In the Belly of the Whale 1/3
Metadata is in the master post.
In the Belly of the Whale
By Enola Jones and San Antonio Rose
Chapter 1
The Visitor
February 14, 2011
John waved good night to the kids and grandkids one last time and closed the front door. They’d decided to have Valentine’s Day dinner at Papaw’s house, and John’s face hurt from smiling and laughing so much.
The longer he lived here with his kids, the less he felt like he’d want to move on when his house arrest ended in another few years. He’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a family, a community, the way he was in Cazadore.
Spotting a forgotten toy in the middle of the living room floor, he chuckled and started to stoop to pick it up. But the toy was forgotten again when, with a sudden flash and a bang, the door of the downstairs closet flew open just long enough for a dark-haired man in a light blue suit to come tumbling out of it. By the time the door slammed shut again, John had his handgun drawn and aimed at the intruder.
“You move and I shoot,” he snarled. “Identify yourself!”
The man looked up-and John’s gut clenched as he saw a face that he hadn’t seen in over fifty years. “John? John, is... is that you? Don’t you know me?”
“... What are you?” he growled, even as he cursed the way the gun wavered slightly and the treacherous tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes. “Why are you wearing my father’s face?”
The man-shaped thing blinked. “Wh-what do you mean, what am I? I am your father. I’m Henry Winchester. The last time I saw you, I turned on the music box and told you I had to do something for work, and you asked about my tie pin, and I promised I’d tell you about it when you were older. It was 1958. Don’t... don’t you remember?”
“I remember. My father never came home-he ran out on me and my mother.”
The thing paled. “No... no, that’s not-I can’t....” It paused and swallowed hard, seeming to pull himself together. “Look, something happened that night. Something that caused me to go straight from that day to this. I need your help, John. I’ve got a demon on my tail, Abaddon, and there’s something I’ve got to keep safe from her.”
“I don’t believe you’re my father.”
Just then the front door burst open, and Sam and Dean ran back in, guns at the ready. “Dad?” Dean asked. “What’s goin’ on?”
“It says it’s my father,” John growled. “I don’t know what it is.”
The boys had it tied to a chair in a matter of seconds. Sam tested it with a silver knife, Dean with holy water; neither got any reaction except rolled eyes.
“I told you,” it-he-said. “I am Henry Winchester. I’m from Normal, Illinois. I am your father, John.”
“My father has been dead for over fifty years,” John growled. “But you’re human.”
“John, listen to me. I used a time travel spell-‘Blood leads to blood.’ You should know this. What level are you?”
“Level?” came from all three at once.
The man opened his mouth to explain, but suddenly there was a rumble from the closet.
Sam grunted and put a hand to his forehead. The last time John had seen that reaction, a demon had been close.
Dean ran to the door and signed frantically to the girls. John heard engines start and tires crunch as the girls got the grandkids out of harm’s way.
And a moment later, Bill Cooper strolled in. “I take it you mooks need backup?”
“Demon,” Sam croaked out.
And then the closet door flew open again and a statuesque redhead with blood on her ’50s-style dress strolled into the room.
Cooper waved a hand and suddenly Henry was free. Dean and Sam pulled him to stand behind a three-way wall of Winchester. And then they were behind a three-way wall of Cooper, as Mike and Cas appeared on either side of Bill.
“Abaddon,” Michael growled.
Her head swung around. “I don’t believe it,” she laughed lightly. “Does Daddy know you’re out past curfew, Angel?”
“Times have changed. The world has changed. Your plans are for naught.”
“Just let me have Winchester... and I am out of your time.”
“No dice, sister,” Bill retorted. “And if you’re thinking of going out the way you came in? Forget it.”
Her smile faltered. “... what?”
Bill snapped his fingers, and the walls glowed for a split second as wards that John might or might not have known were present briefly became visible even to the mortal eye. “You’re stuck.”
She growled and struck out with the telekinesis all demons had. But the angels weren’t fazed, and neither were the Winchesters or the wards. A couple of windows blew out, but that wasn’t enough to enable her to escape.
Michael’s sword flashed into his hand. “Who sent you, Abaddon?”
“I don’t answer to you, Featherbrain!”
“You do now, Destroyer.”
And then Carol turned up behind Abaddon, two arms forcing the demon to her knees while one hand pulled her head back and the fourth held a scimitar to her neck. “That’s my nickname, Archangel,” Carol said to Michael, but somehow John could tell her real irritation was reserved for Abaddon.
He bowed his head in a single, slow nod. “So sorry, Kali-ma. It would seem-Abaddon-that you face a united front.”
Abaddon snarled and tried to twist out of Carol’s grasp, but four more arms shot out to force her down.
“How many arms do you have, anyway?” Dean asked.
