A/N: Based on another prompt from Miyth of Ketch working with the boys to find Mary and treating Cas like crap. The fact that it's a sequel to your other prompt is just a fun yet fitting coincidence. *g*

Also, I'm going to be posting a one shot tomorrow. I know Tuesday's not my normal one shot day, but with the Raising Amy chapters having become such a regular Wednesday thing, I thought I'd spread updates out a bit, especially when the standalone fics are long.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!

Chapter 1

Dean stared at the board of news clippings, maps, and Kelly Kline's picture that was set up in the war room. Only a week ago he'd grumbled about Cas not finding any leads on Rosemary and her baby, but after joining the search himself, they still had nothing. Seriously, how did this woman with no resources just drop off the map like this?

"Yeah, okay, thanks," Sam said, cell pressed to his ear where he sat at the map table. He set the phone down with a clunk. "So, Tony said he looked into the cattle deaths out in Bakersfield, and it was just a run-of-the-mill demon. No sign of Kelly."

Dean shook his head in frustration and removed the thumbtack they'd stuck on that part of the map when they'd first caught wind of the typical demonic omen. Another non-lead.

Cas came into the room, bearing two cups of steaming coffee. He handed one to Dean.

"Bakersfield was a bust," Sam informed him.

"I heard," Cas replied, and handed Sam the second cup.

The angel was doing that kind of thing a lot lately, now that he'd fully recovered from the spell that had exorcised and nearly killed him. It'd taken quite a few doses of soul energy from Dean and Sam to get him back on his feet, but neither Winchester regretted that. Dean just hoped Cas's recent attentiveness was more out of brotherly reciprocation, and not a sense of debt.

"We're chasing our tails here," he grumbled. They needed another approach, though he had no clue what that might be.

Cas let out a long, weary sounding sigh. "Perhaps as the nephilim grows there will be more…signs."

Sam grimaced.

Yeah, more signs didn't mean things like rainbows or money falling from the sky. And the closer Lucifer's baby came to term, the more complicated the situation would get. They didn't even know when the thing was due to pop.

The upstairs door grating open interrupted any further talk on the problem, however. Dean instinctively tensed because everyone who lived in the bunker was already there…

His spine went rigid even as his jaw fell slack at the sight of Ketch strolling across the causeway. Sam surged to his feet with equal alarm.

"What the…how the hell did you get in here?" Dean demanded.

Ketch paused at the top of the stairs, flicking an unbothered look back at the door. "I have a key," he said matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?"

Ketch frowned. "Well, this is a Men of Letters bunker…my key opens all the chapter houses across the world. As does yours."

Dean's brows shot upward. Wait, seriously?

"What are you doing here?" Cas asked with unbridled suspicion.

"Yeah," Dean added. "Just because you have a key doesn't mean you can just come barging into our home."

"Technically, it's my home too," the man replied with that posh accent as he descended the steps. "But I'm here because I need your help."

Sam raised his own brows dubiously. "Our help?"

"I believe the matter would concern you," Ketch said. "You see, your mother was on a hunt recently and has gone missing."

Dean just stared at the Brit for a frozen beat, having trouble processing that. Once his brain caught up, however, the fury erupted. "How the hell do you know what our mom's been up to?"

Ketch arched a manicured brow. "Oh, didn't she tell you? Mary has been working with us for the past several weeks."

Dean exchanged a bewildered look with Sam. What?

They'd known Mom had been hunting again, which seemed weird since she'd wanted out of the life, but no, she'd never said anything about working with the British Men of Letters dicks. They'd tortured Sam and tried to kill the rest of them, for crying out loud! And fine, maybe they'd provided the device that helped them finally bag Lucifer, and helped Cas and Mom find Dean and Sam when they escaped the government detention facility, but that did not make up for the other stuff.

How could she team up with them like that? And not tell her own sons?

Dean pushed his questions and feelings of hurt and betrayal aside as he returned to the one salient detail that mattered at the moment, and that was Mom was missing.

"What was she hunting?" he asked.

