The King's Hunters 2/4
Previous
What Prime Directive?
Over the next two weeks, while John was gone, the Winchesters and Bertie grew closer. David, on the other hand, came close to getting decked at least once a day, but both brothers managed to refrain from hurting him. After all, he was the future king of England. He was a gold-plated idjit, but he did have a title-and he was Bertie’s brother. Neither Sam nor Dean wanted to risk Prince George and Princess May kicking them out before Dad got back; they could survive on the street if they had to, but they didn’t want to leave Bertie, not when he was thriving at last.
The brothers were bummed when John missed Christmas yet again, but the celebration that they and Bertie were included in was almost enough to make them forget John was gone. A real English Christmas would have been amazing to them at the worst of times, but a royal Edwardian English Christmas? That was mind-blowing. Going back to KFC and beer-can wreaths was going to be incredibly hard.
When John did return, though, he was tired and defeated. And that had the boys worried.
“Dad?” Dean asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the civilians. “What’s wrong?”
John sighed. “I can’t find the counter-spell... we’re stuck here.”
“Stuck?!” the boys chorused.
“Until I can find some way of pulling us forward again.”
“But I thought you said-” Sam began.
“The library isn’t in Devon. Nobody over here seems to know what I’m talking about when I ask. Either my source was wrong, or... hell, maybe he was a Trickster.”
A deep sigh ripped its way through both boys.
“There’s a hunt in Oxford. I’ll try the libraries there next.”
“When do you leave?” Dean asked. Sam just slipped his hand into his father’s.
“First thing-it’s a witch from the sound of it, planning something nasty for the new moon. I know that means I’m missing holidays again, boys, but this can’t wait. Besides, the longer we’re here, the harder it’ll be for us to leave.”
Sam smiled slightly. “It’s better than a motel, though.”
John looked around and chuckled. “I’ll give you that, Sammy. You guys doing okay?”
They nodded.
“Good. Good.” John sighed. “Guess I’d better get cleaned up and get some rest. First train leaves awful early.”
Sam didn’t let go of his hand-a throwback to when he was a toddler that told John more that anything else how much at sea he was.
John didn’t snap at him, though. Instead, as much to himself as to Sam, he said, “I’ll find something. I swear. We’ll be okay.”
“What if we don’t want to leave?”
John frowned. “Don’t want-why the hell wouldn’t you want to leave? Don’t tell me you’re not missing computers and calculators and all your other modern gadgets, not to mention the car.”
“It’s... kinda nice here,” Sam said.
Dean nodded.
John shook his head. “Sam, we can’t stay at Sandringham. We’re not royals. I’ve got Prince George’s permission for you to stay here until my ‘mission’ is finished, but after that, we’re leaving-whether we’re still stuck here or not.”
A familiar rage reared in Sam’s eyes and Dean reached out and pulled him into a hug.
John ran a hand over his face. “I’m not arguing about this tonight. Dean, show me where our room is and where there’s a bathroom.”
Dean obeyed. John showered quickly and went straight to bed, not even registering that the bed was in the nursery suite.
But when he woke, it was to the sound of Dean teaching Bertie his math lesson, rudimentary fractions, as they-made breakfast?
John’s son was teaching a future king of England how to cook?
That didn’t make sense, and John’s brain was too fogged even to try to sort it out. Instead, he stumbled to the table. “Got any coffee, son?”
Sam brought it in.
“Thanks.” John guzzled the coffee and stumbled back in to get dressed.
He was nearly dressed when a knock sounded on the doorframe of his room.
“What?” he barked.
“Breakfast, Dad,” Dean said. But Dean wouldn’t have knocked.
Frowning, John turned.
There was Bertie, holding a tray with both hands, Dean right behind him. He looked up and Dean nodded encouragingly. “... G-good m-m-morning, sir.”
John relaxed a little. “Morning. Whatcha got there?”
“B-B-Breakfast.”
“You made that for me?”
He nodded.
“Well, let’s see, then.”
It was toast and eggs. Simple but filling.
John nodded. “Looks good. Thanks.”
Bertie grinned and nodded, stepping back and looking proudly at Dean.
Dean grinned back. “Go eat yours ’fore it gets cold.”
He nodded and ran.
John sat down at the small table in his room. “How long has this been going on?”
“What?” Dean asked, bringing him some water.
“You making breakfast with Bertie.”
“Few days.”
John raised an eyebrow and took a bite. Then his eyes widened as he chewed and swallowed. “This is good!”
“He’s really good and he has fun.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too attached. Like I said, soon as I get back from Oxford, we’re leaving.”
“We’ll see.” Dean stood up.
John chose to ignore that remark in favor of scarfing down the rest of his breakfast. It was tasty, but he couldn’t linger; he did have a train to catch.
“I don’t want to leave,” Sam pouted after John left.
“You never do,” Dean said. “This time I don’t want to, either. There’s gotta be some reason we landed in the Sandringham courtyard.”
Sam looked up at Dean. “You think Dad’s right, that a Trickster is involved?”
“If so, I’ve gotta say he did us a favor.”
“Did Bertie a favor, too.”
“And you,” Dean smiled.
Sam smiled back. “For once, I hope Dad doesn’t find what he’s looking for.”
“You and me, both,” Dean smiled. “Let’s get ready-we’ve got a big day ahead of us. We have to help Davy-boy pack.”
