I flew out to London maybe a week after dispatching Lucifer, a single day after I called Ketch to let him know the plan.

But I had a promise to keep before that, and I kept it.

I met Crowley at his favorite Cantina, a small one right near the Texas/Mexico border. He got his normal drink, the same as always. Something fruity and colorful, with an umbrella, a pineapple wedge, and a plastic pitchfork. I laughed the first time I saw the drink. Now it was just… Normal. And in all honesty not that bad tasting. I ordered one of my own, because why not?

"Hello." Crowley said, his voice soft.

"Hey." I greeted back. Both of us sounding like tired old souls. "How's your mom doing?"

"She's fine. She's asking questions again, and this time I don't think she'll let up."

"What does she want to know?"

"Why Lucifer called you Kylie." He answered. "Why I didn't look surprised when he said that. How in the hell you're alive, and how she didn't know about your being a witch. Why I didn't tell her when she asked the first time."

"So what did you tell Rowena, then?" I took a short drink from my glass. "About me?"

"I haven't seen her." He answered. "I dropped her off in her former boyfriend's house, told her I couldn't answer those questions, and left."

"Ah." I thought on it for a moment, on what I wanted to say. "I'm sorry." I finally said. I could tell that he wasn't expecting that.

"For what?"

"I stopped caring." I answered. "For my own life. For what my worth was. For my place or purpose or whatever it is in this world I'm stuck doing. I just… I stopped caring. I wanted to throw it all away." I let out a harsh laugh. "I even offered up myself to take on the Mark instead of have Sam get it." That took him by a harsher surprise. I didn't realize Crowley hadn't known that.

"You what?"

"I offered myself." I repeated. "I stopped caring, and figured I'd be better off hunted and locked up than in the existence I was in at the time."

"And you thought the Mark was the best chance?"

"I knew they would lock me up." I reminded him. "I knew I could lock myself up. You had Rowena. You had everyone. I could hold it together, maybe, but I knew that you guys would be the ones to keep me away."

"Why?"

"Sam and Dean and you and… and Cas…" I shook my head. "You guys all deserved a life. The world tends to do better with a Sam and a Dean being mostly OK, and more hazardous when one is in danger and the other is… Well… A Winchester." Crowley nodded. He understood that bit. "So I made my choice. I had nothing else. I didn't think we would fail. I didn't know if Lucifer would keep Castiel or not, or whether Castiel would even want me around afterwards. So I… I made a choice, for better or for worse."

"Sacrifice your own freedom," Crowley summed up. "So that everyone else can keep there's."

"I guess I learned something from them." I muttered. "I learned the talent of self-sacrifice and a lack of care for your own self."

"But it didn't work." Crowley said. "Amara… She wasn't caged."

"I know." I felt my lips form a thin line for a moment. "I know. I'm not… I'm not certain about a lot of things, now. I'm not certain where my place is in this world, not certain where I belong or what I should do."

"You know what you've been doing then, right?" Crowley asked. "Pushing people away, hiding yourself, running, you know what this is?"

"Yeah."

"It's the same path Cain took."

"At least I haven't killed any family."

"You're killing yourself, inside, by doing all of this."

"And that's why I'm leaving." I finished. "I made my decision."

Crowley gave me an appraising look. "You're going to London."

"I'm settling a few last things, then yes." I agreed. "I'm leaving."

"Why?"

"There isn't anything here for me." I stated. "Not anymore."

"I feel a little hurt by that."

"Didn't you say you wanted me gone as well?" I reminded him. I don't think I've ever seen him wince before, either, but there he did at the reminder of his own words.

"I lied." He said. "And I hated those words the second I said them."

"Then why say them?"

"You were captured last time you went against Lucifer." He said. "Lucifer has come quite close to killing you multiple times. I didn't want to acknowledge the possibility that he would succeed the next time, and that I would have done nothing to protect you."

"So…" I thought for a moment. "You Winchestered me?" He let out sharp laugh at that.

"I suppose it did." He agreed, smiling. "I Winchestered you, you Winchestered Castiel…" He trailed off at that. "Are you going to tell him that you're leaving?"

"I only have two friends in this world now, Crowley." I told him. "Two people that are worth telling all of this. If it's any consolation, you're one of them."

"And the other?"

"Billie."

"A demon and a Reaper." Crowley let out a small chuckle. "What would Mrs. Tran think, knowing she'd been replaced?"

