Chapter 4: Time Converter

Séance Room of Mystery Mansion. Wednesday night, November 29, 2006.

Sara tightened her grip on Neal's hand when Seth mentioned Astrena's name. The Rossetti portrait of Lilith on the wall behind him was unnerving. Was the painting somehow linked to Astrena and spying on them? They weren't using the goddess's crystal ball, but nothing could be taken for granted in the Mystery Mansion.

Neal shot her a reassuring smile, but Sara wasn't fooled. What had been a disappearance was now even more ominous. Sam had scratched Astrena's name in the message he'd left in June's mansion. But she assumed it was a sign that one of Astrena's potions was needed to rescue them.

Seth barked a short laugh. "I figured that would grab your attention. You're no strangers to that dark goddess, but I was. Oh, I knew Nikola was working with some witch who was helping him with the orchid potions. I assumed he didn't want to talk about her because he knew we hunters aren't very fond of witches." Seth nodded at Chloe and Maia. "Sorry, girls. Maybe times have changed, but in my day, that's the way it was."

Chloe was white-faced, her lips compressed tightly together. Sara could only guess how much it was costing her to keep Seth's spirit in contact with them. Chloe had never mentioned how long she'd be able to hold him in their plane. Sara's understanding was vague about what the plane was. Spirits appeared to reside in a non-physical world from where—if the witch was strong enough—they could be summoned.

But at the moment Sara was much more focused on Seth's world in 1913—a world where Astrena was on Earth, specifically in Manhattan.

"Nikola admitted Astrena had been helping him since 1890. She had a swanky mansion in Manhattan. They had a falling out in 1906, and that's when his affairs started to go south. When he contacted me, Nikola explained that Astrena fed off mortals. He claimed he didn't know anything about it at the time." Seth swiveled to Neal. "That's something you're familiar with. It's one reason I decided to help you young whippersnappers. Nikola learned that Astrena had targeted an artist in 1913. His name was Albert Gleizes. I'd never heard of him, but I agreed to give it a shot. My blood was boiling at how Astrena might have damaged Nikola. I didn't want her to get her hooks on someone else. I tried to go back. Set the machine, but that damned orchid infusion must not have been the correct one."

"How did Nikola find out about Astrena?" Bobby asked.

"In 1939, he ran into a witch who was familiar with her. The witch's name was Rowena MacLeod."

Sara swallowed. That was the same name as her distant ancestor, but that witch had lived three hundred years ago. This couldn't be the same person. Or could it?

Seth's image started to stutter as Chloe sagged back into her chair. She took several deep breaths through her mouth before nodding to the others to continue.

"Chloe can't hold you here much longer," Maia said, her voice trembling with emotion. "We need to go back in time to rescue Dean and Sam. How do we do it?"

Seth frowned. "You gotta promise me you'll try to save Gleizes too. It's Nikola's machine. We owe him that."

"I give you my word," Henry said. "We'll do everything we can to keep Astrena away from Gleizes. You've read our minds. You know that Chloe and Maia were able to sever Astrena's hold on Neal and Sam. If Gleizes has already been ensnared, they can free him."

Seth locked eyes with Henry for a long moment. Was he reading his mind once more? After a long moment, he said, "All right, I'll do it. But if you get stuck, you'll be on your own. The date's already set."

"How did you manage that?" Bobby asked.

"You use the typewriter to punch in the numerical sequence. I typed 021590131000 with the last four numbers referring to the time of day. That sets the gears. When you're ready to go, you fill the reservoir with orchid juice and then twirl the blue knob next to the typewriter. Anyone who is touching the time converter at the time will be sent to that date. At least, that's what's supposed to happen. To come back, you simply need to drink the same orchid juice. It will whisk you back to the present. Nikola said a couple of swigs should do it. In theory, no matter how long you stay in the past, only a few minutes will have elapsed in your current time. I never tested it so can't swear to it."

"Assuming we have the correct potion, this sounds straightforward," Henry said. "We haven't moved the gears. We'll twirl the knob and go back in time. Since the time should be the same, Dean and Sam will be wherever we appear. Do you know the precise destination spot?"

