A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading and for bearing with me through this admittedly rather confusing storyline. By the way, the 41 tornado thing John and Bobby are looking into actually happened. I thought it sounded weird and decided to make it a hunt. You have all been extremely supportive and wonderful. I love you guys! MaraDixon413: So happy you're enjoying! Thanks for reviewing, I love hearing from you. Please keep reading, and I look forward to hearing from you in the future. CatstielWinchespurr: Thanks for reviewing! I think that Cas feels kind of responsible for them, after all, for a long time he was their protector, and I think he also kind of blames himself for this entire fiasco, if he hadn't interfered and gotten banished to Heaven, then they would have been protected, the "demons" never would have gotten to them, and none of this would be happening. Poor Cassie, of course, has no idea what is actually happening. I promise I am trying very hard to keep this as unconfusing as possible. ncsupnatfan: Glad you're enjoying! To explain: Michael asked Gabriel (He doesn't know where he is, he asked for his help on angel radio) to keep John out of the way long enouph to solve this crisis. This whole thing is very quiet and covert, the angels are still trying to remain hidden, Michael and Raphael don't want their soldiers to realize the cold war going between the two generals, or that they are the one's determining orders. CarverEdlundtheLast: I'm glad you like it so far! This is sort of a "season finale" storyline, there's major plot development on multiple fronts. Stay tuned!

Friendly reminder that John has only been hunting for a year and a half. he's probably about on a level with Garth. Maybe. Bobby's only been hunting for six or seven years. Just keep this in mind as the story progresses.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.


Chapter 29: Red Herring


"What's wrong, Dean?" The elder version of the Winchester brother whirled around, instantly relaxing as he spotted the voice's owner, "Dammit, Cas," he said, walking to throw his arms around the angel, "Warn a guy next time."

They pulled apart, Cas giving a slight smile, "I apologize. I tried to answer your call as promptly as possible."

"No, it's fine. Look Cas… we have a bit of a situation here-"

"Dean, Sam told me to tell you-" They both turned to stare at the boy in the doorway, who suddenly looked extremely awkward, "Who's that?"

Dean looked back at the angel, whose eyes had gone wide and looked slightly in shock. His head cocked and his eyes narrowed slightly, as though attempting to understand what he was seeing. He slowly dragged his gaze back to look at the adult, "What is he doing here?"

Dean motioned toward the angel by way of introduction, "Dean, Cas, Cas, Dean."

Cas's voice rose to a shout, "WHAT IS HE DOING HERE, DEAN?"

Dean wondered what was wrong with him, "Look we have a bit of a situation here, but if I could just talk to you alone-"

"Get 'way from him!" They looked down to see little Sammy, clearly extremely upset, run past the child, racing over to them and attempting to push Cas backward. Dean was surprised. Cas looked astounded, shocked, guilty. Dean wondered why, but grabbed Sammy, pulling the sobbing toddler away into his arms. Dean wiped at his wet cheeks, talking soothingly, "Hey, hey, what's this? Come on, you got nothing to cry about. Shhh." He bounced Sammy a little, hoping to calm him, instead the sobs grew worse.

Sammy didn't know what to do. He was certain that was the boy from his dream, all grown up, just like he had known the other adults were himself and Dean. This was a bad man, he knew it, and unless Sammy could stop it he was going to hurt Dean. He let out more sobs, screaming into the bad man's face, "No hurt Dee! No! Bad!"

What color had been left in Cas's face drained away. He started talking, his voice breaking a little, "I assure you, I will not harm your brother."

"I hate oo! Go 'way!"

Cas blinked back a few tears, "I only want to help."

"NO!" Sammy screamed, launching himself from Dean's grasp and pummeling at Cas's chest, only to be pulled away, still screaming and crying, by Dean. The man shook him a little. "Hey! Hey! Stop it! Do you hear me! Stop!" He walked over to his younger self, handing him the distraught toddler, "Get him out of here."

Little Dean stared at him for a second before he turned and fled. Dean closed the door, then turned back to Cas, who looked like he was in physical pain. "You okay?" He asked, showing rather more tenderness than was his wont.

The angel let out a shaky breath, then turned to his human charge, "I'm fine." Privately, Cas wondered what had brought on the display. He hoped it wasn't a premonition. Something that could induce that reaction- The question remained, why had he arrived in the bunker to come face to face with those children? And how long had they been there? "Dean, I want an explanation, now," he growled.


Little Dean sat on the bed in the room they had been given, holding Sammy's head against his chest and letting him cry. He didn't know what that tantrum had been about, but it had clearly upset his brother deeply and Dean was there to help him through it. Slowly the wails died to hiccups, and then to sniffles, until Sammy just sat, exhausted, leaning on his big brother's chest with Dean's fingers stroking through his hair.

Sammy didn't know what to think. Why was that man there? Why were his dreams (sort of) coming true? What was happening? He was so scared, and tired, and sleepy, and he just wanted to relax against Dean and fall asleep, but he couldn't let himself, not now, not when he was doing so well. Instead he levered himself off the bed with a sigh, running to the toys Sam had picked up from the store.

"Play with me, Dee!"

"Okay." Dean was a little confused by the sudden switch, but Sammy had been doing this a lot lately so he decided not to question it.

"Hey, uh, can we talk to you?" His older self and Cas stood in the doorway. He glanced at Sammy then nodded, walking through the door with the adults.


They sat around the library table. Cas spoke, "Dean, how did you get here?"

He looked from one to the other, bewildered, "I already told Sam and-"

"If you could just tell us again. Trust me. Cas can help."

"Okay." He repeated his story. Cas leaned forward slightly, "This symbol, he put it on a door?"

Dean nodded.

"And then he stuck feathers on it."

