better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

twenty-three: who are you trying to convince there, love?

A/N: This is on the heavier side, I guess? Not really, but there's some manipulative talk in here and Ketch's true colors really show. And tw for drugging (?) if that makes you at all uncomfortable

While Arthur is in his last meeting, I make the time to return Dean's calls.

            Typical Dean, though, he doesn't pick up when I call. They must be on a hunt somewhere, or finding Kelly, knowing them. I'm sure it's important, whatever it is.

            I still decide to leave him a voicemail.

            "Hey Dean," I pause, leaning back against the railing outside on of the blocks. "This is me returning your call like I promised, and you not answering like the ass you are," I chuckle. "I'm kidding, but I...I miss you guys. And I accept your apology. I'll swing by tomorrow and we can talk about this – and everything, I guess." We – as a family – have never been good at these types of mushy situations. "Just call me back whenever. See you soon." I pause. "Love you." And hang up.

            That's enough of that.

            I glance at the time, seeing that Arthur still has about a few minutes left in his meeting. And, coincidentally, the Armory is calling my name.

            The damn package has been plaguing my brain ever since I heard him on the phone. What the hell is so special in there that it has to be in the Armory, and flown back to England?

            I don't know, but since I can go wherever I need to, I'm going to go find out for myself.

            I make my way down the hall, taking a right into the Armory. It's dark, thankfully, meaning I am alone. I flip the switch and shut the door behind me, listening as it locks.

            My eyes scan the walls of weaponry, moving to the floor to look for a package. There's black boxes up against the wall toward the back, but one particularly large one catches my eye.

            Slowly, I step closer, reading the label. 12257.

            That's the one.

            I glance behind me for good measure, finding no one. I take a deep breath, lifting the lid on the package.

            And in a matter of seconds, I wish I had left it alone.

            Tears spring to my eyes, the lid nearly slipping out of my hands as I stare down at Mick.

            Mick's dead. All this time.

            Ketch said Mick was in London.

            That lying bastard.

            I close the lid and lock it, turning on my heels and practically sprinting out of the room. I need to get back to the bunker – now. Regardless of if my brothers are there or on a hunt, I need to get out of here.

            I'm nearly running but trying to slow it to a speed-walk as I race through the halls, a few people passing me and nodding their heads. Being associated with Ketch around here has its perks, but right now they make me feel sick to my stomach.

            As I'm rounding the corner, so is Ketch.

            I immediately reel back, this time actually running in the other direction as I search for an open room. I take a turn down a hall I rarely go to, finding myself among rooms I've never seen before.

            Without thinking, I place my hand on one of the scanners.

            Access Denied.