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Wind howled around the man, high and keening, but he barely heard it as he stood on the edge of the cliff. Instead, he heard the urgent voice, calling him to action. He didn't remember why he'd come, what had been driving him to the cliff in the first place. He was so scared, but he knew what he had to do. He had to jump. It was the only way to safety. He knew, just knew, that if he didn't, everything would be pain and burning.
He didn't know why, what he was so afraid of, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the voice and the desperate call to safety. He took one last look at the midnight sky, partially hidden by the fog and clouds, and stepped forward, tumbling towards the frothing sea below. His stomach flipped, and he thought he heard another desperate voice call out as he dropped. It sounded scared, and something in it punctured the blanket of safety the wind and first voice had wrapped around him. He didn't understand, wasn't he safe? He was safe. The first voice was still urging. He was falling, and the sea was rising up to -- to embrace him or to swallow him? He didn't know anymore. Without understanding why, he sobbed in relief and misery with voice as he plunged the final feet into the ice-cold water. The last thing he felt was the water pouring in, burning his lungs as he gasped.
...
"Dean, check this out," Sam said. The Winchesters had been working small cases from their bunker, enjoying the normalcy of regular hunting life after the myriad near-world-ending threats they'd faced. Sam wasn't naïve enough to believe there wouldn't be more, but in the meantime, they got to hunt, to live together -- him, Dean, and Castiel.
"What is it?" Dean asked, looking up from his own computer.
"I think it's a case."
"Why?" Dean asked, moving to peer over Sam's shoulder at the screen and the articles he'd pulled up. "Those are suicides."
"Yeah -- one each night, from the same cliff, for a week." Sam said. "That's a pattern. And look at the names."
"Those are all hunters," Dean breathed. "What could be killing hunters like that?"
"And only hunters -- these are all the articles I found. There were no other victims before. And look, it says that people nearby heard voices. They described them like sirens."
"But they can't be; we know sirens don't actually sing..."
"There's a story--" Cas's voice came from directly behind them.
"God--" Dean took a sharp breath. The angel must have just materialised. "What story?"
"It's only a rumour. In Heaven, there were stories about a third race, besides angels and demons. The Nymphs were supposed to be neutral -- to protect humans from both sides, from demons and angels."
"Okay. What does that have to do with the case in Seattle?" Sam asked.
"They were wild cards. No one's seen the Nymphs in over a century, but supposedly, they were hypnotic."
"Like what? Like Medusa? Look into your eyes, and boom?"
"No, Dean, Medusa turned people to stone," Sam corrected. "But if they're supposed to protect humans, why would they cause suicides?"
"They were always ... hard to predict. Independent. It concerned Heaven. Just before the Nymphs disappeared, the archangels started researching their, well, code..." He trailed off, like he was remembering something. "I should have wondered why they knew Nymphs had any."
"Hey, you didn't know," Sam said. "It's not your fault."
Cas just hummed, low in his throat. "The archangels claimed they were going to fix the Nymphs, that Earth had corrupted them. But after the archangels were done, the Nymphs just... vanished. I haven't heard about them since. I don't think anyone has."
"And you think they've gone bad or something?" Dean asked.
"I don't know. But I do know they're dangerous, and either they or the archangels were up to something. We can't trust either of them."
"Great," Dean sighed. "We have to go. If these Nymphs are hunting hunters, they need to be stopped."
"Be careful." Cas said. "Angels can't be hypnotised, but I'll have meet you there. I may be able to find something out from one of the other angels."
...
The drive to Seattle was quiet, despite the length. Both Winchesters felt they had to go -- it wasn't just a case. Someone was targetting hunters. Cases like that were personal, and they almost never ended well. But they had no idea what they were walking into. Even though it'd become an increasingly familiar feeling, it hadn't gotten any easier to deal with.
Dean hoped Cas would be able to find something useful, but there weren’t very many angels who still talked to him.
When they finally arrived in Seattle, it was getting late. They parked the Impala at the first dingy motel they found and ordered food in. Sam looked frustrated, still attempting to find information on the Nymphs. Aside from Greek mythology, none of their sources mentioned Nymphs directly. He couldn't find anything that sounded like Cas's description of them, either.
"Do you think the Greek myths are still reliable, if these Nymphs are somehow related to angels?" Sam wondered out loud.
Dean shrugged. He'd started out browsing through Greek mythology semi-helpfully. Some of the images were... pretty pornographic. Despite his best efforts, he was getting distracted. "None of it sounds like them..." He started.
They were interrupted by a rapid knock on the door. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and drew their guns, carefully approaching the locked door. They weren't expecting anyone but Cas, and he didn't need to knock. Hell, he didn’t even need the door.
Sam looked over to Dean. He lowered his gun to the side, so it wouldn't be immediately visible, while Dean kept his up and trained from the side. One, he mouthed, two, three! He pulled the door open and found himself staring at a short, curly-haired girl. Her dark brown eyes were wide and wild. She was gesturing semi-frantically, hands moving fast, but Sam couldn't make head or tails of what she wanted. She seemed young, potentially harmless, but he kept his hand firmly on his lowered gun.
"Who are you?" Dean growled. The girl turned toward him, flinching back when she saw the gun aimed at her. Her hands still, and she took a short gasp in before slowly raising them to her head, a universal gesture -- don't shoot. Dean held his index finger away from the trigger, but he didn't lower the gun. "Who are you?"
Hands shaking slightly, she slowly moved on pointing between them, then flicked her index finger up by her temple. She glanced back to Dean's gun nervously, but moved both hands to circle around each other, eyebrows arching in an unmistakable question. Then she raised her hands again, back by her head.
"Uhh..." Dean looked to Sam.
After meeting Eileen, Sam had learned to recognise some basic ASL signs. He was pretty sure the girl was asking if he understood her, but he wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Are you deaf?" He asked, making sure he was facing her fully.
She shook her head, scrunching up her nose, even as her wide eyes still tracked Dean's gun. She paused a moment, then telegraphing every action just as she had before, she pointed at her throat.
"Mute?" Dean guessed.
She moved her hand side to side in a so-so sort of motion.
"Sort of mute?" He asked. "What does that mean?"
