A Time to Seek 1/6
Series Master Post
Summary: Phase 1 of the Stanford Adventure Club's plan to save Sam Winchester involves locking the British Men of Letters out of the Kansas bunker and capturing Cuthbert Sinclair's hidden mansion as a second base of operations. That would be enough of a challenge on its own, but with unexpected reunions and stunning revelations waiting around every bend in the road, the Winchesters may find far more than they thought they were looking for.
A/N: This story contains references to, and potentially spoilers for, the first six episodes of SPN Season 1, Season 4’s “In the Beginning,” Season 5’s “My Bloody Valentine” and “Dark Side of the Moon,” Season 8’s “As Time Goes By,” Season 9’s “Blade Runners,” and Season 10’s “The Werther Project,” plus lore details revealed as late as Season 12 and some headcanon on my part as to what caused Cuthbert Sinclair’s definite turn to the dark side. The title is from Ecclesiastes 3:6 in the English Standard Version; you might be more familiar with Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 from the King James Version as sung by the Byrds in “Turn! Turn! Turn!”
Also, I would just like to point out that I established the concept of Zantabraxus being a fae queen in this AU in “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” and the idea of the Dyne goddess being an actual goddess in “Thicker than Water,” both of which I posted last June, long before the lore about Albia and Luheia (and possibly the Dyne goddess) being “immortal god queens” showed up in GG canon. Does that entitle me to Moxana points?
Many thanks to my awesome beta jennytork, who helped with the Latin as much as with the brainstorming, and to hells_half_acre for her invaluable SPN timeline!
A Time to Seek
By San Antonio Rose
Chapter 1
November 23, 2005
Lebanon, Kansas
“Dear Lord,” said Henry Winchester, shutting the file folder with a snap.
His grandson Sam looked up from the book he was scouring for information about angel vessels. “What?”
Henry waved the folder a little before setting it on the library table, next to the box marked Infamati et Obliterati in which he’d found it. “Cuthbert’s file.”
“Cuth-oh, Sinclair?”
Henry nodded. “I suppose knowing what you guys know about his affiliation with the Mongfish family should have been enough of a warning, but... then again, I’m not sure anything would. Maybe all it does is prepare me to believe it’s all true.”
Sam marked his place with a bookmark and gave Henry his full attention. “What did you find?”
“Well, some of it I already knew about-his suggestions for improving the warding on this bunker, for instance, and the fact that a lot of his proposals after the war were rejected. I knew he wanted to study monster biology in more detail, and I knew he had live specimens in his mansion... but not why. This says he’d been sent to infiltrate the SS and the Thule Society, and evidently he got further into the part than he should have.”
“The Thule Society?”
“Pseudoscientific group that gave Hitler and Himmler the pretext they needed to declare Germans the so-called master race and to declare other races, especially Jews, subhuman. They also delved deeply into the occult, experimenting with necromancy and such. That’s the group Saturn Heterodyne was involved with, and it looks like Cuthbert picked up some of his ideas. Well, his or Mengele’s.”
Sam shuddered. “So what was Sinclair doing?”
“Infection. Poisoning. Vivisection. Testing spell effects. Breeding. Cross-breeding.”
Sam swore, eyes widening. “That’s where Lucifer Mongfish got the idea!”
Henry blinked. “What?”
“I guess it was... fourteen years ago, nearly, when we rescued Tarvek Murphy and his cousin Violetta, he told Gil’s dad about another cousin of his named Martellus von Blitzengaard who was breeding werewolves. Turned out, von Blitzengaard was breeding way more than that, and he claimed it was a research project suggested to him by Lucifer Mongfish. But if Mongfish was getting that research from Sinclair, that would explain the scale-I mean, you can’t exactly breed thousands of humanoid test subjects in a hidden mansion without someone asking questions about how much food you’re buying.”
Henry tilted his head a little. “That’s a fair point. What happened to the monsters?”
Sam shook his head. “It took years to clean up that mess, and we’re still not sure we got all of them. In fact, that’s how the Adventure Club got started. Dad sent Dean after what looked like a were but turned out to be a pack of rabid skinwalkers that had escaped from von Blitzengaard’s ranch, and Gil, Tarvek, Ardsley, and Colette insisted on going with Dean as backup. And it’s a good thing they did, ’cause Gil saved Dean’s life.”
Henry sighed and shook his head in turn. “I really thought Cuthbert was my friend and that his expulsion was a misunderstanding. But whether he was behind von Blitzengaard’s enterprise or not... that’s not even the worst of it.”
“What could be worse than that?”
“There’s a grimoire called the Book of the Damned. Supposedly, it contains the darkest magic known to mankind. But it’s in code, and the key to breaking that code is in another codex, which is likewise encrypted. During the war, the Men of Letters came into possession of that codex, and Cuthbert was charged with securing it against use.” Henry ran a hand over his mouth. “He codenamed the project ‘Werther.’”
“As in the candy?”
“As in the Goethe novel, The Sorrows of Young Werther. It’s one of the most controversial works to come out of the Sturm und Drang movement. At the end of the book, the protagonist kills himself.”
Sam hissed.
“Cuthbert put this codex in a safe in a civilian house and warded it with curses so severe they drove the owners mad. Those poor people either killed each other or killed themselves. The safe itself is secured with a blood lock that opens only when filled with copious quantities of blood. Another Man of Letters bled out attempting to open it, and when the elders confronted Cuthbert, he said only that the man was on the right track.”
Sam swore again. “And was that when they expelled him?”
“Indeed.” Henry shook his head. “I can’t believe I was so wrong about him.”
