John Winchester was the last person anyone would have expected to own a chocolate factory. Rough, tough, and constantly itching for action, he looked more the type to own a garage, or hunter’s lounge, or a bar. Hell, even a gas station was more likely career path.
Which made sense since opening a chocolate company had not been his idea to begin with. It was his wife Mary who had come up with that particular brainchild. She had even chosen the name: The Angelic Company, complete with a little chocolate angel which became the company's official logo. Mary loved chocolate. Milk, dark, semi-sweet, or bitter, it didn’t matter. If it was chocolate, then she absolutely adored it.
The company had started out as a last ditch effort to secure a source of income. John had been home from service in Vietnam for nearly year and had not managed to find a permanent job. Mary had been eight months pregnant, due any week. They were months behind on the mortgage. Their emergency funds were nearly out. Neither had any family they were willing to ask for help. In short, they were desperate.
Then Mary uncovered a few recipes for making chocolate amongst the junk left to her in the Campbell Family attic. And then her uncle turned up with an vacant little shop that he was selling cheap. Armed with a couple of community college business courses and a whole lot of desperation, the two dipped into the last of their funds and set out to make chocolate.
To this day, John has no idea how they actually managed it but slowly, a few people started buying their chocolate. And then more people started buying. And then, even more.
The day his first son, Dean Winchester, was born was also the day Angelic Company got its first big order. If John had to choose, then it was that order that decided that Angelic Company was no longer just a last ditch attempt to stay off the streets. It was a set deal. Four years later, when Sammy was born, Angelic Company was a proper little chocolate factory. Everything was perfect.
Then Mary died.
John dealt with the loss the only way he could. He threw himself into The Angelic Company. It became his obsession. Mary had loved the little factory and for her, he would make sure that the Angelic Company stayed in business for a long, long time.
Before he knew it, his kids were all grown up and the Angelic Company was a household name. Well, in most of the Midwest at least, and some parts of China. But they shipped chocolate all around the world and they had nearly a hundred different flavors. Not to mention that the little factory had expanded into several huge ones, though the main headquarters stayed in Lawrence, Kansas. It was everything Mary had dreamed of but never got to see.
Now however, John was ready to take a break. A nice long vacation, preferably someplace that allowed hunting. He figured he deserved it after devoting so many years to the company. Unfortunately, neither of his sons had much interest in taking over the family business.
Sam had made it clear very early on that he preferred law over chocolate which was unfortunate as the boy had a real head for business. On the other hand, Dean liked chocolate almost as much as Mary had and cared about the company almost as much as John did. A couple of years ago, John had been certain that he’d be able to pass AC onto Dean soon. Then Bobby went and landed himself in a wheelchair. Dean had headed over to South Dakota to help out at the garage until Bobby adjusted and had just ended up staying.
Nonetheless, John Winchester forked over nearly three decades of his life working at that damn factory. It was about time that he took some time off and he was going to get it even if he had to drag his sons back to the family business, kicking and screaming.
Sam Winchester sighed and glanced at the clock for what had to be at least the tenth time that evening. It was already well past eight and he still had three huge piles of paperwork to get through. Being a PA freaking sucked. The pay was horrible, the hours worse, and the workload was hellish.
This was not how Sam had imagined using his degree. Here he was, a college graduate with a law degree from Stanford, doing grunt work in a tiny local law office in Palo Alto. Not once had Sam thought that he would be sitting in an office at nine on a Friday night, trying not to stab himself with a pencil. It didn’t help that his co-workers were jackasses. They’d ditched him hours ago, claiming they had plans that they couldn’t get out of and thanking him for ‘offering’ to finish up. And Sam, like the softhearted pansy that his brother often accused him of being, hadn’t stopped them.
Sam tossed the pencil he’d been contemplating gouging himself with into a wastebasket. He wanted to quit. Hell, he would quit if he had any other options. It was probably a bit sad that after close to nine months job hunting, this was the best jig he could get. Sam had been working this job for close to three years now and he still hated it. He’d decided long ago that the second he got a better job offer, he was out of here. Sadly, that offer had yet to come.
Sam glanced at the clock again and then back at the stacks and reached a decision. Screw the work. He’d been here since eight in the freaking morning. He was going home. He’d deal with the consequences on Monday. Five minutes later he was out the door and down the street, arriving at the bus stop just in time to catch the late bus. He spent the ride marking up any job possible opportunities on the newspaper that he’d flinched from office.
Maybe what he needed was a break, Sam thought as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Nothing fancy, just a little time off so he could relax, sleep in for once, read that novel he’d been putting off for so long. He stepped inside the dark room, shrugging off his coat and wincing at how stiff the muscles around his shoulders were. Yeah, he really needed a little vac—
There was someone in his apartment.
Sam realized this just as the intruder came into view. Without a second thought, Sam lunged forward, his fist aimed at the burglar’s head. Thankfully, he hadn’t had a chance to turn on the light yet so he had an advantage over the intruder as it was his apartment and he’d pretty much memorized the layout long ago. Unfortunately, the dude still managed to dodge the punch. And he countered with a punch of his own, which Sam didn’t manage to back away from in time. No matter, he lunged forward again, this time using his momentum and his bigger build to send them both stumbling over the back of the couch. Sam aimed a kick at the guy’s family jewels on the way done, but it was dark, and somehow in the struggle, he ended up being pinned to the ground instead.
“Easy tiger.” The burglar drawled.
Sam froze. He knew that voice. “Dean?”
His older brother smirked down at him. “Dude, you suck. That was just way too easy.”
Sam gapped at him. “What the hell, Dean? You scared the crap out of me!”
Dean laughed. “Aww, did I scare the little lawyer?”
Five seconds later, he was the one being pinned to the ground.
“Okay,” Dean said, more amused than annoyed. “Proved me wrong. You still got it.”
Sam rolled his eyes and got off his brother. “Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?”
Dean took the offered hand and got up. “Dad’s gone.”
Sam waited for him to continue. When it become clear that he wasn‘t, he frowned. “What do you mean ‘gone’? Gone where?”
Dean shrugged. “No idea. All I know is that he took off somewhere a couple of weeks ago.”
“That can’t be all.” Sam turned on the light and waved at Dean to take a seat. “You could have told me this on the phone. No way you’d fly all the way to California to just tell me this.”
“Didn’t fly dude, took the Impala.”
“You drove all the way to California? From South Dakota?” Was his brother for real?
Dean shrugged, a smug smile on his face.
“How long did that take you? Why didn’t you just fly? Or better yet, call?” Sometimes, it seemed like his brother didn’t have an ounce of common sense in his body.
“Two words, dude. Road. Trip.”
Sam rolled his eyes as he walked over to the fridge to grab a couple of beers, he had a feeling he‘d be needing them. “Right. So what’s the real reason you’re here?”
Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. Sam glanced back over his shoulder to see him poking at the plastic fruit basket that Sam had no idea how he’d come by and had just dumped onto the dining table.
“Dean?” he prompted.
“I got a letter from Dad’s lawyer.” Dean told the apple.