“Enough,” Carol replied, but she couldn’t keep a sparkle of amusement out of her eyes.
“What is this?” Abaddon snarled. “How could you have amassed this force so quickly, Man of Letters?”
“He didn’t,” Cas stated flatly. “Welcome to Cazadore.”
Her eyes blazed black and she put all her effort into breaking free.
But though she managed to shake off some of Carol’s hands, Michael pressed the point of his sword against her borrowed heart before she could get completely loose. “You have but one last chance,” he said. “Who sent you to kill the Men of Letters?”
She smirked at him. “You kill me-and one will rise to take my place. One way or another, you will face Lucifer.”
“Azazel is dead. The traitors in Heaven who would have aided your cause are dead. Lucifer will not rise until my Father deems it time.”
Her jaw dropped. “Azazel? My son is dead?”
Sam gasped. “Azazel is the one who took her place!”
“Well, ain’t nobody takin’ his place,” Dean growled.
Suddenly she screamed, “GIVE IT TO ME!” and tried to surge toward Henry.
As the Winchesters tightened their rank in front of Henry, Cas and Bill added their swords to Michael and Carol’s. Henry surreptitiously shoved something in John’s pocket.
“SPEAK!” Michael thundered.
“THE PLAN WILL NEVER BE DERAILED!”
“It HAS been derailed! It shall STAY derailed! Who sent you?”
The name was choked out of her. “LILITH!”
Three swords plunged into her heart at the same time, while Carol took her head.
Three Winchesters spun their backs as the demonic light show erupted, using their bodies to shield the smaller-framed Henry.
When it was over, Carol made her scimitar vanish and used her free hands to lift the corpse. “I’ll see to this,” she said. “Good night.” And she vanished.
“Thanks, Carol!” Bill called after her.
Michael snapped his fingers and cleaned up the mess. Henry was shaking.
Dean looked him over. “You okay there, Henry?”
Henry shook his head. “No... I... I...” Then he dashed to the kitchen and noisily lost his dinner.
Just about the time Henry got his stomach under control, Josh ran in, gun at the ready, but paused just inside the door. “Um. Hey. Did... did I miss all the fun?”
Dean snorted. “Nah, not all of it. Looks like we got another dead grandfather to deal with.”
Josh sighed and holstered his gun. “Great.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, Sadie said ‘Uh-oh’ about the same time Mary did?”
“How’d you guess?”
“You’re good, dude, but you’re not that good.”
Cas helped Henry stagger back into the living room and sit down on the couch. “Thank you,” Henry said. “S-sorry, it’s just... the adventures I prefer are usually of a literary nature.”
“You’re a librarian?” Sam asked, sitting by him.
“Of a sort. That’s not my day job; I’m an accountant. But I’m a member of the Men of Letters, as was my father and his father before him, every man in our family for... a thousand years, I guess. As you and John should have been.”
“What’s the Men of Letters?” John asked.
Henry hesitated, but Michael answered for him. “The Men of Letters were a society devoted to the preservation of knowledge about the supernatural. For centuries they served the world’s most elite hunters in much the same way Bobby Singer serves your network now. But they became arrogant, more proud of their elite status than concerned about serving and instructing others. Their numbers dwindled... and then Abaddon attacked.”
“And wiped them completely out,” Bill said.
Henry’s face lost what little color it had regained. “They’re all dead?” he asked quietly.
“The only reason you survived is that you jumped.”
Henry let out a shaky sigh. Cas pulled a cup of tea out of thin air and handed it to him.
John reached into his back pocket and pulled out the thing Henry had shoved in there: a gold-colored box with funky engravings on it, about the size of a pack of cards or of cigarettes. “What is this?”
“I’m not sure,” Henry admitted. “I was told to keep it safe.”
“Here,” said Josh, closing the door behind him as he came further into the room. “Let me see if I can get anything from it.”
Henry looked at him, clearly puzzled.
John handed the box to Josh, who ran his fingers over the surface and let his eyes go slightly unfocused as he concentrated. Then he shook his head. “It’s too well warded. I can’t tell what it is. Mostly I’m... I’m getting flashes from when he left, the night Abaddon attacked.” He paused. “I’m... not... sure no one else survived.”
“You’re psychic,” Henry gasped.
Josh focused on him and smiled a little wryly. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Kind of? That’s like saying you’re kind of pregnant....”
Everyone laughed. “I mean, I’m more sensitive than anything,” Josh clarified. “I don’t have visions like Sam does.”
Henry’s head swiveled around like he was slapped, his eyes huge.
Sam shrugged with a sheepish smile. “It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
Sam glanced at John, then back at Henry and sighed. “Look, why don’t you come stay with my wife and me tonight? We can get you up to speed in the morning and then figure out what to do about that box.”
