9

Dean stood on the poop deck again, trying to wrestle his tumbling stomach into submission through sheer willpower. It was daylight this time, but Dean wasn't entirely convinced that being able to see the sea and sky bob up and down in time with the boat's movements helped matters any.

Beside him, Anne stood with his gun, loaded with witch killing bullets, pointed at the deck below. Very discreetly pointed from beneath the wide, flapping cloak she had put on to protect against the December chill. Dean still wasn't entirely sure how she had wound up with his gun. Something to do with the fact that he hadn't found his 'sea legs' yet, which meant that his aim, which was nearly perfect when standing on solid ground, was completely off as long as he was on the tilting, swaying ship.

There had been no target practice range to take Anne to where she could prove herself worthy of joining the hunt, but something about the stern set of her chin and her crossed arms had prevented Dean from arguing with her. Thomas claimed she was an excellent shot and she certainly knew how to hold a gun.

Sam waited with Thomas on the other side of the ship. Thomas wasn't useful in any way. He admitted himself he was a terrible shot and had never held a sword. But he insisted on being part of this. It had been hard enough to convince him to stay above decks and let Hannah go below to fetch the witch alone. Besides, it was a better plan than leaving him alone in the cabin with the vampire chained up there. Thomas still smelled like blood, James said, and the vampire would be getting hungry again soon.

Dean sighed. When had this whole thing gone sideways? It wasn't often that Dean felt bad about killing a monster, but James was making him regret ever having come here at all. Or maybe it was Hannah, with her eyes that reminded Dean so much of Sam, and her desperation to save the only family she had left in the world. She only wanted one thing from them, and it was the one thing they could not give.

Because Dean was pretty sure that the witch didn't have a vampire cure tucked up her sleeve. When they were done here, James would have to die. There was no way around it.

Dean wasn't counting on a miracle. Their angel had fled, and it was probably better that way.

Hannah looked up at Dean and them over at Sam from her place near the center of the ship. With a final nod to each of them, she reached down to open the hatch and clambered down into the passenger area below. Isaac remained on the deck, watching for her return, his gun ready. Hannah was going to offer the witch a trade, and lure her out on deck where the Hunters could shoot here. Isaac had arranged with the captain for the crew to be busy elsewhere. A few of the passengers had gone off to explore the coast, and the rest were tucked away below decks. They could shoot the witch, claim she had slipped, and no one would know any better.

"This is a terrible plan," Dean muttered.

"It is the only one we have. Dorothy will never come to meet with us. She must think it is Hannah alone who wants to talk with her."

"Yeah. I know." Dean hadn't been able to find a flaw in the logic before, either, which is why he hadn't raised an objection. "I still say Dorothy is a weird name for a witch."

Anne raised one eyebrow. "Why?"

"It just—seems more like it belongs to a sweet little girl who likes dogs and just wants to go home." Dean shook his head. "Never mind."

"Well, I hope the little girl was able to find her way home," Anne said.

Dean turned to take a good look at the woman standing beside him. She who had taken one look at strangers from the future, and decided to blackmail them in order to save her family. He should have been mad about that, but he wasn't. In fact, Dean found he liked Anne more and more. She was practical in a ruthless sort of way that reminded him very much of his father.

She also had a dark shadow under her eyes that also reminded Dean of his father. "So, what's your story?"

Anne raised a questioning eyebrow. "My story?"

"Why are you and Thomas out here in the middle of nowhere? Why did you leave home to help build a colony? Why didn't your fiancee come with you?"

Anne turned and looked out over the sea toward the shoreline. "We are Men of Letters, my brother and Thaddeus and I. I know Hunters think that we are useless because we don't go and track down every little monster or spirit, but we have our eyes on a much bigger picture. Tell me, Dean, do the people of the future remember a colony called Roanoke?"

Dean's stomach flipped again, and it didn't have anything to do with the ship. "Yeah. Yeah, I've heard about it. Most people have no idea what happened there, but Sam and I know that it was a demon virus."

"Virus?" Anne repeated the word as if he'd just spoken a foreign language. "It was certainly the work of a demon. Azazel the Prince of Hell and his knight, Abbadon. They thought that they could start the apocalypse here in the New World, and they almost succeeded. The Men of Letters barely got there in time to stop it, and they were far too late to save anyone. Thaddeus' father died in the fight." Anne paused, her expression sad and a single tear slipped down her cheek. "He was a good man."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. We locked the demons away like we always do, but it will only take another few hundred years for them to break free again."

Like we always do? "You—the Men of Letters locked the Yellow-eyed demon and Abbadon up?" That's possible?

Anne nodded. "Yes. Every few hundred years they break free, and we must lock them away again. They are too powerful to kill or lock away forever." Anne's expression hardened. "That is why Thaddeus vowed that next time, things will be different. That is why he is working with Ganz to discover a way to kill a demon. That is why Thomas and I are here. We must make sure that there are Men of Letters in the New World so that when the demon wakes again, we will be ready. We will end this cycle and stop them for good." Anne frowned and turned to Dean. "But you are a Winchester. You should know all of this."

Dean wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. "Yeah, we should have. You don't know how much I wish we could have. But—" Dean paused, the words on the tip of his tongue. Should he warn her that Abbadon would go after the Men of Letters first next time, leaving Azazel free to finish his apocalypse plan?

If he did, would he find a completely different world when he went home? That hadn't worked out too well for Marty McFly

No. It was over and done with. He and Sam and survived, and Yellow-Eyes was dead. After all, if the Men of Letters had been around to stop Azazel, John Winchester would have never gone to find the Colt, and Dean would have never killed the demon for good.

"Things work out a little differently the next time the demon comes around."

Anne smiled, a sharp, fierce smile that any monster with any sense would know to be scared of. "Yes. A gun that can kill a demon and a bullet that can kill a witch. I think I like your future, Dean Winchester. I like it a lot."