(11/7/2019) Thank you Makanie and ngregory763 for the reviews!

The car ride back to Sapphire was long and uncomfortable, at least for the two passengers. Rollins was still bewildered over her near-death experience and had no idea how to vocalize her concerns. Dean was anxious over Eva's absence as well as the prospect of leaving his brother in the hands of unknown authorities. By contrast, Finn (who had volunteered to drive) found the silence rather soothing.

As soon as they had parked their standard NYPD-issued vehicle, Dean headed for his car. The impressively well-maintained 1967 Chevrolet Impala parked in a nearby alleyway had both detectives making noises of admiration and approval. However, when they got close to the hood Dean abruptly requested, "Stay there."

"What?" Fin asked.

"Just… trust me. Better you don't know."

Rollins exchanged apprehensive glances with her partner, but Fin merely shrugged. "A'ight."

"Really?" Rollins asked incredulously.

"You wanna make up the lie about whatever it is he's got hiding back there?"

"Nope."

After few minutes of clunking and the shifting of metal Dean closed his trunk. He held out two blades which shone oddly in the light. "Silver," the hunter explained. "Won't do shit to most things, but for this guy? It'll be fatal."

The two detectives took the proffered weapons. "If you say so," Rollins muttered skeptically.

"What've you got?" Fin asked.

Dean opened up his jacket. A thick handled stiletto peeked out from an inside pocket. "Angel blade," he explained with a smirk. "Kills pretty much everything."

"Yeah? How do you go about gettin' one of those?"

The elder Winchester grimaced. "Off a dead angel."

Rollins frowned. "That… That just sounds incredibly…"

"Difficult?" Fin offered.

"I was gonna say 'sad'. I mean, it's a dead angel."

"Most of 'em deserve it," Dean growled. He marched past the two consternated detectives without pause and effectively stifled their inquiries.

Around the corner and across the street had them at the same manhole they'd arrested the brothers at the night before. The sunlight revealed what hadn't been obvious in the dark; the cover had been moved. It was askew only slightly, its lip tilted at an angle just this side of suspicious. Fin hefted the crowbar he'd brought from their vehicle and, with Dean's help, removed the cast iron circle.

Rollins clicked her flashlight and swept it back and forth down the ladder. "Nothing obvious. Could call in CSU and get it all processed. Might be fingerprints."

"Won't do any good," Dean argued. "This thing don't got permanent fingers." Before either of the NYPD officers could object, the hunter planted his boots on the top rung and began to descend, effectively smearing any latent evidence the suspect might have left behind.

"But—"

"Too late, Amanda," Fin said with a sigh. "You stay up here, keep watch."

Certain she was witnessing a case of overprotective masculinity, Rollins instinctively began to object, but when she caught a whiff of the stench permeating the area below she changed her mind. "Fine by me." She handed her partner the flashlight and stepped back.

Dean caught the torch Fin tossed as soon as he hit the bottom. "Ready?" asked the hunter.

"What're we looking for?"

"Something gross."

Seeing the nearby remnants of someone's spaghetti dinner slowly rotting amidst the half-eaten corpse of a particularly large rat didn't exactly assuage the detective's doubts. "Seriously?"

"Trust me. That ain't nothing to what we're looking for."

They treaded carefully down the maintenance walkway. Occasionally they passed a grate and the sound of New York's streets drifted in. Other than that, however, their meandering was done mostly in silence. When they did finally find what they were looking for the sound of Fin's yell sent the sewer's denizens scurrying away. "The fuck is that?" the detective demanded.

Dean knelt down and fingered the mass of skin and white, viscous goop. "Good. Now we know for sure it's a shapeshifter."

Outraged, Fin asked, "You mean you weren't sure before?"

"You think that's the only thing out there that can change the way it looks?" Dean refuted as he stood back up. "It's just the easiest to kill."

The detective sighed. "Now what?"

"I have no freaking clue." The Winchester's fidgeting hands belied his nonchalant tone. After pondering a bit, Dean pulled out his cell phone. "No signal."

"Me neither. Let's head back, let Rollins know what's up."

"Yeah, and get Sam on in this."

After Fin had carefully scraped up a bit of shapeshifter leftovers into an evidence bag, the two men wove their way silently back down the tubes. It was obvious, at least to Dean, that the shifter had picked this city specifically for the maze just underneath the surface; it made for a frustratingly intricate hideaway for a creature that wanted to indulge its violent predilections. Charging down one way or the other would only get them lost, and with Eva's life on the line that wasn't an option.

