The King's Hunters 4/4
Previous
Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax
As soon as he watched the car leave Sandringham to take Sam to the train to Southampton in April, Dean went in to see if John needed anything. He found him in the library researching. “What’s up?”
“Got a hunt,” John replied. “Got a suspect, too. Can’t tell if it’s a were or a Spring-heeled Jack or what, though. Probably gonna have to tail him to find out.”
“Tail him where?”
The reply was a little distracted. “Southampton. Looks like he’s planning to flee the country before Scotland Yard can catch up to him.
“When’s the sail date?”
“Waiting for confirmation from the Yard, but best guess is the 10th.” John paused, blinked, and looked at Dean then. “Why?”
Dean shook his head. “You’re not tailing that man, Dad.”
John frowned. “Yes, I am, son. I can’t let him kill again.”
“Dad - there’s only one ship that sailed from Southampton on the 10th of April. Titanic.”
The color drained from John’s face as he swore. “I... I forgot. But Dean, I can’t run the risk that he’ll escape.”
“Gimme the name.”
“Ciaran Jacobs.”
“... had to be under an alias. Any aliases?”
“John Baker....”
Dean swore.
“What?”
“Engine crew. No information known. Died in the sinking.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
John frowned. “Engine crew-he’d be... killed in the explosion? Drowned in the initial wave?”
“Depends on where he is.”
John rubbed the back of his neck. “Not many things could survive something like that, and the things that generally could aren’t on my suspect list-but dammit, I have to be sure. Maybe if I go, I can-”
“-die.”
“In the line of duty, son.”
“Unnecessarily!”
John looked away.
“If I have to get His Majesty to tuck you under the throne and sit on you, you are not going!”
That startled a laugh out of John, which got a small smile from Dean. Dean rarely went against his father - but when he did, he was as fiery as Sam was.
“I just... I have to be sure,” John repeated quietly.
“No, you don’t. Not about this. About this, you have to trust me.”
John looked at Dean steadily for a long moment. Then he sighed and shut the folder in front of him. “All right, son. I’ll trust you.”
Dean sighed. “Thank you.”
John nodded once. Then, after a pause, he asked, “How the hell do you remember?”
“Remember?” Dean frowned.
“The names and fates, all of that.”
Dean shrugged. “If I read it and I’m interested in it, I remember it.”
“Wh-What’s going on?” came from the doorway. Bertie stood there, arms crossed. “I c-come home... f-for a week - and you t-two are f-f-f-fighting!”
John sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about, Bertie. Besides, the fight’s over, and Dean won.”
“G-Good. Could’ve t-told you that’s... that’s how it’d en-end up. D-Dean always wins.”
Dean barked a laugh.
And John cracked a wide smile. “That he does!”
Still grinning, Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
The first sight of Olympic at the Southampton dock gave Sam the shivers, since her sister was being fitted out right next to her. He never did explain to his classmates why he was crying softly when he came to his room. They jibed him mercilessly.
But fate had a wicked hand to play. About two days out of port, the Olympic threw a propeller blade, forcing a turn back. They arrived in the Southampton dry dock April 8.
And the announcement came that whoever wanted to could transfer to Titanic if they wanted to get to New York faster. Most of the young men in Sam’s group were eager, especially Brady and Cleves. But Sam adamantly put his foot down. “No. No! How many ways do I have to say it? No, no, no, no, NO.”
“Oh, come off it, Winchester,” Cleves scoffed. “Thought you were as keen to get to New York as the rest of us.”
“Not on that shit, I’m not!” Sam had a distinct feeling he’s mispronounced ‘ship’ but at that moment he couldn’t care less. “That ship is cursed.”
“What are you on about?” Lincoln laughed.
“That ship... by this time next week - she is going to be at the bottom of the Atlantic.”
Several of the others laughed, but none louder or harder than Brady, who Sam had considered one of his best friends... up to now.
His eyes narrowed. “Of all people... I thought you’d be on my side.”
“I am!” Brady protested. “Only not when you’re talking like an old woman!”
“I know what I’m talking about!”
Brady laughed again. “Haven’t you heard, old bean? Not even God Himself could sink this ship!”
“And that’s why God Himself WILL sink her!”
Brady snorted and turned to his friends. “Behold the monk!”
Sam grabbed him by the lapels and spun him around. “I don’t care what you call me. If you board that ship, you. will. die.”
Brady laughed in his face. But a pair of boys-twins who had known Sam since the first day he arrived at Oxford and knew that sometimes he just knew things-looked at each other and abruptly stepped away from Brady.
“I’m begging you, old man,” Sam continued. “By all that you hold dearest, by all that’s holy, I adjure you. Don’t get on that ship.”
Brady patted his chest. “You, old son? Worry too damn much.” He turned and strode to the tender.
James sidled up to Sam. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Sam replied, looking around for a rope to try to lasso Brady and tie him up.
James ran after Brady, yelling for him to come back. Several others took off after him.
But James and one of the pursuers returned two minutes later-alone.
Sam looked up from the rope he was trying to wind up, and his heart sank. “Oh, no.”
James shook his head. “Sorry, old boy. Trawler sailed.”
Sam let loose with one of Dean’s favorite, very American curses. At the top of his lungs and in his native accent.
