Title: In Spite of All the Danger
By: blazoningpen
Rating: R for language, mostly PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, OMC with appearances by Castiel and Ruby (in later chapters)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None so far. It's set late season 4 so there will possibly be eventual mentions of what's gone on before
Disclaimer: If you recognize the character, it's not mine
Summary: The brothers, in the course of a simple salt and burn, meet up with a stranger who conveniently needs to be rescued.
A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic so please be kind. I'm a little nervous regarding its reception. This entry is edited with input from my beta just_ruth

He tried to get leverage on the thing that had its hand on his throat. It still amazed him that something so insubstantial could have such a grip. He had done the research and had come properly armed, but again ended up on the wrong side of the confrontation. He spared a quick glance to his right and saw the iron rod just out of reach. He stretched his arm out and his fingertips just brushed the metal. The spirit growled and he returned his attention to staying alive.

“Hey, asshole!”

He then heard the blast of a shotgun and the pressure was gone. He looked up at a younger face as a man with short dark hair gave him a hand up and he grabbed the rod. “Thanks.”

“Thank me after we gank this bitch.”

He saw the spirit materialize behind the other man and took a swing at it with the iron, dispersing it again. “I think we’ve made it angry.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said the newcomer as he shot the spirit again. “Sam!” he yelled. “Any time now!”

Moments after the spirit appeared yet again, it seemed to burst into flames and disappear. “Wow, that was…something.” He’d never seen anything quite like it before.

“Are you nuts? Why are you doing this alone? This spirit’s been dangerous for years! It took me and Sam days to find out where she was buried.”

While he was yelling, a taller, more muscular man entered the house, snow dotting his shoulders and hair as well as caked on his boots. “Dude, what’s going on? Who’re you yelling at?”

“This crazy limey thought he could take of Dear Prudence alone.”

“Like you never did anything like that?” The second man turned to him. “I’m Sam and this jerk is my brother Dean.”

“Alan. Let me say thanks by buying you a beer. My throat’s a little sore.”

Dean shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no.”

“I’ve never known you to.” Sam looked at Alan. “Thanks.”

“’Kay. Let’s go, Sammy.” Dean headed for the door.

Alan walked with Sam to the porch. “I’ll meet you guys at Kelly’s. No relation, but I feel I have to patronize. My transport’s over that way.” He waved his hand toward the back of the house.

“Don’t take too long or we’ll run the tab up!” called Dean from the driver’s side of a dark, classic muscle car.

“I’ll try not to even though I believe you’d do it to teach me a lesson.”

Dean only gave him a cocky grin as he got into the car. Sam opened the passenger door and got in, folding his tall frame into the seat. Once they started towards the road, Alan left the porch.

***

Sam glanced over at Dean who looked pensive—and pissed. “What’s up? First you’re laying into this guy and now you want to drink with him?”

“Keep your enemies closer.”

“Enemies? When did he become an enemy?”

“He is until we learn he isn’t. I don’t trust this guy, Sam. It’s like this was set up so he could meet us.”

“Yeah, being choked by a spirit is the ideal introduction.”

“Then you had to go and give him our names—our real names.”

“As I recall, you yelled for me first.” Sam looked back at the house and Alan was nowhere to be seen. “I wonder how he got here. There are no other cars around and I didn’t see any tracks in the snow.”

“I know. That’s another reason I don’t like this.”

Dean pulled up in front of the bar and switched off the engine. “We just run the usual tests and see what happens.”

Sam followed him to the trunk and watched as he took out a flask of holy water and real silverware. “Well, we know he’s immune to iron, so that’s something. What if he’s just another hunter like us?”

“He’s not a hunter like us.” Dean shook his head. “If need be, we can call Cas.”

“Do you think he’ll be able to help? He doesn’t have his hotline anymore and his mojo’s running low.”

“He might be able to point us in the right direction, at least.” He poured some of the holy water into the beer, enough to be effective without ruining the taste.

“How are you going to test silver? ‘Accidentally’ stab him?”

Dean looked at him as if he were seriously considering it.

“Dean.”

“What if I just kinda…nick his arm?”

“You can’t do that. I’ve got a better idea that doesn’t involve bloodletting. Your ring is silver, so just find an excuse to get him to touch it.”

“You want me to hold hands with a potential nutjob? C’mon, Sam.” He took a swig from his beer.

Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Maybe you could shake hands at some point, if you can bring yourself to be polite.”

“Whatever. Here he comes.”

Alan entered the bar and headed straight for the booth and slipped in opposite them. “Hey,” he said in his British accent.

“Hey,” the brothers responded.

Alan picked up the beer and checked the label. “Good choice.” He took a good long drink.

Sam and Dean relaxed when there was no reaction to the holy water.

“Ugh! Do they water this stuff down?”

“Mine’s fine,” said Dean. “Maybe we should’ve waited to open the bottle. God only knows what could’ve gotten into it.”

“Right.” Alan took another sip. “So, thanks again for the rescue.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same,” Sam got in before Dean swallowed his beer.

“If the positions were reversed, yeah, I guess I would.” He grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the table. “I’ll admit I was in over my head. How long have you guys been doing this stuff?”

“We were raised in it,” Dean answered. “Take my advice and get out of it. It’s not the kind of life you want.”

“Sorta realized that when the thing had its hands around my throat.” He reached his free hand up to his neck. “I think I’ll be heading back home after this.”

“And where’s that?” Dean asked as if he were truly interested.

“Right now, an apartment in Greenwich Village. My main residence is a suburb of London.”

“What brought you here? I thought there were more than enough spirits in the UK.”

“There are probably more hunters than supernatural creatures in Britain at this point. I thought, ‘brave new world, why not give it a go’ and here I am.” He saluted them with his beer and finished the bottle. “I think I will be calling it a night, gentlemen. I’ll pay for this round on my way out.”

Sam reached out and shook Alan’s hand. Dean followed suit, making sure the ring had prolonged contact. No adverse reaction.

Alan smiled as he stood. “Now that I’ve passed your tests, why don’t we meet up in my room at the B&B down the street? Top floor on your right to the back.” He headed to the door, paid as promised, and then left the building.

A photo tour ot the Town of Torrington
Someone's blog about the bar they go to
Someone's blog about the bar they go to but this one says it might be haunted
Alan's hotel

***

Dean did not like where this was going at all. Could this guy have been playing them all along? Was there a way for him to overcome the effects of the tests? He finished his second beer—it was paid for after all—and headed for the door. Sam followed without saying a word.

He opened the door to the Connecticut winter and hustled down the street to the Heritage Inn. They knocked the caked snow off their boots before stepping into the entry hall of the century-old building. Sam looked about at the architecture as if trying to narrow down the exact year. Dean wiped his boots on the stiff-bristled mat before heading up the stairs, determined to find out the truth.

“Dean, don’t do anything stupid, okay? We need to find out what he knows before we do anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a complete idiot. Don’t say anything,” he said, pointing his finger at his brother as soon as he realized what he said. He was sure he heard Sam snicker anyway.

They stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to the right. He could see a sliver of light under the door and heard a Beatles song as they got closer. At least he has decent taste in music. He raised his hand to knock.

“C’mon in, guys. Thought it was you stomping down the hall.”

Sam pushed open the door and they saw a neat room that looked like a comfortable bedroom instead of the dinky motel rooms that they were so used to. It put him in mind of the last time he and Sam were in this neck of the woods; the Pierpont Inn. His eye went straight to the nightstand and he saw the butt of a gun in the partially open drawer. This guy was definitely holding back.

