Chapter 5: A Tip of the Homburg

Grand Central Terminal. Sunday, February 16, 1913.

Sara blinked. A second ago, she'd been standing next to the time converter. Now she was in a bustling railway station. Neal, Henry, and Chloe were by her side. They'd arrived at the Grand Central Terminal of nearly a hundred years ago. The vaulted celestial ceiling was brilliant with fresh colors. Sam and Dean probably didn't appreciate that the terminal had only opened to the public two weeks earlier.

Dressed as they were, no one would pay much attention to them. In a way, that was a shame because they were worth a second look. Janet had worked her magic on outfitting them. Neal and Henry wore overcoats over their 3-piece suits. Neal was so fond of his homburg, he planned to keep it.

Janet had picked tailored suits, cocoon overcoats, and small felt hats for her and Chloe. Their wigs were curled and gathered into low buns which wouldn't restrict the all-important hats. The clothes were meant to portray them as members of the prosperous upper-middle class. Henry reasoned that if the con required them to dress down, those clothes would be easily acquired.

They brought suitcases with them. Period luggage was usually made of leather. Theirs were vinyl copies straight from the set of The Unsinkable Molly Brown.

Henry smiled as he pointed to a newspaper stand. "February 16, 1913. That's not the exact date but hopefully it's close enough."

Chloe scanned the crowd anxiously. "I don't see them anywhere."

"We didn't expect to," Neal said and gave her a wink. "You wouldn't want your talent to go to waste, would you?" He was using a calm, reassuring tone but his eyes sparkled with excitement and Sara suspected hers were too. They'd rescue Dean and Sam, save Albert Gleizes, and get a taste of New York City's Gilded Age. For their first joint case as a married couple, what more auspicious omen could there be?

"A few seats aren't occupied in the waiting area," Henry said. "Sara, you and Chloe should make yourselves comfortable while Neal and I head for the bank. Keep a sharp lookout for any familiar faces from 2006. Possibly we arrived before Dean and Sam."

That likelihood was remote but Henry was trying to give Chloe something to focus on. Her anxiety for Dean and Sam was intensifying by the moment. Hopefully, once they found the Winchesters, her nerves would ease.

Chloe worried her lower lip as she watched the men depart. "It's more difficult than I thought," she admitted in an undertone.

"Traveling back in time?" Sara asked hesitantly, not sure what she meant.

"No, it's Henry," she admitted. "He looks so much like Dean." Sniffling, she retrieved a handkerchief from her purse. "Tell me about the bank they're using."

Sara wished she could comfort Chloe about the brothers but feared anything she said would sound like empty phrases. So she sought to entertain her instead. "The only bank we have available." When Chloe gave her a puzzled look, she added in a whisper, "Pockets!"

Chloe's eyes widened. "They won't get caught?"

Sara shook her head confidently. "Trust me, they're experts. They've kept their skill up to snuff by practicing on each other for years." Chloe didn't know about Neal's less-than-legal background, so Sara quickly added in a murmur, "Pickpocketing is a vital skill for undercover work. I've studied the art but I'm a novice compared to those two. We really have no choice, but the guys will minimize the damage. Neal told me they'll only target the wealthy. They plan to take turns. One will steal the wallet and remove some of the bills. Then the other will surreptitiously return the wallet to the 'donor.' "

A small smile crossed Chloe's face. "That's not very different from the explanation Dean and Sam give for using fake credit cards. It never bothered me. They're performing a public service but don't get paid for their efforts. Thanks to Mozzie's investment club and Maia, it's no longer such an issue."

"But it still doesn't seem right," Sara said, latching onto the topic to distract Chloe from worrying about the brothers. "The police are paid to protect the public. Insurance companies are paid to secure property. Win-Win receives lucrative fees for its investigative services."

Chloe shrugged. "We're in a catch-22 situation. We don't want to publicize that ghosts, vampires, and other supernatural creatures exist. Very few realize enchanted objects are real. So trying to advertise our services is a non-starter. Trust me, I've looked into it. Luckily, we don't have any financial worries because of Maia. Electra left her a very wealthy woman. Maia considers the money to be tainted and is glad we can use it to help others."

