You Can Always Go Home: Chapter 2
Title: You Can Always Go Home (Gift for madebyme_x)
Gifter: safiyabat
Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Henry Winchester, Josie Sands, Abaddon, Bobby Singer, Pastor Jim, Meg Masters. Pairings (which are secondary) are Sam x Jess and Henry x Josie.
Word count: 29,624 / 5,915 (chapter)
Rating: PG
Warnings:
Summary: Henry gets a crash course in everything. Dean teaches John about very specific Japanese migration to Minnesota. John returns the favor by giving Dean some information Dean would probably prefer he hadn't.
Sam busied himself with tidying up the apartment. He had a lot of questions for this stranger - his grandfather, weird as that was - but the guy had just experienced a major shock to his system and needed to absorb all of the changes. The apartment didn’t need a lot of cleaning but Sam was very good at finding dirt and scrubbing it clean. It was a gift.
Jess slept for a good three hours. After that she got up and showered, reappearing in jeans and a tee shirt instead of the Smurfs-tee-and-boy-shorts combo that she’d been wearing for the confrontation with Abaddon. Henry seemed significantly more comfortable with this attire, which made Sam shake his head. It shouldn’t matter what she wore, she was a human being and deserved respect, especially when he’d intruded into her bedroom. Still, he supposed his grandfather had a lot to unlearn, all things considered.
“I apologize for our manner of meeting.” Henry cleared his throat and stood to shake Jess’ hand. “I’m afraid I was unprepared for the finer points of polite society at that point.” He tugged at the edges of the hoodie Sam had dug out for him. “I’m Henry Winchester.”
“Jessica Moore.” Her tone was cool, but her posture loosened a little. “I’m Sam’s fiancée.” She glanced at Josie. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s still breathing.” Henry sighed. “She was possessed by the most powerful demon I’ve ever heard of. Most people need time to recover from even a lower-level demon.”
“We’re aware.” She padded over to the kitchen. “Can I offer you something to eat? I could use a little something. That spell took a bit out of me.”
“Thank you.” Henry glanced at Sam.
Jess grinned outright. “Don’t mind him. He literally doesn’t think about food until someone else brings it up.” She shook her finger at her fiancé. “And let me guess. That’s the fifth time he’s re-arranged the books on that shelf.”
“Sixth,” Henry noted. “Complete with dusting.”
“Sam. Sit down. Grab your laptop and make yourself useful.” She disappeared into the bowels of the kitchen and rattled some pans around.
Sam shrugged and obeyed. If Henry and Jess were feeling social, maybe they could start researching how to help him or what they could do to set him up with a life. “So. While you were getting dressed I called someone who should be able to find John. He’s put the word out and we should hear back in a few days.”
“You don’t have any way of calling your own father yourself?” Henry shook his head. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“Try.” Sam pressed his lips together and remembered that Henry, for all of his familiarity, had no idea what the family was really like.
“Sam.” Jess shook her head. “Henry, Sam’s father didn’t like his decision to come to Stanford. He wanted Sam to be a hunter, like him and his older son. Sam refused, so he was disowned. After Sam left, he changed their phone numbers so Sam couldn’t call.”
Henry scratched his head. “They can do that?” he asked finally. “Just like that?”
Sam couldn’t help it. He laughed. Both Jess and Henry looked at him like he’d lost his mind and that just made Sam laugh harder. “Jess - think about what Henry thinks about when he thinks about phones.” He grabbed his own phone and tossed it to his grandfather, who caught it with ease. “We don’t even have a land line, man.”
Henry examined the device carefully. He seemed afraid that he might break it. “You’re joking. This is a toy, like something out of a terrible science fiction film.”
Sam just shook his head. “This?” He turned his laptop around to show Henry the screen. “This is my computer.”
“Impossible. A computer wouldn’t fit into this apartment!”
Sam smirked, relaxing for the first time since coming back from his run. “Yep. And this computer connects - without wires - to millions of other computers, all over the world. And that’s how we’re going to figure out what happened to those ‘Men of Letters’ you’re talking about, see how best to help you. Because I’m pretty sure that the last people who are going to be able to give you what you need are hunters.”
Henry gave a shudder that didn’t look entirely voluntary. “No, definitely not. Hunters are fine, in their place, but asking them to do anything but kill is a lot like firing a gun and expecting it to plant daisies.” He looked back at Sam. “And you say my son became one of those apes? He should have been raised in the Men of Letters! He should have grown up knowing the truth!” Henry’s soft hands began to shake.
Jess reappeared with a bowl of oatmeal, which she shoved into Henry’s hands. “Apparently something went wrong.”
“Millie?” Henry gasped, giving Sam a look of desperation.
“I don’t know who that is.” Sam reached out and put a hand on his grandfather’s back. “John didn’t talk about the past much. He was a mechanic in Lawrence, Kansas, until a demon murdered his wife. In, uh. In my nursery. I was six months old. After that, he threw everything he had into hunting. He didn’t know anything about the supernatural before that; I can tell you that much.”
Henry swallowed, hard. “So I never made it back from 2005.” He nodded once. “That’s… that’s good to know.”
Sam sighed and pulled his hand back. Some things held true, he guessed, and his inability to offer comfort to a Winchester seemed to be one of them. “I don’t think so. But hopefully you’ll be able to clear things up. Meet him now. Tell him what happened.” Sam massaged his temples and retreated to his computer. “But you’re going to need a few things first. Like a current ID. And money.”
“Clothes,” Jess added. “Those old things you gave him are fourth-hand at least. He’ll need something a little sturdier to wear. You should be able to load up a card for him, right?”
Sam made a face. He hated connecting with the criminal side of his past; it made him feel even less clean than usual. Still, he couldn’t think of a legal way to sort out the issues with Henry’s identity. “Yeah, yeah. I can find a couple of predatory lenders who deserve to lose a bit. It won’t be a problem.” He waved a hand.
“Are you talking about theft?” Henry’s eyes widened in shock.
“You have a better way to deal with your sudden re-appearance?” Jess returned with more food, this time for her and for Sam. “You’re legally dead, Henry. We’ve got to build a whole new life for you, and for the lady - Sam, is that your grandmother?”
“No.” Henry’s mouth did something weird, something Sam couldn’t quite identify. “I was already married to Millie by the time I met Josie.”
And wasn’t that interesting? Irrelevant, Sam decided, but interesting. “Anyway,” he sighed. “This is the only way to get you on your feet and get you up to Minnesota, assuming that’s what happens.” He smirked. “We could try getting you a retail job for Christmas but you’d still need an ID.”
“Why do we need to go to Minnesota?” Henry asked. “Can’t he come here? I’d think he’d come running if he knew his son was calling for him.”
Jess nudged Sam. “Eat.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “What part of ‘disowned’ is escaping you?” He pushed the oatmeal away. Jess pulled it back and glared at him. “You want him to hear you out, listen to anything you have to say, you want me to be physically as far from you as possible. You don’t tell him you’ve spoken to me. You don’t tell him you’ve seen me. We’ve had no contact. You’ve never heard of me. He’ll tell you he has one son and you let that stand, alright?”