“’The clouds will be a daisy chain, so let me see you smile again’,” came John Lennon’s voice over the iPod speakers set up on the bureau. “’Dear Prudence won't you let me see you smile?’”

“Dude, really?”

“You planted the song in my head and I had to play it. Now that you know I’m not a supernatural creature out to get you, sit and relax and I’ll fill you in on my part of the story.” Alan motioned for them to sit.

Dean took the bed and Sam sat in the chair by the desk. “OK, you’re not a supernatural creature and you’re certainly no hunter, so how do you know about it all?” Sam asked.

“I know I don’t have to ask you to suspend your disbelief considering what you do, but wait till I finish.” Alan leaned forward in his chair. “I’ll start with the truth: yes, I was there for the purpose of meeting you, but not for the reason you think.”

Dean clenched his jaw. He so wanted to punch this guy but knew Sam was right, they needed more information. “Sorry if I don’t trust you after that ‘honest’ statement, but Sammy and me have been getting jerked around by demons, angels and people they’ve used. Pick your next words carefully.”

There was a sound of rushing wind and Cas was there.

“Dean, I need to speak with you.”

“Cas?”

“I have received word of another seal. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cas, this is Alan Kelly,” Sam said. “Alan, this is Castiel, he’s, um…”

“An angel of the Lord,” Cas supplied.

Dean had to give Alan credit as the man didn’t freak out with the sudden appearance of Castiel or even his declaration of being an angel. “Cas, he was waiting for us at the house…” He noticed Cas wasn’t paying attention to him but staring at Alan.

Castiel tilted his head. “You’re not from here, from now.”

“Cas, meeting us was no accident,” said Sam.

“He’s a good man,” Castiel stated.

Dean knew that Cas didn’t lie about anything—he didn’t know how. If he said Alan was a good man, it was literally the God’s honest truth.

“What do you mean ‘not from now’?” Sam always needed to know the details. It was one of the things Dean liked about hunting with his brother—not that he was ever going to tell him.

“He is from the future.”

Alan looked at the brothers. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. My name is Alan Kelly and I was born in 2243.”

“And of all the places you could’ve traveled, you came here?”

“If you’re from the future, that means we stop the Apocalypse.” Sam’s eyes lit up with a hope that Dean hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Not necessarily,” Alan remarked. “There are some things that can’t be changed no matter how you try and then there are those that can be by the slightest thing. I believe this is one of the latter points.”

“Cas told me it was impossible to change my destiny. How is this any different?”

“Your parents getting together, your mother making the deal, that is what made you and Sam what you are, what created and shaped you. That had to happen. This, stopping the seals and preventing Lucifer from rising, this is your test. This is where the outcome can change. That is why Alan is here to help you stop the next seal.”

“What?” the three humans demanded in unison.


***

Alan was stunned by the angel’s words. And Castiel certainly did not look like how angels were generally depicted, with the disheveled Columbo look. I’m meant to be here? This was part of some overall Heavenly plan? And I thought the idea had been mine.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean said. “What do you mean Alan’s here to help us? He can’t even hold his own against a spirit. What will he do when faced with a demon?”

“It was part of the act to befriend you,” Alan explained. “It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it did, though.”

“Alan is meant to be here. The prophesy states that the past will come to the present and the future will help banish it.”

“And for those of us to don’t speak Cryptic?” Dean crossed his arms

“Well, Alan is obviously the future part of the equation,” started Sam.

“Yeah, I got that part. We’re the present so who represents the past?”

“Give me a break, Dean. I’m still trying to work it out.” Sam walked to the window that overlooked the street. Something out there must have sparked something in his mind. “Spirits,” he said slowly. “Spirits from the past are being raised.”

“Oh, like that explains everything.”

“Dean, keep your voice down, please,” Alan told him. “We don't need to attract any attention.”

Dean glared at him but lowered his voice to a more normal level. “OK, Sammy, how do we narrow down the spirits?”

“Well, my guess is that they’d be in this general area or why else would Alan appear here and not somewhere else.”

“What do you think, Cas?” Dean looked around but the angel was gone. “I hate when he does that!”

“It happens often?” Alan asked Sam.

“Yeah, pretty much all the time. I’m gonna run down to the car and get my laptop to see what we can learn about local history.”

“In the morning we can hit the library over in Washington because they have a special archive room with church records and the like dating to the 1800s,” Alan told them. “It might fill in some of the gaps in the research.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean sat back on the bed as Sam left. “So, the future, hunh?”

“Yes, and don’t ask me to tell you what happens because that’s a major no-no.”

Some Glenn Miller started on the iPod and Dean made a face. “Really? You listen to this stuff?”

“Not manly enough for you, Dean?”

“You can’t rock out to it.”

“You can with the right song. Women love the stuff.” He grinned.

“Old ladies and soccer moms and probably not even hot ones.” His eye moved to the nightstand and Alan knew he had seen the gun.

“If we have time when this is over, I will prove you wrong. Yes, that’s mine. You can hold it if you want.”

Dean looked at him as if he were unused to an offer from a near-stranger. He took the gun out reverently and checked the chambers first before inspecting it thoroughly. “It’s a Colt Peacemaker and in remarkable condition. What year?”

“1887.” At least that was the year when I got it.

Dean aimed it at the door and looked along the barrel just as the door opened and Sam entered. “Christ, Dean!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.” He loaded the revolver and put it back in the drawer. “You must have some cool pieces.”

“I do have a nice collection, yeah.”

“Collection?” Sam questioned as he plugged in the laptop and turned it on. “What does it include?”

“Swords, guns, even bows and arrows.”

“A real Robin Hood, eh?”

“Upon occasion. So I do know how to defend myself—and others. No, don’t deny it, I know that’s what you were thinking.” Dean looked at him as if to pursue that line of inquiry. “Any luck, Sam?” he changed the topic.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”

Alan could see his eyes scanning the search pages. “Is there a special type of spirit that would be raised for such a thing?”

“Usually an innocent,” said Dean from his reclined position on the bed, “but this might be something different.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is a seal we’re talking about so it might be something…more.”

Sam made a sudden exclamation and began to click away at the keyboard. “OK, this might be something. There was a woman in 1796 that did charitable works throughout the town and no one had a bad word to say about her, that is, until she stabbed and killed her husband for no apparent reason.”

“Possession?” asked Dean.

“Possibly, but that’s not the interesting bit. Her name was Prudence Malloy.”

“Wait a second. She’s been around for years, how can she be a part of this?” Dean kicked off his shoes and leaned back against the headboard.

“Go on, make yourself comfortable,” Alan said, the sarcasm lost in the moment.

“No idea. Maybe they felt that no one would realize she was part of a seal, being around that long.” Sam stretched in the chair.

“It would also increase the chances of her being put down.” Dean rubbed a hand through his hair.

“There must be a backup,” Alan said. “There has to be. Your friend Castiel told you about the seal after you took care of Prudence.”

“Great. That just increased the number of women I have to look for.”

“Are there really that many murdering colonial spinsters?”

“That’s just it, Dean, they weren’t all spinsters. I’m thinking that a large chunk of them were abused and just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Those long New England winters must’ve been killer without decent TV.”

Sam groaned at his choice of words.

Dean took it as a yawn. “Why don’t you get some shut-eye and let me do the looking.”

