A/N: This story is complete in six parts; I'll post a chapter a day. I have the next two stories outlined and an idea of where to go with the one after that, but RL is super busy right now, so I can't promise how soon I'll get them written.

A Time to Gain
By San Antonio Rose

Chapter 1
News

March 30, 2006
Sinclair Mansion, Southern Missouri

The Warrior Queen of Indochina sighed as she finished destroying a storeroom's worth of exceptionally cursed artifacts that her children had deemed too deadly to keep and had asked her to deal with. Said storeroom stood at the end of a hall, which had presumably made it easier for Cuthbert Sinclair's lesser servants and guests to avoid unless he intentionally sent them to their unwitting doom. Three of Agatha's scanner bots had exploded upon coming within a foot of the door, and from their photographs, Zeetha had been able to make out enough of the warding on the door frame to determine that even sending a far more robust robot to scan the room and merely lift the lids of the curse boxes to photograph the contents would be too dangerous to attempt. Henry had been saddened at the prospect of losing the information, but Agatha had argued that not all knowledge was worth keeping, and even Samuel had agreed. Then Dean had found a ledger with entries describing everything in that room, which not only mollified Henry but also prompted him to concur with Zeetha's view.

They had then all agreed without prompting that it was better not to know what spells Sinclair had used to protect himself against his toys. Samuel had surmised correctly that it must have been blood magic of a particularly twisted kind, and the Warrior Queen had needed to do no more than confirm his surmise for the matter to be closed with a general shudder.

Her children had all been justly cautious these last three months—and she had no qualms about calling them all hers, though only Gilgamesh and Zeetha were hers by Klaus Wulfenbach and only Agatha and Dean were hers by marriage. Samuel and Henry were blood of Dean's blood, and she had grown fond of them. Still, though Sinclair had kept his house immaculate, making it safe for any other human to live in had taken considerable labor, and while that labor was nearing its end, the strain was beginning to tell. Their celebrations of the birthday Dean had chosen to share with the twins and of Gilgamesh and Agatha's anniversary had been subdued compared to Christmas, and even Zeetha had not been her usual reckless, carefree self in quite some time.

That thought and a mother's instinct prompted her to make the rounds through the house to check on everyone. In the study, Samuel and Henry had fallen asleep at their reading. Samuel had been sitting on the couch, so she had only to set his book on the table (coffee table, they called it here) and position him more comfortably, with a pillow beneath his head and a blanket to cover him. Henry was less comfortably asleep at the desk and battling a nightmare, so she gently banished the nightmare and carried him upstairs to his bed, noting the fine lines on his slender face and the few strands of silver lurking in his dark hair. He now looked closer to 35 than to 30; the years he had missed due to time travel were slowly catching up to him. How soon his appearance would bear out the fact that he was Dean and Samuel's grandfather, she could not foresee. That his nightmares would return, however, was almost certain, so she tucked him in and sent him into a deeper, more healing sleep before moving on to the other bedrooms.

Dean and Zeetha had fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the bedclothes of their bed, a testament to their level of exhaustion born of long hours of hard work. Dean was lying on his side, his arms around Zeetha's chest and his nose buried in her hair; Zeetha had her arms around his waist and her head snuggled against his shoulder. Their dreams were peaceful, though, and they needed nothing more than covering up. Gilgamesh and Agatha had gotten as far as undressing before crawling into bed, but no further. Gilgamesh, flat on his back, was trapped in a wandering dream, racing through endless circular halls and up and down steep stairs in search of who knew what. His mother entered the dream just long enough to direct him through an exit toward a calmer scenario, and his restless mind settled to the point that she did not fear for his ability to sleep the rest of the night. Agatha, on the other hand, was on her stomach and murmuring into her pillow, and her right hand kept twitching as if she were attempting to write. No sooner did she have a pencil in that hand and a notepad under it than she began writing for real, though there was no telling whether she would be able to read or understand any of it when she awoke.

With the children taken care of, the Warrior Queen decided to make a final check to ensure that everything was ready for Tarvek and Colette Murphy's arrival sometime during the morning. She was halfway down the stairs, however, when one of Agatha's new patrol bots flew up to her.

Bing! it chimed and saluted. Brrrbing!

"Is he?" she asked quietly in English.

Bip.

"All right, thank you."

