To Ketch a Winchester @mystic75
Chapter 1

I do not own any characters from Supernatural and I am not profiting from this work.

There will be direct dialogue from season 12, episode 20: Twigs & Twine & Tasha Banes. While the majority of the dialogue in this chapter is directly taken from the show, most of the interaction between Mary and Ketch is my original work.

This couldn't be happening. Not while she was alone in this place. Well, not really alone. There were others here, but she was effectively alone. If her suspicions about the people she was working with were correct, no one would help her. Sitting on the bed in her tiny room made from a shipping container, Mary Winchester hoped she was wrong. Witnessing Arthur Ketch, the man she was partnered with, the man that she had taken to her bed, torturing a shape shifter for information had her believing that these British Men of Letters were not who they claimed to be. And it wasn't so much the torture, per se, that bothered her. It was the fact that Ketch had enjoyed it.

Mary jumped to her feet and wrenched the heavy metal door open. She was going to find out what was going on and she was going to confront Arthur Ketch. He was going to explain to her what the Hell was going on or she was gone. But deep down in the pit of her stomach, Mary didn't think they'd let her go so easily. Looking back, she realized all the times that Ketch talked her out of answering the phone or telling her to "shut that bloody thing off!", were attempts at isolating her from her family. She was through letting them keep her from her boys. She pulled her phone from her pocket as she walked down the corridor toward the briefing room and listened to the last message from Dean.

"Mom. Hey, uh, just wanted to let you know that, uh, me and Sam... we're uh, we're heading out on a case with those witch twins, uh, Max and Alicia. Um, I'll text you the info, but, uh...I know the Brits have got you running nonstop. So if you can help out, that'd be great. Um... and even if you can't swing by, can you call me back? Just some stuff going down that's... kind of got me spun out. Be good to talk to you." When the message ended she paused for a moment and stood there with her eyes closed. She was hurting her children and it was killing her. But she had to put that aside for the moment. She had a more pressing matter to deal with. She sighed and continued down the hall when she suddenly heard Ketch talking on the phone and she froze, hiding around the corner from the briefing room.

"Well, I can't just send him to you economy comfort, now can I? The package is in the armory now. We gave it a lot number 1-2-2-5-7. Mm-hmm. We'll speak when you get in. Ta." Mary's phone began to vibrate with yet another call from Dean. She sent the call to voicemail quickly and rounded the corner, almost running running right into Ketch's broad chest.

"Hey!", Mary sighed, smiling nervously. She backed away a few steps and looked up at him with her arms wrapped around her chest. Ketch followed her, putting a finger under her chin to make her look at him. The smile he gave her sent a cold shiver up her spine and Ketch seemed to notice that something was off. The smile faded from his lips and he looked deep into her eyes, searching for something. His piercing stare was too much and Mary had to look away.

"Can I help you with something?", Ketch breathed, straightening up again.

"I, uh... I use Mick's computer for e-mail." Mary skirted around Ketch and and sat down at Mick's desk. Ketch cocked an eyebrow and gestured toward the computer, with a halfhearted smile plastered on his face.

"Uh, uh, yeah, well, have at it." Mary began to type but stopped when she felt Ketch step up behind her and place his large hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him and he smiled down at her. She shook her head and turned her head back to the screen to open her emails.

"There's a message from Mick. It says he's gonna be stuck in London a few more weeks", Mary moaned in frustration. Mick was the one person she thought might admit to what was going on and he had been MIA for months. Ketch had warned her that Mick had a lot to answer for back in England and would probably not be coming back anytime soon. Mary guessed he was right.

"Hmm. Well..there you are", Ketch smiled wide, messaging the muscles along the back of her neck. When his thumbs ran up the back of her head and through her hair, Mary jerked involuntarily. Ketch dropped his hands, turned, and walked from the room. Mary had intended to talk to Ketch about what was going on, but after listening to Ketch's conversation on the phone and seeing his strange behavior, Mary didn't know what to do. But then she remembered Dean and his mile long list of voicemails. She pulled her phone out and dialed his number, but after a half dozen rings, Dean's voicemail picked up..