“All right,” Henry said.
“We’ll set a watch,” said Michael. “Abaddon’s appearance may prompt some other demon to try again, wards or no wards.”
“But she’s dead.” Henry clearly was out of his depth.
“But Lilith is not.” And Michael was gone.
John stood. “Okay, everyone out of my house. It’s been a long night and I need to get some rest.”
“Yes, sir,” the boys chorused as Cas helped Henry to his feet. Josh opened the door and handed the box back to Henry as he passed, and then everyone but Bill trooped outside.
John watched them go, then closed the door. “I assume you’re staying.”
“Not for long,” Bill promised. “You do need your rest. But I do want to say one thing to you before I go. Ease up on your dad. It’s not his fault he got sent here.”
“I’ve spent a lifetime hating the man.”
“And look where it got you.”
John sighed and sank onto the couch.
“I’m not saying you have to be best friends right away. Just... try to forgive him. He’s here now. And your hate can’t do anything but hurt both of you.”
“He loves me.”
“He does. Remember that.” And Bill left.
John sat up, nursing a beer, until he went to bed.
Josh drove Henry, Sam, and Dean back to Sam’s house. Sam called Tricia to let her know the situation was under control, but they arrived to find three anxious wives and three fussy daughters waiting in Sam’s living room.
“Henry Winchester,” Sam introduced. “These are our wives and daughters.”
Michelle was shy and insisted on Dean holding her, but Sadie and Mary both regarded Henry curiously.
“Henry is Dad’s father,” Sam said. “Pulled forward in time.”
Mary’s eyes went huge.
Tricia took a deep breath and let it out again. “Well. Welcome to Cazadore, Henry.”
“Thank you... ma’am.”
“Tricia. I’m Sam’s wife, and this is our daughter Mary.”
“Good to meet you,” he whispered.
Daphne and Tiffany introduced themselves and the girls as well. Then the Robichauxs left, and Sam and Tricia went into the kitchen to get snacks and coffee for everyone.
Still wide-eyed, Mary crawled into Henry’s lap and patted his face.
He smiled, cradling her. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Hello, she signed.
He gasped. “... you’re a toddler, and you sign?”
“We all do,” Daphne answered as Mary nodded. “Dean’s the ASL teacher at the high school, and we generally prefer to sign at home.”
“Can she speak?”
“Yup,” Mary chirped, nodding emphatically.
“Well, then.”
“It’s a comfort thing,” Sam explained, bringing in the coffee. “After Mom died, Dean didn’t feel like talking, so Dad taught him Sign, and he taught me. Even after he did start talking again, we liked signing to each other. And after we left Dad and came here... that was just the way it was.”
“You left your dad?”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears.
Sam sighed. “Guess I’d better begin at the beginning. Trish, you think the munchkins’ll sleep now that we’re home?”
“All but ours,” she sighed. “I think Mary’s up for the duration.”
Dean looked over at Michelle. “Well, she’s out, but I don’t know if I’d wake her if I moved.”
Daphne shook her head. “You won’t.”
“All right. I’ll go put her down. You can do the talking, Sammy.” He nodded at Henry, stood carefully, and left through the basement passageway.
Sam laughed behind his back. “Night, Dean!”
“Night,” Dean called back.
“So,” Sam sighed, sitting down. “Where to start....”
“Begin at the beginning,” Daphne said in her best Jerry Colonna voice, “and when you get to the end, stop.”
“Yeah, but where’s the beginning?” Sam asked.
“Start with Mama Mary, I guess,” Tricia replied, sitting down beside him. “That’s as good a place as any.”
So Sam did. He told Henry their whole life story, stopping to get a drink on the day after Dean’s 16th birthday-and their flight to Cazadore.
Mary snuggled against Henry’s chest, crying quietly.
Henry lowered his cheek to her head. “Shh, baby... it’s okay....”
“So here we are,” Sam finally concluded. “Dean and I teach at the high school; Josh is a full-time deputy. Daphne’s a librarian, and Tricia’s a manager at one of the motels. Dad’s under house arrest for a few more years, and he works at Mercer’s Garage. And in our spare time, Dad does research, and the rest of us are hunters.”
Henry’s lips curled. “Sam, I never wanted you to be hunters. Your destiny was supposed to be becoming Men of Letters, as I am and my father and grandfather before me.”
Mary jerked away from him at that.
“Tell me, Mr. Man of Letters,” Daphne said icily. “How many lives have you saved recently?”
Henry looked down at his great-granddaughter, unable to say a word, but he rubbed her back soothingly. She twisted away and crawled as fast as she could to Sam.
“You should know,” Tricia stated, “that in this town, hunters are heroes. And Sam and Dean are considered two of the best.”
“Then I should be proud of them,” Henry said. “Why did she react so badly to the word destiny?”
