Chapter Text
No ordinary men, these two brothers have been at the center of nothing less than an apocalypse, so when they walked into a nondescript diner in a nondescript backwoods town of the USA, it would come as no surprise to anyone who knew a little of their history that they would meet up with the unknown.
In this case, it would turn out to be an unknown guy; unknown but very important for the lives of the two boys, for without his contribution, Sam and Dean would never have been born.
"Dean, we stopped two hours ago to eat. You shoveled a ton of food into that bottomless pit you call a stomach! How can you be hungry again so soon?"
"Oh, come on, Sam! I didn't eat all that much. I can feel my energy levels going down. You wouldn't want me to collapse while I'm driving my Baby now, would you?"
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "There's no danger of that, Dean. What there is, though, is that you're gonna have a heart attack before you're forty if you carry on like this!"
"No big, Sammy. It's not as if we don't know what's waiting for us on the other side. Forewarned is forearmed! Anyway, the next fugly we meet could do the job before the cholesterol gets to me!"
"Dean…!"
"What, Sam? It's the reality of our lives. Does my baby brother not want to be left on his own? You could always go back to school or become a hippie or something. The world would be your oyster!" Dean finished off theatrically, arms spread wide as if to encompass it all.
Sam huffed. "You know what? Just shut up! Instead of talking, go and fill up that mouth of yours with burgers or whatever!"
"Aww, Sammy's pissed," Dean smirked.
"Yeah, I've got an idiot for a brother," Sam replied, his face scrunched up in distaste.
"Come on, Sam. I was only kidding. If anything happens to me, I know what you really want to do: go and be a manager at Plucky's. You just love those clowns!"
"You're lucky we're in a public place; otherwise, you'd be begging for mercy by this time," Sam bitched.
"Oh, right! You and what army, Sam? There's nothing you could do to me that would make me beg."
"Oh no?"
"No!"
"I'm bigger than you, and I know how tickly your feet are. You'd be begging for mercy in ten seconds," Sam declared, a threatening scowl on his face.
"No, I wouldn't!" Dean retorted, his bravado faltering a little. "I don't have tickly feet!"
Sam flashed him a knowing little brother smile that said it all. Dean did have terribly tickly feet, and he had pleaded for mercy before!
The elder Winchester decided that retreat was the better part of valor in this case, and he held up his hands in pacification.
"Why don't we call an end to this little pissing contest, Sam? Let's eat."
"Whatever you want, Dean," Sam smirked, satisfied that this round had gone to him!
They sat down at a corner table, backs to the wall, the door easily visible. It was always better to be prepared.
Dean remembered the diner where Sam had disappeared just before Cold Oak.
Eating places were no guarantee of safety. The Winchesters were trouble magnets wherever they went. That was the truth, plain and simple.
Dean was chomping happily on his burger, contemplating the slices of pie that were soon to follow, not in the least bothered by Sam's bitchface as he looked on in distaste at his elder brother's bad eating habits, when a young man burst in through the door.
As though prodded by some invisible finger, the two brothers glanced up simultaneously at the newcomer, then at each other, for they both recognized the expression on his face; it was that of pure terror.
Dean cocked an eyebrow, which Sam acknowledged with a tilt of his head.
The guy was clearly in trouble, and whether the cause was supernatural or not, the Winchesters would give him a helping hand.
They continued to watch as the man pushed himself into a corner, keeping his eyes glued to the windows as if hiding from someone.
"What do you think, Sam? Does this guy give off our kind of vibes or not?" Dean murmured.
Sam curved his lips in an upside-down smile. "Maybe Dean. I feel there's something weird about him."
"Let's go then, Robin!" Dean declared as he pushed the last piece of pie into his already bulging cheeks, giving Sam an unwanted view of the contents of his mouth.
"Dean, close your mouth when you're chewing, Dude. And I'm not Robin. He's the short guy!"
"Come on," Dean urged. "While you're bitching the guy's skipping out."
In fact, the stranger must have decided that the diner wasn't safe anymore, as he took a last look through the windows and dashed out into the street again
By the time the boys got outside, he could be seen running down the street.
However, it wasn't long before he found himself with a Winchester planted on either side of him.
