Could Be Dangerous (Destiel)

Chapter 19

It is hard to make a plan when you don't know the place of where you are, and also only have five seconds to figure it out. The sun was setting fast. I had a knife and a gun on me, Cas had a knife. That was it. Then we walked down the corridor, holding hands. He was shaky and couldn't stop glancing over at him. I was worried. And I wonder if he is remembering things. The pathway seemed like it went forever. Until it opened out into a big room.

By big I mean massive. Stone walls all the way around, balcony wrapped around most of the room, making a U. People flooded the room. Some were chit-chatting. Some were walking around. Some played music. It was like a giant party. But it was gloomy, and scary. Like a place you shouldn't be unless you were invited.

"Alright, let's fine this guy." I say to Cas. "Should we split up?"
He shook his head fast, shooting the suggestion down. "People are noticing us."
I look around again, and notice quickly they are.
"Walk."

We walk around for a while, then start asking random people if they know Aaron Butcher. They all shake their head, half listening. Step by step on the stone ground, my stomach getting tighter each step. Something isn't right. Something isn't right. I squeeze Cas' hand without thinking, the comfort of him helps. As we walk to our next target I see something strange. That makes the scene even more crazy and stomach knotting. I swear I saw Lucas. He was walking under the balcony. But before I get a second look he disappears in one of the doorways. Now I just want out. I want out of this place as far away as possible and to never come back.

"What's wrong?" Cas looks at me with worried eyes, his bottom lip quivering.
"Let's just find the guy and go, please." And with that we pick up our pace.

Castiel pulls me over to some random guy. He has a beard that isn't too well kept and his eyes are dark. He looks like a poor, drunk, who just lost his dog. "Excuse me sir, but I am looking for a guy named Aaron Butcher...would you happen to know him?" Cas has the nicest voice ever. It isn't alarming in anyway and shows no sign of fear.
"I might...who's asking?" The guy seemed to grow bulkier just by saying that. Like he would knock us both out if we gave him the wrong answer.
"Mr. Novak, sir." Cas holds himself fearlessly, like he's ready for anything.
The strange man stares at Castiel for a long time. As if he's reading his mind. And I can't tell whether he is going to throw a punch or shrug him off. I just wish he'd hurry up and speak.
And as if he read my mind, he does. "Hello Mr. Novak, I'm Aaron Butcher. I'll take you to my office." Then he glances around a few times, do I see worry in his face? He waves his hand at us to follow.

We walk to one of the hallways that go outside of the giant room. Halfway down I notice that it is not an exit because there is a very high fence, which must be surrounding the building.

"Who is your companion, Novak?"
"This is my co-worker. Mr. Smith. He is trustworthy."
"How do I know you aren't bluffing?" He turns and glares at us both.
Cas takes a breath in and says: "You can call in and ask about him if you'd like."
More silence and staring.

It feels like it's been five minutes of this already when finally Aaron breaks into a smirk. Then he turns to the door, which is old and barely black.

We walk into his "office" which is really just a crappy living area. Apartment, or something. It's all one big room. Kitchen, bed, and living room. His place is a wreck and wreaks. his couch is torn up and there are clothes everywhere. And food. Gross.

"Take a seat if you like, get comfy." I glance at Cas. Who is looking around. "I'll be right back. Your package is in another room." He exits swiftly.

"I don't like this." I say.
"Yeah, me neither. I'm just glad I have you this time." He sighs as if he's been holding his breath. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."
And I notice he is red and sweaty. I go to Aaron's beaten up couch and clean off a spot for Cas. He sits down and bends over, placing his head in his hands. "Fuck." He mutters.