Death Invents a Different Kind of Time, chapter 2 (SPN sumgen FIC)
Title: Death Invents a Different Kind of Time
Recipient: ravelqueen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None in Ch 1. A bit of violence in Ch 2.
Genre: AU. Henrys POV.
Summary: Henry gets a second chance. And it makes all the difference. But is it enough?
Author's Notes: So, this is my spin on ravelqueen’s prompt for the 2013 spn_summergen: Henry Winchester did not die in the past, but John and Mary still fell in love and had children. Sam grew up to follow his fathers footsteps into the men of letters while Dean learned hunting from Mary. But that doesn't mean Azazael and the Angels aren't still around...
I really like the character of Henry and once I read that particular prompt, this story just wouldn't leave me alone. There's this ripple effect going on, so there are some deliberate differences from canon as well as similarities to it. But since it's AU, it's my playground, right? :)
The Latin is from google translate, not mine. Also all medical/law studies bits are wiki'd and then twisted to fit my story so all mistakes are mine. Again, AU, I'm the queen, hee :)
The title was taken and tweaked a bit from a poem "I'm afraid of death" by Kathleen Ossip.
A *huge* Thank You to my betas, you know who you are, dudettes. *fistpumps*
---
Death Invents a Different Kind of Time
Chapter 2
February 2006
“Where is he?”
“Go screw yourself.”
“Wrong. Answer.” Dean tossed holy water on the “girls” face. The demon in her sizzled and screamed, her midnight black eyes staring at him with a promise of a slow, agonizing death once she’s free.
“Stop! Stop! I- I can’t… I can’t t-tell you.” Dean gave her another dose from the bucket and watched the demon twist and spit and scream. She was cursing him now, calling him every nasty name under the sun and a few new ones, but as Dean picked up the bucket again, raising his eyebrow expectantly, she snapped her mouth shut and continued to seethe in silence, her whole body trembling with hatred and fear.
Henry had never watched Dean perform an exorcism before. Hell, he had witnessed only one exorcism in his whole life. It had been a part of his Order's Tasks that needed to be completed before he was officially initiated into the Men of Letters. Be present when a demon is expelled. But that was a long time ago, when he was a young man still living in Normal.
Dean was impressive - Henry had to give him credit for that - and scary as hell. This was a part of Dean that he had never seen before. It was obviously effective when hunting but it still made Henry very uncomfortable.
What if he goes too far? There’s an innocent girl in there.
Sam’s girl.
-
Then
Sam had gone missing three months ago; on November 2nd. The same night Mary had called Henry about the fire. About John. Coincidence? His life had taught him there are no such things. Maybe Mary wasn’t supposed to remember that night of the fire until it wanted her to. The demon with the yellow eyes. But what did it all mean?
The call from Mary had kept him up most of the night, his brain too wired to sleep. And then the next day he had gotten another call from her, about Sam. And as anxiety twisted itself in tight, leaden knots in his stomach, Henry had a strange sensation of foreboding that this was, somehow, always meant to happen. But why?
Sam had been at the movies with his girl Beth and friend Brady the night he went missing. A late night B-Horror -flick Brady had insisted on them watching. Half way in, Sam had whispered to them “I’ll be right back.”, and disappeared through the door. He never came back.
On November 3rd Mary had gotten a call from Brady when Sam still hadn’t come home or gone to work, which had worried everyone who knew Sam and knew how diligent and loyal he was, how punctual. By afternoon they were all certain something bad had happened to him and by then, the news had already reached Mary, Henry and Dean.
They had taken the first flight out, arriving the next day, and Brady had met them at the airport. He told them that Beth had flown home, to Washington, not being able to handle Sam’s disappearance alone. Mary had muttered something not so nice, but Henry had spoken over her and remarked how good it is that Beth was with family at a time like this. Dean had been oddly silent through the whole exchange. Possibly too worried about Sam, Henry had surmised at the time. Brady assured them that Beth would return, once she was feeling better.
He took them to the theater right away, by Mary’s insistence. While Mary and Henry had questioned, borderline interrogated Brady about that night, Dean had done his sweep around the empty theater and the rest room area where Sam was last seen.
Brady had told them, that the staff at the theater saw Sam go into the restroom but they didn’t see him come out. There was a small window in the Men’s room; it could have been possible for Sam to fit through there, so they just assumed that that was how he had left, even if it was a bit strange.
"But why? Why would Sam leave through the window and not say anything to us? It just doesn't make any goddamn sense!"
As Dean returned, his expression even grimmer than before (which Henry had thought impossible until then), he had quietly shared with Mary and Henry that he'd found traces of sulfur on the window sill of the Men’s room. Mary had covered her mouth with her shaky hand, tears already pooling in her eyes as the grave reality had struck them all. Demons. Maybe even The Demon.
-
For the next three months Mary, Henry and Dean had searched Palo Alto through and through, and found nothing. No Sam. No demons. No clues.
Henry was nose deep in all the demon lore he could find and he was daily consulting the Men of Letters Archives, as well as visiting the local libraries and searching online. He was buried in books, articles and printouts, trying to find anything and everything that might help them find his grandson. It was slow work and slower progress.
Mary and Dean were immersed in Sam’s personal and academic life, trying to find everything they could about the boy, trying very hard to approach this situation like any normal case they'd had, but failing still. Sam wasn't just a case. Could never be just a case.
After several attempts at hacking, Dean had broken into Sam's laptop but the flaring hope he’d felt had quickly turned into disappointment once he found most of it filled with mundane school assignments, lecture notes, various law reviews and articles, and such. After a week, he finally found Sam’s personal diary of sorts. But it was more like a calendar than a journal: reminders of upcoming exams, dates with Beth and his friends, meetings with his political science professor among others, dates for a few charity events, but very few personal notes. Sam was a private guy, always had been, and it made the search much harder for them all.
As more and more days ticked by, they were all starting to fear the worst. That Sam would turn up dead somewhere. That Sam would never turn up at all; lost in the sea of the tens of thousands of people who go missing and are never found. Just another sad statistic. Henry couldn't imagine a fate worse. That thought struck a bit too close to home for him, although, he couldn't put his finger on why. It felt like a distant memory he should remember but time had taken its toll and his memory wasn’t what it used to be anymore. So he brushed it aside.
As February came along, they were still stuck. And Henry felt 10 years older.