“Hey, after finding out one of my best friends was possessed for almost three years and I never realized it? Trust me, I know how it feels.”
“No, Sam, this is worse. At least you know it wasn’t really your friend who attacked your girlfriend. This was my friend’s doing.” Henry paused. “Although I do know how you feel about Brady. Abaddon was possessing one of my best friends when she attacked us. Probably had been for several weeks, since the last case we worked before our final initiation. And I’d never spotted any difference in Josie’s behavior at all.”
In moments like this, Sam found it exceptionally hard to remember that Henry was his grandfather. Thanks to time travel, Henry was actually just over three years older than Dean, and right now, he looked even younger than that.
“Can I get you anything?” Sam offered. “Beer, whisky?”
Henry shook his head. “No. Thank you. I’ll... I’ll be all right.” He managed a weak smile.
Before Sam could press his offer, Dean and Zeetha came into the library. “Gil just called,” Dean announced, waving his phone. “Roads are supposed to get bad tonight, so they figure we should head on up there now.”
Sam nodded and closed his book. “Okay.”
“And Theo called a few minutes ago,” Zeetha added. “Monday was his first day working in ICU-and Brady was moved out to a regular room an hour before Theo came on duty. Then today, Brady checked out AMA.”
“What?!” Henry and Sam gasped.
“He was barely conscious on Sunday!” Sam continued.
Dean grimaced. “Yeah, well, apparently Zola found a hole in the security Theo tried to set up for him. They found needle marks in the med port of his IV line and some sort of foreign substance in the line itself, plus residue of a blue powder in his oxygen cannula. Chemical analysis hasn’t come back yet.”
“Blue powder,” Henry murmured. “Cuthbert used to keep a dish of blue powder on one of the end tables in his sitting room. I asked him about it once; he said it was for spells I wasn’t ready to learn yet.”
Sam huffed. “Yeah, like thrall, probably.”
Henry made a face.
“If I had to guess,” said Zeetha, “I’d say the stuff she injected in the IV line was some sort of healing potion, but probably one that creates dependence either on it or on the person administering it. That plus a light thrall spell would get Brady on his feet and leave him appearing to make free choices but still keep him completely under her control.”
Dean muttered something about Annie Wilkes.
Sam sighed heavily. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
Dean walked over and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Like Tarvek said, if they hadn’t used Brady, they’da used someone else. First we gotta stop this thing Azazel’s got cookin’, whatever the hell it is. Then maybe we can get Brady out ’fore it’s too late.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“Still no word from Jess?”
Sam shook his head. While the rest of the Adventure Club had been busy making phone calls and preparing to leave Palo Alto in the wake of demon-Brady’s attack on Jess Moore, Sam had written Jess a long letter of apology and explanation and asked Van von Mekkhan to deliver it to her. Van had done so just after the Winchesters had left town, but so far, Jess had neither called nor emailed, not even to say that she never wanted to see Sam again.
Dean rubbed Sam’s shoulder a little. “Theo said Sleipnir ran into her at the hospital the other night, took her out for coffee and had a long talk with her, but he didn’t know any more than that.”
Sam nodded and sighed again. “Thanks. Has Gil heard from Tarvek?”
“Yeah, they got in late last night. Turns out the hunt at Blackwater Ridge was a wendigo. They ganked it just fine. But Dad’s not there, never was.”
“A wendigo? In Colorado?”
“Search me, dude. At least Tarvek’s had some experience with the damn things, thanks to Pastor Jim. Colette almost shot it before he could stop her.”
Sam huffed and shook his head. “What the hell, Dad?”
“Yeah, no kiddin’. Gil said they took another hunt in Wisconsin on the way to Blue Earth, but still no sign of Dad, and Pastor Jim hasn’t heard from him since he went to Jericho.”
“And Ash?”
“Nada.”
Sam huffed again.
“I still don’t understand,” said Henry. “Why would John be hiding from you?”
“If we knew that,” Dean replied, grabbing Dad’s leather jacket from the chair next to Sam, “we wouldn’t be spending Thanksgiving in Beetleburg.”
The four Winchesters still hadn’t worked out a completely comfortable seating arrangement for when they were all in the car together, but fortunately, Henry had decided he wanted to spend this two-hour trip quizzing Zeetha about Vietnam and the state of the fae kingdoms in Southeast Asia. So the two of them sat in the back and talked, and Sam sat in the front with Dean and filled him in on what he’d learned about angel vessels so far. There wasn’t much that was particularly helpful yet, but the book did confirm that the... capacity, so to speak, was passed down through certain bloodlines and that there were rare instances of vessels who’d never accepted possession nevertheless spontaneously speaking in Enochian, the language of the angels, under the influence of magic. The one named example had been a Winchester whose mother had been a Campbell.
Dean frowned at that. “Wait, so there’s somethin’ funky on Mom’s side of the family, too?”
“That’s what it sounds like,” Sam confirmed. “The book said there’s no record of a Campbell ever having been a vessel, but the researchers thought there might be something else in the Campbell bloodline that... I dunno, strengthens the vessel gene or something. This was, like, late Renaissance; they didn’t have the technology back then to investigate it in more detail. In any case, the researchers recommended that the Letters forbid any further marriages between the Winchesters and the Campbells.”
“Just for that?”
“Well, that and apparently the Campbells were hunters.”
Dean stared at him. “Seriously?”
“At least back then, yeah. I dunno if it was the whole clan, whether they’re still hunting, anything like that. Might have been bias against the Scots, too; hard to tell.”
