I sent Karma to protect Mrs. Tran before we left. The Devil was currently wearing the President like an expensive suit, and I wasn't willing to take any chances that he would come after the people I cared about and weren't currently around. Sam, meanwhile, called Crowley to update him on what to find, and told us afterwards that he and Rowena would meet us in Indianapolis. I got a text on my phone shortly afterwards. Fine. Do what you want. Don't blame me when it all goes bad.
Oh, Crowley, always the optimist.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked, putting my phone away.
"Impeach LOTUS and find Rosemary's baby." Dean answered. I let out a short laugh.
"LOTUS? Really?" I asked. "That's what you want to call him?"
"I don't understand." Castiel said. "I thought a lotus was a flower."
"He means Lucifer Of The United States." I explained. "It's a play on the POTUS acronym." I thought for a moment. "Does this make the mistress MOTUS?"
"It makes her a woman that has unintentionally gotten way over her head." Dean stated, glaring at me in the rear view mirror. The message was clear. Like you. A black SUV appeared behind us, then, flashing the cherries and berries. Sam gave Dean a look as he pulled over, an unspoken brotherly I told you so emanating from the look due to his speeding habits. "Aw, crap." Dean muttered as men in suits got out of the car. Sam pulled two badges out of the glove box, handing one to Dean. "All right. Stay here." He told us, both brothers opening their doors. "We got this."
We both watched quietly as the brothers talked with the officers, but something felt off. "Stay in the car." I whispered to Castiel, about to go invisible and hop out. Then the one in front pulled a gun out, and I knew the situation had just gotten a lot worse. Dean grabbed his arm, punching the man in the face as Sam held up his hands. I acted fast, appearing in between Sam and the gentlemen. "Hello, boys." They pulled their guns out, and I held out a closed fist, concentrating on their weapons. Their guns just clicked, empty. When I opened my hand, the bullets that had previously been in the guns fell from my hand, like some sort of a magic trick, and I watched their eyes widen. "Yeah." I said, nodding as I offered them a tight smile. "Abracadabra, bitches."
They advanced on me and Sam, ready to fight. Sam took the one on the left, slamming him in to the car, while the other one came for me swinging. For a moment I considered whistling for Karma, but decided against it. Karma would kill them. I didn't want to do that. They were probably just following orders. So I disappeared behind the man, and watched as his punch swung around to accidentally hit Sam. He stopped for a second, confused, and I tapped the man on the shoulder. "Miss me?" I asked. He turned around, startled, and I proceeded to break his nose with the heel of my hand. He recoiled in pain, clasping at his face, and I took the opportunity to kick him in the chest. He went flying back, groaning at his broken sternum. He tried to get up, and I reached in my pocket for some chamomile.
"Stay down." I ordered, walking towards him. I blew the herb in his face, whispering as I did. "Bah-rah-gah-doh." He let out one more groan before his head thunked heavily on the dirt.
"Stop!" A voice shouted, definitely not Sam or Dean's. A warning shot was fired, and I felt something embed itself painfully my shoulder. Fireworks exploded behind my eyes, and I fought the urge to fall to the ground as I cried out in pain, grasping my injured shoulder as I turned to look at who fired the shot. It was the officer that had been fighting with Dean. He had a smoking gun pointed in just the right place so that he could easily shoot myself, or Sam, or Dean.
And those weren't normal bullets, that I knew. Lucifer had to have given them to him. I remembered this feeling.
The bullet was hollow on the inside, and had the ingredients for a witchbag. A shootable witchbag, embedded in my shoulder, making me feel absolutely sick. My legs were already feeling weak, and I wasn't certain if I could keep standing like I was, much less if I could do anything to stop the guy with a gun. If I did anything, I wasn't certain if I would be faster than him, much less his bullets. At that moment, I was just thankful he hadn't gotten any that were made to kill witches.
"Don't move!" He ordered, eyeing me. "And no funny business! I don't know who you are, but I'm not a fan of magicians."