“Why?” He tossed a beer at Dean, frowning. That was unusual. Why was Dad’s lawyer contacting Dean?
“Something about a will.”
Wait a minute, what? “I thought you said he was just on vacation?”
“I don’t know, man.” Dean retorted, exasperated. He finally turned away from the riveting fruit bowl to focus on Sam. “You’re the fancy mancy lawyer. You figure out why the hell dad’s lawyer wants to meet with us.”
Sam’s frown deepened. Dean was worried, that much was pretty obvious.
“Us? Why me too?” Sam knew he was dangerously close to outright whining but he couldn’t help. He was not going to just drop his life just because his dad decided to forgo his responsibilities, never mind the fact that he had already thinking of taking a break.
“The lawyer guy refuses to talk unless we’re both there.” Dean opened the beer and gulped some down. “Just a couple of days, two weeks tops. Think of is as a vacation. As soon as the lawyer tells us whatever the hell is going on with dad, you can come right back here.”
“Dean you’re crazy if you think I’m driving to Kansas with you. Hell, you’re crazy if you think I’m going back at all.”
“Come on Sammy.” Dean said. “It’s just a few days to see what the lawyer guy wants. You don’t have to stay.”
“Dean…” It was tempting, a trip back home might just be what he needed to get out of his current funk. But he was not about to let his dad push him around like he was a kid again.
“Think of it like a vacation. Hell, weren’t you telling me just last month how much you wished you could just take off for a week. Well, here’s your chance!” Dean looked at him expectantly.
Sam sighed heavily and reached a decision. “Right. Let’s go.”
Hopefully he would not end up regretting this.
By the end of the first day, Sam remembered why driving across country with Dean was never a good idea. His elder brother operated on the rule that “driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake whole” which wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t had the exact same tastes in music as Dad. Dean also stuck dirty spoons in Sam’s mouth when he was sleeping and took pictures and sent them to everyone they knew (aka Bobby who had not bothered to reply but still, it was embarrassing). But, worst of all was that he refused to admit that he was just as worried about the meeting with the lawyer as Sam was. Which meant that he spent the entire trip pretending not to be worried, snapping at Sam whenever he tried to bring it up, and then hitting as many bars as possible whenever they stopped for the night.
Needless to say Sam was ecstatic when they finally reached the Angelic Company.
By that point, both of them are too worked up at whatever the hell the lawyer wanted to bother checking into a motel for a quick shut eye. They headed straight for AC despite the fact that they’d been in the Impala for six hours straight and were both exhausted and probably reeked.
The Angelic Company was exactly how Sam remembered it being four year ago. It was still a large chocolate-brown, three story building. The only thing that marked the building as a chocolate factory was the sign declaring the name of the company, complete with the chocolate angel, just a couple yards from the front door.
“Man this place hasn’t changed a bit.” Dean said, echoing Sam’s thoughts as they got out of the Impala, a smile on his face. “Good old AC.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, with considerably less enthusiasm. “Good old AC.”
He could see Dean turn to frown at him from the corner of his eye, but he ignored him. Dean might have fond memories of this place, but at the moment, all Sam could remember was the burning desire to get out and see the world. Which turned out fucking great. He’d made it as far as California before ending up back here again.
“Come on,” he said, pushing away those thoughts. “Let’s go see Dad’s lawyer.” The “and then get out of here” was unsaid, but clear.
Dean clapped him on the back as he passed him. “Dude, quit it with the PMSing. You‘ll be out of here by sunset, tops. I‘ll even let you take a plane back.”
Honestly, Sam hadn’t even been thinking about that. His mind was too busy recalling all the dreams and plans he’d had as a kid and how the only thing he actually managed to accomplish was getting away from the family business, and getting a degree. Sam had nothing against making chocolate, though he really couldn’t stand how the candy tasted. He just wanted to do more with his life than just sell chocolates.
They walked to the front door in silence. The secretary at the front gate was unfamiliar, she’d obviously been hired sometime after he left. She was a pretty, brunette who was apparently struck dumb at the sight of them. It didn’t help that Dean decided to flirt shamelessly with her. The poor girl could only point mutely at what the floor they need to get to. Fortunately, they already knew where their dad’s office was. The secretary stared after them with glazed eyes as they left
“Dean,” Sam said reproachfully as they headed to the elevator,
“What? She was hot.”
“Dad’s gonna kill you if you sleep with one of his employees.” He pointed out.
“Fuck. You‘re right.”
Dean pouted the rest of the way to the top floor, though he denied it when Sam pointed it out to him. They made it to their dad’s office without running into any other employees. However, they opened the door to their dad’s office to find a stranger sitting at their dad’s desk.
“Ah, Winchester’s Junior and Junior.” The stranger said. “Finally here are you? ”
“Who the hell are you?” Dean demanded
“Crowley. Your daddy’s lawyer.” The ‘obviously’ was left unsaid but it’s clearly there. “Now that you’re finally here, we can get the paperwork finished.”
He motioned for them to take a seat.
Paperwork? “Wait a second, I thought this was just about a will?” Sam asked, as he sat down on one of the two empty chairs. Dean took a seat next to him looking a bit pissed.
The lawyer elegantly raised an eyebrow at him. “I needed to ensure that you’d get here as fast as possible. Clearly I was wrong in thinking that the mention of a will would speed things along. It still took you over than seventy two hours to get here. Seems like I underestimated your devotion to your father.”
The lawyer’s tone was pleasant enough which only served to sharpen the mocking edge. Both of the Winchesters bristled.
“You can’t just—”
“What the hell—”
“Yes, yes,” the man interrupted, waving a hand in the air as though to brush of their complaints. “Send your complaints to daddy, I frankly don’t give a damn. My job is just to tell you that your daddy has made you two the new owners of this little building.”
Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to cuss Crowley out, and then stopped, mouth half open.
Sam was in a similar state. “What?” he managed to say.
Crowley sighs. “Let me simplify it for you. Daddy Winchester’s decided to retire and now it’s up to Sammy and Dean to run his little chocolate factory. Bastard didn‘t have the guts to do it himself so he dumped it all on me.”
That successfully shocked Sam out of his stupor. “I don’t want to run AC!“ he shouted horrified, jumping to his feet. “I already have a job. I’m a lawyer. Dad can’t expect me, except us, to just drop everything and run to do his job!”
Crowley shrugged. “Fine, leave it all up to your brother. No skin off my back.”
Sam turned to Dean to demand that he back him up only to pause when he caught sight of his brother’s face. Shit. “Dean you can’t seriously be considering this.”
Dean shrugged. His face was carefully neutral, but Sam knew his brother. It was clear that he was not of the same opinion as Sam.
“It’s not only dad’s company, Sam. It’s mom’s too.”
Shit. That wasn‘t fair. “Look, I want this company to stay in business just as much as you,“ Sam said. “But this isn’t fair. Dad can’t just dump this on us all out the blue and take off like that.”
“You don’t have to stay Sammy.” Dean said avoiding Sam’s eyes. “I can run the company just fine on my own, I’ve been watching Dad do it for years. I know you only took a few days off. And besides, I promised that you wouldn’t have to stay.