Frowning, Dean turned his attention back to the road but drummed on the steering wheel a little as he thought. “Bet that’s one reason Hell wanted the Letters shut down before Dad was old enough to join. If he’d stayed in Normal, he never woulda met Mom.”
“Unless he went to college at KU, and even then....”
“No guarantee he woulda fallen for her, and if he had....”
“The Letters probably would have tried to stop the marriage. But on the other hand, just killing the Letters wouldn’t guarantee anything, either. I mean, I’m not saying it’s not a reason, but....”
“Yeah, no, I get it.” Dean drummed on the steering wheel again, frowning and chewing on his lip. Then he sighed, shook his head, and apparently stuffed whatever questions and conclusions he had into a different compartment to deal with later. “So. What else?”
Sam suppressed a sigh and rattled off all the general facts he’d learned so far, especially about vessels’ physiology. That led to some interesting but not ultimately useful discussion about various injuries and ailments the brothers had had in the past, including the severity of the demon-induced mono and measles that had kept both of them off their feet for extended periods back in high school. They were still about thirty minutes away from Beetleburg when Sam finally got around to what he’d read about the mechanics of possession, most notably the fact that a small portion of the angel’s grace was usually left behind in the vessel when the angel departed.
It was a good thing the road ahead was straight, clear, and not yet icy. Dean froze and turned pale.
“... Dean?” Sam prompted. When Dean didn’t respond, he tried again. “Dean, what is it?”
“Nothin’, Sam,” Dean replied so quietly Sam almost didn’t hear him.
“No, it’s not nothing. C’mon.”
Henry shifted in the back seat, but Zeetha quickly asked him something Sam didn’t quite catch, drawing his attention away from Dean again.
“What’d we look like?” Dean finally asked.
The question threw Sam. “What?”
“That night. The four of us.”
“Uh. I... I don’t... b-big. Not like you. But it was only, like, two seconds before you un-merged; I barely even had time to register that you were there. And you were backlit, so I didn’t... I mean, I couldn’t see what color your hair was or anything.”
“Did we have wings?”
“I... no. I don’t think so. If you did, they didn’t register, or maybe they weren’t visible.”
Dean nodded slowly. “And since then?”
“Nothing like when Gil and Agatha got married. I mean, your eyes aren’t... any different.”
Dean’s shoulders relaxed a little as he let out a tiny silent sigh.
“You think... they left something behind?”
Dean nodded a little. “Not like with Zeetha, but... yeah. I’ve noticed some stuff. Thought I was imagining things.” He took a deep breath. “Gil’s listening.”
“What?!”
“Think it’s stronger with him ’cause he’s blood-Zeetha’s brother, I mean.” Dean paused. “Says Agatha can’t really hear anything, just... like, behind a closed door at the far end of the hall.”
Sam felt an uncomfortably familiar pang that he was never sure what to call. Sure, he’d wanted out of the family business, wanted to make his own way in the world, have his own friends and his own loves and his own life. But more than ever, he realized he didn’t want that to come at the expense of the bond he shared with Dean. While he did love his in-laws... knowing they had a bond of their own with Dean that Sam couldn’t share, one that went beyond the ties of friendship and marriage... he felt left out rather than independent. And knowing the four-way merge had happened only because Sam and Jess had been in danger, because Sam had left his guard down long enough for the demon to ward his apartment against his family and they’d had no other way to get to him, didn’t help.
“What was it like?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Dean sighed. “Hard to describe; not like I really took the time to think about it. Weird. Full. Different.” He paused briefly. “Kinda good, if I’m honest. Not like with just Zeetha... y’know, we were all focused on gettin’ past the wards, gettin’ to you. It was like we were all in the car, an’ I was drivin’. But it felt... I mean... I had half my family right here.” He took his right hand off the wheel and put it over his heart. “Like, literally, right here. They could help me, and I could protect them.” He gave Sam a sidelong look. “Hate that I can’t do it with you.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
Dean reached over to squeeze the back of Sam’s neck before putting his hand back on the wheel. And Sam suddenly realized Dean hadn’t said a word about the power he had to have felt, being merged with two half-fae and a... whatever the proper term for Agatha was. That was the part Sam had been most curious about all along, if he were honest with himself. But for Dean, evidently, it had been only about the people involved.
Sam wasn’t sure he liked what that said about both of them.
“Change of plan,” Dean announced suddenly, loudly enough to interrupt Zeetha and Henry. “Just heard from Gil. Gotta swing by the Roadhouse on the way into town.”
Zeetha leaned forward. “Has Ash found something?”
“No, not yet. Bobby an’ Rufus are there, though, want to meet with Henry ’fore the big get-together tomorrow.”
“Oh,” said Henry warily. “All right.”
Sam frowned. “Wait, Bobby and Rufus are speaking to each other again?”
Dean shrugged. “Guess so.”
“Huh. Wow. World must be ending.”
“Dude,” Dean objected over Zeetha’s half-hearted chuckle and switched on the radio.
The remainder of the drive lasted just long enough for Sam to start second-guessing his own motives about practically everything, but the car slowing down for the turn into the Roadhouse’s parking lot brought him out of his reverie. The unpaved lot was empty save for three trucks-belonging respectively to Ellen Harvelle, her daughter Jo, and Rufus Turner-and Bobby Singer’s Chevelle, so Dean pulled the Impala up to the free space nearest the door and parked. But all of the things Sam had been brooding over were instantly forgotten when he and Dean looked down at the radio for a moment, looked back out the windshield, and swore at the same time.