Sam made a face but followed Dean’s lead. He didn’t want to help the little jerk, but since David was leaving for boarding school the week after the new year, it was probably their last chance to get back at him by being nice to him.
Bertie knew exactly what he wanted his New Year’s gift to his mother to be. Dean worked with him until he had it perfectly.
Sure enough, the time came and Dean squeezed his shoulder with a nod. David said his good-nights and withdrew by himself.
Then Bertie stepped forward and gave his mother a hug and kiss to her cheek. He stepped back, squeezed her hand, and smiled. Then he opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and said:
“G-Good night, Mummy.”
That was all the hesitation there was.
Princess May’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “... Bertie...” she gasped, crushing him close and kissing the top of his head.
Prince George’s eyes were not very dry, either.
“Sire, it’s not a cure,” Dean said, taking a step forward. “It took a lot of practice, and it was something he wanted to do so badly he put in the time.”
“So he is not cured of the stammer,” Prince George said.
Dean shook his head. “No, sir. It will likely be with him all his life-but it can be reduced, with practice and effort.” He smiled. “He’s not a hopeless case.”
Moments later, as they were leaving, Prince George called, “Dean, would you approach, please?”
Bertie looked up at him with huge eyes, and Dean nodded. “Sammy, take him on back. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Sam nodded and took Bertie’s hand, leading the 7 year old away.
Dean walked toward the royal couple. “Yes, sir?”
“I am given to understand that you and your family will be remaining with us for some time.”
He nodded slowly, “Yes, sir. We are unable to return home as yet.”
“Perhaps this could be... advantageous. Dean...” The prince sighed. “Dean, I would like you to stay on as Bertie’s governor.”
Dean frowned. “As his-”
It was May who laughed. “George, they don’t understand. Dean, we’re asking you to be his teacher and mentor. He adores you, and you are able to reach him like none other has.”
“But I know nothing about teaching a royal how to be a royal.”
“Dean,” George smiled. “That boy is more of a royal now than he has ever been. He has a true heart for his subjects. I’m only sorry that he’s not the one who will become king.”
Dean cleared his throat a little. “Well, who knows?”
“So you shall stay?” May asked.
Dean just grinned. “I’m a mercenary American, Ma’am. How much does it pay?” It was clearly a joke, and she laughed warmly.
George grinned broadly and said, “It pays enough, Dean.”
Sam approached Bertie two weeks after David left. “What are birthday parties like here?” he asked him, sliding the slate over.
Family or servant? Bertie asked.
“Dean.”
Bertie’s eyes sparkled as he jotted down ideas. He didn’t even balk much at Sam’s suggestion that they have pie rather than cake.
When?
“The 24th,” Sam whispered conspiratorially.
Bertie nodded sagely. I’ll arrange it with Cook.
Sam hugged the 7 year old. They were becoming fast friends.
Will your father be here?
“I hope not.”
Bertie frowned. “Wh-wh-why not?”
“He’ll make us go away.”
“B-b-b-but you c-... can’t! D-D-D-D-D-Dean’s...”
“Dean’s what?”
Bertie’s throat seemed to close up on him entirely in his distress, so he gave up and grabbed the slate. Dean’s only just been hired! Father won’t let him go! I won’t let him go!
“But you see? Our father doesn’t know.”
Bertie’s eyes flashed with determination. Then we’ll tell him.
John returned the next day. Oxford had been a bust. He’d ransacked the Cambridge libraries, too, to no avail. The hunt had been something of a relief, but he had no idea what he was going to do now, how he’d provide for the boys in an age when there were no credit cards to scam and a country so small, he didn’t know if he could dodge the law if things went sideways.
When he saw Dean, he was sitting with Bertie, working on vocal exercises.
“Having a good time?” he asked.
Dean smiled at him.
John smiled back and went straight to bed, barely remembering to take his boots off. He was too stressed and exhausted to do anything else.
The next morning, John went to take his leave of the prince and princess, but Dean and Bertie were in the room when he got there.
“Your Majesties,” John said with a nod. “Is Dean in trouble?”
“In trouble?” Princess May frowned, looking at her husband. “Why would you think that?”
John floundered. “Uh, no... reason. What’s going on?”
“We wanted to talk to you about your quest,” Prince George said.
John blinked. “Yes, sir?”
“Perhaps it is time to abandon it.”
John wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Abandon it.”
“At least... the part where you will remove your sons from us.”
“Sir, I... I really don’t think... I mean, I can’t impose....”
Mary smiled. “Dean is the best governor we have ever hired for Bertie.”
Dean flushed.
John fought down his sudden panic. “Ma’am, sir, would you excuse us a moment? I need to have a word with my son.”
George, with a gesture, indicated they were to go to the corridor.
John led Dean out. Once the doors were closed, though he kept his voice low, he exploded. “What the hell, Dean?!”
Dean just looked at him.
“You let them hire you?! You-you can’t-we can’t just go around changing history at will!”
“We already have-just by being here.”
“We’re talking about the future king of England here!”
“I know.”
John just stared at Dean for a moment. “I cannot understand this attitude of yours, Dean.”
“No, sir? Why not?”
John ran a hand through his hair. “Look. It’s my fault we’re here; it’s my fault we’re stuck. But you have to know the dangers of staying put, even now. And this isn’t just some random family you’ve befriended or some random babysitting job you’ve taken.”
“I’m not babysitting, Dad.”
“No? What are you doing, then?”
“I am the governor-the trainer and educator-of a future king.”
