Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wakes up, and everything’s a blank. No, that’s not true. He knows the basic facts. He knows he’s a hunter, and that he got injured on a hunt.

But other than that... nothing. Not even his name.

That makes him force his eyes open. He doesn’t even know his name.

He jumps up. He doesn’t seem to be badly hurt, and that’s something, he supposes; but he’d like to know where he is, and who he is, for that matter.

He’s in the middle of nowhere – empty field, by the looks from it.

Again, he’s wrong. Not quite empty.

There’s someone else lying near him.

He slowly walks up to the guy. Not bad looking he supposes; in his forties or fifties, beard, dressed the same way he is, jeans and t-shirt.

Also breathing, so at least he's not utterly alone.

The thought that he's not human crosses his mind. But what does it matter? He has no idea who he is, he's in a freaking wasteland, God alone knows what happened.

He kneels down and takes the guy's pulse. He groans, a hand reaching up, waving around. When nothing happens, his eyes crack open.

He smiles; figures he might as well appear friendly, whatever happens.

"Hi."

"Hello" he finally says, looking as confused as he feels. "Would you mind telling me what’s going on?"

British, sound like. That's something, he supposes – at least it' information.

"As soon as I find out you'll know" he promises, registering his own a cent sounds American and filing that away for now.

"Thanks. Mind helping me up?"

He does.

“Where are we?"

He shrugs.

"Not exactly the chattiest, are you."

"I don't have anything to say that's all" he replies while feeling that it doesn't sound like him- but how would he know?

"Fair enough."

"Are you a hunter?" he asks because it is the only thing he knows about himself and he has to begin with something.

The man hesitates, his green eyes studying his features (and he only then does he realize he has no idea what he himself looks like. God, this is crewed up). "I... Know what hunters are. And that demons exist."

"Alright, but you -"

"I don't know! I feel rather human, but..."

"Okay" he says. "Any bloodlust? Feeling like devouring me?"

"Not particularly" he answers. "Also no hunger for dead man 's flash, not feeling vengeful, just a bit peckish, in fact."

It makes him realize his own stomach is growling. "Fair enough. You got any money?"

After checking their pockets, they realize they're indeed broke. He sighs, somehow guessing that this is an all too familiar occurrence. "Guess we'll have to beg."

"Or steal" the guy supplies, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

He tells himself not to find it in any way attractive while he doesn't know what's going on yet.

Always an option, but maybe we should try the honest way first."

The guy hums. "Fair enough. We'll have to find someone to beg off first though."

They stumble across too many empty feels to count.

"What even is this place?" he complains. "Gloomy, rainy, grey..."

"Looks like Scotland to me" he says.

He throws him a suspicious glance. "How do you know this?"

"Just said it looks like it" he shoots back and he grits his teeth. There's no point in going after each other's throat.

"Sorry. A little nervous."

Why? Just because you woke up in no man’s land with no idea who you are and how you got there with another amnesiac?"

"Something like that. I don't even know what i look like."

"That's a pity. You are worth looking at, I'll admit that."

"You’re not so bad yourself" he says, winking.

Huh. Twenty minutes in and they're flirting while still being slightly wary of one another. Somehow, it feels natural.

They struggle on. Eventually they find a road and decide to follow it.

"Pretty sure you’re human" he says, "Otherwise we'd have noticed something by now."

"No moon out yet. Could be a werewolf."

"Think that's likely?"

"No but we should keep our options open."

"You’re probably right."

They finally reach a village. The sun has long since se, and he's starting to feel tired.

"Silverwell" he reads from the sign. Where the Hell - "

"Scotland, as I said" his companion states.

He doesn't quite know what to think of him. He has the suspicion there's more to him than meets the eye.

"Okay. So we're in Scotland. Means I, at least, am pretty far from home."

"You don’t know that. Could have moved to America from here when you were a child."

"Do you have to be the spirit that denies all the time?"

"One thing we know about you, I'd say."

"What?"

"You're the bookish type. Faust, really?"

"I felt like it." he doesn't feel bookish. Then again, how is that supposed to feel like? Not that it'd be a bad thing.

"I'm sure you did, darling. In other news, I’ve found us a bed for the night." he drawls.

He does his best to ignore the fact he said a bed and not beds. "What -"

He points towards a house at the end if the street. A sign proclaims "free bed & breakfast for anyone who stays the night in the haunted attic."

"What are the goddamn odds."

"It's a small world".

"What's our story?" he asks matter-of-factly. "Brothers sightseeing?"

“Don't think we look that much alike" he answer, gesturing towards a nearby shop window.

And this is how he gets his first glance of himself. Rather handsome, from what he can make out; a bit younger than his companion, tall, enough muscles to make his conviction that he's a hunter plausible, at least.

"I don't know." he squints. "Same eye colour."

"Because that is the first thing people notice about siblings. We know nothing about one another. It will be far easier to pretend we're a couple; if someone asks, we can say we haven't been together that long."

He has to concede the point. The familiarity of siblings is indeed something people tend to notice.

"Fine by me."

He grins at him, somewhat hungrily, but again not -

Get it together, you have no idea if you even know the guy.

"Names?" he asks to distract himself.

"Whatever you want; it's a clean slate."

He thinks.

"While you're busy contemplating" he says, "call me Roderick."

"Roderick? Why, you got a twin sister you are creepily obsessed with and who you buried alive?"

"Told you you're bookish. Toa answer your question, give people something to focus on and they won't pay attention to other aspects. Anyone I introduce myself to will wonder who settled me with that name and ignore everything else."

He has to admit it’s clever. "Good, but one of us should have a normal name. Call me Michael."

"Why Michael?"

"As good a name as any."

"Fair enough."

And so, newly-christened Michael and Roderick knock on the door that promises the an unquiet haunted night, but at least a night with a roof under their heads.

The lady who opens it looks nice enough. "Good evening! How can I help you fine specimen?"

Yep, they're in Scotland alright.

"We saw the sign, thought we'd try our luck" he greets her, grinning at her.

"That's of course up to you dearie, but I have to warn you: the ghost’s been haunting this place for over two hundred years, and several people have died of fright."

If he truly is a hunter, he has seen some things. And Roderick - for lack of another name - doesn't seem the type to scare easily either.

"Rosemary McRowan" she introduces herself, and Michael (again, for lack of a better name; he has to think of himself as someone) suppresses a smile.

"Michael Campbell" he improvises.

"Roderick Usher."

Michael shoots him an unimpressed look. He simply raises an eyebrow.

“Oh my, your parents really called you that?”

“At least it’s Poe and not Lovecraft, I wouldn’t even be able to pronounce it” he says with a charming smile.

Couldn’t Michael have landed amnesiac in Scotland with someone who wasn’t quite so attractive? It’s starting to annoy him.

Rosemary beams. “I guess you’re right. And you really are interested in the room?”

Michael and Roderick share a look.

“Depends” Michael says, “Can we borrow some salt?”

An hour later – Rosemary having insisted on feeding them when she realized the two had no bags and come to the right conclusion – they are sitting on the bed (one bed, of course, only one bed, because this whole thing wasn’t complicated enough) in the attic. It’s actually pretty nicely furnished; seems like Rosemary wants her guest comfortable as they get scared to death.

“Must be something in the attic” he muses. “With a ghost hanging around for centuries – they wouldn’t hang on that long to their bones.”

“Agreed. I would feel better if all the victims could have stuck to one story, though.”

Michael frowns; Roderick’s right. Naturally, there are several stories about the ghost, ranging from bloody bride to devilish monk. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

They don’t have to wait for long. At the stroke of midnight – and could it be more cliché? This ghost hardly deserves awards for creativity, in Michael’s opinion – the walls begin to shake and the groaning and bumping starts.

“Rosemary can sleep through this?” is all he asks, calmly getting up.

“She’s lived her all her life; She’s used to it” Roderick supplies in equally unfazed fashion. “Do you have the salt?”

He nods.

The ghost appears, and naturally it’s nothing like the witnesses described.

“A maid?” Roderick asks. That’s not very impressive –“

He’s thrown against the next well. “Hey, no offense. My mother was a maid!”

“You’re amnesiac” Michael reminds him, swinging the iron poker they found in the addict at the ghost and making her vanish, for the time being.

“Exactly, so she could very easily have been!”

He doesn’t answer, preferring to start looking for something, anything this ghost might have latched unto, trusting his partner to do the same.

Within a few minutes, he’s covered his half of the room and is reasonably certain there is nothing there –

“Michael!”

He turns around. Roderick is pointing at something about two feet over his head, a piece of cloth sticking out of the wall. With a jump, Michael’s at his side, Roderick helping him up –

An apron like the ghost is wearing. “Here” Michael says, shoving it into his hands, burn it before – “

He and the poker are both thrown around the room, and he grunts as he hits the floor. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, that’s for sure. The ghost is bending over him, an angry expression on her face.

Before she can reach out to him, Roderick lights the apron on fire and she vanishes in the flames with a scream.

He sits up, realizing that nothing’s broken, at least.

“Well done.”

“You’re welcome.”

Roderick holds out a hand and helps him up, and Michael is suddenly very aware of the fact that they’re touching for the first time – when both of them are conscious, that is.

“What do you think her story was?”

Roderick shrugs. “Maid in old times... Could be all sorts of things. The most likely motivator was vengeance, though.”

“Or love” he supplies, “Love is rather powerful too.”

Something or someone must have turned her into the ghost she became.

“If you say so.”

Roderick says that as if he’s never really experienced love, which doesn’t make any sense since they have no idea who they are, but still – Michael can’t help but feeling sorry for the guy.

“Yeah, well. Tell you one thing I know. We don’t make too bad a team when it comes to hunting.”

“Yes” Roderick agrees, “I guess we do.”

And as he gives him an actual rather adorable boyish grin, Michael can’t help but feel that maybe things don’t look so bleak for them after all.

Chapter Text

“Nothing?“ Sam asks helplessly, reading Cas‘ face as the angel appears in front of him.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Claire and the others have asked every hunter they know; none of them have seen Dean, and it can reasonably be assumed that they would recognize him. You’re well-known within the community.”

“I still don’t understand what happened” Sam says, trying to remember the exact chain of events once more.

Crowley stabs himself, and nothing makes sense anymore.

At least that’s how Sam will remember it.

All they know is that Lucifer, still as power-hungry and desperate as ever, has opened a portal to a world where the Apocalypse took place and plans to kill Michael there to take over.

Sam wasn’t prepared in the least for Crowley sacrificing himself for them – and as it seems, neither was Dean, for he’s just staring blankly at the corpse of the former king.

“Well” Lucifer drawls just as Cas appears behind them, “That was needlessly dramatic. Anyway, you’ve been quite the nuisance to me and I would rather you –“

Suddenly, his eyes sparkle in that way Sam remembers only too well from years down in Hell, and Dean abruptly starts dragging him and Cas away.

“That’s not a good sign” he hisses “We need to get out of here before –“

Lucifer laughs. “Yes, yes, a wonderful idea – making the Winchesters and their pets lose themselves. It will be…”

He trails off and raises a hand.

And that is when the other angels – Michael leading them, Sam presumes – attack.

Unfortunately, the spell has already taken half-effect, and with the Grace of the other angels, it all clashes, and next thing he knows, they’re running towards the portal and everything lying around is being thrown at them, Crowley’s corpse among the rubble.

He wonders if the picture would be somewhat grotesquely funny if they weren’t fleeing for their lives.

Dean shoves Cas through the portal before he can protest and gestures for Sam to get through first; he knows better than to argue.

But he still keeps an eye on him, and so he witnesses Crowley’s body smacking into Dean, and them both colliding with him before he can duck away.

They fall through the portal together, and then –

“Dean got through the portal. I am absolutely sure of it.”

“I see both him and Crowley as well” Cas says.

“That’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. Dean disappearing is one thing, but who’d want Crowley’s corpse?”

Again, Cas can only shrug before replying, “We have told every hunter we know, and even some creatures. If Dean shows up, we’ll know it. We will find him, Sam. We always do.”

He nods. He can only hope it will be soon.

Rosemary is ecstatic the next morning. “I can tell the spirit is gone – how did you boys do it?”

“We know a little about such things” Michael answers carefully.

“I cannot thank you enough – whoever they were, they have been suffering long enough.”

Michael nods. He’s feeling a bit… strange. Not because of the ghost… he knows he can handle those alright but –

Exactly because of that. Knowing how to do stuff, and having no idea why. Realizing he’s done this often before, but not remembering a single instance of it.

And then there’s this weird sense of déjà vu he got this morning after he woke up; Roderick was in the bathroom, but he could hear him muttering to himself about the bad quality of his clothes, and it almost seemed – it almost seemed –

“Well, then” Rosemary says, interrupting his train of thought, “I think I promised you breakfast…” Suddenly, her smile drops and she looks away. Michael glances at Roderick, noticing that his shoulders are tense. He noticed it too.

“I – “ Rosemary bites her lip. “I just never thought someone could actually do anything about it. And when you two… I thought you were just curious or homeless. I didn’t – you have to be, like my grandmother told me – but they said there were no more hunters…”

“Wait, you know about hunters? And what do you mean, there aren’t any?” Michael asks. There have to be hunters. Otherwise, who’s there to deal with ghosts and –

“The Men of Letters” she says quickly, almost as if it’s forbidden.

“The Men of Letters?” Roderick repeats. “I thought they were all gone – that is I am rather certain there are a few left in America –“

He sounds about as confused as Michael feels. There is something about the Men of Letters, he feels certain; something he should know, but doesn’t, which makes it rather likely that it has to do with his memories; and he pushed on too –

Excruciating pain almost lets him drop to his knees, but Roderick catches him.

“Michael? Are you alright?”

Actually showing he cares. Amazing.

The thought is accompanied by another small stab of pain, so Michael ignores it and takes a few deep breaths.

He has no idea what just happened, but it did as he concentrated on something specific,s something that might be connected with him. When he opens his eyes – Roderick having placed him on a chair in the kitchen in the meantime – he finds his… hunting partner studying him, a shrewd look in his eyes.

He thinks something’s up too.

“Sorry for that” he says, turning to Rosemary, “I’ve got a bit much on my mind, these days.”

She gives him a glass of water. “I’m sorry to hear it… do you want painkillers?”

He shakes his head; the pain is all but gone at this point. “No, thank you. but please, go on.”

She looks hesitant.

“Look” Roderick says calmly, “It sounds as if these Men of Letters are up to no good. I understand if you’re scared, but it seems we should be as well.”

Michael almost snorts; despite only having spent a day with the guy, he can’t imagine Roderick being scared of anything. He certainly took the whole waking up on a field with amnesia and a hunter next to him thing rather well.

Rosemary hesitates, then nods. “I guess you’ll need to know. We’ll talk over breakfast.”

Considering Michael is famished, it sounds nice.

“But first… Let me get you something else to dress. I still have a few of my late husband’s dress shirts, at least..”

He has to admit that it sounds heavenly. Their t-shirts have definitely seen better days.

While Roderick’s changing in the bathroom – he’s left the door partially open so they can talk, and Michael’s sitting down on Rosemary’s bed so he doesn’t catch a glance of something he has no business to see – they talk.

“What the hell happened to you back there?”

“I’m not sure” Michael says, taking off the dirty t-shirt. Thank God Rosemary’s husband was rather tall. “I was thinking about the Men of Letters and got the feeling I’d run into them before… or at least that I used to know more… and suddenly, my head started to hurt.”

It’s an understatement, but he has the feeling Roderick gets it anyway.

“And then when I stopped thinking about it…” he trails off, the shirt half unbuttoned. “It just… stopped. As if…”

“As if whatever caused our amnesia – I think we both agree that there must be a spell or curse or something else involved – made sure that we wouldn’t remember by building in a safeguard –“

Roderick stops talking and Michael raises his head to see him staring at him, his eyes lingering on the expanse of skin he can see through the shirt before he clears his throat and continues smoothly, “So that we wouldn’t even try and recall our past lives.”

Michael ignores their… moment and instead nods. “Sounds about right. Makes this whole thing even more damn inconvenient, though.”

“It seems to complicate the matter, I agree. But we’ve still got options. I would recommend not thinking too hard about things until we have a base of some sorts.”

“Alright, we’ll just play along for the time being, then” Michael says.

Roderick frowns. “I know this is the right thing to do, but I get the distinct feeling that I prefer having plans.”

“Well, it can’t be helped, your Highness” he says lightly, only to be treated to what he must have looked like when the spell made him regret ever having through about his past.

Roderick looks at him with a puzzled expression, then grimaces and crumbles to the ground before Michael can reach him.

He does what he can for him in the few minutes that he’s under but still feels rather disproportionately relieved when his eyes blink open. “So that’s what you meant. It’s rather unpleasant, I will admit that.”

He snorts.”You can say that again.”

Roderick sighs. “We really need to work on that.”

“We do, but in the meantime, there’s breakfast to be had and a lady’s waiting.”

Roderick raises an eyebrow. “We better not steal even more of her time, then.”

Michael helps him up and tells himself his hand doesn’t linger on his biceps for just a moment. 

Chapter Text

“You see“ Rosemary eventually begins after she’s served them breakfast, There’ve always been stories about hunters… about heroes who come and slay the monsters, or banish the ghosts. It’s only to be expected in an old country like ours.”

Michael nods. From his accent, he still thinks he’s American, but he can appreciate old tales and legends.

“But… fairy tales don’t work in the real world, do they. We don’t have hunters. We have the Men of letters.”

“From what I can remember” he says carefully, trying not to strain his memory at the same time because he doesn’t want to roll around the floor doubled over in pain again, “They used to pass information on to hunters they could trust –“

“Not that there were many of those around” Roderick interrupts him. “They were snobs, as I recall.”

Michael rolls his eyes, remembering how he complained about his clothes in the bathroom. If he had the money, Roderick would probably be the biggest snob of all. Weirdly enough, that thought doesn’t annoy him. Rather, he’s feeling something like… fondness and a sense of nostalgia he can’t explain.

“Yes, that’s what the stories tell us. But the Men of Letters here… Let me tell you what they said when I called them. I was growing desperate, you see – generations of our family had been plagued by the noises and everything, and I didn’t want to pass this on to our children too. So when I finally heard there was someone who could…. I managed to contact them.” Her voice grows hard. “A lady came to see me – very posh, very well dressed. Told me there was nothing they could do unless I paid them an extraordinary amount of money. Because they are “focusing their assets” on eradicating all monsters from –“

“Wait” Michael says, frowning. “All monsters? As in, vampires who don’t drink human blood too? Ghouls who just snack on dead bodies no one cares for? Kitsunes who procure what they need through transactions with morgues and hospitals?”

“I don’t know what the last are even supposed to be” she answers simply, “But yes. She made that very clear.”

Michael turns to Roderick. “But that’s – that’s –“

“Genocide” he says flatly, but Michael can see the anger in his eyes. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Wait, and there are no hunters around? The Men of letters do it themselves?”

“Yes. Everything. To me, it sounded like they even get rid of hunters who threaten to do their word for free. She made certain I understood that trying to find someone else to do the work would not be beneficial to me” she spits, “and yes, she used those exact words. It’s not like I could forget that; my Reginald had just died, and she lectured me like…” A sob interrupts her words and she buries her head in her hands.

“Hey” Michael says immediately, gently laying a hand on her shoulder, “We fixed it now, didn’t we? You’ll never be kept awake by that ghost again. And the Men of Letters don’t need to know. I’d say, keep the sign up for a few more weeks, just in case, then remove it and when anyone comes asking just say you’re resigned to living in a haunted house.”

“The best advice I could give” Roderick, who looks strangely unsure of himself, as if he’s almost relieved Michael is here because he’d have no idea what to do about Rosemary’s emotional outburst, drawls. “Just don’t answer any questions and act as if nothing’s changed. If what you say is true, the Men of Letters are otherwise occupied anyway. They probably don’t pay much attention to –“

Michael throws him a warning glace.

“Very nice ladies who live alone” he finishes smoothly.

“Thank you two dears” she sniffles. “It’s – it’s the relief, you know. All these years and finally…”

“Of course” Michael says, patting her shoulder. “And thank you for warning us about the Men of Letters.”

“You’re welcome, but it was really nothing. Promise me you will be careful?”

Michael looks at Roderick. They both know there’s little chance of them being anything careful over the next few days, especially if they try and figure out what happened to them in the first place.

They promise her regardless.

Later that morning, she manages to press twenty pounds into their hands, despite them trying their best to refuse it. She then draws them both into a hug, and it’s sort of amusing watching Roderick flinch, although it makes Michael question why he doesn’t seem to be used to physical affection.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be thinking the words physical affection and Roderick in the same sentence. This is difficult enough as it is. 

Again, Jody can give him nothing. Sam thanks her and hangs up.

He simply cannot understand it – he knows Dean made it through the portal, so he’s in their world, and Cas is an angel – surely he should be able to –

A new idea enters his mind and he stands up, calling for Cas.

The angel appears in the doorway, a sandwich in his hands.

“I thought they all taste like molecules to you.”

“They do, but Dean would say that you have to eat.”

Sam sighs; Cas is right, of course; he can’t remember when he last took a break. “Fine.”

Cas looks rather pleased with himself as he sits down.

“I’ve been thinking” Sam finally says, “Cas, you said you can feel longing…”

“That’s just it” he replies, looking down at the table. “Dean isn’t longing for me. Dean isn’t praying to me. He’s certainly not trying to contact me in any way.”

And that’s enough to raise several loud alarm bells. If Dean were conscious and coherent, he would do his outmost to let them know he was alright. Maybe a text that said Hey guys, was blown half across the world and am currently busy incinerating Crowley, but will come back as soon as his ashes are nothing but dust in the wind. Anything.

But there’s been nothing.

“Cas” he says, causing him to look up. “Do you think there’s a possibility that he is…”

“No” the angels answers firmly, so firmly that he can’t help buit be surprised. “Don’t get me wrong” he hastens to add, “If this was anyone else… but you and your brother have something of a… track record when it comes to cheating death. Even after the fact.”

Sam can’t help but smile. “That may be true, but we’re supposed to go to teh Empty…”

“I don’t think so. Not since I killed Billie –“

God, their lives are complicated.

“Fine, so say Dean is alive and well somewhere. What could keep him from telling us?”

“Lucifer’s spell” Cas says slowly. “I don’t know what exactly he wanted to do. He believed it would lead you  to – to “lose yourselves”, if I recall correctly?”

Sam nods. “Problem is I have no idea what this means. Dean is lost, that’s true, but as to how he can lose himself…”

It’s not a pleasant prospect, that’s for certain.

“Do you think it might be possible Dean was… thrown into another country?”

“Anything is possible when Lucifer is involved.”

Sam sighs. Looks like they have to search the whole world for his brother.

Chapter Text

“So where to go? We have a whole country full of whiskey and people with funny accents in front of us“ Michael says lightly once they’ve left Rosemary’s.

“I don’t think the accents are that funny” Roderick grumbles.

“No, but that’s probably in your genes”.

Roderick playfully shoves him away, and Michael might have welcomed the gesture if jhe wasn’t way too aware of his companion’s body heat.

“We definitely need a place we can ward against any supernatural being” Roderick decides before frowning.

“What is it?”

“Nothing – I just think that –“

“Hey!” Michael quickly reaches out and punches his shoulder. “Don’t you dare. I need you to keep your wits.”

It’s not difficult tor recognize the symptoms of an oncoming attack now that he’s seen it; and Roderick just had the same expression on his face he’d had before crumbling down on the floor.

He shakes his head. “You’re right, of course. But this may be more difficult than we anticipated. Not to think of something is almost impossible.”

“How to kill an idea” Michael agrees. He would lie if he said he’s not tempted to try and remember. Of course he is. What’s his real name? Does he have a family? Is anybody out there looking for him? Is anyone worried about him? “Say, do you…” he stops for a moment before continuing, “Do you think that someone’s out there searching for us?”

“For you, maybe. Don’t think it’s in the cars for me.”

Michael stares at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simply doesn’t feel as if I’ve left anyone behind, that is all” he says simply, and it’s the saddest thing Michael’s ever heard. Then again, it’s not like he can remember having heard much, so how is he to know?

“I’d go looking for you in a heartbeat” he promises. It’s true. Roderick’s the only constant he has now, when he can’t even attempt to remember who he is without experiencing pain.

Roderick’s silent for a moment. Then he says, “I have the feeling no one’s ever said that to me before.”

“I told you, don’t you – “

“I’m not saying I remember it. I’m not sure I even want to. It just… feels like I’ve been used to being lonely, that’s all.”

Damn it, why does he have to keep breaking Michael’s heart so casually, as if it didn’t matter one bit that apparently no one ever took care of him?

“In case it helps, I don’t feel very looked after either right now.”

Roderick throws him an unimpressed glance. “Who found the apron?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine, your – Thanks” he catches himself at the last moment. The last thing he wants is trigger another episode for either of them.

“Still, you were quite right to ask what we’re supposed to do now” Roderick muses.

“I think your idea with a base is not bad at all… If only we could find someplace that’s secluded enough to lay low for a while. I’m not too keen on meeting the Men of Letters, are you?”

“Not if they are anything like our fair friend described. Since we appear to be the victims of a spell, they might easily decide that we should be terminated.”

Michael nods; it certainly seems far more likely that they’d kill them on sight than try to help.

He doesn’t know anything about his career as a hunter, but he can feel the indignation at just killing anything that happens to like human blood now and then or has too many claws deep in his bones. He’s not like that, he’s sure. And Roderick doesn’t strike him as particularly bloodthirsty either.

“Well, we got twenty pounds between us… any idea how we are going to get out of the middle of nowhere?”

In the end, it’s not nearly as dramatic as he thought it might be. They simply walk down the street until they catch a ride from a sympathetic middle-aged man (“Just call my Toby, lads”) who apparently thinks they are tramps of some sort, but has enough belief in humanity that he trusts them not to cut his throat. He even buys their story that they’re a couple on a “ghost tour” (and Michael definitely doesn’t think about how no one who meets them seems to doubt that they’re together in the least).

“Aye, so I suppose you’re going to visit Hirta? The village on St. Kilda?”

Something tells Michael that it’s a small abandoned island. He must have read about it before. If he’s right, the people begged to be let off when several of them died during a harsh winter. All in all, not a place one would wish to stay for long.

He meets Roderick’s eyes and seems the same decision there he’s come to in a matter of seconds.

It’s perfect.

Granted, it doesn’t sound very homely, but as hunters (Michael has no doubt that Roderick is one, despite his uncertainty; guy can’t take care of a ghost that easily and never have banished one before) they must be used to having it rough. And at least an abandoned village should mean a few walls still standing, and if they’re lucky a roof under their head.

Getting there doesn’t turn out to be as easy as they hoped it would, of course. For a start, they have no money and are forced to pickpocket their way through the town Toby dropped them off in.

Roderick’s remarkably efficient at it, and Michael’s no beginner either, they soon find out.

“Say, do you feel in the least bad about all of this?” Michael asks that evening – they already have stolen and hustled enough to be able to afford a motel room.

Granted, it would have been enough for two rooms, so why they ended up in a queen bed again is anyone’s guess (Michael has decided not to think about it for now).

“No, why should I? We need the money, and we only took it from people who looked affluent or from douche bags who couldn’t wait to hustle us. Like a modern-day Robin Hood, really.”

“Just take care the sheriff doesn’t get you.”

“Please. Two of us against one sheriff? Plus, they don’t have them around here anymore, you know.”