Jess was standing barely two inches away from the front bumper, swaying a little and looking totally confused.
“Jess!” Sam cried as he and Dean jumped out of the car at the same time.
Jess gasped and almost dropped the backpack that was slung over her shoulder. “Sam? What... how... where am I?”
“Harvelle’s Roadhouse. We’re in Beetleburg.”
“Nebraska?!”
“You didn’t know?”
Jess shook her head. “There was this... this guy... he-he said he could help me, and... then he snapped his fingers, and... and then I was here.”
Before Sam could figure out what to say next, the sound of a throat clearing behind him jolted him out of his shock and prompted him to turn around to find Henry looking at him expectantly. “Uh. Right, sorry-Henry, this is m-um, this is Jessica Moore. Jess, my grandfather, Henry Winchester.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jess,” Henry said while Jess blinked at him owlishly. “I’ve heard a great deal about you from Sam these last few weeks.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Jess managed and shook hands with Henry before looking at Sam again. “Grandfather?”
Sam nodded. “Time travel.”
Jess laughed a little. “You-that letter-you weren’t kidding.”
“No. No more secrets. Not after what’s happened.”
Jess shivered, and Dean said, “Damn cold out here.”
“C’mon,” Sam said, started to put his arm around Jess’ shoulders, then stopped himself because he still wasn’t sure of his standing. “L-let’s go inside, get some coffee,” he added awkwardly.
“Coffee?” Jess echoed. “At a bar?”
“They don’t serve drinks this early,” Zeetha noted. “And Ellen won’t make it Irish unless you ask.”
Jess nodded, shivered again, and let Sam usher her inside with the rest of the family following. After another round of introductions and holy water shots, Jo showed Sam and Jess to a booth while Ash brought the coffee.
Once Dean, Zeetha, and Henry were deep in conversation with Ellen, Rufus, and Bobby at the bar, Sam sighed heavily. “Jess, I am so sorry.”
Jess stared down into her mug. “I ought to be mad,” she confessed quietly. “I want to be mad. I mean, I knew... I knew you were hiding something, but....”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me. I was afraid I’d lose you if you did. And I didn’t... I-I guess I was trying to shield you. I just went about it all wrong. I never drea-uh. Well. I... sorta did dream it, but... I didn’t want to believe that my not telling you would put your life in danger.”
She sniffled. “That’s what those nightmares were, huh? The really bad ones?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were psychic?”
“I didn’t know. We’re still not sure I am. We don’t know what’s going on yet. Like I said in the letter, it’s... really complicated. We’ve done some research the last couple of weeks, but so far, we haven’t found all the information we need.”
She burst into tears. “I didn’t want to believe it. I tried to tell myself it was all just a nightmare. But... but you were gone, and Brady was in the hospital and acting all weird whenever he was awake, and Zola won’t talk to me, and....”
He reached across the table to cover her hands with his own. “She was using you. Using us. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. Jess, this... this whole thing’s my fault. I should have recognized the signs. I’m sorry.”
She pulled one hand away and fished a Kleenex out of her purse. “I don’t want to forgive you, but... Sam, I miss you. And if... if what Sleipnir says is true....”
“Even if we break up, your life’s still in danger. Because of me. Because I still love you.”
She nodded and sobbed into her Kleenex.
“Look, I know what happened isn’t the sort of thing you can just get over, and I’m not going to ask you to. You’ve got every right to hate me. If you do want to break up, I totally get it. But even with Gil’s plane, I don’t think we can get you home before the weather gets bad.”
“Wasn’t going home,” she admitted, still looking at the mug. “I don’t know what I was planning. TV dinner and a big bottle of wine, maybe. I just... didn’t want to have to face anyone.”
“I’m not gonna ask you to stay with us tonight, either, or eat with us tomorrow, not if you don’t want to. I mean, you’re welcome to, but we can get you a room at the motel, or we can ask Ellen to let you stay here, or we could call Agatha’s folks and see if they’ll put you up. I’ll even ask Dean to buy you that wine.”
She sobbed a laugh. “Sam-”
“No, hear me out, please. What I am going to ask you to do is... tomorrow night, or Friday or whenever we end up leaving... come with us. At least until we figure out what’s going on and how best to protect you. There’s this place in Kansas where we’ve been staying....”
“The... the Men of Letters place? You said something about it in the letter.”
“Yeah. It’s this huge underground bunker. You can have your own room; you can avoid me as much as you want. But it’s warded super tight, like, from the bottom of the foundation up. Ash can’t even get a fix on it with GPS. We’ve got a line on another place that’s even further off the grid, supposed to have even better warding. Once we’ve got it, the four of us, and probably Gil and Agatha, are planning to move there and let the Adventure Club have the bunker, at least until this thing is over. You can stay with them or come with us. But just... let me do this for you. Let me keep you safe. Please?”
She snuffled into her Kleenex for a moment, swiped at her cheeks, and finally met his eyes with a sigh. “Okay.”
Just then, Zeetha came over to the table with the coffee pot. “Dean and I are going on,” she informed them quietly. “We’ll be back in an hour or so to pick up Henry, if Bobby doesn’t bring him over before then. You guys wanna stay, or....”
Jess sniffled and nodded.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I can call when we’re ready-or... when I’m ready, at least. Jess....”
“I, uh... haven’t decided yet,” Jess replied. “Where I’m staying, that is.”
“Kinda awkward, having Henry with us,” Zeetha offered. “He jumped in 1958, and it shows.”
That got a smile out of Jess. “Yeah. Thanks, Zeetha.”
Zeetha smiled back, set the coffee pot on the table, and left.