"Well, that's the problem," Ketch hedged. "We weren't sure what the monster was, only that people were going missing. We sent Mary to investigate. I would have gone with her, but I was cleaning up another matter and she insisted she could handle it." He paused, a glint in his eyes. "Your mother is quite…impressive."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the douchebag, and suddenly wanted to throw up.

"Where did she go missing?" Cas spoke up.

"La Clure, Virginia," Ketch answered. "So I suggest we get going."

Dean gritted his teeth. He didn't really relish the thought of working with this asshat, but Mom was in trouble. Even though she didn't seem to want to be part of his and Sam's lives, she was still their mom.

And that meant Dean would drop everything to find her.

La Clure, Virginia was a coastal town with a major harbor for shrimping boats. Which meant that every restaurant window had a sign boasting the "best" seafood in the area, albeit each with their own signature twist.

Sam stood leaning against the Impala outside the diner they'd stopped at to change into their FBI threads. He and Dean, anyway. Cas of course didn't need to change. And Ketch was also always wearing a suit, even under his motorcycle jacket. He didn't even have helmet hair after the long drive. Whatever.

While they were waiting for Dean to come out, Sam piggybacked the diner's WiFi and started going through local news reports. Three people had gone missing over the past month, no bodies recovered. Which probably ruled out vampire or werewolf, since those monsters didn't tend to clean up after themselves so well. Still, they couldn't dismiss those for certain yet.

The diner's door opened and Dean stepped out. "Shrimp burger, really?" he said dubiously. "Why would you pair shrimp with beef?"

Sam briefly looked up to throw his brother a disbelieving look. "Says the guy who ate the Elvis and liked it."

Dean paused, but then canted his head in acknowledgement.

"We're not here to sample the local cuisine," Ketch interjected testily.

"Relax," Dean rejoined. "We know how to do our job."

"Okay, get this," Sam said, scrolling through a recent article. "A local was attacked in the woods around the time that Mom went missing. There's only speculation on what did it; guy was apparently unable to give much of a statement."

"But he's alive?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Was treated for minor injuries and shock at the hospital before being released. Hang on…" Sam opened another browser window, did some quick hacking. "Got his address."

"Alright, we'll start there," Dean said. He took one step toward the Impala, but then spun around and fixed Ketch with a fierce look. "And we'll handle the talking."

The Brit merely arched a brow and shrugged it off as though it didn't matter to him one way or the other.

They drove separately to the victim's house. Ketch's bike made as much of a ruckus as the Impala, and Sam had never felt more out of place as "FBI agents" then he did now. It was a wonder they didn't get called on their choice of transportation more often. Not that they couldn't talk their way out of anything. Or into anything.

Sam got his badge ready as he knocked on the victim's door. It was opened by a young woman in a loose fitting sweater and hair pulled back in a messy bun. She immediately frowned upon seeing four men on her doorstep.

"Yes?" she asked nervously, one arm drifting up to her neck in a self-conscious gesture.

"Hi," Sam replied. "We're with the FBI. We're looking into a series of missing persons cases in the area, and we understand that a Jason Hart was attacked in the woods. Is he here?"

"He's my boyfriend," she said. "The police already talked to him."

"I know," Sam gently coaxed. "And I know this is a difficult time, but we really need to hear what happened from Jason."

"He doesn't remember much."

"Whatever he does remember could really help us," Dean put in. "Another person has gone missing."

She bit her bottom lip, but stepped back and held the door open for them. "Jason's in the living room."

Sam gave her a thankful nod as he moved past and into the den, the others following behind. Four definitely felt like a crowd.

Jason was a young man in his 20s, though the bags under his eyes and stress lines around his mouth made him look older. He was dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, hair mussed, and there was a pile of tangled blankets on the couch next to him. An array of tiny scratches covered his face and arms.

"Mr. Hart?" Sam greeted. "I'm Agent Hathaway, FBI. These are my colleagues. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Jason shifted on the sofa as though thinking about standing, but either he changed his mind or couldn't muster the energy. "I'm sorry, agents, I really don't have anything to tell you."

"Let's start with the last thing you remember doing before the attack," Sam suggested.

Jason shook his head in clear frustration. "I went for a run on the beach like I always do."

