Chapter Text
Henry ran into the lab in a panic. He didn’t know what was going on, how Abaddon had managed to possess Josie and get past the wards, anything. All he knew was that he had to get out of the building with whatever it was Larry had told him to keep safe. And there was only one spell he knew that would for sure get him out in one piece.
The ingredients were hard to find, but fear made him preternaturally fast. He drew the sigil and chanted the spell. The portal formed with such force that it sucked him in and spit him out almost before he could think of his destination.
He found himself on his hands and knees, panting hard. One thought in his mind. Johnny. Have to get to Johnny.
He looked up to find himself surrounded. The women he could discount, and the blond who was wearing a vest as a shirt, but too many of the men looked familiar. He couldn’t be sure which one was his son.
So the second he had his breath, he asked, “Which of you is John Winchester?”
“Who wants to know?” the tall man with the short, thick curls of ebony hair growled.
Then he became aware of the guns and swallowed hard. “Johnny? Don’t you know me? It’s your Pops.”
“Our father’s father left him high and dry,” the tall man with the bandy legs standing near the one who had spoken snarled.
Okay, so that must be his... grandson? “I-I didn’t mean to. We were attacked; I had no choice but to jump to this year. Please, which of you is John? Time is of the essence.”
“Time travel,” the older woman nodded. “That explains plenty.”
“It does.” The man who’d spoken first lowered his gun, but kept it close at hand. “Talk to me, Pops.”
Henry swallowed hard. It hurt to see his baby boy not only grown up, but so old, so suspicious. “Are these others also Men of Letters?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“But—you must have—n-never mind. John, I need your help. I have to get back to the club on Gaines Street.”
“Gaines Street,” the guy in the trucker hat said. “John, you lived where when your daddy vanished?”
“Normal, Illinois,” John said. “Mean somethin’?”
“Might.” He sat at a box and typed. “... Gaines Street fire, same night your daddy vanished. No survivors.”
“No,” Henry breathed. “No, they... they can’t all be dead—”
“Facts are facts, hombre,” the man with the sleeveless shirt said. “Can’t change the past. What’s done is done.”
“No, that’s not what I—” But Henry was interrupted by the door behind him rattling again. His heart leapt into his throat, and he just barely managed to remember the Enochian locking spell and choked it out just as light began building again behind the door.
The light flared and a scream rattled along everybody’s nervous system. Then the door exploded open to show a red-haired woman in a bloody dress—before the light seemed to pull her backward and implode on itself.
Then there was just the dark silent closet looking back at them, a sigil on the back wall shattering into three parts before slowly going dark.
The shocked silence was finally broken by the lankiest of the tall men. “What the heck was that?”
“Abaddon,” Henry breathed.
“... the Hell Knight?” the guy in the trucker cap yelped.
Henry nodded. “She attacked us the night of my final initiation into the Men of Letters. I... I d-didn’t think she’d f-f-follow me....” Suddenly his stomach flipped upside down.
“Good thing you locked the door,” a young man, slightly taller than John, said as he lowered his gun.
Henry nodded, but his hand flew to his mouth before he could try to speak. A young blonde woman grabbed him and bodily hauled him twenty feet to a trash can, where he quickly lost what remained of his dinner.
“It’s okay, Mr. Winchester,” said the blonde. “It’s okay.”
He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “I’m sorry. It’s just... the adventures I prefer are usually of a literary nature.”
“Dude,” bandy legs laughed softly and looked at the tallest man. “Looks like you came by it honestly.”
The tallest man grinned and ducked his head.
“Boys,” John said. “That’ll do.”
Henry gulped. “These are your sons, John?”
“The two flanking me are,” he said.
The tallest one nodded. “I’m Sam. This is Dean.”
“I’m Jess,” the blonde said, helping him up.
“Ellen Harvelle,” said the older woman. “My boy Ash,” she added, nodding toward the blond.
“Bobby Singer,” the guy in the trucker cap said.
The petite redhead standing next to Singer waved. “Charlie Bradbury.”
“Garth Fitzgerald IV,” the lanky man said.
“Chuck Shurley,” said the last man, who had curly brown hair and a scruffy beard.
