Over the next two weeks, the Bloody Valentine really does drop off the radar. There's no sign of him. Castiel tries calling a couple times every day, but he knows it's no use. The guy never keeps a phone after a call, and no one's been able to track it. It's safe to assume he broke it the second he hung up, not that anyone's gone to check.

Michael was fine with that, to Castiel's surprise. He's still fine with it. He's under the impression that they saved a lot of local law enforcement lives, and he may be right.

But Castiel is starting to second guess himself. Maybe it was a trap, maybe it wasn't, he doesn't know. But what he does know is that he hasn't heard anything since, and that may have been their last chance to catch him, at least for a while. Maybe they should have taken it.

"I'm heading home for the night," Hannah says.

"'Night," Castiel replies, his eyes still on his map of every place the guy had hit in the last few months.

"You should, too," Hannah adds. "Get some rest. Save your brain for when we have something to go on."

Castiel sighs. "That's probably a good idea."

"Of course it is," Hannah replies. "I've only been saying it for five years."

"I'm just gonna try to call him one more time, then I'm out."

Hannah rolls her eyes. "Yeah, okay. You do that. I'm leaving now."

Castiel doesn't pay her any mind as she packs up her things. He dials the number he now has committed to memory and waits.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

"Cas, I fucked up."

Castiel almost falls out of his chair when he hears that voice. "You picked up."

Hannah looks over immediately, eyes wide. Castiel doesn't know what to do, so he doesn't do anything.

"Yeah, looks like," he replies.

"Where have you been?" Castiel asks, like a dumbass. There's no way he's going to get an answer. That would give too much away, and the guy's smarter than that.

"Is this what it feels like to have a responsible parent?" he asks. "I don't know how I feel about this."

"No, I mean..." Well, actually, that does almost sound like a parent. He didn't quite have a defense to that. "You 'fucked up'?"

Hannah wheels her chair in front of Castiel's desk, impatiently waiting for answers. Castiel has to wave her off, a silent promise to tell her everything in a second.

"Big time."

"What did you do?" Castiel asks.

"I got shot."

Castiel starts choking on air at that. "You got shot?"

Hannah gapes at him. She whispers, so quietly that she's almost mouthing the words, "He got shot?"

Castiel just nods.

"Yeah. Twice."

"Are you okay?" Castiel asks, then realizes that was probably a stupid question. Why should he care whether the guy's okay? He's a serial killer. Why is his first instinct to treat him like a normal person? If anything, he should probably hope the guy isn't okay.

"I think that depends on your definition of 'okay,'" he says. "I can barely walk. For days, if I made one wrong move I'd started bleeding again. I've been squatting in the same abandoned house for weeks 'cause I don't feel like I can go anywhere or do anything."

Castiel isn't quite sure how to feel about that. After a pause, he asks, "How did you get shot?"

"Broke into the wrong house, I guess," he says. "Killed the wrong people."

"Did you go to the hospital?" They could check for hospital visits near any recent murders for patients admitted for gunshot wounds, hopefully at least get an idea of what this guy looks like.

"Do I strike you as the type of guy to have health insurance?"

Castiel can't help but smile to himself at that. He's decently sure it wasn't a joke — paying a whole hospital bill out of pocket would be damn near impossible — but it certainly sounds like one.

"I guess not," Castiel says. "You know, we could get you to a hospital, free of charge."

"If I turn myself in," he finishes. "I think I'd rather just pray that there's no bullet inside me than spend the rest of my life in jail, but I appreciate the offer."

"Are you sure?" he asks. "Gun shot wounds are not something to take lightly."

"Neither is life in prison," he says.

"Then why did you tell me?" Castiel asks. "If you don't want my help, what's the point?"

"What's the point of any of this?" he counters. "I just need something to do, and you're the closest thing to a friend I've got."

Castiel props his head up on his hand, covering his surprised look. He should have known, obviously, that the guy didn't have many friends. There's not a whole lot of room for them when you're constantly traveling the country and killing people. But the fact that his best friend is the guy trying to put him in jail... that's just sad.

"What?" Hannah whispers.

Castiel just holds up a finger, gesturing for her to wait a moment.

"Cas?" he says cautiously. "You still here?"

"Yeah," Castiel says. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Cool."

Castiel holds the phone between his ear and shoulder, and grabs a piece of paper and a pencil to write Hannah a note. "Tell Michael. Have them track the call. I didn't think to record it but there doesn't seem to be any reason to." Castiel knows what the guy's saying. No one else needs to. It's probably better that Michael doesn't know a serial killer considers him his closest friend, anyway.

Hannah reads the note over, nods once, then darts from his desk

"We haven't met, have we?" Castiel asks. Maybe he's talked to the guy without knowing it's him. That could be why he sees them as friends.

"No, why would we have?"

"Just wondering."

"Is this about the friend thing?" he asks. "'Cause I know you don't feel the same. I just don't really talk to people."

"Well, I'm sure it's hard to make friends when you murder them," Castiel remarks.

"That's kinda rude," he says.

"So is murder."

"That's fair," he says. "How long do I have until you track the call and send the cops after me?"

"I'm not," Castiel lies. He sure as hell isn't telling the guy to leave before they catch him.

"Not long, I'm guessing?" he asks. "I should probably go, get a head start."

"That's probably a good idea," Castiel admits, because he's leaving anyway, so what's the point of lying about it?

"It was nice talking to you," he says. "I'm gonna kill the phone, so you won't be able to call me back until I get a new one. 'Till then, have fun chasing your tail, Cas. I know I'll have fun watching it."

There's a click, and Castiel sighs. He'll give it an hour, tops, before they tell him the guy's nowhere to be seen. He's just too good.