excitedly. "Dick's been watching you for a while now. He knows Gabriel is with you somewhere, too, so he sent me to get him," he pointed at Dean, "so you would listen, too. The thing is, he's not the most important one for me to find. Dick really wants Gabriel, you see. But I couldn't find him, no matter how hard I tried. Dick was really mad about that. When he sent me out here, he said to make very sure that I get the other guy, the ones who's partners with Gabriel. But I don't see him, either, so I grabbed him instead." Now he pointed at Sam. "Gabriel's partner is always with him anyway, so that counts, right?" He looked hopefully at Castiel.

Dean blinked in surprise. What would Dick Roman want with Gabriel? Something about that, combined with the file Ash had sent them, triggered something in the back of his mind, but Dean couldn't put his finger on it.

"Well, Jack, here's the thing," Cass began. The dragon was still outwardly very calm, although Dean could feel how anxious he really was. "If you take us back to Dick, he'll lock us up, too. He'll do the same thing to Dean that he's doing to Adam, so I have to listen the way you do. But he's not going to let you or Adam go once he has us. If we go back with you, then he'll just have more dragons to control."

"I know!" Jack's voice sounded desperate now. "He wants all of us, me and you and Raphael and especially Gabriel. I know he'll just lock us all away. That's why I don't want to do this, but I have to. I have to help Adam. I'm sorry, but you have to come with me now."

Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry too, Jack, but we can't do that."

Jack's face fell. "Then I'll have to fight you," he said sadly.

"Yes," Cass replied, bracing. "I'm afraid you do."

Dean had no idea when Balthazar had gotten there, how he'd realized so quickly what was happening, or how he'd managed to sneak around the trucks without anyone spotting him. Clearly, the former intelligence agent was very good at his job. Unfortunately, Dean doubted the "intelligence" part applied to what Balthazar did next. The man came racing out from between the parked trucks near them and charged shoulder-first into Jack.

Jack might actually be Michael, the fully-grown, highly dangerous dragon, but his body was that of a slender young man. Balthazar's unexpected charge sent the younger man flying, knocking him to the side and driving him between the row of trucks on the other side. "Go!" he screamed.

Castiel apparently needed no urging. The dragon transformed in an instant. He whirled, grabbed Sam and Dean in his front paws and took to the sky. Behind them came a furious roar. Terrified, Dean looked back and saw the two trucks that Balth and Jack had gone between suddenly get knocked sideways, their trailers crushing from the sudden appearance of the great dragon wedged between them. Michael clawed his way free from the wreckage and immediately gave chase. Dean felt sick for more reasons than one. He had no idea what had happened to Balthazar, but between Michael and the two trucks, he didn't see how the man hadn't been crushed. "Balth!" he screamed.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help him," Castiel moaned, still flapping frantically for speed and distance.

"I know you couldn't, buddy," Sam said, a catch in his voice. "Yes, Dean, I can hear him, being bonded to Gabriel gave me that ability. But Gabriel can't help us now. I have no idea what to do!"

"I'm open to suggestions," Dean called, squeezing his eyes tightly shut in an effort to ignore the fact that they were racing through the sky. "Ok, Dick Roman's behind all this, Michael and Adam are being forced into it, and the son of a bitch really wants Gabriel. But I still don't get the connection between Dick and the dragons. More importantly, I have no idea how we're getting out of this one. They obviously are still tracking us, and just as obviously, they know Gabe's around somewhere. Since their goons couldn't take on two dragons, they sent Michael himself."

"He's not alone," Cass reported. "I'm betting there were mercenaries in that truck Jack came in, and it looks like a lot more were surrounding the rest stop."

"Jack said Adam Milligan is here," Dean recalled. His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut as he clung to Cass's paw for dear life. "He's apparently in a car back at the truck stop. That's how they're controlling Michael. But how the hell do they keep finding us?"

They had to have been tracking us somehow, just waiting for us to stop."

"My guess is they're in the video feeds from the street cameras," Sam guessed. "It's probably Roman's company that made the cameras they used, so it wouldn't be hard for them to hack into them, provided they had a starting point. Michael was obviously at the Roadhouse, and by then, they knew Gabriel was with us. They must have searched every camera for miles to find us. Of course, it's easy, now. With Castiel flying like this right in the open sky in broad daylight, there's no way they won't keep tracking us." He looked back, his hair whipped wildly by the wind. "And Michael is right behind us!"

"No choice," Castiel moaned. "I've got to fight him now. I'll lead him somewhere as far away from civilians as I can, put you down, and face him."

"But he's…" Sam shook his head. "He doesn't want any of this, he's being forced! Fighting him would be like fighting a kid."

"A very large, dangerous, fire-breathing kid, Sam," Dean reminded sternly. "I don't like it either, and I know Cass doesn't want to do it, but he's right. We're out of choices right now. Unless you can think of another way out?" He looked hopefully at his brother, but Sam was shaking his head. Dean swallowed hard. "Then this fight is about to happen."

"Hang on," Castiel warned. "I'm going to try to shake him."

Dean dared to look down and realized they were over the canyons in the Badlands National Park. To his horror, Castiel was swooping down, skimming through the canyons, the tips of his wings inches from the canyon walls. Dean immediately squeezed his eyes shut again. Next to him, he could hear his bitch of a brother whooping and cheering Cass on. Dean's stomach rumbled in warning. He was suddenly glad he'd just used the bathroom.

The wind buffeted them. Dean tried not to picture it forcing Castiel to wobble dangerously close to the canyon walls, startling stray buffalo and freaking out any late-season tourists. How anyone was going to keep this out of the news, he had no idea. Dean supposed they were lucky it was anything but prime tourist season. The winds were absolutely freezing. Dean's exposed cheeks and hands were already numb, although he still felt warm where Cass's paw was gripping him around the middle. He didn't remember much of the Badlands. He knew they were huge to someone standing on the ground, but had no idea just how far they ranged, especially flying at the speed they were going. No matter what, Cass was going to run out of canyons.

Unfortunately, Dean was proven right a moment later when he heard Cass's voice in his head. "He's good, way too good for me to shake. I'm trying everything I was trained to do, but I can't lose him. I see a place where I'm going to drop the two of you off. Then I'll have to face him."

Son of a bitch competed in Dean's mind with Thank God! While he was glad the awful flight was about to end, the idea that Castiel was about to face his toughest challenge yet made his blood run far colder than the winds. But a moment later, with a warning to tuck and roll, Castiel released him. Dean immediately tucked into a ball, rolling roughly along the ground. He came to a sprawling stop in a cloud of dust and looked up to see his dragon had already gone charging back, claws and fangs ready to face Michael.