Familial Relations chp6 - R - 2/2

[tigriswolf]

Title:  Familial Relations
Chapter: VI. In The Genes
Disclaimer: Not my characters excepting the ones I thought up. The liar quote is credited to  your_hero_died
Fandom: “Supernatural”/Devour crossover
Warnings: spoilers for seasons one and two of “Supernatural” and Devour; AU; het and slash; character death
Pairings: Ellen/Will; Gordon/Cade(Ash)
Rating: R
Wordcount: 12180
Notes: My knowledge of geography(including that of my own country) leaves much to be desired.
More notes: Also, credit to tigris_lilsisfor reading early parts of this and convincing me it was worth continuing.

Chapter I: "Rapture"
Chapter II: "Bloodcall"
Chapter III: "Crystalline"
Chapter IV: "Genetic Codes"
Chapter V: "Blood Kin"


part 1

Gordon did not get on with Will’s son. The boy was a genius and completely insane. He found his way to Gordon’s bad side every time they were near each other, with his voice and his stench and his way of not being able to shut the fuck up.

Ellen found it hysterical. Jo loved talking with Cade about anything, but always within earshot of Gordon. Will was just glad that Jo and Cade got along, and that Cade endeared himself to Ellen by offering to hook up the internet for her use.

About five months after Cade made the Roadhouse his home, Gordon was out back practicing his shooting, hitting the bull’s-eye each time. He heard the door open behind him, could tell by the footsteps who it was.

“You know there’s a mathematical formula to firing?” Cade asked.

Gordon clenched his teeth and kept shooting.

“I could teach it to you,” Cade said. “You’d never miss again.”

Gordon spun around, aimed the barrel right between Cade’s eyes. “I miss very rarely,” he stated, baring his teeth in the parody of a smile. “And never from this distance.”

Cade’s eyes were wide and sweat dripped down his face. He swallowed audibly and raised his hands in supplication. “You wouldn’t really shoot me,” he laughed nervously. “Right?”

Gordon just tilted his head, not looking away from Cade’s terrified bright blue eyes. He let the boy suffer for a moment more before pointing the gun at the ground. “’course not,” he answered. “Ellen’d kick my ass.”

-

Cade was wary around Gordon after that, but Gordon found him less wearisome. Cade learned Gordon’s triggers and cues, figured out things Gordon didn’t mind talking about. He even asked Gordon for shooting lessons and some knife moves, which Gordon didn’t mind giving him.

Everyone needs to learn how to defend themselves, after all.

It was a year to the day Cade first showed up that he attempted to kiss Gordon. Gordon saw it coming from a mile away; if there was anything Cade wasn’t, it was subtle. He’d known for about four months by that point that Cade had something of crush on him. He didn’t mind—the kid had finally endeared himself to Gordon by developing a vampire tracking system using the internet that made hunting far easier.

Gordon was wiping down tables while Cade swept. Jo was out on date with some kid named Victor(who’d been duly threatened by Will, Ellen, Gordon, and Cade), and Ellen and Will were on a hunt three states over.

Cade set the broom against the wall and sedately walked over, trying to appear suave and cool, but the effect was ruined by his wild, untamable hair. And he tripped over air, catching himself with a curse. Gordon grinned and stood up straight, met Cade’s eyes.

The kid paused and ducked his head, wiped his hands across his pants. Gordon took pity on him and asked, “Somethin’ you want, Cade?”

Cade looked up for half a second, then back at the floor. He’d told Gordon all about his college exploits, and his life with his mother, a different girl every week. Gordon had learned to recognize when he was lying and when he wasn’t; almost a fourth of his stories were true. Gordon knew that he wasn’t as smooth as he pretended to be, but he was smoother than this.

Which meant the kid really did like him. Damn.

“I like you,” Cade began without preamble. “You’re a good guy, and you’re funny, in a scary kind of way, and you’re nice—”

“Cade,” Gordon interrupted and Cade fell silent. Gordon stepped forward and said, “Look at me.”

Cade raised his head, nervous and skittish, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Gordon lifted his right hand, touching Cade’s shoulder, then face. “I haven’t had a relationship with anyone in over ten years, Cade,” he started. “I’m damaged goods. I’m not the type of person you should want.”

“But I do,” Cade answered. He almost smiled and moved closer.