“I guess” he says, lying back, his hands crossed under his head. He tends to forget they’re in Scotland… when he’s not reminded by an over-enthusiastic bagpipe player or someone talking to him and sounding like they’re about to beam him up to the Enterprise.

As Roderick pointed out, he could very well be from Scotland and simply have moved away later; but the country doesn’t feel like his home.

No, when he pictures home, he thinks of long empty stretches of road, a stiff breeze coming through a car’s window, rock music blaring from the radio, his bro–

He wakes up panting, Roderick leaning over him. “This doesn’t help, you know.”

“I wasn’t trying to remember” he spits. “I just thought of… home, that’s all.”

Roderick raises an eyebrow. “So, so. You thought of your home. Because no memories are ever associated with such a place –“

“Screw you” he replies as he pushed himself off the ebd and goes to the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

He looks at the unfamiliar face in the mirror and sighs. Roderick’s right, of course – it seems to be a rather annoying habit for him. Michael wasn’t actively trying to remember, but something about thinking of America triggered the spell, maybe because he was –

No. He forces himself to think of something different, of the things they’ll need to get by on the island. The moment passes.

Feeling somewhat bad about having snapped at him, he tries to apologize. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean –“

“Don’t worry about it. The consequences of your stupidity affecting your health are none of my concern.”

Michael flinches. Damn it. He’s upset. “How about we get some dinner?” he suggests.

Roderick sighs and shrugs. “Fine by me.”

In the end, Michael has to make up to him by desperate measures – in this case –

“How do you eat this?” he asks, staring at the Haggis on Roderick’s plate in terror.

“Easily enough. It’s an acquired taste.”

“And what makes you think I have acquired it?”

“Nothing, that’s why I am offering you a bite.”

Michael sighs. “Fine.”

It’s a bit unnecessary that Roderick actually feeds him with his own fork, but who is he to judge?

He manages not to gag. “Oh my God.”

Roderick grins. “Like I said, acquired.”

“You… menace” he mutters to himself, focusing on his own steak to get the taste of sheep insides out of his mouth.

“Sorry, are you talking to me or the Haggis?”

Michael snorts. At least Roderick’s entertaining.

“How long do you think until we can get out of here?”

“Two or three days more should do the trick.”

Michael nods. Only a few more days and they’ll be on an abandoned island that’s said to be haunted, trying to make sense of their lives.

At least they won’t be alone.

Chapter Text

Having assessed his situation, Roderick, as he has chosen to call himself, is certain of a few thing.

One, his memory has been wiped clear and he woke up on an empty field in Scotland.

Two, he’s by no means deficient – as a matter of fact, he’s starting to suspect that he’s downright clever – and he can accomplish anything he sets his mind on.

Three, his companion is way too attractive.

If Michael were not as able and smart as he is handsome, he probably would have left him by now, but the hunter is an asset he can’t afford to lose – suffering from the same affliction and quick on his feet.

Plus, Roderick has to admit (and for some reason, it makes him feel a little uneasy), he likes Michael. There’s something about that boyish charm of his…

Nothing can come of it, of course. Pursuing… anything at a time like this would be utterly foolish.

Still, he’s nice to look at.

Also rather efficient at stealing, but Roderick isn’t really one to judge in that regard.

Granted, to most people it might seem a tad insane to retreat to an empty island in the middle of the rough Scottish sea with someone he barely knows; but since their seems to be an anti-monster mafia going around that also happens to have something against hunters, it’s best to beat a graceful retreat. For now.

And Michael’s far from bad company, even regardless… Everything. He can be quite amusing, when he puts his mind to it.

Although he doesn’t know exactly what he’s working on at the moment. He’s been carefully sifting through his knowledge at night, when Michael’s asleep; more than once it has already brought on an attack, but since he usually goes to the bathroom before taking the risk, he has yet to wake the hunter.

He’s learned that he knows a lot, especially about lore and Hell. If he wonders for too long why that might be, the agony sets in. But it’s something, he guesses.

He has definitely met the Men of Letters before, too. Sadly, the pain obscures any details.

But.

His knowledge, while at certain times tainted by his memories, is still rather clear in his mind, and so he knows that there are merman along the Scottish coast. They might just get them to cooperate – they’ll need help getting supplies et cetera.

At times, the thought that he’s trying to make a deal with them has crossed his mind, but the unfortunate results learned him to avoid the word when he can.

He’s been wondering if he ever made a deal with a crossroads demon…

He shakes his head. He knows exactly where that train of thought will lead.

“Roderick? You okay?”

He looks at Michael and nods. “Don’t worry about me, darling.”

He rolls his eyes. “As if I ever… Come on, there’s an island we need to get to.”

And he understands that Michael’s very aware that something’s wrong, but is letting him off the hook for now.

It’s almost eerie, how quickly they’ve come to understand one another, and it fuels his suspicions that they must have known each other… before. They haven’t spoken about it of course, because that would at best lead to nothing and at worst leave them rolling around the floor at the same time.

“True.” They have made quite a bit of progress in the last three days, but there’s always more money to be stolen.

Sometimes he wonders why he doesn’t feel and in the least for committing petty theft, but that’s easily enough explained – it’s petty theft.

No, it sadly doesn’t mean that he’s an emotionless psychopath, because if he were, he certainly wouldn’t feel so drawn to… certain people.

Oh well. He’ll have enough time to figure out his no doubt tragic back story once they’re settled.

They have already managed to procure a boat while only getting a few surprised looks (the Scottish accent he discovered one night he can do rather convincingly certainly helped; Michael has caught on and is usually silent when they’re speaking to the locals). And his companion apparently has some knowledge how to stir it, too.

Strangely enough, the only thing Roderick can say about it is that it’s too modern for him, but every time he tries to explain that better, the pain hits.

“Why did you get so many burn phones?” Michael asks as they’re loading the boat.

“Wait and see” he answers.

Michael – pouts (he’s not cute, he tells himself. It doesn’t really work). “You know I tell you everything –“

“And that is always your first mistake. Trusting people.”

Michael shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a bit on edge too, with… everything that’s going on, but it doesn’t strike me as a very happy lifestyle.”

And he continues to load the boat while Roderick just stares at him.

It seems Michael will never run out of ways to surprise him, and it makes him slightly uneasy how intrigued he feels at that prospect.

“So?” Michael asks when they are on sea – thank God it’s a fine day, and the island isn’t that far off – “The burn phones. What aren’t you telling me?”

“We’re at sea. And not just any sea. That’s the Scottish coast right there.”

He’s learned by now that Michael knows far more than he believes – or rather, than he is aware of – and soon, his eyes widen.

“You mean –“

“Yep.”

He throws the phones into the water, citing an old Scottish verse as he does so.

Michael shakes his head. “Alright, I think you’re from around here. No one can talk like this unless –“

When he sees the expression of pain on his face, he stops talking.

Thankfully, the mermen reach the surface at that moment and distract Roderick from his own thoughts.

“How. That’s what I don’t understand. How can both Dena and a corpse just suddenly vanish with no trace. You should have been able to sense something, anything.”

Sam is slowly growing desperate. All these years of his brother at his side, fighting the good fight with him; not knowing where Dean is feels like suddenly missing a limb.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out” Cas answers simply, as always refusing to give up, thank God.

Sam thinks he would feel better if there was any development, anything at all.

He can’t know that today of all day is the day something finally happens.

They have just been calling around again, just in case someone forgot to let them know that Dean is alive and well (the odds are low, but their whole lives they’ve beaten them, so you never know) when there are three very distinct knocks on the bunker’s door.

Sam turns to Cas. He shakes his head. “Whoever it is has warded himself against –“

Another knock. A rather… impatient one.

If Crowley was still alive, Sam would imagine him to knock like that.

The door opens before either of them can react.

Sam couldn’t be more surprised at the sight in front of him, not even if Dean suddenly returned without an explanation.

“Hello, boys. Now, ruling Hell has been fun, but I am starting to grow impatient – where have you hidden my son?”

Silence.

It’s Cas who finally says, “We don’t know, Rowena.”

Chapter Text

Oh dear. Michael does his best to smile and nod at the mermen politely, but it’s rather difficult because the males are incredibly ugly, with big teeth, horns and bright red noses.

Merrows, something tells him. From Irish-English lore. They probably exist all over the United Kingdom. He looks at one of the mermaids who’ve come up with their male counterparts. She smiles and winks at him, but he knows better than to flirt. Merrows are said to be strong and keep the souls of those they drown under water in a glass jar.

“We greet you and accept your presents. How can we be of assistance?” one of the ugly ones, apparently the leader of the group, asks.

He lets Roderick do the talking. He has no idea if they’re used to American accents or not.

“We ask for your protection and for further exchanges of goods. We are on our way to Hirta; we are two hunters who need a safe place to stay for a while.”

“Scotland isn’t safe for hunters. The UK as a whole isn’t.”

“We’re aware, which is why we are moving to an abandoned island.”

“And what are you going to do once you are there?”

“We are under a spell, as I am sure you can tell, Lord of the Sea” Michael has no idea if that’s a formal title or not, but the merrow looks pleased, “a spell that we need to investigate and perhaps lift, if possible.”

“And if we hear something go bump in the dark, we’re probably going to take care of it” Michael adds because he is a hunter and what they’re doing is important. He only realizes he’s broken his resolve when one of the younger mermaids giggles.

“The pretty one is so honourable.”

Against his will, he feels himself blush.

“Yes, well” Roderick snaps, “As my companion just explained, we will only go after those who harm humans. We promise.”

The merrow hums and tilts his head in a gesture that seems oddly familiar, but that Michael cannot place. A throbbing in his head reminds him that he’s not to think of such things, especially not when he’s sitting on a boat in the Scottish sea. “Their souls are good. Human. I think we can risk it.”

To his surprise, Roderick flinches at being told his soul his good – it appears he’s too confused to answer; and so it is Michael who says, “thank you very much, Lord of the High Sea.”

“Quick learner too, I see. Well. It has been foretold that the Men of Letters shall not hunt us forever.”

Roderick has recovered at this point and chimes in. They’ll have tools, and wood, more than enough to repair some of the more intact houses; and furthermore, the merrows even seem to promise that they’ll bring them nourishment and clean clothes if they be in need of them.

“But how…” Michael trails off because looking at the mermaids and mermen in front of him, asking how they can possibly transport food and clothes through the water without anything getting wet feels foolish.

The leader smiles. “We will have an agent contacting you, don’t worry. Or rather… a friend.”

The uneasy smiles on the merrows’ faces let Michael believe that it’s all a bit more complicated than the terms “agent” and “friend” warrant, but it’s more than enough for now. Hell, it’s way more than what he assumed they’d have once they were actually camping on an abandoned island.

The merrows disappear as quickly as they came. “Nice trick” he says.

Roderick shrugs. “It seemed rather pointless to let the chance pass by.”

Michael nods, even as he starts getting suspicious. “Say, how did you know how to summon them? Don’t get me wrong, I know a few bits and pieces, but every time I go into too much detail, the spell reminds me that there were certain circumstances under which I acquired that particular knowledge and therefore –“

Roderick at least has the decency to look guilty.

“Damn it, man – what if one day you seize up and it doesn’t stop? And when do you do this anyway?”

“At night, mostly.”

Michael huffs. “Small wonder you have dark circles under your eyes.”

“I don’t need much sleep! I’m not used to it!”

“How would you know if you’re used to anything!?”Michael sighs. There’s no point in them arguing, as he well knows. “Will you at least promise me to be careful?”

“You say that as if you’re actually worried” Roderick answers and he’d probably make a joke out of it if he didn’t sound so confused about it. Seriously, what must his life been like before the spell?

They decide to move on and soon arrive at Hirta. Everything seems to be as abandoned and neglected as it’s been described, but when Michael pulls the EMF meter he built last night out of a busted-up walkman (Roderick called it “borderline clever” which did not make him blush at all) out of his pockets, it soon becomes clear that they’re indeed alone. No ghostly activity here.

“Of course” Roderick mutters, “never where they think it is, but show them one real hunting and they will happily have dinner parties there. Humans.”

“You’re one too” Michael reminds him.

“That may be… that may be” he says slowly, his gaze growing distant as if he’s trying to remember something, and Michael’s about to slap his shoulder when he comes out of it. “Well then, let’s see… there has to be a place we can set up somewhere.”

They actually do find a few houses that are not in that bad a shape, and one has a functioning roof plus a fire place. Check pot.

“I gather the wood and you unpack?” Michael jokes as they put their meagre belongings unto the one stull sturdy table.

“Anything you say, darling” he drawls.

One of these days, he’ll have to stop him calling him that, Michael knows, but it’s probably not this day because they really are in desperate need of some firewood. Of course they’d be dropped in the middle of Scotland instead of somewhere nice and warm, like California.

He could also do without the fog –

He blinks, realizing that a minute ago there was no fog, that he can’t see a thing, and that he has no idea where he is. He’s also feeling rather dizzy.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to think.

Can’t be a ghost. The EMF meter would have given them something, anything –

Fog – confusion – he’s near water –

He’s near water.

A water wraith.

“I know what you are!” he calls out. “And just so you know, you should be scared of me, not the other way around.”

A happy laugh surprises him. “They told me you were hunters.”

“They?”

“The merrows.”

The fog clears, and his head along with it. In front of him appears a young woman with sparkling green eyes and shoulder-long brunette hair, wearing a white flowing dress.

“Just had to see if you lived up to the hype” she says, smiling.

He knows he has to be careful. Water spirits are mercurial, and fro a good reason; their element can after all bring life and death.

“Are you the agent the merrows talked about?”

She nods. “Wrong word, of course; I am no one’s agent. I’m Mel.”

“Michael” he introduces himself.

She studies him. “And your real name?”

“Don’t know. As we told the merrows, we’ve been hit by some king of spell – made us forget who we are.”

She nods, as if he passed a test. “Yes, they did tell me. And there is certainly something on your soul…”

“The merrows didn’t say anything about that.”

She smiles again, but it looks a bit more unnerving than before. “I know, but what do they know? Merrows are good creatures, but no match for wraiths.”

He nods; it seems to be the safest answer.

“Say, while you were stumbling about, I glanced through the windows of your new home. Have you ever noticed anything strange about your companion?”

“No, should I?”

“It’s just that his souls has this… shine to it. Almost as if it were new.”

That’s… weird. “Are you sure?”

She laughs again. “Sure? I am never sure of anything. Comes with the territory.”

“I see. But you can help us, like the merrows said?”

“Of course. So what do you need?”

“I assume laptops with functioning wi-fi are not available?”

“Alright, two laptops.” She looks completely serious. “I assume food too… oh, and the local newspapers?”

“Why not.”

“It’s been a long while since we had hunters in Scotland… I think it’s a good thing you showed up.” Her expression turned slightly threatening. “Also, I made an exception for you today, but you should probably read up on the correct rituals. You know, they have their reasons.”

“I will.”

He probably only has to ask Roderick. Guy’s a freaking dictionary.

Certainly not a newly-born soul, as Mel suggested. But then, why would his soul appear that way? Michael’s doesn’t.

“That’s probably a good idea” she says cheerfully and he gets the impression he’ll never know if she can read his thoughts or is just bluffing. “There’s something about him, isn’t there?”

She vanishes into mist, laughing as she does so.

Michael will say this.

He’s lost his memory, he’s going to live on an abandoned island with a guy he can’t even say for certain he knows –

But at least he won’t be bored in the foreseeable future.

“He’s not dead” she says firmly – for about the thirtieth time in as many minutes.

“Rowena” Sam tries gently, “I saw him die. I watched him kill himself so we could get away.”

“He’d never give up like that.”

“He didn’t give up” Cas says. “He knew it was the only way to close the portal and save us. He did it for us. He died a hero.”

She stares at him – stares at an angel telling the truth – and Sam sees the moment she accepts that her son is gone, sees her shoulders slump in defeat for a moment and something like grief pass across her face before her expression grows hard and her eyes narrow. “I warned him about you, you know. I told him no good would come from hanging around you lot!”

Sam didn’t expect her anger to burn cold. He only understands when she says, “I suppose I’ll have to bring him back. Just show me where you burned his body, so I can use that as an anchor point –“

“His body disappeared when Dean did.”

“What?” She starts stalking up and down the war room, and he wants to intervene, but Cas lays a hand on his arm and shakes his head.

Sam wonders if angels can feel the longing of witches too, and if Cas knows just how badly she is hurting.

Because he wasn’t wrong about that touch of grief. This isn’t about power, this isn’t about consolidating Hell. This is about a mother trying to rescue the son she loved despite everything.

With shocking clarity, he suddenly realizes that part of him would be glad if she managed to save Crowley. Yes, he was an evil bastard, but they’d known him for years when he decided to kill himself – to sacrifice himself for them – and Dean would probably like to see him. They were friends, after all. Sort of.

“Rowena” he says, “How about this. You help us find Dean, and we’ll do everything we can to help you bring Crowley back.”

She turns to look at him. “I am supposed to believe you would go out of your way to help me resurrect the former King of Hell?”

“Yes” he says simply as Cas nods.

She sighs. “I guess a depressed hunter and an angel with torn wings is better than nothing.”

“That’s the spirit” Sam answers with more enthusiasm than he’s felt in quite a while.

True, they have no guarantee that Rowena will be of any help, but just like she said – it’s better than nothing.

Chapter Text

"A wraith? That makes sense. A water spirit, but still able to survive on land for a certain period of time.” Roderick sounds almost impressed.

Michael shrugs. “She seems a bit… odd.”

“You’re a hunter, and you’re calling a monster odd?”

“I have no idea what other monsters I have met so far!”

“True enough, but still, no point in letting prejudices cloud our judgement, is there.”

Michael huffs. “If she’d worked her magic on you –“

“She attacked you?” Roderick looks up from the fire place where they’ve been busy building up a source of warmth. There’s something about the expression on his face that makes Michael slightly uneasy; as if at this very moment he’s prepared to go and slaughter her with his bare hands, and it’s both somewhat charming and unsettling at the same time.

“Not really. Mostly, I think she just wanted to have some fun. You never know with water spirits.”

“True” he answers, relaxing slightly.

“Plus, don’t worry, I figured it out. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.”

That’s true, so why does Michael feel the need to point it out in the first place? It doesn’t make any sense. But then, what does? “Alright. So we’re basically cut off from the world on a small island, our only contact is a somewhat crazy wraith, and we still have no idea who we are. Am I missing something?”

“Yes” Roderick says simply, “We managed all of this on our own. I would say we’ll be fine.”

It’s a strangely comforting thought.

They carefully ward the whole place; Roderick comes up with some signs Michael is sure he has never seen in his life, but he trusts him they’ll work.

He’s finished painting a devil’s trap on the floor of the main room when Roderick enters, walks up to him and just… stops, looking down.

Michael studies his face, but there seems to be no pain as of yet. Just… confusion.

“What is it?” he asks, across from him on the floor, the trap between them. Roderick shakes his head.

“Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He nods because everything is better than thinking about it for too long and having to deal with the repercussions.

The dreams start that night.

They have made themselves as comfortable as they can; there is something like a bed in a room upstairs, but they decided against trying to sleep in that and so they make do with blankets on the floor. If Mel should prove trustworthy, beds are going to be high up on their wish list.

Until now, Michael hasn’t had a single dream, or at least he can’t remember them.

But this night…

You will break. It is only a matter of time before you do; why do you even fight? Oh, that’s right, because otherwise Daddy wouldn’t be proud of you. Let me tell you something, Dean – he never loved you. He cursed your name on my rack since he was only here because of you…

The words almost hurt more than the knife slicing into him. Almost.

He wakes up with a gasp, his head pounding, his heart racing. What was that? Wait – the headache – could it have been a mem-

Another stab of pain proves that it was, in fact, a memory, and by the time he catches his breath, he becomes aware of Roderick’s voice at the other end of the room.

He can’t really understand him – he seems to be beginning, but who, and for what, isn’t clear – but the grimace on his face proves that whatever he’s dreaming about, it’s far from pleasant.

“Roderick?”

He doesn’t react. Michael gets up and touches his shoulder –

He jumps up, almost hitting him in the process, his eyes wide and empty.

“Roderick?”

He blinks, shakes his head. “I – a dream.”

“A nightmare, you mean.”

Roderick frowns. “It seemed as if –“

“Don’t. If my experience is anything to go by, those are memories.”

And terrible ones at that. What kind of life must he have had to –

“Wait” he suddenly says. “I don’t have any scars.”

“Thanks for the information, but I don’t see how this is –“

“In my dream, there was – someone hurt me. It felt pretty bad, but there’s not a mark on me.”

“And we are under a spell that wiped out all our memories. Does anything really surprise you anymore?”

Roderick is still rather tense from his dream; it must have been even worse than Michael’s.

“He said my name” he remembers suddenly. “He said I –“

Roderick shoves him; not enough to make him stumble, but enough that he’s distracted for a second. “Thanks” he says once he realizes what he was about to do.

“You’re no good to me wailing from pain.” He says it lightly, but there’s a relief in seeing him back to normal.

“Guess that’s true. I’d say sleep is out of the question for me tonight. Wanna light the fireplace?”

Roderick looks like he wants to give another sarcastic answer, but then he just nods.

They don’t talk much. But they sit in front of the fireplace together, and somehow, it’s more comforting than Michael would have thought.

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep again, but somehow it happens.

The next morning, he wakes up feeling far more relaxed than he would have thought possible. His pillow is soft and comfortable, and –

Pillow? They don’t have those yet, so what –

The pillow moves, and he stiffens, realizing he’s been sleeping on Roderick.

“I have to say you got the better part of this bargain, and I don’t like it” he drawls.

Michael sits up, ginning down at him. “Too bad for you, then.”

Roderick’s eyes are sparkling playfully, and Michael begins to suspect that his biggest problem on Hirta won’t be the happy-go-lucky wraith or the genocidal Brits hell-bent on destroying everything supernatural in the country.

Rowena is remarkable efficient when she wants to be, as Sam well knows. Within half an hour, she has decided that spells best be cast in the war room and ordered them to look for certain rare ingredients in the bunker’s store rooms.

“Do you think she can actually locate Dean?” he asks Cas.

“If he were here, he’d probably say that it wouldn’t hurt to try” Cas replies, squinting at the contents of a box. “I am not entirely sure what this is, but it’s not what she needs.”

“You’re probably right. And – what the hell, that looks like a shrivelled up –“

Cas puts the box away. “The Men of Letters had many secrets.”

“Yes. But, Cas, about Rowena – I know we made the deal, but resurrecting Crowley –“

“I agree that we have had our… differences, but in the end, Crowley did the right thing. If it were me who had died saving you, you would be trying to get me back.”

It’s true.

Furthermore, Sam is rather sure that, considering everything, if he could, Dean would be trying to save the King of Hell too.

Former King of Hell. Whatever.

“I think this is mandrake root” he announces, grabbing something from a shelf.

They can worry about Crowley once they’ve found Dean.

Chapter Text

Whatever Sam expected from working with Rowena once more, it was certainly not nothing.

“What do you mean, nothing? You told us the spell should even let you know if Dean were dead –“

Much as the thought hurts, he’d find it hard to believe that this would mean he’d never see his brother again. Death doesn’t stick when it comes to them.

“I say nothing and I mean nothing. Wherever he is, alive or dead, he must have been warded or warded himself very carefully.”

“But who’d have that kind of mojo?”

“You’d be surprised. All it needs is a good understanding of the old runes. Fergus was always very efficient when it came to –“

She breaks off and looks away, and it’s still strange to see raw unfiltered emotion on her face. Sam wonders if she is hurting because she can’t use him anymore or because she’s actually grieving, then chides himself for the thought. If Crowley and Rowena had wanted each other dead, one of them would have been killed by now –

Well, by the other one. No one could have foreseen Crowley sacrificing himself. Except maybe Dean. But to ask his brother about that, he has to find him first.

“But this means we’re looking for someone with extensive rune knowledge, right?” Sam can’t read runes, and he’s rather sure Dean can’t either. He turns to Cas.

“Protections against other supernatural beings was never a priority in my garrison” Cas says, “But Sam is right.”

“Well” Rowena answers, “There aren’t many covens who specialize in things like that, I doubt many even know about protections that old. Surely with our angel pal here, it can’t be difficult to find them – unless they don’t want to be found.”

Sam snorts. “You think? You’re here.”

“I came to you, not the other way around. I’d waited long enough for Crowley.”

It’s the first time she’s ever used his chosen name when speaking about him, and Sam wonders what his reaction would be. Dean would probably laugh about it.

He nods, and she seems glad that he doesn’t answer.

When did things ever get so complicated that he’s trying to comfort the mother of the deceased King of Hell?

Michael is busy making breakfast, having offered to prepare their meal apparently rather out of embarrassment than appetite.

Roderick can empathize. Even though he’ll never admit it, he woke up a few minutes before Michael, and he spent them staring at him as the rising sun slowly illuminated his face.

It’s one thing to be stuck with someone rather pleasant on an island; quite another when this someone also happens to be handsome, charming, funny and kind.

He could have asked about his dreams last night. He didn’t.

He’ll have to tell him eventually, but first he has to make sense of them himself.

There was fire, and pain, and blood; but more, there was a joy about those things that was unsettling, and it’s left a heavy feeling in his stomach that somehow feels wrong, like he’s not used to… having a conscience, he supposes.

He kicks a pebble, utterly frustrated, and here’s somewhat giggle behind him. Giggle.

He turns to find the wraith Michael described. “Greetings, Mistress of the Waves.”

She nods approvingly. “Is there news?”

“No harm has befallen the island.”

She nods again. “There you go. Teach it to your pretty friend, alright?”

“I will do my best.” Not that he’ll have to try very hard. Michael could probably figure it out on his own if he gave him a little time.

“I wanted to talk to you in private” she says, stepping up to him, studying him with eyes of an unidentifiable colour. The gaze that lands on Roderick feels much older than she looks like, but she’s a wraith, the true embodiment of the water she spring from. She’s probably been on this earth for centuries at least… but time would mean nothing to her if he asked.

“I was right” she pronounces. “Your soul has this shine to it… like a newborn’s. As if it hadn’t existed until recently.”

His throat is suddenly dry. He swallows.

What she tells him confirms a suspicion that’s begun to form in his mind.

Sure, after they left Rosemary’s place, they tested themselves to make certain neither of them was a monster masquerading as man; but, human as he is now, he cannot help but think – but assume –

That he wasn’t always. And if his dreams are anything to go by…

“You are a strange one” she says, shaking her head. “But then, your companion isn’t quite what humans call normal either, is he. That’s fine. None of us nature spirits are, I think. Otherwise, we’d have given up long ago, with everything the humans are doing to destroy their planet.”

A sorrow older than either Roderick’s or Michael’s soul settles over her face. “Your souls though… they are clean.”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t agree?”

“What you see might be clean now, as you put it… but I don’t know what it was before.”

“Is that important?”

“You don’t understand” he says, then hastens to add, “And you can’t, Mel – if I may call you that?”

She told Michael it was her name, but who knows with these water spirits? Maybe she’s chosen a different one today.

She nods however, and he takes a deep breath before he continues, “You are ever-changing because that’s who you must be. What you must be. But us humans… We care who someone has been.”

“And neither of you know that” she replies, her eyes wide and curious.

“Correct.”

“Maybe you should try and find out who you are before you figure out what you were.”