“We’ve had our fill of destiny,” Daphne snapped. “Angels and demons all trying to force our lives to fit a plan devised by Lucifer himself. We make our own destiny in Cazadore.”
Henry frowned. “I don’t understand....”
“That’s the plan Abaddon was talking about,” Sam replied. “Dean and I were supposed to start the Apocalypse. Dean was supposed to be Michael’s vessel, and I was supposed to be Lucifer’s. But we put a stop to that-with a little help from our friends.”
“But... that’s horrible!”
“It’s the truth.”
“It’s still horrible!”
Daphne stood, her eyes still flashing. “And if they’d gone your way, they’d have been wholly unprepared for it. Think about that, Mr. Hunters Are Scum. Good night.” And she stormed out.
Henry looked wide-eyed at Sam.
Sam sighed and rubbed Mary’s back. “Sorry. We should probably head on to bed; it’s a school night. C’mon up. I’ll show you the guest room.”
“She... is very opinionated.”
Tricia chuckled. “That’s what Papa John said, I think.”
Henry stood with a sigh and followed Sam to the guest room, where Sam pointed out the bathroom and other necessities and discovered a spare pair of pajamas in the dresser that Samuel had left behind. Henry dressed quickly and slid into the bed, feeling things tingle on his skin. The place was warded to the teeth.
Tricia poked her head in the door. “Need anything else?”
“That...was it all the truth?”
“Tip of the iceberg, really. But yeah, it’s true.”
“There’s... more?”
“A lot more. But nothing worth worrying over tonight. We’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
“Your sister-in-law hates me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. You did offend her, yes, and you’ll offend a lot of other people if you keep curling your lip every time someone mentions being a hunter. But Papa John got on her bad side at first, too-heck, he was even on my bad side at first. We’ve mended those fences. You’ve got time to mend yours.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. Before she left the room, he was asleep.
Tricia went into the nursery, where Sam was trying to soothe a fussy Mary. “Think Papa John comes by some things honestly,” she said with a sigh.
“Like?” he asked, rocking her ineffectually.
“Ability to make enemies thanks to inability to change his preconceptions. Hope I’m wrong about the last part.”
Mary wailed loudly.
Tricia took her and cuddled her. “Oh, little girl, what’s the trouble?”
She shook her head and clung to her.
“Wish you could tell me.” Tricia rubbed Mary’s back gently.
“Sa....” she whimpered.
Tricia blinked. “What was that?”
“Sa....”
Tricia frowned at Sam in confusion. “You want Daddy?”
She shook her head and pounded a tiny fist on her shoulder. She was frustrated.
Tricia rubbed her back some more. “Take it easy, sweetheart. We’re trying. Is it something about Sadie?”
She managed to make a “H” sound.
“Maybe I should call Cas,” Sam suggested.
Tricia nodded.
Sam closed his eyes. “Hey, Cas, you got a minute? Mary’s tryin’ to tell us something-”
Cas fluttered into the room before Sam could finish the thought.
“Oh, hey, thanks. Poor kid doesn’t have the words yet.”
She was sobbing openly.
Cas put a gentle hand on Mary’s head. “Hello, Mary. May I see what you’re thinking?”
She lowered her guard to let him see that the trouble was Henry and how upset he was and how upset he was making everyone.
Cas relayed that to Sam and Tricia before turning his attention back to Mary. “You want everyone to be happy, is that it?”
She nodded.
He caressed her face. “Sleep will help you all. And tomorrow you can help Henry start to learn better.”
She looked at him and nodded.
“Would you give me a hug now?”
Her tiny arms went around him, this impossible child with a heart as big as Heaven.
He cradled her close and whispered for her ears alone, “This is not your fault, Mary.”
“Sa... Sa....” Sad. Sad.
“I know. It will get better.”
She looked at him, and he saw the devastation. She felt if she had been there-that this would never have happened. Any of it. She could have kept them safe.
“Mary,” he breathed again, “this is not. your. fault.”
She wailed.
Rubbing her back, he walked away from Sam and Tricia so that they couldn’t overhear, even though he kept his voice low. “Henry was in danger before you were born. So was John. And your sons and their wives did a fine job of keeping themselves safe. Had you spared them that pain, who knows whether they could have convinced even the Prince of the Angels of his error?”
His words finally got through and she leaned against him.
“Rest now, Mary,” he said slightly louder, so Sam and Tricia could hear. “It will be okay. You’ll see.”
Her eyes slowly closed.
Once she was fully asleep, Cas handed her back to Tricia. “I think she’ll sleep through the night now.”
“Thank you, Cas,” she smiled. “You’ve got the right touch.” She moved to tuck her in.
Cas smiled. “Good night.” And he left.