"Grand Central Station. Tesla picked that spot because the terminal's so crowded, no one will notice a couple of extra people appearing. But don't expect to see Dean and Sam there when you arrive. Nikola warned me that every time he'd used the converter, he noticed a little slippage."

Sara knew Dean had been tinkering on the machine for months. The gears could have been displaced even further. Sam had scratched the date of February 18, but how much earlier had they arrived?

"Nikola also warned me the orchid juice only stays potent for a few days," the spirit continued. "He thought four was the absolute maximum. So don't get sidetracked." Seth paused to survey the group. "Maybe you'll have better luck than me. You got two witches working with you."

"Count on it," Henry said confidently. "When we work together, nothing can stop us."

"Brave words, kid. I hope you're right."

#

Chloe insisted she was fine when Seth's image disintegrated, but Bobby was by her side to support her with his good arm when she tried to stand up.

"I reckon we'll all feel better if we regroup in the living room," he said. "We got a spark of hope but there's a mare's nest of details to sort through. Chloe, you flop on the couch while we get our thoughts in order." He paused to study the others. "Maia, you're not in much better shape. You take the other end. As for the rest of you, you may want to confer with your spouses beforehand. This won't be a stroll in Central Park. Even if you manage to go back in time, you may get stuck just like Dean and Sam. Make sure your heads are on straight, and you're in agreement before we go any further."

Neal was sure he knew what Sara wanted to do, but how about Eric? He was glad to see him and Henry head for their bedroom.

"Let's go to our room," Sara said. "The others need privacy too." After they closed the door behind them, she added, "I know you want to go and so do I."

He drew her into his arms. "We'll be time travelers together. We may even meet that witch ancestor of yours." He could have discussed the risks associated with the attempt, but why? Sara was already aware of them.

"I was sure you caught that reference to Rowena. Rowena's not a common name, but I didn't realize witches could be immortal."

"Perhaps she's a special type of demon-witch," Neal suggested. "We should ask Bobby about her. According to Seth, she told Nikola about Astrena in 1939. She might not be present in New York in 1913."

"But somehow Rowena found out about her. She could be one of Astrena's sisters. Perhaps she had a change of heart."

Neal nodded but he was distracted by all the tasks they'd need to accomplish before their departure. "We should prepare contingency plans in case we don't return," he said.

"And we'll have to acquire appropriate clothes." Sara reached for her cell phone. "I'll give Janet a call."

When they left their room, Henry and Eric were standing in the hallway. Judging from their somber looks, it hadn't been an easy conversation.

"What did you decide?" Sara asked.

"Henry's going," Eric said. "Much as I'd like to go along, I'll stay here."

Neal felt for him. "Making the responsible decision can be the toughest challenge," he said.

Eric nodded. "If you get stuck, someone needs to be ready to rescue you. I'll also be here for our families." He paused and reached down to scratch behind Splash's ears. "Including our doggo. Not that I believe you'll have any trouble returning."

"Good, because we won't," Henry declared. "Don't think for an instant I won't come back to you."

The rawness of their anxiety made Neal appreciate how fortunate he and Sara were that there weren't little ones or pets at home to worry about. They'd discussed the letters they'd need to write. Peter and El, Noelle and Joe, Mozzie, June, Sara's Aunt Celeste. Now they could leave them with Eric and hope he wouldn't have to send them.

They went downstairs together. Bobby had poured himself a Scotch. The women were drinking tea.

"Help yourself to whatever you'd like," Maia said.

Neal and Sara both stuck to sparkling water. Their adrenaline was already racing. They didn't need a boost of caffeine.

"I'm calling this meeting to order," Bobby declared. "Who wants to attempt the trip?"

"Neal and Sara are going with me," Henry said. "Eric is staying to take care of the home front."

"That's a smart decision," Bobby said. "Much as I'd like to go, with this wounded wing"—he lifted his sling—"I'd be a liability. Maia's staying too. There's a strong possibility you won't make it back as quickly as Seth mentioned. With the bookstore and the mansion, not to mention our menagerie and gardens, she's needed here."

"We'll be your backups," Maia said. "Seth believes you'll return in a few hours. If you don't, we'll find another way to bring you back. A variation of the banishment potion is a possibility, but it will need to be reformulated to work on time as well as space. Then Eric and I could use the machine to travel back with the potion."

