Author's Note: Hello readers. This is my foray into a pure Supernatural piece of fiction. For this story, I'd just like to note that it takes place in what could be considered a Post-Series AU in the sense that it assumes the series took place in the early '90s or so and that certain characters that are dead in Canon are actually alive and vise versa. I hope you enjoy, OneHorseShay.

A Wayward Son's Son
By OneHorseShay
Disclaimer: Don't own, Don't sue. For God sakes, don't sue.

Rating: T Violence, Language & Possible Adult Situations (I'm covering my bases)

Summary: Years after the derailing of the Apocalypse by the Winchesters and Castiel, Fate still had not got comfortable with it and decided to get it back on track with the help of a few stray angels and demons that agree with her. However with the Winchesters long retired, it's up to a member of the new generation of Winchesters to stop her. Post-Series AU, Some characters that should dead are alive and possible spoilers.

Freewill may be a bitch, but Fate is a far bigger one.

I should know. I've met her and unfortunately for her, the next time I see her, I'm going to put the blade of an archangel into her chest and cut out the equivalent of her heart. After I'm done doing that, I'm going to send Atropos' sisters to wherever false gods go when they die just to be on the safe side.

Okay, okay, I admit that's kind of extreme, but since the tail end of my senior year in high school just over a year ago, my life has stopped being normal, well as normal as a guy could be when he's the son of a retired Hunter that was supposed to be the Archangel Michael's vessel for the Apocalypse against his brother Lucifer.

I'm sorry; I just kind of dumped that on you. You may think I'm a little crazy mentioning Fate, false gods, angel weapons and angel vessels as if they're real… unless you've read those books by Carver Edlund then it might not be so strange… you may actually believe what will one day be known as the Gospel of Winchester…

Allow me to back up and introduce myself and give you a little background to who I am. I'm Dusty Hale, actually that's what my friends—and my ex-girlfriends—know me as. It's not exactly my birth name. I'm just a guy you may not even give a second glance to if we passed on the street as I'd just be another nineteen year old kid—really good looking kid since I got my dad's looks—that's a dime a dozen in a city where everyone wants to be good looking and famous, but you'd be mistaken.

I was just some kid raised in North Carolina for almost my entire life after being conceived in the backseat of his nineteen sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala when my dad thought he was getting a quick lay (boy did my mamma play my dad that night) even if my father's hometown is in Kansas (too many bad memories for my dad to settle back there), but we moved to the City of Angels during my sophomore year in high school when my dad got a better job.

I got through a really crappy high school for half a school year while I adjusted to living in L.A. and when I mean adjust, I mean I had to crack a few heads to get them to realize that I wasn't going to be some. Hey, what can I say? My dad didn't raise any pushover.

Anyway, I got out of there for my junior and senior years to go to all places a performing arts high school. Did it feel at times that I was the only sane man stuck in repeats of 'High School Musical' with zany unique times that could be right out of a teen sitcom? Yeah… but I don't want talk about it. On the bright side a got me a pretty good diploma that made dad proud instead of becoming a high school dropout due to the 'family business' and the other school's diploma wouldn't be worth little more than toilet paper.

Other than that, I got through those two years without much problem. I had a relationship that lasted a week, took a while afterwards to realize that was never going to work out with her to get back together. I had a minor rival that desperately needed to shed his emo ways. I made some interesting friends and acquaintances where two of them are already multi-platinum songstresses and one of my ex's soon will be just a little more than a year out of high school. I started dating a supermodel just before I graduated… you read that right, a supermodel… dad was real impressed and took all the credit for me having the skills to pull it off even if I take after my Uncle Sam far more than him, but… it didn't work out… my fault.

So now we get to the point where I explain what got me to the position and opinion I told you at the beginning of my little monologue… so if you have a few minutes or maybe a few hours, I'll tell you.

If I'm going to do that, I think it's only fair I told you who I really am: My name is Henry Dustin Winchester and Fate wants me to be the Antichrist.

Chapter 1: Introductions are in Order

Minya, Egypt
Late September, 2013

The Coptic Christian church was a blaze as the mob made up of Muslim Brotherhood members chanted and cheered outside as a few others were smashing up a few surrounding businesses owned by the local Coptics and beating a few of the occupants to death.

They were taking their frustrations out on the minority group and anyone else they could blame for the ousting of President Mohammad Morsy. This was happening all over the city on the west bank of the Nile. Three other churches were already rubble while a Coptic boys' school complex and the Saint Joseph's girls' school was being gutted by fire. The orgy of destruction was rounded out with the Gunud al-Maseeh orphanage and the local Jesuit community center being laid to rubble while several police stations were currently under attack with automatic gunfire.