It’s the closest he’ll get to useful advice with her concerning this, he knows. So he takes it.

“Thank you. Now, there are a few things we’d like to purchase…”

Breakfast is done by the time Roderick returns. “I met Mel. Told her what we needed.”

“Good. Thanks. Scrambled eggs okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Sometimes when Roderick thanks him, Michael feels weirdly surprised, as if he didn’t really expect him to. It doesn’t make much sense, but he’s getting used to that. After all, things are looking up from the field they arrived on.

“Say, do you know anything about a ritual we’re supposed to – I don’t know, use with Mel? She said something yesterday…”

“Oh yes, the old greeting. Don’t worry I can teach you:”

“You sure you were a hunter? Professor seems more likely.”

“Professor of what?”

“Mythology? Religion? No idea. Don’t think i went to college.”

“You’re smart enough” Roderick says, frowning, handing him to plates. Michael fills them quickly to hide his blush.

“Oh, I got that, don’t worry. If I weren’t, I’d hardly be alive now. I have to be, what, pushing forty?”

“You don’t look older than thirty-two” Roderick snorts. “I’m the one who has the experience here.”

“Of course, peaches” he answers lightly, handing him his plate. It almost feels… domestic. “Did Mel say anything that could shed light on our problem?”

“Which one?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“If you think I am a professor, I think I’ll have to ask you to specify.”

Michael definitely does not imagine Roderick as a professor then, maybe wearing glasses –

Oh God, he didn’t even know he was into that sort of thing. As if this wasn’t complicated enough already.

“What I meant is, did she see anything on your soul that might indicate who or what placed the spell on us?”

“No. She just told me exactly what you said she would.”

“The whole newborn thing?”

Roderick nods and pushes his plate away. “Look” he says, “I know this is far from ideal, but we have to trust one another unconditionally if we want to figure out what has been happening.” It’s obvious he’s forcing the words out, that he’d rather keep some of his cars close to his chest, but he’s right. They have to trust one another if they want to survive.

“I agree” Michael replies.

Another sharp nod. “Then you should know that… I might not have been human before all this happened.”

He stares at his companion. The thought certainly never occurred to him. Roderick acts very human. Smart, sometimes grumpy, sometimes downright joyful (his laugh is one of those things Miechal is determined not to talk about, no matter how honest they want to be with one another). “What else do you think you were? Werewolf? Vampire? Ghost?”

“Judging from my dreams… it could be something worse than that” he says slowly.

“What?”

“You were terrified in your dreams, right?”

“Of course. Someone slices into you –“

“But I was – doing things” he’s wording this carefully so neither of them will have an episode, Dean realizes, “And I was enjoying them. I think it might be possible that I was – evil. In some capacity.”

Silence falls over the table.

Finally, Michael makes a decision. “Look, I get what you’re saying. But right now? It doesn’t matter. As you said, we have to be honest with one another and – you’re human. That’s what matters. If we find out anything… we can deal with it.”

The look Roderick bestows on him is as astonished as it is grateful.

Chapter Text

After a few weeks of renovating their “quaint little cottage” as Roderick dubs it one day when he’s in a good mood, testing the limits of the spell until one of them crumbles to the floor, and getting everything they need from Mel – she doesn’t need much payment, and it’s usually rather strange stuff – like a cool leaf they found et cetera – Michael is starting to get cabin fever.

He knows very well that lying low is the best they can do, but when he finds an article online talking about strange deaths in a small Scottish town not that far away from where they are, he can’t help himself.

He shows it to Roderick.

“And you want to help.”

It’s not a question.

“Don’t worry, you can stay here –“

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m coming.”

And that is that.

When they go to see Mel to say goodbye for the time being (using the proper ritualistic greeting, as always), she studies them for a moment before asking, “How fast do you have to go there?”

“People are burning to death all over the place… better sooner than later” Michael answers honestly.

She nods. “Get your things and return here.”

They’ve already learned it’s best not to ask when Mel gives an order.

“What do you think she’s up to?” he asks Roderick regardless while they’re gathering the supplies they’ve procured.

Roderick shrugs. “Old nature magic. I wouldn’t count out anything at this point.”

And so, it is only with mild surprise that Michael hears Mel is ready to transport them to Craichidh and back.

“No offense” he asks, “but why? So far, you’ve always asked for –“

“You’re doing something good” she says simply. “And it will make the Men of Letters angry if there are hunters who are actually capable of doing the job.”

Of course she has an ulterior motive. But she’ll get them to the place they need to go, so he doesn’t say anything.

“You have to keep breathing” she tells them as she leads them to a small pond, “No matter what. That’s very important.”

And doesn’t that sound encouraging.

“Are you saying we need to… jump in there?” he asks.

“I assume you don’t simply want us to go for a swim?” Roderick inquires.

She laughs. “That would be funny, but no. Water has always been a gateway. Between destinations between earth, Heaven and Hell, other dimensions…”

“Other dimensions?” Michael asks.

“Nothing that has to concern you too.” She chuckles. “Although if you knew… but that’s not part of this story.”

Michael would very much like to know which stories would involved another universe but chooses not to think about it further. “So, keep breathing. What else do we have to do?”

“You just have to be careful not to get lost. If I were you, I’d hold hands.”

They haven’t really touched since they woke up – well, not exactly cuddling; Michael still stands by his opinion that he would have to make the conscious decision to do this in order for anything to be declared cuddling – but still, they’ve been rather careful around one another since then.

Now, Roderick simply takes his hand as if it’s no big thing. “Better this than losing you.”

“Worried for me, are you?”

“You hear Mel; can’t have you running around in another universe. God only knows what you’d get up to there” he grins.

“Right back at you.”

“Gentlemen, if you’re done flirting, I suggest we move… didn’t you say time is of the essence? Although it of course never is – for me.”

Michael thinks it’s better to simply nod than try and answer. Roderick’s hand feels surprisingly warm and right in his own, and oh God, he’s turning into a teenager.

Not that he’d know what kind of teenager he was at the time, but still.

In the end, it is as easy as stepping into the pond – and yet it isn’t. Forcing oneself to keep breathing even though one’s brain tells one to stop is rather difficult, in fact, and so is keeping orientated in the blue world they find themselves in. There’s a film in front of his eyes, and he blinks almost continuously just to keep an eye on Mel’s white dress, bright as always.

And then, suddenly, they’re on dry land again and his head clears.

“There now” she grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He shakes his head and glances at Roderick. “You alright?”

In fact, he seems annoyingly undisturbed. “Yes. Don’t worry.”

He realizes they’re still holding hands and lets Roderick’s go, blushing.

“Well, then. You deal with the phoenix, and call me when he is gone. I am sure you know the ritual?” she asks his companion.

Roderick knows, as could be expected, and she steps back in the lake they apparently came from.

“Sometimes I really don’t know…” Michael mumbles, looking after her, unsure what he’s even supposed not to know.

“I agree. Still, for a nature sprite, she is rather helpful.”

Michael notices he’s gone back to the Scottish accent he does so well. “Practicing?”

“Making sure I don’t screw up.”

“You won’t” he says with more sincerity than he meant. He doesn’t meet his eyes as he continues, “Did she say phoenix?”

“Yes. I would trust her. The victims have all been burned to death while nothing else was touched by fire – some idiots are already throwing around the term Spontaneous human combustion.”

“And here I thought Dickens was the last one to believe that one.”

“Humans will believe whatever they want” Roderick replies.

Sometimes Michael wonders why he tends to talk as if he’s not human himself.

“Alright then. Hunting down a phoenix. Shouldn’t be difficult to locate.”

As it turns out, Michael’s right. The phoenix was happily living his life amongst the humans until one of them killed his wife in a car accident (thinking about it too long makes Michael’s head throb, he’s learned by now to be careful) and now he’s taking revenge on everyone he ever perceived wronged him – problem is,. He’d gone a bit funny in the head, and now he thinks everyone in town did.

Their “rather dramatic showdown” as Roderick will later put it in the town cemetery at night (apparently he visits his wife’s grave every day after the sun his set – it’s almost romantic if you forget about the burned bodies) is cut down by an iron knife coming out of nowhere and burying itself in the phoenix’s back. He bursts into flames and collapses.

A young woman steps up to them.

Michael has no doubt that she can conceal it if she wishes, but the smell of grave immediately assaults his nostrils. “You’re a ghoul.”

“Yes” is all she says.

“And you just killed the phoenix.”

“They idiot was bringing attention to our town” she spits, “We don’t want the Men of Letters to find us.”

“I can understand that” he says, knowing that even though Roderick looks relaxed next to him, he is ready to attack if she were to make the slightest move –

“You’re not Men of Letters.”

“No. We’re hunters.”

“What kind?”

“The good kind. Have you been munching on any breathing folk lately?”

She draws herself up and glares at him. “Of course not. We only eat old bodies, and none anyone would miss. We pay good money for it, you know.”

He believes her, and he can tell Roderick does as well.

They both know they have to make a decision. He turns his head to look at Roderick. The moment their eyes meet, he knows they agree.

“well, then” he muses, “Seems like we should have a chat. You have a nice pub in town?”

The ghoul stares at them. “You’d have a drink with me?”

“Oh trust me” Roderick drawls. “That’s the smallest surprise you can look forward to with us.”

Chapter Text

She leads them to a pub that seems… just a little odd. For example, it’s rather weird that human just seem to pass the place by without even glancing at it. They’re in Scotland, after all.

“Monster bar?” Michael guesses.

“We’d be unable to see it if our fair leader hadn’t brought us here, I’d say” Roderick drawls.

“You’re absolutely correct.” She grins at him. “It’s a test, so to speak.”

A test? Michael needs a moment to think about it, but then he gets it. She has trusted them enough to bring them here. It’s time to see whether they trust her enough to enter.

He looks at Roderick, and once again, they seem to understand each other without speaking.

“Alright. I’m Michael, this is Roderick. We’re ready to have a drink with you in your creepy invisible bar.”

She smiles. “Aurelia.”

Roderick sniggers, and she shoots him a dark look. “Mum thought it’d be funny, alright?”

Michael shakes his head, thinking of a book by E. T. A. Hoffman. “It is. I mean, it’s not like you are trying to hide the fact that you are a ghoul, right?”

“Sh” she hisses, “Do you want everyone to know?”

“Of course not, Aurelia.”

She sighs and turns around. “Let’s go.”

“You ready?” he asks Roderick.

“You, me, and a bar full of monsters? Do you treat all your dates like this or am I just special.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Do you want a drink, or do you want to keep flirting? Because if you do, I can always come back when you’re done here.”

Michael blushes fiercely and moves towards the door. “We were only joking around.”

“Sure looked like it. Come on, you two love doves.”

He doesn’t look at Roderick as he follows her into the bar.

If they hoped for an inconspicuous entrance, they were sadly mistaken. As soon as they enter, a hush falls over the assembled monsters. Dean’s pretty sure he sees several vamps, and oh, how lovely, a coven of witches; and of course they’re near Ireland, so banshees are hanging around too.

“Nothing to see here” Aurelia calls out firmly, “If you need to know something, I’ll let you know.”

Almost immediately, they turn away from them.

Michael stares at her. “How did you –“

“We’re in the UK. In case you haven’t noticed we’re a bit old-fashioned. Family still means a lot over here, and my father’s rather important in the monster council.”

“You have a monster council?”

“Old-fashioned, I said. Still a relic from Mediaeval times, and doesn’t really do anything, but people respect it.”

Michael nods; makes sense to him. As much sense as a secret monster bar where all sorts of creepy crawlers just hang out, anyway. They make their way to the bar.

“Hey George” Aurelia greets the bartender. Michael can’t say what he is exactly, but he sniffs the air and his eyes narrow. “What are the two humans doing here, Auri?”

“They’re my guests, keep calm and hang on to your gold.”

Dragon, Michael decides. The most likely option, anyway.

Once they have ordered their drinks, Aurelia and them sit down at a table in a corner. “So I assume you know about the Men of letters, and that hunters hereabouts usually don’t have much iof a lifespan?”

“As a matter of fact yes, and yet here we are” Roderick drawls. “Feel free to be amazed at our courage.”

She rolls her eyes. “I will when I understand what you want.”

What they want… There are quite a few things that come to mind. Getting their memories back, for a start. But that’s not a conversation Michael’s ready to have until he knows her better. “We are thinking that things need to change around here. You can’t just kill monsters for what they are.”

“And here I thought most hunters would agree with them. I thought the methods were the issue, not the –“

“And that’s where you are wrong, at least with these hunters” Roderick interrupts her. “As long as monsters do not harm human beings intentionally, there’s no reason to eradicate them.”

“So you think you’ll – what? Gang up on them? All two of you against an organization that has been around for ages.”

“You have no idea what we are capable of if we want to be” is all Roderick says and somehow, despite not even knowing who they were before, Michael agrees with him. Whatever’s going to happen – he can’t deny they make a great team.

“If you say so” she says, shaking her head. “Truth is, I don’t know why I even brought you here, or why I am listening to you.”

“That’s easy enough” Michael answers. “We immediately knew what you are, and we didn’t attack you. It’s a first in your lifetime when it comes to hunting, I’d say.”

“You’d be right” she answers, studying them. “Fine, then. What exactly do you want?”

Michael shrugs. “Not much. Your number. Maybe call us in if you find a case? And we’d probably now and then have a few drinks here, if it’s okay with the rest of you.”

“Just like that. You simply appear here and decide to try and fix everything. Why?”

“It simply feels right” is the only answer he can give; and when he turns to Roderick for help, he cannot decipher the expression on his face.

“What a pair, the two of you” she sighs, “But I’ll have to explain bringing you here to the council eventually anyway, and having a plan against the Men of Letters might just get me out of trouble.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say we have one yet, but… well, if it helps.”

All hunters lie; he himself must have lied in his previous life quite frequently, so why would he mind? And Roderick’s certainly not a newbie too when it comes to deceit, he’s proven that by convincing every single Scottish human they meet that he is indeed a Scotsman himself.

Auri nods.

In the end, it’s by no means a bad evening.

They call Mel to help them return home (and why Hirta has become home so quickly, he can’t say) and once they’re safely back in their cottage, Michael shakes his head. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“A whole monster society having grown and developed despite the watchful eyes of the very posh British bastards in Scotland? Who would have guessed.”

He grins.”No need to be smug.”

“I assure you, that was never my intention.”

Michael knows better than to answer, so he starts making dinner.

“Well then” he says after they have eaten, “Looks like we meet a deal with a ghoul that we’d get rid of those British dicks.”

Roderick frowns at the word deal, but nods. “She certainly showed remarkable trust in us simply for not attacking her, as you said.”

“God knows what kind of life they must lead. They have to hide from birth, if the Men of Letters are as ruthless as everyone says they are.”

There’s something nagging at him, but he knows much better than to try and remember. He’d rather not end the evening catatonic.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Roderick suddenly asks. He’s not even looking at him, and he’s speaking quickly, almost as if he wants to get this over with.

“I think we could do some good –“

“No, I mean, with me.”

“What –“

“We have no idea what side I was on – before” Roderick says.

Michael frowns. “That’s a risk we both have to live with, surely –“

Roderick laughs, hard and sharp. “You? Look at you! You’re – you’re – nothing about you is evil!”

“Then tell me what brought this on, and why you think you’re so bad all of a sudden!”

“These monsters in the bar… they do what they have to do. My dreams suggest that I didn’t.”

“Roderick, you’re not making any sense.”

“I mean that – I mean that I never had to do the things I did in my dreams. I just enjoyed doing them.”

If he’s honest with himself, Michael’s been expecting a scene like this ever since he woke Roderick up from those dreams. They aren’t in the habit of keeping things from one another – mostly because there are very few things to keep hidden to begin with.

Roderick shakes his head. “Ugh. Having an emotional breakdown. How very human.”

“We all have to deal with those now and then” he argues. “That’s what makes us human.”

“Doesn’t feel very me to me to have one.”

“You have no idea who you are – or used to be. For all you know, this could just have been regular nightmares.”

“Even so – would you really start a revolution with me?”

“I know no one else I’d rather fight this fight with.”

Roderick stares at him.

A few seconds later, they are both laughing. There’s just something so utterly ridiculous about their whole situation, even if they might just be taken out by the British Men of Letters anytime they go out to hunt.

Once they have calmed down, Michael realizes just how close they’ve gotten during their little… episode.

And that Roderick’s eyes are quite fetching from this angle.

He licks his lips. Roderick’s gaze follows his tongue before returning to Michael’s eyes.

He’s about to lean in and do something he really knows he shouldn’t (it’s just been a rather strange day, alright?) when they are interrupted by something scratching at the door and letting out a short, angry bark. 

Chapter Text

“Tell me there isn’t a dog scratching at our door in the middle of nowhere“ Michael says, stepping away from Roderick.

“I see no point in denying the obvious.”

Another bark.

“What the Hell?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

More scratching.

“Seriously, what the Hell?”

“I fail to understand why I should repeat myself.”

He groans. And to think they almost... he shoves the thought far away. “Alright. Should we open the door?”

“I’d say it might be the better option... at least we have some modicum of control then.”

They get their weapons. Michael comes to stand right beside the door, Roderick a few feet in front of it. “Are you sure –“

“I trust you to take the appropriate measures if whatever is out there jumps me first.”

He nods and unlocks the door.

Next thing he knows, something invisible, huge and very excited barges past him right at Roderick, Michael about to pull the trigger of his gun when –

The – beast knocks Roderick over and, from what he can see, appears to start licking his face.

“You alright, man?”

“Yes” Roderick answers, somewhat out of breath, “She appears to be friendly.”

She? How the Hell does he know –

“Roderick” he says as calmly as he can, “That’s a hellhound.”

Has to be. It’s the only explanation he can think of for a big invisible dog.

It makes him incredibly uneasy, this feeling of – of –

Claws and teeth and pain everywhere, his skin is –

“Michael? Michael?”

He opens his eyes and groans. His head feels like he got run over by a truck.

Damn it, he fell into the spell’s trap again.

“Have you dealt with the –“

Something whines next to him and he closes his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re just... letting that thing stand there.”

“She’s not doing any harm!”

“It’s a hellhound” he repeats. “They’re sent from hell to –“

Another stab of pain makes him fall silent.

And then he feels it. A tentative lick at his left hand, accompanied by more whining, as if she’s trying to get him to feel better.

“See?” Roderick smiles at the dog he can’t see. “Good girl.”

This is the weirdest thing that has happened to them in a while. And in the last twenty-four hours they walked through a pond into a lake, sort-of befriended a ghoul, visited a monsters-only bar and casually decided to take down the Men of Letters for no other reason than the ghoul didn’t attack them on sight and it is sort of the right thing to do.

He sits up carefully, and the hellhound goes slightly nuts, barking happily and nuzzling his hand.

“She’s... actually not vicious.”

“Told you.”

Michael meets Roderick’s eyes. “No. I said no.”

Alright, a grown man should not be able to pull of puppy dog eyes (another small stab of pain, for whatever reason) so convincingly.

“She’s a hellhound. We are hunters –“

“Exactly. Imagine the possibilities!”

Reluctantly, he has to admit that she’d probably be an asset on dangerous cases.

“I’m going to call her Beatrice” Roderick states in a voice that brooks no argument. “I’ll ask Mel for some raw meat.”

With these words, he turns around to leave, and Michael would feel rather put out by it all if Roderick didn’t add, “And please, lie down again. You should rest for a bit.”

He does. Between having dealt with the phoenix (watched Auri do it, whatever) and the consequences of the spell, he’s rather exhausted and soon dozes off; sometime later, he feels a warm weight settle on his chest, panting happily, but he simply drifts back to sleep rather than think about it.

Next thing he knows, Roderick’s whispering, “Come on, no reason to wake –“

He blinks and sits up as soon as the – hellhound that’s apparently been only too glad to use his chest as a pillow gets off of him. “nah, I won’t sleep through the night if I nap around anyway.”

“If you say so.”

Roderick’s clearly still worried about him. Michael shrugs. “Pretty sure the memories I tried to access are especially bad and that’s why I had that reaction.”

“We can’t be reasonably sure of anything” he reminds him.

Michael’s eyes fall on the table. “Dude, is that pie?”

He hasn’t even taken a bite and he already knows he’s going to love it. In order to avoid another episode like the one from before, he doesn’t think too much about it.

“Yes.”

“How –“ he trails off when he sees the expression on Roderick’s face. “You prodded your memories again, didn’t you? You just saw me collapse –“

“Exactly, and I now can tell you that your theory that the worse the memory, the worse the pain might actually be correct” he interrupts him. “Barely cost me anything at all to decide you might want some pie.”

“So we did know one another before.”

Granted, that was more than likely anyway – why should someone cast a spell on two strangers and then leave them lying next to each other for no reason – but it is something. It also dispels any of Roderick’s strange notions that he might have been a bad guy, but Michael doesn’t mention it.

It’s pecan pie, and after taking one bite he decides it’s heaven on earth. Roderick’s busy feeding the – Beatrice.

“Why Beatrice?” he asks while he’s shovelling more pie into his mouth.

“I like Shakespeare.”

He snorts. “Meaning you want everyone else to know you like Shakespeare when you call to your doggie in public.”

“She isn’t mine, she’s ours – if we want to use her on hunts, she has to obey you, too.”

He doesn’t exactly look forward to training her, but then, there are worse things than having a hellhound at their beck and call. It might be a bit complicated toe explain it to their new friends, though.

“What did Mel say?”

“You know her; she accepts everything as part of nature. She didn’t even bat an eye when I told her about Beatrice, just smiled in that way of hers.”

“The one that says I know exactly what’s going on but wouldn’t tell you even if you asked?”

“Yep.”

Michael sighs. “At least she wasn’t angry. How much meat does a hellhound need anyway?”

“i’m rather sure they can catch their own food if need be” Roderick says, frowning.

“What a relief. Can’t say the same for the wildlife though, if there is any.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll be a good little girl, won’t you?”

Michael would object to the word little if Roderick playing around with her didn’t look so... well... cute.

He doubts he’d like to hear this, though.

Despite of them having almost... almost... what? It’s not like anything can happen between them. Sure, they might have known one another, but what exactly was their relationship before they woke up?

Good God, what if they are related?

He makes a mental note to take a DNA test. Can’t be difficult with the connections they’re building up.

At the same time, he doesn’t feel in the least worried. It just... seems wrong to assume they’re related. And they look nothing alike, either.

Beatrice walks over to the table and barks. He reaches out and manages to scratch her behind the ears.

“See? She likes you?”

He shrugs. “Maybe she just likes a good ear rub.”

Still, she’s certainly not as hostile as Michael would suppose hellhounds to be.

“Okay, then. Seems like we have a pet now.”

A normal one like a bird or some fish was probably too much to ask, anyway.

At least their home should be absolutely safe now.

Less than a week after the phoenix case, Auri comes to visit them. They weren’t expecting her so soon – to both of them, it seemed more probably that the monsters would need some more time to discuss their offer.

As soon as he’s opened the door, she rushes in and starts talking.

“Mel brought me here. Had to assure her I mean you know harm, and you know how it is – if you lie to Mel, you don’t get there alive. So...” she stops talking and that’s how Michael learns that monsters, or ghouls at least, can see hellhounds just fine.

“Hi Auri. You haven’t met our new pet yet – we are calling her Beatrice.”

Chapter Text

To her credit, Auri takes Beatrice’s presence rather well. “Hello, there... Beatrice.”

The hellhound doesn’t react until Roderick explains, “Beatrice, this is Aurelia. She’s a friend.” Then, she trots over the Auri and clearly demands to be patted. The ghoul obliges.

“She’s somewhat... different from what I pictured.”

“You’ve never seen a hellhound?” Michael asks.

She shrugs. “No. Monsters aren’t exactly known for making crossroad deals. All we have to look forward to is Purgatory, and we don’t have the desire to get an even worse option.” She studies the one in front of her. “She’s been through a bit of a hard time, I’d say.”

“Why?” Roderick asks immediately, and Michael suppresses a smile. He can act all tough if he wants, but he recognizes a softie when he sees one.

“There are a few claw marks, and – oh dear, that looks like she almost lost an eye, at least the scar’s pretty bad. Strange. Hellhounds normally don’t go after their own kind, and nothing else would be stupid enough to try and harm her.”

“Maybe they knew she was different. I don’t know for sure, but I am rather certain hellhounds don’t like playing fetch – unless they get to devour whatever it is they’re chasing at the end.”

“Nature versus nurture maybe” Roderick suggests.

“Who would take in a hellhound to raise them properly?”

Now Roderick looks downright offended, and Michael quickly adds, “Except for us, of course.”

Auri laughs and says something in Gaelic that has Roderick look at everything except Michael.

“What did you just –“

“Not important. But I spoke to the council. They are... interested. We have been living in the fear of being slaughtered for no other crime but existing for far too long. It’s just... until they are fully prepared to act beside you, they’ll observe how well you integrate yourselves into the community.”

It’s not a very enthusiastic answer, but once again Michael finds, looking at Roderick, that they’re thinking the same.

The monsters must be growing rather desperate if they are ready to contemplate a spontaneous offer from two hunters who can’t even give a satisfying account of themselves.

“Good. So we’ll just hunt when it’s necessary –“

“Mel has already agreed to transport and shield you when it’s necessary so the Men of Letters won’t find you... for now.”

Auri knows, just as they do, that Mel might easily change her mind any day. But it’s better than nothing, and Michael believes that she’s fond of them in her own way.

Alright then. So they’ll hunt whatever supernatural being harms others in the UK, hide from the Men of Letters, and do their best to get to know the monster society that’s been living under the radar.

What could possibly go wrong?

Several months later

Who would have thought banshees were such good bakers?

“This is excellent” he tells the Grim Soul one day. Turns out, banshees don’t really use names, but titles; he suspects this one is a bit of a joke, since the Grim Soul is a pure ray of sunshine when she’s not busy moaning about the moors.

She beams. “Thank you! I was experimenting a bit with a different sort of honey, this one is from – “

“I don’t think Mìcheal is very interested in your bees, sister“ the Silvery Lady interrupts her. If you asked him, he’d have named her Moaning Myrtle, but he’s not going to be the one to tell her. “It hardly befits our status that you should be baking, anyway.”

“I can’t just always run around and scream at people that their death is approaching, it’s so depressing.”

They’ve known each other for two months at this point, and Michael’s rather sure he hasn’t seen her sad once.

“Where’s Roderick anyway?” the Silvery Lady asks in a rather inelegant attempt to change the subject.

“He’s out training Beatrice.” Turns out, an abandoned island makes a pretty decent place for a hellhound to exercise.

“That cute little doggie!” the Grin Soul grins. “I’m so glad you took her in, she shouldn’t be alone.”

While Michael still wouldn’t call Beatrice cute, she’s already come in handy. Last week for example, a lamia got a little too close to Roderick, and she all but tore him apart.

“He shouldn’t be out too long, at a day like this” the Silvery Lady sorrowfully adds. “He will catch a cold and before you know it, we will be forced to sing our mournful songs –“

“Roderick isn’t a small boy with tuberculosis in the 1600s, sister. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Michael shakes his head. Their new normal has a tendency to be – well, anything but.

Beatrice is in a good mood today. She has been ever since she saved him from that lamia.

Still, it’s starting to grow rather cold and unpleasant.

He calls out to her, but she just continues playing around. He sighs. “Come on girl, Papa is feeling cold. You don’t want to keep Daddy waiting, do you?”