They had been staying in Sam's and Beth's apartment but she was still in Washington with her family, She did call them every week though. Mary mostly refused to talk to her, so Henry had taken on her calls. Beth was always worried and inconsolable, inquiring if they had found anything, anything about Sam. She didn’t talk about coming back to Palo Alto and Henry never asked her about it, but Mary had said that the “heartless wench” should steer clear from her if she finally decided to show up, having not appreciated her running away in the first place. "I was so completely wrong about that girl, Henry. I thought she was stronger than this. Guess she fooled us all.”
Then one day Beth had called again and told Henry that she was coming over that same day, her flight leaving in 20 minutes, and she asked him to pick her up at the airport. To Henry’s surprise Dean had told him to agree to it, so Henry had. Giving his grandson a questioning look after the call, Dean had said nothing but opened Sam’s laptop for Henry to see. Sam had written e-mails that Dean had only recently gotten into and he had one of them open now. Henry felt uncomfortable, reading Sam’s personal e-mails, but desperate times and all that.
>----Original message----
>From: bradyisgr8@yahoo.com
>Date: 25.10.2005 10:19pm
>To: "Sam Winchester", [samwin83@aol.com]
>Topic: Re: Duuuuuuuuuuuude!
Hey man.
Talking about weird things happening...
Beth is off. I'm sure you've noticed too, right?
How she follows me around, calls me all the time? Did I tell you she stopped going to church? Shit, her MOTHER called me and told me, how weird is THAT?
She doesn't go out anymore, her friends think I'm not letting her, but I’ve never been like that! I don't know what's up with her these days. I'm going to have to talk to her about it, soon.
I'm just SO busy right now with school and work and she's not really helping with her stalking and clinging-
Henry stopped reading and slowly raised his gaze to meet Dean’s. The kid had a predator-like look in his eyes, a stubborn set to his jaw.
“Look, I’ve met her. Many times. And we’ve texted, a lot. I’d like to think I know her. And this girl, on this e-mail? Is nothing like the Beth I know. Hell, I’m dumbfounded how Sam couldn’t see it. But I do. Now, she’s coming over. I say we take precaution, okay? Just in case.”
Beth had arrived in the evening, and Henry met her at the airport as promised. On the ride over to her apartment he had engaged in normal small talk, a bit nervous, but hiding it pretty well. He had dodged her inquiries about Sam, only giving her vague ideas about their findings. Beth had seemed normal enough and greeted Mary and Dean once she entered the apartment. She’d started walking towards them, apologizing for being absent and all when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, just a few feet away from them. Dean had smirked and looked up at the ceiling, the girl following his gaze.
A Devils Trap.
In a flash her eyes morphed to midnight black. The smile on Dean’s face was both triumphant and unnerving as he leaned in closer and half whispered.
“Gotcha.”
-
Now
The demon was screaming again, the exorcism Dean had started working rather effectively, making her twist and pant as she raved against the unseen barrier.
“I’ll kill her!”
“Henry!” Dean ordered and Henry tossed more holy water on her, stopping whatever plans the demon had about hurting Beth. Dean continued reciting the exorcism as the demon writhed on the floor, steam rising out of Beth’s body like she was combusting from the inside. Henry prayed that the girl would survive this. This whole process, he knew it wasn’t hurting the human host, as long as there was no severe physical damage done prior to the body, but it still looked brutal.
Mary was standing beside the two men. Henry thought she looked more confident in the situation, and yet a bit too rigid and pale to completely be cool about all of this. She kept checking the front door, waiting for the cops, or worse, to arrive. This wasn’t exactly a private location.
“WHERE?” Dean yelled straight at Beth’s face as she was slamming and clawing against the invisible wall once more. “Last chance, freak. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine…”
“Stop it, stop it! COLD OAK! He’s in Cold Oak. With the others.” Beth was on her knees, heaving loudly with her head hanging low; her messy and soaked hair dripping water on her already drenched jeans. Her body was shaking and twitching more now. Dean had finally broken its resolve.
Henry wasn’t surprised. When Dean puts his mind to something, he gets results, one way or another. His stubbornness and single mindedness reminded Henry of John; the way his eyes used to glaze over with determination as he clenched his jaw and stared at Henry, his whole demeanor oozing “My way or the highway”. Dean was all that, chip of the old block straight to the bone. It wasn’t scary when John did it though; Dean was bringing it to a whole new level.
“Cold Oak? Where’s- Wait. Others, what others?” Dean had flipped his journal shut and was now staring at the demon, angry and puzzled.
“Christ, you don’t know anything, do you? Kids. Boys and girls. All different, like Sam. All visited by him in their infancy because someone made a deal.” The demon gave a long stare at Henry and Mary figuring it was one of them. Mary gave herself away when she closed her eyes, anguish and regret written all over her face.
"Him? You mean the Demon with the yellow eyes?" Dean was kneeling next to her now, staring with malice.
The demon glared at him, but eventually nodded and continued. “They were all taken to Cold Oak, South Dakota.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Outta my pay grade. I just do what I’m told.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I. Don’t. Know. Moron. He doesn’t like to share. It’s Need To Know, at best. I was sent here 4 months ago, to watch Sam, to send word about his activities, his routines. Then he was taken and I got orders to make sure the trail stayed cold.”
“But Sam is alive? You’re sure about it?” Mary piped in. The demon sighed in frustration, the obvious didn’t-we-go-through-this-already coming out loud and clear.
“Didn’t you hear me, mommy dearest? They are all alive. He needs them alive. He didn’t choose them for nothing. They have all been watched, practically since they were born. He wanted them safe and sound until the day he needed them. That day is here.” The demon seemed proud at that, a bit zealous even.
“You can’t save little Sammy. You can’t save any of them.”
Henry felt cold dread trickle down his spine at the words, having a tough time keeping his cool. But Dean was all bravado and brass and flipped open his journal again.
“Watch me. Any last words?”
“What? Wait. You said you’d let me go! You said-“
“I lied, you black eyed sonofabitch.”
Dean recited the rest of the exorcism and the demon poured out of Beth in a big, black pillar of smoke, spiraling upwards and vanishing as the air sizzled and crackled around it. There was a strong smell of smoke and sulfur and blood, and then it was gone just as quick.
Beth’s body slumped to the ground and Mary rushed to her side, brushing her hair away from her face and feeling for a pulse.
“She’s alive. Beth? Honey?” Mary stroked her hair as she softly spoke in her ear. She searched her face for some reaction, but there wasn’t any. “Dean, help me. Let’s get her on the bed.”
Mary and Dean carried Beth to her bed and Mary stayed with her as Dean returned to Henry.