"Realistically, how likely do you think it is you could succeed in modifying the potion?" Eric asked.

"We have Astrena's grimoire," Maia said. "I can probably adapt one of her potions. As a last resort, I could contact her. I wouldn't tell her you're stuck in 1913," she added hastily. "She believes Sam and Dean are her father's emissaries. Wouldn't she want to help them?"

"We'll convince her of it," Bobby agreed in a growl. "For all we know, that's the reason Sam included Astrena's name in the message he carved."

"Astrena likely aided Tesla in building the machine," Chloe said. "Why else would it run on orchid power? If orchids can control time for the machine, they may have the same effect in a potion."

"I like tinkering with electronics," Eric said. "If we have any issues with the time converter, I can give it a shot." He nodded at Neal. "And if I called Travis, he'd be here in a flash."

Neal chuckled. "I'm surprised you've kept him from the converter up to now."

"That's only because he doesn't know about it," Henry said. "Once he does, he'll want to enlist."

"And not just him," Sara murmured to Neal. "This is the closest thing to a real TARDIS known to exist. When Mozzie finds out we went without him, he'll be inconsolable."

"One problem at a time," he murmured back. "Assuming we succeed in getting back to Manhattan, we can't leave without trying to rescue Albert Gleizes," he said in a louder voice. They'd already promised Seth, but it needed to be repeated.

"Not to shoot down the idea while it's still squawking, but any idea how you'll find him?" Bobby asked skeptically.

"That's the easy part," Neal said. "It's also the same way we can track Astrena, no matter what she looks like or calls herself. Ever since we found the message scrawled in June's mansion, I'd wondered why the year was 1913. Now it makes sense. That was when a famous art exhibition was held in New York City. It's called the Armory Show since it was held in the Armory on Lexington Avenue. It ran from February 17 to March 15. The exhibition was an introduction to what the avant-garde artists in Europe were producing. Cubist and Fauvist works were practically unknown in the States before then. A handful of the artists, including Albert Gleizes, traveled to New York to be present during the show. Astrena wouldn't have been able to resist attending."

Henry nodded slowly. "I assume you know what Gleizes looks like. Astrena should be hovering around him. But what if we're too late and she's already linked to him?"

"Records of the Armory Show mention that Gleizes arrived in town on the 19th of February," Neal said. "I'm counting on persuading him to leave before she attacks."

"We have something that will help," Maia said. "We found a recipe for a potion that eliminates a witch's ability to cast spells for two months. If you can get Astrena to drink a little of it, she shouldn't be able to link with anyone."

"There's only one small problem," Chloe added. "It requires an orchid known as Eurydice's Tears. It's the one Astrena imbues with vampire souls. We don't have any in bloom, and even if we did we don't know how to place vampire souls inside. I'll need to steal one from Astrena's orchid grow room." She looked hopefully at them. "But with your skills, that shouldn't be difficult."

Sara exchanged excited smiles with Neal. "If we can get her to drink it before Gleizes arrives, we'll not only protect him but the other artists in attendance."

"Why can't you just go ahead and banish her permanently?" Eric asked. "Who knows how many lives she ruined between 1913 and now?"

"It's tempting, but you'll have to squelch the idea," Bobby said. "Think about it for a moment. All our lives have been affected by Astrena. If she hadn't been around, Dean and Sam might never have connected with Chloe and Maia. And that's just scratching the surface of the thousands of lives who would be changed." He shrugged. "Some for the worse. Some for the better. I'll go along with a temporary halt to her powers, but we simply can't risk any permanent change. What's done is done."

"In any case, Astrena may not be tempted by many others at the exhibition," Neal said. "Only a few of the artists were present. Most, like Matisse, lent works but didn't attend. Gleizes died unexpectedly during a voyage to Barcelona in 1916. Was that because of Astrena? He was at the height of his career. He'd moved from Paris to New York the preceding year. Had Astrena caused that too?"

Sara gently squeezed his hand. Neal realized he was projecting too much of what had nearly happened to him. He would be dead now if Maia and Chloe hadn't severed the link. His thoughts drifted back to the artist in Connecticut who'd been killed by Alcy's sister.