Gordon nearly laughed and let his hand fall. “You shouldn’t. You’re a genius, and you deserve more than a broken hunter who’s forgotten how to be anything more.”

Rosalind flashed in his mind. She’d want him to be happy, to quit tormenting himself with his failure. He could her voice, clear as day, in his mind. It’s been fifteen years, Gordie. Move on. Let yourself live. 

So when Cade stepped into his space and reached up to pull his head down, Gordon let him.

-

Jo hugged them both and Will shook his head. Ellen just laughed.

Gordon smiled more and made sure to teach Cade all about knife fighting. For a few months, till just after his thirty-third birthday, Gordon was the happiest he’d been since the night Rosalind died. He could almost see a life past hunting. Ellen had taught him the basics of running a saloon and let him make most of the decisions regarding the Roadhouse.

And then John Winchester called.

-

Gordon was the one who answered the phone.

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse,” he said.

“I need to speak with Ellen or William,” a harsh voice replied. Gordon knew he’d heard the voice before but couldn’t place it.

“Hold on,” he responded and put down the receiver. He came across Ellen first, and continued scrubbing down the bar. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but Ellen wasn’t quiet at the best of times.

“John, say that again,” Ellen demanded, almost panicked. Then, “You want me to round everyone up?” Gordon glanced up to see her nod, scribbling something on a scrap of paper. “Okay, me, Will, and Gordon Walker can be there by early tomorrow. It might be longer if you need me to call everyone else.” She paused and rolled her eyes. “No, John. I’m not letting you get yourself or your boys killed because you’re impatient. It’s not a problem.” She nodded again. “See you then, John. And don’t go rushing into anything, okay?”

Ellen hung up and sighed, slumping down over the bar, resting her head on the worn wood. “Ellen?” Gordon asked. “Is everythin’ alright?”

“Just peachy,” she laughed. “Goddamn, John thinks he’s found the bastard.”

“John Winchester?” Then Gordon realized, “The demon that killed his wife?”

“Yeah.” She stood back up and rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck. “I need you to track down Will, Jo, and Cade. I’ve got some calls to make.”

Gordon nodded and tossed down his rag.

-

Ellen served a round of drinks, saying, “Jo and Cade’ll stay here. Leave the doors and windows locked; salt every possible entrance. Keep weapons within easy reach, and a phone.” She collapsed into the chair next to Will and took a long draught of her beer. “Dear god, this is gonna be hard.”

“Mom?” Jo asked.

Will reached over and put his arm across Ellen’s shoulders. “John Winchester called,” Ellen began. “He said Dean had left a message, and he didn’t check till almost a day passed. Dean requested back-up, said something huge was going down and that a family seemed to be in the middle of it. Demons were playing with them, for some reason, and neither Dean nor Sam had any idea what to do.” Ellen took another gulp of her beer. “John wants me to call everyone. He’s talked to his boys and this is the real deal. He’s promised them major back-up and we need to make it happen.”

“We can do that?” Cade asked.

“Yes,” Will answered. “We can. John’s saved most everyone’s life at least once, despite his temper and disposition. If he needs help, he’ll have it.”

“Okay,” Gordon said. “How many have you called?”

“Elkins, the Kinlin brothers, Turner, and Clancy. They’ll spread the word. I’ve given the location and timeframe, which is soon. Damned soon. Them boys are in the middle of something they can’t possibly be ready for.”

“How do you know that?” Jo inquired, refilling her mother’s glass.

Ellen looked over. Gordon didn’t recognize her expression and he shivered when she replied, “I just do.”

-

They arrived just after one o’clock in the afternoon. John met them at the door of the small motel, wearily slumped against the frame. “They did it,” he told them and laughed. He doubled over and kept laughing, sounding slightly unhinged.

Ellen and Will exchanged a glance, then Ellen asked, “John, you alright?”

He straightened and smiled. “The boys dealt with it. Half a dozen demons and they got ‘em all.”

Will’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

John nodded. “I am.” He stepped back into the motel and said, “C’mon in. The owner is resting, and so’s everyone else. I have her permission to cook anything I want. I explained, before she laid down, that I had an army coming; she just sighed and thanked me.”

“Who’s everyone else?” Gordon asked, taking a look around.

“My boys and a friend, and Joanna Springs and her sons, Michael and Asher.”