When I looked down, Crowley understood. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." I shook my head. "She died a few days ago. Car crash. Dead on impact. I… I got the phone call yesterday." I couldn't help but smile. "I called up Billie, of course, the second I knew. Mrs. Tran is in Heaven." I smirked. "Actually, she was Mrs. Tran, so she's in Heaven with visiting rights from her personal Heaven to Kevin's."

"That sounds like something she would swing." Crowley nodded. I knew he hadn't been kind to her in a long time, but I couldn't be mad at him. It was in the past, and too tiring to be mad at someone for so long. "When will you leave?"

"Probably soon." I said. "Once I call, I have a feeling they'll arrange a plane ticket."

"Why don't you just show up there, save them some money?" He asked.

"I want to see what they know about me, first." I answered. "Plus, I don't know where they're housed, or what alarms I'll set off if I just appear on top of Big Ben at three in the afternoon."

"And you can't go anywhere you haven't actually seen, can you?" Crowley asked. I shook my head.

"No, I can't." I chuckled quietly. "Can't blame me for trying to pull one over on you, just for kicks."

"Well, if that's the case, then," Crowley reached down, in to a bag by his feet. "I have a going away present for you."

"Demons don't give away presents." I stated. "You make deals."

"At this point…" He let out a small sigh. "I'm not certain if I am fully demon anymore. I've tried to keep the King of Hell title, but…" He shrugged. "Humanity has a way of getting to all of us at one point or another, doesn't it?" He pulled out a small cardboard box, and handed it to me.

When I opened it, I saw the chess board, complete with all the pieces. "Don't forget to look at all the angles." He reminded me as I closed it up.

"I won't." I promised. "But… Why give me anything? You were pissed at me. You were furious."

"I was furious with myself." He admitted. "For dragging you back in to this mess. You were out, enjoying a life at college. I was just lonely, I guess. And when I realized what the repercussions were," he wasn't looking at the Mark, but I knew he was thinking about it. "I should not have reacted like that towards you. I guess I could say that… You are my friend as well."

I shook my head, putting the box down at my feet. "Quit the sappy stuff. It doesn't suit you."

"My thoughts exactly." He agreed, holding up his drink. "A toast, then, to your new life in London."

I clinked my colorful, fruity drink with a small umbrella, a pineapple wedge, and a little red pitchfork against his own matching one, and we both drank to that. "What will you say?" I asked, thinking on it. "Your mom is asking questions, and we both know Sam and Dean and Castiel will be as well."

"Sam and Dean are in custody." Crowley answered. "I can't get to them. It's above the pay grade of any of my spies. And as for Castiel," he watched me. "Do you want me to tell him?"

"He heard my name too." I said, raising an eyebrow for a moment as I inspected the lines in the table. "He's bound to ask questions at some point. What have you told your mother?"

"Nothing." He told me. "Not my place to tell."

"Do you want to?" He seemed shocked by the question. "She's your mother. I know you care about her." I didn't look up. "It must be hard to keep secrets from the people you care about."

"Yeah, it must be." He agreed. I could feel his gaze bearing down on me.

"Tell them whatever you think is necessary." I said. "Don't tell them everything," I flashed back to when Dean and Sam learned. They blamed me so much. They hated me. "I don't think I can accept them hating me as me again. I would rather them just loathe and distrust someone they don't know, versus someone they knew and trusted." Someone who failed them.

"And Castiel?" He asked. "He never hated you for what you became."

"It would've torn him apart." I said. "He would've been put in a bad position with the Winchesters, one where they couldn't trust each other. And… And there's more."

"What?"

"I'm afraid." I admitted. "My powers," I raised a hand, and watched a flame just… Appear. Not of my own volition or summoning. It just was… There.

"Yes, I know you can do that, now put it away." Crowley hissed. I shook my head, closing my hand as I did. I could still feel it though, burning away inside my closed fist.

"I didn't summon that one."

"What do you mean you didn't summon that one?"

"Crowley, something is wrong with me." I told him. "I've watched my powers go off without my control. You even saw it in the Bunker."

"That was your emotions, though." He pointed out. "We've both seen how your emotions can influence what you do."

"Crowley, I got control after that first emotional bout during chess." I reminded him. "I haven't lost total control yet, but little things are sparking up more and more. The fire, my disguise," I shook my head. "I've stopped using it, stopped putting up the constant energy to have it up, and it's still there, isn't it?"