Heads swiveled. But at that point Sam didn’t care.
“Why the hell wouldn’t he listen to me?!”
“It’s Brady,” one of the twins said. “Old money-”
“And older ego,” they chorused.
Sam’s fists clenched. “Dammit, I’m a member of the King’s household! Doesn’t that mean anything?!”
“Not to some families,” James sighed. Then he looked sideways at Sam. “You’re absolutely certain that ship is going to sink?”
Sam nodded. “Absolutely.”
“But her sister... is safe?” He nodded at Olympic-the only one of the three sisters that would not sink, but would be cut up for scrap in 1935.
Sam nodded again. “Yeah. She’s good.”
“Then we take her.” James squared his shoulders. “Come on, then-there’s nothing we can do here. Let’s have some breakfast.”
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Sam objected.
“We’ve done all we can and there’s no use passing out from lack of food, is there?” What James had would one day be called hypoglycemia. All he knew was that if he didn’t eat regularly, he would be weak and incoherent, if not outright pass out.
Sam sighed. “You go. I need to wire my brother.”
But the lines were jammed with outgoing messages, so Sam gave up and went to watch the launch from Olympic’s deck. He could just make out Brady waving at him with a taunting smile, and it was all he could do not to throw up.
Cheers and whistles went up as the massive horn blew-and then the cheers turned to screams as the wash from her massive propellers snapped the tow line of a steamship named-ironically-New York, sending her drifting toward certain collision with Titanic’s stern.
The Titanic swung wide enough to give the Vulcan and the other stern tug-and a tender-the ability to move in and nudge the New York out of the way. There was a long pause, then the horn blew again and the cheering resumed-somewhat subdued-as the massive ship slid out of the harbor.
Sam buried his face in his hands and was still standing like that when James ran up to him.
“Sam?”
“They’ll think I’m crazy,” Sam groaned. “They don’t know that that wasn’t the collision I was talking about.”
“It... wasn’t?”
Sam shook his head miserably. “Iceberg.”
James squeezed his shoulder. “... okay. The... The lines are clearing now if you want to get your message out.”
Sam pulled himself together and nodded. “Thanks, old man.”
“And the blade arrived today. It should be installed tomorrow-we should be on the way to New York City day after tomorrow.”
Sam nodded again, unsure if he actually wanted to go through with the trip now.
Two hours later, a footman knocked on the door to Bertie’s apartments.
Dean answered the door. “Yeah?”
“Telegram for you, Mr. Winchester, sir. From your brother.” He held out a small silver tray.
Dean took the telegram and thanked the footman, then opened it-and swore when he saw the place of origin. Then he swore again when he saw the time and took off running for John’s apartments.
John opened the door once he heard the pounding footsteps. He took one look at Dean and flung the door open, forgetting he had his revolver in his hand. “Dean? What is it?”
“Telegram from Sam-he sent it from Southampton.”
“What?” John took it and read the message aloud. “‘Dean we threw a blade STOP Southampton for repairs STOP I saw her sail STOP I wasn’t aboard STOP knowing what I know I couldn’t do it STOP Brady, Lincoln, Nicholas and Cleves went STOP’” He crinkled the telegram and recited the last line. “‘I couldn’t stop them STOP But I am all right STOP Sam Full Stop.’”
Dean swore again-but this time it came out more like a sob.
An unexpected voice spoke from the doorway. “T-T-Train leaves... for th-there in... t-two hours.”
“Thanks, Bertie,” father and son chorused and flew into action.
“You comin’?” Dean asked Bertie as John grabbed his jacket and began loading the revolver.
“B-Better.” Bertie smirked. “C-Called. B-bought three t-tickets.”
Dean grinned, clapped his old friend on the shoulder, and raced back to get his own jacket and the handgun he’d gotten for Christmas-the same pearl-handled M1911 that John had planned to get him for his 16th birthday.1
And then they were off, with Bertie by their side.
Only Dean noticed the handle of the pearl-handled M1911 that was the twin to his own tucked into the prince’s jacket.
When they got to the Southampton docks, Bertie took the lead, knowing the crowds would part for the Duke of York. They found their way to Olympic in next to no time.
Sam was in first class and they found him easily. He opened the door and all but pulled Dean inside, hugging him tight. Dean could feel him shaking.
When he let go of Dean, John stormed over and hugged Sam just as tight, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam hugged his dad back.
But when John finally stepped back to arm’s length, his first words were almost painfully predictable: “Why the hell didn’t you stop them?!”
“I tried!” Sam bellowed back. “I tried EVERYTHING!”
“Dad,” Dean interrupted. “Some things just can’t be changed. At least, Sam Winchester’s name wasn’t on the list. Either list.”
“L-l-l-list?” Bertie asked-and that was the first moment Dean realized that Bertie was still in earshot.
“List of the living and the dead,” Sam blurted out.
“G-g-good Lord,” Bertie breathed and pushed past John to hug Sam himself.
Sam clung to him, eyebrow rising when he felt the gun.
Dean shook his head slightly-Don’t ask.
Sam nodded slightly-I won’t.
James returned then and looked around in shock. “Winchester? What’s going on, old man?”
Sam pulled back, and he saw the Duke. “James...” Sam smiled. “This is my family.”
Bertie smiled, though he blushed a bit.