They all took a seat at the table in the middle of Joanna Springs’ kitchen and John served coffee.

“Now,” Will said, “what happened?”

And John explained. About The Demon possessing a boy and how Dean killed It. “I don’t know what he did,” John said with a shake of his head. “But he didn’t just exorcize It, didn’t just send It to hell—he destroyed It.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, then Will asked, “Who’s this friend?”

John drained his mug and then stood, walked to the counter, poured a refill. “He’s a kid, ‘bout twenty-two. Looks freakishly like Dean, but he’s a good guy.”

“’Freakishly like Dean’, how?” Ellen demanded, voice slightly off. The three men looked at her, and she was pale, eyes wide.

“Ellen?” Will said, reaching over to touch her forehead. “Are you alright?”

“Hello?” a new voice called, and a woman walked in. She was beautiful, petite, black hair and brown eyes.

Ellen turned to face her as John said, “This is Joanna Springs.” Ellen stood and met Joanna’s eyes, then laughed. She fell back into her chair, still laughing. Will knelt next to her, trying to calm her, while John stood and hurried to Joanna, reassured her that everything was fine. Gordon looked from Ellen to Joanna and back.

It had to be a trick of his mind, his eyes—had to be.

-

The hunters came in twos and threes. Ellen called the Roadhouse to let Jo and Cade know the battle had ended before they arrived.

John sent the hunters away, thanked them for coming. None were upset that they’d made the trip for no reason; they understood that someone in their line of work could never be too careful.

John reconciled with men and women he’d long ago pushed away. It seemed a weight had dropped from his shoulders; he almost appeared young again.

Four hunters refused to go, and Gordon watched John interact with Jim Murphy, Elkins, Caleb Turner, and Bobby Singer. Murphy wasn’t what he’d expected; Will had told him about the gentle preacher who’d often helped John with his boys, but this man—steel in his soul. He carried a gun like he’d been born to it. Elkins hadn’t changed in the years since he taught Gordon; he was still a crazy sumbitch, still ready to fight and kill anything that threatened him. Turner moved dangerously, like John and Dean, silent. And Singer—just after he arrived, he’d pulled John into a private conversation that lasted the better part of two hours.

Gordon spent that time talking to Caleb, the only person about his age. They discussed guns, mainly, but also some about knives and various things they’d killed.

Finally, Singer and John came back into the kitchen. Ellen’d been silent the whole time they were gone, kept to herself in the corner, nursing a bottle of water. Gordon had looked over every once in a while, just to check on her; she’d worried her bottom lip near clean-through. Will had been deep in discussion with Murphy and Elkins, but Gordon had also noticed him sneaking looks toward Ellen.

When John and Singer came back in, Ellen pushed off the wall and stood to her full height. “You really think it’s over?” she asked with a scoffing laugh. “That something that powerful didn’t have a back-up plan in place?”

“No,” John answered. “I know for a fact it isn’t over. But my sons need a rest and I intend to let them have it.”

“You called us because you figured they were in too deep, too soon. And now, to here tell of it, they defeated some of the nastiest things in creation with barely a blink. John, do you have any idea what’s going on?” Ellen’s voice had started out strong, righteous; but by the end of her diatribe, she’d faded, sunk back in on herself. The water bottle dangled from her fingers, nearly empty; with a bit-off curse, she threw it down and stormed from the kitchen, barreling between Will and Elkins.

The men watched her go; then with a sigh, Will followed.

“Do you?” Singer echoed softly, watching John.

“Yeah,” John answered just as softly. “Actually, I do.”

Gordon had his suspicions, but no solid proof. He’d met Dean and he knew John; since he’d thrown his lot in with the Roadhouse crew, his worldview had shifted slightly.

So he left the kitchen, pulling his cellphone from his pocket, and he dialed Cade’s number.

-

Gordon spent most of the next week talking to Caleb in person or Cade on the phone or visiting with Elkins or Joanna. Come to find out, he and Joanna had a lot in common. He listened as she spoke of her boys when they were younger, or that nightmare with the demonically possessed.

More than once, she asked if she were crazy. So Gordon shared his experiences with the otherworld and she listened, by turns sympathetic and horrified.

Dean, Sam, the ‘friend’ who looked freakishly like Dean named Jake, and Joanna’s boys spent the week resting. John’d said they nearly burned themselves out, destroying the demons.

