There are a lot of people crowded around his desk when Castiel makes the call. It would almost seem like a party if it wasn't dead silent. Castiel looks over at his brother, who gives him a single nod.

He dials the number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

"Castiel?"

He flinches at that. He's never heard the man's voice before. He never had real confirmation it was a man at all. But here he is, on the other end of the phone. Five years, and he basically handed it over. And all it took was the constant knowledge that he could kill Castiel at any moment.

Castiel swallows hard. "It's me."

"Take me off speaker."

Without thinking, Castiel spits out a surprised, "What?"

"Take me off speaker."

He looks over at his brother, who shakes his head.

"You're not on speaker," Castiel lies.

"For your sake, I hope you're lying."

Castiel looks at Hannah helplessly. What's he supposed to do with that? Was it a threat? Why?

"Take me off speaker."

Castiel looks to Michael for advice, and he's shocked when his brother nods. Unfortunately, Castiel knows he has to do what he's told, so he turns speaker off and puts the phone to his ear.

"You're off speaker now."

"Really?"

"Yes," Castiel says. "It's just you and me."

"And are you recording this conversation?"

If he could ask Michael, he would, but he doesn't know what to say. The truth? Or would it be better to lie? He didn't think talking would be part of this job.

Finally, he says, "Would it matter either way?"

The Bloody Valentine chuckles. "No, I guess not. But for now, it's just you and me?"

Castiel has to fight the urge to shiver at that. "That would be correct."

"Awesome," he says, seeming much more lively than he did at first. "I've been trying to contact you for a while. There's just too much I want to talk about, and not enough blood in the human body to do it."

Castiel bites his tongue, fighting back a grossed out response.

"I have to say, I didn't appreciate you letting your brother call me instead," he says. "I don't care about him. He does nothing but lie."

"About?" Castiel asks.

"Everything," he says. "The press knows nothing. He tells them nothing. He keeps pretending you're getting close. I think it's about time to admit you're not going to catch me."

"I can't do that," Castiel replies.

He sighs dramatically. "I know, but it was a nice thought."

"Where are you?" Castiel asks.

"Oh, don't bother," he says. "I know your boys are tracing the call as we speak. That's okay. I'll be out of here soon."

Castiel looks to his brother and shakes his head. Nothing important there. Michael looks disappointed, but it shouldn't be a surprise.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asks.

"Talking," he replies. "Obviously."

"What were you doing before I called?" Castiel tries again.

"Waiting," he replies. "I was almost starting to think you weren't gonna come through. But I should've known better. You never disappoint."

Castiel isn't sure how to answer that, so he changes the subject.

"What's your name?"

"Well, I'm just your favorite little killer," he says. "That's all you need to know."

Castiel shakes his head to his brother again.

"Why did you ask me to call you?"

"Right, I actually have some questions for you," he says. "I heard a rather disturbing rumor recently."

"And what's that?" Castiel asks.

"That you've been replaced," he says. "Tell me it's not true."

Castiel leans back in his seat, thinking about this. He calls it a rumor, but there's no way he should have this information at all. It's hard to think he might not know it's true. It sounds like a test, and without Michael to tell him what to say, he goes with what he thinks he should say.

"You're correct."

The Bloody Valentine scoffs. "You're joking. Five years of this, and you're gone, just like that?"

"It would appear so," Castiel says.

"Well, that's not fair."

Tell me about it.

"Well, if you're not playing the game, neither am I," he says. "I'm not gonna leave cute little notes. Just kill to kill to kill. It'll probably be quicker this way, anyway — less fun, but quicker. More bodies to drop."

Castiel puts his head in his hands for a moment, thinking this through. What does he do with that? He can't put himself on the case, but there's no way in hell he's telling the guy to keep killing people.

Finally, he says, "I know what you're trying to do, and you're taking it up with the wrong person."

"What?"

"You're trying to get me back on your case?" Castiel guesses. "Threatening to kill more people if I'm not?"

Michael glares at him after the first sentence, but after the second, he looks confused, and maybe a bit concerned. Castiel just shrugs. It's not his fault Michael can't hear what's happening. Although he did decide to antagonize him like that on purpose, but Michael doesn't need to know.

"I didn't realize I was that transparent," he remarks. "Did it work?"

"I told you, wrong person to ask," Castiel says. "I didn't fire myself."

"Castiel!" Michael hisses.

Castiel just gestures for him to shut up.

"Then who do I talk to?" he asks.

"Why do you care?" Castiel counters.

"Because I like you," he says simply. "You make things interesting."

Castiel doesn't know how to respond to that. Michael sure as hell isn't going to let him back after this. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

But now that he has, he's out of chances, so he might as well keep asking questions Michael won't want the answer to. "What do you mean, you like me? You've don't know me. You've never met me — not even close."

Castiel risks a glance at Michael, who's tapping his fingers along the edge of the desk nervously. This isn't what he wanted to hear; Castiel knows that. And without the other side of the conversation, he can't imagine how bad this sounds.

"You got close once," he says. "A couple weeks ago. I told you that. So I looked into you, and it took a lot of digging, but I figured out who you are."

"And what do you plan to do with that information?" Castiel asks, and though he knows he should be his own first priority, he finds himself asking it for Michael's sake more than his own. As long as it shuts Michael up, it's all good.

"I don't know yet," he says.

Castiel feels a sinking feeling in his stomach. There's not a single answer that would have made him less nervous. As if the uncertainty wasn't bad enough, he had to add the "yet," which means he's going to do something with it eventually. He just doesn't know what.

"But don't worry," he adds. *I don't want to hurt you. I — and there they are."

"What?"

"Sirens," he says. "It took them long enough. I'll drop a new number next time."

"But —"

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Since you called, I'll give it another week, just for you."

"But —"

"And if you don't call me, I'll start dropping bodies every day 'til you do."

"Wait —"

"Talk to you later, Cas," he interrupts. "Different day, different city, different phone."

Click

And it's over.