The bot chimed again and went on its way, and she let herself out through the portal at the foot of the stairs to the clearing where the mansion stood hidden. Sure enough, perched on a low branch of one of the trees at the edge of the clearing and looking off into the surrounding forest sat a figure that would, to mortal eyes, appear to be a man with slicked-back golden brown hair. One of his legs was swinging aimlessly where it dangled beside the branch, while the other knee was drawn up to his chest, and the stick of a lollipop stuck out of one corner of his mouth.

"Loki," she called softly, walking over to him.

He turned with an impish smirk and took the lollipop out of his mouth. "Zantabraxus," he returned in a mocking tone, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I wondered when I would actually see you here. It was you who scared Zola away, was it not?"

He snorted. "She was way too easy to mess with. The Colt negated all the spells Sinclair had placed on himself, so the Reaper nabbed his soul the second you guys opened the portal to go in the first time, but there's no way she could have known that. 'Sides, somebody had to keep her from recognizing anybody but Klaus and Barry."

"I was prepared to do so."

"Yeah, but I was already out here, and I've had way more experience with illusions than you have, kid."

"You were also the being who sent Jess to Beetleburg for Thanksgiving, am I right?"

"Bingo. Figured as long as she was alive, she was more use with Sam wherever he was than pining away to nothing in California."

"I believe I have sensed your presence beyond those incidents, though."

"Hey, your kids are fun. So are the Winchesters." He popped the lollipop back into his mouth.

"Why are you here?"

He shrugged and removed the lollipop again. "Eh. I got nothin' better to do."

"Gabriel."

Stung, he looked at her, then handed the lollipop to the air and jumped down from the tree, growing to match her height as he landed. When he spoke again, it was in Enochian, and his face was grave. "Your kids have wrecked the plan, Luheia."

She raised an eyebrow and returned in the same language, "Only they and not I?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no. You helped, showing them about the demon blood and all, but this started way before you came over. Sam and Dean weren't supposed to have friends; thanks to Gil, they've got the Adventure Club. Hell, Dean was supposed to have had a son by a one-night stand in '98, but John sent him on that skinwalker hunt to give him an excuse to visit Gil, and the one-night stand never happened. The boys weren't supposed to know about their being vessels until after Sam popped the lock on the Cage, but Gil figured it out five years ago. They weren't supposed to have Jess or Henry, either, but now they've got both and the Men of Letters bunker to boot, not to mention this place. But even all that wouldn't have been enough to derail the plan completely. You know Zachariah."

She sighed. "I suppose he's gotten worse."

"Way worse. He hates humans almost as much as Lucifer does. Raphael's backing him, too, so he's determined to force the issue if he has to. And if it were just Gil and Agatha making a difference, as huge a difference as it is, he'd still find a way around them. But the night Dean met Zeetha..." He shook his head again. "They were in Texas. I felt the shockwave in Idaho. And that was just the first kiss. When she went with him on the vetala hunt, I knew it was only a matter of time before they got married. I had to act fast and jump back to '73 and '78 to keep the timeline from unraveling completely."

She frowned. "What? Why?"

"Long story short, because of Zeetha, Dean can't be manipulated into making the trip himself to set up the predestination paradox. That's the main reason Henry got dumped out of the time stream as early as he did; he should have landed about ten years later, if he even survived the jump at all.* Zach hasn't figured any of that out yet. But if I hadn't ensured that Mary would not only take Azazel's deal but also walk into Sam's nursery that night in '83, Zach would have gotten wise and sent Uriel back to 1917."

"Why that year?"

"First year US troops were involved in World War I. If Uriel shows up then, Ernst Wulfenbach and Alexei Vodenicharov don't make it home; Klaus Wulfenbach and Bill Heterodyne are never born; and the whole plan goes back on the rails, nice as you please."

She hissed. "I still don't understand. Why would Zeetha make such a difference when Gilgamesh doesn't?"

He blinked and frowned. "What, don't you—oh. That's right. You never took a vessel. You ditched before those rules changed."

"I did not 'ditch'! Michael already believed Lucifer's lies about the plan and half believed him about humankind, and that was even before Father sealed Amara away with the Mark and Lucifer crossed the line into open rebellion. I was a Principality; my duty was to protect humanity against all foes, even our fellow angels. Nuada and Oberon agreed with me, and our garrisons stood with us. We obeyed Father's will, and for that he cast us down!"

He raised his hands placatingly. "Bad choice of words. I'm sorry."

"Sorry! Now you're sorry! Where were you when Michael denounced us to Father?"