Fin had taken the lead, but had, oddly, paused at the foot of the ladder, his gaze at his feet. "What is it?" Dean asked.

The detective crouched down, snatched something off the dark floor, and came back up. He spun around and held out the item: a smashed cell phone. Abruptly, Fin slapped the broken device into Dean's chest made a quick, hazardous climb up the ladder.

"Shit!" cursed the detective as Dean crested the top. The hunter made a quick sweep around the alleyway and quickly realized what had the man spitting vulgarities.

The alleyway was empty. A silver blade lay abandoned on the cement.

Detective Amanda Rollins was gone.

"What? Get back here right away, Fin."

With great self-control, Lieutenant Benson prevented herself from throwing her phone at the wall. It was unlikely that Rollins was anywhere safe. Though the younger woman could be impulsive, she would never have left her partner alone at the mercy of a potentially murderous rapist and whatever Dean Winchester was.

Benson marched out of her office already announcing the latest predicament. "Rollins is gone. We're pretty damn sure this thing of yours has her."

Sam looked up, startled at the development. "I'm… I'm sorry. This is our fault. If we hadn't come—"

"—We'd still be chasing our tails trying to figure out this psychopath." Liv shook her head. "No, I'm grateful for your information as long as it pans out. Besides, whatever… whoever this guy is, he's got a member of the NYPD and we take care of our own. There won't be many places for him to hide."

"I do not see how you could find him," Castiel refuted, "even if you used all of your police officers. It would take days, weeks even, to cover every inch of this city from top to bottom."

"Then give me an idea. Something. He has both of our friends now."

The angel shrugged, his stillness belying the relentlessness of the intervening hours. According to Sam, the celestial being had healed several cuts and bruises, used a swipe of his arm to move the majority of the debris from their whiteboard area, then wiped the memories of his temper from anyone other than Benson and her squad. The lieutenant had dismissed nearly everyone afterwards, claiming, rightfully, that maintenance needed to repair the room before they could resume work. While she'd been handling that mess, the angel had walked up to the roof (breaking the chain link lock on the door with ease) and had apparently spent time listening to the city. After returning Castiel had taken to selecting files and criminal law books that were scattered about SVU headquarters with no apparent rhyme or reason to what he wanted to read.

Curious, Carisi stopped perusing an overlapping map of the city's sewage lines to ask, "I thought you needed rest."

"I do," Castiel replied. He peered at the detective, puzzled, from his stiff-backed perch on a nearby desk. "I am resting."

"Yeah, but… ah, never mind." The Italian Catholic shrugged. "Who am I to question an emissary of Our Lord?"

"Human."

"Excuse me?"

"You asked who you were to question me. You're human." The angel turned a page on his latest acquisition; a painstakingly detailed record of court documents from the 1980s. "I find most of you like to question everything even when the reasoning is perfectly clear. Dean and Evangeline do it often."

It was the first time since the elder of the Winchesters had left that Castiel had mentioned the woman, and the bite of his tone spoke volumes. While Sam and Benson conferred about the best way to go about hunting the monster down, Carisi decided to test a theory he'd been harboring. It would serve to distract him from his worry over Rollins. "So, this Evangeline. She sounds like a tough customer."

A page stilled halfway from being turned. "Yes."

"Known her long?"

"Several years now."

"What's she like?"

"Stubborn. Temperamental. Independent." A few moments passed as the angel slowly finished his aborted movement. "Selfless. Strong." Castiel paused. Softly, he added, "Beautiful."

"You care for her," Carisi said carefully.

"I love her."

It was told not with nonchalance, but as a firm statement of truth. "Don't you love all people? Like the Book says."

"The Bible gets many things wrong. I have a great admiration for humanity, but my brothers and sisters are not capable of loving everyone."

"So when you say you love this Evangeline…"

The angel's steely blue gaze lifted from the book and bore into Carisi. "What else could it mean? It means that I cherish her. I would kill for her. Die for her. And I know she would do the same for me."

Taken aback, the detective merely said, "Oh," and waited until Castiel had resumed reading before tearing his own eyes away.

