A new Working Stiffs

Title: Which Witch is Which
Genre: Man from UNCLE - Working Stiffs
Rating: PG
Word count: 3151
Summary: UNCLE has many specialists, some a bit more unexpected than others.

My thanks to sparky955 for her advice and beta help! :DD

When I was growing up, Halloween was never exactly a basket of roses. I’d watch girls my age dress up in black gowns and peaked hats. They’d paint their faces green and stick on fake warts and announce that they were witches… which is really, really annoying to those of us who are… witches, I mean. I’m not a great looker, but small children don’t hide their faces in their mother’s skirts nor do dogs howl when I walk by.

I was about five when I realized things were a bit different around our house. Instead of flowers, my folks grew herbs and they weren’t just the regular sort. You tell me how many people you know who have Deadly Nightshade or wolfsbane mixed in among their oregano and basil. Among the pots and pans in the cupboard was a cauldron and the scent of sage, frankincense, and other herbs permanently scented the air.

There were carefully-placed charms over doors and windows and a protective line of salt along each door threshold.

I had to hand it to my folks. They handled all my questions with aplomb and patience. They encouraged me, protected me, and helped nurture my own talents. I was better at scything than botanicals, but my mom insisted that I learned it. Her spell book would, one day, be mine and I needed to understand it.

I sort of floated through school, learning to read, write, and figure during the day. At night, my lessons took on a darker side as I learned spells, curses, and hexes. It was to my great relief that, to date, I’ve not had any use for the latter two.

One day I was sitting on a bench, my calculus book open and my eyes closed. In the giant scheme of things, calculus seemed such an annoyance. It was boring, dull and pointless.

“It does have a point, you know.”

A strange voice beside me made me jump. I opened my eyes and a little old man was sitting on the other end of the bench and smiling at me.

“What has a point?”

“Calculus.” He smiled this little smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It teaches us to sleep with our eyes open.”

I laughed. “Are you a mind reader?” His aura was a pleasant yellow/orange, so I knew he wasn’t up to anything untoward.

“Well, of a sort. I read people and it doesn’t take a good deal of talent to see you are bored and reason out the cause.” He extended a hand and I took it. “I’m Tom Kelley.”

“Hello, Mr. Kelley. I’m Donna Faber.” We shook and then both sat back. It was a lovely fall day. The leaves were turning brilliant shades of reds and oranges.

“Do you believe in fate, Miss Faber?”

“You mean like kismet or serendipity?” He nodded. “I guess so. Why?”

He handed me a card. “We are looking for people like you.”

“You mean people struggling with calculus? There are more of us?”

He smiled this enigmatic smile. “You know what I mean. We could use someone with your special talents.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of him, but tucked the card in the pocket of my jacket. Had I known what was awaiting me just a few hours later, I probably would have jumped into his arms and begged him to not let me go.

My therapist told me that it was unhealthy to dwell upon a situation, but when you had one as violent and earthshattering as I did, I don’t see how you couldn’t. A few frat boys decided that they were going to see just exactly what a real witch was made of. Five of them tackled me as I walked home from my night class. What they did to me shouldn’t happen to my worst enemy and when the police refused to follow up because the boys were from ‘good families and I was probably asking for it to begin with’ I had a nervous breakdown. I had never felt so violated and betrayed.

Still even then, I couldn’t bring myself to take my pound of flesh from them. The coven did it for me and without my knowledge or I would have begged them to stop. It was ugly and dark and it totally fit the crime, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

The police finally returned my clothes, books and other stuff, but it sat in a pile in the corner of my room. Just to think of it was enough to send me into a tail spin for days afterwards. My mom took it upon herself to clear the mess away.

She was going through the pockets of my jacket and pulled out a wrinkled and stained card. “Donna, sweetheart, who is Tom Kelley?”

I smiled in spite of myself. “He’s a dear old man I met at school that day. He said his employer was looking for people like me.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Probably doesn’t want damaged goods now, though.”

She smiled and sat beside me. “I think perhaps you should give him a call. I don’t know why, but I have this feeling that you need each other.”

And thus began my employment with U.N.C.L.E.



How my world changed then. As much as I thought they wouldn’t be interested, they were. People, good honest people were standing ready to help me with whatever I needed. Because of them and their efforts, I began to crawl out of the hole I’d been cast into. When I left the coven, they assured me I would always be welcomed back into the fold. My folks said the same thing. If it didn’t work out, there would always be a place with them.

However, Mr. Kelly, Tom was always there. He made sure I didn’t eat alone when I first started at work. He made sure I had something to do on the weekends, either a nice home-cooked meal or a trip to a museum or even a show. He made sure the apartment I rented was a good one. And he made sure I met good people and he made sure I knew he was always there for me. And he taught me that knowledge is power and power is everything. With him I felt powerful.



