The Grandfather Paradox 6/6
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Chapter 6
Celebration
When Megara finally clawed her way out of Hell at the end of May of 1979, she found Uriel waiting for her with a meatsuit. She flowed into the girl, bound her consciousness, and shook off Uriel’s hands.
“About time,” Uriel said.
“Can it, Smitey-pants,” Megara snarled. “What do you want?”
“For you to take up where your father left off. Find Lucifer’s chosen child.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?!”
“I believe I may have a clue. Anna has had the garrison searching for an alternate version of Castiel, one who may have appeared at the time Azazel was killed. She saw him last in Salina, Kansas. She wants nothing more than to learn what his errand might be and why he’s keeping it secret from the Host. But I believe it has to do with Lucifer’s plan.”
“So what?”
“Samandiriel was searching in St. Louis on the second of May when Barnes Jewish Hospital went off the air.”
She frowned. “How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “No communication, with Heaven or Hell. Samandiriel reports that he went to investigate and found the place warded more tightly than anything he’d ever seen before. And it stayed that way for a week. Nothing supernatural could get in... but he did see someone coming out.”
“Who?”
“Atropos.” He folded his arms with an air of satisfaction.
She blinked several times. “Why the hell would the Fates be involved with something like that personally?”
“I don’t know. But I expect you to find out. One of the humans must have seen something. Do whatever you must, but find out what happened in that hospital.”
“Why should I?”
His lip curled. “It pains me to say this, demon, but for the moment, we are on the same side. We are working for a common cause: Lucifer’s victory. I can keep the garrison looking in the wrong direction for the time being. But this is the only help you’ll get from me until my brother’s release. Make use of it while you can.”
She snarled, but before she could come up with a further response, he vanished.
Much as she hated to admit it, though, the feathered freak was right. She did want to finish her father’s work, which would not only get her back in Lilith’s good graces but also set the stage for Lord Lucifer to rule Earth. And if this was the only lead she was going to get, she ought to follow up on it. So with a sigh, she took off for St. Louis and hunted around the bars near Barnes Jewish. It was a cinch that if enough people had seen something strange enough to warrant that level of warding, at least one person would seek to drown the memories in alcohol... and in vino veritas.
Sure enough, after a few hours of making the rounds, she heard a slightly inebriated female voice declare loudly, “I’m not making it up! It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen!”
It took Megara a moment to locate the voice’s owner, a nurse whose companions were giving her a terrible time over whatever story she’d just told. Knowing her cue when she saw it, Megara sauntered over to the nurse. “Hey. These yahoos giving you trouble?”
The nurse sniffled. “I saw it. I saw it. An’ nobody believes me.”
“Hell, I’ve got an open mind. C’mere. I’ll buy you another drink, and you can tell me all about it.”
The nurse sniffled again. “’Kay. Thanks... uh... wasyour name?”
“Meg.”
“Nice to meetcha, Meg. I’m Allie.”
After a little more trading of insults with the group Allie was with, Megara-who actually kind of liked the sound of Meg and decided to keep the shortened name-finally got her over to the bar and lubricated with another Cosmopolitan. “So,” Meg prompted then, “this weird thing you saw.”
“I was checkin’ on this patient. She had a... ’mergency hysterectomy after a Caesarean. Her whole fam’ly was with her, which was weird ’nuff, y’know, ’cause they don’... norm’ly let the husban’ an’ the father-in-law an’ the kid an’ the... whoever th’other guy was all sleep in one room, y’know? W’ll, anyway, I walk in there, an’ the kid’s watchin’ TV with another nurse-I never seen this guy b’fore in my life. Anyway, kid’s complainin’ that all there is to watch is reruns an’ he’s seen every episode o’ Star Trek a hunnerd times. An’ th’other nurse says okay, maybe he can do somethin’ ’bout that.” Allie frowned a little. “Kid was, Iunno, maybe four years ol’. Dunno how he coulda seen s’much Star Trek.”
“So what was weird?”
Allie leaned forward. “I come back the next time, an’ the kid was watchin’ Star Trek, all right, ’cause they had the li’l swoopy badges on-but that wa’n’ no Star Trek show I ever seen. There was a diff’r’nt captain an’ a guy with silver skin an’ a guy with no eyes, I think was Kunta Kinte.”
Meg blinked. She hadn’t paid much attention to television in quite a while, but she’d never heard of LeVar Burton having anything to do with Star Trek.
“An’ that ain’ all.”
Meg ordered Allie another Cosmo.
“Y’know th’other guy, the one in the trench? Called ’im C’lumbo, ’cause he never took it off.” Allie giggled and snorted and took a swig of her drink.
Meg didn’t recognize the description at first, but then she remembered that the angel who’d helped the Winchesters escape had been wearing a trench coat. Could it be? “What about him?”
“He was talkin’ to the baby like he could read his mind!” Allie guffawed and knocked back the rest of her drink. Then she frowned suddenly. “Hey. Mebbe tha’s it. Mebbe he c’n... read minds an’... erase memories.” She looked at Meg in horror.
Meg shifted. “What memories?”
Allie leaned forward again, wide-eyed, her voice low. “This lady, she had a... hysterectomy.”
“You told me.”
“It wa’n’t a normal one. One o’ my friends, she works obstetrics OR, an’ she said... was the weirdes’ cancer ever, jus’... came outta nowhere. Shoulda been all over the news. But it wa’n’t.” Allie leaned so close, her forehead was almost touching Meg’s. “An’ the next day, nobody remembered it.”
Meg frowned. If Atropos had been trying to pull a fast one on an angel, or more than one if Castiel had had help from the mystery nurse, she might have conjured up something that bizarre-granted, the Fate’s style tended more toward the gruesome Rube Goldberg-esque death, but maybe she didn’t actually want the woman to die.
Allie blinked rapidly. “I wonder if the doctor was in on it.”
“The doctor?”
Allie nodded, narrowly missing knocking her head against Meg’s. “Yeah. My frien’ said he said somethin’, ’fore they lef’ the ER... ‘As surely as the Lor’ lives, Mary Campbell Winches’er, I will not let you die.’” She searched Meg’s eyes for answers, her own fearful and confused.
