Most of the house is empty -- or, at least, the parts that Castiel can see as they're walking by. In the hallway, Dean elbows Castiel in the ribs, and when Castiel shoots him an annoyed look, Dean nods at a door that's slightly ajar. Castiel takes a few subtle steps back and looks inside, where a young girl is tied to a chair, her hair soaked in sweat and her face covered in blood. She makes eye contact with him, and though the gag over her mouth prevents her from trying to say something, the look in her eyes is enough to convey her thoughts: she's fucking scared.

Castiel glances at Gordon. If he stays here any longer, Gordon is going to realize it. He's not going to let Castiel -- a homicide detective who has handled a plethora of missing persons cases in his time -- walk out of here knowing there's a girl being held against her will. He wants to tell her that they'll be back for her, but he knows he can't.

I'm sorry, he mouths before hurrying back to Dean's side. He wishes he could do more right now. He wishes she knew they weren't in this alone, that there's a dozen police officers not too far away just waiting for the cue to come in. They'll help her. It's just going to take time.

Apparently the reason the outskirts of Vamp territory was empty was that most of the Vamps are inside. They're gathered at the end of the hall, all standing on the outskirts of a very messy room. There are sleeping bags and dirty pillows all over the floor, wrinkled clothes lying in heaps between them.

The leader -- "the old man," they call him -- stands in the middle of the room, a pleasant smile on his face. He always has seemed like a fairly sweet person; Castiel knows him and his people well enough to know it's a facade.

"Dean, Castiel." The old man nods in greeting. "It's nice to see you again."

Dean doesn't acknowledge that; instead, he just asks a judgemental, "Damn, you really live like this?"

The old man chuckles. "Yes, you've caught us at a bad time, I'm afraid. If I'd known you were visiting today, I would have cleaned up."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Dean says. "I would've made fun of it anyway."

Castiel cracks a smile. Well, at least he's honest.

"And to what do I owe the please?" the old man asks.

"You know what," Castiel says darkly.

"Oh, right," the old man says, like he's just now remembering it. "Yes, I do believe that's something we should discuss."

"No shit," Dean deadpans.

"So who was it?" Castiel asks. "I know it wasn't you -- you don't like to get your hands dirty."

"That's true," the old man drawls. "I do like to stay out of trouble when I can."

"He asked you a question." Dean says. "Who hurt my kid?"

"Your kid?" The old man raises an eyebrow. "Now this I did not know."

"All the young Hunters are my kids, dumbass," Dean snaps. "I would have thought you could relate, what with the lengths you went through to try to bring Alex back."

"Yes, that was... unfortunate," the old man says. "Alex was a wonderful young woman. She --"

"Girl," Dean interrupts. "She wasn't a young woman; she was a young girl. Your men murdered a young girl."

"And then your boy murdered them," the old man says, and Castiel grits his teeth. He was really hoping that wouldn't come up with the cops listening in, but he supposes it was bound to happen eventually. It really was the root of the problem, though in no way Jack's fault. "You lost one of yours; I lost two of mine. I suppose that makes us even."

"Bullshit," Dean snaps. "My guys just ended what yours started."

"'Guys'?" the old man repeats, an eyebrow cocked. "Plural?" He nods slowly. "Interesting..."

Castiel grimaces. He'd like to think there's nothing they could do with that information, but there's always a chance that things could go wrong today. If any of the Vamps get out of here with both their freedom and their lives, this could end very poorly for Claire. He just has to hope they don't find out that it was her.

Dean just rolls his eyes, looking completely unphased. "You know, this is a pretty funky town. The cops are pretty busy; don't have a lot of time to check out abandoned old buildings. How long do you think it would take for them to find 20, 30 dead bodies here? Because I think that would be a very interesting experiment if I catch any of you sniffing around."

Oh, thank god. Dean finally gave the code words (why he chose "funky town" when it means something completely different in any other circumstance doesn't make sense to him, but he's learned not to question the guy), and now all they have to do is stall and pray that no one gets hurt. That should be easy enough, right?

The old man doesn't seem to care about that thinly-veiled threat. He directs his attention to the other Hunter. "You know, Castiel, for an officer of the law, you seem surprisingly okay with these threats on our lives."

Castiel shrugs. "I'm off the clock. I don't have to pretend I'd rather see you in a jail cell than a coffin."

The old man chuckles. "I will admit, I was surprised when I heard you became a cop. It's comforting to see that you're as friendly as ever -- though it doesn't help me understand in the slightest."

"Well, you never were the most forward-thinking person in the world," Castiel says. "I'm not surprised you don't get it."

"Please, enlighten me, then," he says. "The police are no more your friends than they are ours; what do you stand to gain from working with them?"