Sam sat down again, the fight suddenly drained out of him. Part of Sam was remembered just how much he hated his current job, while another part recalled his eternal desire to defy his father fighting. A bigger part though, was focused on how much he didn’t want to leave Dean alone to clean up this mess on his own. They weren’t kids anymore. Neither of them had to do what Dad said just because he ordered it. But Sam knew from experience that it wasn’t going to stop Dean from doing it anyway. He’d be a horrible brother if he left Dean to deal with this on his own.
“Fine. I’ll do it” Sam didn’t need to look at Dean to know that he was surprised. He glared straight at Crowley, trying to force the smug look on his face off with the power of a glare alone.
Crowley didn’t seem remotely affected by it. He turned to Dean. “I assume you agree as well, pretty boy?”
Dean scowled at the nickname but he gave a sharp nod.
“Great, because the paperwork’s already been filled out.“ He got up, brushing imaginary dust off his clothes. He took advantage of the Winchester’s surprise to head towards the door. “Congrats boys, you are now the proud owners of your very own chocolate factory. The holy accountant will be by shortly to give you the grand tour.”
He paused at the door.
“Oh, and one more thing, Try not to go bankrupt before I get my next paycheck.”
“Hang on just one fucking minute!” Dean shouted, shaking off the shock and jumping up. “You tricked us!”
“Possibly.” Crowley said and then he closed the door.
Dean rounded on Sam. “That can’t be legal!” he demanded. “Right?”
Sam grabbed the file that Crowley had left on the table and opened it to the first page. “Shit.”
“What?” Dean immediately snatched the file away from him.
“This has our signatures on it.”
“Shit.” Dean repeated. “I don’t even remember signing this.”
Sam took the file back and inspected the page closely. “I don’t either. But we must have. This is my signature.”
“And that’s mine.” Dean confirmed. “The old man totally played us, didn’t he?”
Sam doesn’t answer, he’s too busy quickly scanning through the rest of the file. He may have agreed to take over, but that does not mean that he appreciated being played, dammit.
“Fine, Whatever. We agreed to stay anyway.” Dean said, throwing himself into Dad’s chair and closing his eyes. “I’m taking a nap.”
Sam really wanted to take one himself, but they couldn’t. “We can’t, Dean. Someone’s coming to give us a tour.”
“Well, one of us can go, and the other can take a nap.” Dean reasoned. “It’s not like we didn’t practically grow up here.”
Sam must have been really tried because the plan actually sounded appealing. He placed the folder back on the desk. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“No way dude. I always lose at that.” Dean pulled something out of his pocket. “We’ll decide with this.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
Dean grinned, turning the quarter over his fingers. “Heads or tails?
“Dean, how about we both just—”
“Heads or tails Sammy. It’s not rocket science.”
Dean flipped the quarter. It was tails.
Sam’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You cheated.”
He couldn’t prove it but Dean had clearly cheated.
“Whatever, have fun, Sammy.” Dean leaned back in the chair, one arm draped over his eyes. Sam couldn’t see his face from his current angle, but he could practically hear the smug smirk.
“Bitch.” Dean shot back.
And that’s when the door opened and in strolled a guy in a trench coat.
No one spoke for a moment. The man had obviously walked into the room just in time to hear Dean’s response judging by the mildly startled look on his face as he stared Dean. Dean seemed oddly stunned, and stared right back at the man. Neither of them spoke, both seemed content with just staring at each other.
Sam coughed once. And then again. Nothing. God this was awkward. He took a step forward, right in front of the man, hand extended.
“Um, hey. Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Sam Winchester.”
The man finally turned away from Dean to stare at the offered hand. For a second, Sam was sure he was about to leave him hanging. Then he hesitatingly placed his hand in Sam’s.
“Sam. It is nice to meet you as well. My name is Castiel Novak.”
Sam smiled . “That’s my brother Dean.” he added since it seemed like Dean wasn’t going to bother introducing himself.
Castiel gave Dean a small nod.
“Hey.” Dean said.
An awkward silence descended upon the room once more.
“So…” Sam said, sending a annoyed look at Dean. “You‘re here to show us around, right?”
Castiel nodded. “Yes. If you’ll follow me.”
“Well, have fun, Sammy.” Dean drawled, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Castiel frowned at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I was under the impression that I was to show both of you around.”
“Yeah, but…” Dean trailed off.
Ha, Sam thought viciously as Dean struggled to find a way to blow Castiel off without looking like a complete jerk.
They were new here and the bosses, a dangerous combination. It would only work in their favor to have their employees like them. Dean knew this. Telling the accountant that he was intending to skip out on the introductory tour so that he could drink beer and watch porn (which no matter what Dean said Sam knew was the plan) would not help with this in the slightest.
Dean turned to Sam for help. Sam smirked in reply. Dean turned back to Castiel’s expectant face. He sighed.
“Aright. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.”
It became clear quickly that giving tours was not something Castiel usually did. The man was awkward, quiet, and generally very unhelpful at actually introducing them to anything or anyone. And he stared too much. Mostly at Dean, but Sam was subjected to his intense blue eye stare a few times whenever he asked a question. It was disconcerting to face that intense stare even for a minute. Sam had no idea how Dean managed to deal with being subjected to it multiple times. No, that wasn’t technically true. Sam had a sneaking suspicion as to why.
“We’re here.” Castiel said stopping in front of a door. A piece of paper was tapped on it, the word “Prophet” scrawled across it.
“Here?” Dean repeated, eyeing the paper with mistrust. “And where’s here?”
“Chuck Shurley‘s office.” Castiel replied, his tone indicating that this should be obvious.
Dean rolled his eyes.
Sam jumped into the conversation quickly before Dean could say another word. “Who’s Chuck?”
The door jerked open, interrupting Castiel. A girl, likely fresh out of college, stood there, eyes bright and wide.
“Castiel!” The girl said, excitedly “Finally! Is this them?”
“Becky.” Castiel said solemnly. “Yes, these are John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam.”
“Oh my god.” Becky more or less squealed. Her eyes were fixed on Sam. “You’re so..”
She trailed off with a happy sigh.
Sam took a hesitant step back. “Hi?”
He could hear Dean snickering behind him.
“Becky is Chuck’s assistant.” Castiel said, unperturbed by Becky’s behavior. He turned towards Dean as he continued. “They are in charge of all the advertising for The Angelic Company.”
“Hey, that you Castiel?” The door opened wider and a badly shaved, messily dressed man came into view. “You when the new head mojos are getting here?” He froze when he noticed Sam and Dean standing there. “Oh.”
“This is Chuck.” Castiel said unnecessarily.
“Yeah, I figured.” Dean said as Chuck squirmed uncomfortably. “You’re the guy in charge of the advertising?”
He sounded skeptical. Sam could understand. The guy looked more like a failed horror writer than the copywriter of a moderately successful chocolate factory.
Becky perked up. “Show them the—”
“Noo.” Chuck shook his head rapidly, cutting her off. He gave her a warning look.