Not that he calls Michael her daddy in the other hunter’s earshot. God knows what that could lead to.

Although there was this moment, a few months ago, right before Beatrice found them...

Found them again, he is ready to bet, only that the spell is making it difficult to be sure.

The point is, ever since that day they have been... dancing around one another. Roderick made sure soon after that they were not related (and utterly ridiculous concept Michael brought up, probably due to morals and worries Roderick himself doesn’t possess) since there is a very friendly vampire working the night shift in a lab in the next town, but that didn’t bring them any closer to... well...

It’s utterly ridiculous to worry about any changes in their relationship when they have recently decided to take down an organization that has been ruling the monster world of Britain for centuries, just because – because –

That’s nagging at him, too. Michael of course immediately decided the monsters needed help, and that he was the one to do it. Not that he made the decision for Roderick, but it is rather frustrating to live with someone so good when he still believes he used to be anything but.

Then again, he’s working on his karma now, isn’t he? With or without hellhound.

Beatrice whines and bumps his hand. “So now you want to move?”

She must have noticed his foul mood; she’s remarkably attuned to his emotions. When he thinks about it too long, his head starts to ache.

Mostly, he’s grateful that Michael hasn’t noticed she obeys him as readily as Roderick – or rather, that he hasn’t yet come to wonder why.

Although his life as he knows it now began ten months ago on an empty field, he’s far from young. He should not feel butterflies in his stomach every time Michael looks at him, as if he was experiencing these emotions for the first time.

And yet he does.

Otherwise, it would be rather difficult to explain why he ever went along with all of this. At first, anyway.

Just like Michael, he’s come to treasure the friends they’ve made since the council allowed them to move freely in the monster society – even if Grim Soul’s enthusiasm can be a bit annoying at times.

Another point to worry over. Everything feels way to new, as if he’s not used to having any friends, and that is depressing as well as troubling.

Surely, even as a hunter, he must have made a few friends along the way? It only fuels his suspicions even more, that his past was rather... adventurous and not something that could possibly be mentioned to Michael or his other new friends.

In that case – what will happen if they suddenly remember who they were?

Beatrice whines again. He scratches her back. “Good girl. I am afraid we have to wait and see – and patience certainly has never been one of my virtues, I’m sure enough of that.”

Kansas

Months. Months. Almost a year, in fact. And none of Rowena’s spells, or Cas waiting for Dean’s prayers have brought a result.

Sam would give up his brother for lost if this wasn’t Dean they were talking about.

At least he’s forcing himself to eat and sleep these days, so Cas and their other friends won’t worry too much about him. Jody dropped by about half a year ago to read him the riot act; he’s been more careful ever since then.

He didn’t expect Rowena today, which is probably why she shows up. Crowley always delighted in arriving when he was least expected, too.

“I have a lead, Samuel.”

Chapter Text

It’s a surprise when Ailbeart visits them. Until now, the member of the council have mostly been satisfied with observing their progress from a distance – and of course through interrogating Auri how they are doing.

The ghoul’s father is one of the more severe members of the council, and was one of the most sceptical when they first met.

It’s taken them two months to get an invitation to the council’s meeting. Michael would dearly like to pretend that he isn’t nervous in the least, but Roderick has already come to know him too well.

“It’ll be fine” he says while he’s feeding Beatrice.

“How are you not worried?” he asks, checking himself in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

“How do you know I am not?”

Michael snorts. “Yeah, right. Come here, told you not to play around with her after you got dressed – your tie’s all crooked.”

“I forgot to ask, how’s your borderline OCD?”

“That’s... your borderline OCD” he mumbles, fixing Roderick’s tie. He’s already learned during their hunts that Roderick looks good in a suit, but since he insisted they need to dress well for the council, he’s wearing Armani for the first time today, and that is a sight Michael was not prepared for in the least.

Especially since a few weeks ago, Roderick contacted a vamp who works in a lab and had their DNA tested, a fact he casually mentioned over dinner one night, so they know they’re not related.

Michael thought something would follow that declaration, but nothing has, and it would be stupid to – well, anyway.

He clears his throat and steps away. “So, all fine now again.”

“What would I do without you, darling.”

“Crash and burn” he mutters, remembering that scene during their last hunt when a ghost almost threw Roderick through a brick wall before Michael could burn the bones.

“Don’t be so grumpy. Everything will be fine.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We’ve convinced everyone else we’ve come in contact with until now, haven’t we?”

He cannot argue with that.

The Council Hall is huge, probably to impart the importance of whatever gets debated here – at least that’s what Auri told them, sighing wearily as she explained that her father takes her duties very seriously despite having little actual power when it comes to daily monster life.

Ailbeart is sitting at the middle of a giant table, the other six council members equally divided on each side.

“Michael and Roderick. The men without last names.”

Roderick bows. “There is no need for last names, flath; the number of Michaels and Rodericks who happen to be hunters and are planning to strike the Men of Letters down is rather small.”

It’s a risk, as they both well know, but Ailbeart smirks. If Michael translated correctly (he’s been learning Scottish Gaelic for a while now, since all monsters they meet are fluent in it) he probably likes being called Prince.

“It seems so. Now, Aurelia has told us about your adventures.”

And yet she’s not here. Michael’s been suspecting for a while that her father puts quite a bit of pressure on her to fulfil her duties, and that she gets precious few rewards for it. It makes him uncomfortable in a way he cannot quite place.

Their relationship with the council has since improved, but neither of them would call Ailbeart a friend in the strict meaning of the word. Still, they politely invite him in. Roderick pours him a glass of wine, rather ceremoniously, but then, when isn’t he as dramatic as possible just for the sake of it?

Ailbeart sits down at their dining room table and studies their lodgings. “Aurelia tells me this place used to be abandoned and dirty. You have greatly improved matters, then.”

That much is true. As it turned out, most monsters eagerly accepted the help of two experienced hunters to stay under the radar and get rid of those who could bring the Men of Letters at their door, and after a few visits from enthusiastic fairies, three witches who babbled about monkey’s blood a lot and one leprechaun, their cabin is bigger from the inside than it looks, the water pressure in the newly installed showers is marvellous, they have memory foam in their mattresses, and the kitchen is better equipped than in their wildest dreams.

“I mostly came here to see the place for myself, since Aurelia has spoken about moving here.”

“Here? To Hirta?” It’s the first time Michael heard of it, but he wouldn’t have anything against a neighbour who’s a bit more... well... normal. Mel can be lovely, but she can also act like yesterday when she cried and brought a rainstorm because she found a dead fish in a brook not far from their house.

Plus, it would probably do Auri good to get away from under her old man’s thumb for a bit.

Roderick catches his eyes and winks; of course he knows what he’s thinking. “We would be honoured if we could help her set up. The cabin next to ours is in somewhat good repair, flath.”

Ailbeart nods, but they all know that’s not the only reason he’s come. People like him never take their time for a visit for one single reason.

“As I am certain you must be aware, I have certain... connections.”

Meaning he has spies in the Men of Letter’s organization. If Michael were in his position, he’d do the same; and Roderick would probably already have more than half their staff on his payroll.

“There have been some interesting developments.”

“Oh?” Michael asks carefully. Interesting developments in council speak can mean anything, from a new regulation to distribute human meat to those who need it to attention: Marks and Spencer now confirmed anti-monster, so don’t get your knickers from there.

“Yes. It seems it all began a few months ago... almost a year, now.”

He could just say around the time you showed up, but that wouldn’t be fun, would it. Sometimes he reminds Michael of Roderick in his more mischievous moods.

“What is it, if I may ask, flath?” Roderick inquires. Thank God for him. Always knows what to say.

“The Men of Letters have been in an... agreement with the ruler of Hell for a while now.”

Michael and Roderick rarely discuss Hell, because the spell is sure to make an appearance every time they try, so he asks carefully, “Ruler of Hell? You mean the devil?”

The twinge of pain on Roderick’s face tells him he’s feeling the beginning of a headache too, and so he concentrates on the present. It usually does the trick if he’s stubborn enough.

“No; it seems to have been some other demon, Crowley by name –“

That’s about as far as he comes before pain, crushing and blinding, lights every nerve in their bodies on fire. Thankfully, they pass out quickly.

When Michael wakes up, he’s in his new room, Auri leaning over him.

“Told you” Grim Soul’s cheerful voice calls out somewhere on his right, “A little bit of rest, and he’ll be right as rain.”

He forced himself to sit up despite his protests. “Roderick?”

Auri and Grim Soul trade a glance he doesn’t like. At all.

“He was somewhat – affected more than you” she says slowly. “Father, Mel and Silvery Lady are with him.”

Oh God. Both Mel and the Silvery Lady in a sick room? They might as well order the funeral. Michael’s out of bed faster than anyone can tell him to stop.

Roderick’s room is quite as large and comfortable as his own, if fitted with somewhat more grandiose furniture.

“How is he?” he demands as soon as he storms in.

Later, he will think it’s lucky none of the monsters took offence.

“He hasn’t woken up yet” Mel says, “But I can feel his soul. It’s still there, but... far away.”

“What do you mean, his soul is far away?”

“It means he needs something or someone to lead him back to us” Silvery Lady says sadly, “But it would have to be something very important to him, and as he cannot remember his past life, I cannot see...”

He ignores her and moves to Roderick’s side. He doesn’t look bad, only like he’s sleeping, eyes closed, breaths deep and even.

“Hey” he touches his hand. “No offense, but I can’t do this without you, and I won’t. You better get back, you hear me? You better get back to me.”

There are tears in his eyes, and he blinks them away. His companion for almost a year now, the one person he knows inside out, hell, probably the person he knows best since he doesn’t even know himself.

If he were to –

Roderick blinks and sits up. “Hello, Michael.”

He can only stare at him.

“That was... rather more easy than you made it sound” Mel informs Silvery Lady, who shrugs before explaining, “I could not predict that the something he needed was...”

Even she sounds vaguely amused, and that is something.

Well, then.

What the Hell is Michael supposed to do with that information?

“Would anyone care to clue me in on what’s been happening?” Roderick asks.

Wouldn’t Michael love to know an answer.

Chapter Text

The monsters seem to accept them as a unit right from the start. Auri introduces them everywhere as “Michael and Roderick” and they take it for granted that if they tell one of them, the other will know as well.

“They think we’re a couple, you know” Roderick tells him one night after they’ve helped out the three weird sisters who will eventually help them to redecorate their home.

Michael spits his drink. “What?”

“They think we are a couple” he repeats as if there’s nothing to it. Maybe there isn’t.

Hell, maybe they should –

No, definitely not. It’s something to know they’re not related, but that doesn’t mean that no one’s waiting for them somewhere.

And yet no one has come for you yet, a treacherous voice at the back of his mind says.

But what if that’s some kind of plan? What if they were dropped next to each other so they could... develop an attraction to one another (they’re both interested in men as well and somewhat handsome, so that would have been easy to foresee) and then...

Roderick would tell him he’s being paranoid.

“Well, then, what does it matter what three crazy witches think?”

“I wouldn’t call them crazy to their faces. Remember Macbeth.”

“Macbeth is fictional.”

“I would love to be sure of that.”

When he realizes Roderick is being serious, he shakes his head. “Come on. Must be your Scottish blood; you’re even starting to sound like them.”

“Am not” he sulks, but he must know Michael’s right. It’s small wonder that they’re assimilating, really – most monsters have eagerly welcomed them as a “beacon of hope” as a drunk leprechaun announced in the bar a few weeks ago and so they spend quite a bit of their time socializing. Even Michael’s American accent is slowly being mellowed out. He can easily play a MI6 agent these days, if necessary.

They end the discussion there.

They meet Grim Soul and Silvery Lady – as was to be expected, if anyone would have bothered to think about it – on a case when they save a small boy from a werewolf, thankfully before he gets infected.

After they have brought him home, trusting that his parents won’t believe his stories about the big scary monster attacking him, they turn around and find two women looking at them. The one in the silver dress is glaring at them, the other grins.

“That was amazing! Here we were, moaning and screeching, but instead of dying, the boy was saved!”

“I personally don’t see the merit” the one dressed in silver huffs. “There is a reason we have traditions, you know. It’s such a fine night too, for that sort of thing –“

“But sister, think about it – now the boy can grow up and have children, and that will be even more humans to bemoan eventually!”

“Banshees” Roderick says quietly and Michael shakes his head.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“So what are we supposed to do now?” the silver one asks, still looking as if the boy did in fact die, or maybe she’d look happier then, Michael has no idea. “This is what we do –“

“We could offer you a drink at George’s?”

She looks positively scandalized, but her sister bounces up and down. “What a wonderful idea! We so seldom go out to meet others – who survive the night, that is.”

Even Silvery Lady eventually warms up to them with the help of Craig. “You two seem to be a very devoted lánan” she tells them late at night, and only a few weeks later will Michael learn the term applies to married couples as well.

A fairy has offered to help them on a case. They got her address from Auri.

Michael is sure their friend simply decided to play a prank on them when she opens her door and exclaims, “Oh, you must be the couple Auri talked about!”

Almost.

To say the spell has once more managed to make everything so much more complicated would be an understatement. Michael has no idea what he’s supposed to do with the fact that he’s apparently the most important thing in Roderick’s life.

Then again...

Roderick is the person most important to him to, isn’t he? It’s not like he knows anyone else so well. It’s just logical.

But still, does that mean –

Who is he kidding. Of course it means exactly that. He hasn’t imagined the looks Roderick throws him, or how somehow when they touch, they will both linger, drawing as much strength from each other’s warmth as possible.

He knows very well that there’s something, that there has been something since they first laid eyes on one another, but that doesn’t mean they should do anything about it.

He barely hears the goodbyes of their friends as he shows them out; they are apparently eager to leave them alone.

To see Silvery Lady smile is almost disconcerting, and naturally Grim Soul is practically dancing around.

But then, there are other things to worry about.

He goes to Roderick’s room.

He is pacing up and down.

“You should probably lie –“

“Because that’s what you’re doing.”

“I wasn’t affected as badly as you were” he says, thinking of the words of the Silvery Lady. He could have lost Roderick today forever, lost the only thing that has made even a small amount of sense since he woke up in Scotland. He swallows.

“I’m tired of playing this game” Roderick announces out of the blue. “I am not a patient man, and neither a very tolerant one, I am afraid.”

Michael laughs. He can’t help it. The guy meets monsters on a daily basis, has even saved some of them, and he considers himself not tolerant?

“Roderick –“

“Michael.”

The silence that follows is full of meaning. The monsters call them all versions of their names they can think of – Rod, Roddy (he still thinks his... companion would have objected if it hadn’t been a six feet eight dragon talking to them), Mike, Mickey, it doesn’t really matter to them since they’re not their real names; but somehow, they’ve always called each other Michael and Roderick, never changing their routine.

“I think...” he finally begins, and Roderick snorts.

“That’s your problem. You think too much. You think all the time – what if this is all just one big evil plan? What if we have significant others waiting for us – which I don’t believe, by the way? What if the Men of Letters get to us before we get to them? What if what if what if, instead of focusing on what is standing right in front of you!”

“I don’t see how being overly dramatic is going to help us here – “

“Please” Roderick huffs, “Who has a right to be dramatic but me? Everyone here knows how much I want you! The monsters are gossiping about it! Mel brings it up to my face every time we meet! If we were in London, the whole city would know –“

“Are you trying to fit an Oscar Wilde quote into all of this –“

“Why shouldn’t I? You would have noticed, if you had any idea of... anything!”

“We don’t know if this is a good idea –“ he tries to interject.

“A good idea? Hell no! Nothing we have done has indicated that either of us is capable of those! We are planning to take down a very old organisation because monsters agree it’s a good plan, we went back to hunting despite not even knowing our own names, we live in the middle of an abandoned island –“

“Not that abandoned anymore if Auri moves here” he mutters, but he knows Roderick is right, in a way. There’s little reason to resist other than... well... there could be a reason hidden in the memories of their past lives. But the spell makes it impossible for them to even try to remember and...

Well, as Roderick just pointed out, everything about their lives is crazy. Why not do something for once that is guaranteed to make them feel good, if only for a while?

Granted, if he managed to bring Roderick back from – wherever the spell made his soul go with just his voice, they might be a few steps further than just “make each other feel good” but eh can deal with that later.

Roderick, studying his face, throws his hands in the air. “Finally!”

“What do you –“

Roderick grabs the collar of his shirt and proceeds to drag him into a kiss and he stops talking.

There is a certain softness to the moonlight that special night.

Mel doubts anyone else would understand, but she does.

She smiles.

So it happened.

As she knew it was meant to be from the moment she laid eyes on them.

Chapter Text

They haven’t been going on hunts for long before they hear the whispers.

Luckily, they don’t even have to try to repress the spell when they think about the rumours because they’re too ridiculous to consider true for one second, yet alone long enough to trigger the headaches.

“And then the elder one, I forget his name, but he did kill Death –“

“How do you kill Death?” Michael asks, frowning. “Last time I checked, people still died.”

“Yes, because there are reapers.”

“But reapers are his employees, more or less, so why should they –“

“I think you’re forgetting about the bigger picture” Roderick interrupts them smoothly. “My big question is why he killed Death to begin with.”

“Told you” George says, polishing yet another glass, “To save his little brother.”

“And how often have these two already done something similar? If you ask me, they could do with some alone time.”

“That’s family for you.”

He’s all but given up trying to figure out if he has relatives of his own, and he thought Roderick did the same, but know he can see him wince and gently pats his shoulder to startle him out of his thoughts.

“Thank you, Michael.”

George shakes his head. “You are two weird ones.”

“You’re one to talk. A dragon owns a bar... sounds like a joke to me.”

“I think you mean “Two hunters walk into a bar”” George winks. “Then again, at least you’re nice to look at.”

“You’re one to talk” Michael flirts back, “Say, is that rumour about dragons and gold true?”

“Why, are you expensive to keep?”

“I –“

“It’s been a long day, we should really be getting home” Roderick drawls, all but dragging Michael away.

George winks at him again.

Yes, in hindsight Michael decides that morning when he wakes up, Roderick really did let him know that he wanted him. Quite clearly, too.

But at least they are on the same page now.

With everything that happened yesterday, he almost forgot about Auri’s father explaining that the ghoul is thinking about moving to Hirta.

Why not. They can build their own monster refuge.

Or at least improve the neighbourhood a little.

He gets out of bed and finds Roderick making coffee in the kitchen.

“good morning.”

He smirks. “Good morning to you, too.”

“No need to be so cheeky” Michael mumbles. “Just because this happened to be the best night of my life –“

“Aha!”

“That I can remember.”

Roderick’s face falls and Michael takes the cup of coffee out of his hands, grinning. “Don’t try to con a con man – how would you put it? Ah yes, “I can tell you’re fibbing, darling”.”

“You barely need to imitate my accent anymore anyway. If you continue in this vain, nobody will be able to tell you were American once.”

Really, nothing has changed. Yes, they are together now in every sense of the word, but that’s about it.

More than that – it’s everything Michael could have hoped for.

The door bell rings. “That will probably be Auri” Roderick announces, moving to open the door.

He still surprises Michael with a quick kiss on his way out of the kitchen.

Roderick turns out to be right. The ghoul skips into their living room with an enthusiasm worthy of Grim Soul. “There are my two favourite love birds! I have to say, in the beginning I was rather mad at Father, but I am glad everything worked out well.”

“Still could have done without this little episode” Michael mumbles and is surprised when Roderick reaches out to squeeze his hand.

“Aren’t you tow adorable!”

“Auri!”

“Come on, you have to let us have a little fun! George was getting desperate! George! Said he flirted with you in order to make Roderick jealous, and you know these dragons only want one thing.”

“Virgins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Gold.”

“Knew the rumours were true.”

“That may be, let’s just say he’s pretty happy. He gave out rounds left and right last night.”

She grins. Michael has long since learned that certain monsters are barely affected by alcohol – his liver almost didn’t survive an encounter with a Kelpie a few months back. Thankfully Roderick was there to carry him home.

“And we missed it” Roderick says. “I feel left out.”

Get over it, he’ll just give you free drinks too when you show up at the bar. Did you really want to come with us yesterday?”

“Oh no, I had better things to do” he smirks, throwing Michael a glance.

He prays he’s not blushing but considering Auri’s grin it’s probably an idle hope.

“Anyway, you can probably guess why I am here.”

“Because you want to run away from daddy dearest to join two unstable hunters on a lonely island?” Roderick asks.

“You have such a way with words. Yes. I mean, where else am I going to find two people like you”

There, at least, Michael has to admit she’s right.

Kansas

“Okay, run that by me again” Sam says slowly.

“I thought you were supposed to be the smarter brother” Rowena sighs. “This is very old magic. I am surprised Lucifer even knew about it.”

“It might not have just been him” Cas points out. “We were literally jumping through a portal between worlds. Everything might have been possible at that moment...”

“Because you were at a turning point, so to speak, from where everything was” Rowena finishes. “Not bad ... angel.” She studies him with a look they’re all too familiar with; normally Crowley was busy thinking of a new insult when he was sporting that particular expression.

“Crowley used to call me Feathers” he replies lightly, “Now and then, at least. Naturally, there were other nicknames involved as well.”

Cas seems to get Rowena’s mourning process a little better than Sam has been able to. In moments like this, he misses Dean even more – his brother would know what to say.

“Sounds like him” she says stiffly. “So, Samuel, since Cas here mentioned my son – this has everything to do with him.”

Oh dear. If she’s convinced herself that Crowley is alive after all...

“Rowena, I saw –“

“I know, and I know that he is dead. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that.

“But” she says after taking a deep breath, “my point remains. “Losing oneself” in the old days, the very old days... The way I see it, it would almost be... poetic. As in, the victim would be returned to their place of origin in order to –“

“That would be Kansas, and I can assure you Dean isn’t here!”

It#s about the only thing they know for certain.

She smiles sadly. “That may be true. But then, you were not the only one caught in the crossfire, were you?”

Crowley’s body. Sam swallows. “Are you saying that Dean is in He-“

“Oh no. True origins. I believe he’s in Scotland.”

Sam stares at her.

Scotland.

The Men of Letters are going to attack them if they even dare so much as set a single foot in the UK. And they can hardly march in with a hunter army.

They are so, so screwed.

Chapter Text

It was only a matter of time, but still – nothing prepared them for seeing the Men of Letters in action.

They’re in Edinburgh, finishing up a case when Auri calls them. Thankfully, she’s part of the group of monsters who have nothing against modern technology. “The Men of Letters are on the move.”

Michael is as amazed as always how well the monster network is organized. “Where?”

“Exactly where you are, so I’d lie low, or better yet – get out of town.”

“Might as well check them out while we’re here” Roderick says, laying a hand on the small of Michael’s back. “After all we’re supposed to bring them down; we should get some first-hand experience.”

“Just please don’t kill yourself before I have the chance to drive you insane by becoming the neighbour who gnaws on corpses in the middle of the night.”

“You really think I haven’t seen weirder?” Michael asks drily. “Don’t worry, we won’t be seen.”

They aren’t, but what they can make out from their hiding spot is hardly encouraging. From what they can tell, it seems there’s a psychic kid running around (it gives him a sense of déjà vue he’s not interested in exploring, thank you very much) and they arrive just in time to see –

Roderick grabs his arm. “It’s too late.”

“But they are –“

“Remember, family of four. There were six shots, all fired from the same weapon. I’m sorry.”

He’s right, of course, but it does little to make Michael feel better as they watch two men wearing identical suits get into a non-descript black car and drive off.

They move at once.

Half an hour later, they’re sitting in a pub. Michael clutches his whiskey and mumbles, “The boy can’t have been more than five years old.”

Roderick hums. “It certainly seems like the situation is even grimmer than we thought.”

“Why would they kill the whole family?” A second later, he answers his own question. “Witnesses, of course. I’m an idiot.”

Roderick reaches out and takes his hand. “You’re not, love. You’re just human.”

They normally don’t go for pet names that they actually mean, or PDA, and Michael glances around to see if anyone is offended, but all he gets is a bright grin from an old lady nearby.

“Yeah, well” he answers, turning his hand to intertwine their fingers, “At least we’re not in this alone.”

“Exactly.”

“What we could need” he muses, “is an inside man.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t see many of our acquaintance passing the tests the Men in Letters certainly demand from their recruits.”

“That’s true. But what are we supposed to do then –“

“There are more ways to destroy an organization than from the inside” Roderick grins in a way that has Michael suspect he might be familiar with the concept, if he could remember. “First of all, we’ll collect all the information we can and then... well our little abode can’t be the only place where monsters are living in the underground, waiting for someone to rid them of the evil ones, right?”

“Run over them through numbers?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I think we got rather lucky with our bunch of monsters. I don’t expect many others would be as happy to see humans, even if they do promise help.”

“Who can blame them” Michael mutters, remembering the little boy’s body, his face still bearing an expression of fear. “Bastards.”

“I agree. I see why one can be prejudiced against monsters, but advocating genocide seems a little excessive.”

“And they probably have help from Hell.”

Their friends have so far abstained from mentioning Ailbeart’s information again – probably for fear of triggering the spell – and that’s probably for the best, considering they can’t even recall the name that brought on the episode.

Still, though – the Men of Letters seem to have some sort of agreement with Hell, and if that is true...

“Please. We can handle a few black-eyes bastards, no problem” Roderick spits. For some reason, he’s pretty hostile when it comes to demons – so much so that Michael’s secretly glad they haven’t yet met one. Must be that deal with the Men of Letters. They probably keep strictly to the crossroads business in the UK.

“Probably. I mean, technically they are just evil spirits.”

Roderick nods and looks away, his hand slipping out of Michael’s grasp. He must have had some pretty bad run-ins with those damn things seeing how easily the thought upsets him. Normally he’s rather unflappable.

“Hey” he says, “I meant it. We’ll just blaze through any demons we happen to meet – if it makes you feel better, you can fill them with salt before we exorcize them.”

“Would this involve a shotgun?”

“If we are speaking of exorcism, I wouldn’t do that. The body should be... well, able to survive afterwards.”

“Pity.” But there’s a gleam in his eyes that tells Michael he doesn’t mean it. “Say” he adds when he has an epiphany. “I know we said monsters probably can’t come near them, but what if...”

“What is it?” Roderick asks when he trails off.

“men of Letters – they have a dangerous job, don’t they? Now and then something must go wrong and I am certain a number of them unfortunately perish when it does. And if they do so in Scotland and near anything supernatural, shouldn’t there be –“

Roderick smirks. “Silvery Lady is going to love that assignment.”

He’s about to answer when a guy who just stumbled out of the bar and who’s clearly three sheets to the wind returns and slurs, “There’s an invisible dog in the parking lot, lads!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Reg, and give me your keys – you’re not driving on my watch, pal.”

The bartender’s scowling is all the distraction they need to steal out and collect Beatrice.

“You were supposed to stay at home” Michael announces, but the stern effect he’s going for is somewhat ruined by Roderick marvelling over her having followed them to Edinburgh on her own.

“She missed her Papa”.

He shakes his head. “You two, I swear.”

“Jealous?” Roderick looks up from petting Beatrice and raises an eyebrow in a clear challenge.

“Why, should I be?”

Roderick’s smirk turns predatory. “I think I could give you a few reasons to –“

“Don’t you dare, I have it from a reliable source that I’m pretty good with a knife and a gun.”

“So you are jealous.”

“Maybe just possessive.”

“I can show you pos-“

Beatrice whines.