Sam grinned and turned out the lights.
Next
In the Belly of the Whale
By Enola Jones and San Antonio Rose
Chapter 1
The Visitor
February 14, 2011
John waved good night to the kids and grandkids one last time and closed the front door. They’d decided to have Valentine’s Day dinner at Papaw’s house, and John’s face hurt from smiling and laughing so much.
The longer he lived here with his kids, the less he felt like he’d want to move on when his house arrest ended in another few years. He’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a family, a community, the way he was in Cazadore.
Spotting a forgotten toy in the middle of the living room floor, he chuckled and started to stoop to pick it up. But the toy was forgotten again when, with a sudden flash and a bang, the door of the downstairs closet flew open just long enough for a dark-haired man in a light blue suit to come tumbling out of it. By the time the door slammed shut again, John had his handgun drawn and aimed at the intruder.
“You move and I shoot,” he snarled. “Identify yourself!”
The man looked up-and John’s gut clenched as he saw a face that he hadn’t seen in over fifty years. “John? John, is... is that you? Don’t you know me?”
“... What are you?” he growled, even as he cursed the way the gun wavered slightly and the treacherous tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes. “Why are you wearing my father’s face?”
The man-shaped thing blinked. “Wh-what do you mean, what am I? I am your father. I’m Henry Winchester. The last time I saw you, I turned on the music box and told you I had to do something for work, and you asked about my tie pin, and I promised I’d tell you about it when you were older. It was 1958. Don’t... don’t you remember?”
“I remember. My father never came home-he ran out on me and my mother.”
The thing paled. “No... no, that’s not-I can’t....” It paused and swallowed hard, seeming to pull himself together. “Look, something happened that night. Something that caused me to go straight from that day to this. I need your help, John. I’ve got a demon on my tail, Abaddon, and there’s something I’ve got to keep safe from her.”
“I don’t believe you’re my father.”
Just then the front door burst open, and Sam and Dean ran back in, guns at the ready. “Dad?” Dean asked. “What’s goin’ on?”
“It says it’s my father,” John growled. “I don’t know what it is.”
The boys had it tied to a chair in a matter of seconds. Sam tested it with a silver knife, Dean with holy water; neither got any reaction except rolled eyes.
“I told you,” it-he-said. “I am Henry Winchester. I’m from Normal, Illinois. I am your father, John.”
“My father has been dead for over fifty years,” John growled. “But you’re human.”
“John, listen to me. I used a time travel spell-‘Blood leads to blood.’ You should know this. What level are you?”
“Level?” came from all three at once.
The man opened his mouth to explain, but suddenly there was a rumble from the closet.
Sam grunted and put a hand to his forehead. The last time John had seen that reaction, a demon had been close.
Dean ran to the door and signed frantically to the girls. John heard engines start and tires crunch as the girls got the grandkids out of harm’s way.
And a moment later, Bill Cooper strolled in. “I take it you mooks need backup?”
“Demon,” Sam croaked out.
And then the closet door flew open again and a statuesque redhead with blood on her ’50s-style dress strolled into the room.
Cooper waved a hand and suddenly Henry was free. Dean and Sam pulled him to stand behind a three-way wall of Winchester. And then they were behind a three-way wall of Cooper, as Mike and Cas appeared on either side of Bill.
“Abaddon,” Michael growled.
Her head swung around. “I don’t believe it,” she laughed lightly. “Does Daddy know you’re out past curfew, Angel?”
“Times have changed. The world has changed. Your plans are for naught.”
“Just let me have Winchester... and I am out of your time.”
“No dice, sister,” Bill retorted. “And if you’re thinking of going out the way you came in? Forget it.”
Her smile faltered. “... what?”
Bill snapped his fingers, and the walls glowed for a split second as wards that John might or might not have known were present briefly became visible even to the mortal eye. “You’re stuck.”
She growled and struck out with the telekinesis all demons had. But the angels weren’t fazed, and neither were the Winchesters or the wards. A couple of windows blew out, but that wasn’t enough to enable her to escape.
Michael’s sword flashed into his hand. “Who sent you, Abaddon?”
“I don’t answer to you, Featherbrain!”
“You do now, Destroyer.”
And then Carol turned up behind Abaddon, two arms forcing the demon to her knees while one hand pulled her head back and the fourth held a scimitar to her neck. “That’s my nickname, Archangel,” Carol said to Michael, but somehow John could tell her real irritation was reserved for Abaddon.
He bowed his head in a single, slow nod. “So sorry, Kali-ma. It would seem-Abaddon-that you face a united front.”
Abaddon snarled and tried to twist out of Carol’s grasp, but four more arms shot out to force her down.
“How many arms do you have, anyway?” Dean asked.
“Enough,” Carol replied, but she couldn’t keep a sparkle of amusement out of her eyes.