Before she had a chance to answer, there was a tell-tale shift in the room's air pressure. The girl took a step back, eyes somehow going wider as she stared past Dean into the room.
"Sam, Dean! Get away from her!" Cas growled.
Dean turned towards him, while Sam kept his gaze on the strange girl in the doorway. He saw the instant panic overtake the brunette's face -- not the jittery, tense nerves she'd been displaying, but something much deeper, more primal. She started signing again, sharp, fast, and frantic -- too confused for Sam to even attempt to understand. And, just for a moment, there was something off about her, something rough and coarse running under her skin.
"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down," He tried. "Cas--"
But as Castiel took a step forward, towards the two of them, she stumbled further back, through the doorway. She nearly tripped off the porch step before scrambling backwards and fleeing down the drive of the motel.
"What the hell, Cas?" Dean asked, staring at his friend incredulously. He normally feigned humanity when other people were around, and he'd never scared part of their case off like that.
"She was dangerous."
"What?"
"That was a Nymph, Dean. Didn't you see her skin?"
"It was brown. So what?" Dean said. "That's like, half the world’s population or something. You can't tell me they're all Nymphs."
"No, not that," Sam said. "Cas wasn't talking about the colour. I noticed it, too -- when she freaked out, her skin changed. It got kind of... rough. Like bark or something."
"Bark?" Dean scoffed.
Sam shrugged. "I don't know how else to describe it. Maybe the Greek myths had that right, and they are connected to trees somehow."
"She could have hypnotised you both," Cas cut in.
Sam considered. He supposed Castiel was right. She could have, but... "It doesn't feel like she was trying to. I mean, Nymphs hypnotise with their voices, right? And she didn't say a word. It seemed like she learned sign language to avoid it."
Castiel didn't look convinced.
"Why was she here?" Dean asked. "If she wasn't hypnotising us, what was the point?"
Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It proves there are Nymphs involved with the case, but I don't know what it means beyond that. I don't think she's going to come back while Cas is here, though. She knew when we showed up somehow, and she seemed terrified of you."
"What makes you think she'll come back at all?" Castiel asked.
"I think she needs to," Sam said. "She came here for a reason. I think she had something to tell us."
Cas nodded grudgingly. "Nonetheless," he said. "It could still be a trap. I can't leave you alone with her. I'm the only one she can't hypotise."
"Okay, so we trick her." Dean said. "If she's watching the room, we just have to have you leave, wait for her to come back, then let you know. You can do your whole... appearing act again."
They couldn't send Cas out right away without it looking suspicious. Dean had been reluctant to wait, but a quick search of the news confirmed that the next hunter was already dead, had died just before the Nymph showed up. They’d all been researching, and they’d all turned up nothing – a waste of time while a man drowned.
That was unsettling, and Sam didn't know how to respond. He didn't think Dean or Cas did either. Had the young Nymph killed him? Or come to them because of the murders? Was she a monster or a victim?
Waiting was far from a perfect plan, but with no idea where the Nymph had gone, it seemed like the best one they were going to get. At least there shouldn't be any more deaths until tomorrow night. Whatever the murderer was, it kept a tight schedule.
. . .
Cas left the next afternoon on a pretend errand. They hadn't found any wards or devil's trap equivalent for Nymphs in their morning research, which left all of them feeling a bit naked, but they couldn't put it off any longer. As it turned out, Sam and Dean were right. There was a tentative knock on the door shortly after. The brothers moved back into position, and Sam pulled it open.
The Nymph narrowed her eyes at the guns and made a hopeful lowering motion with her hands. Sam noticed she was holding a notebook in one of them. When neither of them shifted their aim, she raised the notebook pointedly.
On it, she'd pre-written, I'm sorry about last night. I was rattled, but I just want to talk to you. The letters were large, clear block capitals. She gave them a small smile, seemingly full of nervous tension.
"Okay," Sam said, carefully lowering his gun. "You're a Nymph, right?"
She blinked, looking taken aback, but she nodded. Turning the notepad back, she wrote, You know what we are?
"Yeah, we know what you are," Dean said. "And what you do."
You're hunters. You're here about the suicides?
Dean snorted. "We know they aren't suicides. They got something to do with you?"
The Nymph shook her head quickly and waved her hands like she was warding off the very idea. Before she could start writing again, Sam motioned for Dean to lower his gun. "You know," he said. "We know someone who knows sign language. Would that be easier for you?"
Suprise flitted across her face. If it's convenient for them, of course.
"Great," Dean snapped. "Sam can Skype her, see if she can come down -- or play translator on the computer. In the meantime, why don't you tell us everything you know about these deaths, and what's got you so bothered."
Sam knew his brother was impatient to get to the body of this one. Dean hated mind control -- they all did -- and even though he still sounded terse, Sam could tell Dean was making an effort not to spook the Nymph. "Come on in," Sam said.
She took a deep breath, then a few hesitant steps into the room. She looked around before beginning to write. She didn't get very far before Castiel appeared. The Nymph panicked immediately. Her gaze zeroed in on the angel and she turned to the door that was now closed behind her. Her eyes were wild, and she was practically hyperventilating, shoulders shaking with each fast breath. She glared at Sam fiercely, looking betrayed and completely terrified.
Guilt stirred inside him. It's for the best. We need to know what's going on, and this is the safest way, he reminded himself.
"He's not going to hurt you," Dean said. "He's just here so you can't hurt us. You want to talk? Talk."
He. Is. An. ANGEL. The lines were sharp, harsh, and shakier than anything she'd written before. Her back was pressed against the door behind her, notebook raised like a shield.
"Dean's right. If you truly mean no harm, you have nothing to fear from me," Cas said, stepping fully into the room. Looking at her terrified face, the slight shake she was suppressing in her arms, he seemed less hostile towards, more willing to hear her out.
She flinched away from him even as she scanned his face intently. She didn't have any more room to move back.
"Just tell us what's going on," Sam prompted firmly. It might be overly harsh, but they didn't have time to coax it out of her. There'd been a death last night, and if the pattern held, something -- maybe one of her kind -- would be coming after them or some other hunter in town that night.
