August 8th, 2014
"Call if you need anything, and don't you dare think about dying." Dean said, hugging me tight. When he eventually released me I got in my car, started the engine and drove away from my home ,the Bunker.
Yesterday Sam said my weapons skills were up to the level of his and Dean, signifying the end of my hunter training. I had brought the boys back to life on more than one occasion, talked them out of sticky situations, rescued charlie from a djinn, and locked a whole host of angels in hell, so my magic was definitely up to par where it needed to be. So today I left to start my journey as a Man of Letters. I was looking for extraordinary boys and girls to renew the ranks of the men of letters.
Starting September, the Bunker would be a Man of Letters academy of sorts. Me and Kevin had written curriculum for the four classes the students would take. Practical Information which was basically lore, potions, and the organisation of the archives, taught by Kevin. Hunting was pretty much P.E. and learning how to fake being an FBI agent, taught by Sam. Letters Basics was magic, inventing and being a good point of contact, that was my class. Life Skills was just basic stuff like buying houses and computer skills and taxes, taught by Charlie, since she was the only one with experience in that field. Now all we needed were students.
Charlie hacked the SAT website and found all the kids that got perfect score. Then she found their IP addresses and found, based on their web histories, which ones might still believe in the otherworldly and like to join the Men of Letters.
So now I was going to recruit them. I was posing as a recruiter for a super elite college. Charlie had a heyday creating all the websites and fake professors and fake alumni. It's a school for "future UN secret service agents." We were calling it The Bunker College. I would pitch that to the parents, but tell the recruits the truth. Then they could decide if they wanted to go or not.
I was also recruiting Men of Letters descendants. Since it was originally a family business, it felt wrong to leave the rightful heirs out of the program. For them, I would tell them the truth. Most of the descendants are great grand children of Men of Letters. Some of them are as young as 13 years old.
I had around thirty descendants, fifteen recruits, and a handful of kids and teens Sam and Dean knew. I was going to start with a house of teen hunters that Sam and Dean recommended. They lived in Conway Springs, which was around 3 hours from the Bunker.
I would have be wearing flannel when meeting them , to appear like a hunter, but it was August in Kansas so I opted for a back tank top and light jeans. I hadn't noticed before, but during my training, my arms had gotten really buff. I was, however, pale as a sheet. Thats what you get when the only time you are outside is grocery shopping. I looked approachable and friendly, and that was all I really needed.
I mindlessly drove to the address the boys had provided me and parked in front. I got out, pushed my sunglasses up on top of my head, and walked up to the front door.