#assassin!dean

Summary: Unpresented was who Castiel was. It let him do his job, let him see things, hear things that normal people couldn’t, so caught up in the magical world of scents. It allowed him to ignore distractions that preoccupied other agents. It made suspicious eyes glaze over him with only a momentary twinge of pity.

Dean stepped out of the elevator and made his way to Michael's suite. Calling it an office was almost insulting. The secretary was gone for her lunch break, which meant this was probably a secondary work assignment. If the worst happened and Dean got caught somehow, it wouldn't do for there to be a witness that saw Dean go into Michael's office like this.

Killing witnesses was unsavory to the Novak's. That made them different from every other one of Dean's previous employers, and he found himself liking it.

The door was unlocked, so Dean slipped inside quietly. Michael was moaning into a cheeseburger, another man sitting across from him at his desk. His eyes lit up when he saw Dean, the other man turning to look at him. Dark hair, strong jaw, sharp eyes.

Dean smirked. "This a brother, Mike?"

The other man stood and offered his hand to Dean. "Hello, Dean, my name is Castiel. My brother's been telling me about you."

He entered the bedroom as Dean's dom, collected and completely put together, calm, even though he wanted to grab the man at his neck again and throw him into something for being dumb enough to take Castiel for a fool. Instead he tossed the well used pair of handcuffs at the naked figure kneeling next to the bed, watches him catch them single-handed. There was a short, slightly confused glance upwards that made Castiel's eyes harden as he nodded a single time. Dean scrambled to is feet, a second later he was on the bed, fumbling to wrap the cuffs around the bar at the headboard, clicking them shut around both wrists. Eager, but it didn't impress Castiel anymore, he didn't let it impress him, even as a familiar warmth floods his chest.

Now was not the time for pride. It was time to take out his gun and set it down on the bedside table, a silent threat, a stern warning. Dean's gaze shot up again, this time not just slightly confused, but Castiel ignored it as he settled down on the bed right next to his sub, not touching him. Just waiting a few moment until the realization hit that this was not a scene by all means.

"Cas, what's the-" "Your assignment's still active. You are still active." A few minutes of silence again until Dean's brows twitched and he groaned. "Course I am! Told them I'd try and infiltrate your circle, find out who you're working with, where your hideouts are. Needed more time after our first encounter, more time and a heart still beatin' to get near you! You think I wanted them after me, too?" "I guess you expect me to believe you..." His answer was immediate and he got up slowly, reached for the gun, not intending to kill Dean right away. There was more to this, to him and that brother of his who'd vanished from the archives. However the situation at hand needed to be dealt with and he wasn't yet sure what exactly the right course of action would be.

"For the record: I don't. Not a word. I think you've lied to me all this time. They'd never let someone who failed their job as miserably as you did work on something the like. You've been set up for this from the start, am I right? Oh you're good, so much better than you acted the first time we met. Of course, part of the plan. Should've just killed you right in that alley."

Castiel started pacing, the gun clutched tightly at his side to keep his fingers from trembling. "I also think there's no Sam Winchester. You wanted to lead me right into a trap, correct? But why not just - ohhh." Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to look at Dean, still naked and chained to the bed, intently listening to the words of his almost-partner, blinking lazily. "They don't want me dead."

For a second he just stared at the other man, thoughts racing. Then he stormed out of the bedroom, threw the door shut behind him, ignored the voice calling "Wait Cas, I can ... Cas, where're you going?" The number was dialed as soon as he held the phone in his hand. Four or five times the free-line signal beeped, made him more and more nervous each time until he was pacing again, up and down the short corridor, then into the living room where he threw the gun aside and pulled the laptop out.

"Cassie, what's the matter?", Balthazar sounded surprised and a little worried, never getting called by his cousin in the evenings. "They know about the chip. Dean's set up to infiltrate my circle and lure me into a trap, they don't want me dead, they want the chip back." Cramming the small phone between ear and shoulder he logged onto his computer and opened a program. "Wait, slow down. First: Told you he's a bastard. Second: What chip?" With just a few hot keys a list was loading, consisting of ten names with matching e-mail addresses, Gabriel, Meg and Balthazar among them. He pressed enter, sending ten identical e-mails out to the people on his list, e-mails written while he'd done his last big job, the one that earned him ten million dollars. E-mails to let his former partners know something crucial had come up.

