A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading. Your responses made a welcome change to staring at rain. By the way, Future!Sam and Dean are supposed to be sometime post season ten/eleven. I have not seen either season, but have seen a little bit about it on the internet and plotlines may be referenced. Also, I know there will be canon backstory in season 11: Episode 8 "Just my Imagination". If someone could summarize the flashbacks/backstory revealed for me when it happens I would be immensely grateful. CarverEdlundtheLast: You're welcome. I'm so glad you liked it! To explain, Sam recognizes the adult versions because he has been having premonitions for the past year and a half, many of which focus on events covered on the show. To him, seeing these guys is completely normal, whereas Dean at this point has basically no experience with the supernatural, and is the only one in the room who is freaking out. ncsupnatfan: Oh yeah. Lots of great Cas interaction coming up. ;) Anyway, Michael's goal here is much the same as it was the last time we saw him: Prevent civil war without allowing Raphael to gain the upper hand. He's trying to buy himself time, no angels will be expecting his intervention, so hopefully they will not think to search elsewhere in time. If he can, he wants to find Raphael, convince him to call off the goons, and bring Sam and Dean back without anyone noticing that anything has happened. MaraDixon413: Hello again! Great to hear from you and so glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Hang in there because it really isn't going to get any more normal anytime soon. As I tried to indicate with the "Finale" thing, several plot threads are coming to a (sort of) close, some of which, like the Michael/Raphael storyline, have not been touched on for a long time. So… hang onto your hats, it's going to get bumpy.
I do not own Supernatural or its characters. Any and all non-canon background characters are mine. I hope you all like them.
Chapter 28: Wayward Sons
"Here, drink." Dean looked up at his older self, then at the glass the man had just placed on the kitchen table. "What is it?"
"Water. Come on, you gotta be thirsty." Dean stared at the glass, still a bit unsure. He was thirsty. Finally, throwing caution aside, he grabbed it, guzzling it while it was available. He was a bit surprised. It tasted a lot better than any of the motel water he'd ever had. His older self visibly relaxed. He turned back towards Sam, once again standing in the corner. Sammy sat on the floor nearby, happily playing with a spoon. "He's clean," older Dean announced.
"Clean of what?" The adults glanced at him, then returned to talking between themselves.
After a few minutes of murmuring they sidled over to sit at the table with him. Sam spoke, "Hey Dean. So, uh, we need to ask you some questions."
Dean's hands tightened around the glass. "What about?" he asked, looking from one unreadable face to the other. Older Dean was the next to speak, "How did you get here? I mean, no offence, but this isn't exactly normal."
Dean shrank into the chair. He had been so scared, and the last thing he wanted to think about was how he had gotten there. He sighed, "This has got to be the weirdest thing that ever happened to me."
His older self spoke, "Yeah, well, welcome to the main show." They stared at Dean expectantly.
He glanced at them uneasily, "I don't wanna talk about it."
Sam's expression softened, "It's okay. Just tell us what you remember. We're here for you." The boy glanced at him in confusion, wondering if Sam normally talked to him like that. Then he looked down at the table, "it was the man."
They spoke eagerly, at the same time, "What man?"
Dean looked back at them, "He was scary. He just," Dean drew in a breath, "I think he just appeared in the room. But no one can do that. He couldn't have- I don't think he was a man." The last sentence came out as almost a whisper, as though he was unwilling to make it real by saying it.
The pair exchanged alarmed glances, then older Dean leaned forward, "What did he do?"
"He- had this knife. He cut his arm and started putting the…blood…all over the bathroom door."
Older Dean dug a pad of pad of paper out of his pocket and drew a symbol on it, holding it out for Dean to examine, "Is this what he drew?"
Dean shook his head, "No. It looked nothing like that. And then he stuck feathers all over it. We appeared here when he touched it."
Older Dean turned to Sam, "Didn't Henry say something about angel feathers being used for spells?"
Sam spoke, "Did he… say anything?"
Dean sunk down farther. He didn't want to go any deeper into the memory.
His older self's voice jerked him back to reality, "Hey! Dean! Come on, this is important. I know it sucks but Dad would want you to be a man right now. Answer the question."
Dean thought back, trying to remember something besides fear, "He- he said we were in danger. That I have a burden I shouldn't have to deal with. What did he mean by that?"
Something flickered across older Dean's face, some emotion Dean couldn't quite decipher.
Sam spoke again, "Did he say what was after you?"
Dean swallowed, "He said his brother wanted us. He was sending us to someone 'cause he couldn't trust his own guys. They're all taking orders from-" He paused, unsure how the name was pronounced.
"From who, Dean?"
"R- Ra- Ra-"
Older Dean leaned forward, his eyes widening in alarm, "Raphael?"
Dean nodded. Then his own eyes widened as he remembered, "Oh! He said to tell you Michael sent us. I think that must've been his name."
They looked at each other again, then got up and walked across the room. Young Dean couldn't hear the exchange that followed.
Dean's voice dropped to a whisper, not wanting his child self to hear, "Michael can swing time travel with just a touch, so why the hell is he using a spell?"
"I don't know."
"Really Sam, what the hell."
"I don't know."
"I mean, come on! Seriously, for once the world stops ending for five minutes, and this happens!"