“What now? South Dakota is over 2500 miles away!” Dean looked freaked out, his earlier bravado gone in an instant, replaced by worry for his brother.
Mary came back from the bedroom. “She’s asleep. I’ll call Brady to come and be with her.”
Dean nodded. “I’m going to book us a flight, the next one out-“
“Wait. No. It will take too much time. I, I know of a spell.” Henry said quickly, and got out his cell phone. “I’ll call the Order and get the details and ingredients.”
“Okay, you do that, Henry. We need weapons since we couldn’t bring any on the plane. Dean, do you know if Sam had any here, hidden?”
“I know he did. I’ll find them.”
-
Kah-nee-maa... Vee-gah-maa.
Kah-nee-maa... Vee-gah-maa.
Goh-pah.
They were all standing in a muddy street. It was raining and it soon soaked them all through. Henry looked around; it was an abandoned, old town: worn, rickety houses surrounded them, some of them having collapsed against each other. The streets were sludgy and slick, with little puddles and streams crisscrossing in every direction.
“SAM!” Mary yelled before Henry or Dean could stop her. The raw desperation was obvious in her voice.
“Shh, Mary. We don’t know what’s out here.” Henry took her by the arm and pulled her closer and away from the street, to a nearby house. They needed to get out of the rain. Dean followed them, Sam’s gun in hand at the ready.
The house was as “charming” as the rest. An old, moldy wooden house with the roof half gone and the walls barely upright. The air was damp and smelled of rot and the floorboards were creaking and bending under their steps. Still it was better than out there, in the rain, exposed.
“So, we’re here. What now?” Dean was a bit pale and trembling, the spell had taken its toll on him, on all of them. Mary was leaning against the grimy wall, breathing heavily with her eyes closed.
The side effects are…unpleasant, Henry. I wish there was another way.
Henry had never used the spell before and now he understood why his brothers had advised against it: he felt like his insides were boiling and his vision was blurry, with a sharp pain throbbing behind his eyes. Being in his seventies didn't help him either, his current physique being more of a constant hindrance to his everyday life. An old man with shaky hands and thick glasses to help with his budding cataract wasn't much of a hero these days.
But family came first, always. And Henry still had some fight left in him.
The rain got worse outside, and inside, thanks to the faulty roof. It pounded hard against the floor, huge drops of water plummeting like bullets, making the already moist floor even more unstable.
“We need to find Sam. Get him out of here. And the others that the demon spoke of. We have to help them if we can.” Henry was looking out the grimy window, raindrops flowing like tears down the glass. He felt a bit better now, more like himself as the effects of the spell wore off.
“We each take a house, search room by room. Be quick, be quiet. We meet back here in 15 minutes and regroup. If a-“
Lightning struck ground, close, followed by a loud roar of thunder. The noise was booming, the windows vibrated with the sound. Underneath the thundering roars came a high pitched scream, resounding through the air. A woman was screaming somewhere outside and it was a raw, dreadful sound until it suddenly stopped.
Henry, Mary and Dean stood still for a few seconds, momentarily paralyzed, before Dean jumped into action and ran outside, gun aimed ahead. Henry was about to shout a warning to him but then Mary rushed after him with her own gun in hand and he thought it best just to follow them.
-
The sky was bright yellow and white flashes of lightning kept beating against it, making the ghost town flicker black and white and gray, draining out the last of the colors with its harrowing cracks.
They were all running down the street, along the flooding, slippery road that led them to a crossroad after a few blocks. Dean, who was taking the lead, had already turned left and continued on, Mary following at his heels, when Henry arrived at the junction, panting heavily and mostly blinded by the heavy rain. He turned left also but was soon stopped in his tracks when he nearly bumped into Dean’s still form.
There was a group of people standing in front of them, in the middle of the street, in a circle. Someone was lying in the center of it, unmoving. The rain slowed down to a trickle and it was easier to see now: Henry could see Sam there, towering over everyone else. He and the others hadn’t noticed them yet.
“SAM!” Mary called out to her son, again. Henry closed his eyes in frustration; Dean's shush coming just a second too late. There goes the element of surprise. She rushed forward towards her son, but Dean kept her from going too far. The situation looked ominous enough.
“Please. Don’t be shy.” They heard a low voice behind them and suddenly they were being pulled towards the circle by an invisible force. Sam still wasn’t looking at them, even though they arrived just outside of the circle, less than 3 feet away from him.
“Perfect timing, really. We needed more... target practice.” The voice was coming in front of them now. Just behind Sam.
Mary gasped. “No…”
“Hi honey. Did you miss me?”
Henry recognized that voice but it still took him a second to connect the dots. It couldn’t be.
Dean was shaking now, from shock, or maybe from anger. He looked like someone was burning his mother alive in front of him. Only not his mother…
John Winchester stepped out from behind his still unmoving youngest son. His eyes were shining bright yellow, like the ominous sky above and he had a huge, victorious grin on his face.
“Dad. Son.” He slightly nodded his head towards Henry and Dean. They both stared at him in horror, shocked speechless.
“What? No family hug? No I’m so glad you’re alive?” He raised his pitch for the last part and looked at Mary, mocking her. Tears were streaming down Mary’s face; she looked devastated and furious all at once.
“Let him go. NOW!”
“Oh, but I like it in here. It’s all warm and homey. John-boy here has been my puppet for a looong time.”
“But…we buried his body-“
“Correction. You buried a body. Well, parts of a body. Some pathetic janitor I grabbed on the way. Just a means to an end, baby. To the grand prize. Big John.” He looked pleased with himself, opening his arms like he was ready for a big familial embrace.
"Been keeping tabs on my boy Sam here, ever since. I even got my own place at Stanford, became one of his political professors. Oh, the long talks we had! He sure had issues with you.
The last remark was addressed to Dean who visibly flinched but took a quick few steps towards John before he was stopped, paralyzed by the unseen force.
“A-a-aa. I’m still leading this magical mystery tour, Deano. You don’t move unless I tell you to. Or he does.” John nodded at Sam, still transfixed and staring ahead, at the figure lying on the ground. It was a woman and her body was so badly bent and twisted, she couldn’t possibly be alive anymore.
“Sam? Are you in there?” Dean called to his brother, panic in his voice.
“Oh, he’s in there. He’s all there. Finally rising to his full potential, this one.” John patted Sam on the shoulder and smiled encouragingly. Sam turned his head and replied in kind, smiling lovingly at his father, still ignoring anyone else.