This wasn't the time to discuss other options, but Sara hoped to once they returned to the present. In the meantime, other matters were front and center, like, for instance, her ancestor. "Have you ever seen a picture of Rowena?"

"No, but one text described her as having red hair." Chloe didn't seem bothered by the swift change in topic. She glanced at Sara's hair. "A family trait?"

"Meaning my family tree has a vein of witchcraft running through it? That's hard to believe." Sara thought for a moment and smiled. "When I was little, I used to claim my mom had a magical gift with a needle and thread."

Chloe eyed her knowingly. "And what color was her hair?"

"Red."

Chloe nudged her with her shoulder. "So, welcome to the family of witches, sister!"

"Thank you! But I'm a poor excuse for one. I don't have a drop of magic in me."

"I didn't think I had any ability either," Chloe confided. "I only found out when I inadvertently summoned the spirit in Buttonwood."

"Is your father gifted?"

Chloe wrinkled her nose. "He'd never acknowledge it. Dad doesn't believe in magic and has lectured me repeatedly about Bridget Bishop being an exceedingly black sheep on our family tree. I think the ability may lie dormant for many generations. Then, when conditions are right, it pops out once more."

"It could be innate in your DNA."

Chloe nodded. "I once watched a Nova program that discussed junk DNA. Nobody knows what it does. Perhaps that's where magical ability is stored."

"What about someone like Rowena? Bobby believes she could be the same witch you'd read about, but how is that possible?"

"I wondered about that too. Bobby said that some witches make bargains with demons in order to increase their powers. Perhaps that's what she did." Chloe frowned. "It's a puzzle, though. Witches don't have unusual lifespans . . . unless you're a goddess like Astrena."

"It's tempting to think she could be one of Astrena's sisters," Sara said thoughtfully. "But that doesn't seem likely since she helped Tesla."

"Perhaps they had a falling out," Chloe suggested. "We know Astrena and her brother loathe each other. This could be something similar. I don't know of any other way Rowena could be immortal."

When Neal and Henry returned, one look at the saunter in their stride, and Sara knew they wouldn't be sleeping on the streets. And what a handsome pair they made. If they wore those clothes in present-day Manhattan, they'd start a new fashion trend. She and Chloe moved their bags so they could sit next to them.

"May we offer you deluxe accommodations in the Waldorf-Astoria?" Neal said.

"Our bank account is more flush than I realized," Sara said.

Henry shrugged. "We found a well-heeled crowd. We took the liberty of booking rooms."

"Based on our research, the Waldorf-Astoria is the only hotel in New York where all the rooms have electricity and private bathrooms," Neal said. "Just because we've gone back in time doesn't mean we should sacrifice civilized comforts. The hotel is also only a few blocks away from the Armory where the art exhibition will take place."

Henry turned to Chloe. "I hope you don't mind that I've booked you as my wife. We're Mr. and Mrs. Henry Gondorff. The room has twin beds and I promise to be a gentleman."

"Dean will like the alias!" Chloe said, her face brightening. "Paul Newman's character from The Sting is one of his favorites."

"Mine too," Henry said with a grin. "Once we find Dean, I'll let him take my place and I'll book a room for Sam and me."

Sara approved of Henry's confident assumptions. He was giving Chloe yet another reason to feel more hopeful.

"I imagine Dean and Sam are living in some flophouse," Chloe said. "The Waldorf will seem like paradise."

"And it's past time we rescued them," Sara declared, standing up. "I've been sitting on this hard bench long enough."

Neal picked up their suitcases. "Then you'll be glad to hear that New York City has taxis and you're about to experience one."

#

Neal had already decided they'd dine at the restaurant in the hotel that evening. The Empire Room was famous for being one of the best restaurants in New York City. The hotel's world-renowned chef Oscar Tschirky had invented Eggs Benedict, the Waldorf-Astoria salad, and many other dishes.

The hotel rooms weren't as large as Neal was accustomed to but the small proportions of the furniture helped to compensate. He and Sara would be cozy in a bed that was supposedly a double but looked more like a large single. After dropping off their bags, he and Sara joined Henry and Chloe in their room.

Neal had witnessed Chloe using a locater potion but for the others, it would be a new experience. She'd brought her scrying equipment from home and had already prepared a potion made with macerated flowers and a few strands of Dean's hair taken from his hairbrush.