Henry shook his head. “No. Not alright. First of all, Abaddon knows who you are, Sam, and there was something about you that appealed to her. I’m not comfortable leaving you alone here as prey, as a sitting duck. Second, I don’t care that he’s been through a lot, or that he’s decided on a life of hunting or whatever. You are his son. And I am his father. We are a family. And he’s going to have to accept that.” He grinned, just a little. “Third, I have no idea how I’m going to navigate between here and Minnesota or wherever if that’s a phone and that’s a computer.”
Jess chuckled. “He’s got a point there.”
Sam growled. “You realize this is getting into some seriously uncomfortable territory, right? We’re talking stolen cars, fake IDs, and a long-ass road trip to meet some very hostile people who - oh yeah, are very likely going to want to kill us.” He met Jess’ eyes squarely, pushing the food away again.
She rolled her eyes and kissed him on the nose. “Well we don’t have to let them, stupid.”
“You honestly think that your family would kill you?” Henry shook his head. “I clearly need to set some things in order with my son.” He frowned. “I might not be able to get back to my own time but I can certainly do something now.”
“That’s not - he’s a hunter,” Sam ground out. “My fiancée - I mean we cast spells. You saw it!”
“That’s one of the things we need to discuss. There’s nothing wrong with magic that doesn’t involve demonic forces.” Henry shook his head. “Now. Let’s see if we can’t figure out what happened to the rest of the Men of Letters. Maybe we can find a way to get me back to my own time after all.”
They passed the next few hours with Jess trying very hard to give Henry a crash course in modern technology as Sam tried to piece together what had happened after Henry cast his spell. As near as he could tell, news reports had spoken of a “crazed killer” going after a men’s charitable organization and slaughtering everyone inside in Normal, Illinois in February of 1958. That jived with what Henry had told him, although the names of the victims had given him pause. “At least one of them got out, Sam,” he told his grandson.
“Not according to the police report.” Sam pointed to the screen.
“I’m not sure how you’re able to get a police report on your screen, there, but that name there is a code. We need to get to the grave of the person buried there. First, though, we find my son.”
Sam took the time to look up his grandmother’s history as well, now that he had a name to work with. He wasn’t sure how to break the news of Millie Winchester’s death in 1986 to her widower.
Part of Sam felt only resentment. She’d been alive. She’d died in a car accident, in perfect health. If his father had truly felt compelled to go out and fight evil or whatever, could he not have left his sons with this close relative? They could have had stability, affection, security. Then again, maybe he’d tried. Maybe Millie hadn’t wanted them any more than John had. Who knew?
Resentment wouldn’t get him anywhere. He swallowed it down and broke the news as gently as he could. Henry took it well, or at least as well as could be expected. He teared up, but kept a stiff upper lip. “I suppose it was asking a lot to expect her to still be alive. Thank you for looking, Sam. It was very kind of you.”
Josie woke around six o’clock, and she woke with a scream. Henry returned to her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close. “It’s over,” he told her. “You were possessed but it’s over now. We’re - well, we’re safe now.”
Josie gave a massive shudder, but recognized that she wasn’t alone. “What the hell is this place?”
Henry had the good grace to look sheepish. “I. Well, when the demon attacked I got desperate. I tried a time travel spell, thinking I’d go forward, find John and he’d help me to defeat it. Instead it brought me here.”
Josie buried her face in her hands, which still had blood caked on them. “Oh, Henry. Spellwork wasn’t ever your strong suit. You should’ve - well, I don’t know.”
Henry stroked her face, tender and gentle. “Ssh. It’s okay. It worked out in the end. Meet, uh, John’s son. And fiancée. They exorcised Abaddon.”
Sam and Jess waved. “I’m sure you’d like a shower,” Jess offered. “Sam found some of my clothes that you can borrow for now. We’ll go out shopping tomorrow and find something that fits you better.”
“Um.” Josie grimaced. “That would be fantastic.” She turned to face Henry. “Did you just say we’re in the future?”
He winced. “Maybe a little?”
She sighed. “Oh, Henry.” She shook her head. “And these are Men of Letters? They look a little young.”
Sam coughed. “We’ll let Henry explain that to you after you’ve had a chance to clean up a bit. Nothing itches quite like dried blood.”
By mutual agreement, Sam and Jess went out to get takeout while Henry waited to give a fuller explanation to Josie. “You trust them?” Jess asked him, surprised.
“Kind of.” Sam shrugged. “It’s not like they’ve got anyplace else to go. Let’s worry about this family reunion road trip next, see if we can’t talk Henry out of it.” He sighed.
“You’ve been moping around about Dean for years and now you don’t want to go see him?” Jess gave him a playful shove with her shoulder.
“Not -“ Sam cut himself off and frowned. “Jess, I want to see him like I want to breathe, but he’s going to murder us. He’ll kill Henry and Josie just like he’ll kill you, for the whole witchcraft thing, and me - well. I don’t know if it’ll be for the desertion, or for being tainted, or for witchcraft, or for law school, or for having the temerity to try to get Dad and his father back together -“
“Whoa. Okay, there, no need to panic.” Jess put a hand on his chest. “Stay with me here, Sam.”
Sam took a deep breath and tried to catalog five things he could see. “Okay. I mean, I get that we, or at least I, have to go. I can’t just let the two of them go running off to Minnesota. You saw how Henry dealt when you tried to show him how to work a microwave. He’s not going to be able to drive a car or anything.”
“The mechanics of driving are the same,” she frowned. “But I get what you mean. There are so many electronics in cars now, and then there’s the whole thing with phones. No, we have to go. We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want.”
“I want,” he confessed. “I want to see my brother, and give him a beer, and tell him we’re getting married and make him come to the wedding. I even want to chase him off when he hits on you.”
“He’s not going to hit on me,” she scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“He’s totally going to hit on you. He slept with my prom date. On prom night.” Sam shook his head. “And you’re gorgeous. Before he finds out you’re a witch, he’s going to hit on you.”
“Charming.” She wrinkled her nose.
He waved a hand. “You can handle him. You’ve handled worse. I’ll step in before he gets too awful. Just wanted to give you a warning is all. But anyway, I’m not going to stay, because it’s a horrible idea.” They got their food and started back to the apartment. “It’s only going to end in a mess. We’ll let Henry get together with them and duck out before Dad realizes we’re there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She sighed. “Think they’ll be okay?”
“Henry and Josie?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s a lot to take in. But we’ll have to help them as much as we can for the next few days, right?”
Josie looked cleaner when they got back - shaken, but cleaner. Jess’ modern clothes looked a little more natural on her than Sam’s outgrown, pre-growth spurt clothes looked on Henry, but maybe that was just because they were newer. “So. Henry’s explained what he could.” She forced a thin smile onto her face. “What’s the rest of it?”
Sam and Jess dished out the food and launched into an explanation, answering questions that would help both of the time travellers fit in better in the new century. Sam set about making both of the newcomers new identities and setting up their new bank accounts, while Jess helped acquaint Josie with the computer.