"Dean…"
"Don't 'Dean' me! We just saved the freaking world AGAIN, I think we're entitled to a break!"
The angry whispers were interrupted by a tug on Dean's pants. He looked down into the large puppy dog eyes of Sammy, "What is it, dude?"
"I wet." The toddler whimpered.
Dean sighed, "Right." He craned his head toward the table. Little Dean was gone. Great. He really didn't want to change any more diapers. Ever. He looked back down at the toddler, then got an idea. Picking Sammy up, he shoved him into Sam's arms, "Here."
"Dean, what-"
"I've done this enouph times. Change your own damn diaper for once in your life." He turned and left the room, not giving Sam time to protest.
Sam held the toddler at arm's length, thoroughly alarmed and confused, "Dean. DEAN!" He looked back at Sammy, swallowing nervously.
Michael got to work the instant the children disappeared. No sign of his work could remain. With a flick of his wrist the lightbulbs were repaired and the symbol was gone. He glared at the door where it had been. He didn't like spells, they were far too messy and unpredictable. Unfortunately, using his grace had not been an option. He could not risk leaving his signal for others to find. They might not know it was him, but it would be far too easy for them to discover the location of the vessels, and that was not something he intended to allow to happen. His hope was to hide the children in the future long enouph to find Raphael, who had taken a vessel and was somewhere on earth. Perhaps Michael could talk some sense into him. Remembering the child's bullet, he pushed grace to his vessel's chest, as well as to the cut on his arm, feeling the wounds close up and heal. He looked around the room one last time, then departed. He didn't have much time. He had to get his vessel home. The man was strong, but not enouph, and if Michael stayed in him much longer he might start to burn. He would find Raphael, deal with the situation, return to the man's home, wipe his memory, and leave him.
John slammed the door to the Impala, stalking over to the man on the other side of the dirt road, lazily leaning against a pickup. He spoke as John approached, "Took you long enouph to get here."
"Yeah, well, I was three states away. I was on a hunt, Bobby."
"Hey, you don't want human contact, don't call me for info."
"Fine. Now what is so important you couldn't tell me on the phone?"
John watched as the man leaned into the cab, grabbing a newspaper and handing it to him, "See for yourself."
John eyed him inquiringly, then, responding to a raised eyebrow and a nod, looked back at the newspaper.
Bobby spoke, "Forty-one tornadoes, all over Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, and Ontario. Happened a couple of days ago, on the 31st."
John looked at him, "You think it's a case?"
Bobby inclined his head, "That much tornado activity ain't normal. This is something all right, something big."
"Any idea what's in the middle of all this?"
"Yep. Ontario and New York share a small strip of border. Almost nothing, can hardly see it on a map. But it is right smack in the middle of all of it."
John sighed, considering. He supposed his case could wait, it was a simple salt and burn on a chained up old house that had had three disappearances in the past hundred years, hardly an emergency. He was fairly certain Sam and Dean had enouph supplies to wait until he got back. After all, this sounded big, like precisely the sort of hunt he did not want them tangled up in.
"Okay, let's get going."
"Hmmm. Ooh, that's a good one." Gabriel sat in his newly grace-made penthouse, reading Weekly World News and nursing a candy bar like a glass of wine.
"Did you have to do it like that? Couldn't you just do something normally for once?"
He sighed. It was going to be one of those nights, was it, "Michael prayed at me for help. Did everything but send out an open prayer on all wavelengths. What was I supposed to do?"
"Something a little less high-profile and showy!" Gabriel retreated into his vessel's brain, glaring at the human trapped inside, "Well I'm sorry. He asked for a distraction. Hey, it was your idea to help in the first place! I wasn't gonna do anything."
The man made a face, "I just think that 41 tornados might be a little… unnecessarily excessive, that's all. I mean, what are they even going to find?"
Gabriel smiled, "Oh they'll have a hunt, don't worry."
The man rubbed at his face with one hand, "Just, could it not involve a disco ball this time? Please?"
The archangel shrugged, "Maybe. We'll see where it goes. Come on, Felix, where's your sense of fun?"
"I lost it about four hundred candy bars ago."
"That recently, huh?"
Felix groaned.
Castiel stopped, confused. That wasn't supposed to happen. He had just had the children's signal, and now he couldn't find it. It had just… disappeared. His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong here.
Throwing caution aside, he appeared in the location he had tracked them to, finding himself in yet another of the dull motel rooms that seemed the staple of their existence. He reached out with his grace, feeling for them and withdrawing with a frown when he still gained no results. He didn't know of any warding on the children, so what was wrong? He walked through the motel room manually, just to be sure. They were gone. All their belongings were still there however, abandoned as though left in the middle of play, and he felt his vessel's heart start to race as he began to worry. It had happened. The demons had finally come for them. He had failed in his mission. He picked up a small shirt from the floor, staring at it in unhappiness as he thought. Wherever they had been taken, the location had to be well warded for him to not be able to sense them at all, which meant the demons had probably already gotten started taking them apart. He could almost hear their screams in his mind. The shirt dropped to the floor, the angel that had held it gone. He didn't check for sulfur, there was no time. He would find them. He had to. He was determined.