“Sam? HEY!” Dean bellowed, pissed now. Sam sighed and turned his head towards his brother. His eyes were black like midnight sun.
“Let him go, you sonofa-“
“Hold on, hold on! This is still Sam. No demon in him or anything! Pure Sammy goodness.” John interrupted with a sick kind of sincerity and pride in his tone and Sam beamed at the praise.
Henry felt his insides twisting into a big knot. Sam was looking at them, all of them, like they didn’t matter. Like they weren’t his family. “Sam, please…”
“Begging? So soon? There will be plenty of time for that later, old man. Show them what you can do, son.” John smirked and winked at their audience.
Sam eerily echoed John’s grin and turned towards his circle of friends, spreading his hands, palms open like John had before. All the people in the circle started to scream, loud. Sam closed his palms into fists and the writhing bodies started to snap and bend into unnatural positions. The screaming turned to wails and wet gurgles as the bodies distorted themselves to death. It took some time.
Henry, Mary and Dean all shouted, pleaded for Sam to stop but he just kept on turning his hands, squeezing his fists and smiling, smiling the whole time. By the time all of the bodies lay on the ground, Mary was crying again; her sobs making her whole body tremble, her shaky hand covering her mouth in horror.
Dean just stood there, defeated, with tears streaming down his face as he looked at his brother. Henry himself just turned to the side and threw up on the mushy muddy ground, feeling like he was going to pass out any second now.
“Impressive, right? And I didn’t even teach him that! This kid’s got a learning curve even I didn’t think was possible! Way to go, Sammy!” John was clapping now as Sam just stood there and looked at his handy work, more proud than ever. He turned to look at John again and his face was filled with adoration and love. Henry felt like throwing up again.
“What…what did you do to him?” Dean asked, devastated, tears still running down his cheeks. He was pale and feeble as he just stood there, swaying and shaking in the drizzling rain.
“Who? Me? Oh, nothing much. I can’t really take all the credit… Well, actually I can. You see, I gave him a choice. Live or die. He picked the right one as you can see. In order to live, he had to crush my army. To kill me, he said. But hey, semantics. As he was plowing through my minions, ripping them to shreds with his Jedi might, he was also breaking whole new walls in his head, pulling all the right levers.” John was circling Sam as he spoke, sizing him up with admiration and arrogance. He stopped when he was in front of his “audience” again and leveled Henry with a look that reminded him of his John, a look of stubborn resolve. But his John was gone.
“When he was done, he finally saw what I had to offer. And what did you say to me, Sam?” John kept his eyes on his captives but tipped his head slightly towards his youngest.
“I said, thank you.”
“Damn straight you did. We’re going to make something beautiful together, Sammy. You and me, son. We are going to make them burn. The humanity has lost and we will pick it clean, strip it to the bone. For my Father.” John last words were whispered like a prayer, he closed his eyes in delight and sighed with satisfaction.
Then he snapped his eyes open, the eerie, yellow glow shining brighter than before as he looked at all of them with contemplation. “But first, the final… challenge.”
Sam was standing next to John, watching them, his black eyes shining against the sickly lit yellow sky like two black holes. The air around them all crackled with electricity, the pungent smell of sulfur stifling everything else. Sam turned to look at John expectantly.
“I want you to kill this…”family” of ours, Sam. Be creative and please… take your time.”
John was elated as Sam didn’t hesitate for a second and spread his hands once more.
Henry started to scream as he felt his bones-
-
“Was it better this time around?”
Henry was standing in an empty, old warehouse. He felt disoriented and thin somehow, yet everything had a strange kind of clarity.
There was a woman standing next to him, looking down at his feet. She was smiling, but there was a sadness to it. Henry followed her gaze and saw his own dead body lying there, his dead eyes staring back at him.
That was… He was…
“Henry Winchester.”, she said softly and he looked at her.
“You… I know you…” Henry said, staring at her strangely familiar face. She moved closer to him and took his hand in hers: she was warm and slightly pulsed against his translucent like form.
As he looked deep into her eyes it all came back to him, a rush of vivid memories of a whole lifetime. He felt faint and out of breath.
“But... it wasn’t real? Was it?”
“It was real to you, Henry. But... it was never meant to be.” She looked sad and apologetic at the statement.
“Why?”
“You saw why. Because all the lives you would have lived, all the choices you would’ve made, all the mistakes…ripples in the ocean, Henry. None of them would lead us here, today. But they would all lead you there, to that destruction. To the end. ”
“But why do it if-if-“
“Because a promise was made, a long time ago. And I am a woman of my word.” She looked proud and went on.
“You needed to see, Henry. You needed to see that you didn’t give your life in vain. That what you did here, in this time, had a purpose. You might be the last of your kind but the Legacy lives on in your blood. They will go on and live because of you. They have made great things because of you. Saved countless people. Saved the world.”
She was watching as Sam and Dean gently picked up Henry’s body and quietly carried it out of the warehouse. She watched after them a long while after they had disappeared through the door.
“And all they did, they did for love. They didn’t need secret handshakes and rituals, Henry. There was no need for oaths and spells and endless halls of knowledge. They have conviction far greater that your Order could ever achieve. And it’s all because of you. You needed to see that, before you go on. It saved the world once and it will again. Time after time. Ripples in the ocean that you set in motion, a long time ago.”
Henry felt that clarity again. And something else: his purpose. And he saw her.
“You are Athena. Our guardian. Our goddess. The one we honor in our oaths and rituals.”
She didn’t say anything, just kept looking at Henry with that sad smile, her eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages and with sympathy, understanding.
“But you said I could make a difference, make things right…”
“Because you already had. You just didn’t see it. And you had to. Because you are the last one. Your Order ends here, tonight, and so does our bond that has lasted for centuries. I long for my home, the rest of my family is gone. I am the last one now. And this was my last deed. My last promise. To you, Henry. And that makes you the most important one of all. I had to make it right.”
Her whole body was pulsing now: of light, of energy, of warmth and comfort. Henry had to avert his gaze, the light was too bright to look at but he could still hear her voice, streaming through his mind like a sun on cloudless day, encompassing everything in its glow.
You always made the right choice. Remember that. She is waiting.
Then she was gone. And so was he. He wasn’t standing in the warehouse anymore. Henry was standing under his old maple tree, it was early fall and the leaves were starting to turn yellow, red, orange, the air starting to feel slightly colder now, the faint aroma of the tree filling him with warm and aching memories of his wife. The love of his life.
And then he heard it, soaring with the wind, rustling in the leaves; heard her familiar laughter, resounding through time and space, coming from their house. And he followed her home.