“Alright, alright” Michael laughs, “Better get out of here before another drunk notices our dog isn’t perfectly normal.”

“Haven’t you learned yet, darling” Roderick drawls, taking his hand and dragging him towards their motel, “It’s always the others who are strange.”

Kansas

“Sorry, but I have to repeat this for it to make sense” Jody says slowly. “You think Dean is in Scotland.”

“Yes.”

“The very same place the Men of Letters come from.”

“Aye, you try to say that to one of my fellow countrymen –“

“Rowena” Sam says tiredly. “Please.”

“So he’s in the UK” Jody corrects herself, “Or at least that’s what you think.”

“It’s a distinct possibility” Rowena answers. “The spell hit – the spell hit Fergus first, you see, since he was just lying there –“

Her voice shakes just a little, but Jody is not a sheriff for nothing. “He did the right thing” she says softly, and when Rowena looks at her, for once she doesn’t deflect or ignore the comment.

“That may be. But I’d rather have a living son than a dead hero.”

“I can understand that.”

Something indescribable passes between the two of them, both grieving mothers, both experiencing emotions no one else could name. Finally, Rowena nods and looks away.

“Can we make sure Dean’s there? I’d rather stay away from the hornet’s nest until we know for certain –“

“Jody, you wouldn’t –“

“Don’t be silly. Of course I would help.”

He gives her a grateful smile.

Chapter Text

“You want us to do what?“

As Roderick predicted, Silvery Lady loves their idea.

Grim Soul is much more cheerful at the prospect, but then she always is. “Think of all the people we could help if it works!”

“Helping is not what we do” Silvery Lady says stiffly. “And neither is befriending mortals for that matter, or going to bars, or –“

“But this has been so much fun! You said so yourself!”

Michael cannot imagine a less likely sentence to fall from her lips until Beatrice barks and Silvery Lady looks down on her, something like a smile passing her face.

“What would your plan entail? And I am not asking because I agree to do it. I need more information before I make a decision” she states, clearly pretending that she hasn’t been won over already.

“Well. The Men of Letters are active in Scotland, that much we know. And they do bring death and destruction. So if you could – “

“You want us to bemoan their victims? That could easily be arranged, but it would be – “

“Oh now” Roderick says happily. “We want you to frighten them and then deceive them.”

“Sounds manipulative.”

“Exactly” Roderick grins, looking almost boyish in his amusement at the thought. Michael really couldn’t have chosen a better partner – in every meaning of the word.

“What we need is an in. Now, humans are usually more prone to trust someone when they feel beholden in any way. Which means that – if you agree – we’d ask you to bemoan anyone dying in the proximity of a Man of Letters, only that you would then proceed to save them from an arranged threat” he explains, gesturing between him and Roderick, “Telling him that you knew he was supposed to die, but couldn’t help yourselves. It should make them take a double take at least, and if we understand the organization correctly...”

“If they show us the smallest form of mercy, which letting us get away would be... they’d be seen as a liability” Silvery Lady finishes his sentence.

He nods.

“And you are counting on the Man of Letters we save to have a heart?”

“We are hoping there are some of them who do. And anyway, you’ll pretend to drive us off but we’ll be hiding nearby. With Beatrice. Nothing will happen to you” Michael promises, actually feeling rather confident that they can in fact protect them. If he’s learned anything from his months with Roderick, it’s that they can do anything they put their mind to.

“You are asking us to put our trust in humans.”

“You already trust us to take care of this. Is this so much different?” Crowley asks.

“It is. These are our lives we are talking about.”

“I won’t deny that.”

Grim Soul steps forward, looking earnest fro once. “You have my trust.” She turns to look at Silvery Lady. “I will help them, sister. We have been moaning and crying for so long – it’s time to do something else.”

Silvery Lady meets her eyes. A silent conversation passes between them. Finally she nods. “I suppose I can’t let you do this alone.” She smiles wryly. “But don’t expect me to make your jokes for you, since you’ve gone all sombre.”

Grim Soul laughs. “Don’t worry about that. It will be fun!”

That’s probably as much sincerity as they can expect from her.

Beatrice, realizing something is going on, starts barking and jumping up and down.

Who could have known hellhounds really are just overgrown puppies – albeit deadly ones if you’re not careful – as long as you treat them kindly?

“He doesn’t look like much, does he” Michael says sceptically, watching the young man in a suit question locals. “He hasn’t even realized we’re tailing him.

“I’d say that’s a good thing” Roderick answers, “But I will admit the Men of letters’ training doesn’t seem to amount to much.”

“Yeah, plus he’s a freaking kid. Who let him out of school to go hunting?”

“Most hunters start young” he reminds him.

“And how many live long enough to – well, get old?”

“We, for example.”

“Are you calling me old, Roderick?”

“I wouldn’t dare, Michael” he deadpans. Beatrice whines and he scratches her behind the ears. Thankfully she’s hiding under the table of the one coffee shop in the small town they’re staying in. It wasn’t difficult to find a case obvious enough to draw the Men of Letters in.

A werewolf, by the looks of it. At least all the devoured victims’ hearts are missing, and that’s usually all the proof they need.

“How much longer do you think until he comes to the inevitable conclusion?” Roderick mutters. “That’s slower than you in your densest moments –“

“Excuse me?”

“I gave you a massage that one time and you still didn’t catch on.”

“It happened, shouldn’t that be enough for you?” he asks, squeezing Roderick’s thigh.

“Could have been sooner” he mumbles, but there’s a half-smile upon his lips.

“Oh look” Michael announces, “He’s stalking off purposefully. I bet he’ll go out into the moors tonight.”

If they weren’t following a plan that consists of not harming the Man of Letters, the guy would be dead already. Seriously, how can he not hear them coming from a mile away?

Hell, he shrieks when they ambush him. Who thought the kid was ready?

Silvery Lady and Grim Soul show up soon enough, moaning appropriately, and drive them off.

“Do you think it did the trick?”

“I think he looked scared enough when Juliet started to growl that –“

“Beatrice” he says, “Wrong play.”

Roderick looks confused for a moment. “Yes. Of course. Beatrice.” He rubs his forehead.

“The spell?”

He shrugs. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

That is true, but he’s still growing tired of his own headaches, and especially of seeing Roderick in pain.

But wait.

He knows him well enough. There’s something else.

“Has this happened before – you calling things by other names?”

“Beatrice is not a thing” he says indignantly.

Michael sighs. “Roderick, please –“

“After you managed to wake me up, I started getting – I wouldn’t call them flashbacks; but now and then I experience a sense of... as if I know something but cannot put my finger on it. Calling Beatrice Juliet... Yes, it was another one of these. For the record, I wasn’t lying, I was only waiting to see if the effects of my little brush with oblivion would last. I would have told you eventually.”

He looks so sincere that Michael has no choice but to believe him. And he does trust him. With his life, on a daily basis.

He’s also giving him puppy dog eyes, and damn him if they aren’t effective. “Alright. Think you might get your memories back?”

“I have no idea. Since we haven’t found a single similar case, we’re flying blind.”

“I know” Michael sighs, “believe me, I know.”

He sits down and leans against a tree stump. “Any guess how long they’ll need?”

“None.” Roderick takes place next to him. He wraps an arm around him. “Not that you get cold.”

“No danger there” he replies lightly as he leans against him.

They wait.   

Chapter Text

“They’re coming“.

Roderick’s gently shaking his shoulder. Michael sits up and rubs his eyes. “Why did you let me doze off? There’s a werewolf around.”

“Please, with me and Beatrice here? Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

He shakes his head as they get up. “Still...”

“His name is Oskar Patch” Silvery Lady says without bothering to greet them, “And as you would say, he’s in way over his head.”

“He was shocked we weren’t blood-hungry monsters driven by instinct” Grim Soul chimes in, “As if we were responsible for the deaths we grieve! We’re just the harbingers of bad news, and they think we’re evil!”

Michael could point out that most people don’t enjoy getting bad news, but he doubts it would do any good.

“If they are all as indoctrinated as he is, you are in for some heavy work” Silvery Lady adds.

“But he let you go.”

“He did. I think he was too shocked to do much else.”

“One little seed of doubt” Roderick muses. “Worth much in this day and age. Humans attacked him, and monsters saved him – enough to upend any world view, don’t you think? We should stick around. He’ll come back tomorrow for answers – and then there’s the werewolf, of course.”

“Has to be a local. The killings are way too –“

“Sorry, but do you need us for this?” Grim Soul asks. “I can feel a death nearby. We have to mourn.”

“No, no, oif course, ladies, do what you must” Michael says while Roderick nods, “But remember, Oskar will most likely come looking for you tomorrow night.”

“We will be here” Silvery Lady declares portly and they depart.

“Oskar Patch... it’s a beginning.”

Roderick nods again.

“Alright, I know that look. You have an idea.”

He grins. “What gave it away?”

“Like I said, I know you. Now. What are you thinking?”

“I am thinking – mind it’s a bit devious – but my point is – yes we could work on convincing them one by one, and eventually we could take out the ones who don’t agree with us with the help of our friends – or...”

“Or?” he prompts him.

“We really only need one to trust us, you know. If we could get into the headquarters – cut the head off the snake –“

“That’s less fighting them and more... assassination” he answers, thinking it through. “But it would cause less bloodshed, if all goes to plan...”

“Are you saying you like my plan?”

“I am saying it’s not a bad one by any means.” Michael chuckles. “Yes, I like it. Not sure if Oskar’ll like it but – you know.”

“I will admit that we’d be using him, but some degree of manipulation was always going to be involved anyway” Roderick shrugs.

“You are ruthless, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“I am just working with what he have.”

Michael shakes his head.

“What did I ever get myself into?”

“I don’t remember you complaining at the time.”

He laughs and pulls him into a kiss; things are on the verge on becoming slightly less than  appropriate for a public setting when Beatrice barks. They look down at her. She’s panting in that way of hers when she picks up a trace.

“The werewolf?”

“It would seem so.”

They deal with it quickly and efficiently when it becomes clear the local librarian actually enjoys being a werewolf and gnawing on humans.

The next day, feeling reasonably sure that Oskar will wait until nightfall to look for banshees since the Men of Letters don’t seem to be that well-informed when it comes to certain things after all, they make a bit of a holiday of it. Sure, they can’t exactly parade around with Beatrice in the middle of the town, but she seems happy enough in their hotel room for the time being. Plus they should probably keep a low profile, since there is a small chance Oskar is trying to get over his shock from last night by living his best Scottish life for the day.

So crappy movies and room service it is.

Michael would be more than content with that, only that Roderick starts acting weird. He’s been a bit jumpy since they got up this morning, and he only gets more and more nervous as the day progresses.

No... nervous isn’t the right word.

Desperate fits the bill somewhat better. He keeps throwing Michael these glances, as if he’s trying to memorize his face, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

It’s only a matter of time, now.

They have been having mostly dreamless nights lately, for which Roderick was rather grateful; and now that he knows what it means to dream again, he feels even more so.

Grateful that at least he got as much time with Michael as he did.

Because this dream – no, it wasn’t a dream. Of that he is absolutely sure.

For the first time, he experienced a true memory of his, bits and pieces at least. When Michael saved his life, he must have fractured the spell – it seems to be slowly withdrawing from his mind.

All his suspicions have been confirmed.

He was far from a good person.

He’s not even entirely sure he was human before all of this.

What he remembers now in the light of day is precious little, but it’s enough to make an educated guess.

Even if everything seems disappointingly vague.

He and Michael – no, not Michael, he has another name here – are sitting in a car. It feels like the car is as familiar to him as the man.

They are looking for something or someone, he can’t say for sure.

Roderick – no, no, another name as well, but one that doesn’t sound quite right either, everything is rather confusing – needs Michael to accompany him, in order to –

In order to –

Sadly, there are only three details he can confidently say are true, and none of them good.

First, his desire for Michael to accompany him and find whoever they were searching for was entirely selfish. There was not a speck of altruism in him, and there was a hint of something else – something viciously furious that he couldn’t name.

Second of all – Michael hated him. Hates him. Would still hate him, if he could remember why.

His shoulders were tense in the dream; he barely looked at him and when he did, only reluctantly; and most of all, he almost seemed to lean away from Roderick whenever he could.

The thought doesn’t hurt very much. Yet. He expects it will when they have both regained their memories and Michael has turned away from him.

Because the third fact he can remember is that – even back then, when he was different (non-human, evil, angry – no, he doesn’t want to think about it) he was still drawn to his – whatever they were for one another. Enemies, most likely.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Michael finally asks. Roderick knew he would eventually.

Juliet jumps on the bed and whines, as always attuned to his moods. Wait, Juliet?

Yes, Juliet. There must be a reason he suddenly started calling her by that name. Maybe she knew him, and that’s why she searched for them.

A hellhound as a pet. Another reason to think he wasn’t exactly on the good side.

“Roderick?”

Michael’s hand on his thigh, warm and comforting. Michael’s eyes, worried and soothing, the expression on his face nothing like in the dream.

He intertwines their fingers and takes a deep breath.

“I think I’m starting to remember.”

Chapter Text

Some of those they meet are slightly wary of Roderick. Michael can’t really explain it – no, that’s a lie. Roderick can be pretty ruthless when it comes to it, and sometimes his ideas border on evil genius territory. And yet he’s a good guy deep down, he’s sure of it. He did agree to help the monsters out for no other reason than they could. And he’s a damn good hunter.

“No” he explains to George for the millionth time one night, “He didn’t mean to freak your fairy customers out yesterday.”

“He did, though.”

Here’s the thing about dragons: they’re fiercely loyal once they grow close to someone, but they can be freaking stubborn, too. “I know he did” Michael explains patiently, “But my point stands. He was a bit jumpy from the hunt, and he just happened to upset the saltshaker while he was eating his fish and chips.”

“It’s difficult imagining him being jumpy because of anything.”

“Yeah, well...” he trails off before taking a deep breath and confessing, “That basilisk almost got me. Roderick intervened just in time.”

“Oh.” George’s eyes widen before he gives him a mischievous grin. “I should have known. That explains everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he came close to losing you... Come on, it’s starting to get ridiculous. We have bets going, you know –“

“That will be two pints, please.” Under these circumstances, he’d rather keep a clean head.

George grins. “I see. Well, there’s always another night to win my bet.”

He takes their drinks and goes to search for Roderick, who is currently explaining to Auri that no, he was intending to send the fairies into a counting frenzy for hours, and that yes, he would apologize at the next given opportunity.

Michael catches his eyes and grins. “Making amends?”

“Just putting things right” he says lightly.

Auri shakes her head. “You are already two human hunters working with monsters; can’t you ever keep it simple?”

“Wouldn’t that be very boring?” Michael asks, sliding the beer over to Roderick.

“How would I know? Since you two have shown up, I have all but forgotten what being bored feels like... Father nags at me constantly that I shouldn’t let you out of my eyes in case something happens.”

“Anything specific, my dear?” Roderick drawls.

“No, that’s why I said something.”

He’s clearly just trying to rile her up, so Michael intervenes. “Now, now, we don’t want to –“

Auri shakes her head as she grumbles something to herself. Michael’s pretty sure it’s in Gaelic. “You two... always complimenting one another.”

“We do our best” Roderick says smoothly as Michael swallows.

In a way, she’s right.

He doubts he would have come so far without his partner.

His platonic partner, naturally.

There will never be anything more between them.

He should have known it would be something like this. After all, with him calling Beatrice Juliet as if it were normal, as if that were her actual name...

“And?” he asks gently.

That Roderick reacts is not a good sign. He normally doesn’t go for being treated with kid gloves – he prefers the cold, harsh truth.

“It’s... remember when we talked about it... before?”

Michael himself still finds it difficult to believe that Roderick is supposed to have been a bad guy. It doesn’t mean he didn’t do bad things – good God, all hunters have, that just comes with the territory – but he’s not one of those evil sons of bitches they certainly wrestled with on a regular basis. Michael trusted him from the first, and he’s pretty sure that’s not something that happens often.

“Of course.”

“I had a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

Roderick doesn’t answer at first. Eventually, he says, “You could call it one.”

“What about? And wait, you didn’t have an episode –“

“I think that’s because I already survived the worst case scenario. You brought me back. The spell has lost its power over me.”

“You think you’ll get your memories back?”

“It sure seems that way” he answers, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“That’s a good thing.”

“Not if –“ he breaks off and sighs. “Do you have to be so damn understanding?”

“Just trying to be supportive.”

“How am I supposed to get angry with you when you do that?”

“I don’t think you should”.

“Do you have to be the clear-headed one in this situation?”

“One of us should be. Apparently we have switched roles for once.”

Roderick rolls his eyes. “There is no need to employ self-deprecating humour to make me feel better.”

“Are you sure? Pretty certain I just saw a hint of a smile.”

“Damn you” he answers, the corners of his mouth indeed lifting.

“Better”§ Michael kisses him. “And now tell me what’s really bothering you.”

“You have to stop me in case you feel the effects of the spell.”

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

Michael sighs. He knows that Roderick will clamp up if he so much as shows a twinge of pain, but there’s nothing he can do about it, so he nods.

“Suppose that’s as good as it’s going to get. Fine... not going into specifics, for the very real dangers you must be aware of – That’s right, good girl.”

Beatrice just nudged Michael and whined, probably because he was busy frowning. “She’s always on your side.”

“She just knows who gets her the best treats. Anyway, I am starting to remember certain things and I am rather sure I wasn’t on the side of good. Don’t argue.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course you were. You always do.”

“Because –“

“I know how you think about it. But please, for once just let me elaborate on this.”

Michael decides he might as well hear him out, although he naturally won’t believe a single word about Roderick being evil. He’s been living with the man for over a year. He’s watched him save countless lives, get rid of hundreds of dangerous supernatural beings, and Roderick’s smart enough tp dp anything he wants. He didn’t ahve to choose this life with Michael, but he did.

 And yes, sometimes he can be a bastard if he wants to, but then who doesn’t have his bad days?”

He knows he should be grateful that he can finally say it out loud, and he would be if the thought of his partner thinking badly of him didn’t make his skin crawl.

But he’s never been one to shrink from painful tasks, at least as far as he can remember, and so he begins, “Every time I remember, I feel... different. There is a lot of rage, and anger, and pain.”

Michael reaches out to touch him again, but he shakes his head. “Not that sort of pain. More... the anguish of a damned soul crying out.”

Much as he wishes it weren’t true, this is exactly what it feels like. Someone who has been to Hell and back, quite literally, lashing out at everyone else because there is nothing left to do.

“I have also come to the conclusion that we... weren’t exactly friends.”

“We’re not exactly friends now” Michael answers, but Roderick knows he understands. He’s far from stupid.

“I don’t think you even liked me.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

“First of all, you only said I didn’t like you, which implies you liked me, indeed” he points out. Roderick doesn’t answer.

“And second of all... we have no idea at what point in our acquaintance that specific memory took place.”

“That may be true, but –“

“No buts. This could have been just shortly after we had met. And when we first woke up, I was a little wary of you, too. Don’t get me wrong, I thought you were hot” he grins in a way that never fails to make Roderick’s heart beat faster, as if he were an infatuated teenager, “But I still had my suspicions. And look at us now – we have been conspiring to bring down the Men of Letters for months, we are living our best domestic life and we’ve even adopted a puppy.”

“I dare say most people wouldn’t describe it that way.”

Michael shrugs. “She acts like one most of the time. Also – “the anguish of a damned soul crying out”? You’ve been spending too much time with Silvery Lady.”

“Considering you’re not even a little concerned, I’d say you’ve been talking too much to her sister” he counters, and yet he can’t help but feel a little comforted already.

Damn Michael and his boyish charms.

“And hey” he adds, “We can always cross that bridge when we come to it. And what we were – it doesn’t change what we are now.”

“Even if we find out –“

“Especially if we find out. Because that means you had all the makings of someone evil and you still stayed at my side to fight the good fight.”

“You’re just lucky you’re pretty” he grumbles, but without heat in it.

Michael grins.

Roderick draws him into a kiss. Maybe he’s right, and remembering won’t change who they are.

And if it does –

At least he’ll have had this.

Chapter Text

The council is intrigued. That much they know.

Unfortunately, they’re not given much more. Michael can’t blame them; after all, they were just living their lives and trying not to get slaughtered when two hunters crashed their party, and now they have to deal with them.

“Father told me the council members are... interested” Auri tells them when she comes to visit. “Oh dear, it’s almost homely here now!”

“Thank you” he says proudly. They have indeed been working on the place a little; as he firmly pointed out to Roderick when he tried to argue for style over comfort, they need a place to feel at home, and anyway, they can’t risk Beatrice ruining anything, can they. “But what was that about the council?”

“Oh, right.” Auri steps away from the couch she’s been admiring. Sometimes Michael forgets she’s still pretty young, living under her father’s thumb. She’s probably never picked out furniture for herself in her life. “The council wants to believe you, they’re  just not sure they can.”

“One would think the word of Aurelia would be enough” Roderick drawls from behind them. He’s much too good at creeping up on people, but Michael has never even flinched when he suddenly shows up. Maybe he enjoys his company a little too much.

A little too much for a hunting partner, at least.

“I’ve tried all I can, but don’t forget I am not a member of the council, and – well, to explain I trust you because I happen to do so is apparently not enough reason for others to follow my lead.”

“Guess we’ll have to convince them little by little.”

The next few months are a first example to Michael as to what Roderick is actually capable of. He sucks up to the annoying members of the council, talks sense with the intelligent ones, bends the truth when it suits him.

It shouldn’t be as fascinating to watch as it is, and Michael sometimes wonders what it says about him that he’s ready to help manipulate everyone they know.

Then again, it’s all for the greater good.

After their little talk, Michael hoped things would get better, and in a way, they do. Roderick throws himself into taking down the Men of Letters, carefully checking up on the progress Grim Soul and Silvery Lady make with Oskar, collecting data about the organization.

And nothing about that would in the least be surprising, if there wasn’t... a hint of desperation in his eyes, as if he’s trying to end this before... before...

Before what, that is the question. Michael thinks it still has to do with him regaining his memories, and he doesn’t know how to reassure him for the simple reason that he can’t. The fact that Roderick’s on his side is simply part of his very being, has been since he woke up; he can’t bring himself to doubt him for even a second, so he can’t see things from his perspective although he tries.

He gets that it’s frightening to think he was ever something other than human, and that’s what his dreams boil down to. Something dark and dangerous, something Michael worked with because he had no other choice. But even so – he’s human now.

Maybe it would be better if the spell never hit him like it had when he heard that name... that name of this one demon Michael doesn’t try to remember because he’d just end up knocked out again. If Roderick still had to suffer from the same repercussions he has to deal with, this wouldn’t be a problem at all, and he wouldn’t try to make sense of the glimpses he’s been afforded.

Michael can’t help it, but with everything that’s been going on, with the friends they have found, with what they’re trying to do, and perhaps most importantly, with their relationship growing steadier every day, he’s stopped caring very much about where they came from, originally. He wouldn’t mind finding out – as long as it’s not bad news – but that’s about it. If someone was looking for them, they would have found them by now.

If only he could convince Roderick of that.

Beatrice makes herself known and he goes to feed her. “There, girl. Now, where’s your other...”

“Yes, thank you, Grim Soul” Roderick says, appearing in the kitchen with a phone pressed to his ear. “Wonderful news.”

He hangs up and grimaces. Roderick grins. “Is she still enjoying their assignment?”

“A little too much.”

“Hey, enthusiasm. Not a bad thing.”

Roderick nods, but there are still shadows behind his eyes, and Michael doesn’t know how to make them disappear.

He’s back at the bunker. He’s made his decision once and for all, and the boys should be glad to have another ally against –

He takes one look at him and launches at him across the table, the blade that could kill him in his hand.

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but the thought that he could kill him, crush him like a fly and not even feel regret about it hurts far more than the punch.

He sits up, gasping. Beatrice whines, and he scratches her behind the ears so she won’t wake up Michael.

Michael, his partner-in-crime, his friend, his lover. Michael, the man he just watched jump at him, ready to destroy him.

And this was not an early memory. He knows it like he knows that he used to be something else, something different.

How he knows that Michael won’t want him anymore when they remember.

And he never even told him he...

Beatrice whines again, undoubtedly unsettled by his dark mood, and Roderick quickly gets up.

A walk will do them both good.

He makes sure Michael’s tucked in properly, resists the urge to run his fingers through his hair, and leaves.

Beatrice doesn’t run around happily as she usually would; instead she stays close. If he could see her, she’d probably look as dejected as he feels.

“Shouldn’t humans be asleep at this time of night?”

He turns to find Mel, looking as unearthly as ever. There’s the knowledge behind her eyes he’s trying to flee from.

He greets her in the traditional way; she nods.

“Humans may sleep at night... but then I’m not human, am I” he says bitterly, more convinced than ever that she’s always known at least part of the truth.

“You are human now.”

“And what I did God knows how long before that doesn’t matter?”

“It only matters if you allow it to.”

“What would you know about that? Nothing matters to you” he answers lightly, realizing it was the wrong thing to say when the nights grows colder than it already is and Juliet begins to growl.

“Oh, do stop your dog from doing something stupid, Roderick. You know I can easily take her, and it won’t be a pretty sight, as you lot would say”.

“Down girl” he says. She immediately huddles close to his side.

“You are wrong to say I don’t care” she hisses, taking a step closer. He forces himself to remain where he stands. “Do you really think that seeing old traditions, old ways being swept under the rug only for humans who kill everything they think is too different from them doesn’t affect me? Do you really think I don’t hear the empty seas cry out for the spirits who used to protect them? Do you really think me so indifferent?”

“I didn’t say you were –“

“Because this, this every moment, is the only proof I need of how human you are. You only ee your own problems. Selfish, the whole lot of you.”

“Michael isn’t selfish” he argues, “Rather the opposite.”

To his surprise, she smiles. “That’s true. But then Michael has always been special, hasn’t he? Even in the – before times.”

“You know. You know what I was. What he was. What we were to each other.”

“And if I did? What difference does it make?”

“What difference – I am not trying to anger you, Mel” he tries the diplomatic approach. “But you feel – you don’t feel as we humans do.”

“So you decide to see yourself as completely human when it suits you?”

He ignores her taunt. “What I am trying to say is – of course it matters where we come from, to us at least.”

“And where do you come from?”

Before he can answer, Mel continues, “Because this is what you should be considering. You come from over a year of getting monsters of all sorts to trust you – building up a network – hunting and helping the helpless – and forming a loving relationship –“

“Never said anything about that” he mumbles.

Mel shakes her head. “You really are human. But if I were you, I’d agree with Michael – there is something about you waking up without your memories, and choosing the right path.”

“Mel –“

“There is a storm coming, Roderick. You will have to decide who you want to be.”

With these words she melts away into the night.

Chapter Text

Whether or not there is indeed a storm coming – and knowing Mel, Roderick believes there is – they still have work to do.

And seeing as he might not wish to finish it once his memories come back, they have to hurry, he decides as he slowly walks back home, Beatrice a comforting presence at his side.

He is careful not to wake Michael as he slips back into bed, but he should have known better. He’s awake in an instant.

Definitely a hunter in his former life as well.

“Roderick? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I went for a walk.”

“What did Mel say?”

Naturally he knows he spoke to the wraith. Roderick wonders if he’ll ever be able to keep secrets from him. “She said... something’s coming:”

“Something?”

“She used the word storm, but you know Mel.”

“Could be anything.”