Neal laid a map of Manhattan on the Persian rug. The map was modern but he assumed street names wouldn't have changed much in a hundred years. They were counting on Dean and Sam not having left Manhattan.

Chloe lit candles on three earthenware saucers then dipped a silver arrow pendant into the potion she'd prepared. She slipped the chain holding the pendant around her neck then began chanting in Greek. The arrow took on a purple sheen before plunging onto the map.

Chloe gasped with relief. "He's alive!"

"And I bet Sam is with him," Sara said confidently.

Neal smiled as he studied the location on the map.

"You recognize the spot?" Sara asked.

"Where else would a hustler be but Sal's Billiard Parlor!"

"Isn't that the joint close to the Bureau where you used to go during the lunch hour?" Henry asked.

Neal nodded. "It's also where Mozzie keeps his pet rat. It's in the Bowery. I introduced Dean and Sam to the place on their first trip to the city. They often visit Sal's when they're in town."

Chloe blew out the candles. "I'm ready to leave whenever you are."

Neal exchanged a quick look with Sara. "Sorry, Chloe, but you and Sara can't go. The Bowery is no place for you."

"I wish I could go too," Sara said as Chloe stared at them, dismayed. "The Bowery in the 1910s is the seediest place in the city. If we were to waltz in dressed as we are, we'd attract far too much attention."

As Chloe started to speak, Henry jumped in. "Sure, you and Sara could buy clothes at a thrift shop but that would delay us. Your spell pinpointed their location, but they may not stay in one spot. Neal and I can be there in thirty minutes. If all goes well, we'll return with Dean and Sam before dinner."

Neal breathed easier when Chloe reluctantly agreed. Sara suggested they could make use of their time by familiarizing themselves with their surroundings. Their hotel was on Fifth Avenue and 33rd Street, a prime location for people watching and window shopping.

#

Dean watched Sam clean the macaw's cage. Polly was demanding crackers as he replaced the newspaper. He and Sam were helping out with odd jobs. They still didn't have a feel for how they'd manage to sneak into June's mansion on February 18th.

Were Chloe and Maia trying to use a locator potion to find them? Had Astrena taught them a way to return him and Sam to the present? They might have been able to persuade her since she believed they were her father's emissaries. That was Dean's best-case scenario, and it meant they shouldn't roam very far. He was considering asking Liam if they could sleep in the back storeroom at night. He could claim that they'd serve at night watchmen. Liam had already asked for their help in kicking out some lowlifes from the saloon.

Sleeping in the storeroom had to be better than the flophouse they were in. There they only had mats for beds, and sharing one filthy bathroom with thirty other men was literally the pits.

Neither one of them was getting much sleep. The cardboard-thin partitions let every snore, fart, and belch come through loud and clear. Sam was having a particularly tough time. He tossed and turned all night, often murmuring Maia's name. But those weren't the moans of a wet dream. Dean was sure Sam continued to be haunted by Azazel, but he refused to discuss it.

In a weird way, their trip to the past was a gift. As long as they stayed put, Azazel couldn't get to Sam, and it gave Julia and Ash more time to discover where the demon was located.

Dean glanced over at Liam's office behind the bar. He'd been closeted with some dude who arrived an hour ago. The guy was better dressed than most. He had ordinary features, but something about his sharp-angled face made Dean want to tread carefully.

The office door creaked open as Dean took his last swig of beer. He waited till the guy left. Sam was still tending Polly. This was Dean's best chance to make an offer Liam couldn't refuse.

He caught Liam as he stepped out of his office. One look at his face made Dean scrap his strategy. Liam looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Hey, Dean. Do you need something?"

"It can wait. Did that guy threaten you?"

"No, nothing like that." Liam shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."

"I've had experience with helping folks in trouble," Dean said, guiding him back into the office and closing the door. "And right now you look like you landed in some crap. You and Doris treated Sam and me right. I'd like to return the favor and I know Sam feels the same way."

Liam gestured for him to take a seat in a rickety chair next to his desk. "I appreciate the offer, but there's nothing you can do. That man is Mickey Emerson. His kind of lowlife is probably something you boys never had to deal with in Kansas."