Jess turned to him. “You’re still up? Bed. NOW.”
Chuck looked like a kicked puppy. “How could I sleep with all this going on?”
“Chuck, you’ve been up for almost 48 hours with nightmares. Come on.”
“THAT was what I was dreaming about!” Chuck shot back, pointing at the closet with a shaking hand. “That—blood and fire and screams and....”
“But you didn’t see him closing the door,” Bobby pointed out.
“No. I... I didn’t. I think... some of what I saw wasn’t here. There were men in embroidered robes; I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“The ambush,” Henry breathed. “He saw the ambush.”
Chuck started rubbing at his forehead like he was getting a headache.
Charlie sighed, handed her gun to Garth, and took Chuck by the arm. “C’mon. Now that Mr. Winchester’s locked the door, maybe the nightmares will go away and you can sleep.”
“I hope so,” he mumbled as he was taken out of the room.
Henry ran a hand over his face as he tried to pull himself together. “I still can’t believe Abaddon could have killed everyone. Mr. Singer, does that”—he gestured toward the box—“list the names of the deceased?”
“Yes.” He turned back and read off names.
Henry’s heart sank until Bobby got to—“Albert Magnus?!”
“Friend of yours, Pops?” John asked.
Bobby snorted. “Alias, idjit. Albertus Magnus—Albert the Great, man who taught Thomas Aquinas.”
Henry’s breath caught. “You... what rank are you?”
Bobby frowned. “Do what, now?”
“In the Men of Letters. What rank are you?”
Bobby’s frown deepened, but Ellen spoke up. “Like John said, none of us ever heard of this Men of Letters thing.”
“But he is one—he speaks like—”
“We’re hunters, Pops,” John said.
“No... Nononono....” And the stress of it all caught up and Henry slid to the floor.
“We need to get him to a bed,” Jess said even as her fingers expertly found his pulse point.
“He okay?” Sam asked, frowning.
“He’s kind of shocky. Just needs rest right now, though.”
John looked at the closet. “... looks like the Home’s got a new occupant, boys.”
“Home?” Henry squeaked as Sam and Dean scooped him up between them. “What... what home?”
“This is the Home for Wayward Hunters, Pops. We just call it the Home. Rest, we’ll talk later.”
“I’m... not....” Then Henry’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he knew no more.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a homey bedroom. Everything in it looked brand new. There was even a lingering odor of fresh paint, he noticed as he shakily pushed himself to sit up.
“Mr. Winchester? Oh, you’re awake.” Jess smiled as she walked into the room. “Brought you some water.”
“Thank you,” he croaked.
“Mind if I give you a quick once-over?”
He shook his head.
She was a medic, he found out, and a very competent and professional one.
“So do I check out?” he asked her as she finished.
“I’d take it easy for a day or two—you’ve had a nasty shock.”
He sighed. “More than one, honestly.” He sipped at his water.
“I can’t imagine. But we’re glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad to be alive. But I can’t understand... we Winchesters, we’re legacies. I should have brought John up in the ways of the Letters—I-I was going to start right after my initiation. What happened? Why are they hunters? And Bobby, too... he looks rough, but he sounds like a scholar.”
“That’s their story to tell, sir. I came in very late to it.”
“And how did you come into it?”
“A demon possessed my best friend and tried to murder me.”
“I’m so sorry. And I can relate. Josie, the woman Abaddon was possessing... she was my best friend.”
She nodded. “Sam and his father saved my life.”
“How do you know them?”
“I met Sam at Stanford. He’s my boyfriend, and if he doesn’t hurry up and propose, I’m going to do it for him.”
Henry burst out laughing at that. Then something she said registered. “Wait, did Sam study at Stanford?”
“Yes, sir. Just one year from graduating.”
He blinked. “He didn’t finish?”
“My attack put an end to that. Now he’s a double major at a college here in Sioux Falls and doing excellently.”
He blinked some more and took a drink of water. “Sioux Falls. I assume it’s to do with... all this?”
“This house is the best warded property for miles. We’re safe here.”
“But not at Stanford.” He sighed. “What was it John called this place?”
“The Home.”