“And what makes any of you think this is smart?”
“What makes you think it isn’t?”
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, son, the things that are gunning for us... there’s no guarantee that we’ve lost ’em by coming here. And besides, you’re fifteen. You’re smart enough to tutor Bertie, sure, but what business do you have trying to teach him how to be king?”
“Things have already changed, Dad.”
“What things?”
“David is gone, four years early.”
John blinked. “Wha-whose idea was that?”
“His mother’s. She hoped it would make him kinder. We both know it won’t.”
John ran a hand through his hair again, trying to ignore the way said hand was shaking. “Leaving’s going to be even more dangerous than staying, is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Dammit.” John hoped Dean didn’t notice the way his voice almost broke. He was so far out of his depth, he might as well be snorkeling in the Marianas Trench.
Dean stayed silent. He’d said his piece.
John cursed under his breath as he tried to pull himself together. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. But if palace life was going to become their Situation Normal, he needed to get his act together and fast. He wished wildly for Jim, Bobby, Ellen, anyone who could ground him, tell him what to do-but they weren’t here. He and the boys were, and Dean currently had one future King of England who thought he hung the moon and one very cushy job to show for it.
John didn’t know what to do with himself. But it was pretty clear what he needed to do with the boys.
He took a deep breath and let it out again. “Okay.”
Dean’s eyes widened. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting capitulation.
“For the record, I’m not happy about any of this. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t find the counter-spell. You’ve got Bertie to look after on top of Sammy. And this place beats the hell out of anyplace we could scam our way into even in our own day, never mind now.”
Dean smiled. Then he grabbed his father’s arm. “One more thing, Dad.”
“Don’t tell me the butler’s a vampire.”
Dean laughed, then sobered. “If you even think of booking passage on a certain ship in ’12-I will personally hunt you down.”
John smiled wryly. “Hadn’t even thought that far ahead, son. But duly noted.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll... I’ll figure something out.”
“We need to go back in.”
John nodded and squeezed Dean’s shoulder, suddenly noticing how grown up he looked. His little boy was nearly a man. And John was damn proud of him. “Let’s go.”
They walked in and Dean bowed expertly to the prince and princess before going right to Bertie.
John cleared his throat nervously as Prince George looked at him. “Well, sir, ma’am... it seems my boys are actually needed here. I’m not sure of my own plans, but as long as you’re pleased with the job Dean’s doing, I... see no reason for them not to stay.”
The prince and princess beamed at him. “He has done our Bertie a world of good,” May pointed out.
Bertie nodded vigorously in agreement.
“When you figure out what you want to do,” Prince George said, “we shall attempt to aid you in any way we can.”
John nodded slowly. “Thank you. That... that means a lot.”
“Is all settled with your sons?” George asked.
“Is with Dean. I haven’t talked to Sammy yet.”
“Might I recommend you begin there?”
John nodded again. “I’ll do that. Thank you, sir. Ma’am.” He bowed slightly to both adults and headed back to the nursery.
Sam was working on “lessons”-and birthday plans.
“Hey, Sammy,” John said as he walked up behind Sam.
“Dad.” Sam didn’t turn.
“Listen, I’ve... just had a long talk with Dean and with... with Bertie’s folks.” John didn’t know why it suddenly felt more natural to put it that way.
“And?” There was mistrust in the young voice.
“I’ll be staying at least through Dean’s birthday. But, um... when I do... I mean, if I take off again... you boys won’t be coming with me.”
His jaw dropped as he turned to face his father. “... seriously?”
John nodded. “Dean put me wise as to what’s been going on, how things are changing. We’d do more damage by leaving now than you boys would by staying. You’ll be safe here, looked after. I’ll want to ward this suite, but... anyway....”
“It’s already warded.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “Show me.”
Sam showed him. There were sigils worked into the woodwork-done when the palace was built, looked like, which was surprising. John didn’t recognize all of them, but the ones he did recognize suggested that the demon that had possessed the nanny had to have been more powerful than it seemed. “And we’ve salted the windows and doors every day,” Sam finished.
John nodded and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Keep it up. Like I told Dean, I have no way of knowing whether the things that were gunning for us back home will still be after us here.”
“Why were they gunning for us?” Sam asked.
John was debating whether and how much to tell him when Dean and Bertie returned. He sighed. “Bertie, would you excuse us? Sammy, Dean, come in here, please.” He nodded toward his room.
Bertie frowned, but Dean nodded, so he retreated.
Once John and the boys were in John’s room, he shut the door and tried to figure out where to begin. “You know why I started hunting, right?”
“Mom was murdered by something not human,” Sam said.
“That’s right. I’ve been trying to find out what and why ever since. And before we came here, I got an answer.”
“Tell us,” they chorused.
John hesitated. “It... it might not matter anymore-if I can find it now, stop it now....”
“Dad,” Dean warned.
“Dammit, Dean, I just want you boys safe-”
“Well, we’re not and we won’t be until you stop with the damned secrets!”
John sighed heavily. “It was a demon.”
They looked at each other, then back at him. Dean said, “Go on.”
“Evidently, your mom... she... saw something she wasn’t supposed to. He killed her before she could try to do anything about it.”
“What did she see?” Sam asked.
“Sam, I can’t-”
“Then you can leave and never come back,” Dean cut him off. “And I can have the king’s men enforce it.”
“Dean!”
“Stop. Hiding. Information.”