“My father... my brother Dean... and I think you know Bertie.”
James bowed. “Your Highness.”
Bertie nodded. “J-James.”
John looked James over. “You decided not to go on the Titanic, huh?”
James nodded. “Sam was quite insistent.”
“How so?”
“He said people would die. We tried to get Brady and his group... but they were adamant.”
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You still going on to New York?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” Sam sighed.
“I’ve had a bad feeling about this trip this whole time,” Dean confessed. “Besides, we’ve been to New York before.”
Sam sighed again and turned to James. “Would you hate me forever if I just went home? This... this is too much.”
“I can’t say I understand,” James replied. “But I do know you’ve been in a state all day, and if it’s bad enough that the Duke of York came down himself... I suppose you’d best go home.”
Sam shook his friend’s hand. “Thank you.”
“We’ll let you know what we find, eh? So you don’t have to wonder.”
Sam nodded and lifted his pack-he never quite got out of the habit of living out of packs-and followed his family off the massive White Star Line ship.
The car was silent all the way back to the train station. But once John had gone off to get a ticket for Sam, Dean nudged his brother. “What?”
“What?” he asked.
“You’re thinkin’ too loud, Sasquatch. C’mon, spill.”
“About what?”
Dean’s eyes narrowed.
Sam sighed. “Dad’s right. I shoulda tried harder.”
“You did everything you could.”
“I could have knocked them out. I could have called a bobby and had them arrested. I could have....”
“D-died,” Bertie said softly.
Sam looked miserable. “If it would have saved my friends-”
“Hey,” Dean interrupted. “Don’t talk like that.”
“So many dead, Dean. So many...”
Dean grabbed him by the shoulders. “You listen to me. This was not your fault. And hell, it sounds like you saved at least James. That’s better than nothing.”
“... and David... and the twins....”
“There you go, see? You did save somebody.”
He took a deep breath-and nodded.
“Remember ‘City on the Edge of Forever’? Can’t always save everyone.”
“Yeah... I know.”
Dean pulled Sam into a tight hug. Neither realized that John had returned or how long he’d been standing within earshot until he rubbed Sam’s back gently. When Sam looked at him, all he said was, “Here’s your ticket, son. Let’s go home.”
Sam nodded.
The brothers and Bertie stayed at Sandringham until the terrible news finally arrived five days later.
Dean took the telegram to John first. “I asked about Jacobs. He’s on the dead list.”
John sighed. “Looks like you were right. What about Sam’s friends?”
“Brady and his best mate are dead.”
“The other two made it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You told him yet?”
“No, sir. Thought it’d be best coming from us both.”
John nodded slowly. “Any word from Olympic?”
“Yeah. They’re nearly to New York.”
“Good.” John glanced over the telegram and sighed. “We’d better tell him.”
“Let’s go.”
They found Sam in the billiard room with Bertie.
“What is it?” Sam asked. “It’s happened?”
Dean and John nodded. “Two of your friends made it,” John said. “Brady and his pal didn’t.”
Sam’s eyes closed and his shoulders slumped.
“Don’t blame yourself, son. You saved the ones you could.”
“Doesn’t feel like enough.”
“Never does,” John said quietly.
Sam’s eyes swung to his father. “... how do you get over it?”
John shook his head. “You don’t. You get through it. You just... keep going, doing what you know you need to do.”
“Are you okay with it?” Sam asked. “Never being able to get to what killed Mom? Stuck here?”
“It’s gotten easier. I’ve... been tracking it as best I can. But I do have other work to do here, other lives to save. And I’ve come to realize that since it’s... lying low now, apparently, we’ve got time. Worse comes to worst, you boys can take over that job from me.”
“Worse comes to worst,” Dean began, and they finished, “We will.”
John noticed Bertie was nodding. “Now, Bertie,” he cautioned, “this fight doesn’t concern you.”
“Who said... I’m g-going to fight?”
John frowned. “What do you mean?”
His shoulders squared and he pointed at himself. “I’m a d-duke . You c-can... have resources.”
John ran a hand over his nose and mouth. Then he nodded. “If we need ’em, I’ll let you know. Thanks.”
Bertie nodded.
Meanwhile, in New York, a badly shaken Lincoln and Nicholas stopped in at a small restaurant and ordered coffee and something to eat. They sat in silence a while, just looking at each other.
“There... There was no way he knew that,” Nicholas gasped. “No way on God’s green Earth....”
“I know,” Lincoln breathed. “After that near miss in the harbor, I thought-well, we all thought, but Brady said it: ‘There, Winchester’s just an old fusspot! We don’t want him along spoiling the fun!’” Those last three words came out in a near sob.
“Some fun, huh?” The words were sarcastic.
“‘God Himself will sink her,’ Winchester said-how? How the devil did he know?”
“But he knew... somehow he knew,” Nicholas said, his voice trembling. “Did... did you see Brady’s face? He was.... He looked in shock,” he finished when he could.
Lincoln shook his head. “I was too busy trying to help poor old Cleves. It was like... he just... he just let go.”
“He said something to you at the last, didn’t he?”
Lincoln nodded. “He said, ‘T-tell Sam... if anyone ought to be sorry... it’s I.’”
Nicholas sighed. “We’d best wire him, then.”
