Losing Hope | {BOOK 4}

91| Emilie and the British Men of Letters

"Wow," I scoffed, avoiding my mom's gaze.

"Hey, guys, come on," Sam addressed the kids, nodding his head toward the doorway.

Maddie and Zep stood from the table, following him down the hall and leaving Dean and I alone with my mom.

"Just wow," I shook my head.

"Ellie, what the British Men of Letters are doing... what we're doing, it's a better way. They," she sighed. "Look, I'm not blind to who they are or what they've done, but-"

"When? When? When did you start working for them?" Dean cut her off.

"Since before the lake house."

I scoffed again, shaking my head in disbelief.

"It wasn't Wally. They brought me that case."

"You were running an errand for the Brits," I glared at her. "And you kept it from us. Cass almost died."

"I-"

"A hunter got killed," Dean added.

"You think I don't know? I'm the one who burned his body. I'm the one who told his wife. I watch him die every night."

"Good," I spat.

"I'm doing this for you," she kept her eyes locked on mine. "I'm playing three decades of catch up here."

"And I'm not? How do you think this has been for me? I'm your daughter, and you've been gone. My whole life, you've been gone. You said that you needed time. No, you said you needed space. So I gave you your space. But you didn't just need space. You needed space from me."

"That's not true," she shook her head. "Ellie, I'm trying-"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?"

"I am your mother, but I am not 'just a mom'. And you are not a child."

"I never was. So between me and them-"

"It's not like that."

"Yeah, Emilie, it is," I told her. "And you made your choice. So there's the door."

I turned on my heel, not waiting for a response.

"Dean," Emilie addressed my husband.

"You should go," he told her.

⁘

"Ellie, we should really talk about this."

"No."

"But you've been freezing her out for days. Don't you think it's time to-"

"I said no, Dean."

My husband sighed, running a hand tiredly over his face. We'd had this argument a few times in the past forty-eight hours. It had been almost a week since I kicked Emilie out of the Bunker, and Dean thought it would be a good idea for me to reach out again.

"What the hell was she thinking?" I growled in frustration.

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask her."

"What?"

"Look," Dean sighed. "Sam and I, we might not be as pissed as you, but we're still upset. But this- freezing her out- it's obviously not working."

"She lied to us, Dean. She lied to me."

"I know," he nodded.

"For months," I added with a snarl.

"I know, but it's your mom! I mean, whatever she was doing, she must've had a good reason."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"A good reason? A good reason for working with those ass clowns?"

"Weren't you the one who called them for help getting me and Sam back?"

"That was different! I didn't want-" I stopped, letting out a frustrated sigh through my nose. "Since when were you ever the voice of reason? Isn't that Sam's job?"

"Okay, yes, you have a point," Dean nodded. "This isn't my area of expertise, but you're my wife, and I'm trying here. And, at the end of the day, she's family. Don't you think you owe it to her to at least-"

"Alright, you know what? Screw it. I need a drink."

"You-" Dean sighed heavily.

"No, I need drinks. Plural," I corrected myself, heading toward the doorway.

"Eleanor-"

I ignored him, walking out the door.

⁘

"Dean? Sammy?"

I looked around, listening for any sign of the other occupants of the Bunker. As I moved into the empty library, I spotted a note on the table.

"'Went out. Back later.' Whatever."

I turned, looking at the liquor cabinet, which was empty.

"Oh no," I groaned, grabbing a bottle and then dropping it with a thud on the table.

There was a knock at the door and I headed over to answer it.

"What'd, you forget your key?" I asked.

"Hello, love," Ketch greeted me.

"How'd you find us?"

"Well, this is a Men of Letters Bunker. The location's no secret to us."

"Okay. Cool. Well, good talk."

I turned away, heading back down the stairs into the main area of the Bunker as Ketch followed me.

"And whilst I understand that you're not feeling warmly disposed to me, I wonder, what's your disposition to this incredibly rare, unspeakably expensive, bottle of barrel proof Scotch."

I turned eyeing the bottle in the Brit's hand. Sighing, I nodded my head toward the library and we took a seat together at the table. I brought over two glasses and we broke into the bottle.

"Mm. Nice place," Ketch noted. "Quaint. Cozy."

He eyed me as I didn't respond.

"Not one for small talk, are we?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p' as I took a sip of Scotch.

"Well, surely you have some questions. Why I'm here, for instance."

"You're here to recruit us. You already got Emilie playing your game. You want me. And Sam and Dean."

"Well, I don't, but the old lads have taken quite the shine to you," Ketch stressed.

"Mm. Well, maybe you shouldn't have sent some bitch to try to kill us."

"Yes- Toni. No one predicted she would go rogue. No one but me. I had a sneak peak at what a neurotic, overreaching, time bomb she was. We used to date."

I scoffed at that, shaking my head.

"Huh. Yeah, I can see that."

"Eleanor, I don't give a toss if you sign up. Honestly, I don't care if you live or die. But since we're such jolly good pals now-"

"'Jolly good', huh?" I mocked him.

"Let me just say that the Men of Letters is an excellent fit for someone with our inclinations."

"'Our'," I echoed. "As in you and me?"

"You're a killer, Eleanor Winchester, and so am I. And if we go too long without something to track or trap or punch or gut, well, things get a bit ugly. Don't they? The Men of Letters keep me busy. They point me in a direction and bang. Off to the races. It's not a bad life. Speaking of," he took a drink from his glass, "mm."

He looked across at me, holding my gaze.

"Oh," he whispered. "Now that you've heard what I have to say, places to be, vampires to behead."

"You got a line on vamps?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I do. Interested?"