Chapter Fifty-Four

Trolling the Establishment

Northern Ireland: August 19, 2010 – Morning

It was too damn early in Dean's opinion. The flight had been short, and he'd slept through the whole thing without angelic interference by some miracle. Azrial was just as tired as him, and they both exchanged a single look as they exited the airport to communicate their immediate needs: coffee and food. In that order.

It was another hour before they reached the small town they'd be hiking out of, but thankfully, they found a place serving breakfast and coffee. Dean set his backpack down on the ground, grateful Gabriel had been able to cast an illusion on the thing. They had a few weapons that should keep them safe, especially since Azrial had her archangel blade. Between the two of them, they also had two normal angel blades. He'd also packed some food, water, and snacks for them both. A hangry archangel wasn't something he wanted to deal with. Azrial's backpack had a hiker's tent and a few odds and ends in preparation for this being a multi-day affair. He'd packed enough food to last three days; after that, Castiel would have to come and drop them more.

"Think we're being watched?" he asked against the edge of his mug.

Azrial ripped a piece of the fresh muffin she'd bought with her coffee, popping it in her mouth. She hummed in appreciation before finally turning to him.

"Nothing stands out," she said conversationally. "Are you looking forward to our hike?"

Dean tilted his head, eyes casually taking in the outdoor seating. There was them, a man in his seventies drinking something while reading the paper and a man in a business suit with a book. He made sure his gaze didn't linger, quickly turning back toward Azrial.

"Nothing like bonding with the in-laws," he said lightly.

Azrial laughed, leaning her elbows on the table. "Come on, admit I'm your favorite," she ribbed. "I mean, everyone else is so stuffy with their suits. Downside to working corporate, I guess."

Dean met her eyes, nodding. So, the guy with the suit was the issue. Go figure. Hopefully, they'd lose the weirdo once they started hiking.

"Yeah, I'm much more the outdoors type. Ruff and rugged. Can't do that in a suit."

He bit into his own muffin, pleased at the taste. They couldn't rush through eating without looking suspicious, so he may as well enjoy the food.

"You should text your dad and let him know we arrived safely," Azrial said before popping another piece of muffin in her mouth.

"Crap, I forgot to do that," he muttered, pulling out his phone. "You were supposed to remind me at the airport."

That was actually true. Bobby made it clear he wanted them to check in twice a day, not including when they first arrived. The man had become a mother hen ever since Azrial made him temporarily take over as head of the Valerius family. Well, Bobby thought it was temporary. Dean had a feeling Azrial and Marcus were trying to hint to the man about his future, and he was missing it completely.

"Can you have him tell my boyfriend that I want to go to London next? I really want to go shopping when we get home."

Dean paused his typing. Boyfriend, not husband. Asking Bobby to tell her boyfriend must mean she wanted Crowley to know they were being tailed. Damnit, he hated word games. She wasn't kidding about this being a lesson on thinking on his feet.

"Yeah, sure. Anything else you want me to pass on? Don't wanna burn up my battery with multiple texts."

Azrial sipped her coffee, tilting her head in thought. "Not right now. Just to start planning our trip."

Dean guessed she meant plan to get here in an emergency. He typed everything up before clicking send and pocketing his phone. They ate in a comfortable silence, talking broadly about family, pretend wedding plans, and what they hoped to see on the hike. When they stood up to leave, he noticed the man who'd been watching them looked utterly bored. Good, that's what the bastard got for eavesdropping. They shouldered their bags and began the walk out of town, continuing to chat about nonconsequential topics the whole time.

Line Break

Bobby frowned at his phone, handing it to Crowley. They hadn't bothered to separate for the day yet since they both wanted to know when Azrial and Dean arrived safely.

"Bollocks, that's what I was worried about," Crowley said. "They're being trailed by one of the Men of Letters."

"Anything they can do?" Bobby asked.

Crowley shook his head, handing back the phone. "I'm not sure. They must already have her scent; otherwise, they wouldn't bother to be there. I was worried her power may be enough to set off some of the older monitors that are probably still there."

Bobby racked his brain, trying to think of something to get the bastard off Azrial and Dean's tail. He glanced at Crowley, and a slightly evil idea hit him.

"Your hell hounds won't attack someone if you tell them not to, right?" he asked.

Crowley hummed. "Of course not, pet. Otherwise, I couldn't use them for tracking."

"And would this Men of Letters agent who is expecting something angelic or holy have a weapon to hurt a hell hound on him?"

Crowley blinked, then glanced up at him with a smirk. "Robert, that's downright evil."

"I don't want that bastard near the princess or my kid. Can you make it happen?"

"I'll send Juliet right now. I'd send Growley, but he can be overprotective of Azrial and may view the man as a threat."

"Remember, we're just trying to scare him off," Bobby said as Crowley left the room.

"Yes, yes. We're only traumatizing the man."

Bobby was only slightly concerned by how happy Crowley sounded. He shook his head and went to meet up with Orion. He had bigger things to worry about than someone he didn't know being scared shitless by a hell hound.

Line Break

Dean sensed the shift in the air as they pushed further out. The man was still following them, though doing a good job at hiding it. It may have worked on anyone else. Too bad for him, the bastard was trailing a seasoned hunter and a damn archangel.

"I miss my dogs," Azrial said wistfully as they veered east. "I hope my boyfriend is taking good care of them."

"I'm sure he's doting on them as usual," Dean said sarcastically.