Next
Summary: Phase 1 of the Stanford Adventure Club's plan to save Sam Winchester involves locking the British Men of Letters out of the Kansas bunker and capturing Cuthbert Sinclair's hidden mansion as a second base of operations. That would be enough of a challenge on its own, but with unexpected reunions and stunning revelations waiting around every bend in the road, the Winchesters may find far more than they thought they were looking for.
A/N: This story contains references to, and potentially spoilers for, the first six episodes of SPN Season 1, Season 4’s “In the Beginning,” Season 5’s “My Bloody Valentine” and “Dark Side of the Moon,” Season 8’s “As Time Goes By,” Season 9’s “Blade Runners,” and Season 10’s “The Werther Project,” plus lore details revealed as late as Season 12 and some headcanon on my part as to what caused Cuthbert Sinclair’s definite turn to the dark side. The title is from Ecclesiastes 3:6 in the English Standard Version; you might be more familiar with Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 from the King James Version as sung by the Byrds in “Turn! Turn! Turn!”
Also, I would just like to point out that I established the concept of Zantabraxus being a fae queen in this AU in “Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children” and the idea of the Dyne goddess being an actual goddess in “Thicker than Water,” both of which I posted last June, long before the lore about Albia and Luheia (and possibly the Dyne goddess) being “immortal god queens” showed up in GG canon. Does that entitle me to Moxana points?
Many thanks to my awesome beta jennytork, who helped with the Latin as much as with the brainstorming, and to hells_half_acre for her invaluable SPN timeline!
A Time to Seek
By San Antonio Rose
Chapter 1
November 23, 2005
Lebanon, Kansas
“Dear Lord,” said Henry Winchester, shutting the file folder with a snap.
His grandson Sam looked up from the book he was scouring for information about angel vessels. “What?”
Henry waved the folder a little before setting it on the library table, next to the box marked Infamati et Obliterati in which he’d found it. “Cuthbert’s file.”
“Cuth-oh, Sinclair?”
Henry nodded. “I suppose knowing what you guys know about his affiliation with the Mongfish family should have been enough of a warning, but... then again, I’m not sure anything would. Maybe all it does is prepare me to believe it’s all true.”
Sam marked his place with a bookmark and gave Henry his full attention. “What did you find?”
“Well, some of it I already knew about-his suggestions for improving the warding on this bunker, for instance, and the fact that a lot of his proposals after the war were rejected. I knew he wanted to study monster biology in more detail, and I knew he had live specimens in his mansion... but not why. This says he’d been sent to infiltrate the SS and the Thule Society, and evidently he got further into the part than he should have.”
“The Thule Society?”
“Pseudoscientific group that gave Hitler and Himmler the pretext they needed to declare Germans the so-called master race and to declare other races, especially Jews, subhuman. They also delved deeply into the occult, experimenting with necromancy and such. That’s the group Saturn Heterodyne was involved with, and it looks like Cuthbert picked up some of his ideas. Well, his or Mengele’s.”
Sam shuddered. “So what was Sinclair doing?”
“Infection. Poisoning. Vivisection. Testing spell effects. Breeding. Cross-breeding.”
Sam swore, eyes widening. “That’s where Lucifer Mongfish got the idea!”
Henry blinked. “What?”
“I guess it was... fourteen years ago, nearly, when we rescued Tarvek Murphy and his cousin Violetta, he told Gil’s dad about another cousin of his named Martellus von Blitzengaard who was breeding werewolves. Turned out, von Blitzengaard was breeding way more than that, and he claimed it was a research project suggested to him by Lucifer Mongfish. But if Mongfish was getting that research from Sinclair, that would explain the scale-I mean, you can’t exactly breed thousands of humanoid test subjects in a hidden mansion without someone asking questions about how much food you’re buying.”
Henry tilted his head a little. “That’s a fair point. What happened to the monsters?”
Sam shook his head. “It took years to clean up that mess, and we’re still not sure we got all of them. In fact, that’s how the Adventure Club got started. Dad sent Dean after what looked like a were but turned out to be a pack of rabid skinwalkers that had escaped from von Blitzengaard’s ranch, and Gil, Tarvek, Ardsley, and Colette insisted on going with Dean as backup. And it’s a good thing they did, ’cause Gil saved Dean’s life.”
Henry sighed and shook his head in turn. “I really thought Cuthbert was my friend and that his expulsion was a misunderstanding. But whether he was behind von Blitzengaard’s enterprise or not... that’s not even the worst of it.”
“What could be worse than that?”
“There’s a grimoire called the Book of the Damned. Supposedly, it contains the darkest magic known to mankind. But it’s in code, and the key to breaking that code is in another codex, which is likewise encrypted. During the war, the Men of Letters came into possession of that codex, and Cuthbert was charged with securing it against use.” Henry ran a hand over his mouth. “He codenamed the project ‘Werther.’”
“As in the candy?”
“As in the Goethe novel, The Sorrows of Young Werther. It’s one of the most controversial works to come out of the Sturm und Drang movement. At the end of the book, the protagonist kills himself.”
Sam hissed.
“Cuthbert put this codex in a safe in a civilian house and warded it with curses so severe they drove the owners mad. Those poor people either killed each other or killed themselves. The safe itself is secured with a blood lock that opens only when filled with copious quantities of blood. Another Man of Letters bled out attempting to open it, and when the elders confronted Cuthbert, he said only that the man was on the right track.”
Sam swore again. “And was that when they expelled him?”
“Indeed.” Henry shook his head. “I can’t believe I was so wrong about him.”