"I think you just spelled it out right there, buddy," Dean remarks.

Castiel nods. "While you're out here walking on eggshells to stay out of sight, I get to work with them. You have no idea how many investigations I've sabotaged in the last few years -- and don't even get me started on the government tech." He doesn't actually have a lot of government tech -- he wouldn't find much use for government databases even if he was covering for the Hunters, and it's not like he can steal bulletproof vests whenever he wants to do something that could be dangerous -- but it sounds like a believable lie to him. If the old man asks for specifics, Castiel can just shoot him down and it will just look like he's being his usual bitchy self around the Vamps.

"Hmm..." the old man hums. "That's certainly an... interesting... idea. It does seem a little overly-paranoid, though." He looks up at Dean. "I never thought of you as the type of fear the cops -- especially enough to need an inside man." He's clearly skeptical, and probably for good reason. Dean wouldn't have dreamed of sending one of the Hunters to become a cop 14 years ago when Castiel left. If this is the timeline they're working with -- and there isn't much of an alternative -- he has every reason to question it.

Dean doesn't hesitate for a moment to think of an excuse. "I'll admit, we had a bit of a close encounter. I needed someone to keep an eye on things -- someone I knew I could trust." He gives Castiel a playful punch to the shoulder. "And who would I trust more than the legend himself?"

Castiel chuckles and looks down at the floor as if Dean was embarrassing him in front of the Vamps. In reality, Dean is just embarrassing him in front of the cops, but that ship has long sailed. "Oh, stop it."

"So you've really been in this together the whole time?" the old man asks. "You've somehow managed to fool not only the cops, but us, too, for over a decade?"

"Well, to be fair," Castiel says, "you're not exactly the smartest people we've ever met."

The old man doesn't acknowledge that. To Dean, he asks, "And your brother? What is he...?"

"Oh, no, he's actually gone," Dean says. "Went to college, became a lawyer."

"Huh. Good for him," the old man says, and it seems pretty genuine.

Castiel risks a glance at the door. God, what the fuck is taking the cops so long? He knows they were waiting pretty far away, but even so, shouldn't they be here by now? He's sure they could keep up the small talk if they have to, but he's starting to run out of things to say about his alibi for the last 14 years, and he'd rather not have to stand around and pretend he has any idea what the Hunters have been up to.

He'd hoped he was being subtle; it appears he was wrong. The old man cocks an eyebrow. "Anxious to leave, are we?"

Castiel shakes his head and shoots off the first lie he can think of. "Just don't like having my back to the door for this long."

"Don't worry," the old man says. "We'll play nice as long as you will."

"I'm sure Bill Hickock thought the same thing," Dean remarks. "'Those who don't know history' and all that."

Casitel cocks his head to the side. "Who's...?"

"Wild Bill?" Dean tries again.

Castiel squints slightly, no less confused than he had been the first time.

Dean throws his head back, exasperated. "He was a cowboy, Cas."

"Right, I am very sorry I didn't know that," Castiel says sarcastically. Oh, how he hasn't missed Dean's obsessive love of cowboys. At least Dean can't force him into a cowboy hat to watch Tombstone again. It may not have been the reason he left the Hunters, but it sure as hell was a bonus.

"When we get home, I'm going to tell you all about him," Dean says. "And no, you don't have a choice."

Castiel smiles to himself. "When we get home." He says it so casually, like it's the unavoidable outcome. They'll talk to the Vamps, then they'll go home together. It's not true, of course. Castiel knows that. They'll both go to their own homes, but they won't go together and there will be no discussions about cowboys to be had. Still, it's a nice thought.

"You can do that now, if you would like," the old man says politely. "We will leave your boy alone. I presume that's all you came for. While it has been very nice catching up, I do believe it is time we go our separate ways."

Castiel looks up at Dean wearily. They're supposed to stay here and stall until the cops come busting in. He's not sure why the hell it's taking so long, but he does know that they're not supposed to leave yet.

Dean does a good job masking his emotions -- he always has -- but Castiel can read him like a book. He's just as unsure about this as Castiel is. How are they supposed to stall now? He hadn't expected to actually be asked to leave, and he sure as hell doesn't know where else to go with this conversation.

Well, if Dean doesn't have a better idea, there's always the stupid one. Castiel forces a smile, and he's sure every single person in the room can tell it's fake. "This was far more diplomatic than I'd expected, I'll give you that. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for a little violence today, but I'm willing to leave it at this if you can promise no more harm will come to our people -- any of our people."

Dean looks at him like he's crazy, and Castiel makes a point of ignoring that. He knows what he's doing. Granted, it won't prove Dean wrong -- it is crazy and he's crazy for doing it -- but at least it's a plan.