He nods. “I also got the distinct impression she knows more than she’s let on:”

“You only just now thought of that? Should I be worried?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

A short silence follows. Then, Michael says, “Another point for you being on the side of good, then.”

“What do you mean?=”

“Mel’s more than okay with you being here, and you wouldn’t call her evil, would you?”

Roderick shakes his head. “No. But I wouldn’t call her good, either. She’s a nature spirit. They’re neutral by default.”

Michael snorts. “Right. Because Mel is so very neutral.”

“I meant it –“

“I know what you meant.” Michael moves closer to him. “But that doesn’t change anything about the fact that it’s the middle of the night and I need my beauty sleep.”

Roderick could point out that he thoroughly disagrees – he’s never seen anyone who needs less beauty sleep than the man he’s lucky enough to call his lover – but instead allows him to drift off again after a wink and a kiss from Michael.

He watches him sleep and tries not to think of the dream he had, the one where Michael’s eyes burned with anger and betrayal and he was holding a knife at his throat, ready to draw blood.

Eventually, he does manage to fall asleep; he wakes the next morning to an empty bed, small wonder since it’s almost lunch time.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep –“ he starts saying as he walks into the kitchen, only to trail off as he sees their visitors.

Grim Soul grins. “So this is how you look all sleepy and adorable!”

He could swear Michael’s blushing.-

“Boxer shirts hardly seem appropriate for welcoming visitors” Silvery Lady informs him, but she’s fighting off a smile. They might get her to laugh yet.

“I’ll just get dressed” he announces and leaves.

“Don’t exert yourself on my account, my dear” Michael calls after him and he smiles as Beatrice barks, clearly hungry.

No matter how it ends, these moments will always have been worth everything.

Kansas

“What do you mean, it’s impossible?”

“I mean it’s impossible” Jody explains patiently. “The Men of letters have files on almost every American hunter, as we have learned, and they are bound to keep an eye on their borders, especially after what happened when they tried to set foot into the United States.”

“I agree” Cas says calmly – as always, Sam thinks grimly – “We need to be careful.”

“But Dean –“

“Wouldn’t like you to just storm into danger because you are worried” Jody say evenly and Sam forces himself to calm down. “We don’t even know if he’s there” she continues.

Technically, he knows she’s right. But ever since Rowena brought up the possibility that his brother might be in Scotland, he has been convinced that he is, for no other reason than he can feel it in his bones.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, looking around the war room. HE hasn’t seen her in a few hours. There was a time when Rowena running around the bunker would have been cause for concern; if Dean were here, he’d probably hold a lecture on the subject, but then again, eh does have a soft spot for the witch as he did for her son.

“She’s resting” Jody informs him, “She’s been working a lot these past few weeks.”

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes. As is they haven’t.

“Don’t give me that look. She hasn’t had it easy. She’s grieving, and rather more than she thought she would, if I am right.”

Crowley and Rowena. Sam never understood what their relationship was like. Most of the time they wanted to kill one another – Crowley was even surprised that he wasn’t the one to kill her, he remembers suddenly – and yet she’s mourning him as if they were close when he was alive.

Maybe they were. Maybe just working together now and then means being close for witches and demons. Sam can’t tell anymore.

He’s tired, and he misses his brother.

“Sam” Jody says, her eyes softening, “We will get into the UK; and we will look for Dean. We just need a better plan than try and rush in and duck when the Men of Letters arrive.”

“And we cannot forget this is Dean we are talking about” Cas argues. “No matter in what condition he is in, he will be fighting for his life.”

That much, at least, is true.

And yet – why hasn’t he returned to them, yet? It has been over a year. They have tried everything they can think of, but...

Sometimes, Sam wonders if the lack of his brother in his life is slowly driving him insane.

Again nothing. She has tried every spell in the book – and some that aren’t in there because she kept them to herself – but there is no sign of her son.

Or of his body.

She still can’t believe that Fergus would do something like that, kill himself to save the Winchesters. She knows he had a soft spot for them, of course; and especially when it came to Dean, he never could deny the older hunter anything...

Once she finds him, she will make him tell everything. She will demand an explanation.

And most of all she will make sure they find Fergus, what’s left of him anyway.

And once she has that...

There is an old spell she has never tried, but carefully kept.

The spell of restoration. If she only finds the smallest trace of her son, she can turn him back into the demon they all knew so well.

Granted, it would probably make him a more powerful than ever, but...

On the other hand, things have been rather boring ever since he disappeared.

Chapter Text

During the next few weeks, Roderick works relentlessly with Grim Soul and Silvery Lady, and between the four of them – not that he knows Roderick and Michael are involved – they soon have Oskar thoroughly confused.

Michael would like to think they’re making progress, but he’s too worried to properly enjoy it because he realizes what Roderick’s doing.

 This desperate urgency he detests so much again, because it suggests his lover doesn’t think he’ll stick around once he regains his memory. In fact, some days he thinks Roderick acts like someone who has been giving the death penalty and knows no one’s coming to save him.

Only there he is wrong. Because no matter how strange or bad or insane he turns out to be, Michael’s going to get him and drag him right back to their lovely home on the not-so-abandoned island anymore if he does anything stupid.

“Michael? Is everything alright? You have both been tense lately.”

“You’re one to talk” he tells Auri.

“That’s not fair. I was tense yesterday because Father had announced he would visit.”

He even took the time to drop by Michael’s and Roderick’s again, threatening them (their word, not his) to better look after his daughter who suddenly decided to move out into the great big dangerous world of Hirta. They took it as a compliment. “You said he liked your place.”

“I said he didn’t criticize it. There’s a difference.”

Much as Michael respects Ailbeart, he doesn’t think much of him as a parent. He’s a bit too much the drill sergeant, having taught his daughter that their family has a responsibility to keep the other monsters save due to tradition, and too little a father who actually wants her to be happy. Michael doesn’t doubt that he loves her, and that he is very proud of her, but he doesn’t show it all too often. “I’m sure he liked it.”

She looks at him and slumps down on one of their kitchen chairs. “Roderick’s right about you. Here I am, trying to be upset, and you – do you have to be so pleasant?”

“I’m not that pleasant. That reminds me, we have a few body parts in the cellar, if you’re interested.”

The three weir sisters they helped out a while back showed up out of the blue a few weeks ago upon having decided that their home could do with a few more improvements.

So they have a cellar now, and enough food to feed a very disturbing army of creatures. Michael decided not to ask where they got the body parts from. He and Roderick agree they wouldn’t be so crazy to go kill humans for that, and that’s quite enough for them.

“You’re trying to mother me” she grumbles.

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are. You know, for y cool crazy uncle –“

“Wait, since when are we the cool crazy uncles of a bunch of monsters?”

When she just looks at him he adds, “Don’t answer that.”

Auri’s in a strange mood today, part exhilarated because she’s made her first big step into independence, part scared because of that very fact, and part worried because of what Michael and Roderick are planning.

At least with the last bit, he can empathize.

Beatrice runs into the kitchen; if he could see her, he’s pretty sure her tail would be wagging.

“There you are” Auri says, scratching her under her chin, he presumes.

“What does she look like, anyway?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“You might have a point there.”

“I’m still rather fascinated by her choosing you two as her keepers.”

“She just showed up. Don’t ask us, the spell –“

She shakes her head. “That’s another thing I don’t get. You humans – you are so – adaptable.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I couldn’t imagine waking up without my memories but still doing everything I can to get rid of the Men of Letters.”

“What can I say? Guess we’re special.”

“You’d have to be. Last time I met Silvery Lady, she almost smiled at me. I have never been more shocked in my life.”

And this woman eats body parts on a regular basis.

“Yeah, well –“

Before he can answer properly, the door flies open and Grim Soul arrives, bouncing with energy. “Hello Michael – Auri”.

“Hey there. You got any news?”

“Oh yes. Silvery Lady is busy alerting the council.”

They gave Michael’s and Roderick’s plan their blessing but insisted on being informed of what was going on regularly. They took it as what it was – a demand for a proof of trust – and agreed.

“What is it?”

“You won’t believe it” she huffs, “But Oskar – bless his soul, he’s really harmless, not cut out of this life at all, I mean I try to be positive, but he can’t even shoot a gun properly because he is worried of hurting someone, and –“

“Grim Soul” Michael interrupts her lightly, “Sorry, but could you –“

“Of course, I’m just excited! They’re using that poor boy!”

For a moment he’s rather confused, since if anyone is using Oskar, it’s most decidedly Roderick and Michael themselves, like some evil puppet masters from the shadows.

“What do you –“

“Silvery Lady knew what was up immediately, of course. My sister’s always been clever. The point is – Oskar thinks he actually got through to them! He’s going to introduce us to his supervisors!”

“Oh God” he breathes, because this can only mean one thing. They’re going to slaughter Oskar and the monsters he’s befriended in one even strike and call it an example. Either that or they have their own plan going on, which will not succeed, of course. “Alright. Where’s –“

Roderick, who always seems to find the most dramatic moment to enter a room, comes in from his walk. “What is it?” he asks immediately upon seeing their expressions.

Michael takes a deep breath. “Alright, here’s the thing. We need a few memory spells, and we need them soon.”

Chapter Text

“Really? He actually went to his supervisors and tried to convince them not all monsters are evil?“ Roderick shakes his head. “I knew he was young, I didn’t think he was that green.”

“Yeah, well... That’s what you get when you don’t educate people properly before sending them out into teh world to fight evil” Michael answers. “Can you imagine –“

“Never. Anyone I would take under my wing would be certain of –“

“Are you too trying to figure this out or deciding to open a day school for hunters?” Auri interrupts them.

“We will have to find something to do in our old age” Michael points out. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Roderick’s confused glance before his partner looks away.

Damn right. Let him be confused. He’s not going to let his man get away because he’s angsting around about his past. That’s all behind them, no matter what he remembers.

Michael himself hasn’t tried to recall anything in months. It’s not worth the headache, he’s rather sure if someone would have come looking for him it should already have happened, and he’s happy with the life they’ve built, hellhound jumping about and everything.

He doesn’t need to know where he came from to be satisfied with where he is now. He’s kicking ass and taking names, he has a good man at his side, a lot of friends, even if they are somewhat monstrous, and a pet who can devour anything that dare act against them; what else does he need?

“I agree; a memory-altering spell is probably the way to go. And if we could influence dear Oskar a little bit so he won’t run to his supervisors again –“

“Don’t you think what you’re planning is a little ironic, considering?” Auri asks.

“Michael and Roderick are trying their best to control the situation” Silvery Lady declares. She’s actually smiling but in that unsettling manner usually reserved for people who are close to meeting their maker. “I for one think they have been handling everything admirably.”

An actual compliment. That either means she’s ready to admit she likes them, or there will be blood at the end of the day.

The banshee sisters share a look. Michael turns to Auri and raises an eyebrow, but she just shrugs. She explained to them soon after they’d met that actually all monsters are pretty different, and that most of them know precious little of the habits of others.

“I think” Silvery Lady finally announces, “You’ve earned our trust.”

“Wait, just now?” Michael asks, while Roderick simply nods.

“Have you ever wondered” Silvery Lady continues as if he didn’t say a word, “Why the humans believe that –“

“Silvery Lady” Auri interrupts her, “those are humans you are talking to.”

“Quite right. Did you ever wonder why other humans don’t believe in banshees even though we show up regularly to bemoan their deaths?”

The penny drops. “You have mind control powers.”

Silvery Lady actually snorts. “That’s one way of putting it, but... yes.”

Chapter Text

“You could have told us that before, you know“ Michael tries once more, but Grim Soul only shakes her head.

“Oh no. You know how my sister is – she’d have berated me forever if I had told you! Not that I ever doubted you –“

And this, Michael thinks, is just another thing monsters don’t get. Of course he was briefly worried when he heard; did they influence them, when they first met? Is that why they have grown so close? Or why they decided to help the united good monsters of Britain?

He and Roderick talked about it however, and since they remember exactly the same conversations – which could hardly be the case if they were influenced in some way, since they are two different people with different expectations when it comes to being persuaded – they figured their friends were honest, even back then.

“Plus, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Oskar. I’m very find of him, you know.”

That would be reassuring if Grim Soul weren’t fond of everyone she’s ever met, except the guys planning a monster genocide, but Michael doesn’t voice that thought.

“So do you have any idea how many of them will show up?”

He and Roderick decided to question Grim Soul and Silvery Lady separately; not because they don’t trust them, but because the former is prone to exaggerations when she’s excited (so more or less all the time) and the later is so pessimistic she might as well declare their inevitable doom whenever she just feels rain approaching.

It was pretty clear from the get go who’d talk to whom. Roderick is a good guy, but Grim Soul can get on his nerves rather quickly.

“Three, Oskar said.”

So at least five, if they’re clever. Then again, a whole monster subculture has managed to hide from them, and they got thoroughly beaten back when they tried to set foot into America, so who knows.

Best plan for ten of them. If so, they can deal; if not, they’ll have it easier.

“Alright, then. Good. And you can change their memories?”

“They won’t even know remember Oskar told them.”

“What about records?”

“Oh, they don’t log anything like that. Oskar says they’re all rather scared of their leader, especially since Doctor Hess got killed in America.”

At the name Doctor Hess, a half-forgotten throbbing in his head reminds him that he’s still under a spell. He must have encountered the woman before, he knows that. Maybe when he was still living in America – his accent when he woke up points to him at least having spent a couple of years there, although Roderick keeps teasing him that he’s “going local” more and more.

Not that it matters. He likes it on Hirta, bad weather and all. At least Beatrice can run around without attracting attention.

“She seems to have been quite a nasty lady, much as it pains me to say so, you know I don’t like to speak ill of anybody – and even she was afraid of him!”

“I see” he says carefully, ignoring every impulse he has to dive deeper into the topic of Doctor Hess and her death back in the colonies (wait, colonies? Roderick is right, this is going a bit far). “So he’s a pretty bad customer.”

“According to Oskar, that’s an understatement.”

Not for the first time, Michael finds himself wondering how their meetings work, and why they haven’t mind-whammied him until now; the next moment, he could slap himself for the thought. Banshees firmly believe in the integrity of everyone’s individual life and death. That’s why they never even tried with them, despite Michael and Roderick being hunters who spoiled their fun (or, if you ask Grim Soul, adding to it) one night.

“I swear to God, the woman missed her calling. Instead of being born a banshee, she should have come into this world as a Greek choir, preaching to everyone from the sidelines.”

Michael takes a hold of his partner’s hips to draw him into an embrace. “It can’t have been that bad.”

“Please. She told me we were going to our certain death at least seven times.”

“Seven? That’s good. It’s a lucky number for banshees, you know.”

“Who told you that?”

“Grim Soul. If you’re willing to listen...”

Roderick cups his face with his right hand. “I am sure she is a true spring of fascinating information...”

He hums, leaning into his touch.

Roderick smirks. “Not even worth a proper reply? You’re lucky you’re rather dashing.”

“You’re not so bad either.”

He drags him into a kiss. They don’t talk for a while after that.

By the time they get to feed Beatrice, their dog is clearly fretting.

“She alright? Seems worried” Michael remarks.

Roderick shoots him a somewhat guilty look. “I fear that’s me.”

“She’s not afraid of you –“

“Not of me, no.”

And Michael understands. “Because we’re going to meet the Men of Letters properly at last? What do you expect? A file labelled “Big Bad” with your face on it?”

Roderick doesn’t answer.

He sighs. “How often do I –“

“It’s not about you having faith in me. It’s about me not having any in myself.”

“Why?”

His question clearly takes Roderick aback. “What do you mean, why? Let’s start at the beginning. I woke up next to a hunter in Scotland, with no idea how or why, I was under a spell, I –“

“Then proceeded to become a hunter, disregarding whatever you might have happened to be before, saved countless of lives...”

“I hate it when you’re the logical one for a change.”

“Now what does that mean?” he demands, but without heat. He’s well aware that Roderick needs a distraction above anything else right now; Beatrice’s already relaxing, although that may have to do with all the raw meat she’s devouring.

“Sorry, darling. You are very logical, which is why you decided to stick with me was your best course of action.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

He grins at him until Roderick’s lips quirk upwards.

“So” Silvery Lady hisses, “You promise once again to stand back? If you come within range of our powers...”

“We will be careful –“

“God knows what it could do to you, considering the spell you are still under –“

They don’t mention the spell often; most of the time, Michael would be ready to bet that they’ve forgotten all about it.

There’s something touching about Silvery Lady remembering, however, and about her insistence that they stay well away from them while they take care of everything.

Luckily (and not in the least surprising) Roderick has an answer.

Silvery Lady studies the ear pieces with the disgust she usually reserves for sunny days and the laughter of children, but Grim Soul is delighted with them. “it’s as if we’re in a James Bond movie!”

“God knows why I ever allowed her to watch them with you” Silvery Lady mutters.

“Because she’s a grown woman and you don’t have the right to make that decision for her?” Michael supplies innocently.

“My point is” Roderick announces, “We’ll be able to hear everything that’s going on, and interfere, just in case...”

“You might come to late” Silvery Lady replies.

“Not if we let Beatrice loose.”

She nods at that.

“Ready?” Michael asks.

“Yes!” Grim Soul exclaims enthusiastically. Her sister only nods again.

In the end, it’s almost disgustingly easy.

There are five of them, as they expected – five if you count Oskar, that is; and he’s actually trying to convince his immediate superiors that they’re wrong in saying all monsters need to be wiped out, bless his heart.

“Look at them. They’re not human, but they’re not demons either...”

“You are right” a woman interrupts him sharply. “Them being demons might have made things easier once, although not so much these days, not since...”

Roderick makes a strangled noise; when Michael turns to look at him, he shakes his head, but his face is pale. He takes his hand and squeezes it.

Everything happens so fast.

The Men of Letters just... attack. And they clearly don’t know anything about banshees, because they try to turn on them only for them to release their powers in seconds.

“Wow” Michael breathes as he sees them all drop, “Really glad they didn’t try that on us.”

Roderick nods. “Is it safe?” he asks into the microphone he’s carrying.

“Perfectly” Silvery Lady assures him. “Now we have to target them individually.”

Half an hour later, the other four have forgotten everything that happened, and Oskar is convinced he should tell no one but the big boss himself.

Their way in.

As Roderick told him, it’s time to cut the head off the snake.

His partner gets lost in his thoughts as they follow Mel back home. “What is it?” Michael asks as soon as they’re back in their cottage.

“I think we should move fast” Roderick answers simply. “I am reasonably sure that I don’t ahve much time left as this version of me.”

Chapter Text

Eventually, they are allowed to sit in on some sessions of the council, although, to Michael’s consternation, Auri isn’t. She’s not old enough to become a member, and even if she were, as Ailbeart explained one day, it’s not guaranteed she could join, because one has to prove oneself “worthy.”

Michael can’t help but resent him for it. Auri has already proven herself over and over again; hell, she told him once that she’s been going on solo hunts since she was sixteen, and brought up for it or not, that’s very young to go at it alone.

“As for the distribution of animal hearts between the werewolves...” Ailbeart prattles on. He wishes he could roll his eyes. Why does there have to be this administrative circus? Just give them the stuff the need.

Roderick nudges him gently. Michael looks down at his hand and decidedly doesn’t wish he could take it.

Thoughts like this have been more and more frequent, as of late, and he cannot allow that. There are boundaries he can’t cross.

He clears his throat to distract himself and says, “I think there might be an easier way to get enough hearts. There are so many lonesome place in Scotland – there are so many lonesome place all over the world – surely you could recruit some monster farmers? I imagine pig and lamb hearts would be quite enough for them, don’t you think?”

“And don’t you think” Ailbeart asks stiffly, “That we’ve thought of this before? Only there are certain risks involved; we have been hiding for centuries now, and interactions with humans –“

“You’ve got us now. Use us.”

“Not exactly the way I would have out it” Roderick adds smoothly, “But I agree. We can easily arrange to buy a few farms. And really – if they’re remote enough, why should anyone suspect they were run by someone not-human?”

A few weeks later, they’ve extended their business into real estate. It’s how they become known to almost every monster in Scotland.

What do you mean by that? Do you remember?”

“Not quite. Not yet. But soon...”

Michael sighs. “You’re a drama queen, has anyone ever told you that?”

Roderick glares at him.

“You are!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, if my memories return and they prove to be as bad as I think they will, our whole plan is in danger.”

“It’s not” he says simply.

Roderick starts pacing up and down, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he does so. “While we were waiting, and even more as I heard the Men of Letters talk about Hell, I felt quite strongly that I know them – knew them, once, at least. And I am sure we both agree that they are, and have always been, rather bad news, so –“

Beatrice beats a hasty retreat to the kitchen – like Michael, she knows his mood swings a little too well at this point – but Michael’s not going to allow him to talk himself into a frenzy about this. It’s rather strange, really; most of the time Roderick possesses admirable self-restraint; but now and then, his emotions just go all over the place, almost as if he still isn’t quite used to them (Michael always dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes).

“Hey” he says, reaching out and grabbing his lover’s left hand, forcing him to stand still. “This isn’t helping.”

“I am trying to explain –“

“I’m sure it was fascinating; sorry I didn’t listen.”

Roderick wrenches his hand out of his grasp. “This isn’t even about – it’s about our plan. It’s more than probable that I pose a huge risk, and –“

“You don’t.”

“How can you be so – where does all this bloody faith in me come from?”

“The whole of last year” he replies. Roderick stares at him.

“And that’s enough for you to go on.”

“For the millionth time, yes! Before you collapsed –“

“You collapsed too –“

“Before you collapsed, we didn’t know the spell could be lifted, and we still lived our lives. And look what we have already achieved. If we wanted to completely take over the Men of Letters instead of destroying, we probably could do that, too! We’re good together.”

Roderick deflates. “We are” he admits.

“So I don’t care what you’re going to remember.” Michael takes  a deep breath. “Alright, that’s a lie. I will care, but not enough that I’d throw you out or never want to see you again.”

“You can’t know that for sure.”

2No, I can’t know that for sure. But at the same time, we can’t be sure that our plan will work, or that one day a monster won’t devour us despite putting up our best fight, or that I’ll kick you out because you let the dog into our bed again.”

“She was cold.”

He rolls his eyes. “My point exactly.”

“I am trying to be logical here” Roderick argues but Michael can see he’s won. He smiles.

“And how is that working for you?”

“Why do you have to be so damn persuasive, you denim-clad nightmare.”

He laughs. “Thought you liked me in jeans.”

“I said I liked certain parts –“

Michael shuts him up by kissing him. They don’t speak much for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Roderick is back to his usual, confident self, and Michael breathes a sigh of relief.

“You do of course understand that we are planning a murder? That’s rather extreme, even for us.”

He shrugs. “Yes, but the guy’s pretty much... well, he leads a genocide movement. I don’t see many people pitying him.”

Roderick grins. “I agree.”

With that, they consider all necessary ethical discussion at an end.

Silvery Lady and Grim Soul come to them with new information every day. Apparently the Big Boss is called Talbot (a name that for some reason causes Michael to experience another headache when he thinks too much about it, but he has long developed the habit of changing his train of thought quickly when that happens).

“They don’t openly talk about it – they’re not allowed to – but Oskar believes he lost a good part of his family to supernatural creatures, and that’s why he hates us so much.”

Roderick raises an eyebrow. “I myself have lost quite a bit due to supernatural influences at least, but I do not aim for the destruction of everything slightly magical under the sun.”

“Hey” Michael complains. “Last time I checked, we got together since you were attacked. Is that nothing?”

“You can get rather grumpy in the morning...”

“You are one to talk!”

Grim Soul loves and makes a remark to her sister in Gaelic, sadly too fast for Michael, but he does understand the word leabaidh-phòsta and blushes.

It’s ridiculous, of course. He hunts monsters and plans murders with the guy, but one mention of a marriage bed and his face turns red?

He looks at Roderick, expecting to be made fun of, but he’s studying him with an expression he’s never seen on his face before. Calculating and... hopeful? He quickly turns away.

Silvery Lady shakes her head at them. “Really, we do have other problems.”

“You agreed to help us” he reminds her. And to think that when they first met, Silvery Lady had such a strict non-interference policy she and Grim Soul hadn’t talked to a human in years.

“I know, and for that I have to listen to you two bantering” she replies pointedly.

Michael just smiles at her.

The day dawns. Oskar has been mind-whammied into asking Mr. Talbot (one sudden, painful surge, then Michael shoves the thought away) for a meeting of the Old Men, as they call their leaders. They are especially coming up from London; apparently one of their own thinking enough for himself (as far as they know) to contact them personally is considered a severe crisis that needs to be deal with quickly. They have also agreed to allow him to bring exactly two monsters with him – probably because they suspect there is some mind-influencing going on.  

All in all, everyone will be on the look-out for more banshees to come; meaning that two humans should slip through the cracks easily enough.

Especially if they dress the part.

Michael has already changed into his suit and is waiting for Roderick who, if he can afford it, always spends quite a bit of time on his appearance because “perfection takes time.”

Still, Michael was not prepared for seeing him in an Armani suit of all things. He looks good enough when they’re playing MI6 agents, but he’s never donned something quite as expensive before. “Really?”

“We have to sell our performance, don’t we” Roderick drawls in a tone of voice that on the one hand, makes Michael regret that they don’t have more time but on the other makes him realize that he really has to insist on regular suit days from now.

“Alright then” he answers stepping up to his love and giving him a quick kiss, “Let’s go and assassinate some British pricks.”

Chapter Text

They leave Beatrice with Auri. They can’t risk her attacking anyone at an importune moment, and a hellhound would be a dead giveaway that something’s wrong.

The ghoul is far from pleased. “I could help.”

“Yes you could” Michael answers honestly, “But we’d rather you don’t. It probably doesn’t feel that way for you, but you’re very young.”

“You aren’t old yet!”

“As wonderful as it is to hear that from someone your age” Roderick drawls, “We want you to stand back and watch things from afar.”

She huffs. “Fine. But if I think something’s the matter, we’re going in.”

“We?” Michael asks.

Auri gives them a cheeky grin. “You didn’t really think we’d just let you do your thing all alone, did you?”

When they step out of their cottage, they meet more creatures than they’ve ever seen in one place before. Michael’s ready to bet so many living beings haven’t graced Hirta’s shores in centuries.

Grim Soul waves a hand in the air. “Michael! Roderick! Look who’s come to see you off.”

“And a bit more than that” Ailbeart declares, strolling forward. As always, the others let him talk for them as well. “Michael, Roderick, we know that you have decided to sneak into the headquarters of the Men of Letters by yourself once Silvery Lady and Grim Soul have entered, and we commend your bravery. However, a number of us has agreed to wait outside and interfere in case anything goes wrong. The three weird sisters have agreed to shield us from any detection spells.”

Michael swallows to get rid of the lump in his throat. Some of those surrounding them he’s known for over a year, some only for a few weeks, and a few he’s never seen before.

Roderick takes his hand. “We’re honoured, flath” he replies for both of them.

Michael shoots him a grateful glance.

Mel steps up to them, the other monsters giving her a wide berth. “Hello, friends. Here is how we can get in –“

Half an hour later – most of the monsters have given them their blessing, or their equivalent to it, at any rate – they’re standing just around the corner, watching the unassuming building in London. It strikes Michael that it must be quite some time since he set foot into a big city, but he’s not worried. It’s so easy to blend people.

Especially if one’s partner happens to wear an Armani suit and stroll into the place as if he belonged.