“Hey, after finding out one of my best friends was possessed for almost three years and I never realized it? Trust me, I know how it feels.”
“No, Sam, this is worse. At least you know it wasn’t really your friend who attacked your girlfriend. This was my friend’s doing.” Henry paused. “Although I do know how you feel about Brady. Abaddon was possessing one of my best friends when she attacked us. Probably had been for several weeks, since the last case we worked before our final initiation. And I’d never spotted any difference in Josie’s behavior at all.”
In moments like this, Sam found it exceptionally hard to remember that Henry was his grandfather. Thanks to time travel, Henry was actually just over three years older than Dean, and right now, he looked even younger than that.
“Can I get you anything?” Sam offered. “Beer, whisky?”
Henry shook his head. “No. Thank you. I’ll... I’ll be all right.” He managed a weak smile.
Before Sam could press his offer, Dean and Zeetha came into the library. “Gil just called,” Dean announced, waving his phone. “Roads are supposed to get bad tonight, so they figure we should head on up there now.”
Sam nodded and closed his book. “Okay.”
“And Theo called a few minutes ago,” Zeetha added. “Monday was his first day working in ICU-and Brady was moved out to a regular room an hour before Theo came on duty. Then today, Brady checked out AMA.”
“What?!” Henry and Sam gasped.
“He was barely conscious on Sunday!” Sam continued.
Dean grimaced. “Yeah, well, apparently Zola found a hole in the security Theo tried to set up for him. They found needle marks in the med port of his IV line and some sort of foreign substance in the line itself, plus residue of a blue powder in his oxygen cannula. Chemical analysis hasn’t come back yet.”
“Blue powder,” Henry murmured. “Cuthbert used to keep a dish of blue powder on one of the end tables in his sitting room. I asked him about it once; he said it was for spells I wasn’t ready to learn yet.”
Sam huffed. “Yeah, like thrall, probably.”
Henry made a face.
“If I had to guess,” said Zeetha, “I’d say the stuff she injected in the IV line was some sort of healing potion, but probably one that creates dependence either on it or on the person administering it. That plus a light thrall spell would get Brady on his feet and leave him appearing to make free choices but still keep him completely under her control.”
Dean muttered something about Annie Wilkes.
Sam sighed heavily. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
Dean walked over and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Like Tarvek said, if they hadn’t used Brady, they’da used someone else. First we gotta stop this thing Azazel’s got cookin’, whatever the hell it is. Then maybe we can get Brady out ’fore it’s too late.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“Still no word from Jess?”
Sam shook his head. While the rest of the Adventure Club had been busy making phone calls and preparing to leave Palo Alto in the wake of demon-Brady’s attack on Jess Moore, Sam had written Jess a long letter of apology and explanation and asked Van von Mekkhan to deliver it to her. Van had done so just after the Winchesters had left town, but so far, Jess had neither called nor emailed, not even to say that she never wanted to see Sam again.
Dean rubbed Sam’s shoulder a little. “Theo said Sleipnir ran into her at the hospital the other night, took her out for coffee and had a long talk with her, but he didn’t know any more than that.”
Sam nodded and sighed again. “Thanks. Has Gil heard from Tarvek?”
“Yeah, they got in late last night. Turns out the hunt at Blackwater Ridge was a wendigo. They ganked it just fine. But Dad’s not there, never was.”
“A wendigo? In Colorado?”
“Search me, dude. At least Tarvek’s had some experience with the damn things, thanks to Pastor Jim. Colette almost shot it before he could stop her.”
Sam huffed and shook his head. “What the hell, Dad?”
“Yeah, no kiddin’. Gil said they took another hunt in Wisconsin on the way to Blue Earth, but still no sign of Dad, and Pastor Jim hasn’t heard from him since he went to Jericho.”
“And Ash?”
“Nada.”
Sam huffed again.
“I still don’t understand,” said Henry. “Why would John be hiding from you?”
“If we knew that,” Dean replied, grabbing Dad’s leather jacket from the chair next to Sam, “we wouldn’t be spending Thanksgiving in Beetleburg.”
The four Winchesters still hadn’t worked out a completely comfortable seating arrangement for when they were all in the car together, but fortunately, Henry had decided he wanted to spend this two-hour trip quizzing Zeetha about Vietnam and the state of the fae kingdoms in Southeast Asia. So the two of them sat in the back and talked, and Sam sat in the front with Dean and filled him in on what he’d learned about angel vessels so far. There wasn’t much that was particularly helpful yet, but the book did confirm that the... capacity, so to speak, was passed down through certain bloodlines and that there were rare instances of vessels who’d never accepted possession nevertheless spontaneously speaking in Enochian, the language of the angels, under the influence of magic. The one named example had been a Winchester whose mother had been a Campbell.
Dean frowned at that. “Wait, so there’s somethin’ funky on Mom’s side of the family, too?”
“That’s what it sounds like,” Sam confirmed. “The book said there’s no record of a Campbell ever having been a vessel, but the researchers thought there might be something else in the Campbell bloodline that... I dunno, strengthens the vessel gene or something. This was, like, late Renaissance; they didn’t have the technology back then to investigate it in more detail. In any case, the researchers recommended that the Letters forbid any further marriages between the Winchesters and the Campbells.”
“Just for that?”
“Well, that and apparently the Campbells were hunters.”
Dean stared at him. “Seriously?”
“At least back then, yeah. I dunno if it was the whole clan, whether they’re still hunting, anything like that. Might have been bias against the Scots, too; hard to tell.”