One man held an AK-74 at the woman desperately trying to protect her baby in her arms. He was shouting in Arabic as he was about to gun down the woman, but before he could pull the trigger, he screamed in terror and pain as a shining white-yellowish light blazed out of his eye sockets and mouth. His lifeless and internally charred body dropped to the ground.

The surrounding mob stopped in horror at what they had just witnessed and an eerie silence fell upon everyone, all the violence ceasing for several brief moments. They saw a young Caucasian man in his late teens with dark, nearly spiky brown hair wearing a black waist-length leather jacket with a gray hood, a blue Henley shirt and blue jeans.

The young man stared with a detached expression at the others while they tried to process what they had just witnessed.

One snapped out of his shock at seeing the disbelieving sight and brought up his assault rifle, but paused at seeing a disbelieving sight of the young man: he was starting to glow as a white-yellowish halo started surrounding him and two shadows started forming behind him until they took the shape of two eagle or hawk wings.

A few members of the mob took a few steps back while a number dropped to their knees in reverence.

The one pointing the assault rifle at him paused again at the new sight and that was his fatal mistake as the teenager held his hand up and the next moment a blinding flash of light was directed at the crowd.

The light quickly dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared and left in its wake were several dead, the ones holding firearms this, sprawled out on the ground with their eye sockets burned out to a char. The others just holding sticks or rocks or anything other than a firearm screamed in pain and fear from the temporary loss of their sight. Some collapsed to the ground, covering their eyes with their hands while others widely swung their weapons and tried to grapple anything to steady themselves. The ones that were being attacked were already on the ground and had their eyes shield for the most part, so they still had their sight.

The young man turned back to the church and raised his hand then lowered it, the flames extinguishing within the building. He spoke out in Arabic to the fearful Coptics and they quickly yielded to his command to gather any belongings they could carry along with picking up their injured companions and flee.

As some turned and grabbed any valuables they could manage before fleeing to hopefully safer places in the city, some were muttering in disbelief at seeing the person that had heard through hushed whispers throughout the community since nearly the beginning of the Morsy's overthrow: 'The boy with the black wings'.

He glanced around to see the devastation, emotions of despair and anger coursing through him and fighting for control in not just turning them all into fine ash. He noticed another woman hysterically crying as she sat on the road cradling a boy, probably no older than ten, having been shot in the stomach and bleeding out. He struggled for breath, the last of his life slipping away from him and his mother knowing that no help would arrive in time.

He walked to the mother and knelt down beside her.

The mother fearfully looked upon him as he placed his hand on the child's forehead. A small vacuum sound emanated from his forehead and warm light underneath the boy's skin in his stomach and the next moment, the child's wound was healed including being free of any blood on him or his clothing.

The mother blinked up in bewilderment of what just happened to her son.

The teenager patted her on the shoulder and motioned for her to follow the others to flee.

She scooped up her child, a little big to carry with her small frame, but she nevertheless was able to flee with him as some others helped the injured flee.

He looked to the mob of people, fearfully crying for help and wondering aimlessly about. He could work up little sympathy for them, but the mob's sight would eventually return.

He turned back to the church and slowly started walking towards the entrance. He took a few cautious steps up then entered the scorched and chard interior. He rested his hand on the burnt pew then glanced up to the altar. He slightly shook his head and whispered towards the ceiling, "They torch Your churches. They persecute and kill Your people and You do nothing… You can't spare a few angels and protect them? No wonder Raphael assumed you were dead."

He heard a familiar fluttering sound behind him and in an instant, a silver long dagger/short sword dropped from out of nowhere parallel to his inner right forearm into his hand. He quickly turned and was ready to strike down who had tried to sneak up on him, but stopped in mid-swing when he saw a fair light skin teenage girl, probably eighteen or nineteen years old with dark auburn red hair. She had soft, slightly plumped cheeks, red lips and standing at about five and a half feet and quite attractive to the teenager. She wore a short black woman's blazer jacket, white dress shirt and black slacks.

She raised her hands and took a step back before quietly greeting, "Hello."

He cautiously eyed the teenager while keeping his blade up and slowly returned the greeting, "Hello. Who might you be?"

"I'm Talitha and you must be Dustin—Dusty."

The older teenager quietly answered, "I might… It depends on who wants to know."

The teenage girl waited for him to continue, but he remained silent and looked to her with a slightly smug yet curious glance. The girl awkwardly looked around to see the burnt out church. She looked back to him and commented, clearly nervous on how to get a conversation started, "You've been busy."

