Dean struggled against the arm of the girl holdong him to the wall. She was strong, he'd give her that.

Mac are you aboot done over there? The girl holding him called, oblivious to the fact she was practically yelling in his ear.

Dean winced.

Och aye, she's aboot bound up, the other girl replied with a thickening Scottish accent.

A phone rang from somewhere close to him.

Bloody fucking hell the girl holding him cursed. She fished the phone out of her pocket with her free hand. Hallo?

Dean was close enough he could hear the other side of the converstation through the phone.

Iri, you find any leads on Dracul yet? The other voice was definitely a man.

Aye Uncle Rom, we found something. Mac's wrapping it up in a box now.

Ooch, doona tell me you're bringing me back a head!

Ack! Uncle Rom! Do ya really think we'd bring you back a head?

Doona bring me back a ghoul either.

Too late!

Damn it Iryal Rose!

Doona fasch yourself uncle. She won't be able to cause trouble. Mac made sure of it.

I doona care! Just doona bring her back to headquarters! Ya ken?

Aye.

The line went dead. Dean stared at the girl in mute shock. She had gone from a normal accent to a Scottish one in less tha a second.

Oi! She's all wrapped up and ready for transport! the other girl, who Dean guessed was called Mac, yelled.

We cannae bring her back to headquarters the one hold him replied.

Oh aye, I ken it, Mac nodded. Question is, where do we take her to question her?

Ack! We doona have a place that can hold her and you cannae keep that spell up forever.

the sister, who he guessed was Iri, grumbled.

He only knew they were sisters because they were absolutely identical in appearance.

Well it's not my fault we're not allowed to bring monsters back for questioning! Mac snapped in one of the few languages Dean understood.

Perhaps we could be of assistance? Sam asked.

Dean couldn't fault him for offering the Men of Letters' bunker. But he wasn't exactly sure they should bring a vampire back nor show these girls where they lived. Well, they shouldn't show Iri where they lived. There was something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on but whatever it was, he didn't trust her.

We don't have anything to hold her either, Sammy he choked out.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Iri looked back at him, slightly surprised.

No more questions that cannae be answered she ordered before lettling him drop to the ground.

Gee thanks for the help guys Dean coughed and rubbed his throat.

Cas and Sam stared at him. He glared back.

Let me see Iri all but ordered him.

He got the distinct feeling she liked ordering people around. Regardless, he stood and tilted his head back for her to see.

Och she muttered more to herself than to anyone.

Dean watched as she made her way to a small backpack, that he hadn't seen before that moment, and rummaged around in it for a moment. As she rummaged around, she cursed under her breath.

Ah! There ya are ya wee, slippery bastard! She exclaimed. Here, this'll help keep it from bruising too badly and help it heal faster.

She began applying some sort of cream to his neck with deft fingers. Dean angled his head so he could see her better and studied her.

She had long silver hair that was meticuluosly braided, yet several strands escaped and hung on either side of her face. Her face still rounded with youth but her silver eyes held a haunted look that didn't suit her. She was short enough that Dean could tuck her safely beneath his chin, but he knew first hand that her size was deceiving. She also weilded her machete with uncannily practised ease for someone who looked so very young.

She can't be more than 16 or 17 he though to himself.

How did you bind a vampire? he heard Sam ask Mac.

It's simple really she replied before going into a long explaination of how she'd bound the vamp.

Iri glanced over her shoulder.

Ghouls or no, this whole thing was too easy, she mumbled.

Ghouls? Dean questioned looking down at her at last.

She shrugged that's what we call them. She motioned to the vamp that Mac had bound.

We?

Iri shrugged again, it's the first thing we knew to call them.

Wait, the Men of Letters have a file on an organization that called vampires ghouls. Sam said. They were called the Assassins.

We still are! Iri snapped. We learned to adapt while the Men of Letters were stuck in their ways and slowly died out!

Wait, you're assassins? Sam asked.

Technically, I'm an Alchemist not an Assassin. Mac answered. It's how I know how to do things like bind ghouls. Iri's the Assassin. That's why most of the ghouls here are dead.

And how long'd it take you to do that? Dean asked skeptical of the girl's abilities, though he'd seen some of what she could do himself. He crossed his arms.

Two minutes, tops Iri replied with a shrug.

Two minutes? Sam asked incredulously.

Eh, I could have done it faster than that. She shrugged again.

What do you mean you could have done it faster? Dean demanded.

We're trained to kill as quickly and efficiently as possible so there's less of a mess for the Alchemists to clean up afterwards. Iri answered. The slower you are to kill the monsters the more likely you are to die at their hands.

Kill or be killed I take it? Sam asked.

Bout the same as in you line of work I'd say, Mac replied.

Aren't you both a little young to be ganking vamps? Dean asked staring down at the girls.

Not when you kill your first one at the tender age of ten, Iri answered going to her sister and collecting her machete. I've been doing this longer than most of the older apprentices have.

And that makes you how old? Dean asked watching as she put away their weapons and retrieved a few vials from the backpack.

We're 25 if that makes any difference, Iri shrugged again. Not like age matters to the higher ups anyway. 'Specially mum.

Dean stared at both girls.

There's no way they're five years younger than me and two years younger than Sam, he thought. There's just no possible way!

Then why do you look like you're in your teens? he demanded throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Iri and Mac shared a long look. Mac sighed.

We need their help whether or not you or I like it, Iri pointed out. Might as well show them what we truly look like.

Mac grumbled something Dean couldn't hear or understand before she fished a knife from her boot. In one quick motion, she opened her palm with the wicked looking blade. She barely flinched at the pain from what he could tell. She walked over to her sister and began painting symbols he didn't recognize on her face in blood. The symbols glowed for a moment before sinking into her skin. As he watched, in horror and awe, Iri's face began to change. It became one that was older; one that matched the haunted look in her eyes. It was one full of scars.