“I’m a witch, you know.” I said it aloud and without fear. Of course, being able to sense auras told me who I could and couldn’t be honest with.

Mr. Kuryakin had sat down at my table with a shy smile and started to eat. Some folks steered clear of the Section Two agents, but I knew there was nothing to fear from him.

I made my declaration and he looked up at me from over the top of his glasses and smiled, his fork paused between his mouth and his plate. “Yes, I know.” And he resumed eating. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tom and he gave me a thumbs up. That made me brave.

“And you are okay eating with me?”

“I’m a scientist,” he said it with such finality that I had to ask.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Well, I see that there isn’t very much difference between us. The ingredients have different names, but in the end, we both make something from something else. You call it a spell, I call it a formula. You make a potion, I make a solution. Same religion, different church, as far as I can tell.”

At that point, I knew we would be friends. His partner, Napoleon, is an elegant, sophisticated sort of fellow and it wasn’t his fault that he brought up bad memories of my attackers. At least he knew what ‘no’ meant and didn’t pester me. Besides, I knew a couple of things about him that I suspect not even he knew. Knowledge is power and power is everything.



After a few months, I felt safe enough to move into my own place. It wasn’t much, but it was my safe haven. It had protective charms to keep harm from me and, like home it was heavily scented. It smelled sweetly of cinnamon, for healing, and yarrow, for courage. And of lavender for protection and peppermint just because I liked how it smelled. It defined home and health to me. Tom visited me many times, first it was for something for his rheumatism, but eventually for tea and conversation. I loved those times. It was like having my grandfather again. I still missed my folks deeply and spoke to them as much as I could. And the coven, how I missed them, but gradually I settled into a new way of life.

My job with UNCLE was less defined than many. Often I was called up to read auras or see if something created a vision. I was as wrong as much I was right, but Mr. Waverly seemed happy with that. I created various herbal remedies in my own ‘lab’ as Illya called it and used them mostly to comfort and relax injured or traumatized agents. Even the women started to come around, shyly asking about love potions or some other nonsense. It felt good and I felt established.

Or to help them sleep, something that Mr. Solo kept me busy with. He never seemed to sleep, that one, even with all the running around he did. Chamomile worked well on him, though.

The seasons came and went. The day hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been very successful, either. I was working on a tricky potion that was determined to get the better of me. I actually had to burn frankincense to dispel the stench of my last attempt. It was time to talk to someone back home about what I was doing wrong.

“Enough,” I said to my familiar, a lovely raven named Edgar. He shifted on his perch and cocked his head. “It’s time, Edgar. Let’s go home.”

He ruffled his feathers, as if to shake the day from them and hopped down from his perch. I stroked him softly, giving thanks to the Powers that led him to me. Satisfied, he let me put him in his carrier and I headed home.

Again, if I’d had any idea what awaited me there, I never would have left the office, at least not alone.

Warning bells went off in my head as I approached my apartment. Edgar croaked something and I opened the carrier door. He was out in a flash, feathers ruffled and his manner agitated. He practically danced in the hallway, alerting me even more.

The door to my apartment was slightly ajar and the protective spell cast on it was badly broken.

“Edgar, get help. Find Illya.”

He hesitated as if confused and then he was off like a flash. I was watching after him when my arm was grabbed and five years of therapy vanished in a few seconds. However, now I was more physically capable and I fought like a banshee, but to no avail.

Thankfully, they weren’t interested in my body. They tossed me aside onto my couch and when I tried to scream, a pistol was stuck in my face.

“You scream, you die.”

That sort of took all the mystery out of it. I nodded silently and it was only then that I saw my poor living room. What wasn’t broken was splattered with blood.

There goes my security deposit I thought, then I stopped. But whose blood?

Not that I really wanted an answer, but in the darkening shadows, I could see two figures slumped in my kitchen chairs. Their auras told me they were both injured, angry and just a little worried. Then one of them stirred.

“Donna?” My heart dropped. It was Illya. I’d forgotten I’d invited him to dinner that evening. I was going to teach him a couple of my easier spells. That meant the other one was Napoleon. He was coming by for some more chamomile.

“Illya!” I tried to go to him, but was shoved back down onto the couch.

“Sweetheart, we don’t got any interest in you. Don’t change our minds.” One man had a craggy face that had been ravaged by teen acne. It made him even scarier.

“’Kay,” I murmured. Illya was the one I’d sent Edgar for. No wonder he’d been confused.

“You stay nice and quiet.”

I tried to close my senses to the violence. My brain was screaming at me to do something… anything.

I opened my eyes just as Craggy was about to punch Illya in the face again and squeaked out. Then slowly an idea formed. “Are you… are you hungry?”

The other guy, who had been concentrating upon Mr. Solo, paused. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry… when I get nervous, I cook.” I never cook, as a rule, except in a witchy sense. Illya seemed to pick up on that.