Jim called the next morning at around six to tell them that he’d spoken with Dean. Their father was willing to meet this mysterious new contact. He knew nothing about his father or Abaddon, although he knew that there was demonic involvement. Sam shook his head and tried to keep the bitterness from his voice; trust his father to get excited for demons when he couldn’t for his own son. They’d meet up in Blue Earth as soon as they could get there.
“I’m going to have to drive him, Jim,” Sam admitted. “The guy - I mean, phones are an issue for him, never mind modern cars with all their electronics. Don’t worry; we’ll get a hotel room and be out of your hair. Dad will never know we were even there.”
“Sam.” Grief shook the priest’s voice. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“It kind of does, sir. But it’s okay. We’ll be there in a few days. Just give us a while to find some wheels and get some clothes for these nice folks.”
As soon as the stores opened Sam and Jess brought their guests to get clothes for themselves. On a whim, Sam grabbed a present for Dean too. It wasn’t much; the Winchesters hadn’t ever done the Christmas thing well and it had become Sam’s second least favorite holiday, but he wanted to leave something for Dean to let him know that his brother was thinking of him. After that they headed out for the start of their three-day journey, Sam having stolen them a nice and anonymous Honda Pilot. Josie, interestingly enough, showed absolutely no astonishment at the theft, only a little amusement at Henry’s reaction.
They got as far as Cedar City, Utah that day. Sam kind of wanted to press on, but the weather turned snowy and the others didn’t trust a car whose maintenance they didn’t know under those circumstances. They got two rooms and Sam had to hold back a laugh when their elders insisted on splitting up along gender lines.
“So,” he said to his grandfather, sitting down in a chair across from him. “Tell me about these Men of Letters, anyway.”
*
Dean got into his Baby and settled in for the long drive toward Blue Earth. In theory, they could do the drive in sixteen hours and Dean suspected that Dad would probably want to push for that. On the one hand, that wouldn’t be so bad. Push straight through and they wouldn’t have to deal with driving for a few days. On the other hand it would be one long-ass drive, and given how late in the year it was a lot of that drive would be spent in the dark.
Still, it wasn’t Dean’s place to set their pace, not on this job, and so he made sure he was gassed up and when his dad said that it was time to go he went. Fortunately they were blessed with good roads and good weather, never a guarantee in the Great Lakes region at this time of year but he’d take it. Dad’s monster truck might be able to handle snow but the Impala liked dry pavement thanks, and even the monster truck’s four-wheel drive didn’t help it to stop on ice.
Just as Dean expected, they drove straight through. He blared his music and tried to ignore the empty space to his right, cranking up the radio to drown out the silence. It only sort of worked, but sort of was better than nothing.
They got to Jim’s house at midnight, but the priest had left the rectory lights on for them. Dean shook his head. He knew the Church was supposed to be eternal and unchanging and all that but the way that this place had just stayed exactly the same was taking it to extremes. He could almost imagine a three-year-old Sammy running out of the front door wearing nothing but his Batman underoos and cackling like a hyena.
He shook his head to dispel the illusion. Those days were long gone. Instead he killed the engine and got his bags from the trunk. Jim was waiting for him at the door, maybe a little more gray in his hair and beard but otherwise no different than the building. “Dean,” he said with a smile, and wrapped his arms around the younger hunter in a warm embrace. “Come on inside; get out of the cold. Must have been a long drive. The contact won’t be here for another couple of days yet.” He nodded at Dad.
Dad returned the nod with a frown and closed the door behind them. “What’s the holdup? We hauled ass to get here; this guy wanted to meet with me.”
Dean held back on his sigh, keeping it internal. “John, this guy is coming up from California,” Jim explained, taking their coats. “It’s a very different drive. And I understand that his companion is recovering from some injuries. They’re not just tearing across through mostly flat country. They’ll be here.”
John’s features flattened for a moment, but he sighed. “Yeah. Of course. I’m sorry. I got excited for a possible lead. That’s all.”
“I know you did, Johnny.” Jim’s face softened. “I know you did. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get settled in? They’ll get here when they get here.”
John sighed and nodded, grabbing his bags and shuffling up the stairs. Dean turned to Jim. “Companion? Injured? Come on, Jim. Tell me the truth. Is Sam okay?”
“As far as I know. It’s a lady who’s recovering from something.” Jim grimaced. “She was possessed by the demon in question. I’m not sure of the mechanics.” Jim kept his voice to a whisper, just as Dean had. “Sam sounded fine.”
“Okay. Okay, that’s good. That’s - that’s good.” Relief washed through Dean and left him weak in the knees. “Awesome.”
“But Dean - are you ever going to tell your father that your brother had any involvement?” Jim looked tired for a moment, tired and unhappy.
“Jim - leave it. It’s not - it’s just not a good idea, okay?” Dean stretched his back. “In all these years he hasn’t said Sammy’s name, not once, okay? It’s not a good idea.”
Jim sighed heavily. “Alright. If you’re sure.”
“Oh I’m sure.” Dean didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The next day Dad woke Dean up early. Dean had been hoping for a break, a chance to rest up and recuperate from a rough few hunts, but apparently that wasn’t part of Dad’s game plan. Dad had found a nearby case for them to work while they were in the area, since they were going to be cooling their heels and all. Apparently there were reports of people suddenly freezing to death up in Alexandria, and that was only about four hours north of Blue Earth. Witnesses claimed to have seen a woman nearby - a naked Asian woman, which aroused the suspicions of the police - but no footprints were ever found in the snow.
Dean’s annoyance over losing rest time was mollified by the possibility of indulging in his admittedly inappropriate fetish, and so he and his father drove north. He was pretty sure that he knew what the thing was; he’d worked a job with Bobby Singer, not long after Sam had taken off, and it had been a lot like this (except the monster had worn clothes, white clothes.) He explained the details to his father as they drove. “What was it?” Dad asked.
“It was a Japanese spirit called a yuki-onna,” Dean said. “They’re like these snow and ice spirits. Mostly they operate like ghosts.”
“So we can fight ‘em with salt and iron,” John said, nodding. “Except they’re not actually ghosts, so there’s got to be something tethering them to the spot. What’s a Japanese spirit doing in northern Minnesota, anyway?”
Dean didn’t have an answer for that. “When I was working with Bobby, it seemed to have come out of some kind of stone. A special stone - I’d know it if I saw it again.”
Dad snorted. “You want us to find a specific pebble in all of Minnesota?”
Dean glanced at the file his father had passed him. “It looks like most of the attacks have been happening around some statue of a Viking. Oh come on, seriously? ‘Big Ole?’”
“Don’t mock, Dean. People like the Big Ole statue. It makes them feel more connected to each other.” John shifted. “It’s not our lifestyle, but it works for civilians.”
Dean nodded and bit his tongue. He didn’t remember Lawrence, not at all. He had a few hazy memories of a grassy space that could have been a yard or could have been a park, but that didn’t count. It wasn’t a community, it was just grass. Maybe they’d never really been civilians. Maybe they’d never been part of someplace; maybe they’d always been apart. Dean thought there had been something else once, but he hadn’t even been five when everything changed. Maybe he was remembering wrong. “Yes, sir.”