Castiel was out of the car behind him, staring in abject worry and horror at the scene. I shook my head at him as Dean spoke. "Cas, don't."
As we all stood there, waiting to see what the man with the gun would do, I heard something strange behind me. Jazz music and… A car? I turned my head, we all did, and watched as a black limousine pulled up a few yards away from all of us. A man exited the limosine, pulling out…
Holy fuck, was that a grenade launcher?
"Hit the deck!" I shouted, watching as he aimed… For the same SUV I was pretty damn close to. I ran at a diagonal, and heard two shots fire. One was from the gun in the man's hand, hitting me again in the leg. The other made me jump, hoping I could get far enough away in time as the sound of a grenade launcher firing was accentuated by that of an exploding car.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam and Dean get down as Cas stood still, and the explosion propelled my airborne body forwards before I finally came face-first to the asphalt below me.
My ears rang, and on instinct I reached up to cup them. My shoulder screamed with pain though, as did the rest of my body, and I stopped immediately to prop myself up with one hand and vomit. Two hands were on my shoulders, and I couldn't tell who it was. I couldn't hear anything, couldn't even look up to see who was there. I was certain I knew, anyways. I wanted to smile. It felt so comforting, feeling him beside me, making sure I was alright, doing everything he could. "I'm fine." I tried to say, forcing myself to look over at him.
But it wasn't Castiel, it was a man I didn't know, the one that fired the grenade launcher, and he was investigating me. His eyes widened in shock, and I didn't understand. Why was he shocked? He was the one that launched a freaking grenade out.
Then I saw my reflection in his eyes, my torn and scratched and road-rashed reflection, and realized what might startle him. He'd seen my face, for a moment, before shooting.
The face he saw now wasn't the same one I wore as a disguise.
I watched him try and mouth words, but I couldn't hear him well. "What?" I asked. My ears were still ringing.
He looked up, hearing someone talking to him. I could just barely hear an English accent coming from the man in general, but I couldn't discern any actual words.
I stayed there on the ground, and worked to dig out the first bullet in my shoulder as my ears slowly cleared. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as the bullets themselves did. Once I had that one out, I felt marginally better. Note to self, the closer a witchbag (or in this case bullet) is to the heart, the more it makes you wish you were dead. I held my hand above the one in my leg, fighting a raging headache as I tried to pull it out with magic. That made me see black spots, though, and I had to stop.
When the man looked back at me, he brushed away my hand. "Let me." He offered. I could hear him much clearer, now. He withdrew a pair of tweezers from the inside of his jacket and pulled the bullet out with ease, the pair of us watching each other cautiously. When he was finished, he spoke briefly. "Hide yourself." He hissed, maintaining eye contact. God, he really did have an English accent, didn't he? "I'm quite certain the other three aren't aware of your true identity as of yet."
I did as he said, putting up the disguise like a familiar shirt. I saw the change in his reflection, and he nodded. "Good." He stood up, then, offering me a hand. "She's alright." He told the others. "Might want to have your angel heal her at some point later, though, in case she has a concussion."
"I can heal myself." I said, my voice tired. The guy moved away from me, and Castiel offered me a side glance.
"Are you sure?" He asked. I nodded, focusing on my injuries as I walked towards the SUV. It was still burning. I took a deep breath before thrusting my hand in to the flames. I hadn't done that in a while with a fire that I hadn't created, but it was worth a shot.
The flames disappeared in to me, and I felt searing pain inside myself for a moment as I did. I took a glance at my arm. No burns.
Damn I'm good.
I took a second to heal myself, focusing hard as I did. I could feel my injuries and bullet holes slowly but surely start to heal, but it was gonna take time. If I did it all at once, I would pass out, and if I was asleep I couldn't keep up the disguise. It was taking enough out of me as it was to keep it up while I was still weak.
"U.S. government plates." The English guy commented, looking from me to the car and back to the guys. As he turned away, I could see the tattoo of a black cross on the back of his neck, as well as on the backs of his hands. "Elite dogcatcher level. Someone special wants you. Whose hydrant have you lads been tinkling on?"