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
Allie shook her head. “Nobody b’lieves me.”
Meg decided to play a card she’d seen hunters use in the past. “Listen. I think I can help you.” And she pulled a fake FBI badge out of her pocket.
Allie gasped.
“Did you leave a purse or anything back with your friends?”
Allie shook her head. “Wa’n’ gonn’ drive... di’n’ bring more’n m’ house keys an’ m’ hospital ID.”
“All right. Let’s get out of here. I can arrange protective custody and get more of your story in the morning.”
Bursting into tears, Allie let Meg lead her out behind the bar. But she stopped short, confused, when there was no car in sight. “Wasgoin’ on?” she asked.
“Oh, just... one last little precaution I need to take.” Meg grabbed Allie’s shirt and pushed her against the wall beside the dumpster, pressing her borrowed body up against the nurse’s.
“P-p-please... please don’ hur’ me....”
“No,” Meg purred, letting her eyes go black. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.” And while Allie was still gasping in terror, Meg shoved her smoke down Allie’s throat, leaving her angel-picked meatsuit behind.
Said meatsuit dropped her hands and stumbled backward. “Please... please don’t-”
“Sorry, kid,” Meg stated, picking up the knife and bowl she’d hidden behind the dumpster. “No loose ends.” With that, she slit the girl’s throat, rifled through Allie’s memories to confirm her suspicions, and called home.
I trust this is good news, pet, Alastair answered.
“The best,” Meg replied. “I have a line on the Winchesters.”
Do you indeed? Excellent. Tell me.
She passed on everything Allie had told her and some things that Allie hadn’t known, such as the warding and the identity of Castiel’s helper.
But Alastair wasn’t as pleased as she had hoped. In fact, she could almost hear him frown. No, no, no, none of this conforms to Lord Lucifer’s plan. And if Loki is involved, the woman’s memories are most untrustworthy. Use her to gain entrance to the hospital, and search for Mary Winchester’s records.
“And if I don’t find them?”
Go back to Lawrence. Search high and low until you find some means of discerning where the Winchesters have gone. But dearest... make haste. If in fact Sam Winchester has been born, the window of our opportunity grows small.
Meg nodded. “Understood.”
I don’t need to tell you how rich your reward will be if you succeed. Nor need I stress how... disappointed I shall be if you should fail. Do I, poppet?
Meg gulped. “No, my lord.”
Good. I shall be waiting. And Alastair ended the call.
Allie was incoherent with terror and kept trying to convince herself she was dreaming as Meg used her ID to gain access to the hospital and her body to have some fun with a night watchman to get into the records room-fun that ended with snapping his neck and pushing his body down the stairs to ensure his silence. Meg ignored her and focused on finding any trace of Mary Winchester. But the records folder was gone, and even the security camera tapes from the week of May 2-8 had been erased. Nor was there physical evidence to go on; anything that might have touched Mary’s blood or that of her son had already been destroyed, disposed of, cleaned thoroughly, and/or used by enough other people to be contaminated beyond demonic use. Meg growled and left.
Morning found her attempting to set up shop in Lawrence. But the town had changed too much over the last six years for progress to be swift. Many of John and Mary’s friends had moved away, and the few who hadn’t, like Mike Guenther, hadn’t seen or heard from either John or Mary since their disappearance. One of Mary’s friends suggested trying the safe house where Meg and Abaddon had cornered the Winchesters before, but Meg arrived to find it abandoned and in even worse shape than it had been when Abaddon finished with it. The Campbells clearly hadn’t been back since, and neither had the Winchesters.
That thought, however, gave Meg an idea, so she hopped over to Greenville, IL, to pay a call on an old friend. And much to her delight, she was greeted by the sour smell of despairing alcoholic. She sauntered into the kitchen to find her mark sitting at the table and contemplating whether to have some Wheaties with his whiskey or just skip food altogether this day. Perfect.
“Howdy, Ed,” she drawled. “Long time, no see.”
“Go to hell,” Ed shot back dully without even looking up at her.
“Aw, don’t be like that, Eddie. I just came from there. And I couldn’t very well not come say hello-we’ve got a lot in common, you know. You lost two brothers the same time I lost my father and my big sister.”
That hit home, and he looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Megara.”
“And we’re both worried about that precious little niece of yours.” She slid his chair back far enough that she could sit down straddling his lap. “So why don’t you be a good boy and help me find her?”
“Hell, no.”
“I could make it worth your while.”
“You’ve got nothing I want.”
“Yes, I do.” She leaned closer, running a finger down his chest. “You help me, and I’ll kill you quickly.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll kill you slowly-it might take, oh, ten, twenty years.” She let her eyes go black. “Depends on how much fun I want to have, ’cause I would love to hear you scream.”
Even this ex-sergeant major and seasoned hunter felt fear at the prospect of prolonged, creative torture. She could smell it on him, as surely as she felt his heart start racing.
She slid her arms around his neck. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” Ed breathed.
She kissed him far more deeply than he was expecting and reveled in his revulsion and Allie’s disgust. Then she locked Allie away before continuing. “Now. My orders were to begin in Lawrence, but all I hit were dead ends.”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. Wherever they are, they’re not in Lawrence. The angel covered his tracks too well for that.”
“He’s been seen in St. Louis and Salina. I checked St. Louis, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.”
“Really.”
“She’s the only one Castiel and Loki missed in their cover-up. But she saw them both.”
“Did it ever occur to you that she might have been left as a trap?”
Her lip curled. “I can start on you right here.”
He sighed. “All right, all right. I can get us some papers that will open the right doors in Salina.”
She smiled and toyed with his ear. “Excellent.”
“Th-there’s... one... other....”
“I’m listening,” she breathed in his other ear.
He took a ragged breath. “There’s one true psychic in Lawrence. I-I don’t know if she can help us, if....” He broke off with a gulp. “I-I don’t-Megara, I-”
“What’s her name?”
