A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading. I know, this time travel plotline has lasted a lot more chapters then I planned, but I promise we are nearing the end, and will get back to regular plot soon.

By the way, Millie Winchester, mentioned by Crowley in the last chapter, is Henry Winchester's wife. She was, based on my math, twenty-six when he disappeared, making her fifty-three in 1985.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

Chapter 36: A Fight for Love and Glory

August 12, 1958

Normal, Illinois

The dark-haired young woman smiled as she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. She took her arms out of the soapy water, reaching up to caress the cheek of the man behind her, "Mmmm," She breathed. "How's John?"

"Asleep," he replied, "Or pretending to be."

"You wind up his box?"

"Of course."

He leaned down to kiss her neck and she pulled away, slapping at him playfully, "Stop it, Henry. You'll get your suit all wet." She stopped a couple of feet away, eyeing him critically, "Shouldn't you be wearing something a little nicer? It is your big day after all." She paused, "The 'Initiation.'" Her voice went mockingly deeper and her eyes went comically wide on the word. The humored grin remained intact as she stepped forward and straightened his tie.

He smiled back at her, then sighed, "Oh, Millie. I wish you could be there." She favored him with a grin and then walked off, continuing to busy herself around the kitchen as he spoke, grumbling slightly, "I still don't see why you can't. You're a legacy too. And a hell of a lot more talented than me."

She didn't bother looking back at him, "We've discussed this. Girls can't be legacies."

"Josie is." Henry muttered, continuing to fiddle with the cuff of his overcoat.

Millie spared him a glance, smiling, "Yeah, well, maybe she'll help change things. In the meantime, I'm not, so I can't be involved in meetings." She walked back toward him, "Besides, it's an initiation. Legacies can't go anyway, only full members… so." She stopped, looking him up and down, "At least wear a different hat." She grabbed one, returning to snatch the original off his head and replace it. As she did so he caught her lips in a kiss. She froze, surprised for a second, than wrapped her arms around his neck, continuing and deepening it. Finally she broke away, smoothing out his coat collar, "You nervous?"

He grinned, laughing a little, "Yeah." She laughed with him, "Don't be. My dad told me about his. Said it was a slam-dunk. Easy. The rest was just old guys making speeches."

Henry raised an eyebrow, "Your dad was one the Men's best demon experts."

"Wasn't an expert when he started. You'll do fine. You'll see."

He stared at her lovingly, "What would I do without you?"

She smiled, "I don't know. Now get out of here. You're going to be late."

"Right," He gave her a peck on the lips, "Love you."

"Love you too. Now get going."

She sighed as she turned back to the sink full of dishes, not bothering to watch as he took the last steps and closed the door behind him.

Some time later she was on her knees behind a chair, scrubbing at a newly discovered piece of pencil artwork, courtesy of John, radio music playing softly in the background. Hopefully the four-year-old was asleep, and she didn't want to wake him up if she could help it. Listen to Me by Buddy Holly was playing, a little less up tempo than his stuff she generally liked, but it was a good song and she found herself humming snatches as she worked.

She stood to get some fresh washcloths, sighing in frustration as she looked at the unchanged drawing. She idly wondered if toddlers were some form of supernatural monster, if somewhere deep in the Men of Letters' underground library sat a dusty tome cataloguing their ways. She paused, pushing her hair back away from her face with the back one hand. The stupid things that go through one's mind sometimes…

A faint crackling attracted her attention, and she turned off the radio, following the noise to its source. The police scanner. She sighed, smiling and shaking her head as she moved to turn it off. It was part of Henry's work, a low level job normally dumped on some young legacy who couldn't object too strongly to being given busywork. Normally he turned it off when he wasn't home, but sometimes he could be absent-minded, especially when he was nervous about something.

Her hand froze on the switch as a voice crackled through. "…All available vehicles please attend. Repeat. We have a fire. Address: 242 Gains street…"

Her heart stopped. 242 Gains street. The Men of Letters' office.

Instantly she turned and ran out of the house, barely pausing to shut the door behind her as she ran down the street. No. No, this couldn't be happening. There had to be some mistake, some error in the emergency message. Please God, no. She prayed.

Her eyes went wide as she approached the area, and she slowed, barely able to comprehend what was around her. Fire trucks and police cars were everywhere, smoke and flames shot out the open door of the office as hoses shot water into the blazing inferno. A policeman stopped her as she kept walking, "Ma'am I'm sorry, you can't go any closer."

She barely looked at him, her gaze fixed on the building, "No, you don't understand. My husband's in there. I have to help him." She could barely think rationally anymore, all her sanity was being eaten up and burned away by the horrible sight in front of her, "I have to get to him." Desperate, she tried to push past him.

"Ma'am. MA'AM."