For a boy brought up in the Catholic Church it was difficult to fathom that a representative of God would fixate on a single woman. The ubiquitous picture of a heavenly figure, his (or her) wings spread in welcome with supplicants kneeling before them in prayer, clashed with this angel's rather selfish conviction. There must be something else, Carisi decided, something special or inhuman about the woman. Or perhaps Castiel was lying; perhaps it was merely a tactic to allow them to concentrate on their case.

Castiel slapped the book he was reading closed. "I would like to see the body of Mariana Lopez."

"What for?" Benson asked, bemused.

"I may see something you missed."

"I assure you that our medical examiner does excellent work."

The angel frowned, but before he could antagonize the lieutenant with what would most likely be an insensitive comment towards their competence Sam quickly inserted, "A fresh set of eyes is never bad."

Eyebrows raised, Benson acquiesced. "Carisi, stay here with Sam, try and dig up more leads. I'll take Castiel down to see Warner."

"Got it, Lieu."

Amanda groaned, her face still throbbing. She hadn't thought twice when Carisi had showed up at their location with the excuse that Liv had sent the other detective to help out at the scene. The abnormality of the command struck her a moment too late; with the lieutenant having sent all but the four of them home she would have never left herself alone in the squad room with a suspect, let alone two. Rollins had swiveled around, hand reaching for her gun, only to have "Carisi" deliver a right hook to her cheek. The inhuman strength behind the blow had knocked her out cold.

Reflexively, Rollins tried to palm her face. It brought to bear her current physical predicament. Her hands were tied above her head, and when she looked up she found a rope dangling her down from a pipe on the ceiling. Panic overwhelmed the detective and she began pulling futilely against her restraints.

"Hey."

Amanda jerked her head towards the voice. A filthy bed with a metal headboard was pushed up against the opposite wall. In it lay a petite Asian woman, her long hair in disarray on the pillows. Blood had soaked the mattress underneath her, and the seeping slices on her body spoke to the source. Her clothing was in tatters, but the seasoned SVU detective noticed that while her breasts were exposed (and abused), her genitals were not. Small favors, she supposed.

"You okay?" the woman asked.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"This? This is nothing. Trust me."

Rollins shook her head. "Evangeline?"

Evangeline frowned. "And you are?"

"Detective Amanda Rollins. We've been looking for you."

"Well, looks like you won the prize."

The sardonic response was incongruent to the majority of victims Amanda had dealt with. "Aren't you scared?"

Evangeline gave a painful shrug, at least as much as she could do with her arms stretched as they were. "Sure, a little. And hurt. And bored. This fucker has no imagination."

Bewildered, Amanda could only repeat, "Imagination?"

"I've had worse." When the detective opened her mouth to ask about it, Evangeline promptly said, "Trust me. You don't want to know."

Unsettled, Amanda abandoned the query. "Do you know where he is?" she asked quietly.

No need for clarification; there was only one "he" the pair of them could be concerned about. "No." Evangeline shifted a bit on the bed. "If you know my name, you must have talked to… well…"

"The Winchesters," the detective supplied. "Yes."

"Oh. You know their real names." For the first time since they'd begun to talk, Evangeline's face softened. "Was there another guy with them? Dark hair, blue eyes? Trench coat?"

"Castiel?"

"He's there?"

Quietly, Amanda said, "He saved me."

Evangeline gave a little laugh. "He does that." She swallowed and Rollins could see the tears pricking the corners of the other woman's eyes. "Wish I could tell you him being there means this'll go faster. I've been praying at him for hours."

"He said something about you all being undetectable."

"That, and this motherfucker has the place warded."

"Warded?"

"I'm not stupid," came Carisi's stolen voice. Both of the women's eyes snapped towards the shifter as he emerged from a dark corridor. "I've been around long enough to know who the Winchesters are and who they hang around with."

Repulsed, Rollins leaned back as the shapeshifter came towards her. "Hey, Amanda. How's it hangin'?"

"Go to hell."

"Sorry, sweetheart. Ain't where we end up."

The expression of undisguised lust twisted Carisi's features into a disturbing mask. "You women. Rejecting those closest to you to save your own precious hearts. Even though you keep putting him off, this guy still keeps his hopes up. You know Sonny jacks off to you sometimes?" He licked his lips and closed his eyes. "Mmm… When you're bendin' over that desk o'yours—"

"He's lying," Evangeline snapped.

"Shut up!"