"Look, I don't understand why Dad made that decision, and I don't understand why he's kept Gadreel locked up all these millennia when his only crime was falling for one of Luci's cons. That's one of the reasons I ditched and went into Witness Protection so Mike and Rapha can't drag me back into the fight. No one wants it to stop more than I do—but I got a good look at a bunch of the possible endings before I went back. Even if the plan worked, to the extent it ever could work, it still wouldn't be over. Even without your kids, Sam and Dean would have made sure the plan failed spectacularly, and then matters in Heaven would have gone from bad to worse, let alone the effects on earth and under the earth. With Gil, Agatha, and Zeetha in the mix, especially Zeetha... there's a chance Mike might actually change his mind and call the whole thing off. And Zach can't allow that to happen. I mean, you know what they say about nephilim..."

"That's a lie! They are not more powerful than Father!"

"You know that, and I know that, but the rest of the Host believes Luci's version. That's just prejudice, though. The real danger lies in the fact that they can all merge with Dean."

"Why? Because of the soul-bonds?"

"Partly, and that is significant. Dean's not so easy to isolate now, and I've got a hunch that'll spill over to Sam pretty soon. That brotherly love is as strong as death anyway, and now it's being strengthened by having more family ties. At least for Dean, there's no longer the same ache for the vessel to be filled by the angel he was made for because of that bond with Zeetha. But it goes even deeper than that."

"How so?"

"Most vessels can't house any angel but the one they were made for, but archangel vessels can house lesser angels—or, apparently, two half-fae and a Heterodyne. The catch is that their vessel space is like one of these new holster types that's made for a range of gun models but molds itself to fit one particular gun, and only that gun, over time. Dean's been merging with Zeetha for close to four years now, and that's changing the shape of his vessel space. So did that brief merge with Gil and Agatha added. Especially if all four of them merge again for more than a few seconds... it won't take long for Dean to change so drastically that Mike can't possess him even if Dean could somehow be manipulated into agreeing to be possessed. And the odds of Dean saying yes now are microscopic."

She raised her chin, finally understanding. "And you want it to stay that way."

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. I like them, Lulu—all five of them, and the rest of the Adventure Club, too. Speaking of which, keep an eye on Ardsley. Albia's gone rogue; she might send his dad after him."

"We can deal with her later." She paused. "Will you come in and show yourself?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Not yet."

"Gabriel..."

"It's not time yet. Maybe after they get John back, but... not now. Something's about to come up that they'll have to deal with first."

Disappointed but not surprised, she nodded. "All right."

He stepped forward and embraced her. She pulled her wings in tight, and he wrapped his around her as she leaned into the hug.

"I've missed you, sister," he whispered.

"And I you, brother," she whispered back. "It's been far too long."

"Yeah. It has."

She pulled back just long enough to kiss his cheek, placing her family mark on his physical shell. "There," she said, resting her head on his shoulder again. "That should allow you to pass the wards."

He rubbed her back gently. "Thank you."

They stood there a while longer before mutually breaking the embrace. She stepped back, and he returned his form to its original size and jumped back up in the tree.

"I should go finish my rounds," she told him. "The children wanted to get an early start today, and I believe the Murphys have just left Beetleburg."

"You're not telling them the whole truth either, are you?" he asked with a knowing look.

"They know enough. They may deduce more. But true names have great power—you know that."

He chuckled. "Yeah, fair enough." Then he pulled his lollipop out of the air, put it back in his mouth, and returned to watching the woods and the road, and smiling to herself, she went back inside.

Perfect timing, Dean thought later that morning, hearing Gil's and Tarvek's voices in the hall outside the study just as he plugged the last cable into the new router box. Gil and Agatha had been giving Tarvek and Colette the grand tour while Dean, Zeetha, and Henry set up the equipment the Murphys had brought, and it looked like both groups were about to finish at the same time. The new desktop computer was up and running on the desk; the new webcam was mounted on the wall between the two big-screen monitor brackets and plugged into the computer; one monitor was also on the wall, and the other would be as soon as Henry and Zeetha got it lifted into place; and now the router was set up. All that remained was plugging in the monitors and uttering the incantation that would allow the router to connect beyond the walls of the mansion, both for secure video conferencing and for general Internet access through a server based at the Roadhouse.