“So do you remember how to take it out?”
“Smash up the stone with iron, sir. That seemed to work.”
“Great.”
They rolled into town and got a motel room, but they didn’t spend a lot of time in it. They went out right away to go look for the yuki-onna. John pointed out that if most of the attacks were coming near the Big Ole statue, then they should probably head over there and start their search.
It didn’t take long to find her, or rather for her to find them. She shimmered into existence right in front of Dean, every inappropriate teenaged dream he’d ever had standing right in front of him. She stood before him, all but glowing in the moonlight; clad in nothing but her long black hair and the skin God gave her. Except, Dean remembered just in time, it wasn’t skin, and God had nothing to do with it. He pulled back the hand that had been reaching for her and lashed out with his iron crowbar.
The spirit disintegrated before him, only to reappear behind him. She raised a hand and sent him flying across the park, a sneer marring her pretty face. “You’re seriously the Winchesters?”
Dean crashed into a snow-covered bench and groaned. “Who wants to know?”
“Oh come on, Dean. Everyone knows who you’re supposed to be. Blah blah heroes, blah blah destiny, blah blah vomit. Except you’re down by one already, aren’t you?” She snorted. “A brother act is kind of hard with only one brother, isn’t it?”
A shotgun blast broke up her monologue, and her image. Dad charged through the space where she’d been and pulled Dean off the bench. “What are you doing, lying there? Get up and help me find the damn stone, Dean!”
Dean moaned as he trotted off obediently after his father. Yeah, those ribs were probably broken all right. Whatever - he could fix them up later. Right now, they had work to do. His eye picked up a few bits of color sticking out of the snow, on the side least exposed to wind. Evidently people were in the habit of bringing things to Big Ole. Because that doesn’t have pagan connotations at all, Dean thought with a toss of his head. He started to brush the snow away from the offerings, looking for the one stone that would let them go find someplace warm to rest.
He didn’t have to ask his father to cover him. Dad would always have his back. Dean took off his gloves and brushed the snow away from the things left in the snow - toys and beer cans and prettily painted rocks, candy bars and a recently added Tupperware labeled simply, “lutefisk.” Dean left that one well alone in his mad scramble.
He heard the blast of the shotgun three or four times, and felt the blast of cold air on his bare neck more than once as he focused on his task. He didn’t look up. He even ignored his father when he yelled, “Damn it, Dean, hurry it up!” Instead, he just searched harder. The damn rock had to be around here somewhere, right?
Finally, the stone came to his hand. It even felt colder than the things around it, and how that was possible Dean couldn’t begin to guess. He recognized the elaborate kanji carved into the rock, though, beautiful and compelling and oddly peaceful as he stared at it. There was no time to get caught up in the pretty object, though. He had to destroy it.
He put the rock on the base of the statue and brought the crowbar down on it, as hard as he could. The yuki-onna shrieked, and a wind blew up from out of nowhere. Dean couldn’t feel his hands, but he could see that they were wrapped around that iron bar so he brought it down on the remains of the stone again.
The spirit melted. The wind stilled. Dean dropped the crowbar as his father ran over to him. “Those hands look bad, Dean,” was all he said.
“They feel pretty bad, sir.” He huffed out a puff of hot air onto the affected limbs. “Can we put the heater on in the truck?”
Dad laughed out loud and patted Dean on the back. “Anything you want, son. That was some good work.”
Dean basked in the glory, and let his father bundle him into the truck. They drove back down to Blue Earth with John in a wildly good mood, all smiles and affability. He even volunteered some stories about himself and Deacon during the war, something he never did.
When they got back Dean felt a little more thawed out. Jim checked him out and pronounced him to be in no danger of permanent damage, although he clucked his tongue at Dean over the risk he’d taken. They all went to bed soon after and Dean was able to settle down in his bed and rest secure in the knowledge of a job well done and a father made proud, at least this once.
Dad let him sleep in the next day, and even let him take the day off in favor of researching the events that had taken place in California surrounding this new demonic menace. There wasn’t much to tell. Whatever it was seemed bad; anything that could take out an entire town’s power had to be pretty intense. Not that Dean knew much about demons.
“That’s my fault,” John sighed. “At first I wasn’t sure how much I believed in them, you know? I mean demonic spirits, sure. But full-blown demons? Those sounded like fairy tales. But the more research I got through the more I had to believe.
“I couldn’t tell you, though. I couldn’t risk it. I could already see that there was something… off… about your brother.”
It was the first time since Sammy had left that Dad had mentioned him directly. “Off, sir?” Sure, Sammy had always been a little weird, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t need to be told about demons. Especially living the kind of life they led.
“I - Dean, your mother died trying to protect him from something. And I don’t think she succeeded. I think the demon that killed her was after him. It did something to him. I’ve found other children that it affected. It… they all have powers. Abilities, given by this demon. Some of them seem benign. Some of them are outright dangerous. I’ve had to kill two of them myself already.”
Dean’s heart caught in his throat. “Kill?”
“You probably don’t want to know those details, Dean. I had some idea of what had happened by the time that he was maybe ten. I’d hoped that keeping him with us would keep him safe, keep him from turning, but…” Dad looked away.
“But you two couldn’t stop butting heads.” Dean swallowed. “And he left.”
“He wouldn’t obey. Honestly, his disobedience made me suspicious. I thought he was turning by the time he was maybe thirteen.”
Dean shook his head. “He just didn’t trust you. And you didn’t trust him. It was inevitable.”
John gave a heavy sigh. “He’s dangerous, Dean. I don’t know how dangerous yet - if he just needs to be monitored or if - well, if. But he’s under a demon’s influence, not only a demon but the demon. I just - I know with this whole thing, with that other demon coming through in Palo Alto, he’s probably on your mind.”
“Sir.” Dean gulped.
“I trust you with this, Dean. I know you’re good; you’re not going to just go take off or anything. You know that I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you boys. God knows I didn’t want to think that Sammy was… touched… by evil.”
“No sir. Of course not.” Dean struggled to keep his face neutral, but his heart was beating so hard under his skin that it had to show somehow.
“If we can find some way to kill this demon, we might be able to free him of its influence. It wouldn’t be able to control him anymore. He’d still be a freak, but he’d be able to live a relatively safe life, assuming he hasn’t completely turned to the other side.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded, mouth numb. “I understand.”
“Good. Because if anything happens to me, it’s going to fall to you to make sure that he’s not a menace to the world.”
“Of course, sir.”
John patted his back. “You’re a good son, Dean. Everything that a father could ask for.” His face was melancholy as he looked away.
Dean recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He scurried away, back up to the room he’d once shared with Sam under the eaves. At least now he knew why Dad hadn’t ever trusted or listened to Sam! But the reasons - those just couldn’t be right. He couldn’t reconcile the idea of a demon-stained brother with the boy who’d argued so passionately for solutions that caused less harm, rather than saying “screw the collateral damage.”
But Dad - well, he’d been chasing that thing for a long time. He knew things, and he’d never steered Dean wrong before. Dean didn’t know what to think, except that it was good that he’d kept his brother’s involvement secret.
