All was silent in 221B Baker Street. The sun was still rising when Mark and Anita tiptoed past the sleeping forms of all the other rescued borrowers, careful not to disturb anyone.
As much as they appreciated Sam and Dean's kindness and hospitality, it was time they moved on. They didn't necessarily have a home after so long in captivity, but the twins were confident in each other, and were determined to never be separated again.
It took the last couple of days to recover their strength and find enough material to fashion a couple of simple sling bags to start themselves off, and now they planned on quickly raiding the humans' cupboard before striking out on their own. It wouldn't do to betray the delicate trust they'd gained from the brothers by making off with any of their food. No self-respecting borrower stole from another. What the humans didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Anita got herself into position to move the block that covered the door and led to the walls when a faint knock sounded from the other side.
Identical bright green eyes met, both siblings at a loss for what to. This wasn't their house, and as far as they could tell, the Winchesters didn't seem like the type to get visitors often.
"Hello-o," a young woman called through the wood. "I know you're there, I need to talk to whoever lives here, please."
Another look was shared between the twins, and after much deliberation Anita decided to move the block out of the way. She and Mark were strong, together especially. If this person was about to cause trouble, they could take her.
They were both caught off guard when they got a good look at the visitor. She was much shorter than either twin, just barely claiming three and a half inches tall, and looked younger than they'd expected from her tone of voice. They doubted she was even twenty yet, and with her slim figure and her dark hair cut into a short bob, they'd almost call her unimposing. That is, if it weren't for her eyes: stern but kind, well worn and an unusual deep violet. The strange woman somehow commanded respect while giving off an impression of harmlessness that made her seem trustworthy right away.
The woman beamed at Anita and Mark. "Morning!" she chirped, bright and energetic despite the early hour, striding right past the bemused twins and into the house like she owned the place. "Hope I'm in the right place. This is two-two-one Baker Street, correct?"
"Hang on!" Mark finally snapped out of his confused stupor, reaching out to grab one of the stranger's skinny arms before she could go any further into Sam and Dean's home. She turned to acknowledge the hand grabbing her, but didn't seem afraid when she looked up to meet his gaze.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded. He wasn't about to let anyone be tricked by this woman, like he was once forced to do for Euan. Anita edged up behind Mark, equally tense and ready to spring into action if needed.
The woman blinked up at Mark, a touch of sadness flashing in her eyes before she was strictly down to business once more. "I'm Zepheera," she answered, "and I'm here to help."
The sound from the three by the passage to the kitchen was enough to rouse another visitor in the Winchesters' home; their erstwhile sister, Moira. Though she'd initially gone to visit Sam and Dean for only a short while, her parents wouldn't begrudge her a longer visit, at least until they discovered just what Sam and Dean had gotten up to while living on their own.
Not many people their size associated with humans, after all.
Moira pushed herself up on her elbows, tiredly rubbing at her eyes as she worked her way towards wakefulness. The longer she stayed with Sam and Dean, the harder it was to fall asleep. A strange insomnia plagued her, and the few times she managed a good night of sleep, it was interrupted without fail by nightmares that grew more vivid with each passing day.
Sometimes so vivid that she could swear it was like she was awake the entire time.
"Someone there?" Moira mumbled, sitting up and using the wall next to her to go to a shaky stand. She left her bag crumpled by her small sleeping area, tucked into a corner of the main room where she wasn't in anyone's way.
The small home in the walls had more space to offer at the moment. Kara's small family had relocated to Sam and Dean's supply room, leaving just Bree and the twins staying with the brothers while they tried to come up with a solution for where everyone could live. There was no real way to get them back to their home across the seas, and Christian and Mikael both admitted that the motel they'd made their home had grown so inhospitable that they'd considered leaving more than once after losing both their wives to various dangers within. Sam and Dean didn't complain about the other three staying with them, but it was apparent (to Moira, who knew them best), that the close quarters were wearing on them. They'd adjusted to living apart from others like them, isolating themselves more than most.
Shuffling over to where she could see Anita and Mark, Moira halted when she spotted the visitor, her hands flying up to her hair to try and arrange the disarrayed bedhead. "Oh! I didn't see you there!"
