Benefactor
Benefactor
word count: 1450ish
Rating: PG
characters/pairing: Sam, Dean gen
summary: A mysterious figure bails the Winchesters out of jail and then offers them the deal of a lifetime.
"Perry! Schon!" The corrections officer announced. "Come on, you've made bail."
Sam and Dean looked at one another in surprise, then shrugged and walked through the open door.
An elderly man holding an umbrella stood in the corner of the police station, watching as the Winchesters had their belongings returned. As Sam slipped his wallet into his back pocket, the man spoke.
"Gentlemen, it was my employer who secured your release. He wishes to meet with you. If you will accompany me, please."
"We're grateful, of course." Dean said. "But let us get our car and we'll follow you there."
"I have already had your car towed to my master's estate." The man informed them. "By the time you finish your meeting, it will be clean and filled with petrol." He held up his hand as Dean began to speak. "Nothing inside will be touched, I assure you."
The brothers looked at one another before nodding at the old man and following him out of the station.
The man took them to a vintage, right hand drive, Rolls Royce limo, and held open the rear door for them.
"Are you serious?" Dean asked. "What the hell is all this?"
"Merely transportation to the master's estate." The old man said. "It is about a twenty minute drive away."
Sam drew up his full height and put his hands on his hips in his best intimidating stance. "Who is your master and why does he want to see us?"
The old man simply looked at him. "Mr. Winchester, you do not frighten me. I served in the MI6 before leaving Her Majesty's service to pursue work in the private sector. All will be explained in good time. However, the longer we stand here debating and posturing, the longer it will be before explanations are made."
The brothers looked at one another for a moment, exchanging facial expressions and eye movements which comprised a silent conversation.
"How do you know our real names?" Dean asked.
"My employer told me. He has been looking for the two of you for some time. He is in need of your services." The man replied.
"Our services?" Sam asked. "He has a case for us?"
"That is between the two of you, and the master." The old man said.
The Winchesters got into the back seat of the car without further discussion.
The old man initially tried to make small talk as he drove, commenting on the weather or the lovely flowers in the yard they had just passed, but gave up when the silence in the back seat persisted.
They drove eleven miles out of the town limits, coming to a stop in front of a set of twelve foot high wrought iron gates. The driver pressed a remote, and the gates swung open silently.
A long paved driveway led to a circle in front of a massive gothic manor house.
'If this is where he lives, he probably does have ghosts." Dean whispered to Sam, who nodded.
The driver opened the rear door for them, ushering them up the front steps and into a sitting room larger than most motel rooms the brothers had stayed in.
The man told them that the master would be in shortly, and left them to look around the room. The floor and fireplace surround were marble. All of the furnishings were antiques. Leaded glass windows stretched from the floor to the ten foot high ceilings, flanked by heavy velvet drapes and overlooking a garden straight out of a travel magazine. There was a museum sized and quality painting of a couple and a young boy over the fireplace.
Another man strode in, much younger than they had expected, 40ish or so, dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt.
Both Winchesters were on their feet and firing questions immediately.
"Who are you?"
"Why did you bail us out?"
"Why are we here?"
Their host seemed completely unfazed, walking past them to the bar in the corner.
He poured each of them each three fingers of Macallan. He put the three crystal glasses on the polished coffee table, and sat in the arm chair, gesturing for the brothers to be seated on the sofa across from him.
They sat down and picked up their drinks, but neither of the brothers took a sip until their host did so first.
"Gentlemen," he began, placing his glass on the table in front of him. "Answer me one question first, and then I will answer all of yours."
"What's your question?" Dean asked.
"Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, monsters ... how many of them are real?" He asked, his gaze narrowed and mouth tight.
Dean leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "All of them. And a lot more."
"But you already know this, or you wouldn't have brought us here." Sam challenged, his arms folded across his chest.
Their host shrugged. "I had a pretty good idea. My parents," he gestured at the painting behind him. "Were killed by a monster when I was eight. Everyone tried to tell me that it was a simple robbery gone wrong, that my poor traumatized mind imagined the rest of the details. I know I didn't."
"We believe you." Sam said, relaxing enough to drop his hands to his lap.
Dean finished his drink and put the empty tumbler on the table. "So you want us to hunt your monster?"
"No," the host shook his head. "I want you to teach me to hunt monsters."
Sam snorted.
"Dude." Dean licked his lips and cocked his head. "You live in this ... palace, and you've probably never done a day of manual labor in your life. Hunting monsters is not like shooting pheasant in the little grove of trees on the estate."
Their host remained undeterred. "Petty criminals often think men born into wealth such as myself make easy targets. I have seven weapons on my person right now. I'm also a black belt in four different disciplines of martial arts."