They make it almost to the reception until someone calls out from behind them, “Excuse me, who are you?”

Roderick turns around. “Robert Burns.”

They are definitely going to have a talk about appropriate under cover names when they’ve dealt with this.

“And my associate, Bill Irving. Scottish division.”

By now, he can fake a Scottish accent well enough, and of course Roderick must have been born there, so it’s the easiest explanation.

The man frowns, studying them. “Where’s your –“

“Look” Michael interrupts him, “We don’t have time for this. You are aware of what’s happening, right? At least you know something big’s taking place.”

The guy looks around as if he wants to make sure no one’s listening, then nods.

“In that case, you must be able to put two and two together. Why would suddenly two members you’ve never heard of pop up?”

His eyes widen.

“Top secret, you understand” Roderick chimes in, smiling benignly.

He nods and scurries off.

“Let’s hope it’s always that easy” he mutters.

“We’ll have to wait and see, darling” Roderick mumbles back before walking towards the reception, a brilliant smile on his desk. “Good morning.”

Roderick doesn’t so much manipulate the receptionist into giving them access to the upper floors, but downright seduce her and Michael pushes down an unwarranted surge of jealousy. Just like for him, there’s only one guy out there for Roderick, and they share a bed every night.

“These people have no idea how to run a business” Roderick complains as they are walking up the stairs to prevent curious looks in the elevator.

“Good news for us.”

“I know, it’s the principle of the matter. If you’re talking genocide, you should be organized perfectly –“

“That’s the top floor” Michael whispers, shutting him up.

As expected, it’s empty. The Old Men don’t want anyone to accidentally discover that monsters are, in fact, people.

They quietly walk along the corridor, up to the big door that can only mean one thing.

How utterly pretentious. Michael finds himself agreeing with Roderick; this is no way to run a business.

They talked about how to enter for hours, but finally decided to simply open the door and go in. Silvery Lady and Grim Soul are there, after all, and considering everything they’ve done for them, the least they can do is stun everyone so, should things go array immediately, they can escape.

“Good afternoon” Roderick greets everyone loudly. “Just in case you’re wondering, we’re hunters, and this little plan to rule the world ends now.”

One of the Old Men jumps up immediately – if they were right about who was the leader of the organization, it must be Talbot – and glares at them. “I should have known. A set-up.”

He turns to Oskar. “Punishment will be –“

“Hey, leave the kid alone” Michael interrupts him. “He didn’t know.”

“That’s true” Grim Soul supplies cheerfully, “We made him take us here!”

Talbot turns back around to glare at them some more when suddenly, he takes a few steps back, so that his chair falls down on the floor. The others, who are only now starting to react (dear God, they apparently really only make sure the ones below them are trained and let them do all the dirty work) seem equally confused.

“According to our information, you should be dead.” He’s glaring at Roderick, and Michael makes a mental note to tell him later that anyone the Men of Letters hold in such contempt could hardly have been a bad guy.

“It seems these reports were greatly exaggerated” he says simply.

Then he turns to Michael. “And you – how dare you show your face here, of all places? You left my niece to die –“

Pain makes him double over as the picture of a face appears in his mind; beautiful, passionate and clever.

“Michael? Michael!”

“Oh, so he calls himself Michael, these days? Small wonder, from what I’ve heard. Look at you, colluding with monsters, with demons, exactly the kind who ruined my brother’s family –“

All Hell breaks loose, but Michael can’t be sure because he’s too busy trying to stay conscious. There is something about that – that woman –

Bela. Bela Talbot. She must actually have been his niece, and she was devoured by –

Roderick is shouting, and so are Silvery Lady and Grim Reaper, and he thinks suddenly the Old Men are armed? It’s all so bloody confusing, as Roderick would say, and passing out sure sounds good right about now –

“Leave him alone!”

Roderick.

Michael forces himself to stand up up – he only now realizes he was kneeling on the floor – and punches one of the Old Men, who’s advancing towards him, right in the face. His headache rescinds as he searches for his lover, who is of course right in the middle of the skirmish, Silvery Lady and Grim Soul at his side.

He joins them with a few well-timed kicks. “Think we should flash the bat signal?”

The small vial of water Mel gave him is still stored safely in his pocket, and he throws it on the ground as she instructed him to do.

In the next moment, several monsters rise seemingly out of the floor; without surprise, he sees that Auri sneaked in after all, and that – she has Beatrice on a leash.

Wonderful.

At least it makes things easier. The Old Men huddle into a group on the other end of the room once they realize what’s going on. Talbot once more steps forward. Michael’s head throbs lightly as he is reminded of his niece, but he shakes the thought away.

“What do you want?”

“To talk. To prove that there can be a peaceful cohabit-“

“There won’t be, and there can’t.”

Michael looks into the man’s eyes and sees nothing but hatred and prejudice. In all their eyes, if he’s being honest.

He and Roderick trade a long glance. Then, his love nods.

“In that case” Michael announces “I’m afraid we have no choice. These monsters have been living under your dictatorship for centuries, and it’s about to end. Well, fellows – go wild.”

Roderick gently drags him to a safe place next to the door as all the pent-up anger of the monsters unleashes itself.

Michael winces as Auri decapitates Talbot. “Not a single one of them is going to dare and rebel after this.”

“That’s the point” Roderick drawls, taking his hand. “How’s your head?”

“Better.”

“You managed to get up for me” he says, something like awe on his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael sees Oskar escaping. He knew Grim Soul had a weakness for him. Kid looks too spooked to do much anyway.

He shrugs. “You know how it is – a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. But really, if that means I can control my episodes now – I’ll be chuffed to bits.”

Roderick laughs, far more happily than he should, considering all the death and destruction enfolding around them. “You really have assimilated quite well.”

And amidst all the tortured screams and the rest of the Old Men begging for their lives, he draws him into a passionate kiss.

Chapter Text

With their leaders dead, morale breaks down. Within minutes of hearing what has happened, every single member of the Men of Letters is scrambling for the exit. The monsters and hunters decide to let them go. Maybe they’ll turn over a new page. Maybe they’ll try to take over again. Whatever. They won’t succeed if they do.

“I have to say” Roderick announces once they’re done with clean up. “This place isn’t too bad. A bit pretentious, mind; but if we want to reach as many monsters in the UK as possible, it might make sense to have the seat of the council brought up to London –“

“Actually” Auri interrupts him, “Father and I talked about it and we were wondering if you would be... amenable to another approach.”

Finally, Ailbeart looks at her with undisguised pride in his eyes and Michael can’t help but feel a certain satisfaction at that.

“What would that be?”

“Our council... it belongs in Scotland. It always has. But your idea of an organization for monsters, where they can come for help, is quite an interesting one. So... how about you take over this place?”

“You’re saying we should be –“

“Please give us a moment to talk about it” Roderick says quickly and when Auri nods, they step away from the crowd.

“It’s a good offer” Roderick says bluntly.

“Plus we can still go hunting once we’ve found a few trustworthy colleagues” Michael answers. “So – are we doing this?”

Roderick hesitates. “There is just one thing.”

“You mean the Men of Letters data banks” he says flatly. Of course that’s a bit of a problem – Talbot mentioning his niece almost brought him down to his knees at a rather critical time, and God knows what could happen if he ever looked into stuff too closely related to his life before. “Don’t worry, if we need something, I can get someone else to –“

“That’s not what I’m worried about” Roderick says quickly. “I trust you will be smart enough not to risk your own well-being when it’s not absolutely necessary. No, what I mean is – things may be uncovered that –“

“Oh God, that again?”

“Talbot recognized me as well as you”.

“So what? He obviously didn’t like you, that’s a point in your favour.”

Roderick grimaces. “I’m not so sure.”

“Look. We’ll deal with this stuff when it comes to it, alright? And in the meantime, we can form... a monsters’ union.”

He snorts. “Monsters’ union?”

“Do you have a better name for it?”

Roderick shakes his head. Michael kisses him. “Alright then. Let’s go for it.” 

They do, indeed, go for it.

The first few weeks are difficult. Naturally, there are still hunters in Britain – try as they might, The men of letters couldn’t suppress everything and everyone – but they’re wary of anyone trying to contact them and promising a better future, especially when that someone happens to work closely with monsters.

Naturally, monsters themselves are much more eager once they hear of the new order. They more or less stream in through the doors, happy as can be. Michael and Roderick are regarded as heroes, or at least something very similar.

They still return to Hirta every night. The island has become home, and Beatrice is safest there. Mel transports them to the office each morning, happy as she can be – at least Michael thinks so. It’s never easy to tell with nature spirits.

Not that the isle is as abandoned as it was when they first arrived. More and more monsters come to build a house there, or just to visit them; Auri is more than happy to show everyone around. 

In the midst of all this, he and Roderick grow even close, if that makes any sense at all. They’re now the unquestioned leader of their own weird pack of monsters, hunters who are ready to listen, and supernatural-adjacent people like those who sell spells etcetera, and everyone knows and accepts they’re a package deal.

It makes Michael think of that word for marriage-bed, sometimes, but then it’s not as if they need to get married.

He doesn’t know if Roderick would even want to.

Whether or not though, it’s a far better life than he could ever have asked for when he woke up with no idea who he used to be.

 Michael, much to Roderick’s relief, has kept his promise not to go through the Men of Letters’ files. He’s curious, of course; but he’s still steered far away, thank God. Watching him crumble to his knees when Talbot started talking is a memory that still haunts Roderick’s dreams.

Sometimes he wonders if Michael getting over the pain the spell caused him because he was looking for him means he is as important to him as Michael is to –

Not that it matters. They work well together, and they’re compatible in many ways, so that’s more than enough to go on.

Still...

Now and then, Roderick wonders what the files have to say. About Michael. About him. Why Talbot was so surprised to see him.

And so, one evening, he’s sitting in front of a computer once more, Michael already having gone home after making him promise not to work for too long.

He could use a face scanning software. Look for his likeness among all the data, see what it leads him to.

Who it leads him to. The person he was – good or evil, man or monster – but the unquestionable and unshakeable truth.

He looks at the screen. It would be so easy. Just one click and –

But then he thinks of what Michael said, repeatedly, again and again. Yes, he might not know who he was before, and he thinks he wasn’t necessarily one of the good guys.

There are just too many hints in his half-remembered memories and dreams, indications that Michael didn’t care for him, that he was only in it for himself, that there was something vicious clawing at his insides, something dark and evil, tempting him to do bad things to good people.

He should know what kind of person he was, what kind of person he might become any day again.

But...

But...

They have just finished another hunt. Michael looks at him, his eyes sparkling. “Not bad for a ... bad guy.”

He’s been teasing him about it for a while now, to get him out of his bad mood.

“Shut up” he grumbles and kisses him.  

He wakes up after a night that was plagued by nightmares to find Beatrice in the bed and Michael making breakfast in the kitchen.

“I thought you didn’t like itb when she gets into the bedroom.”

“After the night you had, you deserved a treat.”

He could have sworn Michael didn’t wake up once.

Marriage-bed. What an interesting word.

He’s never thought about it before but the image of Michael with a ring on his finger is a surprisingly pleasant one.

Maybe this is not about learning the truth.

Maybe this is about making a decision.

He turns the computer off.

Time to go home to his lover.

Kansas

Sam stares at Jody. “What?”

“I said, the British Men of Letters seem to have disbanded.”

“Why would they? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“I am aware of that, but my English contacts are pretty confident this si what happened. Apparently they have been working with two hunters who have been...” she sighs. “Now comes the part that sounds especially implausible.”

“Because up until now it was so easy to believe you.”

“Sam” Cas says gently. “We should listen to Jody. If this is true – and she believes it, so it probably is – it’s great news.”

He knows that. The truth is, he’s never really regained his equilibrium, ever sicne Dean went missing. He gets angry way too easily, these days.

“Sorry, Jody. What is it?”

“There seems to have been established – well – monsters and hunters are working together in Britain, now.”

“What?”

“Yes. They actually have a company, of sorts, who takes care of both rogue hinters and monsters? It’s called – wait I wrote it down –“

She holds up her notebook. In the middle of a page, a single word is written down.

unDeteCted.

“Undetected?”

Jody nods. “From what I hear, they seem to be legit. They certainly do care a lot about both humans and monsters, and they do their outmost to ensure the safety of all. It’s lead by two hunters.”

“Do we know them?”

She shakes her head. “No one does, really. They moved mostly in monster circles until they took over the Men of Letters –“

“They took them over? I thought they had disbanded” Cas says.

“Not really. No one really knows what went on, but point is, the Men of Letters are gone, Michael and Roderick – no one knows their last names, by the way – are on top and everything is going well.”

Sam snorts. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“We should definitely make sure everything is as it appears to be” Cas agrees.

“It’ll be better if we have magical reinforcement. I’ll call Rowena.”

Sam isn’t exactly keen on Crowley’s mother’s help, but if they actually can go to Scotland now without repercussions, a location spell is their best bet of finding Dean, if they can ever break through the shielding that’s apparently been set up around him.

Chapter Text

To say that Sam is rather impatient to get to Scotland and look for his brother would be an understatement, but even he can appreciate Cas‘ idea.

“We should try and contact the organization that has taken over the Men of Letters. If they are indeed as tolerant as we’ve been led to believe, they might even help us locate Dean.”

“And my son” Rowena chimes in.

Sam nods, even though he has little hope they’ll find more of Crowley than a few pieces of Armani floating around after all this time. “Jody did send me a card one of her contacts received... Let’s hope for the best.”

Dear Michael and Roderick,

Recently we have heard that you took the Men of Letter’s headquarters. After my own brush with them, I have to say good riddance.

That’s not what I am writing about, though. My older brother has been missing for over a year now, and we have reason to believe that he might be in Scotland. Until now, it was impossible for us to enter the UK, but since the Men of Letters are gone, we are going to instigate a thorough search for him.

We’d be thankful for any help you can give.

Sam Winchester

London

Slowly, more and more requests for help are pouring in. And not just from the UK; now that word is spreading that they did away with the Men of Letters, they’ve gotten messages from all over Europe, and even a few from  America.

Even so, this one surprises Michael especially.

“Roderick?” he asks. They share an office because it’s easier than constantly having to call one another to let them know what they’re up to.

“Yes?”

“Winchester... that was the name of the hunters with the impossible stories, right? Like taking care of God’s sister and all that?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Seems like one of them has gone missing, and his brother is trying to find him.”

Roderick steps up to him and reads the e-mail over his shoulder. “Ah, the sweet stench of desperation.”

Don’t be like that, it’s his brother. And if only half of the stories are true, we owe them big tiome.”

“For what? Saving the world? And me calling him desperate was actually me being nice. Otherwise I’d have said rude or full of himself.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you like me that way.”

He can’t really argue with that.

“Even so, would you please check the files for anything to do with the Winchesters? Since you still won’t allow me to take a  look.”

“And for good reason. Beatrice needs her Daddy.”

“Not her daddy” he mutters, as usual, but accepts the quick kiss Roderick bestows on him.

A few minutes later, Roderick having retired to his own laptop, he says, “That’s weird.”

“What is?” Michael asks.

“Considering Sam Winchester asked us for help to find his brother, it would only be logical that there is a brother to begin with, but I can’t find anything. Just a lot of information on Sam, and that’s it.”

“Maybe it’s because the brother didn’t work for them? Didn’t the stories say something like that?”

“Yes, but that would give them even more reason to know all there was to know about the elder one.”

He can’t argue with that. “What then? Computer glitch?”

“That only destroys specific information?”

Odd, certainly, but Michael’s sure they haven’t been hacked, and there haven’t been any break-ins either.

In the end, they decide to wait for Sam Winchester and see.

After they show they’ve got nothing to fear, of course.

Kansas

“That’s... a little more than I expected.”

“What is it, Samuel?” Rowena asks.

“Roderick answered, and he sent me everything the Men of Letters had on me. Gesture of good will, I’d say.”

“That’s a good sign” Cas answers.

“Yes, it is, but – by God, I never realized just how much they had on us. It’s strange though – why all my information, but none of Dean’s?”

“A show of power, maybe” Rowena says. “It’s what Fergus would have done.”

As always when she mentions Crowley, Sam feels slightly uncomfortable, unsure what he’s supposed to do or say. Truth is, Crowley probably didn’t expect anyone to mourn for him, least of all his mother and the Winchesters, Cas included.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out. Can you get us there?”

“Yes, but I suggest we transport to a place somewhat more secluded than London at first.”

That’s probably for the best. They can’t just appear in front of Big Ben and expect no one to notice. In truth, he would prefer to go directly to Scotland and start the search for Dean, but he knows better than to step on unDeteCted’s (or however they spell it) toes.

“Alright, then. Tomorrow?”

That night, his duffle bag long packed, Sam does something he hasn’t in a while: he visits Dean’s room. In the beginning, when he still thought it should be easy to locate him, it comforted him to see his brother’s things, as if they were waiting for him; then the place became just another stark reminder of Dean’s absence.

Not for long, now. They will find him, and they’ll bring him home, no matter the condition he’s in. Sam knows his brother. He hasn’t given up, he was just unable to contact them for some reason.

All will be well.

The next day

“You are aware this takes quite a lot of power. I will be in need pf a few days of rest before I can cast any major spells again.”

Sam hears the unspoken threat and, at the same time, request that they keep her safe, and nods. Even without magic, they can look for Dean. And they can get to know the Men of Letters’ successors. If they are indeed more open to friendly human-monster interactions, there could be potential there.

Rowena performs the spell. It feels like when Cas transports them and yet nothing like it at the same time; everything starts rushing past him and before he knows it, they are in an empty field, Cas holding Rowena, who looks a bit the worse for wear but manages to stand upright after a moment.

“Alright then” Sam says eagerly. “London.”

Two hours later, they are walking towards unDetected’s headquarters. It’s in the old Men of Letters’ quarters, that much Sam knows; it looks rather unassuming from outside.

“Cas?”

“I detect no warding – except against demons.”

“Small wonder if they are catering towards monsters as well” Rowena comments.

In the end, they decide to simply walk in.

A young woman grins at them from the reception desk. “Good morning! I’m Auri. Michael and Roderick said you were going to come. The Winchesters, right?”

He nods. “Sam Winchester, Castiel and Rowena MacLeod – a witch.”

She doesn’t visibly react to the news, and Cas murmurs, “She’s a ghoul.”

“Yes I am, angel. Please follow me.”

They do, Sam still marvelling at the fact that a ghoul of all things should work for the big bosses themselves.

“Here we are.” Once they’ve reached the highest floor, she points at a door. “Knock and enter. Oh, and... Michael and Roderick are my friends. Our friends. Be nice or half of England’s population is going to devour you whole.”

With that, she turns around and leaves.

“It’s nice hearing  a proper Scottish accent again” Rowena says.

Sam looks at Cas, who shrugs. “I think we should go in.”

They do.

Sam doesn’t really have time to process that the voice who calls out “Come in” upon their knock sounds a little too familiar.

The sight that greets him shocks Sam into utter silence.

Chapter Text

There have been few moments in Crowley’s life where he didn’t know what to do, and thankfully, this isn’t one of them.

In the blink of an eye, he remembers who he was; what he used to do; the deeds he did, the atrocities he committed; but all feeling of guilt and shame is pushed away for now, because he knows exactly what is going to happen.

The second Moose recovers, he’ll call out Dean’s name.

And once he does that –

Crowley remembers almost dying until his – his – until Michael – Dean – brought him back.

With a few quick steps, he stands next to his lover (his lover still, if only until he remembers).

“Sorry, darling” he says gently as he uses well-remembered pressure points to knock him unconscious and slowly ease him down on the floor.

As expected, Sam flies off the rails. “Crowley! What do you think –“

He comes barrelling towards him, and because he’s more careful that Dean should not be harmed rather than looking after himself, they end up rolling around on the floor.

He’s desperately trying to gain the upper hand – he may still possess excellent reflexes and tons of experience, but Sam is several years younger than him – when he feels a presence next to him, then a finger pressing against his forehead, and then nothing.

When he comes to, he’s lying on one of the camp beds they keep in Headquarters in case any monster dropping by needs a place to stay for the night. He sits up but Dean isn’t on any of the other beds, and he hurries to the door, surprised when he finds it unlocked and unguarded.

This is explained when he enters the assembly room, where Sam is in a heated discussion with Auri, Cas trying to meditate between them apparently (in the old times, he might have enjoyed the sight. Angels aren’t exactly known for their knack in diplomacy).

His mother, who he hasn’t spared many thoughts until now, is standing in the background, watching them with keen eyes.

It’s a difficult situation as it is, and if they have told already told them the truth, he might no longer have a leg to stand on in this place that became his home when he no longer knew or cared for what he had been.

Still, he has to know where Dean is, if one of them committed the blunder he dreads.

Crowley strides forward. “Moose, Feathers.” He makes a pause. “Rowena. Fancy seeing you here.”

Auri reels around, her eyes full of fury. “Roderick, thank God – they are saying the most absurd things –“

“Where’s Michael?” he asks because that’s the most important thing on his mind right now (and wasn’t it even back when he was a demon, if he’s being honest?”

She turns back to the new arrivals, something like triumph on her face. “I told you this would be the first thing he asked.”

“Of course, Dean’s his best bargaining chip” Sam argues. “We saw him knock him out –“

“I already explained what happened when Roderick got confronted with his name” Silvery Lady declares portly, drawing herself up to her full height, which still looks rather small compared to Sam’s. “He didn’t want Michael going through the same, which he would have been able to tell you, I am sure, if you hadn’t attacked him like a berserk gone wild and the angel hadn’t rendered him unconscious before he could do so.”

“They’re in love” Grim Soul agrees, “Very much so.” It’s the closest she’s ever been to angry, Crowley’s certain.

“It’s true” he says, “I wanted to protect him.” He doesn’t comment on what Grim Soul said. At best, Sam would love, at worst he simply wouldn’t believe it.

Of course he loves Dean. He has never told him, but until today, his amnesiac self was reasonably sure the feeling was mutual. Not for much longer, though, not when he learns who he’s been sleeping with.

Sam snorts. “Right. You were worried for his health.”

“Yes. Now. Where. Is. He?”

“Next room” Auri says, “We wouldn’t allow them to touch him.”

She must have been monitoring their meeting, then realizes. They can talk about privacy later.

“Is he –“

“He’s still unconscious.” She smiles weakly. “You got him good. Father is with him; he knows a lot about spells, and we couldn’t reach Mel immediately.”

The mercurial nature of wraiths. She’ll come when she sees fit, as he well knows. “Thank you.”

Auri looks into his eyes. “It’s not true.” The confidence of youth. “It’s not true. You weren’t a demon. You didn’t rule Hell.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t wish to lie to you.” he truly doesn’t. Auri has been a good friend to them, and he’s only human now, feels his heart beating wildly in his ribcage, his blood flowing through his veins, his hands shaking at the thought of losing Michael. Of losing Dean.

Michael, he suddenly realizes. Oh. How fitting and yet completely wrong it seems, at the same time.

They are talking quietly enough that no one else heard what he just confessed. He sees the struggle in Auri’s face before she takes a deep breath and decides, “It doesn’t matter. You’re human now, you’ve been with us for almost two years now.”

If only he could believe this is the end of that particular problem.

Rowena strolls towards him. “Fergus.”

He waits for it. Waits for the insults that are sure to come, the derogatory comments he should never have let get under his skin, but invariably did, more of the abuse he was so used to by the time he became an adult in the Scotland of old, he never considered it a parent’s job to make the child’s life easier.

But instead, she walks towards him, studying him. Then finally she says, “You look well.”

“I am in good health.”

She nods, and Crowley’s lost for words when he realizes she’s genuinely glad to see him.

She herself seems to be surprised at her own reaction as well, and they’re caught staring at one another until Auri clears her throat, stepping up to them. “You’re Roderick’s Mum? Why didn’t you say so! Auri. It’s nice to meet you.”

He almost laughs at the absurdity of a ghoul casually welcoming a witch into their small group of friends.

Rowena looks at her, then nods. “Rowena MacLeod.”

“I’ll go see De- Michael” he decides, loud enough for all to hear. Sam looks like he wants to argue, but Cas puts a hand on his arm and says a few words, and he lets it go for now.

He strides towards the door Auri indicated, remembering countless times when he left meetings with demons like this.

Dean’s lying on another camp bed, carefully tucked in, Ailbeart leaning over him. “Roderick. Or should I say Crowley?”

There’s no judgement in his voice or his expression, even though as a member of the council, he has to have heard about the former King of Hell. “Whatever you prefer” he says carelessly, walking up to the bed. “How is he?”

“You knocked him out well and good, as my daughter would say” he answers, “But he should be fine. As far as I can tell, the spell hasn’t been activated.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, reaching out to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, painfully aware that this might be the last time he’s allowed to touch him like this. “Any idea when he’ll wake up?”

When he looks at Ailbeart, the ghoul is staring at him. “There’s no difference” he says abruptly.

“What?”

“To your demeanour. I assumed –“

“You assumed I’d remember being a demon and start slaughtering everyone?”

“I assumed there would be some repercussions” he replies smoothly. “But I can see it’s perfectly safe to leave you alone with him. When he wakes up, you’ll have to explain.”

“I am not sure I am the right person to –“

“He needs to hear the truth from the person he trust the most.”

“If he believes me, that will no longer be –“

Uncharacteristically, Ailbeart reaches out, squeezing his shoulder. “The bond you have is strong. It reminds me of me and my Aingealag.“ He smiles sadly. “You need to tell him.”

He leaves them alone.

Crowley’s not worried about Sam and Cas, or his mother; the others will look after them.

He looks down at the man who has been his link to sanity for almost two years now, the man he was obsessed with long before he realized demons could in fact fall ion love.

How easy it is, as a human, to know what he feels. He always knew what he wanted; it’s all demons can do, scream and want things they shouldn’t have; but this, this tenderness –

“Anyway” he finally says, careful not to divulge anything that might cause him to slip into a coma just in case he decides to wake up this very second, “Why does everything involving family have to be so difficult?”

Chapter Text

Patience has never been one of the virtues he never possesses in the first place, and the next quarter of an hour feels like those infinite hours he spent trying to get Hell in shape.

He desperately wants Dean to wake up so he knows he’s alright, but at the same time he wants him to stay unconscious so they don’t have to deal with this.

Nothing makes sense, and yet, everything does. Because this is what it’s like. Being human. It’s exhausted and complicated. He’s starting to remember why he didn’t enjoy it much the first time around.

Dean finally stirs, his eyes blinking open. “What –“

He sits up, looking relieved. “Roderick.” He draws him into a quick kiss; Crowley is too weak to resist, his heart beating wildly, like a butterfly’s wing, and almost as fragile.

Suddenly, Dean pushes him away, and he thinks he’s remembered after all, but instead he begins with, “What the hell? What did you knock me out for, man?”

He swallows. “You have to promise me that you’ll stop asking if you feel any pain.”

When did Dean Winchester’s well-being become so important to him? He suspects it happened long before he decided to gut himself for him.

“The spell, then.”

He nods.

“Someone who knew me?”

“Someone who knew us” he says carefully, “All three of them.”

Dean winces, and he stands up. “This isn’t –“

“No!” Dean grabs his hand with a familiarity that Crowley can’t feel anymore. Michael might have been Roderick’s lover – might even have felt something for him – but Dean Winchester will never be Crowley’s. Otherwise something would have happened when they were both demons. Not that there was nothing; but they never went –

He’s tired.