"Of course," the old man says. "I apologize for what happened to your boy -- your nephew, if what Gordon tells me is true."

Castiel snorts. "Oh, I'm sure." The old man can play as dumb as he wants, but Castiel is sure he knew that his men attacked a Hunter, and he's sure the old man didn't give a damn about anything but the possible consequences. Castiel holds out a hand. "'Til next time."

The old man nods politely. "I hope 'next time' is far down the road, for all of our sakes." He reaches out to shake Castiel's hand --

Castiel grabs his forearm and pulls him close, gripping the old man's arm so tightly that his fingers start to hurt. He whips his handcuffs out and slaps one on each of the man's wrists. In a desperate attempt not only to stop the old man from squirming away but also to provide the leverage he very much needs if he doesn't want to get shot, he pulls the old man against him and wraps an arm around him in what he's sure almost looks like a half-hug.

The Vamps are all instantly on their guard, and Castiel can't count the number of guns that are pulled on him at that moment -- not because there are too many but because he really doesn't want to know. His heart is pounding as it is; he doesn't want to see just how bad the situation really is.

"Nicely done, Cas," Dean remarks, and he really does seem to mean it. For the Vamps' benefit, he adds, "You know, I never would've guessed it a few years ago but there are a lot of perks to dating a cop -- perks you couldn't even dream of."

It's a good thing he said that, because Castiel had no idea if they were still faking a relationship now that he's made this more hostile than it seemed at first glimpse. It seems the facade is still on, at least until the rest of the cops show up. They better hurry the hell up, though, because he's not sure how long he can hold the guy.

"Now this is more like it," Castiel says with a smirk.

"Let me go," the old man hisses, squirming to free himself, but to no avail.

"Oh, please, keep trying," Dean tells him. "It's very amusing."

It's much less amusing as the person who has to keep the old man from escaping his grasp, but at least one of them is enjoying it.

"What do you want?" the old man asks.

"Oh, you'll see soon enough," Dean says. "I gotta say, this is --"

Bang!

Without warning, a gun goes off from behind them, hitting Castiel in the back. He lets out a yelp and stumbles forward, his grip on the old man loosening out of instinct. This isn't the first time he's been shot while wearing a bulletproof vest, but having experience doesn't make it any easier. The metal may not have penetrated his skin, but it hit him hard.

Castiel has barely processed the painful throbbing of his back when another goes off, this time from Dean's gun. The first shot made him drop his guard; the second one does the opposite. He tightens his grip on the old man again. He's not letting him out of his grasp until the cops are hauling him away.

He's not sure it matters; the old man won't be walking far, anyway. Dean shot him in the foot, dangerously close to Castiel's but with perfect precision -- especially for a shot he took so little time to aim. The old man groans, but for taking a gunshot to the foot, he seems to cope surprisingly well -- possibly even better than Castiel coped with getting hit.

Castiel shoots his partner a look. What the fuck was that for?

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dean says, not an ounce of sincerity in his voice, "I just got so startled by that gun shot. I acted on instinct. Man, I sure hope there are no more gunshots or I might 'accidentally' shoot him again." He looks over at Castiel and asks quietly, "You okay?"

Castiel nods. "Another perk of having a cop boyfriend: bulletproof vests." He'd like to think Dean's only experience with bulletproof vests comes from television. He likely doesn't realize that all they do is keep you alive; they don't do a goddamn thing to dull the pain.

Dean chuckles. "That's my boy, always on top of things."

"One of us has to be," Castiel says teasingly.

"And it comes as no surprise that the 'one of us' is you," Dean says with a wink.

"What do you want?" the old man asks again, impossibly more irritated this time. The playful flirting probably doesn't help.

"Oh, I got exactly what I wanted," Dean tells him. "I have you right where I want you, which essentially means I have all your people where I want you, too."

"For what?" the old man asks.

"Oh, now that you're gonna have to wait and see on," Dean says. In a mockingly reassuring voice, he adds, "But don't worry. You won't have to wait long to get your just desserts."

"Great," the old man deadpans.

Another shot goes off, and for the briefest moment, Castiel thinks it's Dean who fired it. He's about to tell the man off when he realizes that isn't the case. It can't be the case. Dean would never shoot him in the arm.

Castiel instinctively drops his arm from the old man, his other hand slapping itself on top of the wound. That, of course, only makes it worse, and he groans. It was just a graze, thank god, but it hurts like a son of a bitch.