A muscle in her jaw twitched, whether from anger or fear Sam could tell, but hesitantly she looked back down at the notebook in her hands. She started writing, glancing up frequently to make sure Cas hadn't moved. When she turned it around, Sam read, These suicides/killings, they're targeting hunters. It's not safe for you to be here, but I need your help. I couldn't convince the last hunter who showed up to leave, and I think he's going to be killed, tonight.
"You've been talking to the other hunters?" Dean asked. He and Sam exchanged a glance. She was either on their side or laying a very elaborate trap. So far, however, Cas hadn't seemed threatened or made any moves to stop her.
She nodded. I keep trying to convince them to leave. There's another Nymph involved, and they're not prepared.
"If you're a Nymph, why not just make them leave?" Sam asked.
She shook her head, eyes wide, waving her hands again. It looked like she was trying to convince him of something, but the question had scared her and he couldn't understand the combination of gestures and actual signs. He pointed at the notebook, and she remembered to write. I don't. I promise, I don't use my voice.
Oh -- she'd thought it was a trick question. "Okay," Sam said. Then because he thought it might be what she expected, "Good."
She nodded quickly.
"So why us? When you said you need our help?" Dean asked.
She considered for a moment. I’ve asked the past couple hunters. None of them listened. But you know what Nymphs are. That's more than the other hunters managed, and I can't keep watching them die. The Nymph involved -- he's my friend.
"What?" Dean growled, low and menacing.
She shook her head again at the threat but remembered to write out her answer. Please. It's not his fault. He doesn't want this. An angel got to him. She glanced nervously again at Castiel as she held up the notebook for them to read.
He cocked his head to the side, looking as confused as Sam felt. "What do you mean?" he asked.
She looked confused in return. An angel marked him. She showed waved at the notebook, like Castiel should know what she was talking about.
When Cas didn't seem to understand what she meant, she wrote again. The rewiring, in heaven? When the archangels felt we'd gotten 'out of hand' and bound us to obey any angel who claimed us?
"So," Sam began to recap. "There's an angel targeting hunters, and he's using your friend to do it -- to make them kill themselves. You need our help because..."
I can't fight an angel on my own, especially not with these rules in my head. I've tried to convince the hunters to drop the case, but it never works. I can't protect them, and I can't help Kye. He doesn't want to do this, I promise. He’s not bad.
He assumed Kye was the name of her friend. "What does this angel want? Why is he going after hunters?"
The Nymph shook her head, shrugging. She didn't know.
"Okay," Sam said. "I'm going to text Eileen, see how soon she might be able to get down here. If we're going to work together, it'd be good to have a faster way of communicating, no offense."
She shrugged one shoulder and tipped her head, like she was saying none taken. Writing was probably a little frustrating for her, too.
Sam pulled out his phone and drafted a text.
"Who is the angel?" Cas asked.
Any calmness evaporated again as she focused on the angel. With her left hand shaking slightly, she wrote a name: Remiel.
"I don't know him." Cas sounded concerned.
I didn't either. He found us maybe ten days ago? That was the first time I'd heard of him.
Sam had just sent the text when she cocked her head sharply to one side, frantically writing, It's started again. I need to go. The letters weren’t her regular capitals, and the last words practically blended into each other.
As the three of them stared at her, she dropped the notepad onto the floor and pulled the door open before Sam could stop her. She slipped past him into the evening gloom, and he could see the bark-like ridges and whorls pattern against her skin.
For a moment, none of them moved. Dean broke the inertia.
"Well?" He said. "Someone else is about to take a swan dive. We need to go after her!"
"No," Cas said. "You could be hypnotised as well."
"Earplugs," Sam said. "We could wear earplugs." It was an insanely simple solution. He couldn't believe neither they nor the other hunters before them had thought of it before. (Though, they at least had the advantage of knowing they were facing an enemy that used their voice.)
“What if that’s not enough?” Castiel countered.
“We’ll make sure they are. Besides, it worked for Odysseus,” Dean reassured him. Sam gave him a startled look. “What?” Dean said. “I saw the Odyssey.”
“The Odyssey’s a book.”
“It’s also a miniseries. C’mon. This is not the time to judge my TV tastes.”
. . .
It took time to fashion earplugs that could truly block out the Winchesters' hearing, and by then, the Nymph had vanished. It didn't really matter. Dean was almost positive she would be at the cliffs, the scene of every crime so far. It's started again. Silent though their delivery had been, the words rang in Dean's head. The three of them took the Impala and drove to the cliffs. As they got closer, Dean almost imagined he could hear voices. Hear wasn't the right word; it was more like he could feel them -- feel the vibrations through the earplugs. Sillouhetted in the Impala's headlights was a man standing on the edge of the cliffs. The two Nymphs were just paces away. Dean could feel them shouting at each other, against each other.
He recognised the Nymph who'd shown up on their doorstep, of course. The other was a boy, just as young as she was, with the same brown, elfish features and curly hair. He was desperate, terrified. They both were. Sam and Dean surged out of the car, guns raised. He could feel Cas follow behind them, his own power crackling in just as lethal a threat.
Dean wouldn't shoot yet, not when it sounded like the kid was just as much a victim as he was an enemy, but he felt better with the gun in his hands.
The girl screamed. They couldn't hear her -- the earplugs were holding -- but the word was unmistakable on her lips: NO!
The other Nymph snarled something, eyes wide and accusatory as he noticed the hunters. The girl turned back towards the man on the cliff, talking to him. It felt like the air pressure changed. The man stumbled back away from the edge.
The boy was yelling at the girl. Dean thought he could feel the anger, even in the silence. But at least he'd lost his concentration, backing to the side, away from the Winchesters' guns and Castiel. It seemed to be enough. The man turned towards them, staring open-mouthed.
Sam shouted something at him that looked like "Go! Get out!" There was no hypnotism in his voice, but the man fled without hesitation.
The boy Nymph collapsed forward, seemingly in pain. The girl stepped forward, calling to him, but he disappeared before any of them could respond, literally blowing away in the tumbling wind.
The girl collapsed forward in a repeat of her friend's movement, her head falling in her hands. She rested her head against her knees, breathes shuddering her back. They waited. After a few agonizing moments, she lifted her head and raised her hands in what could have been supplication or outrage. Her face was wet, the occasional strand of dark brown hair sticking to the tear tracks.