The muscle in John’s jaw twitched before he ground out, “The demon did something to Sam. I don’t have details. All I know is, my source called him the Boy King of Hell.”
Sam went pale. “Who was your source?”
“Another demon.”
“And you believed a demon?” Sam asked firmly.
“Do I have a choice? It fits the evidence. The fire started in your nursery-Mary died over your crib.”
“So,” Sam said slowly. “I’m the king of hell and it’s my fault Mom is dead.”
John froze. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you really think, though. It shows in how you’ve treated me since you found out. I suddenly went from your baby boy to something you couldn’t stand to look at.”
“That’s not fair, Sammy.”
“No. But it’s the truth.”
“I notice you’re not denying it, Dad,” Dean said levelly.
“I don’t know what I really think,” John protested. “What I know is that demons look at Sam that way.”
“And so do you,” Sam said.
“That’s enough, Sam.” John felt a headache coming on. Did he think of Sam that way, really? “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
Sam stood up. “I am not the king of anything. I will not become evil. No matter what.”
“You say that now,” John muttered, not realizing that he’d said it aloud.
“And I mean it!” Sam bellowed. “And I don’t even want to know how you can justify blaming a six month old baby for Mom’s death! You hate me!” With that, he stormed out of the room-careful not to muss the salt line.
“Samuel Francis Winchester, you get back here!”
“Go to Hell!” Sam bellowed. “Oh, wait-since I’m apparently going to be KING there, DON’T go there! I don’t want you to have to suffer looking at the face of the kid who killed your wife!”
Dean winced.
“That is ENOUGH!” John barked. “Whatever else you may be, you are still my son, and I will not tolerate that kind of attitude from you!”
“Look at his eyes,” Dean said, catching his father’s arm. “Ratchet it back a couple of notches and look at his eyes.”
Sam’s eyes were blazing with hurt, grief and anger.
John never had quite known how to deal with those emotions in his boys, and he didn’t know what to do now that they were directed at him-especially since he was still dealing with hurts and griefs of his own. He couldn’t say he was sorry because he didn’t know that he’d said anything to be sorry for. All he could think to do was repeat, “Sam. You’re still my son.”
“I’m a little boy,” Sam half-sobbed. “I’m not this thing the demons say I am.”
“Hell, boy, that’s the reason I brought you here with me. I want you safe-can’t you understand that?”
“You’re not punishing me?” And that was the first time John realised that Sam genuinely thought that. “By making me stop everything I love and pulling me away from every place and everybody I grew attached to?”
“Sammy, no, it’s never been that. We’ve never been safe staying in one place for long. We had to keep moving, going where the hunts were, so we could try to keep one step ahead of this thing.”
“That’s... that’s crazy.”
John took a step forward. “I don’t expect you to understand. What I do expect you to understand is that your family matters more than soccer games and math championships. Me and Dean, we’re what you can trust. We’re who you should love. And if you want to stay out of the demons’ hands, you’ll do that.”
“And my happiness isn’t important to you,” Sam countered.
“We are at war. Happiness has nothing to do with it.”
“We are a hundred years in the past. That war is over.”
“We hope,” John cautioned. “That’s one reason I’m letting you boys stay here. But we cannot let down our guard, not until we know for sure.”
“And you don’t trust Dean to keep me safe?”
“Dean can’t be with you all the time.”
Rage reared up again. “Well, guess what, Dad? YOU ARE ALWAYS GONE.”
Dean grabbed Sam. “Cool off.”
“Dean, he-”
“Cool. Off.”
Sam grumbled and went into the bathroom.
“I’ll be back later,” John said. “Not goin’ far.” And he stormed out of the nursery.
Dean sighed. Bertie found him sitting with his head in his hands.
“D-D-D-D... D-D...” Bertie half-choked, which turned into a hiccup.
“Hey.” He stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“Y-y-y-y-yyyyyour...” Bertie couldn’t get anything else out verbally, but a tear slipped down his cheek.
“Aw, Bertie....”
Bertie tried again to say something, failed, and settled for giving Dean a crushing hug.
Dean rocked him.
Sam came out of the bathroom then and paused. “Oh, so it’s Bertie who gets hugs now, huh?” he sneered.
Dean held out an arm for Sam.
Sam hesitated, still scowling, before stomping over and accepting the hug.
Dean held on tight.
“’M I still your brother, Dean?”
“Always and forever, Sammy. Always. And. Forever.”
“’Cuz Dad....”
“Isn’t... completely sane.”
“You... you think any of it’s true?”
“I think you were attacked and the... creatures... are trying to force you into what Dad claims they say.”
Sam deflated a little.
“But ultimately-you decide your own fate and future.”
“I don’t wanna go that way,” he whispered.
“Then don’t. We all have a choice.” He looked at Bertie. “Everyone has a choice as to what kind of man they are.”
“E-even k-k-k-k-kings?” Bertie asked, turning his tear-streaked face up to look at Dean.
“Even kings,” Dean said. “You can be a tyrant or a compassionate man.”
“I w-I w-w-want to be c-c-” The word got stuck, but everyone knew what he meant.
Sam rubbed his arm.
John came back and paused just outside the nursery door just as Bertie threw an arm around Sam and hugged both brothers at once. He stood there a moment, watching, realizing that maybe letting the boys stay was a better choice than it had seemed at first.
Rather than intruding on the moment and possibly provoking another fight, John decided to see whether he could find the palace library.