Dean had never really thought of himself as a techy sort of guy. That was Sam's thing. Dean, like Dad, was more about the nuts and bolts, the mechanical side of things. But even he had started going into Internet withdrawal after two and a half months with no indoor access. (Really, about the only human who wasn't in withdrawal was Henry, and he'd get testy just because everyone else was.) Sam, Gil, and Agatha still hadn't quite figured out why—whether the mansion were in a pocket dimension or out of phase or what—but even with the revamped wards, neither cell phones nor wi-fi would connect from inside, the way they had at the bunker. Anyone who wanted to make a phone call had to go sit out in the car and either freeze or waste gas running the heater, and to get online, they had to go clear into Neosho to find a coffee shop or library, which was a dicey proposition given the family's need to stay as hidden as possible. Sam had nearly gone stir-crazy waiting for the weather to warm up enough that he could call his girlfriend Jess Moore at the bunker for more than five minutes a day without getting frostbite. Fortunately, Ash and Colette had finally found a solution that used subspace somehow, and Henry had sorted out the right Enochian spell to make it work with the wards. Dean was beyond ready to give it a test and finally rejoin the rest of the civilized world.

After turning the router on and setting it on top of a bookcase, Dean gave a concerned glance to the couch, where Sam was still sound asleep and hadn't even stirred while all the setup was going on. Guess he'll sleep through the whole thing, he thought with a sigh.

I'm sure he needs it, Zeetha thought back. You gonna give us a hand with this?

Dean turned to see Henry and Zeetha about to heft the second monitor into place. Zeetha had her back to him, and the angle at which she was holding onto the monitor displayed her well-toned arms and... other assets well, which gave him a vivid reminder—as if he needed it—of one of the many reasons he'd married her.

Nah, he thought back with a smirk he knew she could sense. I'm enjoying the view.

She sent him a playful telepathic bop on the head and gave a wholly unnecessary wiggle to prepare to lift the monitor.

If Henry noticed, he didn't let on. "Ready?"

"Ready," Zeetha replied.

"One, two, three—"

On three they both lifted and slid the monitor onto the bracket in one smooth motion. Dean checked the fit before giving them the thumbs-up, and as they backed away with sighs of relief, he swiftly plugged in the remaining cables. No sooner had he turned both monitors on than the rest of the group, including Zanta, walked in.

"That was quick!" Gil and Tarvek chorused.

Dean shrugged and nodded to Colette. "Had good instructions. You guys figure that stuff out?" he added, pointing to the notepad in Agatha's hand.

Agatha shook her head. "Mum says it's Enochian. We'll have to translate it later."

"Speaking of which," Henry interjected, "is everyone ready for the grand demonstration?"

"Everyone except Sam, looks like," Gil answered, looking at the couch.

"Let him sleep," Zeetha insisted again. "You know we all need it."

Henry nodded once. "Right." He walked over to the router, which had one LED lighted a steady red, and put one hand on it before slowly pronouncing the Enochian incantation.

The LED flashed yellow rapidly for several seconds, then turned green, and the other LEDs flickered on in the right order. Everyone who was awake cheered, but Sam didn't even flinch.

Gil went to the desk. "Everything connected?"

"Should be all systems go," Dean reported.

"All right..." Gil clicked the mouse several times, and the LED on the webcam lit up, after which a test image of the room displayed on both monitors. "Testing, testing..." Gil said, and the monitors echoed him clearly a second later. "Okay, here we go," he announced and clicked several more times. The left-hand monitor switched to a black screen with the words "Bunker is not yet online"; the right-hand monitor switched to an extreme close-up of a half-opened eye.

"Whoa!" Dean yelped. "Ash, you're too close to the camera!"

"Toldja, idjit," Bobby Singer's voice stated as Ash startled back and the image of his mulleted blond head blurred for a nauseating moment.

Still, the relief of hearing Bobby's voice outweighed the motion sickness. Klaus was still in Beetleburg with Agatha's uncle Barry Sanders (nee Heterodyne), who was finally out of the hospital, and they had kept in touch; but Bobby had left with Rufus Turner in January to take care of a case in Ankeny, Iowa, and Dean hadn't heard much from him since. Dad being missing was bad enough. Not being able to keep in touch with Bobby had only heightened the worries. "Hey, Bobby!" Dean called.

"Dean, kids, ma'am," Bobby replied as the image stabilized with a wider focus, showing both him and Ash in front of what looked like a metal wall. Ash still looked half-asleep despite the scare, but then again, Ash always looked half-asleep, even when he was totally alert and sober.