"If we apply Bobby's standard, then we shouldn't attempt to help Gleizes." Henry pointed out then winced. "And now I'm starting to see similarities to the Prime Directive conundrum in Star Trek."

"I understand the principle," Sara said. "But in a certain sense, the timeline was already violated when Dean and Sam traveled back to New York. I don't think anyone believes we should leave them there. Tesla wanted to save Gleizes. We told Seth we'd do our best to accomplish it for him. If nothing else, just to keep faith with Seth, don't we need to try?"

Bobby was silent for a moment then nodded. "You make a strong case, but try to keep your activities to a minimum. Whatever you do is a gamble. I'd like to see you all back safe and sound . . . and knowing who we are when you return." He paused to take a healthy glug of whiskey. "In comparison with the logjam of other issues, this is just a toothpick, but here's something else to chew on. Dean and Sam were wearing flannel shirts and jeans when they were yanked back in time. They probably didn't look too out of place, but Chloe and Sara? You'd be arrested as women of the night in those short skirts."

Sara was wearing a silk wrap dress that extended to her kneecaps but Bobby had a point. As for Chloe, she was wearing a Bohemian short dress with boots. Not something women in the Edwardian era would be caught dead in.

Sara smiled. "Thanks to Janet, I already have that covered. This past summer she designed the costumes for a revival of The Unsinkable Molly Brown. Many of the scenes in the musical take place on the Titanic. It sank in 1912, about a year before the date in the time converter. Janet's extended the resources of her warehouse for the cause. If we need extra clothes, we can get them there." Neal had already assured her that his and Henry's pickpocketing skills would guarantee them adequate funds.

"Janet's going to drive a van of clothes up to New Haven," Neal added. "She's also bringing suitcases appropriate to the period. Dean and Sam wouldn't leave for a job without having the trunk of the Impala loaded with gear. We'll need to take tools as well."

Henry nodded in agreement. "I've already started a list—lock picks, flashlights. Fake IDs are a must. The FBI didn't exist back then, but Neal and I can portray ourselves as Pinkerton detectives."

"Astrena can't recognize us," Chloe warned. "The damage to the timeline would be enormous if she realized she'd already met us."

"That won't be a problem," Sara assured them. "Janet's also bringing an assortment of wigs and makeup for our use."

"She offered to head to the warehouse immediately," Neal added. "But I told her late tomorrow morning is soon enough. We'll need time to prepare."

"I'll contact Sofia at the office tomorrow morning," Henry said. "I'll explain that a family emergency will keep me away. If all goes well, we'll be back tomorrow close to the time we left and I'll be at the office the following day."

Henry's confidence was catching. This wasn't the time to dwell on the ten thousand reasons they wouldn't make it back.

The Bowery. February 16, 1913.

Dean grinned as he ambled back to Sam's table. He was broadcasting a signal they'd have no trouble paying for their room at the flophouse. Sam took a breath. Their new life in the Bowery. How long would they be destined to live here?

Dean swung into a chair next to Sam at the rickety table and took a swig of beer. "Have I told you recently how glad I am Prohibition hasn't arrived yet?"

"Like ten thousand times, dude. We've been here for three days, and you look like you belong here."

Dean glanced down at his work shirt. "I could easily ditch the suspenders, but I kinda like our newspaper caps. They suit us better than those homburgs."

When they arrived at Grand Central Station, one of the first things they noticed was that all the men wore hats. That is, after their jaws dropped at the date on newspapers—February 11, 1913. Who would have thought the Mystery Machine was a time machine? And just their luck, they'd arrived during a cold spell. It was frigid outside.

Grand Central was wall-to-wall people, and that gave them their first break. Sneaking into the lost-and-found storage room had been simple. Once they had heavy overcoats and homburgs, they blended right in.

Dean was mad at himself for not considering the possibility that Seth's contraption was a time machine. After all, the message Sam had supposedly carved into the stud at June's mansion indicated that somehow they'd go back in time. But when they discussed the message, they figured Astrena was probably responsible.

The wallets he and Dean carried were useless. Credit cards didn't exist and their cash was marked with dates far off in the future.

Luckily, they had a fair sense of the city from all the visits they'd made over the past few years. They filched a few coins from the lost-and-found and took a streetcar down to the one place Dean figured he could make a killing—the pool hall.