Next
What Prime Directive?
Over the next two weeks, while John was gone, the Winchesters and Bertie grew closer. David, on the other hand, came close to getting decked at least once a day, but both brothers managed to refrain from hurting him. After all, he was the future king of England. He was a gold-plated idjit, but he did have a title-and he was Bertie’s brother. Neither Sam nor Dean wanted to risk Prince George and Princess May kicking them out before Dad got back; they could survive on the street if they had to, but they didn’t want to leave Bertie, not when he was thriving at last.
The brothers were bummed when John missed Christmas yet again, but the celebration that they and Bertie were included in was almost enough to make them forget John was gone. A real English Christmas would have been amazing to them at the worst of times, but a royal Edwardian English Christmas? That was mind-blowing. Going back to KFC and beer-can wreaths was going to be incredibly hard.
When John did return, though, he was tired and defeated. And that had the boys worried.
“Dad?” Dean asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the civilians. “What’s wrong?”
John sighed. “I can’t find the counter-spell... we’re stuck here.”
“Stuck?!” the boys chorused.
“Until I can find some way of pulling us forward again.”
“But I thought you said-” Sam began.
“The library isn’t in Devon. Nobody over here seems to know what I’m talking about when I ask. Either my source was wrong, or... hell, maybe he was a Trickster.”
A deep sigh ripped its way through both boys.
“There’s a hunt in Oxford. I’ll try the libraries there next.”
“When do you leave?” Dean asked. Sam just slipped his hand into his father’s.
“First thing-it’s a witch from the sound of it, planning something nasty for the new moon. I know that means I’m missing holidays again, boys, but this can’t wait. Besides, the longer we’re here, the harder it’ll be for us to leave.”
Sam smiled slightly. “It’s better than a motel, though.”
John looked around and chuckled. “I’ll give you that, Sammy. You guys doing okay?”
They nodded.
“Good. Good.” John sighed. “Guess I’d better get cleaned up and get some rest. First train leaves awful early.”
Sam didn’t let go of his hand-a throwback to when he was a toddler that told John more that anything else how much at sea he was.
John didn’t snap at him, though. Instead, as much to himself as to Sam, he said, “I’ll find something. I swear. We’ll be okay.”
“What if we don’t want to leave?”
John frowned. “Don’t want-why the hell wouldn’t you want to leave? Don’t tell me you’re not missing computers and calculators and all your other modern gadgets, not to mention the car.”
“It’s... kinda nice here,” Sam said.
Dean nodded.
John shook his head. “Sam, we can’t stay at Sandringham. We’re not royals. I’ve got Prince George’s permission for you to stay here until my ‘mission’ is finished, but after that, we’re leaving-whether we’re still stuck here or not.”
A familiar rage reared in Sam’s eyes and Dean reached out and pulled him into a hug.
John ran a hand over his face. “I’m not arguing about this tonight. Dean, show me where our room is and where there’s a bathroom.”
Dean obeyed. John showered quickly and went straight to bed, not even registering that the bed was in the nursery suite.
But when he woke, it was to the sound of Dean teaching Bertie his math lesson, rudimentary fractions, as they-made breakfast?
John’s son was teaching a future king of England how to cook?
That didn’t make sense, and John’s brain was too fogged even to try to sort it out. Instead, he stumbled to the table. “Got any coffee, son?”
Sam brought it in.
“Thanks.” John guzzled the coffee and stumbled back in to get dressed.
He was nearly dressed when a knock sounded on the doorframe of his room.
“What?” he barked.
“Breakfast, Dad,” Dean said. But Dean wouldn’t have knocked.
Frowning, John turned.
There was Bertie, holding a tray with both hands, Dean right behind him. He looked up and Dean nodded encouragingly. “... G-good m-m-morning, sir.”
John relaxed a little. “Morning. Whatcha got there?”
“B-B-Breakfast.”
“You made that for me?”
He nodded.
“Well, let’s see, then.”
It was toast and eggs. Simple but filling.
John nodded. “Looks good. Thanks.”
Bertie grinned and nodded, stepping back and looking proudly at Dean.
Dean grinned back. “Go eat yours ’fore it gets cold.”
He nodded and ran.
John sat down at the small table in his room. “How long has this been going on?”
“What?” Dean asked, bringing him some water.
“You making breakfast with Bertie.”
“Few days.”
John raised an eyebrow and took a bite. Then his eyes widened as he chewed and swallowed. “This is good!”
“He’s really good and he has fun.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too attached. Like I said, soon as I get back from Oxford, we’re leaving.”
“We’ll see.” Dean stood up.
John chose to ignore that remark in favor of scarfing down the rest of his breakfast. It was tasty, but he couldn’t linger; he did have a train to catch.
“I don’t want to leave,” Sam pouted after John left.
“You never do,” Dean said. “This time I don’t want to, either. There’s gotta be some reason we landed in the Sandringham courtyard.”
Sam looked up at Dean. “You think Dad’s right, that a Trickster is involved?”
“If so, I’ve gotta say he did us a favor.”
“Did Bertie a favor, too.”
“And you,” Dean smiled.
Sam smiled back. “For once, I hope Dad doesn’t find what he’s looking for.”
“You and me, both,” Dean smiled. “Let’s get ready-we’ve got a big day ahead of us. We have to help Davy-boy pack.”