"It's a war torn country right now. People are being terrorized, hurt… murdered in the streets. There's a lot of good to do in the meantime and I can do some of it. Saving people, hunting things… it's the family business and I'm focusing on the 'saving people' part right now, but you obviously know that or you wouldn't be here."

She looked over her shoulder out to the open door of the church to see a few members of the mob's eyesight started to return then started fleeing, apparently all the fight had been taken out of them. She also saw one of the rioters that had his eyes burned out and actually his brain and internal organs just as fried. "Yes, saving people… interesting how you define good…"

"Either him or a dead innocent woman and baby… and a few other dead innocent people." He motioned dismissively with the point of his blade. "And I don't have to justify myself to you."

She softly admitted, "No, you certainly don't."

He lowered the blade and asked in an impatient tone, clearly not wanting to have to deal with the celestial creature, "What do you want angel?"

"How did you know I was an angel?"

He cocked his head to the side and shrugged a shoulder. "Beside the whooshing noise of you winging behind me? I can see your halo. So who are you and why are you bothering me instead of being out there and helping?" He snorted out in mild disgust as he added one more point, "Or sitting on a cloud and playing a harp?"

The dark redhead licked her bottom lip then quietly answered, "I'm Talitha and I'm an angel of the Lord and I'm 'bothering you' because you are Henry Winche—Hale, Dustin Hale and you're the son of Michael's true vessel and the Archangel Haniel and because of that, we think you can help us."

Her statement certainly grabbed his attention and slowly answered, "'We' needs my help? Who is 'we'?"

She blinked and gave him a nearly poutful expression, confused that he wouldn't readily know. "I thought it was obvious: I'm an angel… Heaven needs your help."

"Heaven? I highly doubt the Heavenly Hosts needs the help of an 'abomination'."

She nervously looked to him and answered in the best diplomatic manner she could muster, "You are not an 'abomination'… even if is forbidden for your kind to be conceived."

Dusty sarcastically remarked, "Tell that to Metatron the next time you see him if he ever crawls out of whatever rock he's hiding."

A slight shiver went through her, recalling the memory of when her brothers and sisters were ejected from Heaven by the former scribe. She swallowed some of her apprehension then continued, "Not many angels would want to admit that they shared a view with him, but discussing what you are isn't why I'm here. I really am here to ask for your help. Heaven does need your help."

Dusty coldly stared at her for a few seconds, trying to weigh her words and discern her body language since he couldn't read her like a human and they tended to be far more open without realizing it due to the lack of having a physical body most of the time.

He glanced up towards the ceiling, a slight frown forming on his face and slightly shaking his head. He looked back to the female with the appearance of his near age. "They sent you to talk to me? She couldn't find time to come down here and talk to me? And let's just assume you're telling me the truth, why send you? I don't know you. Why not Uncle Cas or Balthazar if she couldn't—wouldn't come down? Heck, Inias or Samandiriel would have been fine, but why you? Why can't she or Gabriel just send a few angels down to take care of whatever you want me to help with?"

She nodded her head, slightly looking embarrassed to answer his first point, but unsure how to respond to his other questions. She slightly struggled, "I couldn't speak for that, only that it shouldn't be a problem with me talking to you since even though you don't know me. We're family—"

She was cut off by his tongue as nearly sharp as the angelic steel in his hand, "You are not my family. There are only a handful of angels I consider family and I certainly don't count you as one of them."

Talitha nervously nodded her head, not wanting to be at the end of his obvious anger ignited from her assertion. "Okay, that was a bad… assumption on my part. All angels are siblings and since you're my big sister's son, I thought…"

Dusty slightly pursed his lips, refraining from making any kind of sarcastic remark about the angel's naïveté.

The attractive angel glanced away again to try to gather her thoughts, his gaze apparently intimidating her.

"As you were saying…" he offered, feeling a little sympathetic to the angel that looked as if she was inexperienced in dealing with people.

She seemed to instantly relax and continued, "I'm just following orders to ask you for help. I don't know why I was sent instead of someone else to talk to you, but I'm guessing why they think you'd be willing to help is because helping us actually helps you… helps everyone."

He snorted out softly, "You angels certainly are good at taking orders. Most of you're not very good at that 'independent thinking'…" His expression became serious as his curiosity was being peaked, "…but let's set that conversation aside for the moment and talk about how helping you actually helps me."

She flashed him a smile, eager to discuss the situation in thinking she had gotten him onboard. "War, the Horseman. He's stoking the fires around here and we'd like to clamp down on him."