-End-
Recipient: ravelqueen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None in Ch 1. A bit of violence in Ch 2.
Genre: AU. Henrys POV.
Summary: Henry gets a second chance. And it makes all the difference. But is it enough?
Author's Notes: So, this is my spin on ravelqueen’s prompt for the 2013 spn_summergen: Henry Winchester did not die in the past, but John and Mary still fell in love and had children. Sam grew up to follow his fathers footsteps into the men of letters while Dean learned hunting from Mary. But that doesn't mean Azazael and the Angels aren't still around...
I really like the character of Henry and once I read that particular prompt, this story just wouldn't leave me alone. There's this ripple effect going on, so there are some deliberate differences from canon as well as similarities to it. But since it's AU, it's my playground, right? :)
The Latin is from google translate, not mine. Also all medical/law studies bits are wiki'd and then twisted to fit my story so all mistakes are mine. Again, AU, I'm the queen, hee :)
The title was taken and tweaked a bit from a poem "I'm afraid of death" by Kathleen Ossip.
A *huge* Thank You to my betas, you know who you are, dudettes. *fistpumps*
---
Death Invents a Different Kind of Time
Chapter 2
February 2006
“Where is he?”
“Go screw yourself.”
“Wrong. Answer.” Dean tossed holy water on the “girls” face. The demon in her sizzled and screamed, her midnight black eyes staring at him with a promise of a slow, agonizing death once she’s free.
“Stop! Stop! I- I can’t… I can’t t-tell you.” Dean gave her another dose from the bucket and watched the demon twist and spit and scream. She was cursing him now, calling him every nasty name under the sun and a few new ones, but as Dean picked up the bucket again, raising his eyebrow expectantly, she snapped her mouth shut and continued to seethe in silence, her whole body trembling with hatred and fear.
Henry had never watched Dean perform an exorcism before. Hell, he had witnessed only one exorcism in his whole life. It had been a part of his Order's Tasks that needed to be completed before he was officially initiated into the Men of Letters. Be present when a demon is expelled. But that was a long time ago, when he was a young man still living in Normal.
Dean was impressive - Henry had to give him credit for that - and scary as hell. This was a part of Dean that he had never seen before. It was obviously effective when hunting but it still made Henry very uncomfortable.
What if he goes too far? There’s an innocent girl in there.
Sam’s girl.
-
Then
Sam had gone missing three months ago; on November 2nd. The same night Mary had called Henry about the fire. About John. Coincidence? His life had taught him there are no such things. Maybe Mary wasn’t supposed to remember that night of the fire until it wanted her to. The demon with the yellow eyes. But what did it all mean?
The call from Mary had kept him up most of the night, his brain too wired to sleep. And then the next day he had gotten another call from her, about Sam. And as anxiety twisted itself in tight, leaden knots in his stomach, Henry had a strange sensation of foreboding that this was, somehow, always meant to happen. But why?
Sam had been at the movies with his girl Beth and friend Brady the night he went missing. A late night B-Horror -flick Brady had insisted on them watching. Half way in, Sam had whispered to them “I’ll be right back.”, and disappeared through the door. He never came back.
On November 3rd Mary had gotten a call from Brady when Sam still hadn’t come home or gone to work, which had worried everyone who knew Sam and knew how diligent and loyal he was, how punctual. By afternoon they were all certain something bad had happened to him and by then, the news had already reached Mary, Henry and Dean.
They had taken the first flight out, arriving the next day, and Brady had met them at the airport. He told them that Beth had flown home, to Washington, not being able to handle Sam’s disappearance alone. Mary had muttered something not so nice, but Henry had spoken over her and remarked how good it is that Beth was with family at a time like this. Dean had been oddly silent through the whole exchange. Possibly too worried about Sam, Henry had surmised at the time. Brady assured them that Beth would return, once she was feeling better.
He took them to the theater right away, by Mary’s insistence. While Mary and Henry had questioned, borderline interrogated Brady about that night, Dean had done his sweep around the empty theater and the rest room area where Sam was last seen.
Brady had told them, that the staff at the theater saw Sam go into the restroom but they didn’t see him come out. There was a small window in the Men’s room; it could have been possible for Sam to fit through there, so they just assumed that that was how he had left, even if it was a bit strange.
"But why? Why would Sam leave through the window and not say anything to us? It just doesn't make any goddamn sense!"
As Dean returned, his expression even grimmer than before (which Henry had thought impossible until then), he had quietly shared with Mary and Henry that he'd found traces of sulfur on the window sill of the Men’s room. Mary had covered her mouth with her shaky hand, tears already pooling in her eyes as the grave reality had struck them all. Demons. Maybe even The Demon.
-
For the next three months Mary, Henry and Dean had searched Palo Alto through and through, and found nothing. No Sam. No demons. No clues.
Henry was nose deep in all the demon lore he could find and he was daily consulting the Men of Letters Archives, as well as visiting the local libraries and searching online. He was buried in books, articles and printouts, trying to find anything and everything that might help them find his grandson. It was slow work and slower progress.
Mary and Dean were immersed in Sam’s personal and academic life, trying to find everything they could about the boy, trying very hard to approach this situation like any normal case they'd had, but failing still. Sam wasn't just a case. Could never be just a case.
After several attempts at hacking, Dean had broken into Sam's laptop but the flaring hope he’d felt had quickly turned into disappointment once he found most of it filled with mundane school assignments, lecture notes, various law reviews and articles, and such. After a week, he finally found Sam’s personal diary of sorts. But it was more like a calendar than a journal: reminders of upcoming exams, dates with Beth and his friends, meetings with his political science professor among others, dates for a few charity events, but very few personal notes. Sam was a private guy, always had been, and it made the search much harder for them all.
As more and more days ticked by, they were all starting to fear the worst. That Sam would turn up dead somewhere. That Sam would never turn up at all; lost in the sea of the tens of thousands of people who go missing and are never found. Just another sad statistic. Henry couldn't imagine a fate worse. That thought struck a bit too close to home for him, although, he couldn't put his finger on why. It felt like a distant memory he should remember but time had taken its toll and his memory wasn’t what it used to be anymore. So he brushed it aside.
As February came along, they were still stuck. And Henry felt 10 years older.