“And have you load the bookmarks with porn sites? I don’t think so.”

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the banter. It reminded him of the exchanges with his own brother. “I guess I’d better get some coffee.”

***

Later the next morning, Sam directed Dean to the Gunn Memorial Library in Washington. With Zeppelin playing in the background, Dean began to question Alan about the future. Sam took the time to study the man. Alan was close to 40 with light brown hair that was a little longer than Dean’s and green eyes. He was close to 6-foot with a lean athletic build which meant he kept in shape. There was something about Alan that was familiar, but he wasn’t sure what. The idea that Alan had been chose by God to help them was really tough to wrap his head around. The fact that Cas gave his approval leant credence to his story. For Dean, all it took was bonding over weapons. For him, the jury was still out.

“Of course you know I can’t tell you too much to keep from influencing your choices.”

“But we’re out in space and all, like Trek?”

“Yeah, kinda like that.”

The road evened out at a snow-covered green. The white historical buildings situated around it made a picture postcard of a New England winter. In his mind he reeled off some of the architectural styles he remembered from a distant art history course, the same one he used to sweet talk Sarah Blake: Colonial, Colonial Revival and Federal.

“Sammy, c’mon, we’re here.”

Sam realized they were in the small parking lot next to the library and Alan was already at the entrance. “Yeah.” He got out of the car and followed Dean inside.

Alan was waiting for them, unwinding his scarf. “The room we want is climate controlled, so don’t keep opening the door, okay?”

“I’d better go hit the head, then.”

“We’ll be right upstairs.” Sam would’ve taken the stairs two at a time if they hadn’t been in a library. Instead, he jogged up.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” came Alan’s voice behind him.

“What did you say?”

“You must really enjoy this by the way you’re diving into the books.”

Sam stopped at the door. “I do. When I was a kid and too young to hunt, researching made me feel like I was helping.”

Dean joined them. “Okay, let’s get started.”

Sam entered the room and took a deep breath. He so loved the smell of old books and found it soothing. No one else was in the room so they’d be able to speak openly. “Okay,” he said as he set his laptop on the table provided, “we should concentrate on women, mainly from the late 18th century, who lived here in Litchfield County.”

Alan scanned the shelves, trying to locate the section they needed. “This is what we want.”

Sam joined him and helped sift through the material as Dean just leaned back in one of the chairs, feet on the table. “C’mon, Dean, we need you to be serious about this.”

Dean put his feet back on the floor. “I can do research, Professor. I did it while you were off geeking at Stanford. I just don’t get off on it like you do.”

Sam didn’t want to argue so just buried himself in the books.

He leaned back from the pile of books in front of him and realized he was alone. When had the others left? He looked at the list he had typed into the laptop. Some of the names were the same but most were new. This was not making the search any easier. With a sigh, he put the books away and slipped the computer back into its case before leaving the room. He nodded to the woman at the circulation desk before stepping outside. The Impala was there, empty. He took out his cell and called Dean. “Hey, where did you go?”

“We’re at a coffee shop right across the Green.”

“‘The Green’?” He never thought he’d hear those words from his brother’s mouth.

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Okay, I see it. I’ll be right there. Order me a cup.” Sam ended the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket as he walked over to the aptly named Crossroads Café.

Alan and Dean were sitting at a table by the window and Dean was laughing. He slipped onto the chair next to Dean. “What’s so funny?”

“Alan was telling me some of the pranks he used to get up to. Our stuff is mild compared to it.”

“You could’ve at least told me you were leaving.” Sam sipped the still steaming coffee.

“We did,” said Dean. “You just didn’t hear us.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I was just beginning to get a little restless,” Alan confessed. “Dean agreed to come with me.”

Sam had a feeling it was more the other way around. “Anyway, according to the names, we’ve narrowed it down to seven different locations throughout the county and at least three different women at each general area.”

“I think we’d better wait and continue this conversation in a better location,” said Alan.

Sam noticed that they were getting a few stares. “Okay, I’ll fill you in once we get back to the hotel.”

“There’s gonna be a slight detour,” Dean said with a crooked grin. “Burgers and pie.”

“Of course.” Sam drank his coffee and chuckled at how easily his brother could be bought with the promise of food.

General site about the town of Washington with a picture of the library and church on the Green
Google Maps of the area

***

Dean sighed in near ecstasy as he took another bite of the restaurant’s signature burger. It was a bit more high-end than he normally would have—with bacon and blue cheese sauce on some fancy roll—but it was worth it. This definitely surpassed Providence. Sam had tucked into his salad and was talking with Alan who was having fish and chips. “A little taste of home,” he called it.

He nearly choked at the story Alan was telling. “Hold on a second, you fought with pirates?”

“Yeah, that was early on. It was after Bosworth but before Lexington.”

“You were at Lexington? What about Concord?” questioned Sam.

Oh, Sammy boy was in geek heaven with this topic. At least it had taken his mind off the hunt for a little bit. “So, how did you get into the time travel gig?”

“I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version. My best friend invented this machine and called me over. He also called a man named Cameron James, an arms dealer who used philanthropy as a cover. James and I fought and I got sent back to Bosworth Field in 1458. I made it home to find my best friend dead and I’m the prime suspect.”

“I know the feeling,” Dean commented around his fries.

“After a few…stops, I went home and learned the whole thing was a sting. My name was cleared and I was reinstated with a promotion.” He drank his beer.

“You’re military?” Sam looked at Dean nervously.

“Colonel. And, if you look at this logically, I have no jurisdiction of any sort considering I’m not even born for another 200 years. Besides, I’m here to help, remember?”

“Sorry, habit,” Dean said a little sheepishly.

“As long as you remember that, we’ll be fine.” Alan finished the last of his lunch. “Now, how about dessert?”

“Now you’re talking.” Dean swallowed the last of his beer and grabbed the dessert menu. There were only three kinds of pie. “I want to try this banoffi.”

Sam took the menu. “Banana, Dean? I would’ve thought you’d take the pecan with the scotch.”

“I thought I’d veer from the predictable.” He loved it when he could surprise Sam.

Later, content with a full stomach and happy behind the wheel of his baby, Dean drummed away to AC/DC. Checking the rearview mirror, he could tell Alan wasn’t a fan of the music. “Don’t like it?”

“I like more of a variety. Too much of the same and you fall into a rut.”

“I’ve got a variety. There’s AC/DC, Metallica, Zeppelin…”

“Same style, though. I think you need to branch out a bit more.”

“Sorry I asked.”

Sam laughed.

Dean pulled into the hotel parking lot. It was a bit better than their usual stop, but still not even two-star. He heard rustling as Sam gathered his papers together. The kid seemed to thrive with books and papers. “C’mon, Sammy, show us what you found.”

Sam muttered something which was probably along the lines of ‘my name is Sam’. Dean unlocked the door to their room, slipped off his jacket and tossed it on his bed, the one by the door. Alan paused at the door and Dean knew he was gauging the room for defense. Now he could see the military in him. If he really knew how to hunt, he’d be a great ally.

Sam came in last and set his stuff on the foot of the other bed. “I have a theory but we need to get more from Cas before I can say for sure.”

For some reason, Castiel seemed to answer when he called more so than Sam. Maybe it was the whole demon blood thing, he wasn’t sure. “Hey, Cas, get your butt down here!” he yelled at the ceiling. “We need some answers!”

“Why are you not out stopping the seal?” demanded Cas upon his arrival. “We do not have much time.”