More convinced by the thing's denial than Evangeline's affirmation, Rollins let go of her disgust. She had no delusions where the male members of the NYPD were concerned; a lot of them looked, but none of them pushed, and if Carisi entertained a thought or two he respected her too much to disturb their current relationship. The thing was trying to goad her, and she'd be damned if she'd let that happen, inhuman or not.

Amanda settled for silence, and when a few more obscene comments failed to produce a response the creature resorted to violence. His knuckles cracked across her cheek, breaking the skin and causing her vision to go momentarily black. Through the roar in her ears the detective could vaguely make out the sound of Evangeline's laughing derision and the shapeshifter's angry reply. By the time Rollins' vision cleared, the thing was straddling Eva's hips and pointing a knife at her chin. "Go on!" it screamed. "Mock me again!"

Rather than be cowed, Evangeline craned her head up and snarled, "Eat me, you piece of shit. You've had me hours and can't get it up. You can't even get it up for the blonde with the nice tits. You're just a stupid, limp son of a bitch."

After throwing the knife into a far corner the shapeshifter wrenched Evangeline's head to one side and whispered something in her ear. Revulsion and apprehension clouded the woman's face for a moment before her bravado returned. The monster sat upright and smirked.

Then, to Amanda's horror, Evangeline gave it a smirk of her own. With two little words, the woman veritably sealed her fate.

"Prove it."

The victim had been young. Castiel wished the coroner hadn't already done her examination; he might have been able to bring her back. Then again, he might not. His powers waxed and waned of late, particularly after the other angels had been cast from Heaven. Whatever he contained needed to be saved to rescue Evangeline.

Castiel turned the girl's hand over. He bent down, drawing the limb to his nose, but was arrested by a shocked, "Hey!" Melinda Warner shoved him upright by his shoulder. "Have some respect."

"There is no one inside this body," the angel explained tersely. "The soul has fled."

"That doesn't give you the right—"

"Melinda," Benson said quietly. "Just let him be. I promise I'll explain later."

The doctor hesitated for a moment before stepping away. Castiel completed his interrupted investigation and sniffed the woman's hand. "Chili powder."

"What?" asked the confused lieutenant.

"Chili powder," he repeated. "Galangal. Lemongrass. Garlic. Basil."

"She ordered Thai?" Dr. Warner asked, incredulous. "How is that important?"

The angel gently put the girl's hand down onto the table. "No. There are minuscule remnants of these things in her skin. She was held at a place where these spices are used so often they permeate the air."

"I didn't find any Thai food in her stomach."

"I did not say she ate it. I said that the area she was kept in was suffused with it."

"Are you sure it wasn't from the garbage we found her in?" the lieutenant queried.

"No. She has been washed clean of most of the filth. To have settled so deeply she would have had to been exposed to it for a prolonged period."

"That actually might narrow down our search. Thank you."

Castiel nodded and turned towards the door, but when Benson made to follow the doctor pulled on her sleeve. "Now hold on—"

"We don't have time for this," the angel growled, frustrated by all these humans' tendency to constantly question. If Amanda Rollins was now missing, then she was with the shapeshifter, and he knew his Evangeline all too well. Whatever horrors the monster might want to inflict on the unknowing detective, the hunter would redirect upon herself. They needed to find both women now.

Swiftly, Castiel reached out with two fingers and tapped Warner on the forehead. She collapsed, much to the surprise of the lieutenant. "What did you do?" Benson cried as she knelt down to check on the coroner.

"She is sleeping. And I will not wait for you much longer."

With great effort, Olivia made herself stand. Carisi had pulled her aside right before they'd left the squad room with the doubtful supposition that this celestial being might care deeply for the missing woman. Even though his mannerisms were strange, if not outright rude, the seasoned detective could recognize the signs of a loved one in distress. "All right," she said calmly. "Just let me make her comfortable and we will go."

"Fine."

"You could help."

Despite all religious presumptions of celestial patience the angel rolled his eyes. They carried Melinda to her office and the couch she kept within. "She will wake in a few hours," Castiel explained stiffly before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

Exasperated, Benson lifted her eyes up to the Heavens. As she hurried after the quickly disappearing trench coat, the lieutenant asked the Almighty why in the world He'd sent this particular angel to prove to her that they were real?

Next time He needed to send someone who was, at the very least, polite.