"He's doing this on purpose," Michael says. "He wants you. He's watching you. You come back, you're falling right into his trap."

"Does it matter?" Castiel asks. "What's the worst he could do? Kill me?"

"He could do worse than that," Michael says.

"Yeah, worse. Like killing more people than ever before out of spite.

"You piss off a serial killer —"

"He'll, what, kill me? Kidnap me? Torture me? That's fine," Castiel says. "Because if I don't go after him, more people will die, and civilians are not bargaining chips. We can't risk them on a maybe."

Michael looks at him for a moment, then sighs. "You're right. You're..." He puts a hand to his forehead, almost as if he has a migraine. "God, I hate this."

"I know you do," Castiel says. "But you know what? He likes me. For now, at least, he likes me, and he likes the game. He'll talk to me. I might be our way in, and we can get him off the streets for good."

"Yeah, maybe," Michael says. "Or maybe when we get too close, he'll kill you. That's not a risk I want to take."

"But it's a risk you have to take," Castiel says.

Michael sighs and takes his hand away from his face. "I know. We don't have much of a choice. That doesn't make it any easier."

"Don't worry too much," Castiel says. "I'll be fine. I always am."