“You never said there was a clock ticking down.” Dean glared at him. “You never said a lot of things.”

“Dean, you know I cannot--”

“If you know something that will help us stop this thing, you have to tell us since you got us this gig.”

“Castiel,” Alan broke in, “what can you tell us? We can’t do what you want of us unless we know the full story.”

Dean didn’t appreciate the interruption of an outsider even if it did steer them back on track. He absently rubbed the mark on his upper left arm where Castiel had grabbed him and “raised him from Perdition”. It always seemed to act up when he though of…what happened, which seemed to be quite often now. At least the nightmares had stopped coming every night. He didn’t know if it had to do with telling Sam, confronting Alastair or even resigning himself to this whole deal with the angels. He knew he still had a long way to go, and he knew it would never completely leave him, but he was beginning to come to terms with it.

“’The raising of the once-righteous shall bring about the abominable’,” Cas quoted.

Hell, that could be me and Sammy; the Righteous Man and his brother, the Abomination. He took a deep breath to banish thoughts from his mind that didn’t have to do with the hunt at hand. “So, kinda what happened with Samhain, with the sacrifice? We stopped him.”

“The seal was still broken,” Sam reminded softly.

Yeah, wasn’t trying to think on that. “So, we can handle this, right?”

“I hope so. This will be much harder to prevent. What will be raised is not named.”

“It can’t be that bad if he doesn’t have a name.”

“Dean, in early civilizations, the names of powerful beings were never said for fear of drawing their attention.” Sam sounded apologetic.

“Crap!”

The place they go for lunch

***

If Alan hadn’t already been sitting, he would have fallen into the chair. This was going to be bigger than Samhain? He remembered the story; it had been a favorite to recall growing up. But now, this story never made it into even the Apocrypha. He was just as much in the dark about this as they were.

“Wait, I’ve got it.” Sam pulled out a county map they had picked up after lunch. “There are seven towns that kept coming up.” He marked them in red. He then connected them in a weird pattern that looked like a seven-pointed star. He looked straight at Castiel when he was done.

“This is not good,” the angel said with what Alan thought was a tinge of fear in his voice.

“What is it?” Dean asked as he sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the map.

“The Seal of Babalon,” his brother answered.

“The Mother of Abominations.” Castiel was thoughtful. “She would fit the prophecy.”

Wait a minute, they don’t confront the Whore of Babylon until later, after Lucifer. “Is this the same as the Whore of Babylon?” Alan needed to know.

“It could be,” Sam replied. “The seal as well as the spelling with a second ‘a’ instead of a ‘y’ is due to Alistair Crowley, an English mystic and occultist who created his own religion. He set her up as a Mother Goddess based on a single passage in Revelations. Whether it’s the same or not, I can’t say.”

Dean looked at the angel. “What do you think, Cas? Is it the same?”

“As Sam said, it is hard to tell the difference. The two are connected, but may only be two aspects of the same being.”

“Oh, that was so not helpful.”

“No matter if it’s with two A’s or a Y, we still need to stop it. If I may offer a plan?”
Dean shrugged.

Alan continued. “Now, we know they lost a point when you got Prudence. Odds are, they’ll need to replace her soon. We just have to salt and burn all but one and then wait for our demon to arrive.”

“And how do we salt and burn five in time, that is if we can even locate them?” demanded Sam.

“You leave the how to me,” Alan said with a smile. “You just locate the remains.”

“You gotta play to your strengths, Sammy.” Dean couldn’t help but smile. “What about me?”

“You and I are going on a little trip.”

“I will try to learn more from the prophecy.” Castiel left.

Dean stood, put on his coat and headed for the door. “C’mon. I’ll even let you pick the music.”

“Wow. I’d take him up on that offer, Alan,” said Sam as he plugged in the laptop. “I don’t think he’s ever done that before.”

“It’s not necessary.” He loved this part. Alan rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder and took him to the one place Dean knew he had backup.

Alan heard the shotgun being pumped and his hands went up in a reassuring position.

“Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing here before I aerate your sorry bodies with iron?” demanded a gruff voice.

“Bobby?” Dean turned slowly.

“Dean?” Bobby Singer lowered the gun. “What the hell are you doin’ here, boy? Heard you and
Sam were in Connecticut.”

“Sam’s still there. We actually stumbled onto a damn seal and we have to burn five bodies by tonight.”

“Sam thinks it could be the raising of Babalon.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow in Alan’s direction as Dean helped himself to a beer. “Who’s this guy?”

“A time traveler from the future. Apparently, he’s supposed to help us.”

Alan held out his hand. “Alan Kelly. An honor to meet you, Mr. Singer.”

“Yeah, sure,” said the older man as he shook Alan’s hand. “How the hell d’ya get here?”

Alan held up his left wrist and pulled back his sleeve to reveal his machine. “This. I just set the coordinates.”

Dean eyed him thoughtfully. “You didn’t have Bobby’s coordinates and I never saw you use that.”

Alan really didn’t want to tell Dean what he could do because of Sam’s…issues, but he also felt bad holding back. “You caught that, huh?” He sighed. “If I concentrate on a person or a place, I can go there.”

“You brought us here with your freakin’ mind?” Dean glared at him. “You didn’t think that was something you should’ve shared with us? You have demon blood in you too?”

Silence reigned as the three men stared at each other, not knowing what to say. Bobby looked a little freaked out about the whole thing. Maybe it was because everything they had seen with abilities turned out a little less than pure. Even Sam had to drink demon blood to build his strength.

Alan decided on the straightforward way. “Have I done anything to show that I’m against you? No. Yes, I have powers that I was born with but didn’t come to until some years ago. My brother has them too, to a varying degree. Look, I didn’t want to tell you because of what you’ve been through with Sam. As far as I know, mine do not derive from demons.”

“What if it does?” said Dean. “What if you’re just a plant and Cas and his buddies interpreted the prophecy wrong?”

“Dean, has Castiel ever been wrong about a seal?” Bobby asked.

“No.” Dean was sullen, the initial fight having drained. “He’s just withheld information.”

“Maybe there’s something else he’s withholding.”Bobby looked in his direction. “Alan, mind if I give you some tests?”

***

Sam had gotten used to the silent comings and goings of Castiel, but it was strange to witness Dean and Alan leave literally in the blink of an eye without angelic assistance. Dean, being Dean, would be able to take care of himself no matter where they ended up.

He returned his attention to the computer. His first attack would be through the court records. Some of the women in question were after the Revolution and might have a better shot of being found. Now, he just had to go to the county site first…

“I haven’t heard from you, Sam. You could give a girl a complex.”

“Ruby, what are you doing here?” He kept his eyes on the screen, refusing to look at her. It didn’t help that he was still aware of her presence, could sense her every move.

“Why do you think I’m here? You can’t just go cold turkey. You need a top-off.”

“No. Dean--”

“He’ll be gone long enough. I waited until they left.” She ran a hand along his arm in a seductive caress. “So, that’s the new guy.”

Sam closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, releasing his breath slowly to control himself with temptation so close. “What do you know about Alan?”

“Just that he’s a new player. He’d pop up on the radar in spurts before disappearing. Rumors are that he could be one of Azazel’s.”

Could he be? Azazel said there were other generations of “special” children. Could he have gone 200 years into the future? “What makes her think that?”

“You just witnessed it yourself, Sam. He took your brother away with a thought.”

“But Cas said he was a good man.”