Sam made a face but followed Dean’s lead. He didn’t want to help the little jerk, but since David was leaving for boarding school the week after the new year, it was probably their last chance to get back at him by being nice to him.
Bertie knew exactly what he wanted his New Year’s gift to his mother to be. Dean worked with him until he had it perfectly.
Sure enough, the time came and Dean squeezed his shoulder with a nod. David said his good-nights and withdrew by himself.
Then Bertie stepped forward and gave his mother a hug and kiss to her cheek. He stepped back, squeezed her hand, and smiled. Then he opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and said:
“G-Good night, Mummy.”
That was all the hesitation there was.
Princess May’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “... Bertie...” she gasped, crushing him close and kissing the top of his head.
Prince George’s eyes were not very dry, either.
“Sire, it’s not a cure,” Dean said, taking a step forward. “It took a lot of practice, and it was something he wanted to do so badly he put in the time.”
“So he is not cured of the stammer,” Prince George said.
Dean shook his head. “No, sir. It will likely be with him all his life-but it can be reduced, with practice and effort.” He smiled. “He’s not a hopeless case.”
Moments later, as they were leaving, Prince George called, “Dean, would you approach, please?”
Bertie looked up at him with huge eyes, and Dean nodded. “Sammy, take him on back. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Sam nodded and took Bertie’s hand, leading the 7 year old away.
Dean walked toward the royal couple. “Yes, sir?”
“I am given to understand that you and your family will be remaining with us for some time.”
He nodded slowly, “Yes, sir. We are unable to return home as yet.”
“Perhaps this could be... advantageous. Dean...” The prince sighed. “Dean, I would like you to stay on as Bertie’s governor.”
Dean frowned. “As his-”
It was May who laughed. “George, they don’t understand. Dean, we’re asking you to be his teacher and mentor. He adores you, and you are able to reach him like none other has.”
“But I know nothing about teaching a royal how to be a royal.”
“Dean,” George smiled. “That boy is more of a royal now than he has ever been. He has a true heart for his subjects. I’m only sorry that he’s not the one who will become king.”
Dean cleared his throat a little. “Well, who knows?”
“So you shall stay?” May asked.
Dean just grinned. “I’m a mercenary American, Ma’am. How much does it pay?” It was clearly a joke, and she laughed warmly.
George grinned broadly and said, “It pays enough, Dean.”
Sam approached Bertie two weeks after David left. “What are birthday parties like here?” he asked him, sliding the slate over.
Family or servant? Bertie asked.
“Dean.”
Bertie’s eyes sparkled as he jotted down ideas. He didn’t even balk much at Sam’s suggestion that they have pie rather than cake.
When?
“The 24th,” Sam whispered conspiratorially.
Bertie nodded sagely. I’ll arrange it with Cook.
Sam hugged the 7 year old. They were becoming fast friends.
Will your father be here?
“I hope not.”
Bertie frowned. “Wh-wh-why not?”
“He’ll make us go away.”
“B-b-b-but you c-... can’t! D-D-D-D-D-Dean’s...”
“Dean’s what?”
Bertie’s throat seemed to close up on him entirely in his distress, so he gave up and grabbed the slate. Dean’s only just been hired! Father won’t let him go! I won’t let him go!
“But you see? Our father doesn’t know.”
Bertie’s eyes flashed with determination. Then we’ll tell him.
John returned the next day. Oxford had been a bust. He’d ransacked the Cambridge libraries, too, to no avail. The hunt had been something of a relief, but he had no idea what he was going to do now, how he’d provide for the boys in an age when there were no credit cards to scam and a country so small, he didn’t know if he could dodge the law if things went sideways.
When he saw Dean, he was sitting with Bertie, working on vocal exercises.
“Having a good time?” he asked.
Dean smiled at him.
John smiled back and went straight to bed, barely remembering to take his boots off. He was too stressed and exhausted to do anything else.
The next morning, John went to take his leave of the prince and princess, but Dean and Bertie were in the room when he got there.
“Your Majesties,” John said with a nod. “Is Dean in trouble?”
“In trouble?” Princess May frowned, looking at her husband. “Why would you think that?”
John floundered. “Uh, no... reason. What’s going on?”
“We wanted to talk to you about your quest,” Prince George said.
John blinked. “Yes, sir?”
“Perhaps it is time to abandon it.”
John wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Abandon it.”
“At least... the part where you will remove your sons from us.”
“Sir, I... I really don’t think... I mean, I can’t impose....”
Mary smiled. “Dean is the best governor we have ever hired for Bertie.”
Dean flushed.
John fought down his sudden panic. “Ma’am, sir, would you excuse us a moment? I need to have a word with my son.”
George, with a gesture, indicated they were to go to the corridor.
John led Dean out. Once the doors were closed, though he kept his voice low, he exploded. “What the hell, Dean?!”
Dean just looked at him.
“You let them hire you?! You-you can’t-we can’t just go around changing history at will!”
“We already have-just by being here.”
“We’re talking about the future king of England here!”
“I know.”
John just stared at Dean for a moment. “I cannot understand this attitude of yours, Dean.”
“No, sir? Why not?”
John ran a hand through his hair. “Look. It’s my fault we’re here; it’s my fault we’re stuck. But you have to know the dangers of staying put, even now. And this isn’t just some random family you’ve befriended or some random babysitting job you’ve taken.”
“I’m not babysitting, Dad.”
“No? What are you doing, then?”
“I am the governor-the trainer and educator-of a future king.”