Becky pouted. “But think of just how much more of the female population we could appeal to if we just—?
“What?” Sam asked, glancing at Dean who looked just as lost as he felt.
“You don’t want to know.” Chuck told them. “Trust me you don’t. Just ignore anything she says that you don’t understand, and never ask her for clarification.”
“I concur.” Castiel said.
“I’m standing right here.” Becky said, sounding vaguely hurt.
Sam couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for her. “I’m sure your ideas aren’t that bad.” he said, politely.
Bad move. Becky refocused on him, stepping right into his personal bubble.
“Do you work out? Oh, you totally do, don’t you?“ She started rubbing his chest with a blissful sigh. “Ohh, these abs.”
“Um, Becky?” Sam said hesitantly. “Could you stop touching me?”
“Is there some sort of freaky quota that needs to be filed in order to work here?” Dean asked the room in general. “Seriously, first Crowley, then Mister Tall, Dark, and Silent, and now Madame Fangirl? How the hell did Dad decide to hire you people?”
Chuck was too busy glaring jealously at Sam to answer.
Sam shrugged helplessly.
Becky didn’t stop rubbing his chest.
Castiel just stared at Dean with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Right, so, Castiel Novak?” Dean said, as they left Chuck’s office some time later. After Becky had finally stopped molesting Sam, Chuck had run a few new ideas by them and promised to drop by their office tomorrow. “I was meaning to ask you before, what kind of a name is that?”
Sam turned to his brother in surprise. He was pretty sure that Dean had not intentionally meant to come off sounding that douchey, but there was no way Castiel was not going to that the wrong way.
Sure enough, the trench coat-clad man frowned. “It’s my name.”
Dean put up his hands. “Hey, just saying. Didn’t mean to offend. It just that, it sounds like something out of a soap opera, that’s all.”
Unsurprisingly, Castiel did not look at all appeased at these words. He stopped walking. “I am named after Castiel, the Angel of Thursday,” he said icily, looking right at Dean. “And the name Novak is Polish. It originates from Slavic countries, and is a fairly common surname.”
Dean looked torn between amusement and annoyance. “Dude, I was just saying—”
“At least I am not named after an inadequate rifle.”
“Hey!” The amusement slipped off his face as Dean glared right back.
They ended up glaring at each other again for a good minute or so.
Right. That was it. Sam can’t take it anymore.
He had to get away from Dean and Castiel. The sexual tension between them was absolutely stifling. He wasn’t sure if Dean was aware of it or not, but it was bluntly obvious to Sam that he wanted in Cas’s pants. Seriously, he was pretty much pulling Cas’s pigtails, especially with the name comment. No to mention all the staring.
There was a hallway behind him to his right that Castiel had passed by without showing them. He quietly made his way to it, positive that his presence won’t be missed. He really had no desire to stand there awkwardly waiting for the two to realize that they were not alone. As he walked down he hall, he admitted to himself that he felt a little ignored. Don’t get him wrong, he was beyond glad that Dean was finally showing a genuine interest in someone for the first time since Lisa. It’s just that a part of him, the petty, jealous part, was wishing that he had someone to stare at and tease too.
The guilt came almost immediately after the thought. It’s been almost five years since Jessica’s death. He’d finally started to move on, but the problem was, he still felt like he was cheating anytime he went our on a date.. Not that he’s been on any since he got a job at the law firm. But either way, even the thought of going out with someone filled him with a sense of guilt that he just couldn’t shake. It’s stupid, Sam knew, but he couldn’t help it.
A flash of movement caught Sam’s eye as he walked past a glass door. He paused, curious, and peered inside. There was a large group of people inside, all clad in aprons with chocolate colored ‘AC’ printed on them. A few are cooking something on the stoves at the very back of the room. There are a few people in front of a large counter too, doing something with the chocolate. Sam was pretty sure they’re molding it, and was that a wing?
This was where the chocolate angels was made, he realized. Sam hated eating them, always had, but he couldn’t deny having a soft spot for. Seeing a chocolate angel for the first time in years was—
Sam jumped away from the door and spun around. “What?” he yelped, feeling oddly like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Which was ridiculous. He was co-owner of the company now. He could sulk in the corners and stare at his employees making chocolate if he wanted to. It wasn’t creepy at all.
A man in a white lab coat was standing behind him. He raised his eyebrows at him, something close to amusement playing on his face. “Yup, you’re new.”
“I, uh, kinda.” Sam admitted. “Hi. I’m Sam.”
“Gabriel, dude who designs chocolates. You’re one of Crowley’s new assistants then?” Gabriel nodded like some things had suddenly become clear. “Don’t let him catch you down here. He hates it when his minions associate with us.”
“Come along then little Charlie,” Gabriel interrupted. “And I’ll show you around my chocolate factory before the King of Hell drags you back. ”
That was actually a very good description of Crowley.
“Wait, I—,” He paused. “Did you just call me Charlie? As in Charlie from ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory‘?”
“Keep up, Charlie!” Gabriel was practically smirking at him. “I haven’t got all day. Neither have you.”
“My name’s Sam.” He corrected half-heartedly. He wasn’t expecting Gabriel to actually listen and sure enough, the man didn’t.
“This, Charlie, is where the magic happens.” He opened the door, and indicated Sam to go in.
Okay, Sam was positive now. Dean was right. There had to be some find of weirdness criteria that needed to be met when Dad fired people because there was seriously wrong with this guy. What kind of sane individual invites the person that had been creeping outside their workspace in for a closer look?
But Sam followed him into the room anyway, too curious not to. It had been years since he’d seen chocolate being made, and he had to admit, he was itching to see how much the process had changed. And Gabriel was kind of interesting. In a odd kind of way.
One of the things that made AC so unique was the fact that everything, from making the chocolates to packing them, was done by hand. Sam had no idea if his dad had stuck to this old fashioned system because it worked so well, or if he stuck to it because of his distrust for machinery. Either way, the current system was what got them ranked in the among the top 50s for the best tasting chocolate in the States.
Most of the workers didn’t look up as Sam walked into the room. The few that did look up, glancing briefly at him, before dismissing him and tossing questions as Gabriel. Gabriel answered them easily, glancing at Sam a couple of times as he did so. Sam took the chance to gaze around the room and breathe in the familiar, oddly comforting smell of chocolate. He was staring at a chocolate angel being made to his left when he noticed something odd about the questions Gabriel was being asked.
"Did they just call you Mister Wonka?" he asked, incredulously.
Gabriel grinned. "Yep. Hey, since I’m Wonka, will you be my Charlie?"
“ ...I'm pretty sure there’s something seriously wrong with that sentence.” Despite this, Sam couldn’t help but smile.
“Aw don’t be such a stick, Charlie.” Gabriel clapped him on the back. “Come along, let’s get you some free samples. I’m guessing that‘s why you were standing out there like Edward outside Bella‘s bedroom window.”
“Will they turn me into a blueberry?” Sam asked wryly, determinedly ignoring the stalker comment. He couldn’t really defend himself against that. “Or will they turn my spit in seven different colors?”