"This is Dean's other other cell, so you must know what to do." Mary smiled at the message. 'How many phones does he have?', Mary thought absentmindedly.

"Hey it's me. Sorry I couldn't pick up before. I've been on a hunt with Ketch. And Dean... I'm sorry I haven't been there for you and Sam. But I wanna be. I will be. I just... I need to finish this. I miss you boys. I love you." Mary hung up and decided to check out that package in the armory. She switched on the light in the room and searched around for the package with the right ID number. It was a large metal crate about 6 feet long. She opened the box slowly, not knowing what could be inside.

"Ohh. Mick", Mary breathed sadly, closing her eyes. Mick lay in the crate, dead from a gun shot to the back of his head. She had to get out of here now! Before she ended up in her own metal box. She closed the box gently and walked from the room. She ran down the hallway toward the exit, but sees Ketch walking toward her from the other end. She turns around and rounds a corner, pressing her hand to several door access panels, trying to get in one of them to hide. "Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!", Mary growls under her breathe. She sees a man walk out of a door nearby, and scurries through before the door closes. She looked around the room and the far wall was covered in monitors. Photos of hunters like Dean, Sam, Garth, and Eileen filled the screens. "What the...?" She pressed a recording under Dean's picture with a confused look on her face.

"So now we're reporting to low-rent Christian Bale? Seriously? I don't like that guy. He creeps me out." Dean's voice sent a chill up her spine. She pulled her phone out of her pocket with trembling hands and immediately called Dean. Unfortunately, all she got was his voicemail.

"Dean, call me. We've got a problem." She turned and opened the door to find Ketch standing on the other side. She gasped, backing back into the room, as Ketch stepped through the doorway.

"Hello Mary", Ketch purred, closing the door behind him. "Your hand print doesn't open this room because it's not for you."

"What are you doing here?", Mary asks, gesturing toward the wall of monitors. "And why is Mick's body in a box?" She tried to make her voice sound demanding, but her whole body was shaking and it didn't come out as strong as she wanted it to.

"An unfortunate werewolf mishap", Ketch retorted with an indifferent shrug.

"A werewolf shot him in the head?", Mary scoffed in disbelief. Ketch seemed unconcerned by her question as he walked slowly toward her.

"It's not impossible." Mary huffed a humorless laugh at his ridiculous response. She knew, even without having to ask, who killed Mick. She could see it Ketch's smile. The smile that didn't touch his eyes. His eyes were cold and uncaring.

"You're a psychopath", Mary seethed, trying to walk passed Ketch and out the door. But he grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall of touch screens, making the pictures on several monitors shudder and jump.

"Mary...", Ketch breathed in her face while he held her wrists on either side of her head. She struggled to get away, lifting her knee to try to catch him in the groin. Ketch shoved his entire body against her to keep her firmly in place. Ketch was breathing hard now and Mary was pretty sure that it wasn't just from trying to hold a struggling woman. His pupils were blown with arousal and she could feel his hard erection pressing against her stomach. There was a time, not too long ago, that this would have turned her on. But now she was doing everything in her power not to throw up. Ketch dropped one of her wrists and wrapped around her throat quickly before she could attempt to pull away.

"Mick was weak. He wasn't one of us!", Ketch spat at her angrily. "But, neither are you. Not really." He leaned in close and rubbed his nose against the side of Mary's face, breathing in her scent. Jasmin and something smoky, like she'd been standing too close to a campfire. A scent that was pure Mary Winchester. A scent that made his cock twitch. "You are just a tool. The machete wielded by the true hero of this story, the Men of Letters... and me." Mary turned her face away when Ketch tried to kiss her. She tried to shove him off with her one free hand but he was bigger and stronger than she was. She was just no match for this sadistic killer. He freed her other wrist and grabbed her hip, digging his nails into her flesh harshly. She tried to pry his hand off her throat, but it only made him squeeze tighter. "It's time you learned, Mary Winchester, the Men of Letters' first rule."

"Once you're in, there is no getting out. You belong to us... to me."

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