Ruby scoffed. “Do you believe him after all the angels have done to you, the way they’ve treated you?”

“They brought Dean back…”

“For their own purposes. C’mon, Sam, you know what you have to do to stop Lilith.”

Sam was torn. He knew that Ruby’s blood made him strong enough to finish off demons, yet he remembered that this was what was expected of him, this was what Azazel “created” him for. The worst thing was the revulsion he had seen in Dean’s eyes. “No.”

“You’re making a big mistake.” Ruby stood. “You know how to reach me.”

The moment she left, Sam exhaled and stretched. He had started to hate it when Ruby showed up unexpectedly. He knew she waited until he was alone, but he always felt that Dean would come in and find them. He had to gain control and try to find a way to use his abilities without demon blood.

He tried to concentrate on the task at hand but began to worry about Dean being with Alan. He knew demons never told the full truth, they always held back something—much like angels. Alan seemed to know about them which could be explained by being from the future, but there were certain details—his love of books and research, Dean’s need for burgers and pie—that no one outside family or close friends would know. That wasn’t the stuff a hunter would write in a journal. “But it’s exactly what an author would put in a book.”

He looked at the clock on the laptop and saw that he had lost half an hour. To banish his wayward thoughts, Sam buried himself in the county records once again. This was his strength, like Dean had said. He knew where he stood with archival documents. They didn’t twist words or manipulate, they only gave the facts. Right now, that’s what he wanted, needed.

***

Dean stood in the doorway as Bobby threw together a bag. “You agree with all this?”

“It’s straightforward, logical, “Bobby looked at him, “and simple. I thought you liked it.”

“I’m not simple. I just think there are so many ways it could go wrong.”

“It’s a good plan, Dean. I still don’t trust him, but as long as he’s helping us, I’m okay with that. You’re a pretty good judge of character, so trust your gut.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Dean debated telling Bobby about Alan’s brother but figured it was too personal.

He followed the older hunter down the stairs and into the study where Alan was flipping through one of the many books in Bobby’s collection.

He stood when he saw them coming. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Alan replaced the book on the shelf. “I knew there were lots of books on the subject, but this is amazing.”

“Years of work,” Bobby said roughly, though he did sound a little pleased. “How’re we gonna work this?”

“Have you decided who’s taking care of the fifth body?”

“Jo Harvelle. Bobby’s got a location in Oklahoma.”

“You have coordinates?”

“Can’t you just…” Bobby wiggled his fingers by his head.

“Yeah, I can, but Dean’s gotta use the machine to get to Jo while I take you back to Connecticut.”

The look on Bobby’s face made Dean laugh. “It’s really not so bad, not as disorienting as going with Cas.”

“With such a glowing endorsement, how can I refuse?”

“Coordinates?”

Bobby gave Alan the coordinates he got from Jo’s phone GPS. Dean watched as Alan tapped in more numbers than required for coordinates.

“It’s an override code,” he explained. “Normally only works when I wear it.” He handed it to Dean. “It’ll work for you now.”

Dean carefully strapped the device to his wrist. It reminded him of a very small, thin smart phone. “So I press that one, right?” He pointed to one of the larger buttons.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re good?”

“Fine.”

“Remember, I’ll meet up with you once Bobby’s settled.” Alan looked at the other hunter. “Ready?”

Bobby gripped his bag tightly in his right hand and set his left on Alan’s shoulder. Then they were gone.

Dean looked at the machine on his wrist. He hadn’t seen Jo in almost two years, back when Meg had hijacked Sam. He talked to her a couple times, but only briefly and about work. Seeing her again, especially when needed a favor, was going to be a little tough. He pressed the button.

Upon arrival, he staggered and almost fell against a giant dumpster. He checked the machine and the screen told him he was where he wanted to be and it was a little after 8:00am. He rolled his sleeve down to hide the machine and walked to the mouth of the alley. At the corner was a small diner and Dean’s stomach growled reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. As he reached for the door handle, he spotted her in a corner booth by the window reading a newspaper.

He slipped into the booth across from her. “Hey, Jo.”

“Dean.” She looked up. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Doing research.” He grabbed a piece of toast from her plate. “Bartending again?”

“Gotta pay the bills.” She crossed her arms “Quit the small talk. Why are you here?”

“Got a job that needs another hand and thought you’d want in on it.”

“Wow, Dean Winchester asking for help from a girl.”

“You should be flattered.” He grinned and finished her orange juice.

“Do you want to order something?”

“Don’t have time.” His stomach growled again and he hoped she didn’t hear it. That would totally blow the cool factor he was working. “So?”

“How are you, Dean?” Jo looked at him in a way that reminded Dean of her mother. “After what happened, I mean. It’s enough to give anyone issues.”

“I’m fine!” he said harshly. “Really, I’m fine,” he said normally. “I don’t know why everyone keeps asking.” Though he did know. Ever since he had told what happened down below, everyone had been treating him differently. “You in?”

“You haven’t told me what it is.”

“Salt and burn in five different locations. We need another hand.”

“Five? That’s ambitious, even for you. There’s you, Sam, Bobby, me. Who’s the other? Is it Mom?”

“God, no. She still blames me for you going solo. He’s new, Alan Kelly.”

“I guess I could call out sick for a few days.” Jo smiled. Her eyes then traveled behind him and took on a certain gleam he wished would be directed at him. “He looks a bit lost.”

Dean turned and saw Alan gazing about and lifted a hand to motion him over. With a nod, he joined them at the table. Dean quickly made the introductions.

“A pleasure,” Alan said in that damn accent and Jo practically giggled.

“I’ve always been a sucker for men with accents,” she said flirtatiously.

“It’s a good thing you don’t live in Britain, then. You’d never get anything done.”

Great, now he’s flirting back! “Jo, don’t you need to pack a few things?” He stood and headed for the door.

Jo settled her bill then caught up with him as Alan walked a bit more slowly as if to give them a moment that wasn’t really needed. The sooner they got this thing done, the sooner everything would be fine and back to normal.

***

Alan waited with Dean while Jo grabbed a bag from her bedroom and threw in some items. The apartment didn’t seem to have any personal touches, but, as she was a hunter, she probably wouldn’t be here long. Dean was nosing about the kitchen and soon found a bag of peanut M&Ms which gained a new home in his pocket. Alan smiled.

Jo joined them, bag slung over her shoulder. “OK, I’m ready. Where did you park? I didn’t see the Impala.”

“We came a different way,” Dean said.

Jo raised an eyebrow.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah. You saved my butt more than once,” Jo said.

“Well, it is one of the world’s greatest assets.” He gave her a cocky grin, whatever happened earlier forgotten. “Alan is our transportation. He can get us back to Connecticut in no time. Literally.”

They both looked at him. How could he explain to Jo what he did without her freaking out like Bobby did? “I can teleport,” he blurted out.

“Teleport?”

“I can go places using my mind.”

Jo looked at Dean. “Are you sure he’s not a demon?”

“Sam and I did all the tests and then Bobby did some of his own. He’s human.”

“100%?”

“Yeah, he’s okay. A friend told me he was a good man.”

“Hello? Standing right here.”

Jo ignored him. “So tell me, why the multi? What’s going on? I want some more details before I go with you.”

“You’ve packed your bag, though. Doesn’t that mean you’re already coming?”

“Dean, tell her. She should know what she’s getting into.”