Dean winced sympathetically and moved towards her. He'd been there, with a loved one in danger and out of reach. It friggin sucked.
She scrambled back, and he froze, confused. Sam clearly didn't understand it any better than he did, but he'd at least remembered the notebook. He crouched down to her level and tossed it to her from the few feet that separated them.
She stared. I'm sorry. She wrote. I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry.
Oh. She thought they'd be pissed because she'd used her voice. And sure, as much as Dean normally hated the idea, he wasn't an asshole or an idiot. "That the hunter you tried to warn off the case?" His voice sounded too loud in his ears.
She nodded.
"You let him make his own decisions until your friend whammied him. And you just saved his life. I think that gets a pass."
Her shoulders dropped, relief bleeding through her. Still a little subdued, she gestured questioningly towards them.
Dean couldn't tell exactly what she was asking, but he tried to answer anyways. "We're good. Got these ear plugs." He taped one. "And hey, you asked us for help. That means we're here. No running off."
She almost looked incredulous, like she wanted to say something about him critiquing her rush, but she shuttered the expression quickly, dipping her head apologetically instead.
Yikes. There'd almost been a personality buried there somewhere. Dean didn't know if he was just biased because he hated the way it made him feel, but he didn't trust the innocent, meek act.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked her.
She nodded.
"Alright. Let's head back to homebase. We can get work things out there so no one goes off half-cocked."
The brothers headed back to the car, and she followed. When she realised that she was supposed to sit next to Cas in the backseat, she looked petrified. Nonetheless, she stiffly sat down and closed the door. Cas looked over at her, but she refused to meet his eyes, even as she stole completely unsubtle glances at him throughout the drive, like she was once again checking that he wasn't moving. She sat with one side plastered to the door, as far away from the angel as possible. When they finally got back to the motel, she barely waited for the Impala to stop before getting out, quickly backing away from Cas as he got out on the other side. The sun had finished setting. It was officially night.
Sam opened the motel door and motioned everyone inside, shutting it after them
"So what happened?" He asked the Nymph. "Will that guy be okay?" Dean was glad his brother was taking the lead for the moment. Even if it wasn't either of their faults -- and he still had his suspicions on that front -- witnessing a man almost jump off a cliff because of some words from a teenager had him on edge, had him angry the way near-helplessness always did.
Should be. The Nymph wrote. I don't know why, but Remiel's always stuck to one attack a day/night. I'm more worried about Kye.
Oh, sure, Dean's thoughts snipped. Let's focus on the kid who nearly killed a guy! He exercised some basic self-control and didn't voice them out loud. He remembered how it'd felt when Sam or Cas or anyone else he cared about had been possessed. This was close enough that he should be able to understand. At least a little.
"The other kid?" Sam clarified.
She nodded. We stopped him, so he failed. Remiel is going to be very angry.
"What about that disappearing act he pulled?"
She shook her head. Nymphs can't do that. That was Remiel's power.
The room fell silent for a minute as everyone tried to collect themselves. Dean didn't think he was the only one wrestling with what he'd almost witnessed. It would have been so much easier if he could just shoot the Nymph and make it stop.
Sam broke the silence. "Hey," he asked gently. "What's your name?"
The Nymph looked nervously at Cas again, like she didn't want to tell them with him there, like she'd been avoiding it. After a moment, she sighed. Aneia, she wrote.
"Aneia," Sam read. "It's pretty."
Her eyebrows arched sarcastically, just for a moment. Why do you need to know?
"We can't just keep calling you 'the Nymph.' Now, you bought some time tonight, but we still need a plan."
I can try to figure out where they are.
That snapped Dean back to the conversation. "How?" He asked.
She looked yet again at Cas. It was obvious she was scared of him. She didn’t want to talk with him around.
"It's okay," Sam said. "You can tell us. We're going to help, but we need to know what you're doing."
She took a deep breath and refocused on the notepad. We have our own version of Angel Radio. It's not as clear or as powerful, but-- The message wasn't finished; she was at the end of the page. She paused for them to read before flipping the page.
"You think you can find him that way," Dean said pre-emptively.
She nodded.
"Okay. Sure."
She nodded again, closed her eyes, and concentrated. Dean felt stupid just waiting, but after about ten minutes, her eyes flickered back open. Quickly, she scribbled something on the notepad and turned it around to them. 1782 Hamlin Street.
"That's where they are?" Dean verified.
She nodded, but this time it seemed a little uncertain. Great, he thought.
“You have an address?” Castiel seemed surprised. That was a decent point – his information was usually more, a sense – a direction he could lead them in or a point he could get them to. Not a street address.
2 months. She wrote. I learned the city.
Apparently, she hadn’t been twiddling her thumbs while hunters died. Dean couldn’t fault that. There was a knock on the door.
Sam pulled it open. Eileen was standing on the porch, a duffel bag in one hand. She must have come fast.
"Hi," she said. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah, of course." Sam stepped back to make room for her, smiling.
Aneia watched the hunter carefully as she entered the motel room. Then she wrote, who's this?
"I'm Eileen," she said. "Sam texted me about the case."
"She's the friend I mentioned who signs," Sam explained.
Understanding dawned quickly on Aneia's face. It was the first time Dean had seen her look something other than freaked out. She turned to Eileen with visible excitement, shifting the notebook under her arm and beginning to sign again.
"'Thanks for coming,'" Eileen interpreted. "It's really no problem," she responded to Aneia. "So what's going on? Your text was a little shy on the details," she said to Sam.
Aneia flapped a hand quickly, the way Eileen sometimes did when she needed someone's attention. Once the woman had turned back to her, she started explaining -- Dean assumed -- rapidly, from the pace of her hands and the way Eileen occasionally nodded or interjected with a question. He didn't know much ASL, but Sam had explained the facial expression for questions thing once, and Dean was as good with body language as anyone else. He didn't watch the conversation for long. Sam was staring with mild fascination, like he was trying to see how much he could understand. Nerd, Dean thought affectionately. Though, with how much Sam liked Eileen – and hey, Dean didn’t mind having her around – it might be good if he learned a little, too.