The teenager from the City of Angels slightly furled his brow and slowly questioned, "War?"

"Yes, one of the Horseman of the Apocalypse… the guy whose car you own."

Dusty slightly frowned and pointed out with a slightly impatient tone, "I know who War is. I just didn't see him getting involved." He motioned around and remarked, "A bunched of pissed off Muslims don't need his help to work themselves up to slaughter Christians and their fellow Muslims that don't want to live in the seventh century or kill the Buddhists and Hindus in South East Asia or simply each other because they belong to a different sect. They've been doing that for the last ten years in Iraq and decades in South East Asia."

The dark redhead shrugged a shoulder. "He does have a day job other than when he shows up for the apocalypse."

"Okay, whatever, why ask me? A few angels can't come down and persuade him to push off?"

She slightly bowed her head and awkwardly replied, "There's other reasons than just sending War off on his way, it's…" She glanced around as if she was looking to see if anyone was overhearing them.

Dusty slightly leaned to his right and dipped his head to try to meet her eyes. "It's what?"

She continued to avoid meeting his eyes and whispered, but oddly echoed throughout the entire church, "Some demons… demons loyal to Lucifer… want War's ring… all the rings of the Horsemen so they can open the cage. It's the only way now to open it since the seals aren't a locking mechanism anymore."

The nephil was quick to point out with a sharp tone, "There are no Lucifer loyalists left. Crowley wiped them out when he truly became 'King of Hell' or they're locked away in the deepest parts of Hell and Aunt Meg would never let them out."

She lifted her head and glanced to him in an odd manner at his reference to the 'Queen of Hell'. She waited for a few seconds wondering if he would explain further, but he remained silent, so she timidly answered, "He didn't get all of them and then there are others…"

He frowned, not liking what he was hearing for more than the obvious reason. "What others?"

"The angels that wanted to take Lucifer's side."

Dusty surprised her with a sharp and resolute tone, instantly knowing who she was referring, "Uriel is dead."

"Yes, but there were more than just him. He did have supporters… the ones that said yes to him in that garrison. We never figured out exactly who stayed hidden after his death."

"It doesn't matter. They'd be dead too. They would have joined Raphael in trying to open the box to get the Apocalypse back on track, but just rooting for Lucifer, and died when Uncle Cas vaporized them after he became 'God' for a while."

She stated in a soft, somber and regretful voice, "He didn't get all of them."

Dusty rolled his eyes, not finding any objection to that point because even after all that smiting, several groups of angels were still left to splinter off to keep fighting among themselves: Naomi and Malachi being the two power wielders that had battled for control of Heaven in the aftermath of Castiel's very short reign while Earth and Hell had their attention focused on the Leviathans trying to take over.

"Okay… that still doesn't answer the question of why me? Why not send a few to down to deal with the angel and demon loyalists?"

Talitha licked her lips and almost embarrassingly admitted, "Because we really don't know who said yes to Uriel. We might be tipping off our hand to the very people we're trying to stop and… there are plenty of angels now in hindsight that wouldn't mind for Lucifer and Michael being released and having it all done and turning the world into paradise… picking up Raphael's plan. If it is seen that we're directly interfering and acknowledging that it's a real possibility, it might stir some to act and kick off another civil war."

He answered in a solemn tone, "And because Gabriel doesn't have the stomach in putting down dissenters… if I do something about it, it's just expected and it doesn't upset the applecart up there?"

"I would guess that's what's hope for. Hopefully anyone that would join to let them out won't notice what's going on."

The teenager from Los Angeles slightly bowed his head and nearly flippantly remarked, "Okay, thanks for the heads up." He started to walk past her as he made the angel short-sword disappear at the inside of his right forearm.

Talitha quickly turned and shouted, "Wait!"

The teenager stopped and looked over his left shoulder to give her a curious expression. "Wait for what?"

"I'm… I'm here to help you."

He turned in place then slightly tilted his head to the right as he questioned, "Help? You just said you didn't know why the sent you."

"I didn't know why they sent to tell you, but I'm supposed to help you either way. You are going to be facing at least a few demons… possibly some angels. Even you could use some help with those odds."

He slightly frowned as he wasn't blind to her point and wasn't too proud to admit it at least to himself. He was only planning to find and warn the Horsemen, not engage in knockdown, drag out fights with a few angels. However, he couldn't ignore the possibility it could happen, but that didn't mean he was suddenly going to blindly trust her. As his father pointed out to him one time, 'Angels were just monsters with good PR'. Instead of bluntly voicing his concerns, he decided for a different approach, "If you're going to tag along with me, it's going to look a little suspicious with you hanging around me and helping. I thought the point was to keep Heaven's fingerprints off this."