Frowning, Dean turned his attention back to the road but drummed on the steering wheel a little as he thought. “Bet that’s one reason Hell wanted the Letters shut down before Dad was old enough to join. If he’d stayed in Normal, he never woulda met Mom.”
“Unless he went to college at KU, and even then....”
“No guarantee he woulda fallen for her, and if he had....”
“The Letters probably would have tried to stop the marriage. But on the other hand, just killing the Letters wouldn’t guarantee anything, either. I mean, I’m not saying it’s not a reason, but....”
“Yeah, no, I get it.” Dean drummed on the steering wheel again, frowning and chewing on his lip. Then he sighed, shook his head, and apparently stuffed whatever questions and conclusions he had into a different compartment to deal with later. “So. What else?”
Sam suppressed a sigh and rattled off all the general facts he’d learned so far, especially about vessels’ physiology. That led to some interesting but not ultimately useful discussion about various injuries and ailments the brothers had had in the past, including the severity of the demon-induced mono and measles that had kept both of them off their feet for extended periods back in high school. They were still about thirty minutes away from Beetleburg when Sam finally got around to what he’d read about the mechanics of possession, most notably the fact that a small portion of the angel’s grace was usually left behind in the vessel when the angel departed.
It was a good thing the road ahead was straight, clear, and not yet icy. Dean froze and turned pale.
“... Dean?” Sam prompted. When Dean didn’t respond, he tried again. “Dean, what is it?”
“Nothin’, Sam,” Dean replied so quietly Sam almost didn’t hear him.
“No, it’s not nothing. C’mon.”
Henry shifted in the back seat, but Zeetha quickly asked him something Sam didn’t quite catch, drawing his attention away from Dean again.
“What’d we look like?” Dean finally asked.
The question threw Sam. “What?”
“That night. The four of us.”
“Uh. I... I don’t... b-big. Not like you. But it was only, like, two seconds before you un-merged; I barely even had time to register that you were there. And you were backlit, so I didn’t... I mean, I couldn’t see what color your hair was or anything.”
“Did we have wings?”
“I... no. I don’t think so. If you did, they didn’t register, or maybe they weren’t visible.”
Dean nodded slowly. “And since then?”
“Nothing like when Gil and Agatha got married. I mean, your eyes aren’t... any different.”
Dean’s shoulders relaxed a little as he let out a tiny silent sigh.
“You think... they left something behind?”
Dean nodded a little. “Not like with Zeetha, but... yeah. I’ve noticed some stuff. Thought I was imagining things.” He took a deep breath. “Gil’s listening.”
“What?!”
“Think it’s stronger with him ’cause he’s blood-Zeetha’s brother, I mean.” Dean paused. “Says Agatha can’t really hear anything, just... like, behind a closed door at the far end of the hall.”
Sam felt an uncomfortably familiar pang that he was never sure what to call. Sure, he’d wanted out of the family business, wanted to make his own way in the world, have his own friends and his own loves and his own life. But more than ever, he realized he didn’t want that to come at the expense of the bond he shared with Dean. While he did love his in-laws... knowing they had a bond of their own with Dean that Sam couldn’t share, one that went beyond the ties of friendship and marriage... he felt left out rather than independent. And knowing the four-way merge had happened only because Sam and Jess had been in danger, because Sam had left his guard down long enough for the demon to ward his apartment against his family and they’d had no other way to get to him, didn’t help.
“What was it like?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Dean sighed. “Hard to describe; not like I really took the time to think about it. Weird. Full. Different.” He paused briefly. “Kinda good, if I’m honest. Not like with just Zeetha... y’know, we were all focused on gettin’ past the wards, gettin’ to you. It was like we were all in the car, an’ I was drivin’. But it felt... I mean... I had half my family right here.” He took his right hand off the wheel and put it over his heart. “Like, literally, right here. They could help me, and I could protect them.” He gave Sam a sidelong look. “Hate that I can’t do it with you.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
Dean reached over to squeeze the back of Sam’s neck before putting his hand back on the wheel. And Sam suddenly realized Dean hadn’t said a word about the power he had to have felt, being merged with two half-fae and a... whatever the proper term for Agatha was. That was the part Sam had been most curious about all along, if he were honest with himself. But for Dean, evidently, it had been only about the people involved.
Sam wasn’t sure he liked what that said about both of them.
“Change of plan,” Dean announced suddenly, loudly enough to interrupt Zeetha and Henry. “Just heard from Gil. Gotta swing by the Roadhouse on the way into town.”
Zeetha leaned forward. “Has Ash found something?”
“No, not yet. Bobby an’ Rufus are there, though, want to meet with Henry ’fore the big get-together tomorrow.”
“Oh,” said Henry warily. “All right.”
Sam frowned. “Wait, Bobby and Rufus are speaking to each other again?”
Dean shrugged. “Guess so.”
“Huh. Wow. World must be ending.”
“Dude,” Dean objected over Zeetha’s half-hearted chuckle and switched on the radio.
The remainder of the drive lasted just long enough for Sam to start second-guessing his own motives about practically everything, but the car slowing down for the turn into the Roadhouse’s parking lot brought him out of his reverie. The unpaved lot was empty save for three trucks-belonging respectively to Ellen Harvelle, her daughter Jo, and Rufus Turner-and Bobby Singer’s Chevelle, so Dean pulled the Impala up to the free space nearest the door and parked. But all of the things Sam had been brooding over were instantly forgotten when he and Dean looked down at the radio for a moment, looked back out the windshield, and swore at the same time.
Jess was standing barely two inches away from the front bumper, swaying a little and looking totally confused.
