Losing Hope (A Supernatural fanfic; book two)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

This is what makes us girls, we don't look for heaven and we put love first. It's something that we'd die for. It's our curse - This is What makes us Girls (Lana Del Ray)

"Are you sure this is where Crowley's holed up?" Dean squinted through the windscreen at the dilapidated factory. Vines creeped their way up the walls, grass wove through the wire fence, and the rust on the tin roof was visible, even from the distance.

"My source say this is the location," replied Hope, climbing out of the car with uncharacteristic elegence. "He is in one of the lower levels, probably the basement, with the tablet and a few demons. The demons shouldn't be a problem."

Handing a gun to his big brother, Sam looked up from the trunk, "Did your 'source' tell you this? Who even is your source?"

"Heaven is my source, Sam. Did you think they'd send me in for a mission blind?" She twirled her angel blade around her fingers lightly, "I'm in intelligence, I have access to a great deal of Heaven's archives, and the ones I don't technically have access to, " she winked "... well, lets just say I know how to access those ones, too".

Sam's gut twisted painfully, he didn't trust her. Not anymore. He knew first hand how Heaven could twist somebody into a weapon. Every single one of the angels he had known had been destructive and murderous in the name of Heaven, even if they hadn't meant to be. A sudden breeze blew through him and his fear subsided, he still remembered what he was afraid of. But Sam could no longer summon up that particular emotion. He stared at Hope, who was now creating tiny whirlwinds in the dusty dirt, as Dean loaded his gun and hid several blades in his pockets. He'd forgotten Hope could feel other peoples' emotions, and he wondered if that particular talent stretched to controlling them as well.

"We ready to go?" the previously mentioned angel suddenly chirped, dusting her hands on her practical grey trousers. Despite her impeccable appearence, Hope didn't seem to pay any mind to the pale dirty handprints now smeared down her thighs.

Dean looked toward Sam, who nodded quietly and stuffed his gun in his waistband. "Yep", the elder hunter replid finally. "I think we're ready to roll."

"Great," Hope grinned, her smile seeming genuine, even to Sam, this time. It was, she was going to get that tablet back if it killed her. She was going to get her angel back if it killed her. "I would fly us in, but there's a lot of warding up, like, a lot of warding, and I don't want to set something off if I can't get past the warding with passengers."

Sam eyed the rusty door. Dean simply shrugged, seeming noncholant about the situation, he was, in a way. He certainly had been in worse situations, and Hope had always pulled everyone through, seemingly with sheer force of will and a stubborn streak that was usually more useful than it was annoying. "I guess we're doing this the old fashioned way. Just like old times, hey, Hope?"

She could see through his facade, but her own was impenetrable as always. "Just like old times," Hope agreed, her blade resting in her palm lightly and desperation resting in her heart heavily. This was her once chance of saving Castiel, and she wasn't going to screw this one up.

•°•°•°

There was warding absolutely everywhere, though it had yet to affect Hope she could read what they were supposed to do if activated. One was to rip an angel from its vessel, the other to decapiate, whatever the warding was they were all placed for maximum brutality. "Where's Sam?" asked Hope quietly, hardly daring to breath in the sticky stillness of the factory.

"Checking for hostages, prisoners... and he's looking for Amy." Dean changed the subject with all the subtlety of a drunk bear, "What are you gonna do once you get this tablet?"