“What is this?” Abaddon snarled. “How could you have amassed this force so quickly, Man of Letters?”
“He didn’t,” Cas stated flatly. “Welcome to Cazadore.”
Her eyes blazed black and she put all her effort into breaking free.
But though she managed to shake off some of Carol’s hands, Michael pressed the point of his sword against her borrowed heart before she could get completely loose. “You have but one last chance,” he said. “Who sent you to kill the Men of Letters?”
She smirked at him. “You kill me-and one will rise to take my place. One way or another, you will face Lucifer.”
“Azazel is dead. The traitors in Heaven who would have aided your cause are dead. Lucifer will not rise until my Father deems it time.”
Her jaw dropped. “Azazel? My son is dead?”
Sam gasped. “Azazel is the one who took her place!”
“Well, ain’t nobody takin’ his place,” Dean growled.
Suddenly she screamed, “GIVE IT TO ME!” and tried to surge toward Henry.
As the Winchesters tightened their rank in front of Henry, Cas and Bill added their swords to Michael and Carol’s. Henry surreptitiously shoved something in John’s pocket.
“SPEAK!” Michael thundered.
“THE PLAN WILL NEVER BE DERAILED!”
“It HAS been derailed! It shall STAY derailed! Who sent you?”
The name was choked out of her. “LILITH!”
Three swords plunged into her heart at the same time, while Carol took her head.
Three Winchesters spun their backs as the demonic light show erupted, using their bodies to shield the smaller-framed Henry.
When it was over, Carol made her scimitar vanish and used her free hands to lift the corpse. “I’ll see to this,” she said. “Good night.” And she vanished.
“Thanks, Carol!” Bill called after her.
Michael snapped his fingers and cleaned up the mess. Henry was shaking.
Dean looked him over. “You okay there, Henry?”
Henry shook his head. “No... I... I...” Then he dashed to the kitchen and noisily lost his dinner.
Just about the time Henry got his stomach under control, Josh ran in, gun at the ready, but paused just inside the door. “Um. Hey. Did... did I miss all the fun?”
Dean snorted. “Nah, not all of it. Looks like we got another dead grandfather to deal with.”
Josh sighed and holstered his gun. “Great.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, Sadie said ‘Uh-oh’ about the same time Mary did?”
“How’d you guess?”
“You’re good, dude, but you’re not that good.”
Cas helped Henry stagger back into the living room and sit down on the couch. “Thank you,” Henry said. “S-sorry, it’s just... the adventures I prefer are usually of a literary nature.”
“You’re a librarian?” Sam asked, sitting by him.
“Of a sort. That’s not my day job; I’m an accountant. But I’m a member of the Men of Letters, as was my father and his father before him, every man in our family for... a thousand years, I guess. As you and John should have been.”
“What’s the Men of Letters?” John asked.
Henry hesitated, but Michael answered for him. “The Men of Letters were a society devoted to the preservation of knowledge about the supernatural. For centuries they served the world’s most elite hunters in much the same way Bobby Singer serves your network now. But they became arrogant, more proud of their elite status than concerned about serving and instructing others. Their numbers dwindled... and then Abaddon attacked.”
“And wiped them completely out,” Bill said.
Henry’s face lost what little color it had regained. “They’re all dead?” he asked quietly.
“The only reason you survived is that you jumped.”
Henry let out a shaky sigh. Cas pulled a cup of tea out of thin air and handed it to him.
John reached into his back pocket and pulled out the thing Henry had shoved in there: a gold-colored box with funky engravings on it, about the size of a pack of cards or of cigarettes. “What is this?”
“I’m not sure,” Henry admitted. “I was told to keep it safe.”
“Here,” said Josh, closing the door behind him as he came further into the room. “Let me see if I can get anything from it.”
Henry looked at him, clearly puzzled.
John handed the box to Josh, who ran his fingers over the surface and let his eyes go slightly unfocused as he concentrated. Then he shook his head. “It’s too well warded. I can’t tell what it is. Mostly I’m... I’m getting flashes from when he left, the night Abaddon attacked.” He paused. “I’m... not... sure no one else survived.”
“You’re psychic,” Henry gasped.
Josh focused on him and smiled a little wryly. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Kind of? That’s like saying you’re kind of pregnant....”
Everyone laughed. “I mean, I’m more sensitive than anything,” Josh clarified. “I don’t have visions like Sam does.”
Henry’s head swiveled around like he was slapped, his eyes huge.
Sam shrugged with a sheepish smile. “It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
Sam glanced at John, then back at Henry and sighed. “Look, why don’t you come stay with my wife and me tonight? We can get you up to speed in the morning and then figure out what to do about that box.”
“All right,” Henry said.