"You okay, Dude?" Dean asked in his most reassuring voice.
"Back at the diner, it seemed as if all the devils in Hell were on your tail."
The man studied first one, then the other of his unrequested escorts, and he decided that, despite their friendly concern, these two were dangerous men.
He wasn't about to fall out of the frying pan and into the fire.
"No…Yes...! I'm fine. You know I must just have had a little too much to drink last night, I'm a little muddled," he ventured.
"Yeah. I know how that feels," Dean answered truthfully.
"We can give you a hand to get home," the taller one said earnestly, his eyes honest and concerned.
"Thanks, but… "
The man's face took on a terrified expression as he glanced back over Dean's shoulder, where a female figure was steadily approaching.
He turned on his tail and ran, leaving the Winchesters looking on bewildered, until everything became exceptionally clear.
The woman's eyes turned momentarily black.
"Dean...demon!"
"Come on, Sam. She must be after the guy. Let's get him. We can deal with her later once we know why she wants him."
Before long, the man found himself pushed into the back seat of a black Impala with the taller of the two men holding on to him tighter than a vise.
"What the Hell do you two want from me? Who are you? If this is a robbery, I haven't got a penny on me," he complained, trying to shake himself free of Sam's grasp.
"Listen, we don't want to hurt you, but you were being chased by something that we know a little bit about," Sam said, trying to calm him down.
"You don't know anything about me, and I'm not sure I know anything about myself either.
A couple of hours ago, I was on my way home from work, then I found myself here…whenever here is…with a friggin' black-eyed woman on my tail!" he replied, his voice hitching in panic.
"What do you mean… whenever here is?" Dean asked, confused.
"I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole. It's as if I'm out of time. As if I've been thrown into the future," the stranger answered, his eyes misting up.
Sam and Dean exchanged exasperated glances. Time travel? It sucked!
"What year did you think you came from?" Sam asked in a soothing voice. There was no point in spooking the guy even further.
"Nineteen fifty-one."
"We believe you," Sam said consolingly. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?"
"There's nothing much to tell. I was walking home when I felt a pull, as if an earthquake had rocked me. Then I saw this woman with black eyes staring at me like I was some juicy delicacy, so I ran."
"Well," Dean said. “You were one lucky son of a bitch to get away, let me tell you."
"She just laughed as I panicked, saying that she enjoyed the hunt better when the prey gave her a run for its money."
"Okay. That means she's going to come for you again, so we have to send her ass back to Hell."
"Back to Hell. Are you two insane?"
"Afraid not," Sam answered. "She's a demon, and if you want her off your back, sending her back to Hell is the only choice."
"Well, that or getting up real close and plunging a knife into her," Dean added.
The man lay back on the seat, the fight seemingly gone out of him.
"You got a name, Dude?" Dean asked.
"Sure, " he replied despondently. "The name's Henry, Henry Winchester."
Dean's foot on the brakes nearly sent the occupants of the back seat headlong into the front.
He turned to stare at the man, and he saw Sam's face turning pale as he took in the implications of what had just been said.
Dean cleared his throat. "Henry Winchester? And you live where?"
"What difference does it make? But if you must know, I'm from Lawrence, Kansas."
Dean dragged his teeth over his lower lip. He glanced at Sam for moral support, but Sam only turned his eyes heavenward, as taken aback as Dean.
John had never talked about his father except on rare occasions, though they both knew that his name had been Henry and that he had lived in Lawrence.
The brothers exchanged glances, engaging in silent eye-conversation.
'We'd better find a motel and lock the guy down.'
'Right, Dean. We gotta work out just what the demon wants from him.'
Dean nodded and pressed down on the gas.
A couple of hours later, he stopped at an out-of-the-way motel, and they bundled "Henry" inside.
"Dean, what the hell!" Sam whispered, nodding over at the man who had fallen asleep almost instantaneously as soon as he sat down on one of the beds.
"Sam, don't get me started! I've had enough of grandfathers to last me a lifetime.
That douche-bag Samuel was more than plenty for me. Now we end up with another one. Are we gonna have to meet them all the way back to friggin Adam and Eve!"
Sam sighed tiredly. He was as exasperated as Dean.
TBC