“Please, I can’t....” A tear trickled down his cheek. But Meg knew exactly what buttons to push on a man without actually hurting him, and she pushed Ed’s with surgical precision until his pleas for her to stop finally gave way to, “Missouri! M-Missouri Mosely!”
She kissed him again and ran her fingers through his hair as he struggled for breath. “There, now, was that so hard?” Then she pinched his cheek and stood. “Come on, get yourself sober and dressed. We’ve got work to do. And Ed?” She dangled his anti-possession charm in front of him, letting him see where she’d broken the chain without touching the pendant. “You get any bright ideas, and I will possess you again.”
Sobbing, Ed dragged himself upstairs to the shower. But she didn’t feel the need to follow. She knew he’d comply-he had nothing left to lose, and after all, they did have a deal.
Even with Ed’s help, however, the investigation went nowhere. Ed had a police artist friend draw up sketches of Castiel and Loki, but no one in Salina remembered having seen them, even at the office of the best obstetrician in town where months of records had vanished. Nor could the Campbells’ hunting connections give them more than rumored sightings around the world of Castiel with a small child and a man who might or might not have been Henry Winchester. And Missouri Mosely either would not or could not help them, claiming every time they asked that she hadn’t gotten a clear reading on anyone who wasn’t in the immediate vicinity in years.
The confused web of rabbit trails and red herrings kept Meg away from Lawrence from August to the early part of November. Finally, on the morning of November 3, she left Ed in Greenville and went back to Missouri’s house-to find the young woman laughing, crying, whooping, dancing, and shouting glory. Annoyed at this display of joy, Meg blew the door open and stormed in with a sharp “Missouri!”
But Missouri only laughed the harder. “Glory! Glory, hallelujah, the veil has been lifted! And child, you failed. Do you hear me? You failed! You take that back to your masters in Hell! Your plan for Sammy Winchester HAS FAILED!” And before Meg could figure out how to react, Missouri began the Latin exorcism, speaking so fast it almost sounded like she was praying in tongues.
Meg lunged for the psychic, only to bounce off the edge of a devil’s trap that hadn’t been present the last time she’d been there. And as the exorcism ripped her from her host and forced her back to what promised to be a long stint in the Pit, she cursed the day she’d ever laid eyes on Uriel.
Meanwhile, across town, Millie Hardesty’s phone rang. And when she answered, she got the shock of a lifetime:
“Mom?”
She gasped loudly. “Johnny?!”
“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.” He sounded older, maybe a little rougher, but that was her baby boy’s voice.
She burst into tears. “I never thought I’d hear your voice again!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “Look, I know we’ve got a lot to catch up on, but the reason I’m calling is, I just put an offer on a house here in Lebanon.”
“Lebanon? Kansas?”
“Yes, ma’am. Think we’ve got a good chance of getting it; market’s pretty slow right now, and the owners want to be out by the holidays. So I, um... was wondering if... if you’d want to come out for Thanksgiving. See Pops, meet the boys.”
She gasped again, more quietly. “You have sons?”
“Yeah, two of ’em, Sammy and Dean... Dean Miles, for you and Deanna Campbell.” She could hear his smile. “You’ll be real proud of ’em, Mom. They’re the best, the brightest-heck, I don’t even know all the right words.”
“And how’s Mary?”
“She’s fine. We’ve been married six, six and a half years now. We-we had a real scare, few months back, when Sammy was born. Almost lost her. But... everything’s copacetic now. She’s doing great.”
Millie clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back the audible sobs that threatened to spill out with the tears streaming down her cheeks. She truly hadn’t thought that she would live to see this day, and part of her feared that even if she were well enough to travel at Thanksgiving, which was by no means a given, she’d only ruin the gathering with her own bad news. And she didn’t know how she felt about seeing Henry after all these years. But then... could she really pass up what might be her one and only chance to see her grandchildren, her last chance to hug her son and daughter-in-law?
“Mom?”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, angel, I’ll come.”
The first months out of the bunker were bittersweet. The Letters’ ample funds were more than enough to buy and furnish all three houses and an engine repair shop for John. Henry went in with him as his business manager, and they agreed to put the Aquarian Star and certain other signs in the logo and use the shop as a front for rebuilding the Letters’ presence in the hunting world. They were indeed all settled by Thanksgiving, and Millie did come out to spend the weekend with John and Mary and the boys. But though she hid it well from Dean and Sammy was too little to notice, Henry could tell that she wasn’t feeling well, and she finally confessed to the adults that she was terminally ill. She didn’t go into specifics, but she declined Cas’ offer of healing, declaring that she was ready to go when the time came. John and Mary took the boys to see her again before Christmas, but by New Year’s, she was gone.
That was an exceptionally hard Christmas for Mary, not only seeing Lawrence again and knowing that they were about to lose Millie but also learning that both of her uncles were dead, Robert at Abaddon’s hand, Ed at his own in remorse over having stooped to helping a demon. She and John did meet and find a staunch friend in Missouri Mosely, however, who had nothing but good to say about the boys and assured Mary that they were indeed in the clear.
Nor was Missouri the only new friend of the family. Not long before Valentine’s Day, Winchester & Son received a call from Singer Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls. “Real interestin’ logo you got there, Mr. Winchester,” Mr. Singer drawled in a way that made it obvious that he knew exactly what it meant. “I’m headed down your way here in a couple weeks. What would you say to meetin’ me an’ my partner for lunch to... discuss business?”
“We are certainly open to expanding our clientele, and our list of parts suppliers,” John replied into the speakerphone with an equally knowing tone. “And depending on the nature of the business and the nature of the weather, my wife makes the best soups in town-she is, after all, a Campbell.”
Henry could almost hear Mr. Singer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that a fact? Well, then, I think we can iron something out-any Campbell worth her salt would be a good cook.”
“When shall I tell her to get out her very best silver?”
Mr. Singer chuckled. “How’s Monday, March 3, sound?”
“Sounds just about perfect.”
“Good deal. Oh, and by all that’s holy, water to drink.”
“Understood,” father and son chorused, sharing a smile.