“We’ll set a watch,” said Michael. “Abaddon’s appearance may prompt some other demon to try again, wards or no wards.”
“But she’s dead.” Henry clearly was out of his depth.
“But Lilith is not.” And Michael was gone.
John stood. “Okay, everyone out of my house. It’s been a long night and I need to get some rest.”
“Yes, sir,” the boys chorused as Cas helped Henry to his feet. Josh opened the door and handed the box back to Henry as he passed, and then everyone but Bill trooped outside.
John watched them go, then closed the door. “I assume you’re staying.”
“Not for long,” Bill promised. “You do need your rest. But I do want to say one thing to you before I go. Ease up on your dad. It’s not his fault he got sent here.”
“I’ve spent a lifetime hating the man.”
“And look where it got you.”
John sighed and sank onto the couch.
“I’m not saying you have to be best friends right away. Just... try to forgive him. He’s here now. And your hate can’t do anything but hurt both of you.”
“He loves me.”
“He does. Remember that.” And Bill left.
John sat up, nursing a beer, until he went to bed.
Josh drove Henry, Sam, and Dean back to Sam’s house. Sam called Tricia to let her know the situation was under control, but they arrived to find three anxious wives and three fussy daughters waiting in Sam’s living room.
“Henry Winchester,” Sam introduced. “These are our wives and daughters.”
Michelle was shy and insisted on Dean holding her, but Sadie and Mary both regarded Henry curiously.
“Henry is Dad’s father,” Sam said. “Pulled forward in time.”
Mary’s eyes went huge.
Tricia took a deep breath and let it out again. “Well. Welcome to Cazadore, Henry.”
“Thank you... ma’am.”
“Tricia. I’m Sam’s wife, and this is our daughter Mary.”
“Good to meet you,” he whispered.
Daphne and Tiffany introduced themselves and the girls as well. Then the Robichauxs left, and Sam and Tricia went into the kitchen to get snacks and coffee for everyone.
Still wide-eyed, Mary crawled into Henry’s lap and patted his face.
He smiled, cradling her. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Hello, she signed.
He gasped. “... you’re a toddler, and you sign?”
“We all do,” Daphne answered as Mary nodded. “Dean’s the ASL teacher at the high school, and we generally prefer to sign at home.”
“Can she speak?”
“Yup,” Mary chirped, nodding emphatically.
“Well, then.”
“It’s a comfort thing,” Sam explained, bringing in the coffee. “After Mom died, Dean didn’t feel like talking, so Dad taught him Sign, and he taught me. Even after he did start talking again, we liked signing to each other. And after we left Dad and came here... that was just the way it was.”
“You left your dad?”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears.
Sam sighed. “Guess I’d better begin at the beginning. Trish, you think the munchkins’ll sleep now that we’re home?”
“All but ours,” she sighed. “I think Mary’s up for the duration.”
Dean looked over at Michelle. “Well, she’s out, but I don’t know if I’d wake her if I moved.”
Daphne shook her head. “You won’t.”
“All right. I’ll go put her down. You can do the talking, Sammy.” He nodded at Henry, stood carefully, and left through the basement passageway.
Sam laughed behind his back. “Night, Dean!”
“Night,” Dean called back.
“So,” Sam sighed, sitting down. “Where to start....”
“Begin at the beginning,” Daphne said in her best Jerry Colonna voice, “and when you get to the end, stop.”
“Yeah, but where’s the beginning?” Sam asked.
“Start with Mama Mary, I guess,” Tricia replied, sitting down beside him. “That’s as good a place as any.”
So Sam did. He told Henry their whole life story, stopping to get a drink on the day after Dean’s 16th birthday-and their flight to Cazadore.
Mary snuggled against Henry’s chest, crying quietly.
Henry lowered his cheek to her head. “Shh, baby... it’s okay....”
“So here we are,” Sam finally concluded. “Dean and I teach at the high school; Josh is a full-time deputy. Daphne’s a librarian, and Tricia’s a manager at one of the motels. Dad’s under house arrest for a few more years, and he works at Mercer’s Garage. And in our spare time, Dad does research, and the rest of us are hunters.”
Henry’s lips curled. “Sam, I never wanted you to be hunters. Your destiny was supposed to be becoming Men of Letters, as I am and my father and grandfather before me.”
Mary jerked away from him at that.
“Tell me, Mr. Man of Letters,” Daphne said icily. “How many lives have you saved recently?”
Henry looked down at his great-granddaughter, unable to say a word, but he rubbed her back soothingly. She twisted away and crawled as fast as she could to Sam.
“You should know,” Tricia stated, “that in this town, hunters are heroes. And Sam and Dean are considered two of the best.”
“Then I should be proud of them,” Henry said. “Why did she react so badly to the word destiny?”