“And what makes any of you think this is smart?”
“What makes you think it isn’t?”
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, son, the things that are gunning for us... there’s no guarantee that we’ve lost ’em by coming here. And besides, you’re fifteen. You’re smart enough to tutor Bertie, sure, but what business do you have trying to teach him how to be king?”
“Things have already changed, Dad.”
“What things?”
“David is gone, four years early.”
John blinked. “Wha-whose idea was that?”
“His mother’s. She hoped it would make him kinder. We both know it won’t.”
John ran a hand through his hair again, trying to ignore the way said hand was shaking. “Leaving’s going to be even more dangerous than staying, is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Dammit.” John hoped Dean didn’t notice the way his voice almost broke. He was so far out of his depth, he might as well be snorkeling in the Marianas Trench.
Dean stayed silent. He’d said his piece.
John cursed under his breath as he tried to pull himself together. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. But if palace life was going to become their Situation Normal, he needed to get his act together and fast. He wished wildly for Jim, Bobby, Ellen, anyone who could ground him, tell him what to do-but they weren’t here. He and the boys were, and Dean currently had one future King of England who thought he hung the moon and one very cushy job to show for it.
John didn’t know what to do with himself. But it was pretty clear what he needed to do with the boys.
He took a deep breath and let it out again. “Okay.”
Dean’s eyes widened. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting capitulation.
“For the record, I’m not happy about any of this. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t find the counter-spell. You’ve got Bertie to look after on top of Sammy. And this place beats the hell out of anyplace we could scam our way into even in our own day, never mind now.”
Dean smiled. Then he grabbed his father’s arm. “One more thing, Dad.”
“Don’t tell me the butler’s a vampire.”
Dean laughed, then sobered. “If you even think of booking passage on a certain ship in ’12-I will personally hunt you down.”
John smiled wryly. “Hadn’t even thought that far ahead, son. But duly noted.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll... I’ll figure something out.”
“We need to go back in.”
John nodded and squeezed Dean’s shoulder, suddenly noticing how grown up he looked. His little boy was nearly a man. And John was damn proud of him. “Let’s go.”
They walked in and Dean bowed expertly to the prince and princess before going right to Bertie.
John cleared his throat nervously as Prince George looked at him. “Well, sir, ma’am... it seems my boys are actually needed here. I’m not sure of my own plans, but as long as you’re pleased with the job Dean’s doing, I... see no reason for them not to stay.”
The prince and princess beamed at him. “He has done our Bertie a world of good,” May pointed out.
Bertie nodded vigorously in agreement.
“When you figure out what you want to do,” Prince George said, “we shall attempt to aid you in any way we can.”
John nodded slowly. “Thank you. That... that means a lot.”
“Is all settled with your sons?” George asked.
“Is with Dean. I haven’t talked to Sammy yet.”
“Might I recommend you begin there?”
John nodded again. “I’ll do that. Thank you, sir. Ma’am.” He bowed slightly to both adults and headed back to the nursery.
Sam was working on “lessons”-and birthday plans.
“Hey, Sammy,” John said as he walked up behind Sam.
“Dad.” Sam didn’t turn.
“Listen, I’ve... just had a long talk with Dean and with... with Bertie’s folks.” John didn’t know why it suddenly felt more natural to put it that way.
“And?” There was mistrust in the young voice.
“I’ll be staying at least through Dean’s birthday. But, um... when I do... I mean, if I take off again... you boys won’t be coming with me.”
His jaw dropped as he turned to face his father. “... seriously?”
John nodded. “Dean put me wise as to what’s been going on, how things are changing. We’d do more damage by leaving now than you boys would by staying. You’ll be safe here, looked after. I’ll want to ward this suite, but... anyway....”
“It’s already warded.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “Show me.”
Sam showed him. There were sigils worked into the woodwork-done when the palace was built, looked like, which was surprising. John didn’t recognize all of them, but the ones he did recognize suggested that the demon that had possessed the nanny had to have been more powerful than it seemed. “And we’ve salted the windows and doors every day,” Sam finished.
John nodded and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Keep it up. Like I told Dean, I have no way of knowing whether the things that were gunning for us back home will still be after us here.”
“Why were they gunning for us?” Sam asked.
John was debating whether and how much to tell him when Dean and Bertie returned. He sighed. “Bertie, would you excuse us? Sammy, Dean, come in here, please.” He nodded toward his room.
Bertie frowned, but Dean nodded, so he retreated.
Once John and the boys were in John’s room, he shut the door and tried to figure out where to begin. “You know why I started hunting, right?”
“Mom was murdered by something not human,” Sam said.
“That’s right. I’ve been trying to find out what and why ever since. And before we came here, I got an answer.”
“Tell us,” they chorused.
John hesitated. “It... it might not matter anymore-if I can find it now, stop it now....”
“Dad,” Dean warned.
“Dammit, Dean, I just want you boys safe-”
“Well, we’re not and we won’t be until you stop with the damned secrets!”
John sighed heavily. “It was a demon.”
They looked at each other, then back at him. Dean said, “Go on.”
“Evidently, your mom... she... saw something she wasn’t supposed to. He killed her before she could try to do anything about it.”
“What did she see?” Sam asked.
“Sam, I can’t-”
“Then you can leave and never come back,” Dean cut him off. “And I can have the king’s men enforce it.”
“Dean!”
“Stop. Hiding. Information.”