“Please, Roderick” he says, his eyes wide.

He’s just as much a goody-good shoes as he’s ever been, Crowley thinks with fond annoyance, but the weight of the world is gone from his shoulders.

It would be so easy to pretend that nothing’s changed. But he can’t. He’s not the demon who took everything he wanted without asking anymore, and there’s no point in acting like he is.

He takes a deep breath. “One of our... guests is a witch. She might be able to help you. She’s rather powerful.”

“A witch? I had some bad connections then?” he grins, looking younger than his years without the memories dragging him down.

“She was more... my connection than yours. But you can say that again.”

Dean laughs, the carefree, easy laugh of Michael, and Crowley wonders how many more times he’ll get to hear it. “And, hey, you have no problems anymore – maybe your memory will come back completely, now.”

This is where he should tell him that it did, but he cannot bring himself to. He’s too selfish for that, as he was when he summoned a crossroads demon while drunk just so he could feel good about something in his life. So he just nods.

Dean gets up, against his protests. “Come on, I’m not some delicate flower. Let’s see if I cna stand their sight.”

“Don’t try and –“ he starts fretting, but Dean shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine. Promise to stay out of my own head.”

It has to be enough.

It’s all a little much to take in, if you ask Sam. Not only has he found his brother, but Dean has no idea who he is, if he tells him it might lead to his death, and he managed to acquire a whole family of monsters in the almost two years that he’s been gone. The ghouls and the banshees seem especially protective of both him and Crowley.

Him and Crowley...

Sam’s not blind. Even if he didn’t believe the banshee, he can’t deny that...

Well...

The former King of Hell was solely focused on getting to Dean and making sure that he was alright, and when he connects the dots to him sacrificing himself for them while glancing back at his brother one last time...

Sam always had his suspicions about their Summer of Love.

“We all want what is best for Michael and Roderick” Ailbeart continues and Sam forces himself to listen. The ghoul seems to be some sort of authority figure.

“Dean’s my brother. I care for him.”

“We don’t deny that” he says smoothly, “Nor do we the fact that Roderick has done a lot for us, his past notwithstanding. But the fact remains that Michael is under a spell that could cause him harm if he remembers –“

“And that’s where I come in” Rowena interrupts him. She has been strangely subdued since they arrived, and especially since she saw Crowley. Cas being silent while taking things in and assessing the situation is nothing new – but her doing the same is practically unheard of. “I am a rather ol- I am a witch in my best years, I will be able to figure something out.”

“So Roderick’s a Scotsman” the one who introduced herself as Auri says. ”Knew it.”

“You should have seen him in his kilt when he was a wee lad” Rowena answers, something like a fond smile on her lips, and Sam remembers Jody giving her condolences.

She chuckles. “that must have been quite  a sight.”

“It was. So, phlan – are there any specifics about the spell I need to know?”

As they discuss the case, Sam steps up to Cas. “What do you think?” he asks under his breath.

“I think they care for them a lot” the angel replies carefully. “And they have dealt with the Men of Letters in a way we couldn’t.”

He nods. “Still – did you realize – I mean – “

Cas smiles softly. “I may be an angel, but since I have met you and your brother, I have learned of many human things, relationships among them.”

“Alright. It’s just – Dean and Crowley?”

“I think it would be appropriate to say that Crowley was – already interested in Dean before this happened.”

“You’d be right about that.”

“So you’re Michael’s brother?”

The happy banshee who is confusingly named Grim Soul steps up to them, grinning. “I wouldn’t have guessed – you look nothing alike. Was Roderick really the King of Hell? He seems much too nice for it.”

“Ahm – yes, he was” Sam says, taken aback. “But he tried to kill himself to save us, so –“

“I told you” she states, turning around and glaring at her sister. “Told you Roderick’s a good man.”

“I didn’t deny that, I just said he must have done a few bad things if he became a demon” Silvery Lady says, exasperated. “Also,. You might pay more attention to the fact that there’s an angel standing in front of you.”

“Oh, angels – know all about them – haloes and prayers. Earth is so much more interesting, don’t you think?” Suddenly she realizes what she’s saying and turns to Cas. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean _”

“It’s quite alright. I have found earth more interesting than Heaven for years now.”

The door behind them opens and Crowley and Dean walk out.

The second the monsters see them, they close in on them, demanding how Dean is, and thankfully his bother doesn’t pass out at the sight of them.

They decide to return home, and Crowley can’t help but feel relieved when he sees Dean in their own four walls again.

Not your walls again. Not anymore.

He ignores his inner voice and begs his – begs Dean to stay away while he and the others discuss what is to be done.

“Fine. But you owe me an explanation when this is all over.”

You won’t want or need one.

He just smiles, hoping it doesn’t look as painful as it feels.

“I know, I know, keep my head down, be a good boy. I promise.” He kisses Crowley matter-of-factly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He then strolls off into the direction of their bedroom and Crowley sighs.

It was so much easier being a demon.

They convene in the library the three weird sisters helped them put into the cottage a few months ago.

After an hour of discussions, they’re still nowhere near a plan. Crowley refuses to even hint something of the truth at Dean, Rowena hasn’t come up with a new spell yet, Cas is somewhat bewildered by them having kept Juliet, apart from everything else, and Sam is stubborn as ever until he finally gets it when Crowley explains what exactly happened to him upon hearing his name.

“Fine” Sam sighs. “We’ll see what you and Rowena may come up with. But if this doesn’t work, we speak to Dean and –“

A thump on the other side of the door tells Crowley his fears have come true. He rushed to wrench it open.

Dean’s lying on the floor, his face a painful grimace. A bottle of water in his hand proves that he wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose – he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when Moose didn’t remember the rules.

Crowley swallows.

It took the most important person in his life to bring him back.

If Sam or Cas can’t get through to Dean –

He’ll die.

Chapter Text

“I told you not to use his name –“ his voice breaks. Crowley clears his throat in a desperate attempt to regain some of his composure.

“Do you really think I meant for this to happen!?” Sam all but shouts; Cas steps between them, while his mother – to his surprise – leans down to take a look at Dean, something like concern fluttering over her face for a second. But then, he could be mistaken.

“Arguing won’t help us. Crowley, you told us that you experienced something similar when you hard your name being pronounced openly, is that correct?”

He nods. “I almost died – not that I can recall a lot of it.”

Only that voice, calling him back. Just like when he was a demon, always that voice, calling him, asking for help, cursing him, and he always,. Always returned to him.

He should have know what it meant, even then.

“We should take him to your bedroom” Rowena decides and they do, or rather, Cas does since he still has his angel strength. Crowley follows, his heart beating wildly in his chest, remembering a half-forgotten day when Gavin (and that is something he cannot think about, no, not yet) was ill as a child, in Scotland, not that far from Hirta, actually –

Juliet whines next to him. Until now, she’s been remarkably quiet, and he reaches out to pet her, to reassure himself. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll be fine.”

Sam mutters something under his breath he doesn’t quite catch, but he doesn’t care. He needs Dean to live. 

He has no idea where he is. He’s only aware that somehow, it’s very peaceful and very chaotic at the same time, and it is with a strange sense of detachment that he realizes he’s lost in his own head.

Literally.

Didn’t Crowley say that when he heard his name –

Wait, Crowley? Who’s Crowley?

He wishes Roderick were here.

He still doesn’t know what to think of his brother and their best friend – plus the witch who spontaneously showed up and seems to be connected with his lover, but they didn’t tekll him any details. They seem worried for him alright, but he’s seen a few strange glances thrown Roderick’s way, and he really didn’t care for that.

Alright, no solving this while he’s – here. He needs to ho back. What happened? 

He wasn’t going to eavesdrop; he was going to keep his promise, he remembers that. And then he heard something – a name – he’d just gotten a bottle of water out of the kitchen, that was all, and –

Dean.

That was the name.

Dean.

It must be his own.

It doesn’t conjure up any memories, but if he’s anything like Roderick, they should return slowly.

If he survives this.

He has to hang on. He came for Roderick to call him back; Roderick will do the same for him, he knows it, feels it in his bones.

Roderick is going to save him.  

Crowley stands in the doorway of their bedroom, watching the others bustle about Dean. He swallows, now that he knows what he used to be all too aware of the clothes hanging of his back, his dry throat and his wildly beating heart.

Juliet whines again and he makes a decision. There is every reason to think that this is the moment the spell breaks – or at least starts to unravel – in Dean’s mind; which means that everyone needed to get through to him and save him is already in the room.

“I’ll take Juliet out for a walk to calm her down” he announces.

Sam turns around so fast it almost gives him whiplash. “You are just going to leave him here?”

If he were still a demon, this would be the moment he left, gone in the blink of an eye, but he can’t. Juliet moves closer to him.

“This...” he says, slowly taking a few steps toward the bed. Towards Dean. “I told you I’ve been there. He brought me back; but only something... very important to the person can do that. And now that the barrier is shattered, that’s you, Moose.”

“Are you sure?”

“Who did he sell his soul for? Who did he return to again and again?”

Plus, he punched you in the face the last time you met – when you were yourselves. When he comes to, when he remembers, he will be disgusted by what you’ve done.

He looks up to meet Cas’ eyes. There’s an understanding in the angel’s eyes that’s almost too much to bear.

How he hates his human weakness.

“Fergus is right. You better start talking to your brother.”

Even his mother sounds somewhat subdued.

He leaves without another glance at Dean.

It’s a brilliant day; the sun is shining, and as he strolls with Juliet towards the cliff that has always been a favourite haunt of all three of them, he remembers a day not long after he and De- after Michal and Roderick became... whatever they were prior to the arrival of the others. Before he realized that he was regaining his memories.

“She’s been in a good mood lately” Michael comments, watching – or rather, listening to – Beatrice as she races up and down the edge of the cliff, now and then chasing butterflies. “Not that she’s normally vicious. For a hellhound, we really got lucky.”

“Yes we did” he says smoothly.

Michael looks at him and shakes his head. “Don’t think I didn’t get what you meant.”

“What did I mean?” He’s feeling unusually playful, very aware what, or rather who, brought on this change; it’s ridiculous, of course; he’s a grown man, even if he can’t remember most of the growing up he did.

Michael laughs, loudly and happily. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

“I bed to differ. My skills at manipulation have proven to be invaluable again and again:”

“Don’t I know it. That DI last week actually believed you were calling MI5.”

“He was annoying.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to make him piss his pants.”

“It was funny, though.”

“Guess I can’t disagree with that” Michael says, stepping up to the cliff to watch the sea, as he’s wont to do.

Roderick takes a moment to appreciate the sunlight playing across his lover’s features.

Granted, he doesn’t remember much of his life, but he doubts he ever met anyone more handsome than Michael.

Juliet barks. He sighs. Whether they call her Juliet or Beatrice is of little to none meaning to her; if only it were that simple with humans.

“So you are going to let him die? That’s rather bad news.”

He’s not surprised that Mel came to find him; yet he’s unsettled that she isn’t looking after Dean at a moment like this.

He turns around. “What do you expect me to say?”

She huffs, looking strangely human. “You really haven’t realized?”

“Realized what? That Dean will –“

“I wasn’t talking about you pitying yourself.” She steps forward, her eyes blazing. “Has it never occurred to you that every spell unravels over time – that it may take months or years, but that it is inevitable that it fails, if not reapplied? It’s the fickle nature of magic.”

“Yes, and it did run its course –“

“Did you never wonder why certain memories reawakened at dramatically convenient moments? Or why no demons ever found you on your beautiful island? Or how Dean's files went missing? Technology is just another form of electricity, you know - and that's just nature.”

He blames his human emotions for clouding his judgement and not catching on sooner. “You. You did this to us.”

“I only made sure the spell stayed in place. Everything else – that was your decision.”

“No. No it wasn’t. We didn’t know who we were, so –“

“And yet you stayed together. And yet you became lovers. And yet you saved the monster of Great Britain.”

“Who do I know this wasn’t your spell too?”

“It wasn’t mine to begin with, remember. It was the one they call Lucifer. I simply... used what I was given when you arrived in my country.”

He remembers how she told him he has a human soul now, yet hinted that this might not have been the case in the past; how she sometimes came when no one expected her, yet always seemed to know what was going on; and begrudgingly he has to admit that she really manipulated them masterfully from the beginning. His old schemes can barely hold a candle to her plans.

“Your country?”

“Of course. I have been here for a long time, Crowley.”

“You decided the Men of letters needed to be dealt with” he realizes “Because they were also harming good monsters. And you couldn’t do it on your own because...” he trails off as the thought occurs to him. Mel is powerful, and old, but not human. She would use improper force, or create a catastrophe, if she just blundered in. “So you used us to do it.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

“Understand is not exactly the word I’d use.”

In a way, he admires what she did, how she played everyone; and he’s also strangely thankful, thankful because at least he had a few short months with Dean –

She shakes her head. “Why can’t you believe me that you were destined to be together in this world?”

“But not in others?”

She shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many I have seen. If I had tried to direct you in any way, nothing would have happened as naturally as it did.”

He shakes his head, knowing it would be futile to try and make her see why everything about their situation would make any human profoundly uncomfortable. “Mel –“

“Crowley” Cas calls out. He turns around and tries not to laugh at the angel jogging up to him, his coat flapping in the wind.

All merriment vanishes from his mind when he sees his expression. “What –“

“Dean took a turn for the worse.”

Chapter Text

This is nothing like Roderick told him.

Maybe it’s because Michael’s lover hasn’t yet shown up; but no matter the reason, the last thing he expected was to suddenly find himself somewhere.

And he is definitely somewhere.

He appears to be under ground, in a... bunker of some sorts? It’s all really bloody confusing.

Alright, he tells himself, take a deep breath, start a search. You’re a hunter. You’re good at this. Maybe you can find your way back on your own.

If he does, he’ll give Roderick a piece of his mind, that much is clear. Really, he could have just tried to get to know their visitors, instead of accidentally being –

The laughter of a small child interrupts his thoughts. He frowns. This is not a place he’d decide to bring a kid to, even though it looks clean and well-kept.

He walks up to a door with a small brass plate saying 4, and somehow he has the feeling that’s not supposed to be there.

Still, he opens it.

What he sees is a small boy giggling while standing on a chair so he can look into a crib. “Mom and Dad told me you wouldn’t be able to play yet because you’d be tiny, but you’re really really tiny!”

A small sound of protest.

“Ah, come on, Sammy.”

Sammy.

His brother.

He remembers his brother.

And even more. Mum, Dad – what happened to her – what they had to live through –

He leans back against the door, swallowing as his name comes back to him.

Dean. Dean Winchester, not Michael.

He’s called Dean.

“Didn’t you try and talk to him?”

“That’s all I have been doing since you left! It’s not working, and his pulse is growing faint –“

“Mother –“

“There is only so much I can do. I am sorry.”

To his surprise, she actually is. He can tell.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “What do you suggest=”

“We thought...” Cas trades a glance with Sam. “We thought you could try to bring him back, just like he saved you.”

“What= I’m not –“

“Crowley, we have no other choice.”

He supposes they don’t. “Fine. I’d like to be alone with hi. I’ll call if – if there are any changes.”

They leave, albeit reluctantly, Sam taking Juliet with him. Crowley sits down next to Dean, remembering another time when he was waiting for him to wake up a demon. “Hello, Squirrel. Remember me yet?”

He knows his name. He knows their home went up in flames. He knows he was raised a hunter. But other than that...

He leaves the children to their own memories and closes the door behind him.

He needs to find more.

Soon enough, there is a door with the number 22 on it.

What he sees when he opens it isn’t pretty.

“Sam, you can’t –“

“I can! It’s my life! I’m not like you, I’m not going to be Dad’s good little soldier –“

He leaves soon afterwards, his heart pounding, his head full of four years’ worth of memories hunting alone.

It’s only the beginning. Slowly, he starts to piece his life together; some things make him smile while many, many others make him wonder if losing his memory was a blessing or a curse.

Well, at least he’s best friends with an angel. That’s something.

But the more he looks, the more he becomes aware that something – someone is missing.

Where is Roderick in all of this?

He feels that he knew him before. He knows it. He can’t explain why.

So where is he?

“I’d really like you to show some improvement any time soon, lest your brother grows angry...” Crowley hesitates. Dean will undoubtedly no longer welcome his touch, but...

He reaches out and takes his hand. “Don’t kill me for this.” After a pause he adds, “You can try though, for old times sale. If you want.”

There. Another door. Deep in the basement. This time, there’s no number on it; rather a symbol, no, the Mark of Cain. He recognizes it now.

And somehow he knows that there’s Roderick behind the door.

He goes in.

“You know, looking back... I cannot say if getting rid of Abbadon was my greatest motive in getting you to take the Mark of Cain. Ever since the human blood – no, before then. I guess I was never really that good a demon. An excellent businessman, of course, and I was never a decent human, so demon was the next logical choice, but...”

He’s just inanely chattering away now, but there is nothing else he can do. He thinks about calling the others, Auri, Silvery Lady, Ailbeart, but what can they possibly do? Sam for some reason didn’t get Dean to snap out of it, so how can he hope that someone he will?

This... is not what he expected.

This is a freaking mansion. What the Hell?

He follows Sam and himself – by now he’s gotten used to the visual – down a corridor undoubtedly on some dangerous mission or other. What else is new. Really, he was expecting something more like –

He stops and stares as someone appears in the hallway.

Roderick.

No, not Roderick.

Crowley.

Demon.

King of the crossroads.

King of Hell.

As with his other memories, it all comes rushing at once, and the old pain he associates with the spell returns with a vengeance.

“Dean?”

The hunter has seized up. Crowley leans over him, pressing his hand to his forehead, trying to take his temperature. “Dean!”

 The pain disappears as quickly as it came.

His memories are finally all in place again.

Dean doesn’t pay attention to his and Crowley’s first meeting and instead returns to the bunker in his mind, letting himself sink down on a chair in the kitchen.

Crowley.

He’s been saving the monster of England with Crowley –

With his lover. He and Crowley are doing it, they are banging, they –

That’s not it though, is it? Because if this was all there is to it...

No, that’s not true.

Because Dean’s life has completely spiralled out of control over the last two years, he can admit that, but –

It’s also kind of awesome, when he thinks about it? Sure, the TV reception on Hirta sucks, and Crowley has a habit of hogging the blankets when he’s cold, and –

He starts giggling uncontrollably when he remembers just how human Crowley is, these days.

And yet so unmistakably his old self.

For the longest time after he was cured from being a demon, Dean wouldn’t admit to himself that he and Crowley... well, there was almost a solid reason for Sam calling it their Summer of Love. Almost.

He’s always been able to understand him in a way his brother and Cas can’t, so it’s probably only logical that they’d end up where they are now.

For a while, he wonders why he’s so relaxed about this until he realizes that even with his memories back, he’s not the same guy who lost them – he’s got more memories now, and Michael’s life with Roderick was... practically idyllic in some ways. He remembers being very relaxed, and almost ridiculously smitten with his partner; and that’s something to cherish, at least, because he never thought he’d have it.

Great. So what he needed to feel good about himself again was an apple pie life with a former demon who gutted (he shudders involuntarily; he’s not going to allow him to do that again) himself for them.

Everything’s a chaos, really. His whole life has been thrown into a blender and remixed, making him do things he’d never have imagined doing, actually daring to try and be happy.

Dean knows that he should be freaking out much more. Hell, he should probably wake up out of sheer anger, lash out against anyone who happens to be near because this is nothing but chaos and madness and the spell that somehow made him –

Only the spell didn’t make him do anything. It didn’t make them do anything. Yeah, he decided they might as well stop dancing around one another because of it, but that was it.

Dear God, why does everything in his life have to be so awfully complicated? His head’s spinning.  

And yet, he’s strangely at peace. Because he can hear Crowley’s voice, clear as a bell; he knows how to get home; and moreover, with his memories and the life he leads now to compare, he is sure what he wants. It’s a bit crazy, and weird, but it could also potentially be brilliant, so who’s he to object?

Someone calls his name.

He knows exactly who.

“Come on, Squirrel, please. Your brother wants to speak to you, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t have anything against it if you –“ Crowley’s rather desperate monologue is interrupted by Dean opening his eyes.

“Crowley?”

He braces himself for the punch that is sure to follow, like the last time –

Dean breathes “You took your time” and drags him into a kiss.

Chapter Text

“Dean?“ he asks, drawing back, thoroughly confused. Is this the moment when he starts laughing and pushing him away?

Exactly this has always been Crowley’s problem – he’s damn clever, but when it comes to emotions –

Dean laughs. “Nah. I can imagine what you expected, but let’s be honest – if my life as Michael has taught me anything, it’s that good things do happens sometimes, and that we should hold onto them when they do.”

“You are an enigma, Dean Winchester” Crowley answers, almost looking awed before he clears his throat. “I mean – any pain left? And your memories have all returned?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. We should better go and tell Cas and Sammy.” He gets up.

“What if he can’t –“ Sam begins again, only to break off once more. He shakes his head. Juliet – Crowley’s hellhound, as if things weren’t complicated enough – tries to comfort him by licking his hand.

“Why does it always gave to be like this?” he ask resignedly.

“You and your brother live rather... complicated lives” Cas acquiesces. “But you always win, in the end.”

“I am not sure I trust Crowley to fix him, though.”

“He will” Rowena says suddenly. Sam looks at her. Her face is strangely white, and there’ a look in her eyes he has never seen before.

“Are you alright?”

“I always am, Samuel.” She mutters something to herself that sounds like “Never seen him like this before” but before he can react, the door opens and Dean strolls in.

“Dean?”

“Heya, Sam.”

“Alright” he says, an hour of explanations later; Crowley, Cas and Rowena have left them alone for now, while the ex-king explains what happened to them. “So you... basically turned the Men of Letters into a good thing by taking them over.”

Dean grins. “Yep.”

“And you have a whole bunch of monster friends now.”

“Yeah.”

“And you and Crowley are... dating.”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to take a while to get used to.”

“I already had that.”

“I’d still like to have a word with that water wraith, though.”

“You’ll get to meet her soon enough. Mel always shows up sooner or later.”

Sam sighs. “Dean, you know this is crazy, right?”

“Yes” he admits. “But you know what, Sammy? After everything I’ve been through... I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Don’t stare like that, Feathers.”

“I am sorry. It is still somewhat disconcerting not to see your true face.”

“Aw, you don’t think I’m pretty anymore?”

Cas stares at him. He raises his hands. “Alright, alright.”

“Crowley” he says quietly, “All I need to know is that you are on  our side now, and that you will stay there; and that you will look after Dean.”

“Believe me, Cassie – now that I’ve got the option, I won’t let it slip out of my grasp.”

They decide to keep Hirta as their home base. Mel offers them free passage to America whenever they need it, giving them direct access to the Men of Letters’ bunker, and the truth is that both Dean and Crowley feel more at home in their house than they have ever felt anywhere else.

Sam, meanwhile declares that he doesn’t mind where he lives, exactly, and Cas accepts their invitation to live with them with a big smile.

The monsters throw a party when they hear the news. Or rather, it’s more accurate to say that there whole island is transformed into one gigantic party for two days straight, more monsters arriving every minute to congratulate and thank them once more.

In the midst of it all, Dean and Crowley steal a private moment for themselves. “How does it feel to be a good, productive member of society, your Highness?”

“Don’t know about this particular society being productive as a whole. If Grim Soul drinks more whiskey, she’ll be singing folks songs, and you know how Silvery Lady will react to that.”

“I don’t know, she’s busy discussing policy strategies with Ailbeart, so...”

Crowley shakes his head. “It’s more entertaining than meetings in Hell.”

“Isn’t that something.”

They’re about to kiss when Auri shows up and drags them to yet another monster toasting them.

One night, a shadow steals out of Dean’s and Crowley’s house.

Once she’s reached the cliffs, Rowena reaches into her coat and pulls out the ingredients she’d need for the spell to make her son a demon again, stronger and perhaps more vicious than before.

After a moment of hesitation, she throws them into the sea.

“A good decision” a voice says behind her, and she turns to find the wraith the boys told her about.

“Not an easy one.”

“The best one seldom are. May I ask why? There are so many worlds out there, and in many you act differently.”

“I can assure you I had a plan when we arrived here. I would help them find Dean, but then I would ensure that Fergus was back under my thumb...” she trails off. “There was only one problem. Even if I had known he was human, I didn’t think what –“

She breaks off. Seeing Fer- no, Crowley again was a shock to her, she cannot deny that; and despite having grieved for him, she didn’t realize how profoundly she had mourned her son who had become a hero in the end.

“And even if I could have foreseen some of this” she finally continues, “I wouldn’t have expected to find him happy.”

She’s never truly seen him happy, until now. He was a good King of Hell, no matter what he or his former subjects think; excellent in many ways; but not happy.

And when she found him –

She saw love. The love she thought he was incapable of feeling, the love she had for his father, even if she doesn’t allow herself to dwell on that, these days, preferring to tell everyone he was conceived in an orgy.

Better than having an affair with a married man, back in those days.

“I thought I’d stay close, though, make sure those boys don’t get up to any shenanigans” she says firmly. “God knows what my son and a Winchester get up to when they are alone.”

“They’ve been doing fine, but I see your point.” Mel smiles. “And there really are so few witches left... maybe it is time for you to return home.”

Silence.

“A new start for yours truly too, then” Rowena says finally. “I assume you’re not surprised.”

“I rarely are” she replies, “But the strength of Dean’s and Crowley’s bond did surprise me, at least at the beginning. This si one of the better worlds.”

And with that’s she’s gone.

Rowena never tells anyone, but she builds a little hut not too far from her son and who she comes to secretly call her son-in-law when she feels like it.

A few weeks later – Sam and Cas are watching over the weird sisters constructing another house for a few other monsters who are interested in living near them, although Auri has jealously guarded her right to call herself their nearest neighbour – they go for a walk once more. Grim Soul spontaneously showed up to play fetch with Juliet, so they can leave them alone.

“Kind of wild how it all ended up, don’t you think?” Dean asks casually. “I mean we have all the Men of Letters’ data at our disposal, now. We can reach out to America properly, create a new form of hunter-monster society if we want.”

“It seems like a rather impressive task to undertake.”

“Which is why we are the best men for the job” Dean grins. His two year with no baggage didn’t solve all his problems, of course, sometimes he still gets nightmares and wants nothing more than to sit in the dark and drink, but he isn’t alone anymore when he wakes up.

Crowley’s got his moments too, when the memories of what he did and what he enjoyed to do come crashing down around him, but they usually pull through okay.

All in all, most days Dean finds he’s even thankful or Lucifer trying to blast them away.

“We should put up a sign. Like Winchesters, Inc. or something like that.”

“Depends. Can I be on the board of directors?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “As one of the Winchester, sure, but I tell you, I’m not wearing white.” He realizes Crowley has stopped walking and turns around to find the former demon studying him with a strange expression on his face. “What?”

“That sounded like you were talking of matrimony.”

“I was” he shrugs. “There’s this Gaelic blood oath ceremony, isn’t there? Seems about right for us.”

“You know” Crowley replies, having regained his composure, “There was a time when I didn’t like being surprised.”

Before Dean can answer, he’s kissing him.

“Dean? Crowley?”

They reluctantly pull back when they hear Auri’s voice. “There’s a case, Mel says it’s big...”

Dean sighs, then holds out his hand. “Deal with this then continue?”

Crowley nods and takes it as they walk towards their home, ready to avert the next crisis.