The Best of Kansas

Play the Game Tonight

Sam ran his hands through his hair for what had to be the hundredth time, reaching for his coffee cup only to find it empty. He could have sworn he refilled it not two minutes earlier. Did that mean he had been researching long enough to legitimize a break?

"Garcia?"

Sam looked up to see Spencer answering his phone, his finger halfway down the page he had been reading. If he's taking a break, so am I. So, that answered that question.

"Woah, woah, what? Calm down, calm down. Start from the beginning."

Sam inclined his head toward Spencer, the conversation quickly growing interesting.

"Uh, no, I didn't check it. I've been researching." Spencer looked at the clock. "Wait, now? Right now?" He looked at Sam. "Where is Sioux Falls Regional Airport?"

Sam blinked, caught off-guard, his hand halfway to the fridge. "Uh, I—I don't know, like, an hour away?"

"Crap." Spencer jumped to his feet, rushing for the door. "I'll be there in an hour, just—just hold on, and stop freaking out, and explain from the beginning." He stopped in the doorway, looking at Sam like he wanted to say something, but the federal techie on the other end of the line was still talking. "I—" he pulled the phone away from his mouth, "I'll explain as soon as I can. Emergency."

Just like that, Spencer was gone, and Sam was alone in the kitchen with their research materials. For the barest moment, he considered being frustrated with Spencer for ditching when they had apocalyptically large problems to sort out—problems Spencer was determined could be fixed in a way that let everybody win—but he quickly cast the notion aside.

If Spencer was dropping everything and running, it had to be important. It had to be family, which Sam was pretty sure Garcia was, and it had to be serious. Spencer didn't just bail.

So, Sam heaved a sigh but accepted the situation for what it was, grabbing a beer and sliding back into his chair to continue the arduous task of looking into everything under the sun.

Not three minutes later, Sam's phone was ringing, Castiel's caller ID peeking up at him from the tabletop. Sam answered, holding the phone between his head and shoulder so he could open his drink.

"Hey, Cas. What's up?"

"You would have to be more specific. 'Up' is a relative term, and seeing as I don't know exactly where you are right now, it's hard to say what would—"

Sam took a swig and sighed. "Just tell me why you called, Cas."

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Castiel cleared his throat. "I'm still looking for Gabriel, but I have a feeling he won't be found until he wants to be. I did run into a couple neutral parties and someone interested in helping."

"Really?" Sam actually perked up at that. It had been two weeks since Spencer showed up on their doorstep, and they hadn't made very much progress. "Who is it?"

"His name is Samandriel. We've never fought side by side—he isn't strictly a warrior by trade—but he's competent and trustworthy." Castiel's voice crackled out for a moment. "I asked him to stay in touch, as I don't yet know what it is we'll need from those willing to help us."

Sam let himself breathe a little, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, every little bit helps. We're in a better place than we were two weeks ago."

"Agreed," Castiel bit back, and his words held a far greater deal of anger than he typically let on.

Sam pressed his lips together for a moment. "You, uh... you're going to have to talk to Dean about this sometime."