Castiel Novak sips his morning coffee as he goes through a fresh issue of USA Today. The title in big and bold font gets his attention and the detective bangs his fist on the table, cursing. It says "Police Searching for Passaic Bank Robbery Suspect" and there is a picture of the man underneath.

"Damn it!" Castiel throws the newspaper aside. He has been chasing this man for five bloody years, never managing to catch him. The man's name is Dean Winchester and he's a clever, sly and dexterous son of a bitch. During these five years he has managed to rob more than sixty banks in twenty-four states, never getting caught. It felt like it was a big, entertaining game for the criminal, if all the winking and waving at security cameras were anything to go by.

"I'll get you, Dean Winchester. A tiny mistake, that's what will ruin you," Castiel mumbles to himself, looking out of his office window.

He could've become a fortuneteller had he not been an FBI agent. As he has predicted three months ago, Dean Winchester makes one small but fatal mistake. And that's how he gets arrested.

It happens in Springfield, PA, on June 14th, 2010. Wells Fargo Bank happens to be Dean's next target.

Everything goes perfectly, until one of the hostages goes into labor from the stress of the mass hysteria and chaos. No one understands why Dean lets the woman and her husband leave the building. But it does not matter as exactly seven minutes later police cars appear and block the street, the entrances and exits of the bank building. Her husband must've informed the police department.

When police officers, including the FBI agent Castiel Novak rush in, Dean Winchester stands alone in the middle of the hall. The hostages are nowhere to be seen, probably locked somewhere else.

"Freeze! Drop your weapon!" Castiel points his gun at the criminal, who is smirking at him.

"Or what? You're gonna blow my brains out?" Dean asks, his hands still raised with a gun in one of them.

"I am afraid I'll be forced to do that if you don't obey and attempt to escape," Castiel informs him.

The voice sends electric shivers down the criminal's spine and he licks his lips. "Why don't I make it easier for you, agent Novak?"

With these words he lowers his hand and presses the gun to his temple.

"See you on the other side." He chuckles and pulls the trigger. There's just a small click, nothing else.

"The fuck?" Dean mumbles and looks at the cops. "You won't get me alive!" He barks at them and tries again. No luck this time either.

Castiel uses Dean's confusion to his advantage and before the criminal comes out of his stupor, with lightning speed grabs his leather jacket and throws him into the nearest wall. He slams Dean's hand against the wall, making the robber drop his weapon.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law," Castiel growls warningly and turns the younger man around, pressing him to the wall harder and handcuffing him at the same time.
Dean feels himself getting hard from Castiel's gravely voice and this little rough game. He had fantasized about this blue-eyed man with disheveled hair that always looked as if he'd just come from someone's bed.

The green-eyed man bites his lip and moans. "Your dick."

"Excuse me?" Castiel asks, somewhat puzzled.

"You may use your dick against me, agent Novak," Dean whispers hoarsely.

As the cops are dragging Dean out and Castiel tries to calm his rapid heartbeat after hearing Dean's words, the criminal gives him a mischievous look over his shoulder and winks at him.

"Wait," Castiel calls to the cops. His mouth is dry as if he has not drunk water for days. The cops stop at the open door and it's good that all the noise is coming in from the street, that no one, except Dean will hear the words which Novak whispers to him:

"Yeah, later."