Back to Chapter One -- On to Chapter Three
Gifter: safiyabat
Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Henry Winchester, Josie Sands, Abaddon, Bobby Singer, Pastor Jim, Meg Masters. Pairings (which are secondary) are Sam x Jess and Henry x Josie.
Word count: 29,624 / 5,915 (chapter)
Rating: PG
Warnings:
Summary: Henry gets a crash course in everything. Dean teaches John about very specific Japanese migration to Minnesota. John returns the favor by giving Dean some information Dean would probably prefer he hadn't.
Sam busied himself with tidying up the apartment. He had a lot of questions for this stranger - his grandfather, weird as that was - but the guy had just experienced a major shock to his system and needed to absorb all of the changes. The apartment didn’t need a lot of cleaning but Sam was very good at finding dirt and scrubbing it clean. It was a gift.
Jess slept for a good three hours. After that she got up and showered, reappearing in jeans and a tee shirt instead of the Smurfs-tee-and-boy-shorts combo that she’d been wearing for the confrontation with Abaddon. Henry seemed significantly more comfortable with this attire, which made Sam shake his head. It shouldn’t matter what she wore, she was a human being and deserved respect, especially when he’d intruded into her bedroom. Still, he supposed his grandfather had a lot to unlearn, all things considered.
“I apologize for our manner of meeting.” Henry cleared his throat and stood to shake Jess’ hand. “I’m afraid I was unprepared for the finer points of polite society at that point.” He tugged at the edges of the hoodie Sam had dug out for him. “I’m Henry Winchester.”
“Jessica Moore.” Her tone was cool, but her posture loosened a little. “I’m Sam’s fiancée.” She glanced at Josie. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s still breathing.” Henry sighed. “She was possessed by the most powerful demon I’ve ever heard of. Most people need time to recover from even a lower-level demon.”
“We’re aware.” She padded over to the kitchen. “Can I offer you something to eat? I could use a little something. That spell took a bit out of me.”
“Thank you.” Henry glanced at Sam.
Jess grinned outright. “Don’t mind him. He literally doesn’t think about food until someone else brings it up.” She shook her finger at her fiancé. “And let me guess. That’s the fifth time he’s re-arranged the books on that shelf.”
“Sixth,” Henry noted. “Complete with dusting.”
“Sam. Sit down. Grab your laptop and make yourself useful.” She disappeared into the bowels of the kitchen and rattled some pans around.
Sam shrugged and obeyed. If Henry and Jess were feeling social, maybe they could start researching how to help him or what they could do to set him up with a life. “So. While you were getting dressed I called someone who should be able to find John. He’s put the word out and we should hear back in a few days.”
“You don’t have any way of calling your own father yourself?” Henry shook his head. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“Try.” Sam pressed his lips together and remembered that Henry, for all of his familiarity, had no idea what the family was really like.
“Sam.” Jess shook her head. “Henry, Sam’s father didn’t like his decision to come to Stanford. He wanted Sam to be a hunter, like him and his older son. Sam refused, so he was disowned. After Sam left, he changed their phone numbers so Sam couldn’t call.”
Henry scratched his head. “They can do that?” he asked finally. “Just like that?”
Sam couldn’t help it. He laughed. Both Jess and Henry looked at him like he’d lost his mind and that just made Sam laugh harder. “Jess - think about what Henry thinks about when he thinks about phones.” He grabbed his own phone and tossed it to his grandfather, who caught it with ease. “We don’t even have a land line, man.”
Henry examined the device carefully. He seemed afraid that he might break it. “You’re joking. This is a toy, like something out of a terrible science fiction film.”
Sam just shook his head. “This?” He turned his laptop around to show Henry the screen. “This is my computer.”
“Impossible. A computer wouldn’t fit into this apartment!”
Sam smirked, relaxing for the first time since coming back from his run. “Yep. And this computer connects - without wires - to millions of other computers, all over the world. And that’s how we’re going to figure out what happened to those ‘Men of Letters’ you’re talking about, see how best to help you. Because I’m pretty sure that the last people who are going to be able to give you what you need are hunters.”
Henry gave a shudder that didn’t look entirely voluntary. “No, definitely not. Hunters are fine, in their place, but asking them to do anything but kill is a lot like firing a gun and expecting it to plant daisies.” He looked back at Sam. “And you say my son became one of those apes? He should have been raised in the Men of Letters! He should have grown up knowing the truth!” Henry’s soft hands began to shake.
Jess reappeared with a bowl of oatmeal, which she shoved into Henry’s hands. “Apparently something went wrong.”
“Millie?” Henry gasped, giving Sam a look of desperation.
“I don’t know who that is.” Sam reached out and put a hand on his grandfather’s back. “John didn’t talk about the past much. He was a mechanic in Lawrence, Kansas, until a demon murdered his wife. In, uh. In my nursery. I was six months old. After that, he threw everything he had into hunting. He didn’t know anything about the supernatural before that; I can tell you that much.”
Henry swallowed, hard. “So I never made it back from 2005.” He nodded once. “That’s… that’s good to know.”
Sam sighed and pulled his hand back. Some things held true, he guessed, and his inability to offer comfort to a Winchester seemed to be one of them. “I don’t think so. But hopefully you’ll be able to clear things up. Meet him now. Tell him what happened.” Sam massaged his temples and retreated to his computer. “But you’re going to need a few things first. Like a current ID. And money.”
“Clothes,” Jess added. “Those old things you gave him are fourth-hand at least. He’ll need something a little sturdier to wear. You should be able to load up a card for him, right?”
Sam made a face. He hated connecting with the criminal side of his past; it made him feel even less clean than usual. Still, he couldn’t think of a legal way to sort out the issues with Henry’s identity. “Yeah, yeah. I can find a couple of predatory lenders who deserve to lose a bit. It won’t be a problem.” He waved a hand.
“Are you talking about theft?” Henry’s eyes widened in shock.
“You have a better way to deal with your sudden re-appearance?” Jess returned with more food, this time for her and for Sam. “You’re legally dead, Henry. We’ve got to build a whole new life for you, and for the lady - Sam, is that your grandmother?”
“No.” Henry’s mouth did something weird, something Sam couldn’t quite identify. “I was already married to Millie by the time I met Josie.”
And wasn’t that interesting? Irrelevant, Sam decided, but interesting. “Anyway,” he sighed. “This is the only way to get you on your feet and get you up to Minnesota, assuming that’s what happens.” He smirked. “We could try getting you a retail job for Christmas but you’d still need an ID.”
“Why do we need to go to Minnesota?” Henry asked. “Can’t he come here? I’d think he’d come running if he knew his son was calling for him.”
Jess nudged Sam. “Eat.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “What part of ‘disowned’ is escaping you?” He pushed the oatmeal away. Jess pulled it back and glared at him. “You want him to hear you out, listen to anything you have to say, you want me to be physically as far from you as possible. You don’t tell him you’ve spoken to me. You don’t tell him you’ve seen me. We’ve had no contact. You’ve never heard of me. He’ll tell you he has one son and you let that stand, alright?”
