"There's no sign of a break-in," Mills mutters under her breath.

"Ted Bundy could charm his way into anything," Castiel remarks. "Don't see why he'd be any different." He was able to charm his way into Anna's house, after all.

"Why bother? He doesn't strike me as the type to want to hang out," she says.

Castiel can hear it in her tone that she's not thrilled with him questioning her. But he can't help it. This is what he does.

"He might be," Castiel says. "Looting the house or something? Might as well treat it like he is."

Chief Mills eyes him for a moment, and Castiel isn't quite fond of the look on her face, but he can deal with making enemies if it means even a slight chance at catching this guy. That's what his whole career has been about. Looks like it's not stopping now.

"Check the door," she says.

"No, we need to surround the house," Castiel says. "He sees us, he'll run. He's not an amateur."

"Did I ask?" she says, exasperated.

"If you won't send anyone, I'll do it myself."

Castiel heads around the house at a quick jog. He can hear her calling after him, but when he sees movement at the back door, he officially decides Mills's opinions aren't important right now.

"Someone's still here!" Castiel yells.

"What?" Mills yells back.

"He's here!" Castiel gestures for Jody to come closer.

Chief Mills glances around at the rest of the officers, then silently tells them to stay where they are before jogging after Castiel.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Novak?" she snaps. "You can't just make up whatever rules you —"

"You are more than welcome to yell at me later," Castiel says, "but right now, there's a potential serial killer right in front of our faces, and we have no freaking idea when reinforcements are coming."

"I don't even know if I believe he's in there," she says. "I have no idea what's gotten into you, but you're a cop, Novak. I know this is bigger than anything we've ever faced, but it's what we do."

"And not very well," he mutters under his breath. He's gonna have to talk to Michael about making sure every station is ready for this. No wonder they've never been able to catch him. The locals suck.

"Listen to me," she says. "We don't have time to wait. We have to go in, now, before he decides to, I don't know, shoot us and run."

"He won't," he says. He's had at least one close run in with the cops — two if Anna counts. No one got shot then. Hell, he's never actually shot any victim before. They're safe. But how does he explain that to her?

"You don't know that," she says. "Come on. We have to —"

Castiel cuts her off. "Dean!"

She slaps a hand over his mouth, hissing in his ear, "What the hell are you doing?"

Castiel pulls her arm off and waits. And waits. And waits.

Nothing.

"I know you're in there, Dean."

"Shut up," Chief Mills hisses.

Castiel waits. And waits. And waits.

Then the blinds move in the upstairs window, ever so slightly. Castiel wants to point it out, but he's sure it wouldn't be welcome. Serial killers don't like being pointed out.

"I see you," Castiel says loudly.

"What are you doing?" Chief Mills demands, and it's clear she doesn't believe him.

There's a pause, then the blinds close again. Castiel sighs. That didn't go as planned.

But then they're raised slightly, and the window opens a crack before the blinds fall back down.

"You remember me, right?" Castiel asks, and he doesn't have to say it as loud now that the window is open.

"You know him?" Chief Mills says, confused.

There's a pause, then, "I thought you quit."

She looks up at the house in surprise. "He's talking."

Castiel gestures to her to shut up, then takes a couple steps closer to the house so they can talk easier. "I did. I'm not with the FBI, I'm with the local police now."

"Why?"

"I didn't think I'd have to deal with you here," Castiel says, and it's true. That was his biggest motivation.

"I'm sorry," he says. "About your sister."

"No, you're just sorry that you finally have to have consequences for your actions," Castiel says. "But I appreciate you leaving her alive. We learned a lot about you, Dean."

There's a long pause. Castiel clasps his hands behind her back, sort of nervous. Should he have kept that to himself? It seemed like a good idea the first time, trying to get his attention, but he might be losing that attention now.

But then, he says, "No one's called me that in a long time."

"Probably because you kill everyone as soon as you tell them that's your name," Castiel says, mostly to piss him off a little. But it's true, and he does like killing people, so he may take pride in it.

"Even Michael hasn't said it," Dean says.

"They didn't think it was your real name," Castiel says. "But you wouldn't get anything out of lying about it."

"So they don't know," Dean says. "The only people who know are you and me."

Castiel glances at Mills, but decides against mentioning her. Wherever Dean's going with this, he's sure he doesn't want to drag her into it.

"That's correct," Castiel says.

"It's like our little secret."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. That's definitely not what he thought Dean meant. "I guess so, for now."

"So you're going to tell them?"

"I have to."

"That's kinda rude."

"You tried to kill my sister," Castiel reminds him. "You cost me my job. I had to give up everything to move to the middle of Nowhere, USA, because of you. I think I'm allowed to be 'kinda rude.'"