And when, on March 3, John met Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner at the door with a shot of holy water apiece, Henry knew he’d not only begun to re-establish the Letters’ hunting network but also made two friends for life.
There would be others, too-some, like Gordon Walker, only confirmed Henry’s general opinion of hunters, but some of the better ones included Bill Harvelle, who ran a bar in Nebraska, and Jim Murphy, one of John’s war buddies who’d turned not only preacher but also hunter. The more hunters John befriended, the more he became drawn to that side of the business. While he usually turned down invitations to join a hunt for legitimate family reasons, Henry and Mary both suspected that his resolve wouldn’t hold out forever. And eventually a request arrived that John couldn’t turn down, an urgent hunt Bill knew would be a two-man job but for which he genuinely couldn’t find another partner.
“People are dying, Mary,” John told her quietly as he prepared to leave with Bill.
Mary laughed bitterly. “People are always dying.”
“Look, even if I don’t come out of this thing scarred for life, even if I like it... it’s not like I’ve forgotten what happened to your mom and dad, how we got into this mess. I have no intention of abandoning the family. I just... need to make sure Bill gets back to his.”
She sighed. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” he answered and kissed her.
He was, did get Bill home safely, and reported that the hunt wouldn’t gone half as smoothly if he hadn’t gone in armed with both Letters and hunting training. He was also convinced that he had something to offer on hunts that were at least a Class 2, much to Mary’s distress. They fought over it, and to help them settle the matter, Henry had to call in opinions from their most trusted hunter friends and the angels. (Gabriel said, “You think our family’s the picture of health?” but Cas shushed him.) By their second Thanksgiving in the house, however, Bobby had begun establishing himself as the hunters’ dispatch hub and got John to agree to accept only cases cleared by him for which either Letters expertise was needed on scene or no other hunter was available. Mary still wasn’t totally happy, and neither was Henry, but John would accept no other compromise.
As for the boys, well, they were a healthy, happy double handful. Dean adjusted rather better to living above ground in a house with a yard where he could run and play in good weather than he did to the idea that he couldn’t tell the neighbors everything about his family. He thrived as a homeschooler, though, and began making friends with the neighborhood kids once spring rolled around and tee-ball started up. Sammy, meanwhile, was turning out to be brilliant, curious, and very strong-willed. The house admittedly had fewer hazards than the bunker did, but even the thorough baby-proofing John and Mary did wasn’t able to stop Sammy from prying off outlet covers, poking at gadgets until they did something, and (once) destroying a roll of film by taking it apart. The Saturday morning Henry came over to find Mary on the couch clutching her head while Sammy used her pots and pans for a drum kit in the kitchen to accompany his loud, tuneless singing and Dean raced through the house yelling “Mom, Mom, I wanna go see Aunt Dorothy!” made him glad not only that he was there to take them off her hands for a few hours... but also that he was only their grandfather and could give them back at the end of the day.
For his own part, Henry found having a whole house to himself more of an adjustment than he’d anticipated. The kids were still close by, of course, as were the angels, who came over often to continue their habit of sitting and talking for hours. Gabriel was more inclined to tell funny stories than to pass on lore, but Henry recorded even those-no telling what future Letters might get bored on bunker duty and need the diversion of Loki’s Greatest Pranks. And it was nearly impossible to remain isolated for long in such a small community, especially as a businessman. Still, it was... not hard, exactly, but odd to get used to living alone after all this time. On the other hand, though, it gave him the time and space to go back to the bunker every few weekends and finish the research he’d intended to do into the Letters’ history and secrets. Some surprised him; some disappointed him. But all made him glad he had survived to usher in a new generation of Letters.
There was only one end that he felt was left too loose. And the chance to tie it up came when, toward the end of April of 1981, Henry glanced away from Dean’s tee-ball game as the teams were switching in the middle of the ninth inning and saw a familiar couple sitting alone further up in the stands. He knew everyone else’s attention would be on the field, since the visiting team was ahead by only one run. So when the wife got up to go to the concession stand, Henry gave his apologies to John and went up to sit by the husband.
“Hi, Larry,” he said quietly.
Larry gasped. “Henry!”
“You’re looking well.”
Larry held up a hand, and Henry guided it to his face. Once he’d felt Henry’s features, Larry chuckled. “So are you.”
The first of Dean’s teammates to bat this inning hit a single.
Henry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Larry, tell me something. You’ve known we were in town for over a year-as small as Lebanon is, you have to have known. Why haven’t you tried to contact me?”
Larry sighed. “I... I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t think it was safe.”
“Ah, just like you didn’t think I needed to know why Cuthbert Sinclair was thrown out of the Letters?”
“It was none of your concern.”
The second batter singled.
Henry shook his head. “He was my mentor, my friend. When no one explained, I... I kept in touch with him. I had no idea he’d gone so far over the line. I mean, it’s not that I disagree; what he did was beyond the pale. I just wish someone had warned me.”
Larry’s ruined eyes widened. “You’ve been to....”
“I’m not going to tell you how I found it, but yeah, the kids and I lived there for about six years. Found Dotty Baum, by the way. She’s safely back in Oz now.”
The third batter also singled.
“We shouldn’t be discussing this here,” Larry hissed.
Henry snorted. “Abaddon’s dead. Has been for eight years.”
“What?”
“The bases are loaded,” the announcer stated for anyone who wasn’t paying attention. “Here comes Dean Winchester up to the plate. Will he be able to knock in a run?”
Dean squared up to the tee, got a line on the ball, pulled the bat back to his shoulder, and sent the ball sailing over the left field fence in fair territory-a grand slam. The crowd went wild, but soaring above the adult voices, Henry could clearly hear Sammy’s joyful squeal of “DEEEEEE!”
Then as Dean rounded the bases, someone put last winter’s smash hit by Kool & the Gang on the loudspeaker-Celebrate good times, COME ON!
“It’s a new era, my friend,” Henry said into Larry’s ear so as to be heard over the happy commotion. “Time to stop hiding and start living.” And with a friendly slap on Larry’s shoulder, he started down the bleachers to join his family’s jubilation.