"Why us?" Sam asked.
"Because I want to learn from the best." The man answered easily. "I've made inquiries in the hunting community for the past few years, and by all accounts, the two of you are the best hunters of the current generation, possibly the best hunters ever. When I wanted to learn hand to hand combat, I paid Chuck Norris to come here for two weeks to teach me."
The brothers looked at one another in surprised amusement.
"And because we have a personal connection." The host continued, and waited until the two of them turned to him before continuing. "I was adopted at birth. My birth mother was a nurse at a Navy hospital named Patty McCready. My biological father was a Marine named John Winchester."
The silence was so complete for several long seconds that actually the first sound was the rustle of denim over upholstery as Dean turned to Sam.
"Do you believe this?" he barked out.
Sam studied their host for a long moment before turning at Dean. "Dude. Dad had a thing for nurses. And he kind of looks like Dad."
"Do you really think Dad would have left ... " Dean began.
"I haven't found any indication that he ever knew I existed." their host told them. "I'm not here to try to lay claim to the family name or anything like that. My adopted parents were my parents. But I have no one else. I was raised by my parents' most trusted employee. We're all adults, so I don't foresee that we would ever have the brother relationship like the two of you have. But I would like to know that when my foster father is gone, I'm not alone in the world."
Dean nodded, studying his new found brother.
"So, hunting." Sam said.
"Hunting." The man nodded. "I have practically unlimited money and unlimited influence. The charges you were arrested on last night? Gone. I can have your FBI records cleared as well. Whatever weapons we need, I can get. Travel expenses. Spell ingredients. Vehicles. Bar tabs. Whatever. I'm willing to bankroll your hunting for as long as the two of you want to keep hunting, in exchange for you teaching me how to hunt, and helping me track down the monster who killed my parents."
"Do you just want to kill the monster, or do you want to keep hunting after?" Sam asked.
"I'll probably keep hunting after." He shrugged. "I don't want other families to have to go through what I have."
"We don't even know your name." Dean said.
Their host smiled. "Bruce Wayne."
So I saw Batman vs Superman this weekend, where Jeffrey Dean Morgan played Bruce Wayne's father, and spent the whole movie thinking what if Batman was a hunter.
And because Lauren Cohan played Martha Wayne, I now have John/Bela ideas.
word count: 1450ish
Rating: PG
characters/pairing: Sam, Dean gen
summary: A mysterious figure bails the Winchesters out of jail and then offers them the deal of a lifetime.
"Perry! Schon!" The corrections officer announced. "Come on, you've made bail."
Sam and Dean looked at one another in surprise, then shrugged and walked through the open door.
An elderly man holding an umbrella stood in the corner of the police station, watching as the Winchesters had their belongings returned. As Sam slipped his wallet into his back pocket, the man spoke.
"Gentlemen, it was my employer who secured your release. He wishes to meet with you. If you will accompany me, please."
"We're grateful, of course." Dean said. "But let us get our car and we'll follow you there."
"I have already had your car towed to my master's estate." The man informed them. "By the time you finish your meeting, it will be clean and filled with petrol." He held up his hand as Dean began to speak. "Nothing inside will be touched, I assure you."
The brothers looked at one another before nodding at the old man and following him out of the station.
The man took them to a vintage, right hand drive, Rolls Royce limo, and held open the rear door for them.
"Are you serious?" Dean asked. "What the hell is all this?"
"Merely transportation to the master's estate." The old man said. "It is about a twenty minute drive away."
Sam drew up his full height and put his hands on his hips in his best intimidating stance. "Who is your master and why does he want to see us?"
The old man simply looked at him. "Mr. Winchester, you do not frighten me. I served in the MI6 before leaving Her Majesty's service to pursue work in the private sector. All will be explained in good time. However, the longer we stand here debating and posturing, the longer it will be before explanations are made."
The brothers looked at one another for a moment, exchanging facial expressions and eye movements which comprised a silent conversation.
"How do you know our real names?" Dean asked.
"My employer told me. He has been looking for the two of you for some time. He is in need of your services." The man replied.
"Our services?" Sam asked. "He has a case for us?"
"That is between the two of you, and the master." The old man said.
The Winchesters got into the back seat of the car without further discussion.
The old man initially tried to make small talk as he drove, commenting on the weather or the lovely flowers in the yard they had just passed, but gave up when the silence in the back seat persisted.
They drove eleven miles out of the town limits, coming to a stop in front of a set of twelve foot high wrought iron gates. The driver pressed a remote, and the gates swung open silently.
A long paved driveway led to a circle in front of a massive gothic manor house.
