Chapter 32
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, 17th January 2012
"God, I'm exhausted," Dean complained, pouring some coffee into his mug.
"You've said that about ten times now," Sam pointed out.
"And ten times now, you've ignored my plight," replied Dean petulantly.
John was already sitting with them, and beside him, as was Bobby. They were both quietly discussing the best way to take down a Djinn. The last week had been tough. The boys appreciated their father's help with the whole Eve situation, but things weren't smoothed over completely yet. Even though they had sort of made up after he chewed Dean out for being basically a human sacrifice to get Eve. He thought back to the argument he had with his sons.
Looking back, he was a goddamn asshole. Here he was, back five minutes, and he was taking over. They were right. These thoughts took over John's brain as the boys, he and Bobby finished breakfast and walked toward the Demonology classroom. It was a miracle that they were even letting him sit on today's lesson, Reapers.
The students started trickling in a few at a time and Dean started to pull out the memories.
First, there was Tessa the night that his Dad died, oh and let's not forget the time that Dean himself became Death. Of course, with their backgrounds what Reaper wouldn't want to follow them around? He-heh… our groupies…. He thought to himself.
John was sitting in the doorway of the office observing them silently. Sam was checking the slides that he had prepared to give the students a better visual aid and Dean had a stick to his forehead and was pulling out a glowing silver thread. Both were totally at ease being here in this strange place. He had to admit, when Sirius first told him that he was a wizard, he didn't know what to think. In his line of work, nothing really surprised him anymore. He had a brief knowledge of wizards but most of it consisted of normal people using demonic rituals to gain supernatural powers. But he had searched for all the usual signs but yielded no results. The boys had told him that it was in their blood, literally. Like they had hunting in their blood.
It made sense, but he was still sceptical, today was his first day observing the class, he would pass judgement after that.
"Okay class, before we begin our lessons today, we have a special guest to introduce you to." Dean motioned for John and Bobby to come down and meet the students. "You already know the expert Bobby Singer; he's sat in on a few of our lessons. This is our father, John Winchester. He taught us everything we know about hunting."
John came to stand beside his son awkwardly but tried to maintain that 'strict father/teacher' face. The students shuffled in their seats uncomfortably.
"Alright everyone, today's topic is…" Sam called out imitating a drum roll on the projector, trying to alleviate the tension. "Reapers." A slide rolled onto the screen with the word Reaper on it and a depiction of an ordinary man dressed in a black suit.
The class murmured and most started scribbling down notes on their parchment. A hand flew into the air.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"I thought Reapers were dressed in black cloaks and wielded scythes."
"Well, that is one depiction of them, but in our line of work, this is what they look like. I guess they modernized with the times. Basically, Reapers are invisible to humans unless the person is near death or in spirit or astral projection form, so no one really knows exactly what they look like," Sam explained.
"And by the way, Death did have a scythe, he just lost it, believe it or not," Dean said, remembering the old Horseman with a strange love of fast food. "Met him a few times." Hoping this would give him some street cred with the students.
"You've met Death?" Malfoy said incredulously.
"Yep," Dean replied simply, a stupid grin on his face. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Those who can see them, don't live to tell the tale, or are either in our line of work." Dean cut in. Sam switched slides and there was a ton of information on it, the first one being that Reapers are invisible.
"Reapers are able to stop time and are capable of altering human perception to make themselves appear any way they want."
"Like in the example, we are going to show you." Dean gestured to the Pensieve.
"Reapers are vulnerable to Death's Scythe. Death's Scythe is a special weapon used by Death that kills Angels, Demons, and Reapers." Sam explained before Hermione could raise her hand to ask. "They can be bound using spells and Enochian Runes. Enochian is the language of Angels. And they can also be possessed by Demons, but only by powerful Demons." He turned off the projection screen. "Does anyone know what level of Demon would be able to possess a Reaper?"
Hermione's hand shot up while everyone else looked away from Sam.
"Come on," Bobby spoke up. "You kids have good heads on your shoulders. Don't let Granger do all the work for you." Hermione lowered her hand with a small frown, looking at Harry and Ron. A slightly shaking hand raised slowly. Bobby called on him and the boy spoke quietly. "What did you say, boy? I'm old, and I don't hear well."
"A-a yellow, uh- or white-eyed demon. Sir?" Neville Longbottom's face turned as red as his silk tie, wishing he hadn't spoken at all.
Bobby smiled, nodding. "That's right."
"Great job Neville. Ten points to Gryffindor." Dean congratulated him as the boy returned Bobby's smile.
"And now that the boring nerdy stuff is over let's get to the fun part." Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them together. "Some backstory on this. We were in a car accident while Sam and Dad were driving me to a hospital because I was already hurt. A semi-truck hit us, and we all ended up in the hospital. I was in a coma, and they said I was gonna die. I was a disembodied spirit, and I had an encounter with a Reaper. Line up."