The first one to venture from hibernation was a tall guy John introduced to Gordon as his younger son Sam. Gordon greeted him cordially; everyone could see the kid was still wiped out. “How’re Dean and Jake?” John asked and Sam sighed.

“Dean refuses to sleep more than a few hours at a time,” he answered, filling a glass with water and draining it dry in one gulp.

“How’re you?” Murphy inquired, coming closer.

Sam turned to him and gave a double-take. “Pastor Jim?” He held out a hand; Murphy grabbed it and pulled him in for hug. “I thought you’d retired.”

Murphy laughed and released him. “I did. But your dad had everyone here, just to be safe.” He patted Sam’s shoulder and laughed again. “You’ve grown, Sam.”

Sam ducked his head and refilled his glass, chugging it down in one gulp again. He leaned against the counter and just listened to them talk, offering a comment here and there. Gordon studied him, looking for hints of John or Dean—looking for a hunter in the affable boy.

After about twenty minutes, Sam was drooping. John sent him back to his room with instructions to rest some more. Sam went without a struggle, with just a nod and weary, “Yes, sir.”

It wasn’t but a few hours later when Dean appeared. He sank into a chair at the kitchen table, clearly hurting. Murphy brought him a tall glass of water, which he took with muttered thanks and drained in one giant gulp. After he removed the rim from his mouth, he gasped for air and coughed; Murphy took the glass from him and refilled it, setting it in front of it.

“You alright, son?” John asked quietly and Dean nodded.

“A few more days, I’ll be good as new,” he answered.

Ellen slipped into the room and said, “You need to tell us what happened, Dean.” Her voice was soft, weary. Dean looked up and over; Gordon could tell—and bet everyone else could, too—that Dean would have liked nothing more than to never speak of whatever it was ever again.

“There was some demons,” Dean shrugged. “We got rid of ‘em. End of story.”

“No,” Ellen replied, shaking her head and stepping closer. “Not end of story. What you did… what Sam and Jake, Michael and Asher did—it’s not possible. Not for humans.”

Dean straightened and Gordon stiffened; John slowly turned his head from Dean to Ellen. “What are you saying?” he rumbled.

Dean’s face was blank but for a dangerous half-smirk. Elkins, Singer, Murphy, and Turner all stepped back, letting the Winchesters and Ellen have space. Will stepped into the room behind Ellen.

“I’m saying that…” Ellen’s voice trailed off and she never looked away from Dean. “She tried escape, Mary did. But it can’t be done. Leaving the family never works.”

Ellen kept coming closer and Dean’s hand tightened around the glass. “It killed Cassandra, Maralyn, and Jessica—It tried to kill Michael, Asher, Sam, and you.”

“The hell you talkin’ about?” Dean bit off and stood, shoving his chair back so hard it flipped.

Ellen’s smile was sad and she almost laughed. “You know. You can’t help but know. It’s all there, in the back of your mind. Knowledge you don’t want, but know all the same. That’s how it always is.”

Dean was silent for a moment, face shuttered; then he stormed past her without looking back.

John moved. Gordon didn’t see him till he was already in Ellen’s face, towering over her. “What do you know, Ellen?” he growled.

“What Mary was. What her sons are. What about you, John?” The words were hurled at him as she straightened to her full height, eyes glaring.

“I know enough. They are my sons. It doesn’t matter—nothing else matters. They are mine.”

And Ellen laughed. She shook her head and Will reached out, touched her shoulder. “There’s an entire history, John. A genealogy of children sworn away before conception. Maralyn tried to escape and she became Mary. Cassandra died, even younger than Mary—and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” John scoffed. “What does she have to do—”

“She was Kenneth’s daughter, John. Kenneth, the eldest of Mary’s siblings.” Ellen softened and raised her hand to John’s shoulder. “It’s all twisted. The family… the war’s started and there’s nowhere to turn. There’s two left of the family older than forty, and they won’t last long, can’t. Their power has waned. Mary—Maralyn—she was the brightest and she ran.”

Ellen paused and Gordon looked away, at Murphy, Singer, Elkins, and Turner. Murphy had his eyes closed, Singer was watching John, Elkins had his hand on the gun in his belt, and Turner just leaned against the wall, face calm. Gordon glanced back to John, who appeared to be carved from granite. He was still, cold—scary.