“I mean the longer name.”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “Singer & Winchester’s Home for Wayward Hunters.”
“Singer and Winchester... so John and Bobby are in it together?”
“Yes, sir. Best friends.”
“So what makes you and John’s boys wayward hunters?”
“Sam left. Why is his story to tell.”
“But... you’re here.”
“We’re here.”
He searched her face. “There’s something you’re not telling me. And I don’t mean about how my son and grandsons came into hunting. Something recent, something... that has nothing to do with you.”
She frowned.
“Jess. What’s wrong with John?”
She licked her lips. “That’s his story to tell.”
“Is it serious?”
“It was. But it’s much better.”
He drew a deep breath, accepting the answer for what it was. “Thank you.”
She nodded and left the room.
Before Henry could do more than quiet his spinning thoughts, John had walked in. “Jess said you were awake.”
“Hi,” Henry breathed.
John nodded. “Hey, Pops.”
“You got tall.”
John chuckled. “I’m fifty-six now.”
Henry shook his head a little. “Can’t believe I missed so much of your life. I’m sorry.”
“You’re here now.”
“I am. And so are you.” Henry gestured toward the chair that sat at a desk across the room. “Sit down, son. Help me get caught up here.”
John sat down. “Feels weird you callin’ me son when I’m twenty years older than you.”
“Tell me about it,” Henry replied with a wry chuckle. “I’ll save my professional questions to later, Sport, because there’s one thing I’m worried about. Jess said Sam transferred from Stanford to a school here, a year before he was to graduate. Most families I know, there’s only one reason for that.”
“Which is....”
“A parent who’s seriously ill.”
“Benign brain tumour.”
Henry took a deep, ragged breath. “Benign. That’s... that’s....”
“Better than cancer.”
“A lot better. Have you had surgery?”
“I have. My short-term memory is back, but there are a few holes that will never be filled. And according to the boys, my personality has shifted back to the father Dean remembers from the drill sergeant Sam does.”
Henry frowned. “Drill sergeant? Johnny, what happened?”
“It’s been a very long story.”
“I’m sure it has. But I want to hear it all.” Then Henry’s stomach growled loudly, and he chuckled. “Well, maybe eat first.”
“Hold on.” He went to the door. “Hey, Sammy? Think you could run us up a couple of plates before you three head to class?”
“Yes, sir!” Sam called back.
“Thanks, son!” As he turned back, he heard the “still not used to him saying thanks...” and sighed.
Henry studied John’s face. “Were you in the military?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Army?”
“Marines.”
Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “Good thing you never knew your Uncle Eddie, then. He was Army all the way.”
“Lord, we’d have had some shouters...”
Henry laughed. “Yeah, you would have.”
“There was a war, in the ’60s and ’70s. I enlisted.”
“China? Russia?”
“Vietnam.”
“Viet—what?? What happened to the peacekeepers?”
“We were the peacekeepers. And we lost.”
Henry stared at John, not noticing that Sam was coming in behind him. “How in the WORLD could America lose a war?!”
“Very easily,” John said. “When the public isn’t behind the soldiers.”
Before Henry could ask why the public wouldn’t support the troops, Sam cleared his throat. “Ellen said to tell you guys there’s plenty more where this came from,” he said, handing John two plates of something that smelled like roast beef.
“Thanks, Sammy.” John handed one plate to Henry and sat down with the other.
“You’re welcome. We’ll be back after class.” Sam gave Henry a smile and nod before leaving the room.
“Oooh, this is good,” John said between bites.
Henry tasted his helping and nodded his agreement. “So Ellen is... not your wife.”
“No. She’s one of my best friends. Though... by all rights, she shouldn’t be.”
“Why not?”
“A hunt went wrong. Her husband was fatally wounded. I had to mercy shoot.”
Henry sighed. “John, you should never have had to be in the field to begin with. I’m gathering I don’t make it back from this time, and for that, I’m more sorry than I can say.”
“I was ‘in the field’ to find the son of a bitch who gutted my wife and set her on fire before my eyes.”
Henry gasped.
“That is why I became a hunter.”