Dean and Jo glared at him and Alan backed away, hands up. Dean knew Alan was right and gave Jo the Readers’ Digest version. “We need to burn five bodies tonight in order to stop a demon from breaking a seal.”

Jo was quiet as she absorbed everything. She seemed to be taking it rather well. Maybe because she knew Dean trusted him as did Bobby—to a degree. “I think we have some graves to dig.”

Alan thought of Sam, using him as an anchor so they’d arrive wherever Sam was. Then they were all crowded into the boys’ hotel room.

“Wow, that was amazing! Hey, Sam, Bobby.” She sat at the bottom of Dean’s bed. “So, who’s gonna fill me in on the details?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Sam looked at his brother.

“I said we were doing a multiple salt and burn and needed the help to stop a seal.” He popped some M&Ms into his mouth.

Jo looked at all of them. “OK, guys, what’s going on?”

Sam and Dean avoided her gaze so Bobby cleared his throat. “A demon is planning to raise Babalon and needs certain spirits to do it.”

“And you know which spirits?”

“Sam figured it out,” Alan said. “He realized the points of the seal rest on certain towns in the county.”

“Yes, but it was Alan’s idea to salt and burn the backups forcing the demon to one spot,” said Sam.

“Did you get the locations?” Dean asked.

“I was stuck with the last two, but Bobby made a few phone calls that got us information that led to the graves.”

“Nothin’ to it. They’re so used to genealogical searches and history students that they give you pretty much anything as long as you know what you’re askin’.”

“Sounded to me like it was the flirting that did it,” said Sam with a smile.

“It wasn’t flirting,” the gruff hunter denied. “It was being polite.”

“Yeah, sure it was. Dean could take lessons.”

“That good, huh?” Dean grinned. “You’ve been keeping secrets, Bobby.”

Alan could see everyone was getting a little punchy. “Let’s get out of this cramped room and get some lunch. I don’t know about the rest of you, but Dean’s hungry. He’s been eating nothing but M&Ms all morning.”

They all tromped out into the light flurry of snow that was just starting to fall. “Oh, this’ll make digging fun,” groused Bobby.

“Something else you’d rather be doing?” Sam questioned.

“Maybe got a hot date with your lady friend at County Records?” teased Dean.

Bobby smacked him on the head. “No, I don’t. You idjits don’t have my bad back.”

Jo looked at Alan as they entered the restaurant. There was no way they were entering that conversation.

They settled in a corner booth. When the server came, they all ordered lunch except for Jo as she had just had breakfast. Sam then pulled out a map and marked the gravesites. “We have to decide which one we’ll leave.”

They switched to history as the meals were served, Alan and Sam doing most of the talking.
Dean pulled the map closer and examined the marks. “Here,” he pointed after the server had gone. “It’s isolated enough that no one’ll get in the way and we won’t have to worry about explaining anything.” He bit into his cheeseburger.

“Sounds good,” agreed Bobby. “No we have to figure out who goes where.”

Jo set down her coffee and eyed the map. “These three look close together. Dean could drop two of us off and take the third.”

“And I can take the other before continuing to mine.”

“I’ll take Jo and Bobby,” Dean announced like he was picking a team in gym class.

For just the briefest second, Alan could see a look of disappointment on Sam’s face. “Great, that gives Sam an opportunity to fill me in on all the embarrassing stories about you as a kid. I’m sure he’s got loads.”

Dean looked at Sam. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Bobby, you’ll have to tell Jo some good ones.”

“I’ll make sure and ask him,” she said with a smile at Dean’s discomfort.

They finished eating and headed back to the hotel to split the provisions. It still amazed Alan that this was what these people did for a living. Until he was at college, Sam knew no other life, just a poor kid looking through the window at a normal family life. Appreciation would come too late.

***

In a way, Sam was glad that Dean picked Jo and Bobby. He would now have a chance to experience the teleportation for himself. It would also allow him to talk with someone with abilities who was well-adjusted.

“Okay, we meet back here,” said Dean. “Any trouble, call. Sam, behave yourself.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Idjits,” Bobby muttered. “It’s time to go.” He hefted his bag and headed outside.

“Be careful,” said Jo as she followed Bobby.

“I’m serious,” Dean said. “Don’t do anything stupid, either of you.”

“That’s your department,” Sam shot back.

“Well, I haven’t cornered the market.”

“We’ll be fine, Dean. I’ve been on a few hair-raising missions before and Sam is no amateur.” Alan sounded pretty confident.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to have to kick your ass if anything goes wrong.”

Sam wasn’t sure if Dean was talking to him or Alan, but he definitely meant it. “You haven’t been able to take me in an equal fight in years!” he called at his brother’s retreating back. He heard Dean’s snort of derision before the door closed. He turned to Alan who had a sad smile on his face. “You okay?”

“Sorry, just thinking about my brother. He’s…ill at the moment.”

“Seriously ill?”

“Possibly fatal. I’m here trying to save him. Dean said he’d help me when we’re done.”

Sam knew that need to save a dying brother. That admission washed away the last of his doubts. “Then I guess we’d better get going.”

He picked up both bags, and, as he reached over to give Alan his, the other man gripped his wrist. The next thing he felt was the biting cold wind on his face. He looked around, stunned. They were in a small graveyard in a clearing set back from the road, the sun fighting the interwoven branches to cast its pale light on the snow. “Holy crap! That was just…amazing! You did that with your mind?”

“Yeah. It’s a relatively new development. And, from what I’ve been told, it’s inherited, not derived from a ‘gift’ of demon blood.” Alan took one of the bags from Sam’s hand. “I’ll be back when I’m done, so please, no frostbite or hypothermia. I don’t need your brother kicking my arse.”

Sam very much doubted that would happen. He also wanted more of a chance to talk. “Y’know, if we worked together, we’d finish both of ours before any of them.” He tried to make it sound less like pleading and more like a challenge.

“I would like to see how the professionals do it.”

Both men set the bags on the ground, removed the shovels and began working on the frozen ground. Sam was silent as he tried to think of a way to start the conversation as it was such a personal topic. He appreciated the fact that Alan worked in silence. Most of the time, Dean would go on about some inane subject because digging was so tedious and he had a very low boredom threshold. He stopped for a breather about ten minutes in and watched Alan as he continued.

“You want something, Sam?” the older man asked as he kept digging.

“If you can move stuff with your mind, why are you using a shovel?”

“Because I don’t have to. My body can manage, so I dig. I feel if I become too dependent on them, my body will become weak.”

“Atrophy.”

“Exactly.” Alan stopped digging. “I was trained how to use most of them, but some I discovered on my own.”

“You had someone to train you?” Sam thought of Ruby’s “training” methods. He resumed digging so Alan wouldn’t see the blush he felt rising.

“Morgan taught me, my brother and our friend.”

“Morgan? Care to elaborate?”

“It might be a bit a bit much for even you to believe.” Alan took a deep breath and began. “As a race, I don’t think they have a name. They have great abilities and age slower than humans. They used to live on the Earth, but then cultures began to change and they felt they no longer had a place so they created their own from where they can travel anywhere in a planet’s history.”

“Any planet?” Alan nodded. “Wow.”

“They had a policy that everyone at some point had to spend a year on the ‘outside’. They could stay in human form or change to an animal. Some didn’t return after their year because they had fallen in love. I’m a descendant from one of those matches.”

“How did Morgan know you had these abilities?”

“She spent her year with us. That’s when she sensed we had the Blood in us. As soon as she could, she brought us to her world and told us the truth.”