Azrial laughed, but he was glad she confirmed his feeling. They were being watched over by a hell hound. He should have expected Bobby and Crowley to do something like this after the text he sent.

"He's so good to them," she said in a simpering voice. "Always making sure they go on long walks."

"He spoils them," Dean said flatly.

"He spoils me too, though, so I can't really complain."

Dean snorted, unable to fully swallow his laugh at her tone. She was hamming it up like a love-struck fool, but not to the point it wasn't believable. At least she seemed to be having fun despite their unwanted follower.

Howling made Azrial stop so fast that he almost bumped into her. She looked concerned, but since he could see her eyes, he knew she was secretly pleased.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Probably just a wolf," he said. "We should keep moving, though. We don't have any way to protect ourselves."

"But there are no wolves in Ireland!"

Dean was ready to break out laughing at how scared she sounded. She'd even grabbed his arm, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Maybe it's a wild dog or something?" he asked. "Either way, we don't want to cross paths with it."

They kept moving, and Dean hoped that the man would take the bait. He didn't seem sure of them, but a hell hound would be a major red flag. He'd have to choose which to deal with, and Dean had the feeling the man wasn't prepared to go head-to-head with a pissed off hound.

Line Break

Ketch growled, falling back from the two hikers. The howling was getting closer, and he still wasn't sure if there was anything supernatural about the man and woman. Their conversation was boring; the woman was constantly chatting about her boyfriend, and the man clearly didn't want to be rude to his future sister-in-law. He was starting to think they really needed to fully dismantle the wards in this part of Ireland when the howling started. He was ill prepared to deal with anything making that sound and cursed the crumbling wards again as he fully turned away from the hikers.

"Holy energy, my arse," he snarled. "Of course it ends up being the bloody opposite!"

There was a chance, slim though it was, that one of the hikers had made a demon deal that was coming due. That didn't make sense, though, given their otherwise calm demeanor up until this point. Hell-bound souls tended to freak out like they were on a bad acid trip, not casually discuss their day-to-day life on a long hike. He listened closely to the howling and shuffling of the dirt, fingering the gun hidden by his suit jacket. If he knew those two were going on a bloody hike, he'd have dressed differently. This entire day was an absolute shit show.

Then, something slammed into his side hard enough to knock the wind out of him. It left him off balance, and he was forced to a kneeling position to center himself. His eyes tracked the ground, and he could see the dirt shifting ever so slightly.

"Damn it."

He tracked the movement. It was leading further and further from the people he'd initially followed. It was probably a hell hound. He should probably ignore the damn thing, but it was acting strange. What the hell could it even be tracking all the way out here?

He was fully knocked to the ground this time, though again it wasn't enough to cause permanent injury. At this point he'd lost sight of the hikers, even though the ground was relatively flat. He pushed himself up, dusting off his pants.

"What type of hell hound doesn't maim?" he asked, unable to curb his annoyance.

He froze, his eyes tracking the way the dirt kicked up. As if the hell hound was making sure it was seen. What had the woman said? Something about missing her dogs, he was sure of it. Then she mentioned her boyfriend taking their dogs on walks. Hell hounds didn't play; they didn't toy. He'd seen enough deals come due to know that.

"They played me," he breathed softly.

At his words, the movement in front of him stopped. The area became eerily quiet. He cursed his lot, wishing he'd realized sooner what was going on.

He'd gotten played by some demon's whore, though clearly one that was worth something. Controlling hell hounds was a specialty reserved for powerful demons, and according to the recent rumors, only one demon was doing so successfully at the moment.

The King of the Crossroads. Crowley.

Who he couldn't fucking touch due to the agreement the Men of Letters had with the bastard. They weren't allowed to interfere in his business, even outside collecting souls. If the woman did belong to him, she was officially off limits. He stepped back, trying to track where the hell hound was despite not seeing any movement on the ground. This time, the weight slammed into him with enough force to crack a rib. The weight stayed on him until he was struggling to breathe. Just when his vision started to blur, a massive wet tongue licked from his chin all the way to his hair.

He was stunned. The weight moved, and he could breathe again, though he was positive at least one of his ribs was cracked. He lay there, staring up at the now midday sun and questioning his entire life. Fuck the hikers, he was going home after this. It wasn't even like this part of Ireland was under their protection.

Most of all, fuck Crowley.

Line Break

Azrial snickered when it was clear they lost the Men of Letters agent. "Sucker," she said with a grin.

Dean shook his head, amusement shining in his eyes. "I didn't know you specialized in acting," he teased.

She flicked her hair overdramatically, glad it made Dean laugh. "Of course I am! I'm multitalented, after all."

"Multitalented in bullshit, you mean."

"Oh, come on, you saw how bored he was!"

"Are we going in the right direction?" Dean asked after a few more minutes.

Azrial nodded, all traces of amusement disappearing. "Since we reached the town, I felt a pull," she said softly. "Something tugging at my grace. It's not strong, more like a whisper, but it is there."

"You think the closer it gets, the stronger it will feel?" he asked.

"I hope so. It's gotten gradually stronger, but still not enough to really tell what's going on. I know we're on the right track, though."

"Then let's keep going. Hopefully, we'll find a good place to rest before it gets dark."

Azrial couldn't stem the worry burning in her chest. The tug meant something was out there, but what? Was it just the remains of grace from one of her flock? Would it be a repeat of Iceland? Dean knew to call for help if anything like that happened, but she wanted to avoid putting him in that situation at all. One way or another, she was finally going to get answers. She just hoped she could handle them when the time came.