Henry looked at his plate, then at the wall. “I... never thought to ask why someone would become a hunter. The ones I knew were all violent brutes, shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions later.” His eyes slipped shut. “Even after seeing what Abaddon did to the elders... I can’t imagine seeing that happen to Millie. I can’t fathom how badly that must have hurt.”
“We’re learning we seem to be the exceptions in hunting,” John said. “We’re learning how to research, to know what we’re facing and to find out if there’s another way to dispatch them.”
Henry looked at John again. “That’s what the Men of Letters do—did. We’re preceptors, beholders, chroniclers of all that man does not understand. We’d pass on information to a small group of hunters, the very elite. They’d do the rest.”
“Who were they?”
“Various groups around the world. The Judah Initiative was one. The Elkins family. The Campbells.”
“Mary’s family name was Campbell.”
Henry blinked. “That’s... you don’t happen to remember her father’s name, do you?”
“Absolutely. Samuel. We named Sam after him and Dean after his wife Deanna.”
Henry’s mouth fell open in shock.
“Pops?”
“You married Samuel Campbell’s daughter?!”
“Yes....”
Henry laughed. He had to. He didn’t even care that there was a hysterical edge to it.
“You knew him, then?”
“Knew him? I had the misfortune to work with him a couple of times. How did you and Mary even meet? Last I knew, Samuel’s family lived in Lawrence, Kansas.”
“Mom remarried and we moved to Lawrence when I was twelve.”
“Of all the crazy coincidences... a Winchester marrying a Campbell.”
“I loved her.”
“I’m sure you did, and I never meant to imply otherwise. It’s just... we’re legacies, the backbones of the Men of Letters, and the Campbells are one of the oldest hunting families in the States.”
“Well, this proud hunting family turned me and my boys out on our ears.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Samuel and I never did get along. But even if they didn’t know you were my son... you weren’t blood kin. The Campbells are for the Campbells.”
“My boys were.”
Henry sighed. “Suppose it might depend on what it was that killed Mary.”
“A demon with yellow eyes named Azazel.”
“Azazel? What—Azazel’s one of the rulers of Hell. Why would he attack Mary?”
“To get to Sam. To bleed in his mouth.”
“What?!”
“He was trying to make my innocent boy the Boy King of Hell.”
“Sam? That Sam?” Henry shook his head, unable to get his head around the idea.
John nodded. “Won’t happen now.”
Henry drew a deep breath. “You stopped him, then?”
“Sammy did.”
Henry sighed in relief and smiled. “Good going, Sam.”
“He made a fatal mistake. He went after Sam’s girl.”
“Yes, Jess mentioned something about that.”
“So what else do you want to know?”
“I... I don’t know, son. I’m pretty overwhelmed right now.”
He nodded. “Well, then.”
“Has Bobby tried to trace which of the Men of Letters might have survived?”
“He should have it soon.”
Henry nodded slowly. “Good. Thank him for me.”
John nodded and headed out.
Henry set his plate on the nightstand and got up with a heavy sigh, his head spinning. So much of what he’d just heard he could barely conceive of happening to his little boy. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way, not for Winchesters.
He moved to the window and watched Jess and his grandsons get into a large black car and drive away. He watched as the car passed down the driveway through—a junkyard?! His son lived... in ... in a JUNKYARD??
“Hi, Mr. Winchester,” Charlie said behind him. “Have you finished with your plate? I’ll take it down for you.” The small redhead moved to take the dishes.
Henry pulled himself together. “Yes. Thank you, Charlie. So... what is it you do around here?”
She shrugged. “Little bit of everything.”
“You seem awfully young to be a hunter.”
“Well, I’m more of a... researcher.”
Henry’s eyes lit up. “You enjoy research?”
“It’s fun.”
“I bet you’d make a great Woman of Letters.”
She smiled. “I think I would.”
“Listen, once I find out what this thing is I’m supposed to keep safe, why don’t I get you started on the initiation path? John and his boys, too, and Bobby if he wants.”
“Why do we have to be initiated? You’re the only one left.”
Henry blinked several times, opened his mouth, and closed it again. “I... well... huh. There is that.”
“Besides, initiations are just a load of bull, anyway.”