Sam was blown away. That was a story he would expect to find in a Star Trek episode. He struck a piece of rotting wood. “Right. We’re here.” He began to scrape the remaining dirt away.

“Sam, I know you asked me to stay ‘cause you wanted to talk so let me say something now and we’ll be done with the subject.”

Sam stopped and looked at him. “Sure,” he said as he climbed out.

“When you moved that dresser to save Dean, you did it on your own, no demon blood needed. You just have to accept that it’s part of you but don’t let it control you.”

“That wasn’t in the books. Chuck told me it made me ‘unsympathetic’.” He reached down and helped Alan out.

“No, he didn’t, but others did. Carver Edlund was just a penname so some authors added books to the series including those moments.” He shrugged. “I’ve read them all, a number of times.” He reached into one of the bags and took out the salt before handing it to Sam. “Just remember it’s part of you, not the other way ‘round.”

Sam was silent as he shook the salt onto the bones and took in what Alan said. He just hoped he had the willpower to fight the temptation next time Ruby showed.

Alan took out the gasoline and poured it into the grave. “Go on and drop the match.”

Sam turned to see Alan holding the matchbox out to him. “Nah, you do it.”

He smiled at the look of disbelief on Alan’s face. “Really?”

“I get to do it all the time. Go on.”

With a wide smile, Alan lit the match and dropped it into the grave and stood back as the flames whooshed up. “That. Was. Cool.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sam picked up his bag. “Let’s move on to Spirit Number Two. I’ll tell you some Dean stories.”

“No need to bribe me.” Alan picked up his bag, set his hand on Sam’s shoulder and they were gone.

***

Dean had frozen his butt off digging up that grave. He had gotten so used to having Sam around that it took longer than he thought. He had picked up Bobby and Jo and drove to the hotel where Sam and Alan were waiting with hot coffee. His brother had simply looked at him and said, “What took you so long?” As Sam rarely got the better of him, Dean had let it go.
Now it was close to 6:30 in the morning and the damn demon hadn’t shown. Cas’s intel must have been wrong. He groaned as he stretched. “I don’t know how cops do all-night stakeouts.”

“They’re usually on a rotation,” said Sam as he kept watch on the small family plot through binoculars. “We can’t.”

“Could be worse,” said Alan from the back. “We could all be in here.”

“That was a good idea, renting a car fro them,” Dean acknowledged.

“I thought it would be better to have them on the other side and I couldn’t make them wait in the cold.” Alan yawned.

“I don’t think this is going to happen,” Sam declared. “It’s getting near dawn.”

“’When lights close their tired eyes’.”

Dean turned in his seat to look at Alan. “’I’ll soon be with you my love’,” he continued.

“’I’ll give you my dawn surprise’,” Alan smiled.

They sang the next few lines together until Sam yelled at them to stop. “What? It’s Cream.”

“I think I see some movement.”

Alan sat forward. “Is it the demon?”

“Who else would be here this early in the morning aside from us?” Dean said as he called Bobby. “Yeah, Sam’s seen movement near the plot.”

“Yeah, Jo spotted something too. Is it time?”

“Nah, wait till we see action at the grave.” He looked at Sam. “Anything?”

“Not yet. Wait, there is someone.”

“Okay, we’ve got company,” Dean told Bobby. “You remember what to do?”

“I ain’t senile.”

“Sorry, Bobby.”

“Me and Jo got you covered.”

“’kay.” Dean shut off the phone and then looked at Sam and Alan. “Showtime.”

They stepped out into the cold and closed the Impala doors as quietly as they could because sound carried out here. The three of them fanned out behind the figure at the grave. Dean could practically smell the brimstone. He pumped his shotgun and aimed it at the demon. Sam and Alan trained their weapons on him as well.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

As Dean worked his way around to face his enemy, he could see the meatsuit was a man, probably not much older than himself. “Well, you’re the one late to the party. We’ve been here all night.”

“You’ve had a busy few days as well. An interesting plan; can’t have been yours.”

Why does no one think I can come with a decent plan?

The demon turned its head. “So you’re the one everybody’s talking about. Don’t see what the fuss is for.”

Dean thought this one was a bit slow if he didn’t know about Sam by now. Apparently, he was a big deal down below, first as a poster boy and then as Hell’s Most Wanted. He then noticed that the demon wasn’t looking at Sam, but Alan. “Why are you interested?” he demanded.

The demon aimed its black eyes at Dean. “A new player is always a topic of discussion, especially when associated with Winchesters.” It returned its gaze to Alan. “You know, when you throw in with this family, you usually end up dead.”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m very unusual,” Alan stated with a self-assured smile. He was handling his first demon encounter pretty well.

“This has nothing to do with you, Soldier Boy. Leave now!” The demon’s voice was cold and menacing instead of the usual soft-sell persuasion. Dean was surprised that it even gave Alan a chance.

“Sorry, no, not leaving.”

The demon shrugged and Dean knew what was coming. “No!”

Alan was flung across the small graveyard and landed on the ground, unconscious.

Sam whipped his head back to the demon after staring at Alan’s prone body. The look was one Dean had never hoped to see again. It was the look he had when he used his powers against Alastair.

“Ooh, look at little Sammy, wanting to use his powers against the Big Bad Demon.” He shuddered and laughed. “You’re not strong enough to stop me, battery’s low. Don’t need you, anyway.” It pinched its left forefinger and thumb together and Sam began gasping for breath.

“Sam!” Dean fired, but the demon deflected the bullets.

The demon held up his hand and Dean was frozen in place. It then pointed his finger and drew a line in the air and a corresponding line ripped Dean’s shirt and blood appeared. He gasped at the sudden pain. The finger changed direction and another gash appeared. He gritted his teeth.

“Really, Dean, you can’t be hurting from this, not Alastair’s great protégé. Oh, yeah, I remember you. Your arrival was front page news for weeks, and when you broke,” he chuckled, “it was a damn feather headdress in Alastair’s cap.”

Dean could hear Bobby and Jo calling his name but he couldn’t see them. Damn demon must’ve set up a barrier. He began to recite the exorcism. “Regno terrae cantate Deo, soli te Domino--”

“None of that.” The demon took away Dean’s voice and pinioned him against a poplar tree with a wave of his hand. “No time to play, the grown-ups are busy.”

“Haven’t you heard about all work and no play?”

Dean looked to his left and saw Alan striding towards them. The right side of his face was scraped and bleeding and there was a long gash running down his forearm. He was lucky it missed an artery. The look in his eyes reminded him of Dad, in a cold, military way.

“Why didn’t you stay down?” The demon waved his hand again but Alan was unaffected. The demon tried again with no success.

Alan raised his bleeding arm and the tables were turned on the demon. Dean was freed from the tree and ran to his brother’s side. Sam was breathing in huge lungfuls of air, color returning to his lips. Dean helped him stand and they both looked at Alan who seemed to be holding the demon in place, not sending it back to Hell like Sam did.

Jo and Bobby came running up. “Are you okay?” “What’s going on?” they asked simultaneously.

“A little banged up, but okay,” Dean answered.

“Latin!” Alan ground out.

Sam began the exorcism and Dean joined in, his voice giving Sam’s strength. Alan lowered his hand and the demon left the man’s body with a scream. Like marionettes with their strings cut, both Alan and the once-possessed man collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Bobby took control of the situation. “You three take Alan back to the motel while I do the salt and burn.”

