29. Nosin' Around

We're introduced to an angel named Ezra. He looks like a bit of a lowlife on appearances alone. I know what Dean wants to do with this guy, but I'm more for what Sam is probably thinking. Interrogation through words, not an angel blade.

For now, no weapons are out. It's just my brothers and I against a trapped angel.

"You're wasting your time," Ezra snaps. "I have nothing to say."

"We disagree," says Dean.

"There's no use torturing me. I am a trained commando. It won't work."

"Wow. Well, you just asked me to dance."

"Dean!" I say hurriedly. "Dean! He won't be telling us anything dead. Besides, you know, I'm—I'm really starting to realize that he probably doesn't know anything. I mean, do the math. Ezra here is one of Metatron's elite posse? Really? One of Metatron's most trusted is, uh—is hanging out at bars, blabbing about the boss. Does that make any sense?"

We'd been given a rundown as to how Ezra had been found. Apparently, he was openly talking about Metatron. Elite posse my ass. But I'm also doing this to try and turn the odds into our favor.

"Well, only if Metatron is purposely surrounding himself with losers," says Dean.

"Exactly!" Sam adds. "Right? What's this guy even doing here?"

"He's a wannabe. I mean, if he was a key player, he would be up in Heaven with Metatron where all the action is."

"Exactly," I voice.

"What if I'm a decoy?" says Ezra. "Or in deep cover?"

I cough. "I-it's pathetic."

"Mm, probably hasn't even been to Heaven, not since the fall," Dean says.

"Of course not!" Sam adds.

"Yes, I have," Ezra insists.

"Buddy, the gates are sealed. No one can get in."

"Who said anything about gates? You don't need gates when you have a private portal."

"Right. If there was a doorway on Earth, the angels would've sensed it."

"Yeah, you can't hide something like that," Dean agrees.

"You can if it moves around from place to place, if it's wherever the boss wants it to be," Ezra explains.

I'm really suppressing a big smile. This guy is a chump, easily manipulated by words. I'm just glad my brothers went along with what I was trying to do. Even though we've hardly caught up, we've found something of a rhythm again.

"I see," I say slowly. "I got it. So, you heard a rumor about Metatron's 'secret portal', and you decided to run with it."

"It's not a rumor," Ezra insists. "He showed me."

"I get it," Dean says. "He's a fan."

"A fan," Sam agrees. "Yeah."

"You're a fan," I say. "Just 'cause you're hot for Metatron...or Bieber or Beckham...Just 'cause you know everything about them doesn't mean that you actually know them."

"Or that they even know you exist."

"Ooh, that's cold, Sammy."

"I'm just sayin'."

"I was interviewed personally by Metatron for a key post," Ezra says, clearly bothered now.

"Yeah? Oh, wow. Well, then—then maybe you can tell me why you weren't at your key post and you were hanging down here instead."

"Mm," Dean says. "Now, that blows. He got passed over."

"I-I was a finalist," Ezra protests.

"Oh, man," I say dramatically. "To get so close and then get kicked downstairs. It sucks to be you."

"Hardly anybody was chosen! And ground forces is still a very important assignment. It was an honor to have even been considered for the squad."

"What 'squad'?" Dean asks. "There is no squad."

"Yeah, says you," Ezra scoffs. "It's a highly guarded secret."

"Oh. And what you be doing, exactly? No?"

"Wait a second," Sam cuts in. "Just, please, uh...Clarify this for me. You desperately wanted this job, but you didn't know what it was?"

"Well," says Ezra, "until you were chosen, the exact nature of the mission was kept a secret."

"Wow," I say. "Wow."

"And...Hardly anyone was chosen."

On that rather confusing note, my brothers and I step out of the room.

"Dim bulb," says Dean. "No wonder he got bumped."

"Yeah," says Sam. "'Ground forces'? 'Elite secret squad'? What's Metatron gearing up for?"

"I don't know—why don't we shove somebody through the back door of Heaven and find out. Oh, wait. No. It's portable and can't be found."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a slight headache coming on. The three of us head back to Cas's office in the command center. I can't help but wander a little, looking at all the technology. The bunker certainly isn't this advanced. At least, it's not to my knowledge. I haven't had enough time to get lost and map out the entirety of the place. One of these days, I will. I haven't in the recent days because I've been focused on training with my batons.

"I assume you weren't on the case with them?"

I turn my head to see Cas in my peripheral. "Nope, I sidelined myself."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Cas. I just wanted some time to myself. You've been busy lately."

"Yes, I have been."

"How's it feel, to be the leader of all this?" I gesture to the command center.

"It's a bit overwhelming at times, but they needed a leader."

I nod. "I guess if anyone were to fit the bill, it would be you, Cas. Guess I haven't been around long enough to see a leader in you."

"For that, you should be grateful."

I eye Cas suspiciously. His tone suggests that something happened in my absence from my brothers. I'm tempted to ask, but for now I leave the issue alone. I think he'll tell me eventually if I don't pressure him to before then.

"Sir," comes a voice.

Cas and I turn to see a rather frazzled female angel.

"It's Ezra, sir, he's dead."

Cas and I look at each other, shock written on our faces. My brothers hear the news too, because they're with us in a heartbeat.

"Did he escape?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "No, he was still bound to the chair when I went to check in on him." For some reason, her eyes stray over me and then at my brothers. I know what she's thinking, is it possible they did this? But she would be wrong. None of us touched him when we were in that room with him.

"Are you suggesting it was suicide?"