The students got into a line quickly and entered the Pensieve. The Winchesters shared a grave look as they took in the scene. Sam and his father were arguing. Dean's spirit stood a few feet away.
"I said SHUT UP!" Dean yelled over them and smacked a glass of water from the table, and it crashed to the floor. Sam and John looked at each other. Dean looked stunned.
"Blimey," Ron frowned.
"Yeah, oh and by the way, they can't see me." Dean nodded.
"Dude, I full-on Swayze'd that mother," Dean muttered. He suddenly crumpled in pain, flickering. Nurses and doctors ran by the door.
"What is it?" Dean managed to choke out.
"Something's going on out there," John said, jerking his head for Sam to go and find out. They left the room and Sam arrived at Dean's room and stopped. Monitors were beeping, a doctor and some nurses were surrounding Dean, performing CPR on him. The paddles were applied, and Dean's back arched from the electricity. Sam was in the doorway, tears in his eyes and he spoke shakily.
"No," be breathed.
"Still no pulse," the nurse reported.
"Oh, my goodness." A Gryffindor girl gasped.
Dean put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, your teacher is alive and well today," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Okay, let's go again, 360," the doctor said.
"Charging," the nurse said, and the doctor shocked Dean again.
Sam was still in the doorway, crying. Dean came up behind him. He saw a ghostly figure floating over himself in the bed.
"That was the first time I had ever seen a Reaper." Dean frowned. "Scared the hell outta me."
"You get the hell away from me. Stay back!" he yelled, approaching as his body was shocked in the bed again.
"I said get back!" Dean yelled.
Sam blinked, looking like he heard something. Dean grabbed for the thing, and he latched on momentarily before it hurled him at the wall and then soared out of the room. The monitors slow, quiet.
"We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm," the nurse said. Dean ran into the hallway, looking for the spirit. Sam sighed in relief and backed into the hallway. Dean came back and stood beside him.
"Don't worry, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting that thing before it gets me. It's some kind of spirit, but I could grab it. And if I can grab it, I can kill it," Dean said gently.
The scene changed to another hospital room. Dean and a dark-haired woman were standing in the middle of the room.
"That was the Reaper that was trying to take me. I guess she wanted to take on a hands-on tactic." He grinned. "Plus, she was really hot…."
"So, I guess that was her changing her appearance to suit the person?" Malfoy drawled as he rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Mr Malfoy, but she had been masquerading as a lost soul that I was trying to help."
"Hi, Dean," Tessa said quietly.
"You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that Reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, uh, a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last Reaper I met," Dean frowned.
"I was wondering when you would figure it out," Tessa replied.
"I should have known. That whole 'accepting fate' rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body, I'm still trying to figure that one out."
"It's my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want," Tessa smiled.
The memory blurred slightly and refocused.
"There's no such thing as an honourable death. My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die! No. I'm not going with you, I don't care what you do," Dean frowned.
"Well, like you said. There's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."
"What are you saying?"
"Dean. How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go, and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt. It's time to put the pain behind you."
"And go where?" Dean asked.
"You were gonna go with her," Sam said, more to himself. Dean sighed.
"I didn't think I had a choice."
"Sorry. I can't give away the big punchline," Tessa replied with a compassionate smile. "Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. So, what's it going to be?"
"This is how vengeful spirits are born," John said to no one in particular. "Some say it's unfinished business, I say it's the inability to move on."
The memory once again changed. Now they were standing in a convenience store.
"Here I asked Death for his help with something. In return, I had to wear his ring for a day. I gained the powers of Death himself, not just a Reaper, but it's a good example of how it works. He's like a Reaper on steroids." Dean explained. "Tessa, the Reaper I met after the accident, helped me."
A robber was pointing his gun at the cashier, who was standing behind the register with his son. "Come on! Come on! Let's go!" he commanded.
"They can't hear you. They can't see you. Just let this play out." Tessa told Dean.
"Well, who am I taking?" Dean asked.
"Wait and see."
"You want me to shoot the kid?!" the robber yelled. "Hurry up! Oh, you think I'm kidding? And don't forget the drawer under the register. Come on, move it! Let's go!" Suddenly the cashier pushed a bag off the counter onto the floor, and while the robber bent to pick it up, he pulled a gun out of the drawer under the register. He pulled the trigger and the man fell to the ground. Dean didn't move.
A few students jumped at the sound of the gun. "Sorry about that. Should have warned you." Dean mumbled. "Just so you know, I kinda got a little power drunk here."
"Hello? Tick-tock," Tessa frowned impatiently.