She lazily shrugged a shoulder and softly smirked, "I'm told it won't."

"How? There's not many good reasons for an angel to simply hang around a person, especially a nephil."

She softly laughed like a child, "It depends on what type of angel that makes for a… 'believable cover story' I'm told."

He quickly frowned and hated to ask because he had a feeling it was just going to bite him in the rear later—or right at this moment, but did anyway, "What kind of angel are you?"

"I'm a cupid."

He had what Crowley would have called a 'Moose' moment after his uncle then realized what the angel meant and what Heaven's idea was behind her being helpful to him. "Your cover story is you're hanging around me to hook me up with someone?"

"Your ex specifically." She softly giggled, "Reestablish your connection with her."

His confused expression turned into one of sheer outrage and snapped, "If you put any of that angel mumbo jumbo on Heather to compel her to do anything…" He dropped his blade back into his hand and lifted his blade and coldly finished, "I will put this blade in your heart."

Talitha took a step back and raised her hands. "I'm not. I'm not going to use my arrows on her. It's just a story. I wouldn't do that."

"Like Hell you or your kind wouldn't. I know the truth. You don't help people work out their problems to stay together or help make connections, just compulsions so you can get people to roll in the sack to keep bloodlines going for viable vessels that wouldn't explode if the poor dumb bastard said yes. Just look at you, you're having to possess someone. Where did you pick her up from?"

The dark redhead bashfully remarked, "I will not manipulate her emotions to get with anyone. Things have changed in Heaven. We're just supposed to help people, not compel them. My vessel is a devout girl… You know she had to say yes."

Dusty slightly frowned as he knew that was true, but there were ways to get people to say yes that didn't want to say yes. "You didn't sweet talk or threaten her?"

"No. I told her the truth that I needed her so I could help save people."

There was no way for him to prove it either way, but the look in her eyes caused him to lean to believing her. He felt a little sorry for the teenager in not realizing what she had given up to 'serve'.

He casually remarked, "If you're a cupid, why haven't you tried to hug me?"

"Because I'm told no one likes it… and you had an angel blade in your hand."

Dusty nodded along to the point and stated, "Good call on that. So, if you're going to help me come on. You might be of some use… and if you're hanging around me, you can't bother Heather." He started walking out of the church while making his blade disappear once again.

Talitha quickly took a step behind him, slightly frowning that he believed that she would do something to his supermodel ex-girlfriend, but set that aside for the time being and asked, "What's the plan?"

"Simple, we find him and tell him the truth: a few angels and demons are on his tail to try to steal his ring and he needs to move along."

The dark redhead slightly frowned and asked in a tone that showed her embarrassment of not understanding what was probably a deeper plan, "Would it be that simple?"

"If not, I'll kick him in the rear then take the ring and drop it in a black hole. They can go fish it out of there if they want to."

The disbelief in her voice was audible as she asked, "You think you can do that?"

He snorted out a breath as they trotted down the steps back out towards the parallel road. "My father and uncle could easily hold him down to chop off a few fingers with an ancient Kurdish demon killing blade and I'm a lot stronger than them and I have an angel blade. It shouldn't be that hard."

"You might be underestimating him."

He stopped just before reaching the road and turned to her, ignoring a few remaining members of the mob still blindly milling about. "I'll concede to that possibility, but that can't stop me for doing something. That was the point of you coming down here… but we have to find him first."

The female angel happily offered, "I know where War is."

He cautiously asked, "You do?"

She felt a slight smugness in knowing something that he didn't. "Yes, it's not that hard. He likes being at the center of all the chaos and we know where the center is."

Dusty looked back on her with a guarded expression and slightly nodded. He motioned with a hand and remarked, "Lead the way."

She bit her bottom lip and the next moment she vanished with a whoosh of air.

He frowned on the fact that she didn't tell him where she was going then heard her whispered to him in a direct prayer on to where to follow her. The next second he vanished from sight in full view of a dozen or two people.

Author's Note: I'm not exactly sticking to canon as to the abilities of a Nephil is, but they weren't exactly fleshed out and I actually created this character with abilities before the first Canon appearance of a nephil. Also, I have a tendency to cast real actors and actress into parts when writing, so I'll be listing how some characters look in my mind's eye. The tentative star of this piece, Dusty is played by Cody Christian. Finally, yes the stars of the show will eventually be making appearances in the story. I appreciate the patience for their arrival. Thanks for reading.