'If this is where he lives, he probably does have ghosts." Dean whispered to Sam, who nodded.
The driver opened the rear door for them, ushering them up the front steps and into a sitting room larger than most motel rooms the brothers had stayed in.
The man told them that the master would be in shortly, and left them to look around the room. The floor and fireplace surround were marble. All of the furnishings were antiques. Leaded glass windows stretched from the floor to the ten foot high ceilings, flanked by heavy velvet drapes and overlooking a garden straight out of a travel magazine. There was a museum sized and quality painting of a couple and a young boy over the fireplace.
Another man strode in, much younger than they had expected, 40ish or so, dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt.
Both Winchesters were on their feet and firing questions immediately.
"Who are you?"
"Why did you bail us out?"
"Why are we here?"
Their host seemed completely unfazed, walking past them to the bar in the corner.
He poured each of them each three fingers of Macallan. He put the three crystal glasses on the polished coffee table, and sat in the arm chair, gesturing for the brothers to be seated on the sofa across from him.
They sat down and picked up their drinks, but neither of the brothers took a sip until their host did so first.
"Gentlemen," he began, placing his glass on the table in front of him. "Answer me one question first, and then I will answer all of yours."
"What's your question?" Dean asked.
"Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, monsters ... how many of them are real?" He asked, his gaze narrowed and mouth tight.
Dean leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "All of them. And a lot more."
"But you already know this, or you wouldn't have brought us here." Sam challenged, his arms folded across his chest.
Their host shrugged. "I had a pretty good idea. My parents," he gestured at the painting behind him. "Were killed by a monster when I was eight. Everyone tried to tell me that it was a simple robbery gone wrong, that my poor traumatized mind imagined the rest of the details. I know I didn't."
"We believe you." Sam said, relaxing enough to drop his hands to his lap.
Dean finished his drink and put the empty tumbler on the table. "So you want us to hunt your monster?"
"No," the host shook his head. "I want you to teach me to hunt monsters."
Sam snorted.
"Dude." Dean licked his lips and cocked his head. "You live in this ... palace, and you've probably never done a day of manual labor in your life. Hunting monsters is not like shooting pheasant in the little grove of trees on the estate."
Their host remained undeterred. "Petty criminals often think men born into wealth such as myself make easy targets. I have seven weapons on my person right now. I'm also a black belt in four different disciplines of martial arts."
"Why us?" Sam asked.
"Because I want to learn from the best." The man answered easily. "I've made inquiries in the hunting community for the past few years, and by all accounts, the two of you are the best hunters of the current generation, possibly the best hunters ever. When I wanted to learn hand to hand combat, I paid Chuck Norris to come here for two weeks to teach me."
The brothers looked at one another in surprised amusement.
"And because we have a personal connection." The host continued, and waited until the two of them turned to him before continuing. "I was adopted at birth. My birth mother was a nurse at a Navy hospital named Patty McCready. My biological father was a Marine named John Winchester."
The silence was so complete for several long seconds that actually the first sound was the rustle of denim over upholstery as Dean turned to Sam.
"Do you believe this?" he barked out.
Sam studied their host for a long moment before turning at Dean. "Dude. Dad had a thing for nurses. And he kind of looks like Dad."
"Do you really think Dad would have left ... " Dean began.
"I haven't found any indication that he ever knew I existed." their host told them. "I'm not here to try to lay claim to the family name or anything like that. My adopted parents were my parents. But I have no one else. I was raised by my parents' most trusted employee. We're all adults, so I don't foresee that we would ever have the brother relationship like the two of you have. But I would like to know that when my foster father is gone, I'm not alone in the world."
Dean nodded, studying his new found brother.
"So, hunting." Sam said.
"Hunting." The man nodded. "I have practically unlimited money and unlimited influence. The charges you were arrested on last night? Gone. I can have your FBI records cleared as well. Whatever weapons we need, I can get. Travel expenses. Spell ingredients. Vehicles. Bar tabs. Whatever. I'm willing to bankroll your hunting for as long as the two of you want to keep hunting, in exchange for you teaching me how to hunt, and helping me track down the monster who killed my parents."
"Do you just want to kill the monster, or do you want to keep hunting after?" Sam asked.
"I'll probably keep hunting after." He shrugged. "I don't want other families to have to go through what I have."
"We don't even know your name." Dean said.
Their host smiled. "Bruce Wayne."
So I saw Batman vs Superman this weekend, where Jeffrey Dean Morgan played Bruce Wayne's father, and spent the whole movie thinking what if Batman was a hunter.
And because Lauren Cohan played Martha Wayne, I now have John/Bela ideas.