The Beginning
Chapter 6
Celebration
When Megara finally clawed her way out of Hell at the end of May of 1979, she found Uriel waiting for her with a meatsuit. She flowed into the girl, bound her consciousness, and shook off Uriel’s hands.
“About time,” Uriel said.
“Can it, Smitey-pants,” Megara snarled. “What do you want?”
“For you to take up where your father left off. Find Lucifer’s chosen child.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?!”
“I believe I may have a clue. Anna has had the garrison searching for an alternate version of Castiel, one who may have appeared at the time Azazel was killed. She saw him last in Salina, Kansas. She wants nothing more than to learn what his errand might be and why he’s keeping it secret from the Host. But I believe it has to do with Lucifer’s plan.”
“So what?”
“Samandiriel was searching in St. Louis on the second of May when Barnes Jewish Hospital went off the air.”
She frowned. “How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “No communication, with Heaven or Hell. Samandiriel reports that he went to investigate and found the place warded more tightly than anything he’d ever seen before. And it stayed that way for a week. Nothing supernatural could get in... but he did see someone coming out.”
“Who?”
“Atropos.” He folded his arms with an air of satisfaction.
She blinked several times. “Why the hell would the Fates be involved with something like that personally?”
“I don’t know. But I expect you to find out. One of the humans must have seen something. Do whatever you must, but find out what happened in that hospital.”
“Why should I?”
His lip curled. “It pains me to say this, demon, but for the moment, we are on the same side. We are working for a common cause: Lucifer’s victory. I can keep the garrison looking in the wrong direction for the time being. But this is the only help you’ll get from me until my brother’s release. Make use of it while you can.”
She snarled, but before she could come up with a further response, he vanished.
Much as she hated to admit it, though, the feathered freak was right. She did want to finish her father’s work, which would not only get her back in Lilith’s good graces but also set the stage for Lord Lucifer to rule Earth. And if this was the only lead she was going to get, she ought to follow up on it. So with a sigh, she took off for St. Louis and hunted around the bars near Barnes Jewish. It was a cinch that if enough people had seen something strange enough to warrant that level of warding, at least one person would seek to drown the memories in alcohol... and in vino veritas.
Sure enough, after a few hours of making the rounds, she heard a slightly inebriated female voice declare loudly, “I’m not making it up! It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen!”
It took Megara a moment to locate the voice’s owner, a nurse whose companions were giving her a terrible time over whatever story she’d just told. Knowing her cue when she saw it, Megara sauntered over to the nurse. “Hey. These yahoos giving you trouble?”
The nurse sniffled. “I saw it. I saw it. An’ nobody believes me.”
“Hell, I’ve got an open mind. C’mere. I’ll buy you another drink, and you can tell me all about it.”
The nurse sniffled again. “’Kay. Thanks... uh... wasyour name?”
“Meg.”
“Nice to meetcha, Meg. I’m Allie.”
After a little more trading of insults with the group Allie was with, Megara-who actually kind of liked the sound of Meg and decided to keep the shortened name-finally got her over to the bar and lubricated with another Cosmopolitan. “So,” Meg prompted then, “this weird thing you saw.”
“I was checkin’ on this patient. She had a... ’mergency hysterectomy after a Caesarean. Her whole fam’ly was with her, which was weird ’nuff, y’know, ’cause they don’... norm’ly let the husban’ an’ the father-in-law an’ the kid an’ the... whoever th’other guy was all sleep in one room, y’know? W’ll, anyway, I walk in there, an’ the kid’s watchin’ TV with another nurse-I never seen this guy b’fore in my life. Anyway, kid’s complainin’ that all there is to watch is reruns an’ he’s seen every episode o’ Star Trek a hunnerd times. An’ th’other nurse says okay, maybe he can do somethin’ ’bout that.” Allie frowned a little. “Kid was, Iunno, maybe four years ol’. Dunno how he coulda seen s’much Star Trek.”
“So what was weird?”
Allie leaned forward. “I come back the next time, an’ the kid was watchin’ Star Trek, all right, ’cause they had the li’l swoopy badges on-but that wa’n’ no Star Trek show I ever seen. There was a diff’r’nt captain an’ a guy with silver skin an’ a guy with no eyes, I think was Kunta Kinte.”
Meg blinked. She hadn’t paid much attention to television in quite a while, but she’d never heard of LeVar Burton having anything to do with Star Trek.
“An’ that ain’ all.”
Meg ordered Allie another Cosmo.
“Y’know th’other guy, the one in the trench? Called ’im C’lumbo, ’cause he never took it off.” Allie giggled and snorted and took a swig of her drink.
Meg didn’t recognize the description at first, but then she remembered that the angel who’d helped the Winchesters escape had been wearing a trench coat. Could it be? “What about him?”
“He was talkin’ to the baby like he could read his mind!” Allie guffawed and knocked back the rest of her drink. Then she frowned suddenly. “Hey. Mebbe tha’s it. Mebbe he c’n... read minds an’... erase memories.” She looked at Meg in horror.
Meg shifted. “What memories?”
Allie leaned forward again, wide-eyed, her voice low. “This lady, she had a... hysterectomy.”
“You told me.”
“It wa’n’t a normal one. One o’ my friends, she works obstetrics OR, an’ she said... was the weirdes’ cancer ever, jus’... came outta nowhere. Shoulda been all over the news. But it wa’n’t.” Allie leaned so close, her forehead was almost touching Meg’s. “An’ the next day, nobody remembered it.”
Meg frowned. If Atropos had been trying to pull a fast one on an angel, or more than one if Castiel had had help from the mystery nurse, she might have conjured up something that bizarre-granted, the Fate’s style tended more toward the gruesome Rube Goldberg-esque death, but maybe she didn’t actually want the woman to die.
Allie blinked rapidly. “I wonder if the doctor was in on it.”
“The doctor?”
Allie nodded, narrowly missing knocking her head against Meg’s. “Yeah. My frien’ said he said somethin’, ’fore they lef’ the ER... ‘As surely as the Lor’ lives, Mary Campbell Winches’er, I will not let you die.’” She searched Meg’s eyes for answers, her own fearful and confused.