It has only been three days when he got an e-mail from Samandriel. At least he thought it was from the hacker, not signed or any indication who might have sent it, but the words were so carefully chosen and stiff, there was no other person to reach him that way who sounded like they hyperventilated while typing a message. It was short, just a time and server he should break into, not the ones they agreed to share the gathered information on. Besides he'd given the boy five whole days, not just three and he knew the hacker did his work thoroughly. Maybe something had come up.

At seven o'clock that evening he opened the laptop he'd tucked away safely in the storeroom of the apartment. It was a habit to leave old but working computers and laptops in some of his apartments for when he might need them and today it seemed like his habit payed off once again. Dean was probably already kneeling in the bedroom when Castiel got ready to break through the firewall of the server and whatever security measures might lie after that and for a brief moment he wanted to leave the living room and join his dutiful sub. However this could be very important and he tended to address upcoming issues as soon as possible before giving in to his more carnal needs. Breaking into the server took him the better part of twenty minutes and he was actually slightly impressed when the screen flashed white except for elegantly curved letters appearing at the very bottom.

- This is Samadriel. I'm glad you could make it. Please do not worry about the accessibility to our conversation through any third party, I have taken care of everything. After we have finished here I will erase this server and any trace of our discussion with it.

He'd had guessed right after all, who would ask him to break into a server to exchange the current status but cute, blushing Samandriel. It was almost like he could read the trembling of those delicate fingers as clear as the words.

- Before we get started please confirm your identity by answering the following question: The very first time we worked together I asked you a favor. What was it?

Castiel smiled fondly when remembering their first encounter. At that time he'd been working for a big fish, industrial espionage, after that job he'd quit that line of work and began doing things his own way. Fingers already lying on the keyboard he began typing.

- After the job was finished you asked for a photograph, not of my face but my hands. You got it. Even though I got the impression what you really wanted was to be my sub for a night.

The sentence just appeared on the screen, the memory pulling the little detail with it to the surface and he liked the picture suddenly flashing in his head way too much to not hit send. The boy had blushed so prettily, stuttered, played with his fingers when he asked for that photograph, claimed he knew how awful it sounded and swore he'd never show it to anyone and Castiel had believed him in an instant. He'd given in to the boy's pleas because he'd simply seen no reason not to. What harm, could a photograph of hands do? And if the little hacker wanted to jerk off to it, imagine them wrapped around his slender neck, he saw no problem with it.

- I have not asked you to contact me so we can surround ourselves with old stories and assumptions.

So that was a yes then. Interesting. Until now Castiel was under the impression it had only been his set of mind that made the leap to Samandriel as a pretty sub. That boy sure would do great and whoever was allowed to give him what he needed was a lucky man. Or woman.

- You have confirmed your identity. Let us get to business.

- Sure.

- I have searched their every data base, public, protected, secret. There is nothing on either a Samuel, Sam or Sammy Winchester. Well, almost nothing. I found Sam Winchester listed under the apprentices of an instructor going by the name Ruby. After that the trail went cold, no further references to him.

What a curious turn of events. Typically the corporation was very strict and had a conservative way to archive all of their personnel, actions and any kind of business. Even the illegal ones. Finding nothing but a single listing of a name was more than unusual. Either Dean had lied to him or there was something the corporation wanted more than anything to hide...

- However I found several entries on Dean Winchester. Mostly normal assignments, racketeering and the like. But did you know he was sent to kill you?

- Yes, I am aware of that.

- The assignment is still listed as active and you know they keep the archive up to date and how they proceed with traitors, so you might want to have a word with your partner.

Few days later Castiel made four short calls, using three different mobile phones he bought in different shops and burned the SIM cards immediately after hanging up the last time.

Speaking with Gabriel didn't serve real purpose other than let him know his younger brother might have to step up a little bit, leave his ambushes and take care of some business. This call was too inform him it might get a little hairy and if he saw something about Castiel on the news, it didn't have to be because someone fucked up badly. Some help to get him back into hiding afterward, when everything had gone according to plan, would be greatly appreciated and was offered only a heartbeat before he had to explicitly ask for it.