“Yes, we had. Food first, though. And after... I... I need a drink.”
“Hear, hear.”
The waitress returned with their food then. “Don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but were you boys on the Titanic?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nicholas shuddered. “Beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to feel warm again.”
She set down their plates and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, listen, I get off in a couple of hours. Why don’t I arrange that drink for you and, ah... maybe see if a friend and I can’t warm you boys up, huh?”
Nicholas smiled a little. “That sounds... wonderful.”
Lincoln nodded his agreement.
She smiled warmly and pinched Nicholas’ cheek. “Okay, then. I’ll meet you out back. If I’m not there, just ask for Meg.”
As she moved away, Nicholas said, “God is smiling on us today!”
Lincoln laughed a little. “So it seems!”
Meg’s smile turned to a smirk as she neared the counter. If those idiots only knew....
Once she was in the back, she went to see her father and pass on what she’d overheard about Sam Winchester’s uncanny prediction. “Do you think....”
“I think it’s one of those uncanny coincidences that pop up from time to time,” he replied. “Remember when we met Sir John Winchester in the Middle Ages with his two sons?”
“Well, yes, but....”
“This is the same-a boy with the same name as the Vessel who is also psychic. It does happen.”
“But you’ve got to admit it’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“My dear, I don’t have to admit anything.”
“What about that exorcism ten years ago, when precious little Ruby got kicked out of the Prince of Wales’ nanny? She swears up and down the hunter looked like one of Michael’s vessels!”
He scoffed. “Ruby has an imagination larger than a child’s.”
“Father....”
“Child, enough.”
“Aren’t you concerned at all?”
“No. It’s a century too early-the Vessels’ grandfather isn’t even a gleam!”
She opened her mouth to protest again, but his eyes flashed yellow in impatience, and she sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll find out what I can about this Sam Winchester, then, just in case he’s a threat.”
“You do that.” He smirked. “And I think you’ll discover another impotent psychic who’s no threat at all.”
“We’ll see,” she muttered and took off to find Ruby. She didn’t think she could trust any of her meatsuit’s human friends, but Ruby might enjoy tag-teaming these two rubes who thought they were smart just because they’d studied at Oxford.
None of the demons knew then that when Azazel finally found the right spell to contact Lucifer and made his way into the priest serving St. Mary’s Convent in 1972, someone would be waiting for him.
He walked into the nave of the chapel, ignoring the two old men sitting in the pews in attitudes of prayer. And they seemed to ignore him until he got nearly to the altar. But then the silence of the chapel was broken by the distinctive sound of a revolver being cocked.
He froze, turning slowly to face them.
“How’s it goin’, Azazel?” said the older man with a smirk.
Azazel frowned, then his eyes narrowed. “... This is impossible.”
“Not exactly,” replied the younger, who was still 80 if he was a day. Then he flicked open a lighter and tossed it on the ground, igniting a devil’s trap drawn in holy oil.
“You’re the Winchester brothers,” Azazel snarled. “You’re not even born yet, and here you are, old men.”
“Funny how that works, huh?” Dean returned, his smirk never wavering.
“How does that work, anyway?” Azazel asked, trying to keep them talking so he could find a way out of the trap.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam. “What matters is that you’re caught-and you’re dead. Do it, Dean.”
“Mightier men than you have tried to kill me before,” Azazel smirked. “All have failed.”
“Hasta la vista, baby,” Dean growled and fired.
Azazel gasped as the bullet plowed into his chest. He seized, lighting up from the inside.
“No,” he breathed. “That gun was lost....”
“And now it’s found,” Sam quipped.
“Dude,” Dean groaned, “just ’cause we’re in a church doesn’t mean you hafta sing ‘Amazing Grace’!”
Sam grinned unrepentantly. And that was the last sight Azazel ever saw.
“... it’s over,” Sam sighed as the fire flickered and went out, seemingly of its own accord.
“About damn time,” Dean agreed, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet. “You wanna swing through Lawrence on the way back to Colorado?”
Sam nodded, standing with a fluidity that showed arthritis had not yet touched his knees.
“And what do you wanna do after that? Head back to Lilibet?”
There wasn’t a second’s hesitation. “Definitely.”
“Bertie’d be proud of her.”
Sam grinned as they made their way up the aisle. “He is.”
Dean shot his brother a sidelong glance. “And just how do you know that?”
“I know.”
“Sammy, Bertie’s been gone....”
“Twenty years.”
“So how do you know what he’s thinking now?”
“He’s here.”
Dean frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
And a cool hand curled around the back of his neck.
Dean froze. “Bertie, what....”
“Resources,” Sam said suddenly. “He said you’d have all the resources he could give.”
“Meaning?”
“Dean, your strength has always been in your family.”
“So? What’s that got to do with being haunted by the King of England?”
“He’s family.”
That cool hand tightened just a bit.
Dean sighed. “Bertie, you didn’t have to....”
And he heard a whispered Wanted to. Still w-want to.
Dean swallowed hard, torn between telling him off and threatening to salt and burn his bones if he didn’t move on or... just letting him stick around for however long he and Sam had left.
Will be... waiting. B-best friends. And the touch withdrew.
“Always, dude,” Dean replied softly. “Always.”