Gabe didn’t answer. Sam turned to see why and saw the man staring at him. No actually, he was staring at something on Sam’s face. Oddly enough, Sam‘s face began to heat up under the stare. Sam opened his mouth to ask what was wrong.
“Hey, Gabriel?” one of the bakers shouted from the other side of the room. “Should it be bubbling like this?”
Gabriel’s honey brown eyes widened. “Uh oh.” He was gone before Sam could say another word.
Okay, that did not sound good. Sam started to follow him, figuring that since he’s the new boss, then he should probably inspect any possible explosions. It had nothing to do with wanting to be near the self proclaimed chocolate man.
And that was when Dean decided to burst into the room, severely pissed off and dragged Sam away.
“Fuck, what time is it?” Dean moaned, collapsing into John’s chair again the second they reached the office. Sam could already tell that Dean would be commandeering the chair every moment he got and resolved to buy a chair for himself as soon as possible. “Is the day over yet?”
“It’s barely two, Dean,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. He was still a little miffed about being pulled away from Gabriel without the chance to say good bye. “You can take lunch if you want. Invite Castiel with to come with you so you two can ‘bond’.”
Dean’s reply came in the form of a bird.
“Hey, what happened to the tour.” Sam couldn’t believe he hadn‘t asked before. “Where’d Castiel go anyway?”
“We decided to go ‘our separate ways’.” Dean said, lowering his voice in a bad imitation of Castiel’s. “Since you ditched and Cas was freaking PMSing. Seriously dude, that was not cool.”
Which translated to Castiel deciding he didn’t want to take anymore of Dean’s bull shit and going back to do his job and now Dean was pouting about it. It didn’t escape Sam’s notice that Castiel had now been shortened to Cas. Dean had it bad.
“Sorry,“ Sam said insincerely. “Go take lunch. I’ll go over these papers and see if there’s a way we can force Dad to come back.”
Dean grumbled something but made no move to get up. Sam knew how his brother felt. He was feeling a little overwhelmed himself. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Gabriel. Or the fact that he and Dean were now the sole owners of the family business. Not just Gabriel.
“Well, look on the bright side.” he said, picking up the file Crowley had left.
Dean opened one eye.
“At least the day can’t get any worse.”
And that’s when the office door burst open.
Sam jumped to his feet immediately. Dean tried to follow, but jumping up when your feet are on the table is no easy feat. He recovered quickly, but not before both Sam and the stranger both saw the stumble.
“So, you’re John’s boys.” The stranger said, unimpressed, looking at Dean. “Clearly don’t take after your father much do you?”
Dean flushed an angry red. “Doesn’t anyone ever knock anymore? And who the hell are you?”
“Lucifer, of Morning Star Ice Cream.” The man introduced himself with a smirk. “We’re the ones that introduced the Armageddon to the world.”
“Never heard of you.” Dean said immediately.
“I’m not surprised.” Lucifer replied. “I wouldn’t have expected someone like you have sampled my ice cream.”
“Wait,” Sam interrupted with a frown. He‘d heard that name before. “Morning Star? As in the company that’s been trying to buy Angelic Company for the past four years?”
“Five,” Lucifer corrected. “But then, who’s counting?”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. Sam practically saw him shift into defensive mode. “So you’re the douche who’s been a pain in Dad’s ass. How the hell did you get in here?”
Lucifer shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by the outright hostility being directed at him. “You should fire your secretary. A few small compliments and here and there, she let me waltz right in.”
Unfortunately , Sam had no trouble imagining that. They probably would have to fire her, but this blond douche bag didn’t need to know that. “Here’s a better question, why are you here?”
Lucifer flopped onto the sofa that Sam had vacated. Sam took a few steps back, putting some distance between them. There was just something a bit unsettling about the man.
“You know, when I first heard of your daddy’s little company.” Lucifer purred, leaning back. “The last thing I expected was for it to be a chocolate factory. Though I have to admit, the company here is heavenly.”
He more or less sneered at Sam.
Sam couldn’t see his brother’s face at the moment, but he had no doubt it mirrored his own. What the fucking hell? Was this guy for real?
“If you’re not going to tell us why you’re here,” Dean said shaking off the creepiness before Sam. “Then leave”
“Hold your horses” The ice cream man said. “ I just want to offer a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” Sam asked suspiciously.
“We’re not making any deals with some guy name after the freaking devil.” Dean snapped. “Get the hell out.”
Lucifer ignored him and spoke directly to Sam. “I can’t imagine that you’re too happy with this, Sam.” he said. “Having to drop your whole life just because Daddy decided to go vacation in the Bahamas.”
“I’m fine.” Sam said tightly.
“How about I take this company off your hands, hmm?” He continued as though he hadn’t heard Sam‘s denial. “You get to go back to your little old lives and AC gets an owner who actually has the experience to run her.”
“No.” Dean and Sam say immediately as one.
Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “Cute.”
Dean scowled. “You’ve got same balls, coming in here and demanding that we sell you our factory. Get the hell out before I knock your friggn’ balls off.”
Lucifer sighs as though Dean had severely disappointed him “And here I thought that you could get though one conversation like civilized folk without threats.” His eyes narrowed and suddenly the air around him seemed to chill. “Consider my offer carefully boys. I won’t make it again.”
“You can take you offer.” Dean said before Sam could more than open his mouth. “and stuff it where the sun don‘t shine, because we are not selling AC. Ever.”
Not as eloquently put as Sam would have said it, but it got the gist across.
“Leave.” He ordered, pulling out his cell phone. “Or I’m calling the police.”
Lucifer did not seem at all concerned by the threat, but he got off the sofa. “Well, I can see that I’m not wanted here. Call me if you change your minds. You know where to find me.”
“For the last time, We’re not selling AC.” Sam said firmly.
“Oh, you’ll say yes, Sam.” Lucifer said, with an oddly disturbing smile. “You were always going to say yes.”
And on that cryptic and ominous note, he exited the room.
“What the hell does that mean?” Sam asked, bemused. He turned to his brother His brother looked pissed which wasn’t surprising. No, the surprising part was the resolution in his eyes. It had been years since Sam last saw his brother that determined about anything.
“We are going to run this factory just as well Dad did.” Dean declared. “Hell, maybe even better.”
Sam wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or Sam, but he felt the exact same way.
Over the next few days. Sam learned that running a business was not at all an easy task. It was actually extremely difficult and very time consuming, especially since Dean has zero business sense and Sam was the one left to handle all the paperwork. Fortunately he had Castiel to guide him. Unfortunately, Dean still reverted into a six year old ever whenever he was in the same room as Castiel and does his best to pull the man’s figurative pigtails. The man would then snap at him and they would end up staring/glaring at each, completely forgetting that Sam was in the room.
Anytime Cas wasn’t there, Dean would continuously grumble about Cas to Sam. Any Dean wasn’t there, Cas would look annoyed if Dean’s name was brought up. But that didn’t change the fact that Sam kept catching him stealing glances at Dean whenever he thought no one was looking.
It was so freaking annoying.