"He's in agonizing pain, right?" Dean asked.
"Uh, yes," Tessa almost rolled her eyes.
"Give me a minute." After a moment, Dean touched the man's arm. He went limp and his spirit appeared beside Dean and Tessa.
"Why?" the spirit asked.
"Mostly because you're a dick. Enjoy the ride down, pal. Trust me — sauna gets hot," Dean smirked a little.
There was a whoosh as they exited the Pensieve.
"That's basically everything we need to see," Dean said. Hermione put up her hand.
"Yeah?" Sam asked.
"Sir, are there any distinguishing features of a Reaper that are present in their human forms? Like a way to tell a normal person from a Reaper in human disguise?"
"Well, you are the only one that can see them if you're dying, or dead. They will only talk to you," Dean explained.
"Sir, the true form of a Reaper is similar to a Dementor," Harry said, raising his hand.
"What's a Dementor?" John asked. A shudder went through the class.
"They make you relieve your worst memories by sucking the happiness out of you," Harry said.
"Sounds awesome," Dean muttered sarcastically. "Reminds me a little of the Shtrigas though." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John scowl. He remembered the night the Shtriga came for Sam and John had stopped it. They never talked about it again. John never even added it to his journal. The journal! Dean rummaged in his bag.
"Oh, here Dad," he said, handing him the old, worn leather journal. The bell rang, signalling the end of class.
"Okay guys, homework," Sam called out and everyone groaned. "Write a short essay on Reapers. Around 12 inches of parchment."
"Well?" Sam asked, turning to look at his father. "Good enough for you?" There was a sarcastic edge to his tone.
"Sam…" John sighed. "You boys are doing great. I'm sorry for everything I did."
"You ought to be," Bobby grumbled. "These boys are heroes, idjit." Dean didn't speak. The kids left the room with an abundance of chatter. The silence that was left was broken by the sound of fluttering wings. Castiel appeared by the doorway, stumbling.
"Cas?!" Dean exclaimed. "Hey, buddy, what's wrong. What happened?"
"It is done, and they have risen and are here," Cas stated mysteriously, putting a hand to his forehead with a groan of pain.
"Cas, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked incredulously. "Who's here?"
"The war is growing more dangerous. More hunters are needed. The decision has been made to raise hunters from the dead to help with this war."
"More people back from the dead?" Dean said with a raised eyebrow, looking back at John.
"Who?" Sam asked.
The door opened and two women entered. They were around the same height. One of the women had long brown hair, brown eyes and was wearing a grey jacket, black tank top and jeans. The younger woman had long blonde curls framing her beautiful face. She looked around twenty-five years old with hazel-coloured eyes.
"Hey boys," Ellen Harvelle smiled. Sam and Dean's eyes were wide.
"Jo, Ellen?" John asked.
"John Winchester," Ellen replied, looking from the shocked sons to their father. "Never thought I'd see you topside again."
Dean and Sam's minds were in whirls. Jo and Ellen were alive, and according to the trench coat wearing Angel, they wouldn't be the only ones coming back.
"You gonna just stand there?" Jo said, raising an eyebrow.
"Jo," Dean breathed, walking forward. He walked up to Ellen and pulled her into a hug.
"C'mere boy," Ellen smiled at Sam as she released Dean. Sam walked forward and hugged her.
Meanwhile, Dean turned to Jo and lifted her chin, moulding his lips to hers. Jo's lips twitched and mashed themselves to his even closer. Sam pulled from Ellen's hug to see Dean and Jo's lips locked. He smiled. He knew it. Those two flirted so much and they both had it bad. They separated and Dean noticed Sam's smile.
"Shut up," he said before Sam could say anything. Ellen cleared her throat.
"Only been back five seconds…" She muttered to herself. "So, boys, how did it go?" Ellen asked.
"The Colt didn't work," Dean sighed. It had been for nothing. The Hellhounds, the bomb… Jo smiled a little at Dean, seeing him staring. "I'm good as new," she said, lifting her tank top to reveal smooth skin where there used to be a gouge in her stomach.
"Good," Dean replied, relieved.
"It would be nice to have some help since Crowley is helping the other side," Sam stated.
Across the room, the blood pounded through Bobby's veins as he saw Ellen. The gruff hunter had a soft spot for her, and in the few months before her death, she and Bobby had begun talking a little. They seemed to click at once. Ellen was a match for Bobby's smart-ass attitude.
Castiel stepped forward.
"The others will be here soon."
"Others?" Sam asked.
"Other hunters," Castiel elaborated.
"That'd give us an advantage," Jo said.
"True, but who are you bringing back?"
"Ash, Caleb, Pastor Jim Murphy and Mary Winchester," Castiel said.