1 The M1911 did indeed begin production in 1911.
Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax
As soon as he watched the car leave Sandringham to take Sam to the train to Southampton in April, Dean went in to see if John needed anything. He found him in the library researching. “What’s up?”
“Got a hunt,” John replied. “Got a suspect, too. Can’t tell if it’s a were or a Spring-heeled Jack or what, though. Probably gonna have to tail him to find out.”
“Tail him where?”
The reply was a little distracted. “Southampton. Looks like he’s planning to flee the country before Scotland Yard can catch up to him.
“When’s the sail date?”
“Waiting for confirmation from the Yard, but best guess is the 10th.” John paused, blinked, and looked at Dean then. “Why?”
Dean shook his head. “You’re not tailing that man, Dad.”
John frowned. “Yes, I am, son. I can’t let him kill again.”
“Dad - there’s only one ship that sailed from Southampton on the 10th of April. Titanic.”
The color drained from John’s face as he swore. “I... I forgot. But Dean, I can’t run the risk that he’ll escape.”
“Gimme the name.”
“Ciaran Jacobs.”
“... had to be under an alias. Any aliases?”
“John Baker....”
Dean swore.
“What?”
“Engine crew. No information known. Died in the sinking.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
John frowned. “Engine crew-he’d be... killed in the explosion? Drowned in the initial wave?”
“Depends on where he is.”
John rubbed the back of his neck. “Not many things could survive something like that, and the things that generally could aren’t on my suspect list-but dammit, I have to be sure. Maybe if I go, I can-”
“-die.”
“In the line of duty, son.”
“Unnecessarily!”
John looked away.
“If I have to get His Majesty to tuck you under the throne and sit on you, you are not going!”
That startled a laugh out of John, which got a small smile from Dean. Dean rarely went against his father - but when he did, he was as fiery as Sam was.
“I just... I have to be sure,” John repeated quietly.
“No, you don’t. Not about this. About this, you have to trust me.”
John looked at Dean steadily for a long moment. Then he sighed and shut the folder in front of him. “All right, son. I’ll trust you.”
Dean sighed. “Thank you.”
John nodded once. Then, after a pause, he asked, “How the hell do you remember?”
“Remember?” Dean frowned.
“The names and fates, all of that.”
Dean shrugged. “If I read it and I’m interested in it, I remember it.”
“Wh-What’s going on?” came from the doorway. Bertie stood there, arms crossed. “I c-come home... f-for a week - and you t-two are f-f-f-fighting!”
John sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about, Bertie. Besides, the fight’s over, and Dean won.”
“G-Good. Could’ve t-told you that’s... that’s how it’d en-end up. D-Dean always wins.”
Dean barked a laugh.
And John cracked a wide smile. “That he does!”
Still grinning, Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
The first sight of Olympic at the Southampton dock gave Sam the shivers, since her sister was being fitted out right next to her. He never did explain to his classmates why he was crying softly when he came to his room. They jibed him mercilessly.
But fate had a wicked hand to play. About two days out of port, the Olympic threw a propeller blade, forcing a turn back. They arrived in the Southampton dry dock April 8.
And the announcement came that whoever wanted to could transfer to Titanic if they wanted to get to New York faster. Most of the young men in Sam’s group were eager, especially Brady and Cleves. But Sam adamantly put his foot down. “No. No! How many ways do I have to say it? No, no, no, no, NO.”
“Oh, come off it, Winchester,” Cleves scoffed. “Thought you were as keen to get to New York as the rest of us.”
“Not on that shit, I’m not!” Sam had a distinct feeling he’s mispronounced ‘ship’ but at that moment he couldn’t care less. “That ship is cursed.”
“What are you on about?” Lincoln laughed.
“That ship... by this time next week - she is going to be at the bottom of the Atlantic.”
Several of the others laughed, but none louder or harder than Brady, who Sam had considered one of his best friends... up to now.
His eyes narrowed. “Of all people... I thought you’d be on my side.”
“I am!” Brady protested. “Only not when you’re talking like an old woman!”
“I know what I’m talking about!”
Brady laughed again. “Haven’t you heard, old bean? Not even God Himself could sink this ship!”
“And that’s why God Himself WILL sink her!”
Brady snorted and turned to his friends. “Behold the monk!”
Sam grabbed him by the lapels and spun him around. “I don’t care what you call me. If you board that ship, you. will. die.”
Brady laughed in his face. But a pair of boys-twins who had known Sam since the first day he arrived at Oxford and knew that sometimes he just knew things-looked at each other and abruptly stepped away from Brady.
“I’m begging you, old man,” Sam continued. “By all that you hold dearest, by all that’s holy, I adjure you. Don’t get on that ship.”
Brady patted his chest. “You, old son? Worry too damn much.” He turned and strode to the tender.
James sidled up to Sam. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Sam replied, looking around for a rope to try to lasso Brady and tie him up.
James ran after Brady, yelling for him to come back. Several others took off after him.
But James and one of the pursuers returned two minutes later-alone.
Sam looked up from the rope he was trying to wind up, and his heart sank. “Oh, no.”
James shook his head. “Sorry, old boy. Trawler sailed.”
Sam let loose with one of Dean’s favorite, very American curses. At the top of his lungs and in his native accent.
Heads swiveled. But at that point Sam didn’t care.