Dean nodded again. Cas took out a piece of paper, drawing a symbol on it and holding it out for scrutiny, "Is this what the man drew, Dean?"

The boy studied it carefully. They were depending on him, he couldn't let them down, "Yes."

"Thank you. And are you certain his name was Michael?"

Dean nodded.

Cas drew older Dean aside, "You were right. It is indeed a spell for time travel, a very unstable and dangerous one. However, it uses a minimum of grace which would be advantageous if he wanted to hide his actions."

"But why would Michael care about hiding what he was doing from angels? He's their frigging king, for crying out loud."

"I don't know. There is one other advantage to the spell; it binds the subject and the caster together, a sort of leash, if you will. That way the subject can be retracted at any time."

"So we could be having lunch or something and they just go poof?"

Cas tilted his head, "More or less. The important thing, however, is the volatility of it. I have never seen it used on anyone so young. It's not even supposed to be used on humans."

Dean paused, "Wow. So, Michael's a thoughtless jerk. Well, tell me something I don't know."

Cas's eyes narrowed, "Dean, if he used this spell it is because he was desperate. He must have had a good reason for it. He saved your life, most likely. You owe him some minimal amount of gratitude."

"Well, sorry," Dean replied sarcastically.

"We must keep an eye on them. I scanned Dean during the interview, he does not appear to have suffered any ill effects. I was not concerned for him anyway. My worry is for Sam."

That got Dean's attention, "What, why?"

"He is very young, and his condition is…complicated… to say the least. There are too many unstable variables." He walked off, not giving Dean time for further questions. The man shook his head at the floor, "I'm gonna kill that winged dick."


"Okay, here we are. Middle of nowhere, USA." John spoke, glaring at Bobby from his seat on a rotting log beside the fire. They had driven to the location, more or less on the other side of the country, and set up camp in some woods near the road so they could sleep in their cars. All on a hunch about some weather phenomena. He was feeling pissed.

"Well, this is where the job is. Come on, let's get to work."

John turned away from where he had been staring at the woods, "Uh, yeah. Okay, what do we know so far?"

Bobby picked up a binder, flipping through it as he spoke, "Stuff like this is pretty specific. Ain't many things got the mojo."

John stared at him, waiting for him to continue, "And?"

Bobby looked up, "What, you think I got all this stuff in my head? I did some research, though. Got it pretty well narrowed down." He handed John the binder, "Probably some kind of pagan god or witch or some crap."

John looked back up, "Witch? Those are real?"

"Yeah. It'd have to be really powerful though. Ain't never heard of nothing on this scale."

John nodded, turning back to the research. He flipped through page after page, growing increasingly nervous. These "pagan gods" sounded bad. "Hey Bobby, this stuff looks pretty bad. Maybe we should call in someone else."

"Are you kidding?"

John set the binder to one side, resting his face on his steepled fingers and rocking slightly as he tried to explain, "Look Bobby, I hate calling help. You know that. But, pagan gods? Witches? We're out of our pay grade. It isn't cowardice if you don't know what the hell you're doing."

"You wanna run?"

"What? No. Just… we aren't the best hunters ever. You can't deny that. You know people who are better qualified. Bring one of them in. We stick to salt-and-burns and werewolves."

"John, I-"

John stood up, holding up a hand as he nervously paced around, "No, never mind. Forget I said anything. Let's take this thing out."


Dean looked up as he heard the door open. His older self stood in the doorway, holding a plate.

"Hey, uh, we missed you at dinner. Figured I'd bring you someth- What's wrong?"

The child looked back at his hands, "Nothing."

The man nodded unbelievingly, head bobbing oddly and lips pouting out as he set the plate on a table and walked to sit on the bed, "Talk to me."

"I said there's nothing wrong."

"Yeah, you did." He paused, waiting." Come on, we both know you're lying. I'm you, remember? Now, what's up?"

Dean turned his head to avoid his older self's gaze, "I'm gonna leave."

"You're what?

He looked back at the man, "Look, I saw you and Cas talking, all right? You're worried. You're trying to hide it but I can tell."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to-"

"I'm not done." Older Dean's mouth shut, eyes widening and his head pulling back in an affronted look.

"I have people after me. They're determined, and they're not gonna stop. I've seen TV, I know how this works."

The man shook his head pityingly, "Oh, kid. You don't have a clue, do y-"

"Shut up. As long as I'm here, Sammy's in danger, both of him. With me gone, maybe the bad guys will leave him alone."

"Okay, but, where will you go?"

Dean paused, "Uncle Bobby's. He can help me. Meanwhile, Dean, you gotta drag Dad back from whatever hunt he's on. Promise me, please. He can protect you guys."

Older Dean spoke, "Yeah, little problem with that plan-"

"Please!"

"Dean…" There was a pained look on the man's face, one the child recognized all to well. He was silent for a moment, then his words came out as a frightened whisper, "Where's Daddy?" Dean knew the answer. It was just what he had always been afraid of, the reason he had always clung to Dad before a hunt. A million scenarios rushed through his head as he waited for confirmation of his worst nightmare. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dean was only upset because he was on the other side of the country. Maybe…

It was the older version's turn to study the floor, "He died. Long time ago."

Just like that the bottom went out of Dean's world. Dad was dead. Sure, it was in the future, but it was still happening.

He thought, his breathing heavy as he held back tears. Dad wouldn't have wanted him to cry. Only babies cry, Dean. He had to keep going, "Okay. You take care of Sam, and I go to Uncle Bobby's. You're tough, it can work without Dad."

The man shook his head. Dean glared at him. It was a good plan! What was this jerk's problem? Oh. Oh no. Dean's face wilted as he realized, "Uncle Bobby too?"

The man nodded. Dean collapsed into his arms, any semblance of control gone as he sobbed. The two people in the world he cared about, other than Sammy, and they were gone.