“No, Donna, don’t.”

Craggy punched Illya savagely and he slumped down. “Crap. I thought they made UNCLE agents of sterner stuff.” He wiped his hand off on Illya’s jacket. “You know what, sweetheart, why don’t you do that?”

“I’m not sure, boss.”

“Well, I am.” The man’s aura shifted into a not very nice color and I swallowed rising bile. “I think we could eat something.”

“No tricks!”

“None, I assure you.”

How I made it to the kitchen I will never know. My knees were jelly, but it was the only thing I could think of that might work.

My little herb garden, as I referred to it, sat on a window sill in the day’s dying sun. I started to carefully cut sprigs with a special pair of scissor blessed for such a task and murmured a soft prayer to each as I did.

Oh, small plant,
I ask that you give me your gift
So that you can help me in my work
Grow stronger from my cut
Stronger and more powerful
Oh, plant.

“What are you saying?” Craggy demanded.

“Just trying to remember a recipe,” I whispered back. My hands shook as I prepared the potion. I didn’t dare use my cauldron and hoped that using a regular pan wouldn’t diminish the spell too much.

In one pot, I softened onions and garlic, then split them in two. Into one batch, I added rosemary, basil, oregano. The other I added lavender magnolia bark and eucalyptus. I longed to add Broom Flowers, but they were deadly and I didn’t want to risk it. Even so, the smell was something else and I made a face.

To the first pot, I added tomato sauce, to the second, a strong chicken broth. While they simmered, I made some pasta and then plated two, heaping them with spaghetti and sauce.

From the second pot, I strained the broth and carefully ladled it into two bowls. Putting them one a tray, I carried it to my broken, blood-splattered living room.

I set it down and left them eying the food. Carrying a bowl of broth to Illya, I murmured.

“Illya, wake up, sweetie. This will make you feel better.”

“What is that?” Craggy demanded. I tried to shield the bowl with my body.

“It’s nothing. Just something to make him feel better.”

“Wait a minute, I know you,” Second banana spoke up. “You’re the witch. I’ve seen reports about her,” he said to Craggy.

“No, I’m not!” My protest was a bit over the top.

“You are trying a fast one.” Craggy grabbed the bowl from me and sniffed. “It stinks.”

“It’s medicinal. It’s supposed to.”

“Then it’s just what I need. My hand is killing me.” Second Banana snatched up the other bowl and took a swallow. “Hey, it tastes great, loads better than it smells. Try it.”

All he really needed was about a spoonful. I’d seen that particular potion drop a charging bull in its tracks after one swallow. The bowls were empty in a flash and their smug expressions suddenly shifted.

“I did warn you.”

“What--?” Craggy managed to get out before he was a pile on the floor. I waggled my fingers at him. The bowl fell from his hand a second before Second Banana’s one dropped.

“Illya, wake up.” This time I shook him hard, but both he and Mr. Solo were down for that count. A sharp rap to the window made me squeal, but then I saw Edgar there and burst into happy tears.

I opened it and he flapped his way in, landing on the table and immediately helped himself to some spaghetti sauce.

“Careful, that’s got a lot of garlic in it.” It gives him gas. He squawked and I wiped the tears from my eyes as I reached for the phone, then I saw movement by the door. I was about to scream when I saw it was Tom Kelly. His face was white and he looked so scared.

“Donna, are you okay? When I saw Edgar, I feared the worst.”

“Oh, Tom.” Never had I been so relieved to see someone. I ran to him and half collapsed into his arms as Section Three agents started to push past us.

“What happened, child?” He stroked my hair comfortingly.

“I tricked them.” I started to babble. “I remember Illya telling me that THRUSH weren’t always the most colorful crayon in the box. They thought I was being clever; they didn’t know how right they were.”

“Are they… dead, sweetheart?”

“Just asleep, but I should try that potion on Mr. Solo next time. They never even got to the bottom of the bowl. You saved me, Tom.”

“How so?”

“You taught me that it’s all about power and knowledge is power.”

I don’t know if they ever did get the blood out of the living room. That night I packed a suitcase and went home with Tom. It was supposed to be for the night, but somehow I never left. It ended up being the perfect arrangement for both of us. His wife had passed and he was living in that big house all by himself. I looked after him and he looked after me.

Best of all, there was enough room in the back for a garden. Tom loved to cook and I loved to grow things, so in the spring we broke ground and then we planted everything, from herbs to tomatoes to pumpkins!

I still miss the coven, but I’ve met some lovely local witches. They heard about my escapades and came to me for spell casting. Tom’s taught me how to cook and I taught him how to make the rheumatism potion that gives him relief. As Tom’s so fond of reminding me, knowledge is power. And together we are very powerful indeed.