iris, supernatural [ 2 ]

075. christmastime

Larissa sits by while Sam is on the phone with Garth who is where Michael is, trying to figure out the archangel's plan.

"No, Garth." The urgency and slight panic in Sam's voice making Larissa look up. "Garth?" He lowers his phone.

"Garth, huh? He'll be okay. He's fooled Michael this far, right?" Dean asks.

"Dean, I pulled him out of retirement for an undercover mission. If something happens to him, it's on me." Sam says.

"Okay. Hey, look... Naomi gave us Michael's location, okay? We got a spy on the inside. For a change, we're a step ahead." Dean says. "And given everything we've pulled off lately, I like our odds."

They look over and Cas walks in.

"It's Ketch." The angel says. The four walk over to where Jack is sitting at the map table and on video call with Ketch on the laptop.

"Mm. Valko's compound was a breeze, as it turned out." Ketch says, taking a sip of tea. "Jammed the security system from the outside, sedated the guard dogs -- Rottweilers, naturally."

"Ketch." Dean says.

"Hey. You have it?" Sam asks.

"Sam, Dean, Larissa. What, no "hellos," "how are yous"?" Ketch asks.

"No time." Dean says.

"The egg, Ketch." Cas says.

"And as I was just telling Jack, I did, in fact, manage to expropriate the egg from a certain Hungarian rare weapons collector." Ketch says.

"Yeah, uh, uh, Arpad Valko. W-We got the messages, but so?" Sam asks.

"Unfortunately, once I got back to Budapest, where I was intending to catch the red-eye back to the good ole U.S. of A., he unleashed a swarm of mercenaries upon me. I was cornered and so I was forced to, I'm afraid, drop the egg like, well, to mix a metaphor, like a hot potato."

"You dropped it?" Cas asks.

"Never you mind, boys and lady. I put it somewhere safe. In fact, it should be arriving in Lebanon, Kansas, the day after tomorrow between, mm... 2:00 and 6:00 P.M." Ketch informs.

"You put the only weapon we have against Michael in the mail?" Dean asks.

"Ah, not just any pail. I paid extra. Certified Priority Express." Ketch says.

"He paid extra." Dean notes.

"Look, I improvised. It's not as if I have access to the top shelf clandestine courier networks I did during my British Men of Letters days. And really, so, whose fault is that, hmm?" Ketch asks.

"Okay, okay. Ketch, we're-we're not mad, w-we appreciate the effort." Sam says.

"Seriously?" Larissa quietly asks.

"Do we?" Dean asks in an angry tone.

"It's just that big Michael stuff is going down soon. We-we-- we kind of needed the egg now." Sam says, nervously chuckling.

"Oh. Well, um... sorry, chaps." Ketch says.

~ ~ ~

"Well?" Dean asks his brother.

"It's not far. It's being held at a hub facility in Joplin, Missouri." Sam says. "Apparently, it would've made it to Lebanon if it weren't closed for the holiday."

"Well, if they're closed." Cas says.

"Means we can get it." Sam says.

"How?" Jack asks.