Zepheera smiled kindly at Moira, unperturbed by the meaty hand around her arm and making no attempt to escape from it. A quick glance around the room informed her of one other person in the first room, still slumbering away, but something told her that that wasn't who she was looking for either.
"Hiya," she greeted Moira, lowering her voice a little to be mindful of the sleeping resident nearby. "Don't worry about it, really, I've seen messier hair in my day. Doesn't bother me."
Mark frowned suspiciously at this strange, incorrigibly friendly-seeming woman still in his grasp. "Do you know her?" he asked Moira.
Zepheera looked back at him with a small shrug. "I don't get around to this area much," she explained, then turned back to Moira. "But I do need to see how many people ended up here after all the drama the other day."
"But how do you…" Moira cut off her line of questioning, glancing towards the darkness in the final room of the little house, where Sam and Dean were both out cold. "Scratch that. Dean should be here for this. This is my brothers' home, and they're not fond of… uninvited guests." That was the best way she could put it after the rough week they'd had. She glanced between the twins, her eyes telling them to keep an eye on the newcomer, then twirled around and vanished into the other room with a flash of dark hair.
It was quiet for a moment before Zepheera regarded Mark again. He blinked, feeling her gaze bore deeply into his heart despite the softness in those strange eyes.
"I understand your concern," she said gently, speaking like someone who'd known Mark his whole life and understood exactly what he'd been through. It was impossible, and yet she came off as genuine. "But I'm really not here to cause trouble. There's no one waiting to swoop in and capture anybody, and I'm unarmed. I'll behave if you let me go."
The twins exchanged a glance, and Mark shrugged. He didn't see any malicious intent in Zepheera, but he and Anita wouldn't let their guards down. Mark loosened his grip and let Zepheera step away, while Anita came around to her other side, arms crossed suspiciously.
"So," said Anita while they waited, "how exactly were you planning to 'help' us?"
"Any way I can. And I can do quite a lot. Hey, you'd be surprised," Zepheera smirked as Anita scoffed at her ridiculously vague reply. "I've got friends."
Moira stepped carefully past where Sam was sprawled in the center of the room the brothers shared. With his leg injured, Dean never had the heart to complain about the way Sam tried to take over as much space as he could while sleeping, leaving Dean just his small corner to curl up in.
A few scattered projects surrounded Dean's nest, though Moira couldn't tell what any of them were or would become. He was always so crafty, in a way that not many others could match even after years of practice. It was like Dean had learned secrets they didn't have access to, and not for the first time Moira wondered at the secrets her brothers kept after so many years of knowing them.
She knelt by Dean's side, pushing his shoulder. "Dean," she whispered, keeping her voice as low as possible to avoid waking Sam.
He groaned, trying to roll away from her touch. Since he was tucked into a corner, there was nowhere else for him to go, and his eyes squinted open in annoyance. "What?" he griped, rubbing his eyes.
"There's someone here," Moira said bluntly. "Never met her before, but she's with Mark and Anita right now."
Dean sat bolt upright. "Stranger?" He brushed at his crooked spike of hair in an attempt to fix it. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
Dean didn't see the flat look Moira shot him as he stood up, groping blindly for his leather jacket. After tossing it on, he looked much more put together, his jeans, boots and leather jacket standing out among the normal style that other borrowers in their area wore. His insistence in wearing the ensemble was a remnant of his childhood humanity, and he had no plans on ever changing it.
Checking that his knife was in place in the hidden pocket against his chest, Dean deemed himself as ready as he could be. He spared a glance at Sam, still blissfully passed out, and stepped out of the room. His eyebrows went up as he saw the girl standing between Mark and Anita, much smaller than either sibling and completely composed.
Dean smiled charmingly. "I heard we had a visitor," he said. "Name's Dean Winchester, and this is my house you invited yourself to."
Zepheera quirked an eyebrow of her own when she realized her host was American, looking him up and down before striding purposefully forward and offering a hand to shake. "Zepheera," she introduced herself. "You must be the bloke that got those humans to help take down that wretched place in Wembley. I'm impressed, and I don't say that lightly."
Dean took her slim hand in his, far more cautious in his approach. "I am," he said slowly, looking from her bright eyes to the twins. Nothing was out of place in the room. Moira hovered behind Dean, watching the interactions without saying a word.