Sam was pretty sure that he would have done something crazy, like lock them in the nearest closest until they dealt with their stupid unresolved sexual tension, if it hadn’t been for Gabriel. Anytime the staring got too uncomfortable to be around, Sam would sneak away and go find Gabriel.
Sam initial observation about the man had been spot on. Gabriel was weird, and proud of it. Sam usually ended up visiting Gabriel two or three times a day, and each time, the man would have a new piece of chocolate for Sam to sample. Sam had initially only taken the chocolate to be polite and would only eat it because Gabriel would demand his opinion of the chocolate the next time they saw each other. The chocolate wasn’t as bad as Sam expected it to be so he kept accepting the chocolate even after they reached the point where Sam could just tell Gabriel that he didn’t like chocolate without being rude. It seemed that for some reason, Sam didn’t mind eating chocolates when Gabriel was the one giving hem to him. He refused to look too closely at the implications of that.
But, all in all, life was good, right up until the end of the first week.
On Friday, when Sam showed up in Gabe’s kitchen for the fourth time that day, the chocolate man took one look at him and declared. “You. Me. Karaoke tonight.”
Sam blinked at him, completely lost. “What?”
“Karaoke, Charlie” Gabriel said, mixing whatever he was cooking. Gabriel knew perfectly well that Sam’s name was not Charlie at this point, but he had yet to cease calling him that. It had been a bit annoying at first, but as Gabriel grew on him, Sam found himself not minding too much. “Best way to relax after a hard week of work, which you definitely just had. Let me be frank, my dear, when I say that you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, feeling slightly insulted. One thing he still had trouble with though was Gabe’s bluntness. “It’s a nice idea Gabe, but I can’t really sing though.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Fine, just listen to me sing them.” He grinned. “I have it on good authority that I have one hell of a voice.”
“Wasn’t asking. Meet at the Hunter’s Lounge at nine. Now get out. This is a very delicate procedure and I don’t need your hot ass here distracting me. ”
And with that, he pushed Sam out the door and shut it in his face.
Sam didn’t really want to go to a bar. He did not want to do karaoke. What he really wanted was to go to the motel he was sharing with Dean and fall unconscious into his bed. That’s what he really wanted. So why had he asked Ruby, the recently hired secretary, for directions to The Hunter’s Lounge? And why the hell was he sitting at The Hunter’s Lounge, listening to bad singing as he waited for Gabriel to show up?
“I must be crazy.” He told the drink that he had ordered.
“Not necessarily,” Gabriel said, plopping into the seat next to Sam. “Loads of folk talk to their beer around here. Now if you were talking to anything, say my beer for example, then I’d have to say that you were crazy.”
“Hey Gabe,” Sam said, turning to him with a smile.
“Hiya, Charlie. Sorry I was late. One of the Oompa Loompa’s managed to misplace an entire package of angels.” He swiped Sam’s half empty glass and downed it all in one go.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you addressing your workers as Oompa Loompas.” Sam admitted, making a half hearted attempt to take back the empty glass. “Did you find it?”
“Nope. He was still looking for it when I left. It’ll turn up.”
Sam frowned. “Shouldn’t you have reported that?”
Gabriel shrugged. “The head honchos were already gone when I found out. I‘ll tell ‘em on Monday.”
“Why didn’t you just call me then?” They had traded numbers after their second meeting though either had yet to use them. However, missing inventory was certainly a good reason to call wasn’t it? s
Gabe frowned. “Why would I do that?” He jumped out of his seat before Sam could answer. “Hey, I‘m up next. Now, just sit tight and let me wondrous voice relax you, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam.” Sam called after him, though, as expected, Gabriel paid him no mind.
He was already on the miniature stage, taking the microphone from the guy who’s been bellowing out a truly horrible rendition of “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga.
After pressing a few buttons on the karaoke machine, Gabe straightened up, a smirk on his face. He looked straight at Sam as the music began and launched into the song.
“Come on baby, let me take you by the hand
Come on sugar, let me take you by the hand
You're for me, let me be, all your own
Candy, your candy, candy man.”
He was singing Candyman, by Roy Orbison. Sam started to laugh. He probably shouldn’t. It wasn’t a humorous song and Gabriel hadn’t been lying, he had a damn good singing voice. But Gabe’s expression were just so exaggerated and over the top as he sang that Sam couldn’t help it. And there was just something hilarious about a guy who made chocolate singing about being a candy man.
Yeah, Sam was probably a bit drunk by this point.
Gabriel grinned at him as he launched into the second and it occurred to Sam that this had probably been Gabe’s plan along. Sam had been feeling increasingly drained as the days passed, and it seemed Gabe had noticed. He felt pleasantly warm at the thought that Gabe cared enough about him already to waste a Friday night on cheering him up.
And that’s when Sam realized it. Somewhere in between their initial meeting and now, Sam had developed a huge ass crush on the candy maker. Oh shit.
This was not good.
Sam could think of a dozen reasons why getting involved with someone who was technically his employee was a seriously bad idea. But as he sat there, listening to Gabe singing for him, none of them seemed to matter much. Oddly enough, Sam felt no guilt about having feelings for someone other than Jessica. All he felt at the moment was warm and content. He felt more relaxed at the moment than he had all week actually.
“That was great,” Sam praised Gabe
Gabriel took a very theatrical bow before retaking his seat. “Feel relaxed yet?”
“Yup. I feel better than I have all week.”
“Great.” He ordered a beer for himself and Sam before turning to the taller man. “So what left you looking like the undead? Is working for the King of Hell really that stressful?”
Sam who had been about to a sip of his beer froze. “What?”
“What?” Gabe echoed, bemused.
“Wait, what did you say?” Sam demanded.
“The King of Hell? You know, Crowley?”
And that’s when Sam realized that Gabriel did not know who he was.
“Gabe..” he said hesitantly. “I don’t work for Crowley.”
Gabriel frowned. “You don’t? Really? You look like you do, talk like it sometimes too. All lawyery and shit.”
Sam gulped down his entire glass before continuing. “Crowley kind of works for me now.”
There was a silence as Gabriel processed the information.
“Wait a minute…” Gabriel started slowly. “You’re Sam Winchester? As in John Winchester’s son? As in my new freaking boss?”
Thinking back later on, Sam was pretty sure that the whole mess was his fault. He should have made more of an effort to correct the Gabe’s initial misconception of him when they met as soon as possible. But it hadn’t occurred to him that Gabe still thought that Sam worked for Crowley and not the other way around.
To his credit, Gabriel didn’t tell him to fuck off right then. Instead he just clamed up, and made an excuse within the next five minutes to leave. Sam couldn’t really blame him. If he’d just found out that he’d been sneaking chocolates to his boss all week and calling him ‘Charlie’, then he’d be pretty pissed off too.
The weekend passed by slowly and unpleasantly. Sam spent most of it sulking around the motel debating whether or not to call Gabriel. Luckily for him, Dean spent most of the weekend out of the motel so he didn’t have to deal with the question that would inevitability have been asked had Dean been home to notice that Sam was acting like a rejected teenage girl.