They had been staying in Sam's and Beth's apartment but she was still in Washington with her family, She did call them every week though. Mary mostly refused to talk to her, so Henry had taken on her calls. Beth was always worried and inconsolable, inquiring if they had found anything, anything about Sam. She didn’t talk about coming back to Palo Alto and Henry never asked her about it, but Mary had said that the “heartless wench” should steer clear from her if she finally decided to show up, having not appreciated her running away in the first place. "I was so completely wrong about that girl, Henry. I thought she was stronger than this. Guess she fooled us all.”
Then one day Beth had called again and told Henry that she was coming over that same day, her flight leaving in 20 minutes, and she asked him to pick her up at the airport. To Henry’s surprise Dean had told him to agree to it, so Henry had. Giving his grandson a questioning look after the call, Dean had said nothing but opened Sam’s laptop for Henry to see. Sam had written e-mails that Dean had only recently gotten into and he had one of them open now. Henry felt uncomfortable, reading Sam’s personal e-mails, but desperate times and all that.
>----Original message----
>From: bradyisgr8@yahoo.com
>Date: 25.10.2005 10:19pm
>To: "Sam Winchester", [samwin83@aol.com]
>Topic: Re: Duuuuuuuuuuuude!
Hey man.
Talking about weird things happening...
Beth is off. I'm sure you've noticed too, right?
How she follows me around, calls me all the time? Did I tell you she stopped going to church? Shit, her MOTHER called me and told me, how weird is THAT?
She doesn't go out anymore, her friends think I'm not letting her, but I’ve never been like that! I don't know what's up with her these days. I'm going to have to talk to her about it, soon.
I'm just SO busy right now with school and work and she's not really helping with her stalking and clinging-
Henry stopped reading and slowly raised his gaze to meet Dean’s. The kid had a predator-like look in his eyes, a stubborn set to his jaw.
“Look, I’ve met her. Many times. And we’ve texted, a lot. I’d like to think I know her. And this girl, on this e-mail? Is nothing like the Beth I know. Hell, I’m dumbfounded how Sam couldn’t see it. But I do. Now, she’s coming over. I say we take precaution, okay? Just in case.”
Beth had arrived in the evening, and Henry met her at the airport as promised. On the ride over to her apartment he had engaged in normal small talk, a bit nervous, but hiding it pretty well. He had dodged her inquiries about Sam, only giving her vague ideas about their findings. Beth had seemed normal enough and greeted Mary and Dean once she entered the apartment. She’d started walking towards them, apologizing for being absent and all when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, just a few feet away from them. Dean had smirked and looked up at the ceiling, the girl following his gaze.
A Devils Trap.
In a flash her eyes morphed to midnight black. The smile on Dean’s face was both triumphant and unnerving as he leaned in closer and half whispered.
“Gotcha.”
-
Now
The demon was screaming again, the exorcism Dean had started working rather effectively, making her twist and pant as she raved against the unseen barrier.
“I’ll kill her!”
“Henry!” Dean ordered and Henry tossed more holy water on her, stopping whatever plans the demon had about hurting Beth. Dean continued reciting the exorcism as the demon writhed on the floor, steam rising out of Beth’s body like she was combusting from the inside. Henry prayed that the girl would survive this. This whole process, he knew it wasn’t hurting the human host, as long as there was no severe physical damage done prior to the body, but it still looked brutal.
Mary was standing beside the two men. Henry thought she looked more confident in the situation, and yet a bit too rigid and pale to completely be cool about all of this. She kept checking the front door, waiting for the cops, or worse, to arrive. This wasn’t exactly a private location.
“WHERE?” Dean yelled straight at Beth’s face as she was slamming and clawing against the invisible wall once more. “Last chance, freak. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine…”
“Stop it, stop it! COLD OAK! He’s in Cold Oak. With the others.” Beth was on her knees, heaving loudly with her head hanging low; her messy and soaked hair dripping water on her already drenched jeans. Her body was shaking and twitching more now. Dean had finally broken its resolve.
Henry wasn’t surprised. When Dean puts his mind to something, he gets results, one way or another. His stubbornness and single mindedness reminded Henry of John; the way his eyes used to glaze over with determination as he clenched his jaw and stared at Henry, his whole demeanor oozing “My way or the highway”. Dean was all that, chip of the old block straight to the bone. It wasn’t scary when John did it though; Dean was bringing it to a whole new level.
“Cold Oak? Where’s- Wait. Others, what others?” Dean had flipped his journal shut and was now staring at the demon, angry and puzzled.
“Christ, you don’t know anything, do you? Kids. Boys and girls. All different, like Sam. All visited by him in their infancy because someone made a deal.” The demon gave a long stare at Henry and Mary figuring it was one of them. Mary gave herself away when she closed her eyes, anguish and regret written all over her face.
"Him? You mean the Demon with the yellow eyes?" Dean was kneeling next to her now, staring with malice.
The demon glared at him, but eventually nodded and continued. “They were all taken to Cold Oak, South Dakota.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Outta my pay grade. I just do what I’m told.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I. Don’t. Know. Moron. He doesn’t like to share. It’s Need To Know, at best. I was sent here 4 months ago, to watch Sam, to send word about his activities, his routines. Then he was taken and I got orders to make sure the trail stayed cold.”
“But Sam is alive? You’re sure about it?” Mary piped in. The demon sighed in frustration, the obvious didn’t-we-go-through-this-already coming out loud and clear.
“Didn’t you hear me, mommy dearest? They are all alive. He needs them alive. He didn’t choose them for nothing. They have all been watched, practically since they were born. He wanted them safe and sound until the day he needed them. That day is here.” The demon seemed proud at that, a bit zealous even.
“You can’t save little Sammy. You can’t save any of them.”
Henry felt cold dread trickle down his spine at the words, having a tough time keeping his cool. But Dean was all bravado and brass and flipped open his journal again.
“Watch me. Any last words?”
“What? Wait. You said you’d let me go! You said-“
“I lied, you black eyed sonofabitch.”
Dean recited the rest of the exorcism and the demon poured out of Beth in a big, black pillar of smoke, spiraling upwards and vanishing as the air sizzled and crackled around it. There was a strong smell of smoke and sulfur and blood, and then it was gone just as quick.
Beth’s body slumped to the ground and Mary rushed to her side, brushing her hair away from her face and feeling for a pulse.
“She’s alive. Beth? Honey?” Mary stroked her hair as she softly spoke in her ear. She searched her face for some reaction, but there wasn’t any. “Dean, help me. Let’s get her on the bed.”
Mary and Dean carried Beth to her bed and Mary stayed with her as Dean returned to Henry.
“What now? South Dakota is over 2500 miles away!” Dean looked freaked out, his earlier bravado gone in an instant, replaced by worry for his brother.