The three Winchester men's jaws dropped.
"Mom?" Dean said in a shocked tone.
"Yes," Castiel replied. "She along with everyone else should be here momentarily." Cas vanished without a word.
"They're bringing back hunters. Mary never knew anything." John scowled after a long moment.
"Dad," Dean sighed, wondering how best to break the news to his Dad. "Mom was a hunter. Her whole family was. She hated hunting. She wanted to hide it and have a normal apple pie life."
"Samuel and Deanna raised her in the life," Sam explained. "Look, if what Cas is saying is true, Mom can tell you." Hope flared in his heart. Could his mother really be alive again? He had only got fleeting glimpses, old photos, second-hand memories of her. Nothing to tie himself to her personally. But to actually see her and touch her?
Dean was already gone. He threw open the door and as it closed shut behind him, he came face to face with his mother for the first time in almost thirty years. Mary was wearing the same clothing in which she died, a simple white nightgown. She looked bewildered and scared. Dean approached her carefully. Her eyes locked on him, not even taking in her surroundings. He reached out his hand to touch her, see if she was actually real, that it wasn't some cruel trick. Suddenly, Dean found himself flipped and, on the ground, her foot on his neck.
"Where am I? Who the hell are you?" Mary demanded.
"I'm Dean. Winchester. I'm your son." Dean grunted, wincing in pain. And a little surprised she flipped him so easily.
"No." Mary frowned, confusion settling in. "My Dean is 4 years old."
"I was when you died," Dean replied, breathing shakily.
Mary gasped suddenly. The weight on Dean's neck disappeared as Mary stepped back in shock, her blue eyes wide. Memories flashed through her mind. John in his chair, Sammy alone with some mysterious figure… The yellow eyes… Burning…
Dean got to his feet and stared at his mother. Mary was staring into space, frozen. He could hear the sounds of footsteps far behind him.
"Mom?" Dean began quietly. "Listen to me. Your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas," Dean explained.
"How do you know all that?" Mary whispered, still trying to process what was going on.
"Dad told me. March 23. 1972, you walked out of a movie theatre, Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine, and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh, Mulroney's, and you talked, and he was cute, and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that you met –" Dean continued, tears in his eyes.
"John Winchester," Mary interrupted. The footsteps were getting louder.
"August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea. A few years later, I came along, then Sammy."
"And then I burned," Mary said finally. "How long have I been gone?"
"Twenty-eight years." Mary walked forward and touched Dean's cheek.
"Dean," Mary whispered. She saw bits of her young son in this man's appearance. His bright green eyes, his light hair, a mischievous grin.
"Hi, Mom," Dean replied with tears in his eyes. They hugged for what seemed like a long time.
"Come on…" Dean said eventually. "Dad and Sam are waiting to see you. Mary nodded tearfully.
They turned to go back the way they came when two figures jogged into view. Mary looked to the tall younger man but didn't recognize him. The older man to the side, however… "Mary," John whispered with tears in his eyes. Mary's eyes widened.
"John?" she whispered as she ran forward, she threw her arms around John's neck and kissed him deeply. Dean followed, smiling at his brother. They knew their father needed this moment too. John stared in shock as tears rolled down his face. John held her as if she were made of nothing but porcelain. He kissed her softly on the lips. All his life he had wanted his wife back. Now he had her in his arms, he didn't know what to think. There was just the mind-blowing happiness that filled his entire being. Sam and Dean looked on, wiping their tears on their sleeves.
Mary and John broke apart after a minute, and she looked to her sons.
"I probably look a little different from the last time you saw me." Sam's ears turned pink as Mary appraised him. "Sammy…" She encased both her sons into a hug only a mother could give. Sam buried his face into her soft blonde curls, something he had never forgotten about her. The tears came, but Dean didn't give a damn as he joined the hug. He and Sam clutched their mother tighter as they let their emotions go. Sam looked into Mary's face, which had happy tears running down her soft pink cheeks.
"My babies," she whispered. She kissed both of them on the cheek. She looked to the man behind her sons and her face broke out in another tearful grin.
"John," she said, and Sam and Dean let go.
"Why did you never tell me?" John whispered to his wife.
"You didn't need to know. I thought I could escape the life. I'm so sorry John, I should have told you," Mary said regretfully. She had taken herself away from her boys for almost thirty years. But there was nothing that could be done about it now. All she could do was be there for them. They walked back to the classroom. A minute later the door opened again.
"Buenos Días bitches!" they heard a voice say, and they turned to see Ash grinning at them as they came through the door.
"Ash," Sam and Dean grinned.
"The one and only," Ash smirked. "I see you've tried not to get yourselves killed since I last saw you." Sam laughed.
"Come on," Sam said. "We better talk this all out."