“Jess!” Sam cried as he and Dean jumped out of the car at the same time.
Jess gasped and almost dropped the backpack that was slung over her shoulder. “Sam? What... how... where am I?”
“Harvelle’s Roadhouse. We’re in Beetleburg.”
“Nebraska?!”
“You didn’t know?”
Jess shook her head. “There was this... this guy... he-he said he could help me, and... then he snapped his fingers, and... and then I was here.”
Before Sam could figure out what to say next, the sound of a throat clearing behind him jolted him out of his shock and prompted him to turn around to find Henry looking at him expectantly. “Uh. Right, sorry-Henry, this is m-um, this is Jessica Moore. Jess, my grandfather, Henry Winchester.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jess,” Henry said while Jess blinked at him owlishly. “I’ve heard a great deal about you from Sam these last few weeks.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Jess managed and shook hands with Henry before looking at Sam again. “Grandfather?”
Sam nodded. “Time travel.”
Jess laughed a little. “You-that letter-you weren’t kidding.”
“No. No more secrets. Not after what’s happened.”
Jess shivered, and Dean said, “Damn cold out here.”
“C’mon,” Sam said, started to put his arm around Jess’ shoulders, then stopped himself because he still wasn’t sure of his standing. “L-let’s go inside, get some coffee,” he added awkwardly.
“Coffee?” Jess echoed. “At a bar?”
“They don’t serve drinks this early,” Zeetha noted. “And Ellen won’t make it Irish unless you ask.”
Jess nodded, shivered again, and let Sam usher her inside with the rest of the family following. After another round of introductions and holy water shots, Jo showed Sam and Jess to a booth while Ash brought the coffee.
Once Dean, Zeetha, and Henry were deep in conversation with Ellen, Rufus, and Bobby at the bar, Sam sighed heavily. “Jess, I am so sorry.”
Jess stared down into her mug. “I ought to be mad,” she confessed quietly. “I want to be mad. I mean, I knew... I knew you were hiding something, but....”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me. I was afraid I’d lose you if you did. And I didn’t... I-I guess I was trying to shield you. I just went about it all wrong. I never drea-uh. Well. I... sorta did dream it, but... I didn’t want to believe that my not telling you would put your life in danger.”
She sniffled. “That’s what those nightmares were, huh? The really bad ones?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were psychic?”
“I didn’t know. We’re still not sure I am. We don’t know what’s going on yet. Like I said in the letter, it’s... really complicated. We’ve done some research the last couple of weeks, but so far, we haven’t found all the information we need.”
She burst into tears. “I didn’t want to believe it. I tried to tell myself it was all just a nightmare. But... but you were gone, and Brady was in the hospital and acting all weird whenever he was awake, and Zola won’t talk to me, and....”
He reached across the table to cover her hands with his own. “She was using you. Using us. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. Jess, this... this whole thing’s my fault. I should have recognized the signs. I’m sorry.”
She pulled one hand away and fished a Kleenex out of her purse. “I don’t want to forgive you, but... Sam, I miss you. And if... if what Sleipnir says is true....”
“Even if we break up, your life’s still in danger. Because of me. Because I still love you.”
She nodded and sobbed into her Kleenex.
“Look, I know what happened isn’t the sort of thing you can just get over, and I’m not going to ask you to. You’ve got every right to hate me. If you do want to break up, I totally get it. But even with Gil’s plane, I don’t think we can get you home before the weather gets bad.”
“Wasn’t going home,” she admitted, still looking at the mug. “I don’t know what I was planning. TV dinner and a big bottle of wine, maybe. I just... didn’t want to have to face anyone.”
“I’m not gonna ask you to stay with us tonight, either, or eat with us tomorrow, not if you don’t want to. I mean, you’re welcome to, but we can get you a room at the motel, or we can ask Ellen to let you stay here, or we could call Agatha’s folks and see if they’ll put you up. I’ll even ask Dean to buy you that wine.”
She sobbed a laugh. “Sam-”
“No, hear me out, please. What I am going to ask you to do is... tomorrow night, or Friday or whenever we end up leaving... come with us. At least until we figure out what’s going on and how best to protect you. There’s this place in Kansas where we’ve been staying....”
“The... the Men of Letters place? You said something about it in the letter.”
“Yeah. It’s this huge underground bunker. You can have your own room; you can avoid me as much as you want. But it’s warded super tight, like, from the bottom of the foundation up. Ash can’t even get a fix on it with GPS. We’ve got a line on another place that’s even further off the grid, supposed to have even better warding. Once we’ve got it, the four of us, and probably Gil and Agatha, are planning to move there and let the Adventure Club have the bunker, at least until this thing is over. You can stay with them or come with us. But just... let me do this for you. Let me keep you safe. Please?”
She snuffled into her Kleenex for a moment, swiped at her cheeks, and finally met his eyes with a sigh. “Okay.”
Just then, Zeetha came over to the table with the coffee pot. “Dean and I are going on,” she informed them quietly. “We’ll be back in an hour or so to pick up Henry, if Bobby doesn’t bring him over before then. You guys wanna stay, or....”
Jess sniffled and nodded.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I can call when we’re ready-or... when I’m ready, at least. Jess....”
“I, uh... haven’t decided yet,” Jess replied. “Where I’m staying, that is.”
“Kinda awkward, having Henry with us,” Zeetha offered. “He jumped in 1958, and it shows.”
That got a smile out of Jess. “Yeah. Thanks, Zeetha.”
Zeetha smiled back, set the coffee pot on the table, and left.
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