"You might be surprised." Dean hesitated on how to explain their experience in terms Liam would understand. "Our dad was the chief of police in Lawrence. That's not a big city by your standards, but we had just about every crime you could think of. Sam and I were cops. Then Dad was killed and . . ." Dean shrugged, figuring he'd said enough.

Liam eyed him sympathetically. "And you wanted to make a fresh start?"

Dean nodded. "That's right. We decided to try our luck in New York City. The memories of our life in Kansas were particularly hard on Sam. He'd just broken up with his girl. I thought a change would do us both good."

Liam arched an eyebrow. "You're telling me you learned how to hustle pool as a cop?"

"Dad was a firm believer in undercover work," Dean said with a grin. "We learned poker and pool from him. We're thinking about joining the police here, but we wanted to get a sense of what life was like here before we settle down. So, what's the deal with Emerson? Is he trying to shake you down?"

Liam shrugged, his eyes glancing down at the worn ledger in front of him. "In a way. Mickey runs a protection racket in the Bowery, Tenderloin, and several other neighborhoods. If I pay, it's not so much that I get protection from thieves, but I'm guaranteed that Mickey's muscle men won't beat me up or my family." He took a breath. "I haven't signed up yet, but I probably will." He shrugged. "Don't have much of a choice."

"Have you spoken with the cops about them?" Dean asked.

Liam made a low rumbling sound in his throat. "Kid, that shows how much you have to learn. Mickey's got the precinct in his pocket."

#

Sam narrowed his eyes at the macaw. "I already gave you two."

"Cracker, cowboy!"

He could swear Polly was grinning at him. To her, the world was simple. She and Doris were the only women in the place. The world was otherwise divided into Pretty Boys, Cowboys, and Tough Guys. Sam had bought a box of oyster crackers to give her as treats, but she wanted to live off them. Somehow he didn't think crackers were on the recommended diet list for macaws. Not for the first time he longed for his laptop . . . and the internet. He'd need to go to the New York Public Library instead.

Dean would probably tease him that he couldn't go a few days without researching something. And he was right. He dug in his jacket pocket for the bag of crackers and placed one on Polly's tray.

"Attaboy, Cowboy!"

Sam snickered. The Donovan kids were working on expanding Polly's vocabulary. They were at school now. He looked forward to helping them with their lessons. Keeping busy with them helped to take his mind off their life back home. Would they ever return? It had only been a few days, but it already seemed like a month.

And that just went to show how messed up he was. Hadn't he been thinking in New Haven that they'd be better off without him in their lives? Now it had happened. If only Dean weren't stuck here too.

All he needed to do was revisit his dreams to know he should stay in the past. Azazel haunted his dreams nightly. Sometimes Sam saw himself as a baby with Dean watching over him, but mainly he dreamed about someone in flames on the ceiling. If not Mom, it would be Maia or Jessica. He'd trained himself to only take brief naps. Most of the time he woke up before Dean. The system wasn't perfect, but so far Dean hadn't caught on.

When the front door opened, Sam closed the door to Polly's cage. Only a few sailors were here at the moment. They were playing poker. Dean would probably join in. Sam should too. He wasn't a bad poker player.

He turned around to check out the new arrivals. Not their usual customers. Those homburgs and overcoats belonged on Fifth Avenue. The men walked through the saloon, heading for the pool parlor.

Sam gulped, speechless. Neal and Henry? Even Polly stared at them.

Neal flashed a megawatt smile at him. "We came a long way to find you."

"Cracker, Pretty Boy!" Polly squawked.

Henry laughed. "Sorry, we didn't know there was an admission charge. Sam, I see you're doing all right for yourself. Guess we'll be ambling back."

"Oh no, you don't!" Sam said, finding his voice. He grabbed their hands. "Man, am I glad to see you! Did Astrena help?"

Before they could answer, Dean joined them at the table. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you two flashy dudes entering the joint."

"Just wait till you see who's waiting for you at the hotel," Neal said. "Could we interest you in a taxi ride up Fifth Avenue?"


Notes: My Pinterest board has photos of what rooms at the Waldorf-Astoria looked like in this period. The hotel was torn down in 1929 to make way for the Empire State Building. A new hotel was built in 1931 on Park Avenue—the current Waldorf Astoria New York.

Sal's Billiard Parlor was featured in Witches' Sabbath.