Henry shook his head. “No. Not alright. First of all, Abaddon knows who you are, Sam, and there was something about you that appealed to her. I’m not comfortable leaving you alone here as prey, as a sitting duck. Second, I don’t care that he’s been through a lot, or that he’s decided on a life of hunting or whatever. You are his son. And I am his father. We are a family. And he’s going to have to accept that.” He grinned, just a little. “Third, I have no idea how I’m going to navigate between here and Minnesota or wherever if that’s a phone and that’s a computer.”
Jess chuckled. “He’s got a point there.”
Sam growled. “You realize this is getting into some seriously uncomfortable territory, right? We’re talking stolen cars, fake IDs, and a long-ass road trip to meet some very hostile people who - oh yeah, are very likely going to want to kill us.” He met Jess’ eyes squarely, pushing the food away again.
She rolled her eyes and kissed him on the nose. “Well we don’t have to let them, stupid.”
“You honestly think that your family would kill you?” Henry shook his head. “I clearly need to set some things in order with my son.” He frowned. “I might not be able to get back to my own time but I can certainly do something now.”
“That’s not - he’s a hunter,” Sam ground out. “My fiancée - I mean we cast spells. You saw it!”
“That’s one of the things we need to discuss. There’s nothing wrong with magic that doesn’t involve demonic forces.” Henry shook his head. “Now. Let’s see if we can’t figure out what happened to the rest of the Men of Letters. Maybe we can find a way to get me back to my own time after all.”
They passed the next few hours with Jess trying very hard to give Henry a crash course in modern technology as Sam tried to piece together what had happened after Henry cast his spell. As near as he could tell, news reports had spoken of a “crazed killer” going after a men’s charitable organization and slaughtering everyone inside in Normal, Illinois in February of 1958. That jived with what Henry had told him, although the names of the victims had given him pause. “At least one of them got out, Sam,” he told his grandson.
“Not according to the police report.” Sam pointed to the screen.
“I’m not sure how you’re able to get a police report on your screen, there, but that name there is a code. We need to get to the grave of the person buried there. First, though, we find my son.”
Sam took the time to look up his grandmother’s history as well, now that he had a name to work with. He wasn’t sure how to break the news of Millie Winchester’s death in 1986 to her widower.
Part of Sam felt only resentment. She’d been alive. She’d died in a car accident, in perfect health. If his father had truly felt compelled to go out and fight evil or whatever, could he not have left his sons with this close relative? They could have had stability, affection, security. Then again, maybe he’d tried. Maybe Millie hadn’t wanted them any more than John had. Who knew?
Resentment wouldn’t get him anywhere. He swallowed it down and broke the news as gently as he could. Henry took it well, or at least as well as could be expected. He teared up, but kept a stiff upper lip. “I suppose it was asking a lot to expect her to still be alive. Thank you for looking, Sam. It was very kind of you.”
Josie woke around six o’clock, and she woke with a scream. Henry returned to her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close. “It’s over,” he told her. “You were possessed but it’s over now. We’re - well, we’re safe now.”
Josie gave a massive shudder, but recognized that she wasn’t alone. “What the hell is this place?”
Henry had the good grace to look sheepish. “I. Well, when the demon attacked I got desperate. I tried a time travel spell, thinking I’d go forward, find John and he’d help me to defeat it. Instead it brought me here.”
Josie buried her face in her hands, which still had blood caked on them. “Oh, Henry. Spellwork wasn’t ever your strong suit. You should’ve - well, I don’t know.”
Henry stroked her face, tender and gentle. “Ssh. It’s okay. It worked out in the end. Meet, uh, John’s son. And fiancée. They exorcised Abaddon.”
Sam and Jess waved. “I’m sure you’d like a shower,” Jess offered. “Sam found some of my clothes that you can borrow for now. We’ll go out shopping tomorrow and find something that fits you better.”
“Um.” Josie grimaced. “That would be fantastic.” She turned to face Henry. “Did you just say we’re in the future?”
He winced. “Maybe a little?”
She sighed. “Oh, Henry.” She shook her head. “And these are Men of Letters? They look a little young.”
Sam coughed. “We’ll let Henry explain that to you after you’ve had a chance to clean up a bit. Nothing itches quite like dried blood.”
By mutual agreement, Sam and Jess went out to get takeout while Henry waited to give a fuller explanation to Josie. “You trust them?” Jess asked him, surprised.
“Kind of.” Sam shrugged. “It’s not like they’ve got anyplace else to go. Let’s worry about this family reunion road trip next, see if we can’t talk Henry out of it.” He sighed.
“You’ve been moping around about Dean for years and now you don’t want to go see him?” Jess gave him a playful shove with her shoulder.
“Not -“ Sam cut himself off and frowned. “Jess, I want to see him like I want to breathe, but he’s going to murder us. He’ll kill Henry and Josie just like he’ll kill you, for the whole witchcraft thing, and me - well. I don’t know if it’ll be for the desertion, or for being tainted, or for witchcraft, or for law school, or for having the temerity to try to get Dad and his father back together -“
“Whoa. Okay, there, no need to panic.” Jess put a hand on his chest. “Stay with me here, Sam.”
Sam took a deep breath and tried to catalog five things he could see. “Okay. I mean, I get that we, or at least I, have to go. I can’t just let the two of them go running off to Minnesota. You saw how Henry dealt when you tried to show him how to work a microwave. He’s not going to be able to drive a car or anything.”
“The mechanics of driving are the same,” she frowned. “But I get what you mean. There are so many electronics in cars now, and then there’s the whole thing with phones. No, we have to go. We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want.”
“I want,” he confessed. “I want to see my brother, and give him a beer, and tell him we’re getting married and make him come to the wedding. I even want to chase him off when he hits on you.”
“He’s not going to hit on me,” she scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“He’s totally going to hit on you. He slept with my prom date. On prom night.” Sam shook his head. “And you’re gorgeous. Before he finds out you’re a witch, he’s going to hit on you.”
“Charming.” She wrinkled her nose.
He waved a hand. “You can handle him. You’ve handled worse. I’ll step in before he gets too awful. Just wanted to give you a warning is all. But anyway, I’m not going to stay, because it’s a horrible idea.” They got their food and started back to the apartment. “It’s only going to end in a mess. We’ll let Henry get together with them and duck out before Dad realizes we’re there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She sighed. “Think they’ll be okay?”
“Henry and Josie?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s a lot to take in. But we’ll have to help them as much as we can for the next few days, right?”
Josie looked cleaner when they got back - shaken, but cleaner. Jess’ modern clothes looked a little more natural on her than Sam’s outgrown, pre-growth spurt clothes looked on Henry, but maybe that was just because they were newer. “So. Henry’s explained what he could.” She forced a thin smile onto her face. “What’s the rest of it?”
Sam and Jess dished out the food and launched into an explanation, answering questions that would help both of the time travellers fit in better in the new century. Sam set about making both of the newcomers new identities and setting up their new bank accounts, while Jess helped acquaint Josie with the computer.