Neal had introduced them to Sal's Billiards in the Bowery during their first trip, and they'd gone back several times afterward. They realized it probably wasn't there in 1913 but it seemed like a good location for a pool hall. Sam knew next to nothing about the history of the Bowery but he remembered Neal mentioning it used to be a hangout for vagrants. In other words, the Bowery of the 1910s could be a good spot to lie low while figuring out how to get out of their jam.

He and Dean had been in plenty of rough neighborhoods, but the Bowery was unlike anything they'd ever experienced. Cheap saloons mixed with brothels, flophouses, tattoo parlors, and pawnshops. Hardly any women on the streets except the ones hanging around brothels. Sam was surprised at the number of gay bars. Evidently, the Bowery was one area where the usual prohibitions weren't enforced.

They found the street Sal's was on easily enough. At the billiard parlor's location was the Blue Parrot—a combination saloon and pool hall. It seemed to be particularly popular with sailors, and Dean quickly discovered they were easy marks. Sam joined him at poker, but he wasn't much of a pool hustler.

The owner of the joint was Liam Donovan, but everyone claimed the boss was a blue-and-yellow macaw named Polly. Liam's wife Doris swore he loved that bird more than her. Sam didn't debate the point. After all, a portrait of Polly was on the wall but there wasn't one of Doris. Sam vaguely recalled seeing the painting at Sal's but he couldn't remember Sal's last name. He was second-generation Italian, but it could have been on his mother's side.

Doris took him and Sam under her wing when she heard they were new in town. She was a friendly type who was naturally inquisitive. Over bowls of chili, she quizzed them about their backgrounds.

They'd already invented a plausible account to tell others. When Doris heard they'd traveled here from Kansas, she ascribed their unusual clothes to the Wild West. Dean lay it on thick about how they'd lost their parents. They came to New York for a brighter future.

Doris responded with motherly sympathy, giving them the name of a flophouse where they could get a cubicle for the two of them. Sam helped care for her young sons when she was working in the kitchen, and Dean put his mechanical skill to good use, fixing a recalcitrant beer tap. Within a couple of days, they had a new home. The Donovans' two sons introduced Sam to the macaw. He quickly discovered the bird was quite a mimic. Aided by soda-cracker bribes, the kids taught her to squawk Cowboy whenever Dean or Sam approached her, delighting them and causing the regulars to chuckle.

But none of this helped them return to New Haven. They knew that on February 18, they'd be at June's mansion on Riverside Drive. Was there some significance to that date? They'd taken an elevated train from the Bowery to Columbia University and then hoofed it down to June's mansion. They were surprised that June's neighborhood looked so similar. Many of the buildings at Columbia were the same but there were far fewer of them.

June's mansion was resplendent. Sam remembered Neal mentioned that the place had been completed in 1908. Still to be figured out was how they'd manage to sneak in. Should they wait till the eighteenth to attempt it? Sam's thoughts kept returning to Maia and Chloe. Had they realized what had happened?

"Dude, you should be happier," Dean said, taking a seat at the table as he counted his take. "We got more than enough to live on till we figure out a plan."

Sam didn't bother concealing his frustration. "We don't even know where to start. Carving Astrena's name on the stud was a Hail Mary if I ever saw one."

"Bobby and the girls will figure something out," Dean said confidently.

Sam didn't reply. Dean's optimism kept both of them going.

"Your problem is you worry too much," Dean declared. "That's why you're not sleeping, isn't it?"

Sam grimaced. "Have I been waking you up?"

"Not much." Dean crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. "Listen to me. Consider this a refuge from Azazel. While we're gone, Julia and Ash will work their technical mumbo jumbo to get a location for him. Then Chloe and Maia will concoct a spell to return us to the present, and we'll kill that son of a bitch."

Sam nodded as if he agreed. No need to tell Dean that his nightmares about Azazel were coming even more frequently. Did the demon somehow know where he was?


Notes: Only Crowley knows that before he became a demon he was a Scottish tailor named Fergus MacLeod. He was born in the seventeenth century. Rowena is his mother. In canon, their relationship wasn't an amicable one. Rowena is playing coy about when she'll appear in Crossed Lines, but she plans to eventually.