He glanced back at Cas, expecting to find the angel watching with confusion or zoning out, waiting for the conversation to be over. Instead, Cas seemed unsettled, and then angry.
The angel took a sharp step forward. “She’s hypnotising her,” he growled.
Aneia flinched to face him, shaking her head. She signed something fast, and Dean didn’t know what it meant, but he had a guess from the fingers flicking close to her throat.
“That’s not possible,” Eileen translated the hurried movements. “I’m not using my voice.”
Cas stood, ready to strike.
“Maybe,” Sam said gently, “it’s not just your voice. Maybe it’s you somehow.”
Aneia’s hands fell to her sides. She picked up the notepad again and wrote, Then why doesn’t it affect you?
“I mean,” Dean said. “It’s not like we sign.”
A clarity crossed her face, and her whole expression dropped. You’re saying I’m always hypnotic. People just didn’t understand me enough for it to matter?
Eileen winced sympathetically. “Story of my life,” she said.
Aneia smiled back weakly. She looked lost – like she’d just started to make an actual connection and then had it ripped away. Eileen looked like she understood the feeling.
I’ll write, then. Aneia wrote. It was an accident. I promise. The paper was held up for all of them, but she was staring at Cas again, pleading.
He study her face, then let his defensive posture drop. “I believe you,” he said. She smiled gratefully.
“But, I felt fine,” Eileen interjected. “I didn’t feel hypnotised.”
The Nymph nodded. You wouldn’t – it doesn’t feel like a trance or anything. It’s more like our emotions become yours.
“Like, an extreme form of empathy,” Sam said.
Y es, I think. It is stronger with genuine emotions.
“Okay,” Dean said. “So why doesn’t it work with the writing? Or just, like, your body language?” He didn’t like the idea that the girl could hypnotise them without even speaking. Up until now, he thought they’d at least had a defence. Her motives did seem pure, but he knew better than to trust strange monsters without a backup plan.
Maybe it’s not strong enough?
“Not strong enough?” Dean asked incredulously. That was what she had?
She shrugged. Sorry I’m not an expert on the different ways to hypnotise people. I’m trying to do the opposite.
“You sure?” Dean said. “Because I could hear the sarcasm in that.”
A frown flitted across her face, and she hugged the notebook back to her chest.
Damn. Dean hadn’t actually meant to scare her.
Eileen came to their rescue again. “So, you’re hunting an angel?” She asked before the tension could get any thicker.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Apparently Nymphs have some kind of code, a bit like angels do, and this guy got in one of Aneia’s friends’ heads. We want the deaths to stop, we’ve got stop him.”
Aneia nodded. Kye knows ASL, too, but probably won’t sign. He doesn’t know your Deaf and it hypnotises, she wrote to Eileen.
“Wait – you two both sign?” Sam asked.
Aneia nodded again.
“Then how did you never figure out it was hypnotic? Are Nymphs just immune?”
She furrowed her eyebrows and looked lost in thought.
“Kid,” Dean prompted. “Answers would be good.”
Talking about mind-control crap, which apparently they had no defence against and couldn’t even notice the effects of, was putting him on edge. She tilted her head and tipped her hand in a so-so motion before starting to write. And write. He looked at Sam, who just shrugged.
I’m not sure how accurate “hypnotise” is? Nymphs do influence each others’ feelings. We actually get some influence from anyone around us. We can just tell which feelings are ours, I think. They have an impact, but less? Or, you get used to it?
Wow. She had no idea how her own powers worked, did she?
“What do you mean, you get influence from anyone around you?” Sam asked.
Like, if you’re upset or scared. We feel it to and want to fix it.
“So most Nymphs probably aren’t fans of murder sprees?” Dean asked. Forced empathy for any potential victims could be a good way to keep these things in check. The archangels still hadn’t trusted them, but that could either mean they sucked or they were exactly the sort of people the Winchesters wanted to work with.
Aneia shrugged. Nymphs have good and bad, like humans. She paused for a moment, considering. There’s something else you should know. Angels aren’t immune.
The Winchesters stared. No wonder the archangels didn’t like them. The brothers had taken for granted that Cas’s general Cas-ness would keep him safe.
“What?” Cas growled. Apparently he had, too.
I’m not hypnotising you. You just deserve to know it’s a risk. She crossed her index finger over her chest, like she was making a pinkie promise.
It’s just, people usually trust us instinctively, and I want you to have all the information beforehand.
“Oh. Well. That’s a good sign we’re not whammied then,” Dean bit out. “Because I haven’t decided if you’re a threat.” He thought he had, but that was before the Nymph had admitted, to their faces, that she could be influencing them all right now. He could feel the blood in his ears. He remembered the last time dozen times he’d had anything else in his head, in his body. The girl couldn’t literally possess him, but that didn’t make this much better.
“Woah, Dean” Sam said. “What are you talking about? She needs help.”
“And maybe that’s her influencing you! I’m don’t like having people in my head.”
Sam was glaring at him, but Dean ignored it. Because, honestly, he’d been feeling the same way – like a douche for scaring her, ready to help – and right now, it seemed like he and Cas were the only ones with any caution left. If it had all been an elaborate rush, if the notebook was just a way to gain their trust, if this Nymph was using them, Dean would have to be the one to make sure they got out of there. He wasn’t going to let Sam’s bleeding heart get the man killed, and Dean wasn’t above shooting a monster just cus it looked like a little girl. They’d been there before.
I AM NOT IN YOUR HEAD, Aneia had written in sharp clean lines. Her usual capitals look more pointed than normal. I don’t want to hurt or trick anyone.
“C’mon, Dean. Just chill for a second,” Sam said.
“No. I need to know that what I’m feeling is my feelings and not some tree-kid’s. And I’m sure not going into a fight with someone I can’t trust not have me stab myself in the back.”
A look kind of like hurt flashed across Aneia’s face, and Dean told himself he didn’t care. That was just her. She looked to Castiel, almost imploringly.
“None of you appear to be hypnotised, Dean,” he admitted begrudgingly.
“Sure. But you could be hypnotised, too.”
“Come on!” Sam said, exasperated. “Why would he be able to see it with Eileen but not now? Why would she tell us all this and put our guard back up?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not risking all our lives on this being a trap!”