Jim called the next morning at around six to tell them that he’d spoken with Dean. Their father was willing to meet this mysterious new contact. He knew nothing about his father or Abaddon, although he knew that there was demonic involvement. Sam shook his head and tried to keep the bitterness from his voice; trust his father to get excited for demons when he couldn’t for his own son. They’d meet up in Blue Earth as soon as they could get there.
“I’m going to have to drive him, Jim,” Sam admitted. “The guy - I mean, phones are an issue for him, never mind modern cars with all their electronics. Don’t worry; we’ll get a hotel room and be out of your hair. Dad will never know we were even there.”
“Sam.” Grief shook the priest’s voice. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“It kind of does, sir. But it’s okay. We’ll be there in a few days. Just give us a while to find some wheels and get some clothes for these nice folks.”
As soon as the stores opened Sam and Jess brought their guests to get clothes for themselves. On a whim, Sam grabbed a present for Dean too. It wasn’t much; the Winchesters hadn’t ever done the Christmas thing well and it had become Sam’s second least favorite holiday, but he wanted to leave something for Dean to let him know that his brother was thinking of him. After that they headed out for the start of their three-day journey, Sam having stolen them a nice and anonymous Honda Pilot. Josie, interestingly enough, showed absolutely no astonishment at the theft, only a little amusement at Henry’s reaction.
They got as far as Cedar City, Utah that day. Sam kind of wanted to press on, but the weather turned snowy and the others didn’t trust a car whose maintenance they didn’t know under those circumstances. They got two rooms and Sam had to hold back a laugh when their elders insisted on splitting up along gender lines.
“So,” he said to his grandfather, sitting down in a chair across from him. “Tell me about these Men of Letters, anyway.”
*
Dean got into his Baby and settled in for the long drive toward Blue Earth. In theory, they could do the drive in sixteen hours and Dean suspected that Dad would probably want to push for that. On the one hand, that wouldn’t be so bad. Push straight through and they wouldn’t have to deal with driving for a few days. On the other hand it would be one long-ass drive, and given how late in the year it was a lot of that drive would be spent in the dark.
Still, it wasn’t Dean’s place to set their pace, not on this job, and so he made sure he was gassed up and when his dad said that it was time to go he went. Fortunately they were blessed with good roads and good weather, never a guarantee in the Great Lakes region at this time of year but he’d take it. Dad’s monster truck might be able to handle snow but the Impala liked dry pavement thanks, and even the monster truck’s four-wheel drive didn’t help it to stop on ice.
Just as Dean expected, they drove straight through. He blared his music and tried to ignore the empty space to his right, cranking up the radio to drown out the silence. It only sort of worked, but sort of was better than nothing.
They got to Jim’s house at midnight, but the priest had left the rectory lights on for them. Dean shook his head. He knew the Church was supposed to be eternal and unchanging and all that but the way that this place had just stayed exactly the same was taking it to extremes. He could almost imagine a three-year-old Sammy running out of the front door wearing nothing but his Batman underoos and cackling like a hyena.
He shook his head to dispel the illusion. Those days were long gone. Instead he killed the engine and got his bags from the trunk. Jim was waiting for him at the door, maybe a little more gray in his hair and beard but otherwise no different than the building. “Dean,” he said with a smile, and wrapped his arms around the younger hunter in a warm embrace. “Come on inside; get out of the cold. Must have been a long drive. The contact won’t be here for another couple of days yet.” He nodded at Dad.
Dad returned the nod with a frown and closed the door behind them. “What’s the holdup? We hauled ass to get here; this guy wanted to meet with me.”
Dean held back on his sigh, keeping it internal. “John, this guy is coming up from California,” Jim explained, taking their coats. “It’s a very different drive. And I understand that his companion is recovering from some injuries. They’re not just tearing across through mostly flat country. They’ll be here.”
John’s features flattened for a moment, but he sighed. “Yeah. Of course. I’m sorry. I got excited for a possible lead. That’s all.”
“I know you did, Johnny.” Jim’s face softened. “I know you did. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get settled in? They’ll get here when they get here.”
John sighed and nodded, grabbing his bags and shuffling up the stairs. Dean turned to Jim. “Companion? Injured? Come on, Jim. Tell me the truth. Is Sam okay?”
“As far as I know. It’s a lady who’s recovering from something.” Jim grimaced. “She was possessed by the demon in question. I’m not sure of the mechanics.” Jim kept his voice to a whisper, just as Dean had. “Sam sounded fine.”
“Okay. Okay, that’s good. That’s - that’s good.” Relief washed through Dean and left him weak in the knees. “Awesome.”
“But Dean - are you ever going to tell your father that your brother had any involvement?” Jim looked tired for a moment, tired and unhappy.
“Jim - leave it. It’s not - it’s just not a good idea, okay?” Dean stretched his back. “In all these years he hasn’t said Sammy’s name, not once, okay? It’s not a good idea.”
Jim sighed heavily. “Alright. If you’re sure.”
“Oh I’m sure.” Dean didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The next day Dad woke Dean up early. Dean had been hoping for a break, a chance to rest up and recuperate from a rough few hunts, but apparently that wasn’t part of Dad’s game plan. Dad had found a nearby case for them to work while they were in the area, since they were going to be cooling their heels and all. Apparently there were reports of people suddenly freezing to death up in Alexandria, and that was only about four hours north of Blue Earth. Witnesses claimed to have seen a woman nearby - a naked Asian woman, which aroused the suspicions of the police - but no footprints were ever found in the snow.
Dean’s annoyance over losing rest time was mollified by the possibility of indulging in his admittedly inappropriate fetish, and so he and his father drove north. He was pretty sure that he knew what the thing was; he’d worked a job with Bobby Singer, not long after Sam had taken off, and it had been a lot like this (except the monster had worn clothes, white clothes.) He explained the details to his father as they drove. “What was it?” Dad asked.
“It was a Japanese spirit called a yuki-onna,” Dean said. “They’re like these snow and ice spirits. Mostly they operate like ghosts.”
“So we can fight ‘em with salt and iron,” John said, nodding. “Except they’re not actually ghosts, so there’s got to be something tethering them to the spot. What’s a Japanese spirit doing in northern Minnesota, anyway?”
Dean didn’t have an answer for that. “When I was working with Bobby, it seemed to have come out of some kind of stone. A special stone - I’d know it if I saw it again.”
Dad snorted. “You want us to find a specific pebble in all of Minnesota?”
Dean glanced at the file his father had passed him. “It looks like most of the attacks have been happening around some statue of a Viking. Oh come on, seriously? ‘Big Ole?’”
“Don’t mock, Dean. People like the Big Ole statue. It makes them feel more connected to each other.” John shifted. “It’s not our lifestyle, but it works for civilians.”
Dean nodded and bit his tongue. He didn’t remember Lawrence, not at all. He had a few hazy memories of a grassy space that could have been a yard or could have been a park, but that didn’t count. It wasn’t a community, it was just grass. Maybe they’d never really been civilians. Maybe they’d never been part of someplace; maybe they’d always been apart. Dean thought there had been something else once, but he hadn’t even been five when everything changed. Maybe he was remembering wrong. “Yes, sir.”