The next man Castiel called was Samandriel, barely a man at all, blushing, freckled IT-boy at day, genius hacker at night or so they said. They hadn't spoken for ages and the boy sounded antsy and completely starstruck, still remembering that one time they worked together and Castiel had saved his cute ass with sheer luck and some willpower to match it. Samandriel would break into the corporation's network for him and find out any information they had on Samuel, Sam or maybe even Sammy Winchester, so they had something to work with when getting to make a plan that was worth sticking to. In addition, the IT-boy/genius hacker would get Castiel everything that could be found on Dean Winchester. Soon they'd no longer just have an affair but work together and Castiel liked to know everything there was to know about his partners, no matter how short the period of time he'd spend with them. Dean practically lived with him so maybe he'd better start getting his information together now. Samandriel stuttered a few confirmations and gave him a web address and exact time Castiel could break into the connection to download all the information he'd need, then the boy wished him luck, gave him three other numbers to call if something didn't work out and just hung up on Castiel, as he wanted to thank him for his help.

Balthazar was the third on his list. The conman obviously wasn't expecting his cousin to call so soon after their last encounter, a female voice mumbling something sweetly in the background and the rustling of sheets as she was assured with a soft voice that she wouldn't have to wait for long. When Castiel told him about his plan, all he got for a whole lot of five minutes was exasperated laughter and the sound of two doors closing. However he was having none of it and asked for another meeting in a week, to get over the rough draft of the plan and maybe work the information Samandriel should've gotten until then through, both on Sam and on Dean. Of course Balthazar agreed. After his last and until now considered final strike against the corporation Castiel hadn't even attempted to piss anyone off as badly as he planned to do now and his cousin wouldn't miss his chance of a front row seat. Their meeting would also determine whether something happened at all or if the risk was too great. Maybe Samandriel would find something on Dean and they'd have to kill him together - even though Castiel could do so very well on his own but knew Balthazar wouldn't let that opportunity slip either. So they soon had a time and date set, until then Balthazar would talk to a few more people and find out about the overall situation at hand.

The last name on his list was the last for no other reason than his utter resistance to call at all. Meg Masters had worked at the corporation for the better part of her life and knew it like no other employee ever would, including schedules of any kind and top secret information she had no business with at all. She was the one that helped him escape after his last intrusion and having her on their side was a better life policy than the help of Gabriel, Samandriel and Balthazar combined. However she would also want something in return and whatever it was, Castiel would be a lot more reluctant to give it to her than he had been calling her in the first place. There was no sign of surprise in her voice, only sweetness, as he outlined his intention as roughly as possible while giving her the best idea she needed to be a convenient ally. Of course she didn't tell him what she'd ask for once this job was done, she never did right away, only agreed and gave him two new ways to contact her as soon as the plan was set so they could arrange the details of her part.

When Castiel entered the bedroom of one of his fancier apartments in this part of town that night, Dean was already kneeling next to the bed, his head bowed nicely, the faintest smile on his lips. He knew what Castiel was willing to do for him by now and he took pride in it, rather than let it fuel arrogance and a reason to be smug. He'd be at his best tonight, he'd make Castiel proud. And Castiel wanted to be made proud after all.

Four days ago they'd left Atlanta in another stolen car and switched twice on their way to Washington, the first a new Mercedes, rather conspicuous, that Castiel kept for about half the way, the second and third older again, low-key.

His encounter with Balthazar went according to plan, they'd met up in a bar neither of them ever went to before, talked for about an hour and agreed on New York as the next meeting point, in a month, late august.

Dean had become more and more quiet on the trip. Where he'd asked questions about Castiel's approach of several difficulties they had to overcome, his past, his motives, his everything, he was silent but fast and efficient. Deadly even, that one time the cashier at the gas station had recognized Castiel and reached for the panic button. Before the elder could even draw his gun she fell backwards against the shelves behind the counter, a knife embedded in her chest. Within seconds Dean had rounded the counter, pulled the knife he'd thrown with impressing accuracy out of her ribcage and dragged her over to the supply closet he locked from the outside using her key, sliding it into his pocket afterwards. They left when he'd deleted the security footage, with a dispraising "I don't approve of violence if not strictly neccessary", from Castiel and a proud grin on Dean's face.