“And then there’s the children—four of them. Two boys, two girls. Two of them also have kids.” Ellen turned earnest. “You don’t know what’s going on, John. All the elders who did—they’re dead. The entire family wiped out in a night. But the boys here… they took on some of the strongest demons—and they won.” She laughed again. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

John stepped back. “You’re crazy, Ellen. Get some sleep.” He stared at her and no one else spoke, so she slowly nodded.

“Alright. But hear me, John. I know what they’re feelin’, what they’re goin’ through. It’s nowhere near over, and that demon, the big one? It’s not gone.” She spun around and breezed back out. Will studied John for a moment then followed her.

“John?” Singer asked. “How you doin’?”

“Are they a threat?” Turner spoke from his corner, voice soft.

John chuckled. “I know my boys, Caleb. Whatever she’s goin’ on about, they’re not dangerous to us.”

“Alright,” Turner responded.

“Get some sleep,” John said, glancing at everyone. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

-

Gordon followed John into the hall.

“It’s not natural, John. You know it.” Gordon didn’t like stating it, but it had to be said.

John raised his head, looked over. His eyes were cold—dangerous. Gordon just kept himself from stepping back. “If any move is made on them, Walker,” John said, “I will come for you.”

Gordon hadn’t stepped down from a fight in years, but Elkins’ words echoed in his head: He’ll set you right on your ass, then shoot you just to prove a point.

“If it’s supernatural,” Gordon tried, holding out his hands to show he was no threat, “then it’s dangerous.”

John stepped forward. “You killed your sister, Gordon. I won’t kill my boys. And nothing else will, either.”

His heart pounding, Gordon backed down. “Fine.”

-

It was two days later that the kids—Michael and Asher—left their room. Gordon was in the kitchen with Joanna and Dean; he waited till Dean introduced him to leave. He’d been wanting to talk to Ellen—alone—ever since her little freak-out, but hadn’t had the chance.

That discussion John promised didn’t happen. At least, not with Gordon. But he suspected John talked with Singer and Murphy, at the least. And most likely Turner, too. Which pissed Gordon off just a bit.

Now that the boys were up, they’d hold John’s attention. So Gordon tracked Ellen down, determined to learn everything.

-

Ellen didn’t want to tell him, but she’d held the secrets so long—they weighed heavy and they spilled out, and Gordon listened in silence.

She was something else. Unnatural. And a kind woman who’d offered him a home. Human. But not.

“They’re your nephews?” he asked and she nodded, eyes wary.

“Only the family knew the truth, Gordon,” she said softly. “Those of the blood and those who mated in. I don’t know how John knows what he knows, because Mary never told him. She was determined to escape the family, everything it meant. If she hadn’t…” Ellen trailed off and shrugged. “She had the power, Gordon. And so do her sons. But without training, without direction…” She shook her head.

“What about Jake?” Gordon asked. “Do you know who, or what, he is?”

Ellen almost smiled and met his eyes. “Something else, better,” she answered. “Dean’s son.”

Gordon let out a bark of laughter. “That’s impossible, Ellen. Dean can’t be but six years older, at the most.”

“Magic,” Ellen replied. “Meddling in things that shouldn’t be meddled with. I felt when his power waxed and waned. He outshone even Maralyn and her boys.”

Gordon looked at her for a second, considered. “You know my belief, Ellen. Can you honestly tell me they aren’t a danger?”

Ellen met his eyes straight on and nodded. “I can, Gordon. They aren’t a danger, not to those who don’t threaten them.”

“Okay,” he replied and put his trust in her.

-

Ellen, Will, and Gordon left Fitchburg just after dawn. Ellen had nodded goodbye to Elkins, Murphy, Turner, and Singer, but had merely shared a glance with John. Elkins clapped Will and Gordon on the shoulder, and Turner shook their hands. Murphy clasped their forearms and Singer nodded.

John just watched with a solemn look and inclined his head minutely.

-

When they got back to the Roadhouse, Ellen pulled Jo to her and held her daughter for a long time.

“Mom?” Jo asked, wrapping her arms around Ellen, looking over her shoulder at Will. “What’s wrong?”