Crowley focused for a moment, and I could just barely feel the small pulse he sent out, detecting where my focus was and wasn't, what I was actively casting and what was just… happening.

"Bollocks." He muttered.

"And we both know this isn't from a lack of use, not this time." I remembered those scratches on my arm, ones that tore themselves from within me. "I think it's the Mark."

"It may be." Crowley conceded. "It's never been put on a witch before."

"I want to see what the Men of Letters have on it, in London." I explained. "See if that's what's causing the interference and freak-outs, see if…"

If I was doomed to follow the same destructive path.

"Amara isn't caged any more, but it still has a strong connection with Lucifer." I said. "Now that Lucifer is caged up again, I think I have a better chance of figuring out what all of this is doing, but I…" I shook my head. "I can't do that here. I can't put you guys in danger."

"And the people of London?" Crowley asked.

"The Men of Letters there are more equipped to deal with me than the Hunters here." I was firm in this belief, and I knew Crowley saw that as well. "If something goes wrong, they'll deal with me. I don't want Dean or Sam or Castiel to see that, though. They still believe I am… was a good person." I amended. "I don't want that opinion of me to die out with the truth."

"So this is goodbye, then, isn't it?" Crowley asked. "That's why you asked to meet me here, a place I like?"

"I thought it was as good of a place as any to do it." I said, standing. I offered him a hand. "It's been a pleasure to work with you, though, and to have been taught by you."

"You still hate me a little bit in there." Crowley muttered, standing as well. He shook my hand with a tight smile.

"You still want to kill me a little bit." I countered. Crowley shook his head.

"No." He admitted. "No, I don't. Not anymore."

"I don't hate you anymore, either." I replied. "It's just…"

"Too taxing." Crowley agreed.

I made sure to pack the chess board with me when I left. A black town car picked me up at Mrs. Tran's old place, with a man inside that I didn't know.

"Mick Davies." He introduced himself, offering a hand. I shook it evenly. "I've heard a lot of good about you from Mr. Ketch."

"I haven't heard anything about you." I responded. All I knew was that that was the correct name, the correct person that was supposed to be my contact.

"British Men of Letters," he explained. "Tactical division. I oversee most operations and missions." I nodded, throwing my small bag of belongings in the back before I got in the shotgun seat. Once I was buckled Mick drove off, talking as he went. "So, for the run down as to what Ketch has told me, your name is Kylie Dillinger, also known as Diana Winters, also known as Diana Nyx, also known as Kai, no last name." He continued on to repeat the same brief history of my life that Ketch had the first time. "Am I missing anything?"

"No."

"Good. And you have the Hyperbolic Pulse Generator with you?" I reached around to the back seat, and pulled it out of the bag. "Excellent. How did it work with your endeavor."

"It worked fine." I answered.

"And, pray tell, what was it that you needed the Hyperbolic Pulse Generator for?" He asked. I stayed silent, then, not used to speaking. "Come now…" He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, which name would you prefer?"

I thought on that for a moment. This was a new life, now. I could go for one more new name, if I wanted. Change myself one more time, hide myself away again. I could, and it wouldn't be any issue.

"Will I need to be in contact with the Winchesters?" I asked. "Or Castiel?"

"Not in the near future."

"Then unless they're involved…" I decided. "I'm alright with my actual name."

"Very well, Miss Dillinger." He agreed. "So, what was it that you needed the Generator for?" I still didn't answer. I just… I wasn't used to sharing information. "Ah, come now Miss Dillinger, we're on the same side here. You work with us now." It was strange. He said with, not for. "Sharing information is a part of the game."

"We were dispatching an angel." I answered. "A rogue one."

"Which one?" He responded. "There are a lot of fallen and rogue angels currently wandering the continental US at this point, not to mention around the globe."

"What's that situation like?" I asked.

"Better, now." He answered. "For the most part, they have been quiet and civil, and we've seen a dramatic decrease in their presence on Earth since they fell. But there were, of course, those that were more unruly than their brethren." He glanced over at me for a moment. "You carry angel blades on you, correct?"

I nodded. They were in their sheathes right then, even. "I like them."

"Good. Glad to see you're already outfitted with more formidable weapons." He said, appraising the weapons for a moment. "I take it you have extensive experience with the use and handling of them?"