When the handshake was over, he took back his hand and it hung awkwardly at his side. Though the brothers had lived in London for a good portion of their lives, they'd only met a few of the other small folk that lived there. Their adopted family, a few passerby that drifted through the buildings on their way to other places, a few other families that were scattered throughout.
This girl was more confident than most of the other people Dean had ever met, and he wondered what her story was. It seemed that today was the time for his story, though, and he frowned at the memory.
"Once Sam went missing, I got John and Sherlock's help," Dean said gruffly, "but we haven't been in contact with anyone else in the area since it all went down. How did you find out about Wembley?"
"I've been keeping an eye on that place for a long time," Zepheera explained, solemnity falling over her features as she looked into Dean's eyes. They told her everything she needed to know about what he went through to save his brother, what he was willing to risk. "I've got friends spread all around London. We see everything in this city, and I make it my job to know when something happens.
"They… took a lot of people from that area when they first started out," she continued, glancing briefly at Mark just as his shoulders bunched up, sensing the tension there. "A facility like that is tight, and not easy to dismantle for someone like us. I don't think I ever fully understood how terrible it all was, since no one who went in there ever returned. Even with my connections, I wasn't about to risk anyone else to those humans, and… call me old and cynical, but I always thought that an alliance with even the most trustworthy human was too much of a risk. Lots would agree, especially when they've seen what greedy humans can and will do. We're too tight of a community, and if word gets out it wouldn't take long for them to find us."
Zepheera swallowed thickly, refocusing her own emotions to bring the point around, a smirk playing at her lips once again. "And then you happened," she chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Next thing I hear, humans broke into that place and rescued everyone. The place is in ashes, and I'm given the address of the humans who helped you, helped all of you! I had to see for myself."
Dean arched an eyebrow at her reference to herself as "old and cynical," but chose not to comment on it at the moment. "John and Sherlock are two of a kind," he agreed with a smirk. "Without them-" He faltered for a second at the possibility of losing Sam.
The past was in the past. Dean composed himself, a mask falling over his face to disguise the emotional crack in his façade. "Let's just say we wouldn't be sitting here talking about any of this," he said gruffly. "No one should be put through what they did to Sam and the others. Ever."
Zepheera nodded, all too aware of that moment of weakness. Her perception of the world, particularly the people around her, was different than anyone she'd ever known. She did her best to respect the privacy of others, but it couldn't always be helped.
"Yeah, sounds like you found some good ones," Zepheera mused, eyes flicking towards the wall that separated Dean's home from the human flat. She considered peeking in at these humans, admittedly curious. "I'm glad those people can't harm anyone again.
"So! I came all this way, I figured I could lend a hand. Maybe I can help with relocation! I know this city like the back of my hand, and it's gotta be tight in here with…" Zepheera skimmed the room, counting those around her, and then closed her eyes and internally reached out into subsequent rooms and continued counting. "Blimey, nine people! Someone's been busy," she commented.
"Well," Dean drawled, his accent thickening with the suspicions right back at the forefront of his mind, "looks like there's more to you than just a pretty face."
He stuck his hands casually in his pockets, and out of sight from Dean, Moira glanced between him and the newcomer, slowly edging over to Anita, who she'd warmed up to the more they talked. Having all the liberated captives around was a new experience for Moira, and she'd risen to the challenge of helping them all, including the task of keeping Kara out of the way of the two humans in the flat (mostly).
"Feelin' on the back of your neck?" Dean asked, waving his hand at his. "Maybe a bloody nose if ya push it? Or worse?"
"Not as much these days," Zepheera shrugged. "Definitely when I was your age. Nowadays, the tingle's more of a warning system, but yeah, I get headaches if I get carried away. Or if I'm around really intense people. Do my best to avoid the 'nosebleed' level scenarios."
Anita caught sight of Moira's movements, caught up for a moment in comforting Mark after the reminder of everything they'd finally escaped. It was all still raw for both twins, and they had an unspoken agreement to be the person for the other to lean on. They had no one else.