“Trouble’s coming,” Ellen whispered, and Gordon could barely hear her. “I just…” She shuddered and Will stepped over to his family, encircled both with his arms.

Gordon silently slipped out back, where Cade was practicing with knives. “You’d think,” Gordon said, “with all your brains, you’d have mastered that formula by now.”

Cade turned with a huge grin and greeted Gordon with a bear-hug. “Ya’ll’re back!” He pulled away slightly, looked Gordon in the eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Things have changed,” Gordon answered, letting his head sag and rest on Cade’s. “Gotten… complicated.”

“Gordon?”

He sighed, slinking his arms down around Cade. “Everythin’ll be fine. It’s just… it might be a long, hard road gettin’ there.”

-

The next few months were slow, quiet. Ellen called hunters all over the country, warning them of various things she knew would happen before they did. She never spoke of Fitchburg or what she’d told Gordon. He didn’t ask if Will or Jo knew.

Gordon went out on the odd hunt now and then, but he felt hesitant to leave the Roadhouse for long.

When Ellen got the call for a dangerous hunt that required both her and Will, as well as Gordon, she fought to keep from having to go. She tried convincing all of them that they couldn’t, shouldn’t go—something would happen if they did.

But Eddie Kinlin kept calling back. “George is hurt,” he told Gordon when Gordon was the one who answered. “There’re dozens of people in danger if that damned pack ain’t taken down, and I can’t do it alone. I’ve called everyone else, and they’re just as busy.”

Gordon sighed. “I’ll talk to her, Eddie. I’ll do my best.”

Will, Gordon, Jo, and Cade all ganged up on Ellen, convinced her they had to do this. “We’ll salt every door and window, Mom,” Jo assured her. “Twice over. We won’t let anyone in. We’ll keep weapons close and a phone closer. You have to go.”

Ellen kissed both Jo and Cade on the forehead and didn’t say goodbye. Will hugged them both, said they’d be back within two weeks, but they’d call periodically. Gordon hugged Jo and then kissed Cade. “Take care of yourselves,” he said then joined Ellen and Will in the car.

-

The hunt went smoothly. The Kinlin brothers thanked them for coming and they wasted no time in heading back for the Roadhouse.

“Something’s wrong,” Ellen said the minute no one answered her call.

A pit in Gordon’s stomach echoed her sentiment and Will drove faster.

-

Gordon saw the smoke from miles away. It billowed into the sky, drifting, all coming from one spot. Ellen saw it next, then Will.

“No,” Ellen moaned and Will broke 100mph.

-

The Roadhouse was a smoking ruin. It had been gutted from the inside out. The second floor had fallen in and nothing was left untouched. In the center of what had been the barroom, two skeletons rested, guns just out of reach. “No,” Ellen whimpered, falling to her knees, shaking her head.

“It is a shame, isn’t it?” a lilting voice asked and Gordon whirled around, throwing a knife and raising his gun. A man stood a little to the side, a maniacal grin twisting his lips. His hair was long and unkept, a pale blond just starting to turn gray. He batted the blade away.

Ellen lunged to her feet and spun to face him. “Kenneth,” she snarled, “how could you do this?” She moved faster than Gordon had ever seen before and attacked Kenneth, shrieking all the while.

But Kenneth just laughed and shoved her back. “Little sister,” he chuckled, “I merely accepted the inevitable. Your daughter was too much of a loose end, and no loss to the cause. She hadn’t much potential, anyway, less than you.”

Ellen glared at him and Gordon squeezed the trigger, hatred and rage coursing through his blood.

Kenneth raised his head, met Gordon’s eyes, and smiled. And then Gordon felt himself falling backwards, into blackness.

-

He woke to Ellen sobbing. Will was muttering but Gordon couldn’t make out his words. Gordon was facedown in the dirt, aching all over, and his head throbbed.

For a moment, he couldn’t remember. But then he smelled the smoke.

“Gordon,” someone said, but he ignored the voice, closing his eyes and wallowing in his pain, his rage, his hate—he hadn’t felt this way in years, not since Rosalind.

Rosalind. Cade. Jo. Two sisters and a lover, and clearly Gordon just hadn’t been meant for happiness.

“Walker,” the voice tried again. “Listen. The three of you need to get out of here. Now, get the fuck up.”

