~VIII~ – Tracking the Witch

"You really got no place to be?" asks Dean as we sit in his car, scouting out the Wallace house. I've been sitting in this contraption since he pulled up to this street. He'd talked to Mrs. Wallace, but he had no luck. So apparently when you fail, you stalk the house.

I don't understand humans.

Between us are a bunch of unwrapped, some still wrapped, sweets. My nose wrinkles at the smell, and I look at Dean in disgust as he just scarfs the morsels down.

"No demons to slay?"

"Right now, aiding you and your brother to stop Samhain is more important," I tell him. "You two won't be able to handle him alone."

"We've handled some pretty powerful hitters and managed them just fine."

"By 'just fine' you mean nearly dying." I raise a brow.

Dean just glares at me. I jump as loud music starts in the car. Dean picks up his phone and checks who's calling before he answers. "Hey."

"How's it going?" It's Sam's voice on the other end. I lean in, inspecting the phone. Dean shoos me away, giving me an odd stare.

"Awesome, yeah, I talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again. I've been sitting out in front of her house for hours and I've got a big steamy pile of nothing."

"Look, Dean, someone planted those hex bags, someone with access to both houses. There's gotta be some connection."

"Yeah, well I hope we find 'em soon cause I'm starting to cramp like a—" Dean abruptly stops talking, and I don't understand why until I notice the blonde girl walking up to the Wallace house. "Son of a bitch."

"Quit whining."

"No, Sam, I mean, son of a bitch."

"What does that translate to in Dean Winchester language?" I ask.

"Means we've got the witch we're looking for."

"Tracy?" I remember her from the Halloween party that ended horribly. She'd been so distraught over the dead. "You think she's the witch?"

"Head back guys."

"On our way," says Dean, who ends the call. I start as the car roars to life. Dean smirks at my jumpiness. "Don't try and zap us back to the motel room."

"Believe me, I have no strength for that. There is a limitation on my powers."

The drive back to the motel room takes forever, which makes me wish I had teleported myself and Dean back. I'm more than happy to leave the contraption behind as we get back to Sam in the motel room.

"So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?" Sam greets us, referring to Dean's recent discovery.

"Tracy?"

"Mhm."

"The Wallaces' babysitter. Told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace."

"Huh, interesting look for a centuries-old witch."

"Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would, hmm..."

I roll my eyes as Dean is lost in his thoughts as he sits on the bed. I look to Sam, pleading for some more news and no more silence.

"Well, Tracy's not as wholesome as she looks. Did some digging—apparently she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers, got suspended from school." Sam hands Dean the computer and Dean inspects it.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Let's go talk to the teacher."

"You two go do that, I'll keep guard here," I say.

"You just don't like Baby," Dean retorts to me.

I cock my head. "I don't like what? What even is that?"

"Are you angels all clueless?"

"When it comes to the things of the supernatural, no. But to what you just said, absolutely." I wave the Winchesters away. "Go, see what you can dig up about Tracy. I'll be alright here. Don't worry if I'm not here when you return. You know, other engagements and all that."

"I won't be offended, trust me," Dean deadpans. "Let's go, Sam."

As the Winchesters leave the motel room, I'm left to my own devices. I further investigate the room and see just how the humans live. The beds the boys sleep on are the furthest things from comfortable. As I'm taking in the appalling wallpaper of the room, my sense tingles. There's a thrum of magic in the air.

I put my hands on the wall, using them as a guide to the sudden magic. How come I didn't detect it before?

My search is distracted at hearing two sets of angel wings. I visibly tense, and my first reaction is to pull out the angel blade at my side.

"So, this is where you've been," comes the deep baritone of my brother, Uriel.

I stare at the wall, refusing to turn. "Did you miss me, brother?"

"Like most, I didn't."

I snort, turning. I'm also in the presence of Castiel. Uriel's vessel has dark skin and is dressed professionally. Castiel's vessel bears a trench coat, blue eyes, and very mussed hair. "Hello, Castiel. You seem to be the only one who doesn't throw hurtful words in my face."

"I've heard things about you, Vera." His voice is not as deep as Uriel's, but there's a certain gruffness to it.

"What do I owe the pleasure of this surprise?"

Uriel goes to the one window in the motel room and stares out of it. Castiel walks to where I am. It clicks for me. He senses the magic, too. He moves a little bit away from me, before he goes through the wall and retrieves a small hex bag. My eyes widen. How did I miss that?

"Were you looking for this?" Castiel asks me, holding the bag out for me.

"I was," I say thickly. "Thank you." I look at Uriel. "I see you haven't changed any, Uriel. As stoic and silent as always. I don't miss that."

"I don't miss your comments, either, sister."

I swallow. "Look, if you plan to bring me back to put me through more obedience training—"

"Everything is not about you, Vera." Uriel still remains at the window. He turns to me. "Since you are with the Winchesters, I am correct to assume that you know about Samhain?"

I nod. "I do."

"Have you stopped his summoning?"

Before I can answer, Sam and Dean are back from their trip. Sam has a weapon raised at Castiel.

"Who are you?!" he demands.

"Sam!" Dean says, getting in front of his brother. I take a somewhat defensive stance in front of Castiel. "Sam, wait! It's Castiel." Dean puts a hand on Sam's weapon, pushing it down. Sam is stunned. "The angel." Dean takes note of Uriel. "Him, I don't know."

Sam gets a familiar look on his face. It reminds me of the one he had when I first told him I was an angel. It gives him a boyish look.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel says politely.

"Oh my God," Sam begins to babble, giddy, "er—uh—I didn't mean to—sorry. It's an honor, really, I—I've heard a lot about you." He steps forward to shake Castiel's hand. Dean shuts the door. Castiel regards Sam's outstretched hand but realizes he's supposed to shake it.

"And I, you. Sam Winchester—the boy with the demon blood. Glad to see you've ceased your extracurricular activities."

The look on Sam's face makes him look younger, like a kicked puppy.

"Let's keep it that way," Uriel states.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles," says Dean. He looks to Castiel and I. "Who's your friend?"

"This raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?" Castiel asks Dean.

"Why?"

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we've located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?"

"No," says Sam, "but—"

"We know who it is," Dean cuts his brother off.

"Apparently the witch knows who you are too," I say quietly. Castiel shows the Winchesters the hex bag. "This was inside the wall of the room. If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"

"We're working on it."

"That's unfortunate," says Castiel.

"What do you care?"

"The raising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals."

"Gee, Vera, way to keep that from us." Dean glares at me. "When did you want to share that piece of info? So this is about your buddy Lucifer."

"Lucifer is no friend of ours," Uriel growls.

"It's just an expression."

"Lucifer cannot rise," says Castiel. "The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs."

"Okay, great, well now that you're here, why don't you tell us where the witch is? We'll gank her, and everybody goes home."

"Do you really believe we're going against an amateur, Dean?" I scoff. "We can't track the witch."

"Vera is right," Castiel sides with me. "We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful, she's cloaked even our methods."

"Okay," says Sam, "well, we already know who she is, so if we work together—"

"Enough of this," Uriel says.

"Okay, who are you and why should I care?" Dean snaps.

I step back warily as Uriel glowers at Dean.

"This is Uriel," says Castiel, "he's what you might call a...specialist."

"What kind of specialist? What are you gonna do?"

"You—uh, both of you—you need to leave this town immediately."

"Why?"

"Because we're about to destroy it."