“What?! They’re loaded with symbolism and tradition and....”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! They’re stuffy and boring! And what is the point of sitting there jumping through hoops to try to make it into something that’s so high up here they look down on the rest of us? I’d never be accepted into your elite.”
That threw him. “Why not?”
“I like to do things my own way.”
“I... don’t think being independent is a bad thing.”
“Your former organization would.”
“What makes you so sure? You barely know anything about us.”
“I know—from your own words—that your group hated hunters. Had dismissed us as mouth-breathing Neanderthals. And that you felt you were the ‘elite’, better than everyone else.”
He sighed. He couldn’t deny that.
“There was no room there for someone like me. Or like your son and grandsons.”
“But—John and his boys, they’re legacies. We would have made room.”
“No, Mr. Winchester.” Her voice was sad. “Your ivory tower had no room for the marble messiness of reality.”
That should have made him mad, but it just confused him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Have you ever read Tolkien?”
“I read The Hobbit once as a boy. His new books—well, new to me—sound interesting, but I haven’t had time to read them.”
“They tell of a great battle between good and evil — and one single kingdom who thinks they’re better than everyone else and that nothing will touch them.”
“So what happens?”
“They’re nearly destroyed before the Fellowship realizes that the king is under a spell.”
He hissed.
“When they break the spell, they turn out to be one of the best assets to the Fellowship. But the king is ultimately killed.”
Henry suddenly flashed back to running into that initiation room, Larry bleeding out from his eyes, Ted and David trying to exorcise Abaddon, and Josie—dear Lord, poor Josie—
“The evil is ultimately defeated by the two things they never expected—a woman and a once-upon-a Hobbit who was enslaved by greed.”
“Enslaved... you mean that... Gollum thing?”
“Yeah. You see—Frodo gave in. He was going to keep the ring and God help anyone who got in his way. He felt he was better than anyone else, that the Ring made him powerful. Then Gollum ripped the ring right off his finger and the force of that threw him and the Ring both into the volcano.”
Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Henry staggered back to the bed.
She helped him sit.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. There’s just... so much....”
“No, not really.”
“I’m not even sure what year it is.”
“It’s 2005.”
“Almost... almost fifty years of my boy’s life, and I wasn’t there....”
She rubbed his back.
“He’s older than I am. Can you imagine what it’s like? He was in third grade, and now... now his sons are in college.”
“They’re good men, Mr. Winchester.”
“I can tell, but... the things they’ve been through... I mean, Azazel.”
“Is dead.”
“And I’m so proud of Sam, I can’t say—but I should have been there. I should have prepared John.”
“Stop with the should haves.
“Josie, it’s—” He caught himself and ran a hand over his face. “Sorry.”
“She looked like me, huh? I saw a flash of red hair in the portal.”
He nodded. “Not a striking resemblance, but... yeah, the hair. She was my best friend.” He sighed. “Heck, it was more than that. She loved me.”
“And you loved her back.”
He took a ragged breath and let it out again. “Yeah. I suppose there’s no harm in admitting it now. If... if we hadn’t... Dad insisted it was a bad idea to marry another member of the Letters. And Millie... I did love her, truly. She was a good woman, strong, kind, wonderful mother. She’s probably the reason John survived my disappearing. But Josie....” His voice trailed off as a tear spilled down his cheek.
“Now see? Your elite group denied you your true love and it ended in tragedy.”
Henry flinched hard.
“If you rebuild this Men of Letters—can the elitist crap, okay?”
It was all he could do to nod.
“Charlie,” Bobby rumbled from the doorway. “Back it down.”
“Yes, Mr. Singer.” She moved past him with the dishes.
Bobby came in and shook his head. “Sorry about that. Charlie is something of a force of nature.”
Henry managed a weak smile. “I can tell.”
“She’s very passionate.” Bobby studied Henry. “Looks like you’re a bit overwhelmed.” He sat on the bed.
“Just a tad,” Henry confessed with as much of a laugh as he could muster.
“Suppose you tell ol’ Bobby about that night.”
Henry sighed and shifted the pillows so he could lean back against the headboard. “Something told me to go in and check on John before I left. Never thought... I was supposed to be home by midnight.”
“He told me he remembered that well.”