She offered Moira an encouraging smile and gave her a look that asked if she was alright. She'd found an unexpected friend in Sam and Dean's younger sister. There was a kindness in her that Anita admired, reminding her of Sam comforting her when they shared a cage. Of all the people she and Mark would be leaving behind, Anita would miss Moira the most.
Despite her friendly and cooperative demeanor, the twins were still a little wary of Zepheera. Her sudden appearance was a major factor in their suspicion, and they hung on the edge of every word exchanged between her and the elder Winchester. If he warmed up to her, maybe they'd let go of some of that tension.
"Right," Dean said. "This thing needs to come with a warning label over what to avoid." He could remember the blinding pain from his headache a week ago all too well. The pain had lingered for days, flaring up whenever he considered trying to track anything down. It was for the best that Sherlock hadn't found any cases for them to work while Dean was recovering. Only the last two days had the pain dulled enough for him to try it out, finding the ability still intact.
More than once he'd wondered if he'd burned himself out for good with that spur of the moment decision.
Crossing his arms, Dean assessed Zepheera again. "What kind of help with relocating can you offer us?" he asked. "I know a few people are thinking about staying in Baker Street, but there's not many good places around here. Not enough for everyone."
Zepheera clapped her hands together, excited to get down to business. "Yes, well, like I said, I know London backwards and forwards. I can find someplace to suit just about anybody's needs. Not to brag, but hell, I built some of them."
With a look around the room, Zepheera eyed the one person still sleeping in the room and pondered over the others. "Maybe if I just talked to everyone, we could work something out? I know these two were already on their way out, but I'm glad to help if I can," she added, jabbing a thumb toward the twins.
Mark and Anita stiffened, not expecting to be called out. Their gazes jumped between Zepheera and Dean, stammering out beginnings to different responses. Anita attempted to insist to Zepheera that she and her brother were trying to make it on their own, and Mark was failing to explain to Dean why they wanted to leave so quietly, without bothering anyone. They both petered out before they got too far, and Zepheera waved it off, a little thrown by the effect of her offhand statement.
"Don't worry about it, I'm not gonna judge your life choices after all you've been through," Zepheera assured. "No rush at all, especially if you've already made up your minds."
Dean turned towards Moira. "Go wake the others," he commanded, nodding towards the door. "I'll get Sam and Bree."
Moira nodded, bouncing her way past Anita and Mark and vanishing around the corner to follow the path to the supply room. There were several ways there, some more direct than others, and Moira knew them as well as either brother. She had helped them just over a year back when they'd first moved into Baker Street, long before they ever suspected they'd befriend the humans in the flat.
With that out of the way, Dean gestured to the lone table in the room as he pivoted on his heel to wake the last two. "Make yourself at home."
"Aye, aye, captain," said Zepheera, lightly teasing Dean for the way he took charge of the group as she meandered her way to the table and removed her small, single-strap rucksack. Not that she'd ever deride him for that, it was an admirable quality that she deeply respected him for. To go to such lengths as recruiting humans for help rescuing his brother, and taking in all the others they liberated from that unspeakable predicament without question…
Zepheera had only met one person so kind-hearted. And it took a lot to have as much heart as the man with two.
She took a seat by the table and eyed the food spread out on it. As it happened, she'd already had a bite to eat before she left to find this place, but she did take a small nibble from a raisin that caught her interest before folding her hands in her lap and waiting patiently.
Everyone else trickled in over the next five minutes, Sam and Dean the last of the bunch. Though Sam was on the mend thanks to John's careful ministrations, he still slept the most, the healing process combined with the effort using the crutches to get around draining his energy faster than normal.
It felt like everyone was watching as he hobbled into the main room on the crutch John had constructed, and Sam's ears turned pink at the edges as he sat in the chair left open for him, glad for his long hair to hide the obvious sign of his uncertainty.
Dean looked over everyone gathered, and nodded to himself. "That's everyone," he told Zepheera, giving her the floor.
A/N
For anyone who's read my cowriter Zepheera221b 's stuff, you'll recognize a familiar face from her stories! Zepheera officially premiers in the Brothers Consulted verse!
Next: January 13th, 2021 at 9pm.
Leave us a review if you're enjoying the shenanigans!
Starting on June 3rd, the next part of the Brothers Apart series will begin posting!