"I'm sorry," Dean said, not at all sounding an ounce of apologetic. "Who the hell are you?"
"Oh. Where are my manners? Arthur Ketch. British Men of Letters."
That was news. I didn't know anything about any other branches of the Men of Letters.
Castiel walked past him and towards me. "Let me help." He urged quietly. "You're weak."
"I'm fine." I told him. "I promise."
He put a hand on my shoulder, and I looked down as a precaution, pretending to watch the hole in my leg disappear instead. Why was my magic acting so haywire now? Disguises falling off without me able to feel it, stuff floating and electrocuting itself behind me… What was going on?
"Why are you here?" Dean asked. Castiel let go of me, and I made sure that the disguise was on before looking back up.
"Thank you." I whispered to him. He nodded, then moved to resume standing between myself, the Winchesters, and Ketch, keeping the British man in an almost-complete circle.
"I'd love to stick around and chat," Ketch said. "But this location isn't safe. If we don't get away from here, more will come, and personally..." He looked back at the car. "I'm not a big fan of causing an international affair, no matter how much fun it is to blow up your government's vehicles."
As he spoke, we could all hear sirens wailing in the distance. "We need to leave. Now." He urged us. "Follow me."
"How do we know you won't blow us up too?" Sam asked.
"I'll go with him." I offered. "I'll make sure that he doesn't try anything. Besides," I shrugged. "I'm expendable."
Castiel looked a little uncertain by my words, but Dean nodded. "Fine. Let's go before the 5-0 get here."
"Americans." Ketch grumbled, shaking his head as he sprinted off to his car. I followed behind him, jumping in to the passenger seat of the limo with ease. Once we started moving, Ketch glanced over at me. "You can drop the disguise now, by the way. Excellent work, though. I can barely feel it on you." I waited for a minute, uncertain. "Look, I just told you to disguise yourself in front of those blokes, and now you're questioning whether I'm planning to tell your secret or not?" He asked. "I give you my word as an Englishman that that is not my intent as of right now."
"Fine." I let go of the disguise illusion, not feeling any more comfortable without it on that I had with it.
"What's your name?"
"Diana Nyx."
"What's your real name?"
"Diana Tran."
"How many fake names are you going to give me?" He asked, keeping a straight face. "Now, I can either use the picture of you that my interior dash camera has already taken and look it up later, or you can just tell me your name now and get it over with."
I inspected his dash, and saw a tiny camera in the center, right above the navigation system. In fact, the whole limo was decked out with tech and symbols… Like Hunting and computers had a British limo baby.
"Kylie." I said quietly. "Kylie Dillinger."
"So you mean…" He thought for a minute. "You're the girl the angel used to be engaged to?"
"How do you know about that?"
"We've been monitoring the Winchesters and their allies for some time now." He said. "However, all reports we have indicate that you're dead. In fact," he added. "You're supposed to have been dead twice now."
"That was the intent."
"Why so?"
"Personal reasons."
"You were married, set to be engaged, and now you're hiding from the very angel you were engaged to?" He asked. I nodded, once, curtly. "Fine. You're entitled to having your own secrets. Here's what I do know, though." I listened as he rambled off a short summary of my history. Dead family. Homeless. Picked up by the Winchesters. Stayed with them until I moved out with Castiel. Died for what everyone else saw as permanent, newspaper clippings included.
"I feel a little violated." I said, eyeing the camera for a moment. "Do you guys even know my favorite color or something?"
"I believe our records have it stated as red." He answered blatantly. "With a slight flair for some purple as well."
"Well now I feel extremely violated."
"So why are you here?" He asked. "Why are you still alive, and why are you working with the same people you're hiding from?"
"I'm alive because I'm lucky." I said. "And I'm working with them because we have a common enemy."
"And afterwards?" He posed. "What will you do if you succeed in defeating this enemy?"
"I'll figure it out then."
"Might I make a suggestion?"