Dean picked up Alan’s legs as Sam got the head and shoulders. Jo went ahead, opened the back door and slid inside to guide the body in. He then went to the trunk and pulled out a blanket and some clothes. He handed them to Jo when he got in. “Keep him warm and try to stop the bleeding on his arm. We can do a better job of it back at the hotel.”

Dean started the engine and turned up the heat. He knew that two lives hung in the balance right now. If Alan didn’t live to make it home, his brother would die as well and he was not about to let that happen, not to a pair of brothers almost as devoted to each other as he and Sam.

***

Sam helped Dean clean and disinfect the cuts on his chest. Thankfully, they were shallow as the demon was only toying with him. He wondered if that was the same type of thing Dean had done when he was a torturer. He hated to think of what his brother had been through and wished Dean didn’t feel like he had to shoulder it alone. Dean, not being one for chick-flick moments, rarely opened up about his feelings.

Jo was working on cleaning the cuts on Alan’s face while Bobby was stitching his arm. The man didn’t flinch or instinctively jerk when the needle pierced his skin. Whatever he had done, it had taken enough out of him to put him in a self-induced coma. What else could it be?

Dean and Jo both yawned and Bobby ordered that everyone should get some sleep. “Jo, why don’t you take Alan’s hotel room?” offered Dean. “We’ll call you when he wakes up.”

“Sending me away because you don’t think I can handle sleeping in a room with four guys?”

“As there’s a perfectly good room going to waste, I thought I’d ask. If you’d rather stay and listen to Sasquatch here snore, then I’ll take it.”

“I do not snore!”

“Trust me, dude, you do.”

“I think I’ll take it just to keep you from having it,” Jo said.

Bobby handed her the rental keys and Alan’s hotel key that he had taken from Alan’s coat pocket. With a wave she was gone. Dean stretched out on the other bed with a sigh. Sam wasn’t that tired so he volunteered for the first watch. Someone had to keep an eye on Alan.

“Move over, boy,” Bobby said to Dean.

Dean moved over. “I’ll relieve you in a couple hours.”

“Sure.” Sam opened the laptop and entered “Alan Kelly” into the search engine and found some interesting hits. As low snores filled the room, he read about a hero at the Battle of Salamanca and a WWI flying ace. Had it been anyone else, he would have believed them to be different people. He looked over his shoulder at the man in question and could not believe that he had done all the things attributed to him. One of the aspects of time travel, I guess. He turned back to the laptop and found some video clips on YouTube. He plugged in the earbuds and started through the list.

A tap on the shoulder startled him. “What’re you watchin’?”

“Dean?” Sam removed the earbuds as he looked at the clock on the computer. It was after 10:00.

“Your turn for a nap. How’s Alan?”

“I think he’s just sleeping now.” Sam headed for the bed.

“Right. Watch out for Bobby, he kicks like a mule.”

Sam doubted he’d feel it anyway, he was that tired. One of the last things he remembered before sleep claimed him was Dean’s chuckle.

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Dean took a quick peek at Alan to check for himself before sitting at the laptop. He was about to close what Sam had been watching to visit his usual sites when curiosity got the better of him. He played the video of a 60s band and chuckled at what he saw. “No wonder he was going on about music,” he murmured.

He then found one that was an interview with the band which was composed of Alan, his two brothers and one hot redhead, a cousin. Dean then looked at the twin, Ryan, and knew that this was the brother that was dying; the other was older. He’d have to check with Bobby to see if he knew what could be happening and if he had the stuff Alan needed.

He shut off the laptop and stretched. It was time for food and coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure and only relaxed when he realized it was Castiel. The angel was standing at the foot of Alan’s bed, watching. It was eerie and somewhat comforting at the same time.

“You stopped the seal,” he stated. “This has set them back.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” Dean asked as he stood beside him.

“He will wake soon. His body is…recharging.”

“Is that why he was here? To hold the demon in place until we exorcised it?”

“Possibly.”

Dean wondered if it was something more to do with Sam and his “gifts”. While Alan kept the demon in place, he yelled out for them to use Latin, not for Sam to use his abilities. Could be he was here as a role model of sorts. He noticed Castiel had something tucked under one of his arms. “What’s that?”

“Chuck asked me to give it to Alan.” He handed it to Dean. “You can give it to him when he wakes.” With a flutter, he was gone.

Dean looked down at a fresh manuscript and had just started to read when he heard the squeak of bedsprings. He looked up to see Alan propped up on his elbows watching him. Aside from the bruise that covered nearly half his face, he looked pretty good for a guy waking from a coma.

“That looks like heavy reading for you,” Alan croaked as he sat up.

“It’s yours. Cas brought it while you were asleep.” He handed Alan the manuscript.

“An original Carver Edlund. Oh, and it’s signed. No wonder I never knew the story. He couldn’t let it be printed because then I’d know what would happen.” He slowly stood, swaying only slightly. “I need a shower.” He made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Dean kicked the other bed, waking Bobby and Sam. “He’s awake,” he said in answer to their groans before calling Jo.

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After relieving himself, Alan washed his hands and got his first look at his face. The majority of the right side was mottled red, black and blue and swollen. There were a couple of butterfly bandages covering the cut that ran along his cheek. Noticing his gauze-wrapped arm, he had a feeling there were stitches so he took the plastic bag from the trash bin and wrapped it around. He then stripped down and stepped into the warm shower. As he scrubbed off the dirt and sweat, Alan thought on what he had done. How, of all things, had he faced down a demon, immobilizing it for Dean and Sam to exorcise? Hopefully, he’d never have to repeat the process considering the condition it left him in.

Not wanting to use up all the hot water, he turned it off and rubbed himself dry. There was a tap on the door so he wrapped a towel about his waist and opened it.

Sam was standing there with his bag. “Jo just came with your stuff.

“She’s got good timing. I’ll be right out.”

He changed into jeans and a t-shirt before stepping out into the room. Sam was packing while Jo read the manuscript over Dean’s shoulder. “Where’s Bobby?”

“There were a couple things he wanted to look at before we left,” said Dean. “He doesn’t get out this way that much.”

Jo looked at his face. “It doesn’t look that bad. I did a pretty good job.”

“Thanks for that. I really don’t remember a thing after you started the exorcism.”

“We sent the demon back to hell and Bobby took care of the bones and made sure the man got home.” Sam zipped up his bag.

The door opened and Bobby came in. “How’re you feelin’, Alan?” he asked.

“Fine.” He noticed the hunters exchanging speaking glances. “What’s going on?”

“When you were in the shower, I told Bobby about your brother,” said Dean.

“I’d heard about something similar so I made a few calls…” He held out a small paper bag. “Instructions are inside.”

“That’s where you went.” Alan took the bag, unable to hide the wide smile. “I can’t believe you did it.”

“Promised you, didn’t I?”

“Not in so many words. I didn’t think it would happen.” He put it into his bag and pulled out something else. “There is one more favor I’d like to ask.”

“What?” asked Sam.

He revealed the camera. “I want my brother to see the people who helped save his life.”

The brothers groaned. “We do not do pictures,” Dean stated.

“It’s not for you. It’s for my brother in hospital,” Alan said, laying on the guilt.

“Fine.”

After taking the picture, Alan packed up his items and gave the brothers goodbye hugs who promised to take back the rental. He also threatened to come back at some time in the future. After taking Jo and Bobby back home with his deepest thanks, he returned home to his brother.