Henry drew a deep breath. “I suppose a little background would be useful. You see, just a few weeks earlier, Josie and I had gone out to investigate a Class 3 infernal event. It was our last requirement before the final initiation.”
“Go on.”
“Milton, Illinois. There was a convent there, St. Bonaventure’s. Abaddon and some of her minions were using it as... as a demon factory, I suppose, stealing souls while leaving the bodies alive. The bodies caused havoc without the rational powers of the soul to stop them, and the souls were somehow being fast-tracked for Hell. Josie and I... well, we exorcised some of the demons, but I was knocked out, and when I came to, I thought Josie had exorcised Abaddon.”
“Instead... she was possessed.”
Henry nodded sadly. “I don’t even know how Abaddon got in the door that night. That club was warded from foundation to rafters.”
“I doubt it, or she wouldn’t have.”
“Or maybe we just didn’t have the right wards. The Knights of Hell were supposed to have been slaughtered by the archangels.”
Bobby nodded. “And clearly your intel was faulty.”
“That wasn’t all we didn’t know. The elders tried to exorcise Josie, and... it didn’t work.”
“And yet, you escaped.”
“Larry shoved something into my hand, told me not to let her get it, and... I panicked. I didn’t know another way out. So I jumped.”
“Do you still have it?”
Henry nodded and pulled the box out of his pocket.
“May I see?”
Henry handed it to him. “You seem like a wise man. Maybe you can figure it out.”
Bobby turned it over a few times. “It’s a puzzle box.”
Henry frowned. “Can you open it?”
A few more times. “Yes, I can.” Bobby went to the door. “John? Come here!”
A moment later, John walked in. “What’s up?”
“This is what your dad brought through time. It’s a puzzle box and I’m about to open it.”
John nodded. “You’ve always been better at that kind of thing than me.”
Bobby turned it over and made it click—and the side fell off. A key fell into his hand
“Huh,” Henry and John chorused.
“So if we have a key,” John added, “where the hell is the lock?”
“That’s why I came to find you,” Bobby told Henry. “I think one man survived that night.”
Henry straightened. “That’s the first good news I’ve had all day. Who is it?”
“Larry Ganem.”
John frowned. “Isn’t that who....”
“Gave me the key,” Henry replied and nodded. “If anyone knows what it is, he will.”
“So let’s find him.”
“Rufus is workin’ on it,” Bobby said.
John grinned. “That man could track a polar bear in an Arctic snowstorm.”
Bobby chuckled.
As if on cue, Bobby’s pants rang. He pulled a tiny box out of his pocket, pushed a button, and held it to his ear. “Hello? Hey, Rufus. Whatcha got?” His eyes went wide and he turned to the Winchesters. “He found him.”
Henry stood. “Where?”
“Lebanon, Kansas?” Bobby repeated after a moment. “You got an address?” He went to the desk and wrote on a notepad. “Got it. Thanks, Rufus—oh, and if you see Walker, tell him to stick to vampires, will you? He’s got some burr under his saddle about Sam.... Nah, Charlie gave him a chest full o’ rock salt to remember us by.” He laughed and hung up. “Rufus says he’s going to open a can of whoop-ass on Walker for his early Hanukkah present.”
John laughed. “Hope he feeds ’im to a wendigo.”
“And remembers to tape it.”
Henry decided not to ask. “Lebanon, Kansas, you said?”
“Yeah.” John turned to him. “That mean somethin’?”
Henry shook his head. “No, other than it being the center of the country and a long way from Normal. Can’t imagine why Larry would go to ground there.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “With the Letters’ love of symbolism? The exact center of the country?”
Henry blinked. “You’re right. Maybe whatever the key fits is there.”
“Soon as the kids get back from class, we’ll let them know we’re heading out and give them the chance to come,” John said.
Bobby nodded. “Meantime, you wanna take your dad to Walmart, get him some clothes and a shaving kit?”
“Think he’ll have to have a demotion.” John looked at him. “Feel like bein’ my little brother out in public?”
Henry swallowed hard. “I suppose that’s better than a full role reversal.”
John nodded.
Henry took a deep breath and let it out again. “All right. Let’s go, s-John.”