Legacy

"Hey, Gina, it's me."

"Dean! Shit, where have you been? I've been calling you for two days!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It took me a while to find it. Had to crack the passwords on three of my dad's old phones to find the GPS location, and the Impala uses gas like you wouldn't believe—"

"I can't believe you found a gas station…wait, what are you talking about? Where are you?"

Dean swallowed thickly. "The Bunker."

"The bun—what? Are you serious?"

"It's true. My god, it's all true." Dean ran a hand through his hair nervously, staring at the tabletop he'd heard about so many times. SW. He ran a finger across his father's initials, having to fight back tears.

DW. The uncle that his dad mourned every day of his life.

MW. The grandmother he never knew.

Castiel. The angel.

Jack. Dad's first "son." And…the new God, apparently.

"Holy shit," he murmured.

He'd listened to all of his dad's stories, all the adventures, stopping the end—ends?—of the world, fighting demons and angels, Hell, Lucifer, even God Himself…but in the back of his mind he'd always doubted. Always wondered if maybe his dad was just trying to scare him, or was just a little nuts.

He knew about PTSD; he'd seen enough of his friends come back from Korea with that and worse. So, he knew his father had been through something terrible, and that it followed him his whole life. Psychology class in college had convinced him that maybe his dad had just invented those stories about Hell to cover up whatever he'd really seen.

But, Dean couldn't dismiss what he was seeing. The Bunker, the old books on monster lore. He was standing in the middle of his dad's former life, and there was no denying the truth.

"Dean? Dean! Are you still there?"

Dean snapped out of his wonderment. "Yeah…yes. I'm here."

"You're really in the Bunker? Your dad wasn't making it up?"

"Apparently not."

On some level, he had wondered, even hoped. That's why he'd sought out Jodie Mills and started digging through his dad's stuff in the first place.

"You have to get out of there. Come home. Please." She sounded scared.

"Gina…I can't." Dean inhaled deeply, then blew it out. "I have to do this."

"This is crazy."

"Robby needs my help. That—that…thing, whatever it is, is after him. He can't hide in my dad's panic room the rest of his life."

"Dean—"

"He's been my best friend since I was six, Gina. It's like dad used to say, 'family don't end with blood.' I can find something here that can help him and I'm going to."

He heard her resigned sigh on the other end of the line. "All right. Send me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can."

That brought him up short. "What?"

"Robby's my friend, too, ya know? Besides you're not a…hunter, or whatever, so you're going to need help."

"You know, my dad always liked you. I guess now I know why."

"Yeah, yeah, because I'm as crazy as you are. Text me the address."

Dean hung up and did as he was told, then looked around the room. There were dozens, maybe hundreds, of books on the shelves. He'd have to find out what, exactly, was after Robby, and how to stop it. If it could be stopped.

He walked down one of the hallways. The place seemed like a maze inside. He hoped it was easier to find his way around than it looked. Curious, he opened a few doors as he moved. Closet. Kitchen. Bathroom. A den/bar with a massive old-style television and a Scooby-Doo blanket draped over the sofa? What the hell?

The next room was merely a bedroom, and he almost moved on, but something made him stop. Dean stepped inside, glancing around. There was familiarity here. The neat desk. The military-precise way the bed was made…it was his dad's room. He knew it in his bones. His eyes welled up again.

"Hey, Dad," he whispered. "Don't be angry, okay? I know you wanted to keep me away from all this. But I have to do something to save Robby."

Dean huffed a small laugh. Apparently, Heaven did exist, after all. Maybe his father would hear him. He continued his impromptu prayer. "So, if you can help me out…I don't really know what I'm doing here."

He knew how to protect himself, but just laying salt circles and drawing sigils wasn't actual hunting. He'd never seen a real monster.

His prayer received no response, but he didn't really expect one. The dead didn't suddenly appear with all the answers, right? Besides, he'd made sure his father was cremated, just as he'd been ordered, even though he hadn't fully believed in the reason at the time.

Sam Winchester wasn't in that room.

Sniffling, he moved back into the hall. It was Dad's room. Gina would say he was nuts, but he felt the memories in that spot. He gave it one last, long look before moving on. God, I miss you, Dad.

Dean steadied himself, and kept searching. One of these rooms had to be the Armory. He just hoped everything he'd heard about was still there.

END