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
Allie shook her head. “Nobody b’lieves me.”
Meg decided to play a card she’d seen hunters use in the past. “Listen. I think I can help you.” And she pulled a fake FBI badge out of her pocket.
Allie gasped.
“Did you leave a purse or anything back with your friends?”
Allie shook her head. “Wa’n’ gonn’ drive... di’n’ bring more’n m’ house keys an’ m’ hospital ID.”
“All right. Let’s get out of here. I can arrange protective custody and get more of your story in the morning.”
Bursting into tears, Allie let Meg lead her out behind the bar. But she stopped short, confused, when there was no car in sight. “Wasgoin’ on?” she asked.
“Oh, just... one last little precaution I need to take.” Meg grabbed Allie’s shirt and pushed her against the wall beside the dumpster, pressing her borrowed body up against the nurse’s.
“P-p-please... please don’ hur’ me....”
“No,” Meg purred, letting her eyes go black. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.” And while Allie was still gasping in terror, Meg shoved her smoke down Allie’s throat, leaving her angel-picked meatsuit behind.
Said meatsuit dropped her hands and stumbled backward. “Please... please don’t-”
“Sorry, kid,” Meg stated, picking up the knife and bowl she’d hidden behind the dumpster. “No loose ends.” With that, she slit the girl’s throat, rifled through Allie’s memories to confirm her suspicions, and called home.
I trust this is good news, pet, Alastair answered.
“The best,” Meg replied. “I have a line on the Winchesters.”
Do you indeed? Excellent. Tell me.
She passed on everything Allie had told her and some things that Allie hadn’t known, such as the warding and the identity of Castiel’s helper.
But Alastair wasn’t as pleased as she had hoped. In fact, she could almost hear him frown. No, no, no, none of this conforms to Lord Lucifer’s plan. And if Loki is involved, the woman’s memories are most untrustworthy. Use her to gain entrance to the hospital, and search for Mary Winchester’s records.
“And if I don’t find them?”
Go back to Lawrence. Search high and low until you find some means of discerning where the Winchesters have gone. But dearest... make haste. If in fact Sam Winchester has been born, the window of our opportunity grows small.
Meg nodded. “Understood.”
I don’t need to tell you how rich your reward will be if you succeed. Nor need I stress how... disappointed I shall be if you should fail. Do I, poppet?
Meg gulped. “No, my lord.”
Good. I shall be waiting. And Alastair ended the call.
Allie was incoherent with terror and kept trying to convince herself she was dreaming as Meg used her ID to gain access to the hospital and her body to have some fun with a night watchman to get into the records room-fun that ended with snapping his neck and pushing his body down the stairs to ensure his silence. Meg ignored her and focused on finding any trace of Mary Winchester. But the records folder was gone, and even the security camera tapes from the week of May 2-8 had been erased. Nor was there physical evidence to go on; anything that might have touched Mary’s blood or that of her son had already been destroyed, disposed of, cleaned thoroughly, and/or used by enough other people to be contaminated beyond demonic use. Meg growled and left.
Morning found her attempting to set up shop in Lawrence. But the town had changed too much over the last six years for progress to be swift. Many of John and Mary’s friends had moved away, and the few who hadn’t, like Mike Guenther, hadn’t seen or heard from either John or Mary since their disappearance. One of Mary’s friends suggested trying the safe house where Meg and Abaddon had cornered the Winchesters before, but Meg arrived to find it abandoned and in even worse shape than it had been when Abaddon finished with it. The Campbells clearly hadn’t been back since, and neither had the Winchesters.
That thought, however, gave Meg an idea, so she hopped over to Greenville, IL, to pay a call on an old friend. And much to her delight, she was greeted by the sour smell of despairing alcoholic. She sauntered into the kitchen to find her mark sitting at the table and contemplating whether to have some Wheaties with his whiskey or just skip food altogether this day. Perfect.
“Howdy, Ed,” she drawled. “Long time, no see.”
“Go to hell,” Ed shot back dully without even looking up at her.
“Aw, don’t be like that, Eddie. I just came from there. And I couldn’t very well not come say hello-we’ve got a lot in common, you know. You lost two brothers the same time I lost my father and my big sister.”
That hit home, and he looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Megara.”
“And we’re both worried about that precious little niece of yours.” She slid his chair back far enough that she could sit down straddling his lap. “So why don’t you be a good boy and help me find her?”
“Hell, no.”
“I could make it worth your while.”
“You’ve got nothing I want.”
“Yes, I do.” She leaned closer, running a finger down his chest. “You help me, and I’ll kill you quickly.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll kill you slowly-it might take, oh, ten, twenty years.” She let her eyes go black. “Depends on how much fun I want to have, ’cause I would love to hear you scream.”
Even this ex-sergeant major and seasoned hunter felt fear at the prospect of prolonged, creative torture. She could smell it on him, as surely as she felt his heart start racing.
She slid her arms around his neck. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” Ed breathed.
She kissed him far more deeply than he was expecting and reveled in his revulsion and Allie’s disgust. Then she locked Allie away before continuing. “Now. My orders were to begin in Lawrence, but all I hit were dead ends.”
He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. Wherever they are, they’re not in Lawrence. The angel covered his tracks too well for that.”
“He’s been seen in St. Louis and Salina. I checked St. Louis, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.”
“Really.”
“She’s the only one Castiel and Loki missed in their cover-up. But she saw them both.”
“Did it ever occur to you that she might have been left as a trap?”
Her lip curled. “I can start on you right here.”
He sighed. “All right, all right. I can get us some papers that will open the right doors in Salina.”
She smiled and toyed with his ear. “Excellent.”
“Th-there’s... one... other....”
“I’m listening,” she breathed in his other ear.
He took a ragged breath. “There’s one true psychic in Lawrence. I-I don’t know if she can help us, if....” He broke off with a gulp. “I-I don’t-Megara, I-”
“What’s her name?”
