"We have a problem."

Castiel looks up from his desk to glare at his brother. "And what would that be?"

Michael sighs. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Put me back on the case and I will."

Michael shakes his head at him, annoyed. "What if I just gave you an update and asked for a favor, instead?"

Castiel cocks his head to the side, interested. "What's going on?"

"There have been two more crime scenes this week," Michael says. "Each with a message on the wall."

"What did he say?" Castiel asks. "I'm assuming that's why you're here?"

"He asked for you."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Okay, and? That's four crime scenes in a row that he asked for me. You can't say it still shocks you."

"No, I mean he asked to talk to you," Michael says. "Person to person, over the phone."

Castiel scoffs, a grin creeping up on his face. "Well, that's great! I can talk to him, trace the call, and catch him."

"Well, I'm not too sure about that," Michael says. "The first time he asked for you, I called him instead. He was at an airport. By the time we got there, he was long gone."

"Well, what about the phone now?" Castiel asks. "Where is it?"

"We found it in the trash by the airport door," Michael says. "The prints matched every other pair we've found so far. They just haven't been matched to a name."

Castiel nods slowly, processing this. This guy is smart. It's impossible to deny it. Any rookie mistakes he used to make are long gone. But there's no such thing as the perfect crime. Castiel will catch him. He just has to figure out how he thinks, because this isn't his normal. Not at all.

But Castiel knows what is his normal, and maybe that's what they need.

"When you called him, how long ago was it after the murder?"

"Almost a day," Michael says. "Not long after we found it. Why?"

"Where was the crime scene?"

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota," Michael says, confused.

"And where did you track the phone to?" Castiel asks.

"Same place, the local airport a few minutes away."

Castiel nods. "That's it. That's the problem. He had already killed there. He wasn't gonna strike again, not when he knows you were on his trail."

"Well, what do you want to do?" Michael asks. "We can't track him in advance."

"But you can get to him when he makes it to his new destination," Castiel says. "Give it a few days — I'd say three, probably. If he was at the airport, he was waiting for you. He gave you the number, right?"

Michael nods. "Just that and 'Cas, call me.'"

"He wouldn't give you his number — a huge first for him — and then take a plane, where there's no reception. He wanted you to think he was going somewhere, but he wasn't. Not when he didn't know when you'd call and when to book his flight to get away."

"Well, he's not still there," Michael says. "He struck again, down in Texas."

"Wait, back up," Castiel says. "You called him, right? What did he say?"

"Nothing," Michael says. "He knew it wasn't you, so he hung up. Wouldn't pick up when I called back."

"How did he...?"

"He said he 'recognized the voice,'" Michael says, putting air quotes around the latter half of the sentence. "Which means he would know if it wasn't you."

"Well, it doesn't matter now," Castiel says. "He ditched the phone."

"And then he got a new one."

Castiel scoffs. "He did what?"

Michael nods. "Said it was our last chance. Take a look."

Michael slides a photo across the desk. Castiel picks it up, recognizing it immediately as a crime scene. He looks around first, taking it in, before reading the note.

"Come on, Cas. I know you're there. I saw you a couple weeks ago. I'll try this one more time, and if it's not you, I'm done trying to reach you. Good luck finding me like that."

All Castiel can think to say is, "Wow."

"Mm," Michael hums.

"So, what, want me to make the call?" Castiel asks.

Michael nods. "It'll be on speaker the whole time. You try to get him to talk, we'll take it from there."

"So I'm still not on the case?" Castiel asks. "Even after he asked for me, after you decided you need me here —"

"We need you for five minutes," Michael interrupts. "After that, you're out."

"But —"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Michael interrupts. "There is a serial killer looking for you — you specifically. How do you think this is gonna end? This isn't just me being paranoid. This guy is out for blood, and he knows your name, your face, your voice. This isn't something to mess with, Castiel. I'm just praying it's not too late."

Castiel doesn't answer for a moment. Michael's right; he knows Michael's right. But shouldn't he still get the chance to decide for himself?