"And?"

"And that's the last thing I remember."

Dean frowned. "But you were found off the highway in the woods, two miles inland."

"Well, I have no idea how I got there," Jason snipped. "The next thing I knew, I was in the back of an ambulance." He dropped his head into his hands, fingers digging into his scalp.

Sam gave him a sympathetic grimace. He'd obviously been traumatized.

Ketch cleared his throat. "Agents, may I have a word?"

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, but nevertheless followed Ketch back out into the foyer while Jason's girlfriend moved in to comfort him.

Ketch looked pointedly at Cas and lowered his voice. "Angel, just read his mind and get the information we need."

Sam shot him an incredulous look. "What? That's a little invasive, don't you think?"

"We're not getting anywhere with this. Your mother could be in grave danger."

"Don't lecture us about our mom," Dean snapped under his breath. "And his name is Cas." Softening his tone, he turned to said angel. "Can you do that?"

Cas's mouth pinched. "Yes."

"Great," Ketch said. "Then hop to it."

Sam's gaze hardened on the Brit; he was developing a strong dislike for Arthur Ketch.

The lines around Cas's eyes tightened as he delivered his own glower, but he turned without another word and walked back into the living room.

Jason looked up expectantly. "I'm sorry, I really do wish I could help."

"There's a…special technique, I'd like to try," Cas said hesitantly, coming to stand before him.

Jason quirked a confused look up at him. "Meaning what?"

Cas rolled his shoulder. "Um…"

"Hypnosis," Dean put in. "Or something like it. Just close your eyes and think back to that moment where you're running on the beach."

"Yes," Cas picked up, shooting Dean a grateful glance. "Visualize yourself running on the beach."

Ketch rolled his eyes impatiently. "You don't need the facade," he hissed in Sam's ear. "The angel can just erase their memories once finished."

Sam clenched his fist. "Just shut up," he muttered back. He gestured for the girlfriend to step away and give Jason some space, which she did, albeit reluctantly.

"Good," Cas said in a calm intonation. "Just keep that image. Your feet pounding out a steady rhythm in the sand. The sound of the ocean's waves."

Sam watched Jason's shoulders gradually loosen and his breathing even out. Cas then raised two fingers to the man's forehead.

"Tell me what you see," Cas instructed.

"I see…the beach," Jason replied. "And the waves, like you said. It's overcast."

"What kind of technique is this?" the girlfriend asked.

"Tactile anchoring," Sam answered.

She looked doubtful, and crossed her arms.

Cas pulled back a minute later, and Jason blinked up at him.

"Uh, I still didn't remember anything…"

"That's alright," Cas assured him. "Sometimes the method can have a delayed effect. Call if anything comes to mind."

Dean withdrew one of their business cards and handed it to Jason. Both he and his girlfriend continued to give them bewildered looks as they excused themselves and made their way outside.

"What did you see?" Ketch demanded as soon as they'd returned to the curb where their vehicles were parked.

Cas sighed. "Unfortunately, the trauma of what he experienced has left his mind a jumbled mess. All I was able to see of his memories were flashes, but they did include a blond woman dragging him through the woods before being ripped away." He paused. "I believe that was Mary. Jason Hart then tripped and fell down an incline onto the highway where he was discovered."

Sam sucked in a breath. "So Mom must have rescued him from whatever's been snatching people."

"And it sounds like it got her instead," Dean growled.

"I suggest our next stop be your mother's hotel room," Ketch said. "Perhaps she was able to gather information on what she was hunting before being taken."

Sam shared a look with his brother; it was a good next move.

Dean grumbled something unintelligible, then straightened sharply. "Wait, how do you know where she was staying?"

"She used a Men of Letters credit card, of course."

Sam couldn't say why that curdled his stomach. Mom was working with the Brits, which meant she got to use all their fancy toys and resources. It shouldn't bother him.

But it did.

Ketch led the way on his motorcycle to a hotel a block from the beach. When they pulled into the parking lot, both Sam and Dean stared at the establishment in slack-jawed awe—it had a freakin' fountain in the courtyard and potted plants by the double glass doors to the lobby. This was the kind of place that served breakfast that wasn't tiny boxes of dry cereal and coffee in cardboard cartons. Neither of them had ever stayed in a place this nice.