“We’ve had our fill of destiny,” Daphne snapped. “Angels and demons all trying to force our lives to fit a plan devised by Lucifer himself. We make our own destiny in Cazadore.”
Henry frowned. “I don’t understand....”
“That’s the plan Abaddon was talking about,” Sam replied. “Dean and I were supposed to start the Apocalypse. Dean was supposed to be Michael’s vessel, and I was supposed to be Lucifer’s. But we put a stop to that-with a little help from our friends.”
“But... that’s horrible!”
“It’s the truth.”
“It’s still horrible!”
Daphne stood, her eyes still flashing. “And if they’d gone your way, they’d have been wholly unprepared for it. Think about that, Mr. Hunters Are Scum. Good night.” And she stormed out.
Henry looked wide-eyed at Sam.
Sam sighed and rubbed Mary’s back. “Sorry. We should probably head on to bed; it’s a school night. C’mon up. I’ll show you the guest room.”
“She... is very opinionated.”
Tricia chuckled. “That’s what Papa John said, I think.”
Henry stood with a sigh and followed Sam to the guest room, where Sam pointed out the bathroom and other necessities and discovered a spare pair of pajamas in the dresser that Samuel had left behind. Henry dressed quickly and slid into the bed, feeling things tingle on his skin. The place was warded to the teeth.
Tricia poked her head in the door. “Need anything else?”
“That...was it all the truth?”
“Tip of the iceberg, really. But yeah, it’s true.”
“There’s... more?”
“A lot more. But nothing worth worrying over tonight. We’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
“Your sister-in-law hates me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. You did offend her, yes, and you’ll offend a lot of other people if you keep curling your lip every time someone mentions being a hunter. But Papa John got on her bad side at first, too-heck, he was even on my bad side at first. We’ve mended those fences. You’ve got time to mend yours.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. Before she left the room, he was asleep.
Tricia went into the nursery, where Sam was trying to soothe a fussy Mary. “Think Papa John comes by some things honestly,” she said with a sigh.
“Like?” he asked, rocking her ineffectually.
“Ability to make enemies thanks to inability to change his preconceptions. Hope I’m wrong about the last part.”
Mary wailed loudly.
Tricia took her and cuddled her. “Oh, little girl, what’s the trouble?”
She shook her head and clung to her.
“Wish you could tell me.” Tricia rubbed Mary’s back gently.
“Sa....” she whimpered.
Tricia blinked. “What was that?”
“Sa....”
Tricia frowned at Sam in confusion. “You want Daddy?”
She shook her head and pounded a tiny fist on her shoulder. She was frustrated.
Tricia rubbed her back some more. “Take it easy, sweetheart. We’re trying. Is it something about Sadie?”
She managed to make a “H” sound.
“Maybe I should call Cas,” Sam suggested.
Tricia nodded.
Sam closed his eyes. “Hey, Cas, you got a minute? Mary’s tryin’ to tell us something-”
Cas fluttered into the room before Sam could finish the thought.
“Oh, hey, thanks. Poor kid doesn’t have the words yet.”
She was sobbing openly.
Cas put a gentle hand on Mary’s head. “Hello, Mary. May I see what you’re thinking?”
She lowered her guard to let him see that the trouble was Henry and how upset he was and how upset he was making everyone.
Cas relayed that to Sam and Tricia before turning his attention back to Mary. “You want everyone to be happy, is that it?”
She nodded.
He caressed her face. “Sleep will help you all. And tomorrow you can help Henry start to learn better.”
She looked at him and nodded.
“Would you give me a hug now?”
Her tiny arms went around him, this impossible child with a heart as big as Heaven.
He cradled her close and whispered for her ears alone, “This is not your fault, Mary.”
“Sa... Sa....” Sad. Sad.
“I know. It will get better.”
She looked at him, and he saw the devastation. She felt if she had been there-that this would never have happened. Any of it. She could have kept them safe.
“Mary,” he breathed again, “this is not. your. fault.”
She wailed.
Rubbing her back, he walked away from Sam and Tricia so that they couldn’t overhear, even though he kept his voice low. “Henry was in danger before you were born. So was John. And your sons and their wives did a fine job of keeping themselves safe. Had you spared them that pain, who knows whether they could have convinced even the Prince of the Angels of his error?”
His words finally got through and she leaned against him.
“Rest now, Mary,” he said slightly louder, so Sam and Tricia could hear. “It will be okay. You’ll see.”
Her eyes slowly closed.
Once she was fully asleep, Cas handed her back to Tricia. “I think she’ll sleep through the night now.”
“Thank you, Cas,” she smiled. “You’ve got the right touch.” She moved to tuck her in.
Cas smiled. “Good night.” And he left.
Sam grinned and turned out the lights.
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