"I said I'm sorry," Dean says.

"If you were sorry, you'd come out and let me take you in," Castiel says.

"Then I'll meet you at the back door."

Castiel takes a step back instinctively, shocked. "Really?"

"If that's what it takes to prove I'm sorry, then yes."

Castiel nods slowly. "Then yes, we'll meet you at the back door."

An eye peeks between the blinds, and he says, "Not her. Just you and me."

"Fine."

"Novak," Chief Mills growls. "Don't you dare."

"Trust me," Castiel whispers. "Just be ready, in case he makes a run for it."

"I'm not worried about him running —"

"I'll be fine," Castiel interrupts. "And, if not? That's okay with me. This is my job."

She hesitates, then sighs. "I'll have my gun ready. You grab him the second he comes out, or I'm shooting."

Castiel nods once, then heads to the back door. He knocks, waiting, his hand on his gun just in case.

"Dean?" Castiel says cautiously.

The door swings open, and just as Castiel starts to reach for him, Dean pulls him inside and throws him on the floor, and Castiel slams his hands down quickly to stop himself from.smashing his face against the concrete. Castiel tries to climb to his feet, but within seconds, Dean is on top of him, sitting on his back and holding his arms down. Castiel keeps fighting him, trying to free himself, but he can't.

"Stop!" Dean yells. "Stop it! Stop moving!"

Obviously, Castiel doesn't listen, because he values his life.

Dean grabs both of Castiel's hands in one of his, and Castiel is sure he'll be able to use that to his advantage. He can't crane his neck enough to see what's happening, but he can feel Dean's free hand on his waist, and Castiel tries to wiggle away from him. Dean pulls his hand away, and Castiel realizes that he was just trying to get his gun.

Well, this is it. He's locked in a house, lying under a serial killer who has his gun. And suddenly he realizes he wasn't as ready to die as he claimed.

Dean throws the gun down the hall behind him, far out of both their reaches, before pinning Castiel's hands back down again.

"Let go of me!" Castiel growls, trying to kick his legs free.

"Stop it!" Dean says again. "Stop! Just listen to me! I'm not going to hurt you, I swear! I just want to talk!"

"Why do I have a very hard time believing that?" Castiel says.

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have thrown you gun across the house," Dean says. "Besides, killing you won't get me out of this mess. This is it. I've made my peace with it. I just wanna know what happens next."

Castiel stop trying to fight him, too shocked to move. That's not where he thought this was going.

"If I get off you, will you listen to what I have to say?" Dean asks. "I just want answers."

"Sure," Castiel says.

Dean climbs off him, and Castiel instantly turns around and stands up, ready to grab him. Dean pulls him back in the ground, leaving Castiel facing the ceiling this time, and sits on his legs, holding his arms down by the wrists.

As Castiel makes his peace with the fact that he has no chance of getting out of here, he starts to calm down. When there's no point of fighting for his life — or at least his freedom — it's surprisingly easy to calm down.

He finally gets his first real look at this man he's been searching for for years, and, in his calm state, he realizes one thing he never thought was possible.

The guy's actually really hot.

Castiel usually pictures serial killers as drug addicts or unhealthily skinny or hairy and unshaven and unkempt. This guy seems pretty healthy and fit, clean-shaven with a neat haircut. How someone in his career path manages to stay so put together, Castiel had no idea, but he's glad he does. At least his eyes will be happy, even if the rest of him is concerned that he's basically a hostage right now.

"Cas?" Dean says quietly, and it's only then that Castiel registers the nervous look on his face. He didn't think the guy knew how to be nervous. He's a lot more human than Castiel had pictures.

"Hmm?" Castiel hums.

"What's gonna happen to me?" Dean asks, which is definitely not what Castiel had expected. "Life in prison? Death penalty?"

"I have no idea," Castiel admits. "Something better than being on the run the rest of your life, at least."

"I guess," Dean says reluctantly. "Prison doesn't sound too bad. It'll be nice to finally have a home."

Castiel doesn't speak for a long moment, just studying him. For the longest time, he thought of this guy as some sadistic psychopath with no feelings, his only motivation to kill. But right now, Castiel can definitely see he was wrong. Dean definitely has feelings, and right now, he looks scared, but also almost relieved and hopeful.

"Have you ever had a home?" Castiel asks slowly.

"Not really," Dean says. "I grew up in cheap motels. I've never really stayed in one place very long. Is it fun? Does it get boring?"