Mary came back from the bedroom. “She’s asleep. I’ll call Brady to come and be with her.”
Dean nodded. “I’m going to book us a flight, the next one out-“
“Wait. No. It will take too much time. I, I know of a spell.” Henry said quickly, and got out his cell phone. “I’ll call the Order and get the details and ingredients.”
“Okay, you do that, Henry. We need weapons since we couldn’t bring any on the plane. Dean, do you know if Sam had any here, hidden?”
“I know he did. I’ll find them.”
-
Kah-nee-maa... Vee-gah-maa.
Kah-nee-maa... Vee-gah-maa.
Goh-pah.
They were all standing in a muddy street. It was raining and it soon soaked them all through. Henry looked around; it was an abandoned, old town: worn, rickety houses surrounded them, some of them having collapsed against each other. The streets were sludgy and slick, with little puddles and streams crisscrossing in every direction.
“SAM!” Mary yelled before Henry or Dean could stop her. The raw desperation was obvious in her voice.
“Shh, Mary. We don’t know what’s out here.” Henry took her by the arm and pulled her closer and away from the street, to a nearby house. They needed to get out of the rain. Dean followed them, Sam’s gun in hand at the ready.
The house was as “charming” as the rest. An old, moldy wooden house with the roof half gone and the walls barely upright. The air was damp and smelled of rot and the floorboards were creaking and bending under their steps. Still it was better than out there, in the rain, exposed.
“So, we’re here. What now?” Dean was a bit pale and trembling, the spell had taken its toll on him, on all of them. Mary was leaning against the grimy wall, breathing heavily with her eyes closed.
The side effects are…unpleasant, Henry. I wish there was another way.
Henry had never used the spell before and now he understood why his brothers had advised against it: he felt like his insides were boiling and his vision was blurry, with a sharp pain throbbing behind his eyes. Being in his seventies didn't help him either, his current physique being more of a constant hindrance to his everyday life. An old man with shaky hands and thick glasses to help with his budding cataract wasn't much of a hero these days.
But family came first, always. And Henry still had some fight left in him.
The rain got worse outside, and inside, thanks to the faulty roof. It pounded hard against the floor, huge drops of water plummeting like bullets, making the already moist floor even more unstable.
“We need to find Sam. Get him out of here. And the others that the demon spoke of. We have to help them if we can.” Henry was looking out the grimy window, raindrops flowing like tears down the glass. He felt a bit better now, more like himself as the effects of the spell wore off.
“We each take a house, search room by room. Be quick, be quiet. We meet back here in 15 minutes and regroup. If a-“
Lightning struck ground, close, followed by a loud roar of thunder. The noise was booming, the windows vibrated with the sound. Underneath the thundering roars came a high pitched scream, resounding through the air. A woman was screaming somewhere outside and it was a raw, dreadful sound until it suddenly stopped.
Henry, Mary and Dean stood still for a few seconds, momentarily paralyzed, before Dean jumped into action and ran outside, gun aimed ahead. Henry was about to shout a warning to him but then Mary rushed after him with her own gun in hand and he thought it best just to follow them.
-
The sky was bright yellow and white flashes of lightning kept beating against it, making the ghost town flicker black and white and gray, draining out the last of the colors with its harrowing cracks.
They were all running down the street, along the flooding, slippery road that led them to a crossroad after a few blocks. Dean, who was taking the lead, had already turned left and continued on, Mary following at his heels, when Henry arrived at the junction, panting heavily and mostly blinded by the heavy rain. He turned left also but was soon stopped in his tracks when he nearly bumped into Dean’s still form.
There was a group of people standing in front of them, in the middle of the street, in a circle. Someone was lying in the center of it, unmoving. The rain slowed down to a trickle and it was easier to see now: Henry could see Sam there, towering over everyone else. He and the others hadn’t noticed them yet.
“SAM!” Mary called out to her son, again. Henry closed his eyes in frustration; Dean's shush coming just a second too late. There goes the element of surprise. She rushed forward towards her son, but Dean kept her from going too far. The situation looked ominous enough.
“Please. Don’t be shy.” They heard a low voice behind them and suddenly they were being pulled towards the circle by an invisible force. Sam still wasn’t looking at them, even though they arrived just outside of the circle, less than 3 feet away from him.
“Perfect timing, really. We needed more... target practice.” The voice was coming in front of them now. Just behind Sam.
Mary gasped. “No…”
“Hi honey. Did you miss me?”
Henry recognized that voice but it still took him a second to connect the dots. It couldn’t be.
Dean was shaking now, from shock, or maybe from anger. He looked like someone was burning his mother alive in front of him. Only not his mother…
John Winchester stepped out from behind his still unmoving youngest son. His eyes were shining bright yellow, like the ominous sky above and he had a huge, victorious grin on his face.
“Dad. Son.” He slightly nodded his head towards Henry and Dean. They both stared at him in horror, shocked speechless.
“What? No family hug? No I’m so glad you’re alive?” He raised his pitch for the last part and looked at Mary, mocking her. Tears were streaming down Mary’s face; she looked devastated and furious all at once.
“Let him go. NOW!”
“Oh, but I like it in here. It’s all warm and homey. John-boy here has been my puppet for a looong time.”
“But…we buried his body-“
“Correction. You buried a body. Well, parts of a body. Some pathetic janitor I grabbed on the way. Just a means to an end, baby. To the grand prize. Big John.” He looked pleased with himself, opening his arms like he was ready for a big familial embrace.
"Been keeping tabs on my boy Sam here, ever since. I even got my own place at Stanford, became one of his political professors. Oh, the long talks we had! He sure had issues with you.
The last remark was addressed to Dean who visibly flinched but took a quick few steps towards John before he was stopped, paralyzed by the unseen force.
“A-a-aa. I’m still leading this magical mystery tour, Deano. You don’t move unless I tell you to. Or he does.” John nodded at Sam, still transfixed and staring ahead, at the figure lying on the ground. It was a woman and her body was so badly bent and twisted, she couldn’t possibly be alive anymore.
“Sam? Are you in there?” Dean called to his brother, panic in his voice.
“Oh, he’s in there. He’s all there. Finally rising to his full potential, this one.” John patted Sam on the shoulder and smiled encouragingly. Sam turned his head and replied in kind, smiling lovingly at his father, still ignoring anyone else.
“Sam? HEY!” Dean bellowed, pissed now. Sam sighed and turned his head towards his brother. His eyes were black like midnight sun.