“Oh. Is that it? It’s a good thing we can make our own decisions, then.”
“Can you?” Dean snapped.
The brewing fight was interrupted by a sharp thud. Aneia had stomped once, drawing all eyes to her. She was holding the notebook up in shaking hands, eyes flashing between them. There is something you can do.
“What?” Dean asked.
We can’t hypnotise an angel in control of us. Lucky you – you have an angel. Beneath the fear, there was something else, something harder in her expression. Anger.
“What are you suggesting?” Sam asked.
Castiel could mark me.
Just so you feel safe. Promise you’ll let me go when we’re done.
“Of course,” Sam said. “Are you sure about this?”
She wrote a response, straightened, and showed it to them. Whatever it takes. Her gaze was flat and determined.
Dean sighed. He could understand doing something dangerous and stupid to protect someone you loved. They just had to be sure. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” He asked.
She lifted her eyebrows life that was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. She didn’t write anything, but they could practically hear the response: in what world would lying about this help me? Do I look like I want to do this?
Yeah. That, he could believe. It looked like everyone else was already on board with this plan. They were just waiting for him. He nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Aneia’s shoulders dropped, and she nodded to him. I can prove it worked once it’s done. You two might want to plug your ears again, though.
Cas stepped towards her, and she shut her eyes, going still and rigid.
Dean watched Cas put his hands on the Nymph’s temple gently. He no longer seemed threatening or suspicious of her. There was a moment of silence as he concentrated, then Aneia rocked forward. Her face contorted in pain as her eyelids flickered and her breathing became shallow.
After a moment, Cas stepped back.
Aneia let out a gasp. Then she spoke. “Undo it! Please, this was a mistake!”
Dean turned, almost before he’d realised he was doing it, but Castiel didn’t move. It was the first time they had heard her voice. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, exactly – something ethereal? Magical? – but it sounded normal, human, and so very afraid. She was in pain and he was terrified for her.
Castiel tilted his head. It was obvious he could see her distress, but he didn’t react. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” he said.
Sam had stepped to her side, but she moved back, carefully shuttering her expression. She took a deep breath and reached for the notepad, which Eileen handed to her. The hunter looked as disturbed as Sam and Dean. Definitely not just Aneia’s voice, then. It had to be understanding. Eileen could read her lips, and anyone could have seen the terror.
See? She wrote. She kept her movements small and neutral. The terror they had felt was beginning to subside.
Part of Dean was impressed and revolted, the way he always was by magic like this. The other part of him felt guilty?
Sam’s worried expression hadn’t changed. “You said it comes from real emotions,” he said.
Aneia nodded, cutting him off. Yes. I knew what I was agreeing to.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked.
She nodded again. Let’s just find Remiel and end this. She looked at the Winchesters, and her brown-black eyes were damp and almost glowing with a green tinge.
“Okay,” Dean said, blinking a few times. The whole scene had thrown him off balance. It was hard to be suspicious of her now. He wasn’t even as angry as he’d expected to be about the wave of emotion she’d hit them with to prove her point. Well, she had said to plug their ears. He shook his head to clear it. “Let’s go. Where’s Hamlin Street?”
I know it. I can drive.
“You can drive?” He scoffed. “What are you, 13?”
317, she glared.
“What?” Dean said, eyebrows raised.
You’re not wrong about the ‘tree’ thing. We’re older than we look.
“300?” Sam asked. “How long do you live?”
It varies. Most of us can live 4-5,000 years.
“So you are a kid,” Dean said.
She shrugged. I do know how to drive.
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Don’t hurt my baby,” he said.
Aneia looked up at him, eyes wide. When he just glared, she turned to Sam, confused.
“He means the car,” Sam supplied.
“Damn straight,” Dean said.
She mouthed oh. She tipped her head to Dean and crossed her heart again.
“Just give her the keys, Dean.”
Reluctantly, he handed her the keys. “I’m watching you. Not a scratch,” he reminded.
She nodded solemnly, but Dean caught the start of an eyeroll as she turned away. She moved to the door, then paused. Hesitantly, she looked back at Cas. She was waiting for his approval.
He stepped closer to her. “I know it’s not… pleasant, having someone else in your mind,” he said. “You don’t need my permission. It’s just a safety precaution.”
She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she studied Castiel. Then, with a slight, indecipherable twitch of her lips, she nodded and pulled open the door. She gestured them through first, grabbed the notebook, and followed them out.
Dean went for the trunk first, pulling out their stash of angel blades. Aneia took the driver’s seat, so Dean got shotgun while Sam, Cas, and Eileen ended up in the backseat. She took stock of the controls quickly.
“We’ve only got three angel blades,” Dean said.
Aneia pointed to her throat, eyebrows raised.
“You’re going to use your voice?”
She looked between them, like she was waiting for someone to shoot it down.
Dean shrugged. “Fine by me.” They were going to have to wear earplugs anyways, with the other Nymph there.
“Okay. That still leaves us one short.”
“It’s okay,” Eileen said. She gestured to her gun. “I don’t need one.”
“That won’t do much against an angel,” Sam said.
“I know. It doesn’t have to, if you’re all armed.”
Distraction. Dean nodded approval. Eileen was a formidable fighter – even without an angel blade, having her in the fray would make it that much easier for one of them to land a fatal hit. Plus, if she avoided reading their lips, she was less vulnerable to the Nymphs than the rest of them. She could take them on if something went wrong.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s roll.”
Aneia started the car, listening to the engine. There was a slight jolt when they got started – like she hadn’t driven in awhile – and Dean grabbed the door handle in panic, like he could protect the Impala from having the breaks mishandled. It turned out Aneia could drive. She got a feel for the car quickly, adjusting perfectly to it by the time they were out of the parking lot. Dean kept an eye on her, just in case, but she navigated her way through the Seattle streets with ease. It wasn’t long before she turned onto Hamlin Street and parked the car behind an old building.
“This it?” Dean asked.
She shook her head and pointed across the street. That building.
The Winchesters quickly put their earplugs back in and shaped a pair for Castiel, too. It felt strange with the thick wax in their ears – heavy and a bit like being underwater. Eileen checked over her weapon, grabbing an extra magazine just in case. She gave them a thumbs-up, and they were moving.