“So do you remember how to take it out?”
“Smash up the stone with iron, sir. That seemed to work.”
“Great.”
They rolled into town and got a motel room, but they didn’t spend a lot of time in it. They went out right away to go look for the yuki-onna. John pointed out that if most of the attacks were coming near the Big Ole statue, then they should probably head over there and start their search.
It didn’t take long to find her, or rather for her to find them. She shimmered into existence right in front of Dean, every inappropriate teenaged dream he’d ever had standing right in front of him. She stood before him, all but glowing in the moonlight; clad in nothing but her long black hair and the skin God gave her. Except, Dean remembered just in time, it wasn’t skin, and God had nothing to do with it. He pulled back the hand that had been reaching for her and lashed out with his iron crowbar.
The spirit disintegrated before him, only to reappear behind him. She raised a hand and sent him flying across the park, a sneer marring her pretty face. “You’re seriously the Winchesters?”
Dean crashed into a snow-covered bench and groaned. “Who wants to know?”
“Oh come on, Dean. Everyone knows who you’re supposed to be. Blah blah heroes, blah blah destiny, blah blah vomit. Except you’re down by one already, aren’t you?” She snorted. “A brother act is kind of hard with only one brother, isn’t it?”
A shotgun blast broke up her monologue, and her image. Dad charged through the space where she’d been and pulled Dean off the bench. “What are you doing, lying there? Get up and help me find the damn stone, Dean!”
Dean moaned as he trotted off obediently after his father. Yeah, those ribs were probably broken all right. Whatever - he could fix them up later. Right now, they had work to do. His eye picked up a few bits of color sticking out of the snow, on the side least exposed to wind. Evidently people were in the habit of bringing things to Big Ole. Because that doesn’t have pagan connotations at all, Dean thought with a toss of his head. He started to brush the snow away from the offerings, looking for the one stone that would let them go find someplace warm to rest.
He didn’t have to ask his father to cover him. Dad would always have his back. Dean took off his gloves and brushed the snow away from the things left in the snow - toys and beer cans and prettily painted rocks, candy bars and a recently added Tupperware labeled simply, “lutefisk.” Dean left that one well alone in his mad scramble.
He heard the blast of the shotgun three or four times, and felt the blast of cold air on his bare neck more than once as he focused on his task. He didn’t look up. He even ignored his father when he yelled, “Damn it, Dean, hurry it up!” Instead, he just searched harder. The damn rock had to be around here somewhere, right?
Finally, the stone came to his hand. It even felt colder than the things around it, and how that was possible Dean couldn’t begin to guess. He recognized the elaborate kanji carved into the rock, though, beautiful and compelling and oddly peaceful as he stared at it. There was no time to get caught up in the pretty object, though. He had to destroy it.
He put the rock on the base of the statue and brought the crowbar down on it, as hard as he could. The yuki-onna shrieked, and a wind blew up from out of nowhere. Dean couldn’t feel his hands, but he could see that they were wrapped around that iron bar so he brought it down on the remains of the stone again.
The spirit melted. The wind stilled. Dean dropped the crowbar as his father ran over to him. “Those hands look bad, Dean,” was all he said.
“They feel pretty bad, sir.” He huffed out a puff of hot air onto the affected limbs. “Can we put the heater on in the truck?”
Dad laughed out loud and patted Dean on the back. “Anything you want, son. That was some good work.”
Dean basked in the glory, and let his father bundle him into the truck. They drove back down to Blue Earth with John in a wildly good mood, all smiles and affability. He even volunteered some stories about himself and Deacon during the war, something he never did.
When they got back Dean felt a little more thawed out. Jim checked him out and pronounced him to be in no danger of permanent damage, although he clucked his tongue at Dean over the risk he’d taken. They all went to bed soon after and Dean was able to settle down in his bed and rest secure in the knowledge of a job well done and a father made proud, at least this once.
Dad let him sleep in the next day, and even let him take the day off in favor of researching the events that had taken place in California surrounding this new demonic menace. There wasn’t much to tell. Whatever it was seemed bad; anything that could take out an entire town’s power had to be pretty intense. Not that Dean knew much about demons.
“That’s my fault,” John sighed. “At first I wasn’t sure how much I believed in them, you know? I mean demonic spirits, sure. But full-blown demons? Those sounded like fairy tales. But the more research I got through the more I had to believe.
“I couldn’t tell you, though. I couldn’t risk it. I could already see that there was something… off… about your brother.”
It was the first time since Sammy had left that Dad had mentioned him directly. “Off, sir?” Sure, Sammy had always been a little weird, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t need to be told about demons. Especially living the kind of life they led.
“I - Dean, your mother died trying to protect him from something. And I don’t think she succeeded. I think the demon that killed her was after him. It did something to him. I’ve found other children that it affected. It… they all have powers. Abilities, given by this demon. Some of them seem benign. Some of them are outright dangerous. I’ve had to kill two of them myself already.”
Dean’s heart caught in his throat. “Kill?”
“You probably don’t want to know those details, Dean. I had some idea of what had happened by the time that he was maybe ten. I’d hoped that keeping him with us would keep him safe, keep him from turning, but…” Dad looked away.
“But you two couldn’t stop butting heads.” Dean swallowed. “And he left.”
“He wouldn’t obey. Honestly, his disobedience made me suspicious. I thought he was turning by the time he was maybe thirteen.”
Dean shook his head. “He just didn’t trust you. And you didn’t trust him. It was inevitable.”
John gave a heavy sigh. “He’s dangerous, Dean. I don’t know how dangerous yet - if he just needs to be monitored or if - well, if. But he’s under a demon’s influence, not only a demon but the demon. I just - I know with this whole thing, with that other demon coming through in Palo Alto, he’s probably on your mind.”
“Sir.” Dean gulped.
“I trust you with this, Dean. I know you’re good; you’re not going to just go take off or anything. You know that I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you boys. God knows I didn’t want to think that Sammy was… touched… by evil.”
“No sir. Of course not.” Dean struggled to keep his face neutral, but his heart was beating so hard under his skin that it had to show somehow.
“If we can find some way to kill this demon, we might be able to free him of its influence. It wouldn’t be able to control him anymore. He’d still be a freak, but he’d be able to live a relatively safe life, assuming he hasn’t completely turned to the other side.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded, mouth numb. “I understand.”
“Good. Because if anything happens to me, it’s going to fall to you to make sure that he’s not a menace to the world.”
“Of course, sir.”
John patted his back. “You’re a good son, Dean. Everything that a father could ask for.” His face was melancholy as he looked away.
Dean recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He scurried away, back up to the room he’d once shared with Sam under the eaves. At least now he knew why Dad hadn’t ever trusted or listened to Sam! But the reasons - those just couldn’t be right. He couldn’t reconcile the idea of a demon-stained brother with the boy who’d argued so passionately for solutions that caused less harm, rather than saying “screw the collateral damage.”
But Dad - well, he’d been chasing that thing for a long time. He knew things, and he’d never steered Dean wrong before. Dean didn’t know what to think, except that it was good that he’d kept his brother’s involvement secret.
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