Then Bobby moved his head like he was trying to see past everyone. "Is Sam okay?"

Dean nodded. "Far as we know, just asleep."

Agatha frowned. "Where are you guys, Uncle Bobby?"

"Panic room," Ash answered before Bobby could. "Under the Roadhouse, warded about as tight as we can get it without Her Majesty's personal help. Gonn' keep the servers an' all down here so's nobody can get to it without my say-so. Walls are salt-coated iron, etched with wards against angels and demons both. Devil's Trap in the floor, another in the vent fan, and a third over the ladder. Bobby and Ellen built it last weekend."

"You did all that in a weekend?!" Tarvek echoed incredulously.

Bobby shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Somethin' to do."

Everyone laughed.

"And—there," Theo DuMedd's voice suddenly interrupted from the left-hand monitor, and the black screen was replaced with an image of the bunker's command center, filled with the remainder of the Adventure Club. "We should be live—can you hear us now?" Theo asked, looking up from a desktop set on the console of the much older mainframe that was apparently original to the bunker.

"Good here," Gil replied as Ash flashed a thumbs-up.

"Excellent!"

"All hail, the gang's all here," Tarvek said.

"Well, Ash, Colette, I'd say this calls for champagne if we were all in the same place," Henry said with a grin. "Never thought I'd live to see the day when video conferencing was a real technology—especially on a totally secure, totally wireless subspace network!"

Everyone but the two main architects applauded.

"Merci bien," Colette replied with a slight bow at the same time Ash said, "Much grass, amigos."

But before anyone could say anything else, Sam gasped loudly and sat bolt upright, panted harshly a couple of times, and collapsed against the back of the couch with a groan, closing his eyes and massaging his forehead.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, confused and worried.

Sam groaned again and shook his head.

"Sam?" Jess called from the bunker.

Sam's eyes popped open, and he looked around wildly for a moment. "Jess?"

"Over here."

Sam finally saw the new monitors and webcam staring at him from the opposite wall. "Oh. Uh. Hi, guys."

"Sam," Jess prompted again. "What did you see?"

Dean blinked several times. "See?"

Jess nodded. "That's the way he would wake up from the nightmares in October—the ones about... about the attack."

Wide-eyed, Dean stared at Sam. Wide-eyed, Sam stared at Dean and gulped. "G-give me a sec," Sam replied. "I, uh. It'll be easier to draw first than to explain."

Dean went to the couch and sat down while Sam grabbed a notebook and pencil off the coffee table and started sketching a two-story house. The more detail went into the sketch, the more dread grew in Dean's heart, and when Sam drew the tree outside just so, Dean couldn't suppress a quiet curse.

Sam looked up. "You recognize it? I thought it looked familiar, but I couldn't place it."

Painfully aware of how many people were staring at them, Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. What's... I mean... what'd you see?"

"This window here"—Sam pointed to one of the second-floor windows, and Dean's gut clenched—"exploded outward. The room behind it was on fire. A woman about our age ran to the window, screaming for help. And... that's when I woke up, but... I mean, don't ask me how I know this, but it felt like there was some sort of spirit there, trying to kill her."

Dean knew exactly what Sam was going to say next, but they couldn't have this conversation with an audience. He coughed nervously. "Would you guys excuse us for a minute?" he asked the assembled company and, without waiting for an answer, dragged Sam out into the hall, far enough to be pretty well out of earshot as long as they kept their voices down.

Sam was frowning in confusion. "What the hell, Dean?" he whispered.

Dean took a deep breath. "That's our house."

Sam blinked several times. "What?"

"Our old house in Lawrence. That window, the room that you saw on fire—that was your nursery."

Sam inhaled slowly. "You think it might be..."

"Man, I dunno what to think, but it is one hell of a coincidence that your vision-nightmares finally come back showin' somethin' goin' on in our old house."

"The woman I saw wasn't Mom, I'll swear to that. The face was different. It's probably the new owner, and in that case..."

"Sammy, I swore to myself I would never go back there. And what if this is some kind of a trap, huh?"

"There's still an innocent woman who's about to be killed if we don't do something about it."

Dean dragged a hand down his face, trying to ignore the way it was shaking.

"Dean," Zanta said, coming up behind him; he turned to find that she had Zeetha and Henry in tow. "I understand and share your misgivings about the nature of this case. But I also agree with Sam. Regardless of the danger, your family and no other must take this hunt."