Aneia entered the building – a low, weakly lit warehouse – first. She’d only gone a few steps when she stopped, holding up a hand for them to wait. She cocked her head, brown curls hanging sideways. On the notepad, she wrote, I hear voices. She pointed into the darkness off to the right.
Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged. Considering she was the only one who could actually hear right now, they were kind of stuck taking her word for it. They followed her further into the building. Twenty or so meters later, she raised her hand again. They stopped. Peering into the gloom, Sam could just make out why. They’d were angled behind a low set of shelves, and just around the corner were two figures – the Nymph from the cliff, and someone who had to be the angel they were hunting. He was screaming at the Nymph, who knelt, hands over his ears, shaking.
Aneia motioned them away from her.
“What?” Dean hissed. “Why?” His voice sounded warped in his own ears, like it was in his skull.
She just nodded urgently in the direction she’d pointed. Eileen started moving that way. So did Sam. Dean hesitated, trying to figure out what she was planning. He didn’t have to wonder long.
She stepped out towards the angel, mouth open in a shout.
Dean knew it was a bad idea, but he had to hear what they were saying. He ripped his ear plugs out, settling his hand quickly back on his blade.
“Look who finally showed up.” The angel’s voice was low and menacing. “Come to surrender? You could join Kye.”
“No,” Aneia said. The slight tremble in her voice was the only thing that betrayed her through the calm she projected. “You are going to let him go.”
Remiel stared for a moment. Dean wondered if the words had hit him. Then the angel laughed. “Why should I?”
Aneia shifted on her toes, nerves growing. Dean looked for an opening, but right now, she was between him and the angel. He’d lost track of Cas, and Eileen and Sam had been circling to the side. Maybe they’d find a better shot.
“Because what you’re doing is wrong!” The Nymph put emphasis on every word. Dean could feel the truth of the statement, at least as she believed it. And she believed it. It wasn’t going to be enough.
The angel’s face darkened. “You dare? It won’t be long before you’re singing a different tune.”
Oh god. Puns. Dean thought. Maybe he should have left his earplugs in.
The angel closed in on Aneia, and the other Nymph’s eyes went wide. “No!” he shouted.
“Silence!” Remiel ordered, and Kye’s mouth snapped shut as a voiceless gasp of pain tore from him.
What Dean had felt in the motel room from Aneia paled in comparison to the anguish that rocked him now. He felt like he understood for the first time just how much power she’d handed Castiel – how vulnerable she’d made herself.
By now, Remiel had reached her. He put his hands to her temples, just like Castiel had. Aneia stood, absolutely frozen. She needed back up. Dean shifted closer to the corner of the shelves. Remiel drew back suddenly, like Aneia had burned him. He shoved her roughly to the ground as he stepped away.
“There’s already an angel’s mark on you. What have you done?”
Aneia twisted, propping her shoulder on the ground to push herself back up. As she did, she made eye contact with Dean, a small smirk on her face. Bitter triumph.
“Whose is it? Who’s there?” Remiel asked, trying to follow her gaze. Aneia had gotten her feet back under her. She didn’t respond. Remiel growled, looking around the warehouse. His gaze locked back on the Nymph in front of him, and he lashed out.
“Aneia!” Kye shouted. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled against the angel’s control.
“Stay!” Remiel ordered, and Kye was stuck in place. “No,” he groaned softly, eyes glazing.
Remiel’s hand struck her, and Aneia stumbled back with a yelp. She managed to stay on her feet this time, but she looked unsteady. More importantly, she’d ended up moving sideways with the blow. It wasn’t much, but apparently, it was enough. A gunshot cut the quiet, and Eileen’s bullet slammed into Remiel’s shoulder. He looked down in annoyance.
Dean took the opportunity, stepping into the open, blade raised. “Get away from them,” he said.
Remiel smiled. “Kye?” he said, circling back around the struggling Nymph. “Be a dear. Do what you’re made for.”
The Nymph’s head rolled forward on his shoulders. Dean didn’t know how much longer the kid could hold against the angel’s power. They had to finish this fast or they’d have an extra enemy. For all his bluster, Dean didn’t want to kill this kid.
“Don’t, Kye!” Aneia said. “Please. Please.” The plea was directed as much at Dean as Kye. He hesitated.
Kye’s eyes flashed back open, glowing – literally – with pain. “Kill him. Kill Remiel.”
The angel laughed, hand running through the Nymph’s hair. “Really, Kye,” he said. “Suicide by angel. How cruel.” Kye collapsed to his knees, breathing too fast as he tried to recover from holding out so long.
For once, Dean didn’t care how much of this anger was coming from Kye. Remiel deserved it. “Yeah,” he growled. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Sam emerged from the shelves to the left, next to where Eileen’s shot had come from. Dean heard the quiet sound of Cas stepping forward somewhere nearby.
“Oh,” Remiel sounded mildly surprised. “There are more of you. And there’s the angel. Castiel – Heaven’s most notorious.” He looked between Sam and Dean, apparently unaware that the shooter hadn’t revealed herself. “That must make you the Winchesters.”
“You know who we are?” Dean said.
Behind Remiel, Kye struggled to stand back up.
“Sure do,” he told Dean. “Down,” the angel snapped, and the Nymph froze again.
“Then you know you should be very afraid,” Dean said.
Remiel smiled coldly. “I hunt hunters. You may be strong, but you are nothing more than the rest of your kind – an arrogant plague.”
Dean rushed him. Remiel let him get close before knocking him away with angelic strength, sending Dean flying.
“Dean!” Sam yelled. Somehow, Eileen must have circled back, because she and Sam surged forward as one, flanking the angel. Castiel readied his blade, dropping it from the trenchcoat in the palm of his hand. Eileen fired again, and Dean saw her bullet flash above him. It tore through Remiel, but he just bared his teeth, turning to face her.
“You think a gun can hurt me?” He laughed.
“This will,” Cas growled. He stabbed forward with the angel blade, but Remiel lunged, catching his arm.
“Look at you,” he spat. “Still working for humans.”