Sam had to admit he was being pretty pathetic. So what if he had a bit of a crush on the guy. It didn’t give him the right to mope around. And it wasn’t like he’d known Gabriel for that long anyway. And it wasn’t like he’d actually lied to the man. He’d just forgotten to correct a misconception. Dammit. He’d be lucky if Gabe even talked to him after this.
Finally Monday arrived, bringing with it a new problem.
About a quarter to ten, the door to his and Dean’s office flew open and Chuck burst in, looking more harried than ever. The first words out of his mouth were “I didn’t do it!”
Sam looked up from the inventory list he had been reviewing in time to see Cas slip silently into the room behind Chuck. On the other side of the room, Dean looked up where he had been responding to the day’s emails on Sam’s laptop.
“Didn’t do what?” Sam asked, placing the papers in his hand on the desk.
“Dude, does nobody here know how to knock?” Dean grumbled, closing the laptop with a little more force than was probably necessary.
“I swear it wasn’t me.” Chuck continued as though he had not heard. He glanced at Sam, then Dean, and then turned back to Sam before thrusting a piece of paper at him. “Becky found it this morning. I swear she didn’t have anything to do with it either.”
“Dude, what are you talking about?” Dean demanded, getting up and heading over to them. As Sam took the paper from Chuck, he couldn’t help but notice how close Dean ended up standing next to Cas. Huh. That was interesting.
Then he turned his attention to the paper, and swore. Loudly.
“Lemme see.” Dean swiped the paper from him, scanned it quickly, and swore. “How the hell did this happen?” he demanded.
Chuck shrunk back under his furious stare. “Hey, hey, don’t shoot the messenger, man!”
“Chuck.” Sam said, calmly. “Where did you find this?”
“It wasn’t me, it was Becky.” Chuck said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She was on her laptop, uh, working, and then she suddenly started screaming. She showed it to me, and I just printed it out and brought to Castiel,” he jerked his head toward the silent man. “Who told me to bring it to you guys. So I did. And, yeah, that’s it.”
Dean turned to Cas. “How the hell did Lucifer get his hands on our recipe for Vessel‘s chocolate?” he demanded.
“No I don’t know, Dean.” Cas said his face hard. He looked nearly as pissed off as Dean did.
“Are you sure about that Castiel?” A new voice said from the door way. Sam turned around to see Crowley lounging there, coolly bereaving the group in the room.
“Crowley.” Cas said, his expression shifting from pissed off to intense dislike. “What are you doing here?”
“Not the question of the hour here, angel.” Crowley said coming into the room. “The real question is, are you sure that you don’t know?”
Cas’s eyes narrowed. “I do not appreciate what you are implying.”
“What are you talking about?” Dean interrupted, glaring at Crowley.
Crowley raised an eyebrow, mock surprise on his face. “You don’t know? Did either of you bother to read up on your employee’s backgrounds?”
“We haven’t had the time,” Sam said defensively. “And why should it matter? Dad must have already done all the necessary background checks when he hired people, right?”
“You dear old father is an idiot.” Crowley said. “If you’d bothered to check, then you’d have found out that Castiel here, and his brother Gabriel down in the kitchens, are the younger bothers of dear old Lucifer.”
“You’re related to Lucifer?”
“Gabriel’s your brother?”
Cas turned towards Sam, startled. “You know Gabriel?”
“Not the point.” Crowley said in a sing song manner. “Miss Becky if you will.”
Becky hurried into the room, apparently having been waiting for her cue just outside the door.
“Hi Sam.” she said with a wave, beaming at him.
“Hi,” Sam gave an awkward half wave in return.
“Tell them what you told me.” Crowley told with a half smile.
“Right, I asked around,” Becky started, suddenly serious. “on the chat rooms and forums. And I found out that that MSIC, that’s short for Morning Star Ice Cream, is planning on introducing seven new chocolate flavors of ice cream. I couldn’t find out the name of all of them, but I did find out that one’s called The Vessel’s Entourage. Another is the Hell’s Revenge. That‘s the recipe that I gave to Chuck to show you”
“That sounds a lot like…” Sam trailed off, horrified. “Fuck”
“A lot like the chocolate sold here?” Crowley finished for him. “It should, seeing as it’s the exact same recipe.”
Dean’s eyes widened as he caught up. “How the hell?”
“A mole. A traitor, A turncoat. Call him whatever you want. Just find him.” And with those parting words, the lawyer left the room.
Dean spun around to face Cas and got right into his personal bubble. “Did you fucking know about this?” He demanded.
Cas glared back. “I already told, I did not.”
“I don’t believe you,” Dean sneered shoving at Cas.
“I am telling the truth , Cas replied, shoving right back.
A short scuffle followed in which Cas ended up shoving Dean against the wall, their faces much closer than they probably should be. Both of them froze, eyes wide like deer caught in a headlight.
Sam decided very quickly to leave at that point. Becky on the other hand, had to be practically dragged out Her eyes were wide and her mouth open as she openly gawped at Dean and Cas who were entirely oblivious to her and the rest of the room.
Sam parted with Chuck and Becky right outside the door, leaving Chuck to pull Becky back to their office on his own.
He was heading to the kitchens.
There was no way that Gabriel was the mole. No way in hell. But Sam couldn’t help remembering the missing box of angels that Gabe had mentioned on Friday. Gabe couldn’t be involved in this, but maybe he had found the box by now. Maybe he knew who the mole was.
Or maybe, a nasty little voice in the back of his head said. Maybe he is the mole.
Sam shook his head, pushing the voice away. He hadn’t known Gabe for very long, but already knew that Gabriel was not the kind of person to sell out his own.
Sam opened the glass door, remembering when Gabriel had first invited him in, back when he was still talking to him.
Gabriel looked up from the chocolate he was molding, surprise clear on his face,
“Sam,” he breathed.
Sam froze. Shit. He hadn’t exactly thought about what he should say when he actually saw Gabriel.
Gabriel’s face went blank. “I’m a bit busy right now.” He said, carefully. “If you'll excuse me.” He turned to leave.
“Lucifer’s your brother.” Sam blurted out, hoping to stop him.
It worked. Gabe froze in his tracks.
“When was the last time you spoke with him?” Sam asked, before Gabriel could shake off the shock and start to leave again.
“What’s he done now?” Gabriel sighed. “Stolen a recipe? Faked a health check?”
“He stole some recipes.” Sam told him. “And sent a mole here.”
“I haven’t talked to my brother in years, Sam” Gabriel scowled. “Luci’s pissed at me and Cas ditching him to work at AC. That’s actually one of the reason’s why he wants to own this place.”
“Because you and Cas decided to work here?”
“Because me and Cas decided to work here instead of for him.” There was a faint sense of sadness tinting his words.
“Why did you come here?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t you work for him.”
For a minute, Sam thought he wasn’t going to answer.
Then Gabriel said, softly, “I was tried of the fighting.”
“Lucifer is a very competitive person.”
And that’s when Sam heard it. A faint scuffling sound, followed by a thump and the undeniable sounds of someone moving a box. It was coming from a room near the door that lead to the hall. The store room, if Sam was remembering correctly.