“Why the hell wouldn’t he listen to me?!”
“It’s Brady,” one of the twins said. “Old money-”
“And older ego,” they chorused.
Sam’s fists clenched. “Dammit, I’m a member of the King’s household! Doesn’t that mean anything?!”
“Not to some families,” James sighed. Then he looked sideways at Sam. “You’re absolutely certain that ship is going to sink?”
Sam nodded. “Absolutely.”
“But her sister... is safe?” He nodded at Olympic-the only one of the three sisters that would not sink, but would be cut up for scrap in 1935.
Sam nodded again. “Yeah. She’s good.”
“Then we take her.” James squared his shoulders. “Come on, then-there’s nothing we can do here. Let’s have some breakfast.”
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Sam objected.
“We’ve done all we can and there’s no use passing out from lack of food, is there?” What James had would one day be called hypoglycemia. All he knew was that if he didn’t eat regularly, he would be weak and incoherent, if not outright pass out.
Sam sighed. “You go. I need to wire my brother.”
But the lines were jammed with outgoing messages, so Sam gave up and went to watch the launch from Olympic’s deck. He could just make out Brady waving at him with a taunting smile, and it was all he could do not to throw up.
Cheers and whistles went up as the massive horn blew-and then the cheers turned to screams as the wash from her massive propellers snapped the tow line of a steamship named-ironically-New York, sending her drifting toward certain collision with Titanic’s stern.
The Titanic swung wide enough to give the Vulcan and the other stern tug-and a tender-the ability to move in and nudge the New York out of the way. There was a long pause, then the horn blew again and the cheering resumed-somewhat subdued-as the massive ship slid out of the harbor.
Sam buried his face in his hands and was still standing like that when James ran up to him.
“Sam?”
“They’ll think I’m crazy,” Sam groaned. “They don’t know that that wasn’t the collision I was talking about.”
“It... wasn’t?”
Sam shook his head miserably. “Iceberg.”
James squeezed his shoulder. “... okay. The... The lines are clearing now if you want to get your message out.”
Sam pulled himself together and nodded. “Thanks, old man.”
“And the blade arrived today. It should be installed tomorrow-we should be on the way to New York City day after tomorrow.”
Sam nodded again, unsure if he actually wanted to go through with the trip now.
Two hours later, a footman knocked on the door to Bertie’s apartments.
Dean answered the door. “Yeah?”
“Telegram for you, Mr. Winchester, sir. From your brother.” He held out a small silver tray.
Dean took the telegram and thanked the footman, then opened it-and swore when he saw the place of origin. Then he swore again when he saw the time and took off running for John’s apartments.
John opened the door once he heard the pounding footsteps. He took one look at Dean and flung the door open, forgetting he had his revolver in his hand. “Dean? What is it?”
“Telegram from Sam-he sent it from Southampton.”
“What?” John took it and read the message aloud. “‘Dean we threw a blade STOP Southampton for repairs STOP I saw her sail STOP I wasn’t aboard STOP knowing what I know I couldn’t do it STOP Brady, Lincoln, Nicholas and Cleves went STOP’” He crinkled the telegram and recited the last line. “‘I couldn’t stop them STOP But I am all right STOP Sam Full Stop.’”
Dean swore again-but this time it came out more like a sob.
An unexpected voice spoke from the doorway. “T-T-Train leaves... for th-there in... t-two hours.”
“Thanks, Bertie,” father and son chorused and flew into action.
“You comin’?” Dean asked Bertie as John grabbed his jacket and began loading the revolver.
“B-Better.” Bertie smirked. “C-Called. B-bought three t-tickets.”
Dean grinned, clapped his old friend on the shoulder, and raced back to get his own jacket and the handgun he’d gotten for Christmas-the same pearl-handled M1911 that John had planned to get him for his 16th birthday.1
And then they were off, with Bertie by their side.
Only Dean noticed the handle of the pearl-handled M1911 that was the twin to his own tucked into the prince’s jacket.
When they got to the Southampton docks, Bertie took the lead, knowing the crowds would part for the Duke of York. They found their way to Olympic in next to no time.
Sam was in first class and they found him easily. He opened the door and all but pulled Dean inside, hugging him tight. Dean could feel him shaking.
When he let go of Dean, John stormed over and hugged Sam just as tight, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam hugged his dad back.
But when John finally stepped back to arm’s length, his first words were almost painfully predictable: “Why the hell didn’t you stop them?!”
“I tried!” Sam bellowed back. “I tried EVERYTHING!”
“Dad,” Dean interrupted. “Some things just can’t be changed. At least, Sam Winchester’s name wasn’t on the list. Either list.”
“L-l-l-list?” Bertie asked-and that was the first moment Dean realized that Bertie was still in earshot.
“List of the living and the dead,” Sam blurted out.
“G-g-good Lord,” Bertie breathed and pushed past John to hug Sam himself.
Sam clung to him, eyebrow rising when he felt the gun.
Dean shook his head slightly-Don’t ask.
Sam nodded slightly-I won’t.
James returned then and looked around in shock. “Winchester? What’s going on, old man?”
Sam pulled back, and he saw the Duke. “James...” Sam smiled. “This is my family.”
Bertie smiled, though he blushed a bit.