"What, work for you?" I scoffed. When he didn't say anything, I stared hard at the man. "Work for the British Men of Letters? Really?"
"You could be a valuable asset to us." He said. "It would keep you in Hunting however you prefer, offer you unlimited access to the knowledge of the world, and with your… Adeptness with witchcraft," he was very polite about the way he said it, in contrast to Sam and Dean's usually more blatant hatred of the idea. "Would also be useful in providing insight to how different spells work and which ones we may use to better protect ourselves and the people."
"What if I say no?" I challenged him. "Are you going to kill me too?"
"No, of course not." He said. "That's barbaric." That one was new, too. I was actually accustomed to death threats at this point. "I mean, we made a similar offer to Dean and Sam, and do you see me gallivanting off to murder them?" He shook his head. "Instead, I come to rescue them with a grenade launcher. Do you know how hard it is to acquire one of those? Couldn't exactly bring one with me from England."
"So…" I took a moment to put my words together correctly. "You want a witch to work for you. You guys are ok with that?"
"Well, not everyone is, of course." He amended. "There are those who would look down upon you for that, but it's no different from what you get here, minus what I believe I can safely assume includes a plethora of death threats."
"I'd just pick up everything I have and go to England?" I asked. "Live there? Work there? Whole nine?"
"Isn't that what I said?" He asked, glancing over me. I stared straight ahead, mulling it over. "You're actually considering it, aren't you?"
"I think I have a few questions of my own to ask, first." I answered instead. Ketch nodded, signaling me to go ahead and ask. "First off…" The second I was willing to ask questions, any single one I had just disappeared for a moment. I went with an easy one, an obvious one. "Why are you here?"
"I was told to be here." He said. "I was ordered to go keep watch on Sam and Dean Winchester. My superiors believed that they were in trouble, and were correct."
"Why are the British Men of Letters interested in them, much less the rest of us?"
"The Men of Letters has been defunct in America ever since Abbadon massacred this chapter in 1958." He explained. "When one of their safe houses in Kansas was made active again, we were alerted."
"You've been watching them for longer than that though, haven't you?" I asked. "Because if it was just the lights in the Bunker being turned on, someone would've showed up asking questions. You've been monitoring them for longer than that, and you wanted to keep monitoring to see what they'd do with the place."
Ketch smiled. "You're a clever woman, aren't you?"
"I try to keep up." I said. "How long have you been watching them?"
"What do you know about the apocalypse?" He asked in response.
"Which one? There are, like, X amount of religions and theologies with Y amount of different apocalyptic scenarios, not including the scientific and pseudo-scientific ones."
"The Judeo-Christian apocalypse." Ketch answered. "Starring Lucifer and Michael."
I knew the basics on that. Lucifer gets power. Fights big brother. Ultimate showdown, winner takes all.
"I know enough." I answered. "Why?"
"It almost happened in 2010." He answered. "The Winchesters were involved."
That, I knew. I remembered from Castiel telling me, before… Before everything, I guess. Before I died. The first time.
"We've been watching them since it started." He answered. "Maybe a little earlier. We try to keep track of legacies." I understood that, as well.
"So you've been their professional stalkers for almost ten years? Maybe a little longer?" I let out a small whistle. "That's a little creepy. Like, seriously violating privacy and such."
"There are no secrets in this world, Ms. Dillinger." He stated. "You should be aware of that by now."
"My being alive was a secret for almost a year, now." I reminded him.
"Not anymore, of course." He said. "That camera feed goes straight to my superiors."
"Still, though." I shrugged. "I kind of actually feel proud about that."
"And speaking of which," we pulled up to a secluded area, off a backwoods trail somewhere. "I would suggest putting that disguise back up unless you intend on revealing your truth to the others."
"Are you going to tell them?"
"No."
I paused. He didn't hesitate, nor said the word too quickly to indicate any lies. He was being… Honest. He wouldn't tell them.
"Thank you." I said, putting up the disguise as he parked the car. We both got out quickly, the boys pulling up in the Impala behind us.