Dean licked his lips. "You think it's Azazel?"

"I know not. Zeetha?"

Zeetha stepped past Zanta and Dean to approach Sam. "Can you replay the vision exactly?"

Sam shrugged. "I can try."

Zeetha nodded once, closed her merge-link with Dean, and put one hand on either side of Sam's head. They both closed their eyes, and Sam frowned a little in concentration for a good minute.

Zeetha finally blew the air out of her cheeks, reopened the link, and let go of Sam. "It doesn't seem to be Azazel's aura, based on what we saw in Sam's memories of that night in '83. It's nasty, though, whatever it is, and it does look like it was actively trying to kill the new owner of the house."

Dean swore quietly again, but more resignedly.

"Dean, we have to take this hunt," Sam insisted.

Dean heaved a heavy sigh. "Yeah. I know."

"But not alone," Henry stated softly and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I think Zeetha and I should go with you. A larger group would attract attention, but... it's about time the four of us head back to the bunker anyway."

Dean nodded and managed a wan smile. "Thanks, Henry."

Sam raised his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. "Hey, didn't Bobby take Agatha's locket to someone in Lawrence, some psychic, to help him figure out whether any of it could be salvaged?"

"Don't remember," Dean admitted.

"We can ask," Henry said.

Zeetha exchanged a look with her mom and put a hand on Dean's other shoulder. "Why don't you go on out and get the car warmed up for us, sweetheart? Shouldn't take the rest of us long to pack up and get ready to go." And I'll give you a heads-up when we're about to come out, she added through the link.

Dean glanced at Zanta, who nodded once, and sighed a little. "Good idea. Thanks, honey."

She squeezed his shoulder and headed upstairs, followed by Sam, while Henry patted his back and went back into the study to bring everyone else up to speed. Zanta opened the portal with a wave of her hand, and Dean nodded his thanks and went out.

He got as far as getting in the driver's seat and closing the door behind him before falling apart.

He knew why everyone thought they needed to take this hunt themselves. He understood the stakes. And he was grateful that Zeetha and Henry were coming with them. He just... needed one more person with him if he was going to set foot in Lawrence again for any reason—especially this reason.

Once he finished freaking out, he pulled out his phone and stared at it for a long moment. Finally, he got up the courage to dial, entered the number, and paused. Dad probably wouldn't answer. He hadn't answered since before Halloween. He'd probably assume that Dean had all the help he needed, or that the call was a trap, or... hell, Dean didn't even know Dad's mind anymore. Nor did he know how much time he had before the rest of the family came outside. He definitely didn't want Sammy to catch him with his guard down, and he was sure his guard would come down if he gave in and called. Still...

Five minutes, Zeetha sent, along with the mental equivalent of a kiss on the cheek, before shutting down the link again.

Dean's thumb hit the Call button before he could stop it. He stared at the screen as the tinny ring sounded five times; then Dad's recorded message picked up, and Dean raised the phone to his ear. He hadn't expected Dad to answer, but maybe leaving a message would still get some response.

"Dad," he choked out after the beep. "I know you've got your reasons for bein' on radio silence. So do we. I don't even know if you got Henry's message back before Christmas." He swallowed hard. "But the four of us... we're headed to Lawrence here in a few minutes. Looks like there's somethin' in our old house. Whether or not it's Azazel... Zee says she doesn't think so, but we won't know until we get there. But whatever it is... just the fact it's in our house... I don't know what to do." He paused again to try to squelch the tremor in his voice, but the tear that rolled down his cheek made that a lost cause. "So... whatever you're doin', if you could get there... we'll be gettin' in about noon, if you could meet us for lunch or somethin'. I just... I know I've got Sammy an' Zee an' Henry, but... I need your help, Dad. Please." And he hung up, looked at his watch, wiped his face, and spent the next few minutes pulling himself together.

One minute, Zeetha sent.

I'm ready, he sent back as he started the car. And when she came out exactly one minute later with Sam, Henry, and the bags, the car was warm and Dean had his game face on and his favorite mix tape in the tape deck.

"Ready to go?" Sam asked as he slid into shotgun and Zeetha and Henry climbed into the back seat.

"Hell, yeah, little brother," Dean replied with a smirk that he hoped didn't look as fake as it felt, put the car in gear, and drove off.

.

* I'm factoring the Years That Weren't into the SPN canon timeline, which would put Season 8 in 2014-2015.