Cas tried to rip his arm away. Remiel jerked, eyes glowing white, as Sam’s angel blade protruded from his chest. They all shut their eyes as Remiel’s power burned out. He fell to the ground, lifeless and charred.
Kye slumped forward, gasping painfully for air. Aneia stumbled to his side, hands moving to check him over.
“Kye?” she called quietly. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”
It was strange, actually hearing her talk. No test, no battle magic. Just a sentence to a friend. The other Nymph lifted his head slowly. His breathing was getting steadier, but he was still shaking, and Dean thought he could see traces of blood around the kid’s eyes. Kye shook his head, pointing to the hunters.
Aneia nodded. “I know. It’s okay. They came to help – and they have earplugs in. Oh! Eileen’s Deaf. Turns out, ASL is hypnotic; you just have to be pretty fluent to be affected, so, no signing here.”
Kye looked between them, dazed, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was just the aftereffects of the spell he’d been under or if it was from having his whole understanding of his powers turned upside-down in two sentences.
“Oh,” Dean said. “Uh, I actually took mine out.”
Aneia let her head drop. “Why would you do that?” She muttered before she caught herself. She snapped her mouth shut, hands balling into fists.
Dean felt bad, a little annoyed, and scared – which had to be coming from Aneia. Man, it was freaky how that worked.
She pointed nervously to the notebook. It was on the floor where she’d dropped it when the fight started. Dean kicked it over, and she pulled another pen out from some pocket. I’m sorry. She wrote.
“Nah,” Dean said. “It was my bad.”
Why? And technically, she didn’t write anything snarky, but he could see it in her posture – the not-so-subtle what were you thinking??
“I had to hear what was happening. Turns out, keeping track of a fight without hearing is kinda hard when you’re not used to it.”
Sorry. She wrote again.
“It’s fine,” he said. He motioned to Sam and Cas, and they pulled their earplugs out, too.
She gestured to Kye. Can I patch him up at your motel? Then we can wrap this up – she glanced at Cas, then back to the Winchesters – and we won’t bother you anymore.
“Of course,” Sam said.
Kye grabbed the notebook from Aneia, writing something he only showed to her.
It was necessary. He’ll let me go. She replied. He searched her face.
“I will,” Castiel said. Kye flinched back from him. “I keep my word,” the angel promised.
Kye stared, like he wanted to say something. He was struggling to control himself.
Let’s go back to the motel. We can figure everything out there. Aneia held the notebook out to him pointedly. He studied her for a moment longer before taking the notebook, nodding.
She helped him up, and they made their way back to the door. Dean was sore, but he didn’t think he’d gotten anything worse than bruises from Remiel’s hit. Cas looked about the same – occasionally adjusted the sleeve where Remiel had grabbed him. Sam and Eileen hadn’t gotten hurt. The Nymphs were a bit behind them, so he couldn’t check them over. That was fine. He wasn’t worried.
When he got to the car, he held his hands out for the keys. Aneia gave them back, and the hunters spent a moment cleaning off their weapons before stowing them in the trunk. Kye was leaning heavily on the car, and Dean had a bad feeling he might bleed on the seats. Whatever. It wouldn’t be the first time.
There wasn’t enough room for everyone in the Impala, so Castiel said he’d meet them back at the motel and disappeared. The Nymphs didn’t relax, and the drive back to the motel was silent and awkward.
Cas was waiting for them when they got back. Aneia slipped past him and led Kye to the bathroom. Dean didn’t get a good look before she shut the door, but it looked like mind control wasn’t the only harm Remiel had inflicted on Kye. As if that wasn’t bad enough.
They heard the water start running.
“Well,” Sam said. “That was…”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed.
“Hey, did you get any idea why Remiel was doing all this? Is there another Heaven plot we need to be worried about?” Sam asked.
“I didn’t hear anything from the angels I asked,” Cas said.
“Well, yeah, but if they were planning something, they probably wouldn’t tell you, right?” Sam said.
Cas looked a little hurt, but it was a fair point. “No,” Dean said. “I mean, the guy called hunters an ‘arrogant plague,’ but he didn’t mention any plan.”
“Great,” Sam sighed. “It’s probably too much to hope he was working alone.”
“Coulda been,” Dean said.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
The faucet turned off, and Aneia opened the door, stepping back out into the main room.
Thank you. She wrote. There shouldn’t be any more swan dives from the cliff.
“Of course,” Sam said. “Thanks for your help. Are you okay?”
Aneia smiled. We’re safe.
“Are you ready?” Castiel asked.
She blinked, then nodded slowly. He closed the space between them and placed his hands on her temples. There was a flicker of pain on her face, then she relaxed. Castiel stepped back.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded, smiling gratefully. She motioned Kye to join them. He’d waited in the bathroom, apparently still suspicious of them.
Thank you again, Aneia wrote, passing Dean the notepad. Then she thought of something. She put a hand up to say, wait a moment. She pulled two of the pages off the notepad and wrote on them. She handed one to Sam and one to Eileen. They both had the same cell phone number written on them. She pointed to herself – mine.
“Thanks,” Sam said, a little confused. “So we can call you if we need you?”
Aneia smiled and mimed tapping on a phone screen with her thumbs.
“Or text,” Eileen corrected.
That did make more sense.
Aneia gave them a thumbs up, then waved farewell and headed to the door. Kye gave them one last look, a warning, before shutting it behind them.
“Well,” Dean said. “Kye seemed a little … grouchy.”
“He’s just scared,” Sam said. “Aneia was nice enough.”
“I doubt my presence helped,” Cas said.
“It’s not your fault,” Eileen assured him. “It must be hard.”
“And either way, I think we made some friends,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” Eileen smiled. “I should get going. I was working a case in Idaho.”
“You don’t need any help, do you?” Sam asked.
“I got it covered,” Eileen said.
“I’m sure you do,” Sam smiled. “Thanks for coming up.”
“No problem. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
Dean laughed. “Trust me, none of us saw that twist coming.”
“You were great,” Sam added.
She gave him another smile. “See you later,” she said.
Then, it was just the three of them again. Dean stretched, working at the knot in his shoulder from being thrown at a metal shelf. “Time to head back to the bunker?” he suggested.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Let’s go home.”