“Let him go, you sonofa-“
“Hold on, hold on! This is still Sam. No demon in him or anything! Pure Sammy goodness.” John interrupted with a sick kind of sincerity and pride in his tone and Sam beamed at the praise.
Henry felt his insides twisting into a big knot. Sam was looking at them, all of them, like they didn’t matter. Like they weren’t his family. “Sam, please…”
“Begging? So soon? There will be plenty of time for that later, old man. Show them what you can do, son.” John smirked and winked at their audience.
Sam eerily echoed John’s grin and turned towards his circle of friends, spreading his hands, palms open like John had before. All the people in the circle started to scream, loud. Sam closed his palms into fists and the writhing bodies started to snap and bend into unnatural positions. The screaming turned to wails and wet gurgles as the bodies distorted themselves to death. It took some time.
Henry, Mary and Dean all shouted, pleaded for Sam to stop but he just kept on turning his hands, squeezing his fists and smiling, smiling the whole time. By the time all of the bodies lay on the ground, Mary was crying again; her sobs making her whole body tremble, her shaky hand covering her mouth in horror.
Dean just stood there, defeated, with tears streaming down his face as he looked at his brother. Henry himself just turned to the side and threw up on the mushy muddy ground, feeling like he was going to pass out any second now.
“Impressive, right? And I didn’t even teach him that! This kid’s got a learning curve even I didn’t think was possible! Way to go, Sammy!” John was clapping now as Sam just stood there and looked at his handy work, more proud than ever. He turned to look at John again and his face was filled with adoration and love. Henry felt like throwing up again.
“What…what did you do to him?” Dean asked, devastated, tears still running down his cheeks. He was pale and feeble as he just stood there, swaying and shaking in the drizzling rain.
“Who? Me? Oh, nothing much. I can’t really take all the credit… Well, actually I can. You see, I gave him a choice. Live or die. He picked the right one as you can see. In order to live, he had to crush my army. To kill me, he said. But hey, semantics. As he was plowing through my minions, ripping them to shreds with his Jedi might, he was also breaking whole new walls in his head, pulling all the right levers.” John was circling Sam as he spoke, sizing him up with admiration and arrogance. He stopped when he was in front of his “audience” again and leveled Henry with a look that reminded him of his John, a look of stubborn resolve. But his John was gone.
“When he was done, he finally saw what I had to offer. And what did you say to me, Sam?” John kept his eyes on his captives but tipped his head slightly towards his youngest.
“I said, thank you.”
“Damn straight you did. We’re going to make something beautiful together, Sammy. You and me, son. We are going to make them burn. The humanity has lost and we will pick it clean, strip it to the bone. For my Father.” John last words were whispered like a prayer, he closed his eyes in delight and sighed with satisfaction.
Then he snapped his eyes open, the eerie, yellow glow shining brighter than before as he looked at all of them with contemplation. “But first, the final… challenge.”
Sam was standing next to John, watching them, his black eyes shining against the sickly lit yellow sky like two black holes. The air around them all crackled with electricity, the pungent smell of sulfur stifling everything else. Sam turned to look at John expectantly.
“I want you to kill this…”family” of ours, Sam. Be creative and please… take your time.”
John was elated as Sam didn’t hesitate for a second and spread his hands once more.
Henry started to scream as he felt his bones-
-
“Was it better this time around?”
Henry was standing in an empty, old warehouse. He felt disoriented and thin somehow, yet everything had a strange kind of clarity.
There was a woman standing next to him, looking down at his feet. She was smiling, but there was a sadness to it. Henry followed her gaze and saw his own dead body lying there, his dead eyes staring back at him.
That was… He was…
“Henry Winchester.”, she said softly and he looked at her.
“You… I know you…” Henry said, staring at her strangely familiar face. She moved closer to him and took his hand in hers: she was warm and slightly pulsed against his translucent like form.
As he looked deep into her eyes it all came back to him, a rush of vivid memories of a whole lifetime. He felt faint and out of breath.
“But... it wasn’t real? Was it?”
“It was real to you, Henry. But... it was never meant to be.” She looked sad and apologetic at the statement.
“Why?”
“You saw why. Because all the lives you would have lived, all the choices you would’ve made, all the mistakes…ripples in the ocean, Henry. None of them would lead us here, today. But they would all lead you there, to that destruction. To the end. ”
“But why do it if-if-“
“Because a promise was made, a long time ago. And I am a woman of my word.” She looked proud and went on.
“You needed to see, Henry. You needed to see that you didn’t give your life in vain. That what you did here, in this time, had a purpose. You might be the last of your kind but the Legacy lives on in your blood. They will go on and live because of you. They have made great things because of you. Saved countless people. Saved the world.”
She was watching as Sam and Dean gently picked up Henry’s body and quietly carried it out of the warehouse. She watched after them a long while after they had disappeared through the door.
“And all they did, they did for love. They didn’t need secret handshakes and rituals, Henry. There was no need for oaths and spells and endless halls of knowledge. They have conviction far greater that your Order could ever achieve. And it’s all because of you. You needed to see that, before you go on. It saved the world once and it will again. Time after time. Ripples in the ocean that you set in motion, a long time ago.”
Henry felt that clarity again. And something else: his purpose. And he saw her.
“You are Athena. Our guardian. Our goddess. The one we honor in our oaths and rituals.”
She didn’t say anything, just kept looking at Henry with that sad smile, her eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages and with sympathy, understanding.
“But you said I could make a difference, make things right…”
“Because you already had. You just didn’t see it. And you had to. Because you are the last one. Your Order ends here, tonight, and so does our bond that has lasted for centuries. I long for my home, the rest of my family is gone. I am the last one now. And this was my last deed. My last promise. To you, Henry. And that makes you the most important one of all. I had to make it right.”
Her whole body was pulsing now: of light, of energy, of warmth and comfort. Henry had to avert his gaze, the light was too bright to look at but he could still hear her voice, streaming through his mind like a sun on cloudless day, encompassing everything in its glow.
You always made the right choice. Remember that. She is waiting.
Then she was gone. And so was he. He wasn’t standing in the warehouse anymore. Henry was standing under his old maple tree, it was early fall and the leaves were starting to turn yellow, red, orange, the air starting to feel slightly colder now, the faint aroma of the tree filling him with warm and aching memories of his wife. The love of his life.
And then he heard it, soaring with the wind, rustling in the leaves; heard her familiar laughter, resounding through time and space, coming from their house. And he followed her home.
-End-