The muscle in John’s jaw twitched before he ground out, “The demon did something to Sam. I don’t have details. All I know is, my source called him the Boy King of Hell.”
Sam went pale. “Who was your source?”
“Another demon.”
“And you believed a demon?” Sam asked firmly.
“Do I have a choice? It fits the evidence. The fire started in your nursery-Mary died over your crib.”
“So,” Sam said slowly. “I’m the king of hell and it’s my fault Mom is dead.”
John froze. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you really think, though. It shows in how you’ve treated me since you found out. I suddenly went from your baby boy to something you couldn’t stand to look at.”
“That’s not fair, Sammy.”
“No. But it’s the truth.”
“I notice you’re not denying it, Dad,” Dean said levelly.
“I don’t know what I really think,” John protested. “What I know is that demons look at Sam that way.”
“And so do you,” Sam said.
“That’s enough, Sam.” John felt a headache coming on. Did he think of Sam that way, really? “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
Sam stood up. “I am not the king of anything. I will not become evil. No matter what.”
“You say that now,” John muttered, not realizing that he’d said it aloud.
“And I mean it!” Sam bellowed. “And I don’t even want to know how you can justify blaming a six month old baby for Mom’s death! You hate me!” With that, he stormed out of the room-careful not to muss the salt line.
“Samuel Francis Winchester, you get back here!”
“Go to Hell!” Sam bellowed. “Oh, wait-since I’m apparently going to be KING there, DON’T go there! I don’t want you to have to suffer looking at the face of the kid who killed your wife!”
Dean winced.
“That is ENOUGH!” John barked. “Whatever else you may be, you are still my son, and I will not tolerate that kind of attitude from you!”
“Look at his eyes,” Dean said, catching his father’s arm. “Ratchet it back a couple of notches and look at his eyes.”
Sam’s eyes were blazing with hurt, grief and anger.
John never had quite known how to deal with those emotions in his boys, and he didn’t know what to do now that they were directed at him-especially since he was still dealing with hurts and griefs of his own. He couldn’t say he was sorry because he didn’t know that he’d said anything to be sorry for. All he could think to do was repeat, “Sam. You’re still my son.”
“I’m a little boy,” Sam half-sobbed. “I’m not this thing the demons say I am.”
“Hell, boy, that’s the reason I brought you here with me. I want you safe-can’t you understand that?”
“You’re not punishing me?” And that was the first time John realised that Sam genuinely thought that. “By making me stop everything I love and pulling me away from every place and everybody I grew attached to?”
“Sammy, no, it’s never been that. We’ve never been safe staying in one place for long. We had to keep moving, going where the hunts were, so we could try to keep one step ahead of this thing.”
“That’s... that’s crazy.”
John took a step forward. “I don’t expect you to understand. What I do expect you to understand is that your family matters more than soccer games and math championships. Me and Dean, we’re what you can trust. We’re who you should love. And if you want to stay out of the demons’ hands, you’ll do that.”
“And my happiness isn’t important to you,” Sam countered.
“We are at war. Happiness has nothing to do with it.”
“We are a hundred years in the past. That war is over.”
“We hope,” John cautioned. “That’s one reason I’m letting you boys stay here. But we cannot let down our guard, not until we know for sure.”
“And you don’t trust Dean to keep me safe?”
“Dean can’t be with you all the time.”
Rage reared up again. “Well, guess what, Dad? YOU ARE ALWAYS GONE.”
Dean grabbed Sam. “Cool off.”
“Dean, he-”
“Cool. Off.”
Sam grumbled and went into the bathroom.
“I’ll be back later,” John said. “Not goin’ far.” And he stormed out of the nursery.
Dean sighed. Bertie found him sitting with his head in his hands.
“D-D-D-D... D-D...” Bertie half-choked, which turned into a hiccup.
“Hey.” He stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“Y-y-y-y-yyyyyour...” Bertie couldn’t get anything else out verbally, but a tear slipped down his cheek.
“Aw, Bertie....”
Bertie tried again to say something, failed, and settled for giving Dean a crushing hug.
Dean rocked him.
Sam came out of the bathroom then and paused. “Oh, so it’s Bertie who gets hugs now, huh?” he sneered.
Dean held out an arm for Sam.
Sam hesitated, still scowling, before stomping over and accepting the hug.
Dean held on tight.
“’M I still your brother, Dean?”
“Always and forever, Sammy. Always. And. Forever.”
“’Cuz Dad....”
“Isn’t... completely sane.”
“You... you think any of it’s true?”
“I think you were attacked and the... creatures... are trying to force you into what Dad claims they say.”
Sam deflated a little.
“But ultimately-you decide your own fate and future.”
“I don’t wanna go that way,” he whispered.
“Then don’t. We all have a choice.” He looked at Bertie. “Everyone has a choice as to what kind of man they are.”
“E-even k-k-k-k-kings?” Bertie asked, turning his tear-streaked face up to look at Dean.
“Even kings,” Dean said. “You can be a tyrant or a compassionate man.”
“I w-I w-w-want to be c-c-” The word got stuck, but everyone knew what he meant.
Sam rubbed his arm.
John came back and paused just outside the nursery door just as Bertie threw an arm around Sam and hugged both brothers at once. He stood there a moment, watching, realizing that maybe letting the boys stay was a better choice than it had seemed at first.
Rather than intruding on the moment and possibly provoking another fight, John decided to see whether he could find the palace library.
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