“Please, I can’t....” A tear trickled down his cheek. But Meg knew exactly what buttons to push on a man without actually hurting him, and she pushed Ed’s with surgical precision until his pleas for her to stop finally gave way to, “Missouri! M-Missouri Mosely!”
She kissed him again and ran her fingers through his hair as he struggled for breath. “There, now, was that so hard?” Then she pinched his cheek and stood. “Come on, get yourself sober and dressed. We’ve got work to do. And Ed?” She dangled his anti-possession charm in front of him, letting him see where she’d broken the chain without touching the pendant. “You get any bright ideas, and I will possess you again.”
Sobbing, Ed dragged himself upstairs to the shower. But she didn’t feel the need to follow. She knew he’d comply-he had nothing left to lose, and after all, they did have a deal.
Even with Ed’s help, however, the investigation went nowhere. Ed had a police artist friend draw up sketches of Castiel and Loki, but no one in Salina remembered having seen them, even at the office of the best obstetrician in town where months of records had vanished. Nor could the Campbells’ hunting connections give them more than rumored sightings around the world of Castiel with a small child and a man who might or might not have been Henry Winchester. And Missouri Mosely either would not or could not help them, claiming every time they asked that she hadn’t gotten a clear reading on anyone who wasn’t in the immediate vicinity in years.
The confused web of rabbit trails and red herrings kept Meg away from Lawrence from August to the early part of November. Finally, on the morning of November 3, she left Ed in Greenville and went back to Missouri’s house-to find the young woman laughing, crying, whooping, dancing, and shouting glory. Annoyed at this display of joy, Meg blew the door open and stormed in with a sharp “Missouri!”
But Missouri only laughed the harder. “Glory! Glory, hallelujah, the veil has been lifted! And child, you failed. Do you hear me? You failed! You take that back to your masters in Hell! Your plan for Sammy Winchester HAS FAILED!” And before Meg could figure out how to react, Missouri began the Latin exorcism, speaking so fast it almost sounded like she was praying in tongues.
Meg lunged for the psychic, only to bounce off the edge of a devil’s trap that hadn’t been present the last time she’d been there. And as the exorcism ripped her from her host and forced her back to what promised to be a long stint in the Pit, she cursed the day she’d ever laid eyes on Uriel.
Meanwhile, across town, Millie Hardesty’s phone rang. And when she answered, she got the shock of a lifetime:
“Mom?”
She gasped loudly. “Johnny?!”
“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.” He sounded older, maybe a little rougher, but that was her baby boy’s voice.
She burst into tears. “I never thought I’d hear your voice again!”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “Look, I know we’ve got a lot to catch up on, but the reason I’m calling is, I just put an offer on a house here in Lebanon.”
“Lebanon? Kansas?”
“Yes, ma’am. Think we’ve got a good chance of getting it; market’s pretty slow right now, and the owners want to be out by the holidays. So I, um... was wondering if... if you’d want to come out for Thanksgiving. See Pops, meet the boys.”
She gasped again, more quietly. “You have sons?”
“Yeah, two of ’em, Sammy and Dean... Dean Miles, for you and Deanna Campbell.” She could hear his smile. “You’ll be real proud of ’em, Mom. They’re the best, the brightest-heck, I don’t even know all the right words.”
“And how’s Mary?”
“She’s fine. We’ve been married six, six and a half years now. We-we had a real scare, few months back, when Sammy was born. Almost lost her. But... everything’s copacetic now. She’s doing great.”
Millie clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back the audible sobs that threatened to spill out with the tears streaming down her cheeks. She truly hadn’t thought that she would live to see this day, and part of her feared that even if she were well enough to travel at Thanksgiving, which was by no means a given, she’d only ruin the gathering with her own bad news. And she didn’t know how she felt about seeing Henry after all these years. But then... could she really pass up what might be her one and only chance to see her grandchildren, her last chance to hug her son and daughter-in-law?
“Mom?”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, angel, I’ll come.”
The first months out of the bunker were bittersweet. The Letters’ ample funds were more than enough to buy and furnish all three houses and an engine repair shop for John. Henry went in with him as his business manager, and they agreed to put the Aquarian Star and certain other signs in the logo and use the shop as a front for rebuilding the Letters’ presence in the hunting world. They were indeed all settled by Thanksgiving, and Millie did come out to spend the weekend with John and Mary and the boys. But though she hid it well from Dean and Sammy was too little to notice, Henry could tell that she wasn’t feeling well, and she finally confessed to the adults that she was terminally ill. She didn’t go into specifics, but she declined Cas’ offer of healing, declaring that she was ready to go when the time came. John and Mary took the boys to see her again before Christmas, but by New Year’s, she was gone.
That was an exceptionally hard Christmas for Mary, not only seeing Lawrence again and knowing that they were about to lose Millie but also learning that both of her uncles were dead, Robert at Abaddon’s hand, Ed at his own in remorse over having stooped to helping a demon. She and John did meet and find a staunch friend in Missouri Mosely, however, who had nothing but good to say about the boys and assured Mary that they were indeed in the clear.
Nor was Missouri the only new friend of the family. Not long before Valentine’s Day, Winchester & Son received a call from Singer Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls. “Real interestin’ logo you got there, Mr. Winchester,” Mr. Singer drawled in a way that made it obvious that he knew exactly what it meant. “I’m headed down your way here in a couple weeks. What would you say to meetin’ me an’ my partner for lunch to... discuss business?”
“We are certainly open to expanding our clientele, and our list of parts suppliers,” John replied into the speakerphone with an equally knowing tone. “And depending on the nature of the business and the nature of the weather, my wife makes the best soups in town-she is, after all, a Campbell.”
Henry could almost hear Mr. Singer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that a fact? Well, then, I think we can iron something out-any Campbell worth her salt would be a good cook.”
“When shall I tell her to get out her very best silver?”
Mr. Singer chuckled. “How’s Monday, March 3, sound?”
“Sounds just about perfect.”
“Good deal. Oh, and by all that’s holy, water to drink.”
“Understood,” father and son chorused, sharing a smile.