"Wow," Dean uttered. "Guess all this time I've been worrying about Mom hunting, and she's living life better than us."

Sam frowned at his brother's tone, but then Dean was exiting the Impala, followed by Cas. Sam scrambled out after them.

"Isn't that Mom's car?" he asked, nodding to the blue coupe parked a few spaces down.

Dean's jaw visibly tightened. "Yeah."

"I'll go see about procuring an additional key to her room," Ketch said.

"This place strikes me as the type to require more than fake FBI credentials," Cas said doubtfully.

"Of course. But my name is also on the account used to rent it," Ketch replied as though that were obvious.

Cas squinted after the man as he strode toward the lobby.

"I can't believe Mom is working with that douche," Dean groused.

"Just because she's working with him doesn't mean she likes him," Sam said, but the protest was half-hearted. After all, why work with someone you didn't like? Why work with the British Men of Letters at all?

Well, for Sam and Dean, at least, they didn't have a choice. They trailed after Ketch into the fancy hotel and waited while he spoke to a clerk behind the receptionist counter. A few moments later, he turned around and raised his eyebrows at the three of them, then headed toward the elevator. They followed.

Mom's room was on the second floor, and Sam was immediately struck with how…luxurious, it looked. Like, this was not the type of place hunters set up base at on a hunt. Yeah, money was often a factor for the Winchesters, but it wasn't just that. Hunts were messy and grimy and often bloody, and you couldn't just waltz back into a place with real security cameras and pristine white bed sheets to clean up afterward.

Dean was also gazing around the room distastefully, likely thinking the same. There was an open suitcase on one of those foldout benches, a hair dryer on the sink, still plugged into the wall. And on the small round table in the corner were lots of papers and lore books.

"Why don't you two start going through Mary's notes while I take the angel out to where this recent victim was found," Ketch said. "Try to retrace his path through the woods."

Dean stiffened, eyes darkening. "Excuse me? He's not a bloodhound. And for the last time, his name is Cas."

Ketch rolled his eyes. "Fine, yes. But we need to be exhausting every avenue. Your mother could be running out of time."

Sam's chest burned with blossoming ire. He was getting really tired of Ketch holding their mom's life over their heads, like they didn't get how serious this was, or want to do everything in their power to get her back.

"Then me and Cas can go, and you help Sam with research," Dean said.

"We're wasting time arguing."

"Then don't argue."

"It's fine, Dean," Cas spoke up. "I will go with him."

"Excellent," Ketch said. He scooped a set of car keys off the dresser. "We can take Mary's car. Do call if you find anything," he said to the brothers as he headed for the door.

Sam gritted his teeth. Ketch's treatment of Cas was infuriating, but he seemed to treat everyone else not far above servants, too.

Dean grabbed Cas's arm as the angel started to follow. "Cas, why are you putting up with that crap?" he hissed.

Cas's mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I will put up with it if it helps us find Mary. And once we get her back, I won't have to put up with it anymore."

Dean huffed. "Just, watch your back. I don't trust the guy."

"He has been helpful in the past," Cas pointed out, but then his expression softened in understanding. "And I will be careful."

With that, he turned and headed out after the British dickbag.

Sam didn't like it any more than his brother did, but Cas was right; they had to find Mom before it was too late. He turned his attention to the notes on the table.

"I can't believe she didn't tell us," Dean muttered as he started picking through the papers.

Sam's chest constricted. He was hurt and confused by Mom's actions too, but he'd always had a little bit of distance, having never known her before. Dean was the one who'd had a harder time reconciling the woman who'd been resurrected with the mom in his memories.

"She must have had a reason," Sam offered.

Dean snorted. "A good reason to lie to us? A good reason to work with the bastards that tortured you? Yeah, I'd love to hear what reason she had for that."

Sam suppressed a sigh. Things were not gonna be easy once this was over.

But the important thing was they get Mom back first. Then they could deal with the emotional fallout of recent revelations.