“My father... my brother Dean... and I think you know Bertie.”
James bowed. “Your Highness.”
Bertie nodded. “J-James.”
John looked James over. “You decided not to go on the Titanic, huh?”
James nodded. “Sam was quite insistent.”
“How so?”
“He said people would die. We tried to get Brady and his group... but they were adamant.”
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You still going on to New York?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” Sam sighed.
“I’ve had a bad feeling about this trip this whole time,” Dean confessed. “Besides, we’ve been to New York before.”
Sam sighed again and turned to James. “Would you hate me forever if I just went home? This... this is too much.”
“I can’t say I understand,” James replied. “But I do know you’ve been in a state all day, and if it’s bad enough that the Duke of York came down himself... I suppose you’d best go home.”
Sam shook his friend’s hand. “Thank you.”
“We’ll let you know what we find, eh? So you don’t have to wonder.”
Sam nodded and lifted his pack-he never quite got out of the habit of living out of packs-and followed his family off the massive White Star Line ship.
The car was silent all the way back to the train station. But once John had gone off to get a ticket for Sam, Dean nudged his brother. “What?”
“What?” he asked.
“You’re thinkin’ too loud, Sasquatch. C’mon, spill.”
“About what?”
Dean’s eyes narrowed.
Sam sighed. “Dad’s right. I shoulda tried harder.”
“You did everything you could.”
“I could have knocked them out. I could have called a bobby and had them arrested. I could have....”
“D-died,” Bertie said softly.
Sam looked miserable. “If it would have saved my friends-”
“Hey,” Dean interrupted. “Don’t talk like that.”
“So many dead, Dean. So many...”
Dean grabbed him by the shoulders. “You listen to me. This was not your fault. And hell, it sounds like you saved at least James. That’s better than nothing.”
“... and David... and the twins....”
“There you go, see? You did save somebody.”
He took a deep breath-and nodded.
“Remember ‘City on the Edge of Forever’? Can’t always save everyone.”
“Yeah... I know.”
Dean pulled Sam into a tight hug. Neither realized that John had returned or how long he’d been standing within earshot until he rubbed Sam’s back gently. When Sam looked at him, all he said was, “Here’s your ticket, son. Let’s go home.”
Sam nodded.
The brothers and Bertie stayed at Sandringham until the terrible news finally arrived five days later.
Dean took the telegram to John first. “I asked about Jacobs. He’s on the dead list.”
John sighed. “Looks like you were right. What about Sam’s friends?”
“Brady and his best mate are dead.”
“The other two made it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You told him yet?”
“No, sir. Thought it’d be best coming from us both.”
John nodded slowly. “Any word from Olympic?”
“Yeah. They’re nearly to New York.”
“Good.” John glanced over the telegram and sighed. “We’d better tell him.”
“Let’s go.”
They found Sam in the billiard room with Bertie.
“What is it?” Sam asked. “It’s happened?”
Dean and John nodded. “Two of your friends made it,” John said. “Brady and his pal didn’t.”
Sam’s eyes closed and his shoulders slumped.
“Don’t blame yourself, son. You saved the ones you could.”
“Doesn’t feel like enough.”
“Never does,” John said quietly.
Sam’s eyes swung to his father. “... how do you get over it?”
John shook his head. “You don’t. You get through it. You just... keep going, doing what you know you need to do.”
“Are you okay with it?” Sam asked. “Never being able to get to what killed Mom? Stuck here?”
“It’s gotten easier. I’ve... been tracking it as best I can. But I do have other work to do here, other lives to save. And I’ve come to realize that since it’s... lying low now, apparently, we’ve got time. Worse comes to worst, you boys can take over that job from me.”
“Worse comes to worst,” Dean began, and they finished, “We will.”
John noticed Bertie was nodding. “Now, Bertie,” he cautioned, “this fight doesn’t concern you.”
“Who said... I’m g-going to fight?”
John frowned. “What do you mean?”
His shoulders squared and he pointed at himself. “I’m a d-duke . You c-can... have resources.”
John ran a hand over his nose and mouth. Then he nodded. “If we need ’em, I’ll let you know. Thanks.”
Bertie nodded.
Meanwhile, in New York, a badly shaken Lincoln and Nicholas stopped in at a small restaurant and ordered coffee and something to eat. They sat in silence a while, just looking at each other.
“There... There was no way he knew that,” Nicholas gasped. “No way on God’s green Earth....”
“I know,” Lincoln breathed. “After that near miss in the harbor, I thought-well, we all thought, but Brady said it: ‘There, Winchester’s just an old fusspot! We don’t want him along spoiling the fun!’” Those last three words came out in a near sob.
“Some fun, huh?” The words were sarcastic.
“‘God Himself will sink her,’ Winchester said-how? How the devil did he know?”
“But he knew... somehow he knew,” Nicholas said, his voice trembling. “Did... did you see Brady’s face? He was.... He looked in shock,” he finished when he could.
Lincoln shook his head. “I was too busy trying to help poor old Cleves. It was like... he just... he just let go.”
“He said something to you at the last, didn’t he?”
Lincoln nodded. “He said, ‘T-tell Sam... if anyone ought to be sorry... it’s I.’”
Nicholas sighed. “We’d best wire him, then.”