And when, on March 3, John met Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner at the door with a shot of holy water apiece, Henry knew he’d not only begun to re-establish the Letters’ hunting network but also made two friends for life.
There would be others, too-some, like Gordon Walker, only confirmed Henry’s general opinion of hunters, but some of the better ones included Bill Harvelle, who ran a bar in Nebraska, and Jim Murphy, one of John’s war buddies who’d turned not only preacher but also hunter. The more hunters John befriended, the more he became drawn to that side of the business. While he usually turned down invitations to join a hunt for legitimate family reasons, Henry and Mary both suspected that his resolve wouldn’t hold out forever. And eventually a request arrived that John couldn’t turn down, an urgent hunt Bill knew would be a two-man job but for which he genuinely couldn’t find another partner.
“People are dying, Mary,” John told her quietly as he prepared to leave with Bill.
Mary laughed bitterly. “People are always dying.”
“Look, even if I don’t come out of this thing scarred for life, even if I like it... it’s not like I’ve forgotten what happened to your mom and dad, how we got into this mess. I have no intention of abandoning the family. I just... need to make sure Bill gets back to his.”
She sighed. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” he answered and kissed her.
He was, did get Bill home safely, and reported that the hunt wouldn’t gone half as smoothly if he hadn’t gone in armed with both Letters and hunting training. He was also convinced that he had something to offer on hunts that were at least a Class 2, much to Mary’s distress. They fought over it, and to help them settle the matter, Henry had to call in opinions from their most trusted hunter friends and the angels. (Gabriel said, “You think our family’s the picture of health?” but Cas shushed him.) By their second Thanksgiving in the house, however, Bobby had begun establishing himself as the hunters’ dispatch hub and got John to agree to accept only cases cleared by him for which either Letters expertise was needed on scene or no other hunter was available. Mary still wasn’t totally happy, and neither was Henry, but John would accept no other compromise.
As for the boys, well, they were a healthy, happy double handful. Dean adjusted rather better to living above ground in a house with a yard where he could run and play in good weather than he did to the idea that he couldn’t tell the neighbors everything about his family. He thrived as a homeschooler, though, and began making friends with the neighborhood kids once spring rolled around and tee-ball started up. Sammy, meanwhile, was turning out to be brilliant, curious, and very strong-willed. The house admittedly had fewer hazards than the bunker did, but even the thorough baby-proofing John and Mary did wasn’t able to stop Sammy from prying off outlet covers, poking at gadgets until they did something, and (once) destroying a roll of film by taking it apart. The Saturday morning Henry came over to find Mary on the couch clutching her head while Sammy used her pots and pans for a drum kit in the kitchen to accompany his loud, tuneless singing and Dean raced through the house yelling “Mom, Mom, I wanna go see Aunt Dorothy!” made him glad not only that he was there to take them off her hands for a few hours... but also that he was only their grandfather and could give them back at the end of the day.
For his own part, Henry found having a whole house to himself more of an adjustment than he’d anticipated. The kids were still close by, of course, as were the angels, who came over often to continue their habit of sitting and talking for hours. Gabriel was more inclined to tell funny stories than to pass on lore, but Henry recorded even those-no telling what future Letters might get bored on bunker duty and need the diversion of Loki’s Greatest Pranks. And it was nearly impossible to remain isolated for long in such a small community, especially as a businessman. Still, it was... not hard, exactly, but odd to get used to living alone after all this time. On the other hand, though, it gave him the time and space to go back to the bunker every few weekends and finish the research he’d intended to do into the Letters’ history and secrets. Some surprised him; some disappointed him. But all made him glad he had survived to usher in a new generation of Letters.
There was only one end that he felt was left too loose. And the chance to tie it up came when, toward the end of April of 1981, Henry glanced away from Dean’s tee-ball game as the teams were switching in the middle of the ninth inning and saw a familiar couple sitting alone further up in the stands. He knew everyone else’s attention would be on the field, since the visiting team was ahead by only one run. So when the wife got up to go to the concession stand, Henry gave his apologies to John and went up to sit by the husband.
“Hi, Larry,” he said quietly.
Larry gasped. “Henry!”
“You’re looking well.”
Larry held up a hand, and Henry guided it to his face. Once he’d felt Henry’s features, Larry chuckled. “So are you.”
The first of Dean’s teammates to bat this inning hit a single.
Henry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Larry, tell me something. You’ve known we were in town for over a year-as small as Lebanon is, you have to have known. Why haven’t you tried to contact me?”
Larry sighed. “I... I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t think it was safe.”
“Ah, just like you didn’t think I needed to know why Cuthbert Sinclair was thrown out of the Letters?”
“It was none of your concern.”
The second batter singled.
Henry shook his head. “He was my mentor, my friend. When no one explained, I... I kept in touch with him. I had no idea he’d gone so far over the line. I mean, it’s not that I disagree; what he did was beyond the pale. I just wish someone had warned me.”
Larry’s ruined eyes widened. “You’ve been to....”
“I’m not going to tell you how I found it, but yeah, the kids and I lived there for about six years. Found Dotty Baum, by the way. She’s safely back in Oz now.”
The third batter also singled.
“We shouldn’t be discussing this here,” Larry hissed.
Henry snorted. “Abaddon’s dead. Has been for eight years.”
“What?”
“The bases are loaded,” the announcer stated for anyone who wasn’t paying attention. “Here comes Dean Winchester up to the plate. Will he be able to knock in a run?”
Dean squared up to the tee, got a line on the ball, pulled the bat back to his shoulder, and sent the ball sailing over the left field fence in fair territory-a grand slam. The crowd went wild, but soaring above the adult voices, Henry could clearly hear Sammy’s joyful squeal of “DEEEEEE!”
Then as Dean rounded the bases, someone put last winter’s smash hit by Kool & the Gang on the loudspeaker-Celebrate good times, COME ON!
“It’s a new era, my friend,” Henry said into Larry’s ear so as to be heard over the happy commotion. “Time to stop hiding and start living.” And with a friendly slap on Larry’s shoulder, he started down the bleachers to join his family’s jubilation.
The Beginning