"Hey!" Dean yells, firing a couple shots at the ceiling as if his voice wasn't already loud enough to get everyone's attention. He grabs the old man's handcuffs by the chain and pulls him over, his gun to the old man's head. It really looks like he's going to pull the trigger for a moment, but he stops himself and slowly lowers his weapon. "Whoever that was, you are very lucky I did not see it," he growls, "because I would put a bullet through your brain before you knew what hit you."

The cops take that exact moment to bust in (couldn't they have done that thirty seconds earlier, before Castiel got shot?), and everything is a blur from there. A lot of handcuffs are used; a lot of Miranda rights are read. He doesn't care. He just needs to hold on until someone takes the old man away.

That someone ends up being Jody. She sucks in a sharp breath when she sees Castiel's arm. "I thought they hit you in the vest!"

"I got hit twice," Castiel says. "It's no big deal. I'm fine."

"You are not fine," Jody says indignantly. "You got shot, Novak. You —"

"This type of thing happens to Hunters all the time," Dean interrupts. "Relax. If he says he's fine, he's fine."

Jody purses her lips, clearly annoyed at that. "You two just... stay here, okay? I'll deal with you in a minute." She gestures to the old man with her head. "I gotta get him out of here."

"Aye aye, captain," Dean replies.

"You know, Winchester," the old man says, "working with cops? That's a new low, even for you."

"You hurt my kids," Dean says. "Nothing is too low after that."

That's all the conversation they get before Jody drags the old man away, and then it's just Dean and Castiel (and the plethora of cops and Vamps surrounding them). This is much better.

"Lemme see your arm," Dean says, pulling his jacket off.

"Dean, I'm fine," Castiel says. "It barely grazed me." Now that the initial shock has worn off, he's decided his back hurts far more than his arm does. The burning sensation of an open wound may be more painful, but the large scale of what he's sure is soon to be his very-bruised back feels worse.

"It wasn't a request," Dean says. "C'mon, off with the jacket."

Castiel rolls his eyes but does what he's told. Unlike Dean who always wears at least two layers of flannel under his leather jacket, Castiel is just wearing a tee shirt, his wound easily visible. He'd known it would be bleeding, but he didn't realize it would be bleeding this much. He's almost glad he got to help Jack when he was bleeding from all over; it makes looking at this much easier.

"Ooh, that's gotta hurt," Dean mutters. He pulls off his top flannel and wraps it around Castiel's arm. Castiel grits his teeth to keep from crying out. If it wasn't bad before, it sure as hell is now. He knows applying pressure is good for wounds like this, but right now, it really doesn't feel like it. "Better?"

"Not at all," Castiel says.

"Yeah, sorry." Dean throws his jacket back on, then grabs Castiel's for him. "You'll thank me later, though."

"No, I don't think I will," Castiel says, though he knows Dean is right. With a small, almost nervous smile, he asks, "So, does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Oh, no, I'm still mad," Dean says, and Castiel's heart deflates. "But god damn, I forgot how much fun we used to have together."

Castiel chuckles. "It was kind of fun, wasn't it?" He wasn't expecting a trip down memory lane, but this really does leave him feeling nostalgic.

"Now, I'm not saying we should do it more often," Dean says in a way that clearly implies that's exactly what he's saying, "but —"

"It wasn't that fun," Castiel says, and while he does mean it, he says it more teasingly than anything.

"It totally was," Dean says. "I mean, come on. We killed that — and without actually killing anyone, too!"

"Which I'm sure was the hardest part," Castiel remarks. "I could've sworn you were gonna shoot him for a second."

"I absolutely was," Dean says, then he pauses. "Are the cops still listening? 'Cause if they are, for legal reasons, that was a joke."

Castiel snorts. "I have no idea, but there's a good chance everything we're saying is being recorded." He hadn't actually thought about that until now, so thank god Dean said something. It's likely that no one will listen to the recording, at least this far into it, but there's always the possibility.

"Well, fuck, huh?" Dean says, though he doesn't really seem to care. He clicks his tongue, his eyes lighting up as an idea occurs to him. "You know what we should do?"

Castiel hesitates. "Do I want to know?"

Dean takes that as a cue to continue. "We should go see if that girl is still here. You know, the..." He gestures vaguely. "The girl."

"The kidnapped one," Castiel substitutes, because clearly words are not Dean's forte. "Yeah, actually, that's probably a good idea. I don't know if anyone else...?" He'd like to think that someone would have stopped if they saw her, but he can't know that for certain. There's also a chance no one noticed her at all. Castiel himself wouldn't have if Dean hadn't pointed her out.

"Okay, cool," Dean says. "Because I do not have the patience to sit around and do nothing while we wait for your boss to come back."

"Then c'mon." Castiel gestures for him to follow before turning to the door. "We have a girl to check on."