Castiel feels a pang sympathy. Not to draw on stereotypes, but kids living in cheap motels don't usually have the greatest childhoods. That could explain a lot. The guy's almost definitely a sadistic psychopath, but this still explains a lot.

"It's nice," Castiel tells him. "A lot less stressful, I'd imagine."

Dean nods slowly. "Will I get to talk to people? Or at least see people? Or am I gonna be stuck in solitary confinement?"

"I don't know," Castiel admits. "I think if you cooperate and you prove you can get along with everyone, you might end up in a high security prison, but that's still better than solitary confinement."

"I guess," Dean says.

"I can try to answer all your questions, if you want," Castiel says, "but do you think I could do it sitting up?"

Dean hesitates. "But then you could run away. You already tried it once."

"And I realized there's no point," Castiel says. "I'm sure there are people outside working on getting me out as we speak. Hell, I bet the SWAT's gonna get involved if they're not already. It'll honestly be easier to just stay here until they bust in."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

Dean hesitates, then climbs off him, watching him warily. Castiel gives him a small, thankful smile — why he's thankful when Dean got him into this anyway, he'll never understand — and sits up, crossing his legs like a child. Dean eyes him for a second, then does the same.

"I get a phone call, right?" Dean asks.

Castiel nods. "Your constitutional right."

"What if I don't know his phone number?" Dean asks.

Castiel cocks his head to the side. "Do you know who you want to call?"

Dean just nods.

"Can I ask who it is?" Castiel tries again. He didn't think a guy like this would have many friends.

Dean hesitates, then shakes his head.

"If you give me a name, I'm sure I can call in a favor from Michael, get you his number," Castiel says.

"You would do that for me?"

Castiel shrugs. "Yeah, it won't cost me anything."

"But you don't like me," Dean says, confused. "I think?"

"I just want things to go smoothly," Castiel says. "You listen to me, and I'll do what I can to make things better for you. Sound like a deal?"

"Is there a catch?" Dean asks cautiously.

Castiel shakes his head. "You've already decided to turn yourself in, right? So you've already done your part. You just gotta keep cooperating."

"Okay," Dean says. "And once they take me in?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific with your question," Castiel says.

"Are you still going to be there?"

Castiel shakes his head. "I'm just a local cop now. This is as far as I go."

"Then can we just sit here for a while?" Dean asks. "One last conversation?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "I guess. Just wait until the SWAT team comes in?" At least, that's what he assuming will happen, but he's never been kidnapped by a serial killer while on duty before. He's not sure what exactly they do in this situation.

"Yeah," Dean says.

There's a pause, and they sit together in a surprisingly comfortable silence.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" Castiel asks.

Dean shrugs. "I don't know. Anything."

Castiel nods slowly, trying to think of some conversation starter. "So... do you have any family?"

Dean hesitates, then nods.

"What are they like?" Castiel asks.

"Not 'they,'" Dean says. "Just my brother."

"Well, what's your brother like?" Castiel asks.

Dean shrugs. "I don't really know. He ran off one day. Got a full ride to Stanford or something. I haven't spoken to him in years."

"Oh, that sucks," Castiel says sympathetically. He can't imagine not keeping in touch with his siblings. "Was he older than you?"

"Younger," Dean says.

"What was he like?" Castiel asks. "Back when you did talk to him?"

Dean shrugs. "Smart. Really smart. He was always gonna do great things. But he was always really nice, too. He didn't let it get to his head."

"He sounds great," Castiel says.

"He was," Dean says, a small smile on his face. "I don't know what he's up to now, but I'm sure it's something cool. Everything he does is."

"Is that who you're going to call?" Castiel asks.

"I think he'll probably hang up the second he hears my voice, but yeah."

"Does he know what you're been up to?"

Dean shakes his head. "I don't think I'm gonna tell him. I'm just gonna see if he'll talk to me, one last time."

"I hope so," Castiel says. But Dean's name and face are going to be all over the news pretty soon. Hopefully, his brother won't see any of that before he gets the phone call.

"I don't think he'd come visit me if he knew," Dean says. "I don't think anyone would. That's gonna kinda suck."

"You can make new friends there," Castiel says. "People who will probably kinda understand, or at least not really care what you've done."

"Maybe," Dean says. "It won't be the same, but maybe."

"I hope it turns out okay," Castiel says, which surprises himself. He was willing to promise the guy whatever it took to make sure everything went smoothly on the authorities' end, but he finds himself wanting things to work out for Dean, too.

"Thanks," Dean says quietly. "And it's nice to finally meet you, Cas. This is a lot nicer than talking on the phone."

Castiel smiles slightly. "Yeah, really. And, as much as I hate to admit it, it was nice to finally meet you, too."