"Yeah." I thought for a moment. "Do you guys use angel blades much?"

"Few of our operatives do." He answered. "Mostly because they were much harder to come by outside of the United States. It seems as though the majority of them landed here in America." We both sat and thought on that for a bit. "You don't want to tell me which angel you used the Generator on, do you?"

"Giving information isn't something I'm used to."

"Understandably, of course." He sympathized. "However, as I stated, you are working with a collective group of people now that believes in the free exchange of information." He glanced over at me for emphasis. "And I would like for you to get as comfortable as possible with that ideal."

"Alright." I agreed, albeit warily. "It'll take some getting used to, though."

"Again, understandably." Mick conceded. We sat in silence for a few moments, thinking.

"Lucifer." I finally admitted. "Big L, little everything else."

Mick let out a low whistle. "The big Devil himself? Are you serious?" He glanced over at my face, and saw the unchanged expression. "Bloody hell you are."

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Did it work?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?" He let out another whistle at that. "You really are made of some different stuff, aren't you?"

"I just… I try to get by." I answered.

"No need to be so modest, mate!" He encouraged. "I must know, who taught you?"

"I think I would rather keep the secrets of my teacher to myself." I stated. I wouldn't give up Crowley or Billie, and in all honesty the only thing I'd really learned from Rowena was how to steal the Book of the Damned from her.

"Alright. I can agree to that." Mick nodded. "Wouldn't do to give away everything on the first date, right?"

"Yeah…" I agreed, looking out the window.

We made small talk the rest of the way to the airport. He pried just a little here and there as to my family life, life before hunting, favorite things, normal stuff. "Your new apartment, by the way," he added, handing me a small pamphlet. "Not too far away from the headquarters, nice penthouse flat, with rent and expenses paid for until, well," he laughed a little. "Until the world ends. Fully furnished as well, by the way," he glanced over at me as I opened the pamphlet. Extremely swank digs, with a kitchen and floor to ceiling windows and dear God, was that… Was that a giant ass flatscreen? "But you're free to redecorate however you want."

"What's the catch behind all of this?" I asked, setting it down.

"Catch?"

"There's no such thing as a free lunch." I answered.

"Greek proverb. I like it." He commented. "And I'm still not certain as to what you mean by catch."

"You're offering me a new life, nice apartment, pretty much anything I could ask for or about." I answered. "Why? And what do you want from me for it?"

"We simply treat our constituents well." He answered. "Another of our operatives, Lady Bevell, actually lives quite luxuriously, thanks to the Men of Letters. And of course, if need be we can also set you up with a secondary job in whatever field you desire, so long as you continue with your primary duties to the Men of Letters."

"See, it's things like that, offering up more opportunities on a silver platter, that make me have questions."

"Can't you just accept that we are truly here to help you and offer you every available opportunity to improve your power?"

"The last time I got offered everything, it all crashed and burned around me." I answered.

"So what can we do to make you more comfortable with this?" He asked. I sat still, uncertain as how to answer. "Look, why don't we compromise. A trial period, perhaps?" He offered.

"I'm listening."

"All we're asking is that you attempt to accept what we can do for you," he said. "And in return, if you don't like it, you aren't required to stay with the apartment or the job or the British Men of Letters."

"How long?"

"Six weeks."

I thought over that. Six weeks, and if I wasn't game I could leave or change the arrangement.

"I can do that." I agreed, watching as we pulled up to the terminal. Ketch was standing outside, waiting for me.

"Splendid. Now," he said, putting the car in park. "You will be accompanying Mr. Ketch to the runway. We have a jet on standby awaiting the two of you."

"You're staying?"

"I'm afraid so." He nodded. "I have some more business to attend to here. But, you best be off. London is waiting, after all." I opened the door slowly, fully aware that I was about to leave everything behind. I'd never traveled outside of the country before. This whole experience… It was something entirely new.

I hesitated only for a moment as I grabbed my things out of the backseat, for a moment certain that I could see Castiel or Crowley out of the corner of my eye. They weren't there, though. It was just my imagination.

"Bye guys." I muttered, closing the door to the car. Mick offered me a last wave before driving off to who knows where.

"Are you ready, Miss Dillinger?" Ketch asked. I nodded, turning around to face him fully.

"Let's go." I said, my voice firm and confident.