"Who the fuck are you?" She screamed.
Jake rushed in from behind a speechless Dean, who was either too shocked or too out of it from his flashbacks to respond properly.
The girl was still standing in the doorway, looking like she was about to smack someone or scream and run for it or both. She was petite with frizzy blonde hair, and was wearing a horrid blue and yellow sundress with a "matching" magenta and green shoulder bag.
Jake fumbled to grab his FBI badge, elbowing Dean in the process. They both held their badges up for her to see, and she visibly calmed down. They managed to coax her inside and to not call the police and apologized for scaring her. Of course, it was all just an act, but having the actual police becoming involved in this would be annoying and a hinderance.
They sat her down on the couch and Dean pulled out pictures of everyone that she had killed.
"So, Miss … Loretta, do you have any connections with these victims?" Dean asked, pointing to the four pictures.
"I … no, I just knitted them scarves. Why?" She questioned. Her voice was soft and high.
"Because they're all dead." Jake stated.
She flinched. "What? How?"
Dean was done with the pretense. He walked out of the room to retrieve the box, then walked back and set it on the table.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure you know." He growled.
She looked at the box and looked back at him, a smile smile forming on her lips. Her eyes flashed black, and she flicked her hand to the side. The two hunters were flung to the left, falling into the bookshelf.
"Hunters, huh? I guess I was a little too 'noticeable' with my latest stunts, heh." She giggled and skipped towards them. Dean felt his split lip and spat out blood. Jake groaned.
"I bet you wanna know what I'm doing, who I'm working for, stuff like that. Well, now that you're here, we'll have plenty," She brought her hand up, and the hunters were dragged up the wall, "Of time to talk."
"Get out of her, you black eyed bitch." Jake growled.
She giggled. "Oh, but then we wouldn't be having all this fun! Besides, Emerald here is just the sweetest little meatsuit I've ever been in."
She dropped her hand, and the boys fell. She skipped around, landing on top of her coffee table.
"You wanna know why I chose her? 'Cause she reminds me of what I used to be. Locked up. Imprisoned by my own mind. But now? I'm free." She laughed loudly. "I can do whatever I want!"
"Oh, really?" Dean jumped up and tackled her, knocking them both to the floor. He had caught her by surprise, and he got the upper hand, sitting on top of her, and began throwing punch after punch. He felt her nose break under his fist, the soft flesh of her face splitting open. He felt Jake grab her hands and wrap them up with salted chains, and there was a sizzle and hiss as the metal touched her flesh. Dean clamped a hand over her mouth as she tried to scream.
They soon had her tied up with the chains in one of the chairs, a devil's trap drawn in chalk, and had laid out several methods of demon torture.
"I'll give you one more chance to talk, or I'll get to try out my blade on your face." Dean growled, brandishing Ruby's knife at her. She spat blood in his face, and he slowly straightened up, wiping it off with his sleeve before grabbing an entire cup of holy water and pouring it over her head and into her hair. She screamed and jerked around as the skin on her face smoked and burned. It mixed with her blood and ran into her meatsuit's dress, staining it.
"You see," Dean started, picking up a box of salt, "we thought we were here for a basic witch hunt. Nothing major. But then you had to go and hint that you were working for someone, and, well, you sparked my interest." He flicked the box at her, and some salt poured out and fell on her arms. The skin there hissed and bubbled and she cried out.
"That hurt." She gasped, pouting.
Dean crouched down, and Jake was leaning against the counter, watching from afar. Seeing Dean like this unsettled him.
"I'm gonna give you another chance to tell me what's going on, or you'll understand what 'rubbing salt in your wounds' really feels like." he snarled.
When she didn't say anything, he stood back up and dipped Ruby's knife in holy water, then brought it back to Emerald, cutting a small line down her exposed thigh. She made choking noises, but didn't scream. Dean grabbed the box of salt and held it over the gash, but she just gave him a wide, toothy smile. Her eyes were still black. Dean shook salt out over the wound, and this time, she did scream. He was poised to do it again, but she gasped out a plea.
"WAIT! Wait. Okay." She barked out a bitter laugh, a smile still playing on her lips. "I'll tell you. They'll kill me, but it's better than being stuck with you for another hour." She snorted. "Alistair's promising student."
She spat out blood and a chunk of flesh, and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were back to their normal green. She took a deep breath.
"I'm - … I'm working for another demon, and that demon is working for a witch. The witch is working for the Highest." Her maniacal grin was so wide that Jake was afraid the corners of her mouth would split open.
"So - so this "highest" is some anonymous thing giving orders to you all? To, what? Strangle people with their accessories?" Dean questioned, frowning.
She sighed and looked at the ceiling. "All I've ever heard is whispers of the Highest when I was in Hell. Then, the gate opened and I got out. They still whisper about that, you know. The two boys who failed to prevent Azazel from letting us all out. I gotta thank you for that. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you." She raised her eyebrows at Dean, whose expression had closed off. All that lay on the surface was anger. His nostrils flared, and he cut another gash into the demon's leg.
She cried out, and slumped forward, gasping. When she sat upright again, her eyes were black.
"I believe I was asking you about what you've been doing, not how you got out. Now speak." The last words were a command.
"Fine, touchy." Her chest was still heaving. "The demon I'm working for told me to take this girl. That's it. I've just been having a little fun with her." The maniac grin was back. When Dean raised his blade, she quickly began talking again. Clearly, she had spent a little too long on the rack.