She started to struggle with him, "I have to get in there! You can't stop me!" She slowly became aware of other officers converging on her position, "No. NO! HENRY! NO! NO!" Increasingly she was screaming words rather than speaking them, fighting desperately with the officers attempting to restrain her, her only thought to find a way to get inside, "GET OFF ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!" She tried to leap forward, only to be overwhelmed and carried away, "NO! HENRY! Henry…" She repeated his name, finally descending from manic screams to sobs. She stopped struggling, collapsing into the arms of one of the officers and allowing him to lead her away. He sat down with her on the curb, put his jacket around her shoulders and held her as she cried.

Finally she was just sitting and sobbing, all her tears spent. The officer pulled her away from him to look into her face, "You okay, ma'am? Where do you live? Do you want me to take you home?"

She sniffed, running a hand across her face to clear away some tears, "No. I'll walk. It's not far. I'll- I'll be alright."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble."

She gave him a quick smile, "No. No really, I'm fine." She stood, slipping off the coat and handing it back to the man, who took it with a concerned expression that she barely noticed. Then she walked away, silent.

Millie didn't know how she got back to the house. She sat at the kitchen table, frozen, unable to do anything. None of it felt real. Henry was dead, who knew how many others. She fingered the pendant hanging from her necklace, a gold cutout of the Aquarian Star her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. She had lost him, in the line of duty, shortly after she got married. He had never even gotten to meet John, and now Henry was gone. How many did she have to lose? Why did this have to happen? Henry was dead. Her brain kept looping through the same cycles, odd thoughts of chores that needed to be done and other casual things, coming back to that sentence at random points like a demented broken record. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't any more. Her eyes didn't have any more tears to give. Why was this happening?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She considered ignoring it. She didn't feel like she could move, let alone carry on a conversation. The knock came again, more urgent this time and she sighed, heaving herself up from the table and walking heavily to the door.

Millie opened it and spoke, her voice flat and tired, "Yeah?" She froze in horror.

Larry Ganem stood on her porch, blood coating his face and his mouth open as he swayed slightly. He reached out a hand, "Millie? Millie is that you?" He felt around, his fingers finally landing on her hair. He ran his hand up her shoulder-length cut to the top of her head, tracing the clip holding the hair back from her face, then moving back down, feeling the curled-under bottom of her hair and running along the shoulder of her grey sweater. She was too much in shock to reply to his question. The world had become a nightmare and she couldn't seem to wake up. She half-wanted to close the door and run out the back, away from death and carnage and endless horror. Run until she could forget that any of it ever happened.

"It is you, isn't it?" He didn't quite seem to be looking at her, and she suddenly realized the reason for his vacant expression, the reason for the blood. Coming to herself, she stepped out of the doorway, slinging one arm over her shoulders, "Yeah, it- it's me. Come on, let's get you inside."

"Thank you."

She helped him inside to the kitchen table, then gently cleaned the blood off his face and poured him a glass of water, which Larry accepted and drank eagerly.

After doing so, Millie walked towards the phone, "I'm going to get you an ambulance."

His head jerked up out of his hands, "No! No hospitals."

She gestured with the receiver, "Larry, you're hurt."

He shook his head, wincing in pain at the movement, "No. We can't risk it. I'll be okay."

"Please let me help you!"

"The best way that you can help me is by not talking to anyone. It's just my eyes. I'll live."

Millie stared at him for a moment in frustration, then set down the receiver with a sigh and walked back to the table.

She sat in the chair at a right angle to him, staring in a vague sort of horror at this wreck of her friend, "Were you at the meeting?"

He paused, "Yeah."

"What happened? How did the fire start?"

He set down his glass, "That was no fire."

She felt confused, "What then?"

"An attack. A demon was inside Josie. It was… it was horrible. Blood everywhere… bodies… so much blood. She killed… everyone."

"How did you escape?"

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow in a scoffing gesture, "You call this an escape?" He paused, "I think she tried to kill me. I don't know why I'm still alive. Sloppy job on her part, I'm guessing. Fortunately, she only got my eyes. I managed to crawl out before the smoke got to bad."

"So there was a fire."

"Yes. Abaddon started it before she left. Wasn't content with just killing us, I suppose." He looked down at the table, clinched fists resting on its surface, as though he needed to compose himself before going any farther, "Oh God, Millie, it was horrible." Millie reached over, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. The whole world felt numb. Thinking of an important task, she stood. "We need to call this in. There could be other attacks. We need to let them know what's going on." She walked over to the phone, flipping through the cards beside it and starting to rotate the dial to put in one of the emergency numbers. She shifted her weight impatiently as the phone rang.

And rang. It kept ringing until she gave up, holding down the button on the top to end the call and dial another number.

Nothing. No one answered, just more ringing.

She tried number after number, finally turning to look at the man at the table, the receiver still held in her hand as she came to a horrifying realization, "No one's answering… I don't think we're the first."