Gabe seemed to hear it too. He frowned at the door. “No one else should be here yet.” he said lightly. “And no one else would be in the stores this early in the morning.”
“The mole.” Sam whispered under his breath.
Gabe shot him a look that clearly said, oh really? He carefully picked up a nearby empty saucepan and motioned for Sam to follow. Before Sam could stop him, he’d thrown the door to the store open and brought the saucepan onto the mole’s head with a loud bang.
“Oops.” he said, not sounding very apologetic at all. “That might have been a bit too hard.”
Sam stared incredulously at the prone, familiar ,blonde figure on the ground. “Ruby?”
Gabriel glanced at him. “You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s the new secretary.” Sam frowned. “I, we hired her after the first one let Lucifer walk right in…” He trailed off as a thought occurred to him.
“Let me guess.” Gabriel said, a mocking edge to his voice. “Lucifer was the one to suggest that you fire her. And then Ruby here showed up a day later with a glowing resume, and was just perfect for the job.”
Sam scowled but didn’t answer. That was exactly what had happened. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t wondered how the perfect candidate for the job had show up just hours after the position had opened.
Gabriel snorted. “Lucifer totally played you. You realize she’s the mole, right?”
“Shut up.” Sam growled. Of course he realized that, he wasn’t an idiot. “She’s probably the one behind the missing inventory too.”
“You think of that all one your own genius?”
Sam gritted his teeth but didn’t respond to the jibe.
Gabe poked Ruby lightly with his foot. “Huh, she’s really out of it. What do we do know?”
Good question. “Call Crowley?” Sam suggested. He reached into his pockets for his phone only to realize it wasn’t there. Shit, he’d left it back on his desk. “Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have Crowley’s number…”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call him.”
There was an uncomfortable, almost stifling silence as Gabe dialed for Crowley and waited for the man to pick up.
Unable to take the silence any longer, Sam blurted out, “I’m sorry.”
Gabriel jumped, startled. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Sam repeated.
Gabe turned back to his phone, avoiding Sam’s eyes. “For accusing me of selling out the company? Or for lying to me?”
“I wasn’t—both,” Sam said, with a wince. Shit, he hadn‘t exactly meant to accuse Gabe of being the mole, but thinking back, it probably had sounded like he was accusing the guy.“ I didn’t, I mean, I should have corrected you immediately when you thought that I worked for Crowley.”
“You should have.” Gabe agreed. “So why didn’t you?”
“Honestly? I just kind of forgot.”
“You forgot?” Gabe sounded skeptical.
“I got distracted.” Sam said defensively, not meeting Gabriel’s gaze. “I mean, there was the chocolate, and you, and the Wily Wonka stuff. I just forgot.”
He risked a quick glance and found the man staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.
“It’s fine.” he said. He looked like he was about to say something else, but of course, that was when Crowley picked up.
Once they handed Ruby securely over to Crowley, who had been entirely too gleeful to get his hands on the mole, Sam and Gabe headed straight the office to tell Dean and Cas the good news.
“I really am sorry.” Sam said again as they made their way down the hall.
“It’s fine, Sam.” Gabe said, with a roll of his eyes. “Seriously, forget it.”
But Sam couldn’t forget it. Gabriel was still addressing him by his name. He’d work harder to gain Gabe’s forgiveness he vowed at they neared the office.
Sam threw open the door to the office without bothering to knock.
“Hey, Dean! Gabe and I, we found the—shit!”
He slammed the door shut with so much force that window down the hall actually rattled.
“Omigod.” he squeaked, slapping a hand over his eyes. He did not need to see that. No he did not.
“Congrats, bro!” Gabe shouted at the closed door, not at all concerned by the horrors they just witnessed. “About time you lost that pesky virginity.”
There was an angry shout through the door, followed by a surprised one, and, oh god, was that a moan? Wait.
“Cas is a virgin?” Sam asked incredulously. No way. The dude had to be thirty, at least.
Gabe grinned. “Not anymore.”
Sam winced. “Shit, stop reminding me. God, I need to find some brain bleach.”
“Don’t be such a prude, Charlie.”
Sam’s head jerked towards him, mental scarring put aside for the moment. “You called me Charlie.”
Gabe’s grin faded and he looked uncertain. “I can stop if you want me to.”
Sam’s grinned, feeling lighter then he had in days. “No, no, that’s fine. Hey, you want to go get lunch, Mr. Willy Wonka?”
“Lead the way Charlie.”
Chapter 3: Deleted Scenes:
The only downfall to dating Gabriel was that it provided Dean with endless material to torment him with. It was during lunch, the day after their first date that Dean struck. Dean, being who he is, did not bother to talk time and place into consideration. Or, more likely, he just didn’t care that Cas was in the room with them.
Sam was busy on his laptop so he failed to see the wicked grin appear on Dean’s face in time to be on guard. “Hey, Sammy. Did Gabriel let you suck his lollipop yet?”
Sam choked on his spit. “What?”
Cas looked up from the files he had been reviewing. “Sam, if you want to try one of Gabriel’s new lollipops I’m sure he’d let you if you just asked him.”
Sam who had just managed to regain control of his breathing chocked again.
Dean meanwhile alternated between laughing his head off and staring at Cas with something close to wonder.
“There’s no way you didn’t catch the innuendo there, Cas.” He said in between chuckles.
Cas simply frowned at him before gathering up all of the files on the table and leaving the room. Dean shook his head, still amused.
“Dude, sometimes I —Sam? Hey, c’mon Sammy, breathe! I’m not your boy toy, I won’t give you CPR if you—ow!”
“Hey, Becky, can you take these to up Sam and Dean?” Chuck asked, waving a folder in her direction. “It’s the final version of the new ad they requested.”
“Just a second,” Becky replied, typing away rapidly at her computer. “I just need to finish this paragraph.”
“What are you doing anyway?” Chuck asked, suspiciously. “I thought you were done for the day.”
Becky grinned at her screen. “I am.”
He couldn’t help it. He was human and curious. He looked over her shoulder.
Almost immediately, all the color drained form his face. “Are you, are you writing porn about our bosses?”
Becky sighed happily. “It’s called RPS. Forget fictional characters, the real deal is just so much better. I mean, I could actually just walk in on them sometimes. Everyone online is so jealous.”
“…never mind. I’ll take this to them myself. You just, just, make sure they never find out that I know about this.”
Exactly eight months, three weeks, and four days after he seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, John Winchester just as abruptly returned. He didn’t bother to call beforehand, he just showed up bright and early at the AC and headed straight for his office, intending to surprise his boys.
He was the one that ended up being surprised.
Without bothering to knock, he walked right in just in time to see Dean shove his accountant against the wall and try to kiss the living shit out of him. He backtracked immediately and shut the door quietly. He stood there staring at it for a moment.
He hadn’t even known that Dean was gay. Maybe he should make a greater effort to spend more time with his sons. Not now obviously, Dean looked like he’d be busy for a while now.
Maybe he should find Sam and ask him when his brother started going for the other team.