The sudden professionalism hadn't surprised him at all, he'd come to the conclusion that the boy had much more to offer than he'd ever shown, weeks ago. This evening, he would get a few long due answers. He took Dean out to a bar. Of course not just to show him a good time, have a few drinks and laughs and go back to the apartment come time for some casual sex - scening while intoxicated was never a good idea.

No, he wanted to teach him a lesson in knowledge of human nature, a reward for his appropriate behavior on their journey here. What was a better reward than something Dean craved every second they spend together, some snippet of Castiel's expertise? So he took him to a bar, sat them down in the far corner and began to talk, expecting no disruption. "Let us start adequate to the things I have told you so far. Remember the last time we went to the city and I asked you to observe the people around you. Remember how important it is to be aware of your surroundings at all times. Remember what I told you about causes of defect, how to detect them and avoid any distractions. Now take a look at the bartender and tell me what type he is. Only watch him for as long as I say, you never have much time. Stop."

Dean averted his gaze from the man behind the bar, currently talking with a rather inebriated woman. "He's in charge of this place, there's nothing going down here he doesn't know about and man, there are things going down here I tell you. He's watching the door, possibly waiting for someone but also pretends not to so maybe it's - "

He stops mid sentence and jumps to his feet, throwing himself at a man that's come gradually closer to their table since they arrived. Castiel had been aware of him but seen no reason to intervene until now that he suddenly pulled a gun from somewhere under his coat. Dean was faster though, knocking him to the ground with a heavy swing of his fist, the knife he used to kill the cashier clutched in his other hand. As soon as the gun hit the floor he kicked it back to Castiel who picked it up and shoved it into the deep pocket of his coat, watched by every pair of eyes currently occupying the room that had went from filled with conversations to dead silence in a matter of seconds. The fact that no one screamed or panicked said enough about this establishment.

Falling down to his knees Dean straddled the attacker's chest and pressed the sharp blade against his throat, causing a few drops of blood to spill. "Who sent you?", the growl was deep and animalistic, sending a pleasant chill down Castiel's spine as he watched the scene unfold with interest. A pained groan, a sharp blow to the face with his free hand, then a second time: "Who sent you?" The attacker had the audacity to grin and sputter a few unintelligible words, but no names. "You disgusting piece of scum better talk or I'll make you wish - "

That was enough. There was no doubt who'd sent the man, only one of his enemies was desperate enough to hire someone who'd do their job this poorly, in the middle of a crowded bar. Castiel stepped up, grabbed Dean's neck and pulled him up and out of the bar. They rounded a few corners, his hand remaining where it was, forcing Dean to stumble along next to him, spitting a string of curses and trying to wriggle out of his grip until he threw the boy roughly against a brick wall.

"Who are you really and what do you want from me?" He was sick of this game, sick of Dean pretending to be some poor lost boy looking for advice. They'd played long enough and now was time for some answers. "I will not ask again", he warned in a low voice, knowing what effect if had on the other man who still held the knife loosely in his hand but showed no signs of wanting to use it against him.

"Okay, I'll talk. But let me go." Castiel complied, well knowing it had no bad consequences for him. Dean actually put the knife away, not before wiping the blood off on his jeans, and took a deep breath.

"It's the same guys that're after you, some complicated bullshit I got myself into. Worked for them a few months. Point is, now they got my brother. I don't know where he is but have to get him out of there. Figured having you on my side might not hurt." It was a veiled plea for help, Dean's love for that brother of his clearly visible in his eyes even as he avoided looking at Castiel.

He did not yet know what to do with this plea, whether to agree to help him or kick him out to take care of this on his own. He moved in for a kiss nonetheless, drawn by that look in the man's eyes and in a way, there was already an answer in the manner their lips moved against each other, almost gentle, almost something near loving, assuring, almost a promise.