“Yes, we had. Food first, though. And after... I... I need a drink.”
“Hear, hear.”
The waitress returned with their food then. “Don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but were you boys on the Titanic?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nicholas shuddered. “Beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to feel warm again.”
She set down their plates and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, listen, I get off in a couple of hours. Why don’t I arrange that drink for you and, ah... maybe see if a friend and I can’t warm you boys up, huh?”
Nicholas smiled a little. “That sounds... wonderful.”
Lincoln nodded his agreement.
She smiled warmly and pinched Nicholas’ cheek. “Okay, then. I’ll meet you out back. If I’m not there, just ask for Meg.”
As she moved away, Nicholas said, “God is smiling on us today!”
Lincoln laughed a little. “So it seems!”
Meg’s smile turned to a smirk as she neared the counter. If those idiots only knew....
Once she was in the back, she went to see her father and pass on what she’d overheard about Sam Winchester’s uncanny prediction. “Do you think....”
“I think it’s one of those uncanny coincidences that pop up from time to time,” he replied. “Remember when we met Sir John Winchester in the Middle Ages with his two sons?”
“Well, yes, but....”
“This is the same-a boy with the same name as the Vessel who is also psychic. It does happen.”
“But you’ve got to admit it’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“My dear, I don’t have to admit anything.”
“What about that exorcism ten years ago, when precious little Ruby got kicked out of the Prince of Wales’ nanny? She swears up and down the hunter looked like one of Michael’s vessels!”
He scoffed. “Ruby has an imagination larger than a child’s.”
“Father....”
“Child, enough.”
“Aren’t you concerned at all?”
“No. It’s a century too early-the Vessels’ grandfather isn’t even a gleam!”
She opened her mouth to protest again, but his eyes flashed yellow in impatience, and she sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll find out what I can about this Sam Winchester, then, just in case he’s a threat.”
“You do that.” He smirked. “And I think you’ll discover another impotent psychic who’s no threat at all.”
“We’ll see,” she muttered and took off to find Ruby. She didn’t think she could trust any of her meatsuit’s human friends, but Ruby might enjoy tag-teaming these two rubes who thought they were smart just because they’d studied at Oxford.
None of the demons knew then that when Azazel finally found the right spell to contact Lucifer and made his way into the priest serving St. Mary’s Convent in 1972, someone would be waiting for him.
He walked into the nave of the chapel, ignoring the two old men sitting in the pews in attitudes of prayer. And they seemed to ignore him until he got nearly to the altar. But then the silence of the chapel was broken by the distinctive sound of a revolver being cocked.
He froze, turning slowly to face them.
“How’s it goin’, Azazel?” said the older man with a smirk.
Azazel frowned, then his eyes narrowed. “... This is impossible.”
“Not exactly,” replied the younger, who was still 80 if he was a day. Then he flicked open a lighter and tossed it on the ground, igniting a devil’s trap drawn in holy oil.
“You’re the Winchester brothers,” Azazel snarled. “You’re not even born yet, and here you are, old men.”
“Funny how that works, huh?” Dean returned, his smirk never wavering.
“How does that work, anyway?” Azazel asked, trying to keep them talking so he could find a way out of the trap.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam. “What matters is that you’re caught-and you’re dead. Do it, Dean.”
“Mightier men than you have tried to kill me before,” Azazel smirked. “All have failed.”
“Hasta la vista, baby,” Dean growled and fired.
Azazel gasped as the bullet plowed into his chest. He seized, lighting up from the inside.
“No,” he breathed. “That gun was lost....”
“And now it’s found,” Sam quipped.
“Dude,” Dean groaned, “just ’cause we’re in a church doesn’t mean you hafta sing ‘Amazing Grace’!”
Sam grinned unrepentantly. And that was the last sight Azazel ever saw.
“... it’s over,” Sam sighed as the fire flickered and went out, seemingly of its own accord.
“About damn time,” Dean agreed, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet. “You wanna swing through Lawrence on the way back to Colorado?”
Sam nodded, standing with a fluidity that showed arthritis had not yet touched his knees.
“And what do you wanna do after that? Head back to Lilibet?”
There wasn’t a second’s hesitation. “Definitely.”
“Bertie’d be proud of her.”
Sam grinned as they made their way up the aisle. “He is.”
Dean shot his brother a sidelong glance. “And just how do you know that?”
“I know.”
“Sammy, Bertie’s been gone....”
“Twenty years.”
“So how do you know what he’s thinking now?”
“He’s here.”
Dean frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
And a cool hand curled around the back of his neck.
Dean froze. “Bertie, what....”
“Resources,” Sam said suddenly. “He said you’d have all the resources he could give.”
“Meaning?”
“Dean, your strength has always been in your family.”
“So? What’s that got to do with being haunted by the King of England?”
“He’s family.”
That cool hand tightened just a bit.
Dean sighed. “Bertie, you didn’t have to....”
And he heard a whispered Wanted to. Still w-want to.
Dean swallowed hard, torn between telling him off and threatening to salt and burn his bones if he didn’t move on or... just letting him stick around for however long he and Sam had left.
Will be... waiting. B-best friends. And the touch withdrew.
“Always, dude,” Dean replied softly. “Always.”
1 The M1911 did indeed begin production in 1911.