12

Isaac stood on deck next to Amos. He was just a cabin boy now, the angel seemed to be gone for good. Amos was still confused and not entirely sure what had happened. He sat with his legs dangling between the rails, staring past his toes into the icy water below.

The mood on the ship had been silent and somber since Dorothy fell overboard and James soared into heaven next to an angel. The shore party had returned, and the captain had told Dorothy's husband about the accident. No one even imagined that poor Hannah had anything to do with it. Isaac had to admit he was impressed; the girl knew how to work a crowd.

"Do you want to go on an adventure?" Amos had raised his head and was talking now, although if his words were meant for anyone to hear, Isaac wasn't sure. "That was all the voice said. I never even saw him. I thought it was a person behind me—but it wasn't. I said 'yes', an adventure sounds nice." Amos stared at his hands, as if not entirely sure they were still his. "Now I am here. What am I supposed to do here? I never wanted to leave England!"

"I will look after you until the ship can return you home." There was no choice but to stay for the winter, but in the spring the Mayflower would journey back home.

Amos looked up at the Hunter. "I can't pay you, and there is no family waiting for me who can pay you, either."

The way the boy said 'no family' gave Isaac pause. It wasn't the way one said, 'my family is too poor to afford it. "You are an orphan?"

Amos nodded and his head sunk deeper into his shoulders. "At least there's no one sitting back home worrying about me. He might have warned me, you know? Before he jumped inside me and took me across the ocean. Someone should teach angels to mind their manners."

Isaac threw back his head and laughed. "I would like to see that. Unfortunately, I do not know how to track an angel. I only know how to track spirits. And monsters." He settled on the deck next to Amos. "You could join me, if you like. I could use an apprentice. I can't pay you, but you'll learn to help people, save lives even. And if we ever see that angel again, I'll help you teach him to mind his manners."

A slow grin spread across Amos face, lighting it up in a way entirely different from the cupid's eager smile. "I would like that, Mr. Campbell. I would like that a lot."

o0o

Thomas and Hannah sat side by side on the poop deck, the December wind whistling around them. James' body had been taken down to the hold to await burial once the passengers finally decided on a place to land. Right now, Hannah had no desire to go back to the quarters where she had lived with her grandfather, and no desire to be in the crowded Winchester cabin. On board a ship crammed too full of people, privacy was best found out on deck, under the open sky.

Hannah did not mind that Thomas had come with her. His hand in hers was a warm and comforting presence. Hannah wasn't completely sure where this relationship was going yet, but Thomas made her feel comfortable and safe. He didn't ask her to talk, simply sat in silence beside her so that she did not have to mourn a lone.

"Men from the future and angels from heaven." Hannah was still trying to understand the events that had happened in the last day. She had teeter-tottered between despair and hope so many times she had lost count. Now it all felt like a dream except for the aching emptiness left by her grandfather's loss and Tom's firm presence at her side. She had lost a family a found a family all in the same day.

"It seems there is darkness in the world that no one can win against."

Thomas squeezed Hannah's hand tight. "There is a lot of darkness, but there are some good things, too. I'll show you, if you like. I'll teach you everything the Men of Letters know. If you—if you wan to stay with us. With Anne and I."

Hannah found that she could still smile through her tears, and nodded. "Yes. I would like that."

Thomas wrapped his arm around Hannah, holding her close, crowding out the chill that threatened to take over her heart.

o0o

"Well, it looks like that cupid was right about Thomas and Hannah." Dean stepped back into the cabin after spying on the couple on the poop deck. Sam was busy filling a large bowl with ingredients. The witch was dead and it was time to go home.

Anne watched from the corner, an expression of surprise on her normally stern face. "You had everything that you needed to create the spell again?"

Dean smiled, contented with the look on Anne's face as she realized that her destruction of their original spell was not the reason the two Hunters had stayed. "We thought it was better to be safe than sorry this time." Dean closed the door to the cabin so that no one would see this next part. "Time travel doesn't often work out the way you expect."

Sam snorted. "No, it does not. I still don't understand why we came here."

"I told you. Anne's going to marry Thaddeus Colt and their descendant will be Samuel Colt."

Sam shook his head. "No, it's not that. I mean—that shouldn't have made a difference to the spell. I put in a filing from the Colt—the gun. The spell wasn't supposed to find Samuel Colt, it was supposed to find the bit of metal that the gun was made out of. It was supposed to take us to the day that piece of metal became the Colt."

Dean rubbed his chin. "Huh. Ok. So why did we land here?"

Anne looked down at the Colt, which lay between them on the table. "What is it made out of?"

"No idea. Whatever alloy they made guns out of back them, I guess." Dean knew how to fire a gun and clean a gun, not how to make one from scratch. "I guess I should have used the comet as an anchor, instead of the gun."

Anne's ears prickled. "The comet? What comet?"

"The Colt was made when Haley's comet was in the sky. It's a comet that comes past earth every 75 years. That's part of why we don't think we can fix it unless we time travel. The comet has something to do with why the gun works."

"The comet." Anne clapped a hand over her mouth, then ducked down and opened her trunk. She reached in and pulled out a small bundle, which she unwrapped next to the Colt to reveal a lumpy bit of metal. They were different shapes, but the same color, and both gleamed in the candlelight with an otherworldly hue. "This fell from the comet."

Sam and Dean both stared at the meteorite in a hushed awe. It was like looking at a sonogram of the Colt, the embryo before it was born. Dean patted the gun.

"There, you see! Someone's been watching out for you for a long time. Don't worry. We'll get you put back together."

Sam stared, with that expression that clearly said he was wondering how he and Dean came from the same two sets of DNA. Then he realized what his brother had implied. "Wait a minute—you want to try again?"

Dean grinned and tucked the Colt into his pocket. He turned to Anne and held out his hand. She grasped it and shook it warmly.

"Thank you for saving my brother."

Dean reached up to touch the rim of his Western had with one finger. "My pleasure, ma'am."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, then stepped between them to draw the symbol on the door. An incantation and a bit of blood, and it glowed with blue light.

Time to go home.