She half-shrugs. "As impossible as it may sound given the circumstance, it might be possible. It's hard to say. I just found him, that's all."

"No weapon at the scene?"

"All I saw was him, no weapon."

"We'll take care of this issue, thank you," I say firmly.

The angel looks at me strangely still, then looks to Cas for guidance. He dismisses her with a nod, leaving my brothers, myself, and Cas to gather in a tighter circle.

"It's unbelievable," Sam murmurs. "I mean, he was fine when we left him."

"I barely touched the guy," says Dean.

"Still shackled, no weapon," I recount the details. "It wasn't suicide."

"No," Cas agrees. "This was an angel kill."

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna say it," Dean says. "Maybe your operation's been hacked. You know, Metatron's got somebody on the inside."

"I was sure everyone here was loyal. Finally united by a common cause."

"Well, that's the problem. See, you don't think anybody's lying. I think everybody's lying. It's a gift." Dean looks at Sam and me. "Let's do some nosin' around."

Dean and I head on as Sam gets called back by Cas.

"He's got so much going on, it probably wasn't hard to let a mole slip through the cracks," I tell Dean. "He can't do everything."

"Being a leader has its flaws, Jo."

"So, what are we 'nosin' around' for?"

"Try to get a feel of his staff, see if anyone's worth taking a second glance at."

"Well, I guess I should leave that to you, since you claim to be a lie detector."

We go through a majority of Cas's angels, not really talking to them as much as observing them. Watching for any tells that would suggest they're Metatron's mole. Dean talks to a few of the angels here and there, I'm the silent one who focuses on everything else.

With no such luck in narrowing down our suspects, Dean and I return to the command center. While Dean goes and does his thing of brooding silently in the chair, I tell Sam what we've found.

"Absolutely squat," I tell him. "It's hard to pick out a spy in here. Dean's lie detecting skills are either rusty or Metatron's mole is just that good."

"We'll find them."

"What if he's got more than one?" I consider.

"That's even worse."

Dean's phone starts buzzing, and it's like Sam and I are the only ones alerted to the noise.

"Dean," I say. He doesn't answer, he's off in his own little world. "Dean." Again, nothing. I groan. "Dean." Finally, he looks at me. "What's wrong with you? You hear your phone?"

Realizing that his phone's going off, Dean stands up and answers it. Sam and I watch him intently, and I try to pick up on the words said on the other end.

"It's about time," Dean says into the phone. Why do I think I know who that is? My assumption is Crowley. "Where the hell have you been?" I can hear the low voice and just pick out the accent. "Where are you?"

I can't make out any words, and I know Sam can't either.

"Well?" Sam presses when the call ends.

"Crowley," Dean tells us. "He's got a location on Abaddon."

"That's good, isn't it?" I ask carefully, looking between my brothers. "We can finally take her out. One problem done with."

"We gotta go get the Blade first."

"Well, Crowley had it last, so...Where's he hiding it?"

* * *

I gag the moment the coffin gets pried open. Yes, Crowley has hidden the First Blade in a cemetery, in a corpse. Believe me, I would lie about it, but I can't.

The fact that it's night outside makes the find ten times worse. I feel like we're disrespecting the dead whose poor body is used to house the First Blade.

"Oh!" Sam says in disgust. "Come on, Crowley! You really, uh, have to hide the Blade in a corpse? Not—not with a corpse but in a corpse?"

"I got to say, it's not the first place I'd look," Dean admits. "All right, here we go."

Before Dean can even dive his hand inside, we all hear it: the growling. My head snaps up, but I don't see any dogs anywhere. It sounds distant.

"Guys," I say. "Do you hear that?"

"I'm guessing Hellhound."

"Hellhound?"

This time, we hear a low growl. This time, it's closer.

"Go. Go!"

We bolt from the corpse, apparently running from nothing. Where's this hound? We find the closest cover we can find: a gate. We shove ourselves behind it, and I jump back as some invisible force crashes into the gate. It doesn't budge, but the impact sends my heart running like crazy.

"What the hell?" I gasp.

"Just don't go near the gate!" Dean tells me. He's dialing someone, most likely Crowley. "Damn it, Crowley, the grave is guarded!"

"Did he send us into a trap?!" I screech.

"A Hellhound!" Dean bellows into the phone, completely ignoring me. "The hell she was!"

"Guys!" Sam says.

"I'm gonna put you on speaker!" Dean takes the phone away from his face and puts it on speaker.

"Juliet?" comes Crowley's voice. "It's Papa. Stand down."

I hear the whine, and the gate-crashing has stopped. I still don't see anything, but I have to assume "Juliet" obeyed her master's command.

"You're welcome."

Dean ends the call, and we head back to the corpse. I'm shaking a little bit.

"What was that?" I whisper.

"Hellhound," Sam tells me. "You don't want one of those catching your scent."

We're back at the open coffin. Dean is still volunteering to go cadaver diving.

"All right," he says bravely. "Goin' in."

"Hey, you know what?" Sam says. "Maybe, uh...Maybe I should do this."

"You know I'm not volunteering," I say through a covered mouth.

"Sam, it's fine," Dean assures our brother. "I—I-I can safely grab it without...you know..."

Ah, so that's why Sam wants to do it. I remember Dean's animosity with the Blade in hand. It was just a peek, and it was the only peek that I wanted to see of him under the Mark's influence.

Sam reaches into the corpse, disgust twisting his features. I look away but can hear his arm digging around in there. Once I don't hear any movement, I turn my head. Sam has the First Blade.

"Well," says Dean, "let's go kill a Knight of Hell, huh?"