"Look, I may be higher than some, but they don't tell me anything about what they're doing. I only know the stories. I decided to join in because finding a meatsuit on your own is harder than it looks, okay? They found me this one, and she fits perfectly." She huffed. "Of course, now, I'm gonna have to go and find one on my own again."
"Tell us the stories." Dean growled.
"Really?!" She looked at Jake, who pulled out his own flask of holy water and began unscrewing the cap. "Okay! Okay, fine. There's … there were whispers that the Highest watched Lucifer rise, that she was there during the apocalypse. That she … he, they, whatever, didn't agree with Lucifer. That he was too hotheaded. That she had another plan, and tried to get Lucifer to listen to her, but he blew her off and put a price on her head, so she hid. And while she was hiding, while you two were fighting off the apocalypse, she created a network. And after Lucifer was thrown back into the pit, she assumed command and started handing out orders. They say that they were little things, tiny witch covens run by demons. That once those covens got good enough, they could summon some of the more powerful demons up and out of the pit for her."
"But I don't know what she's planning, or what her name is, or if she's really a she, or what her meatsuit looks like. I take my orders from the demon above me. That's all. I don't ask questions."
It's jus' one of those feelins' , that something' bigger's going on. Bobby's words swirled around in his head.
"Well, I do." Dean straightened up and began pouring out another cup of holy water. "What's the demon's name? The one you're working for."
"I don't know." She lied.
Her jaw was forced open and the contents of the cup were poured down her throat. Dean stepped back and watched her gurgle and gag, and with the excess holy water came blood and bits of her esophagus.
"Ariel." She cried. Her voice was rough and scratchy, like sandpaper on sandpaper. "Her name … is Ariel. She's … got blue eyes and blonde hair. Tattoo of a … a star .. behind her ear. Pixie cut." Her breaths were rattling around in her lungs, and she coughed up blood. But her grin returned. It freaked Jake out.
"Just one more thing, uh, Emerald. Tell us, where'd you get those chains? Demon like you, you'd thing you'd toss the salt, too. But it was closet. Why is that?" Jake asked, stepping up alongside Dean.
She looked up and giggled, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. "You're not the only one hunting demons, you know."
"What?" Dean barked, feeling like she still hadn't told him everything. But she just grinned at him, eyes wide. He watched as she tilted her head, and he was suddenly and horribly reminded of fallen!Cas, with the haunted, empty smile. She just tilted her head more, feeding off his discomfort. Jake looked from Dean to Emerald, sensing that there was something he wasn't getting. Just as she was opening her mouth, Dean plunged the blade into her neck, and Jake watched in shock as her entire body lit up and flickered several times with orange light. She jerked and then slumped forward.
Dean yanked his blade from her neck, and wiped it off with a rag on the counter, not speaking.
"So .. So what was that - that - that flashy, light thing when you stabbed her?" Jake asked, still staring at the body, where a small pool of blood was forming.
"That, was the demon inside of her dying."
"Wait, dying? Not just … getting sent back to hell?"
"Yeah, dying. That's what this knife does. It kills them."
"Oh. Well." Jake ran a hand through his hair. A thought occurred to him. "Wait, how are we supposed to meet up with the others?"
Dean finished wiping off the blade and tucked it back into his suit coat. He turned his head skyward and yelled, "Cas, c'mon. We're ready to go."
There was no answer. Dean looked around, confusion evident. "Cas!"
They waited another minute. Dean looked worried. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayer.
"Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I'm begging for your ass. Get down here already." They sat there, and five minutes passed.
"I - uh, I don't think he's coming." Jake murmured. Dean frowned.
"He always comes … He said he would come when I called."
"Yeah, well, maybe he's tangled up in angel business or whatever. C'mon, let's just call Sam and tell them about the witch."
Dean sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly. He nodded, still looking troubled, and got up. He walked towards the door and checked for anyone that might be walking by. There wasn't any, so he and Jake slipped out, locking the door behind themselves with the keys they snatched from her purse. Dean flipped open his phone and punched in Bobby's number. It went to voicemail.
"Look, Bobby, I know I just called you, but you were right. There's something else going on here. I'll call you again later when I meet up with Sam, but, Bobby, I think this is a serious threat. As in, apocalyptic big. Call me back." He ended the call and typed in Sam's number. It was picked up on the third ring.
"What?"
"Hey, Sam, where are you?"
"Near the front entrance, why?"
"Cas, uh, Cas had to leave." Dean had no idea why he was covering for Cas. Jake's look didn't help either. They reached a stairwell and started to descend to the lower floors.
"Oh. Well, uh, we're next to the front desk. We'll wait for you."
Dean hung up. He didn't tell Sam that he had to ask for directions.
"Brother?" Castiel called, confused as to why he was called to an empty room. The walls of the room were teal and the carpet was an ugly shade of brown, and there were no lights, but Castiel couldn't sense any of his brothers or sisters nearby.
He tried to take a step forward, but found that he couldn't.
"Wha-" Cas tried to extend his wings and leave the room, but there was a sharp pain in his back and he fell to the floor. He looked back to see his wings being bound with magic, and the more he tried to move them, the more they hurt. It was ancient magic, older than Castiel himself. It wound it's way around Cas' waist and then down to his ankles, while another golden tendril wrapped itself around Cas' wrists. He was forced to his knees, a tentacle of the magic fusing with his halo. Castiel was stuck, captured, and the more he tried to move, the sharper the pains got.
He suddenly sensed a presence in the room, one that should have been long gone. He looked up to see a familiar figure leaning against the far wall.
"Hey, baby bro."
"Gabriel." Castiel gasped.