Anger rushed through him and he shoved off the ground, lunging to his feet. A knife was in his hand and he slashed towards the voice without seeing, without even really thinking about it.

A hand grabbed his wrist and twisted; the dagger slipped from his fingers and his mind cleared enough to recognize the man, the voice, the tight grip. “John?”

John nodded. On either side of him were Singer and Turner. Turner separated, went to Ellen; he picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and she was so far gone she didn’t even struggle. Singer strode over to Will, pulled him to his feet and tugged the shell-shocked father away.

Gordon just stared at John, tears pouring down his face. “C’mon, son,” John said soothingly, holding out a hand. “We need to get out of here.”

Closing his eyes, Gordon took the hand.

-

He sat shotgun in John’s truck; Will and Ellen rode with Turner and Singer in Turner’s SUV. Neither of them spoke for miles.

Finally, Gordon asked, “Where are we headed?”

“Back to Fitchburg,” John answered.

Gordon nodded and was silent all the way to the hotel.

- 

When Gordon dreamed that night, it was of death and darkness and Cade’s blue eyes accusing him of being too slow, too late, too weak.

Dean had a cameo. Dean’s eyes were solemn and he said, “I’m sorry.”

Gordon huffed out a bark of laughter and asked, “You the one that killed him?”

“No,” Dean answered, shaking his head. “But the thing that did thinks we declared war. So It’s going after anyone who could be an ally. Dad’s already called everyone, warned ‘em to go to ground. But Jo and Cade—we didn’t have time.”

“War, huh?” Gordon echoed. He bared his teeth. “I think I can handle that.”

“No,” Dean said, with the shake of his head. “You can’t. This isn’t your fight.”

Narrowing his eyes, Gordon lunged forward, grabbed Dean’s collar. “You won’t keep me out of this, Winchester. That demon brought it to me and I will see it done.”

Dean raised his hands to cover Gordon’s. “This is what I was meant to do, Walker. Me, Sammy, Jake, and Michael—even Asher. What we were born for. The demon—It took too much, too soon, attempted to kill family… succeeded in killing family.” Dean’s eyes entreated Gordon to listen, really listen. “It thinks we declared war, but we didn’t. It did, twenty-three years ago, when It killed Mom. And now… by killing Jo, by trying to kill Michael, Asher, and Joanna… by chasing me and Sam our whole lives… It’s sealed Its coffin shut. And you can’t fight this, Walker. It’d kill you.”

Gordon released Dean and spun away, muttered a curse. “So, your… unnaturalness was meant to defeat this filthy demon.”

Dean’s voice was cold. “Yes.”

“And because of you, your family—Cade is dead.”

Dean didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

So Gordon whirled around to face him, aimed his gun right between Dean’s eyes. “Then tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

And Dean smiled. “Because you’re dreaming, Walker. And if you attempted this while conscious, you’d be dead before your finger received the message to pull the trigger.”

Gordon woke with a half-shrieked curse and dread curling through him.

-

He padded into the kitchen three days after arriving back at Joanna Springs’ hotel. He’d slept and attempted sleep, but he hadn’t cried. He hadn’t cried since they left the Roadhouse’s gutted frame and knew he never would again. He felt all the walls that’d been broken down over the years building back up, but he didn’t have the strength or inclination to halt their progress.

Rosalind. Jo. Cade. He didn’t have the room for any more, so he closed off.

Joanna was alone in the kitchen, scrambling eggs. Gordon silently took a chair at the table. “Who all’s here?” he asked and she spun around with a gasp.

“Oh,” she laughed. “Mr. Walker.” She turned back around and said, “Mr. Singer, Pastor Jim, Mr. Winchester, Dean, Sam, and Jake. Oh, and Mr. and Mrs. Harvelle.”

Gordon stared down at the table, tracing a design with his finger. Everything was hazy, far away—but beneath the numbing pain, he felt anger and hate stirring, demanding vengeance, demanding he hunt down the thing that killed them and tear It from the face of the earth.

“Anyone else on the way?” He wondered that he didn’t sound as hollow and shattered as he felt.

She shook her head, moved the eggs from the pan to a plate. Glancing over her shoulder she asked, “Want some?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t thirsty. He just ached, inside and out.

-

For a few days, Gordon just existed. He walked around the hotel like a ghost, seldom speaking. Ellen never left the room Joanna gave them, but Will did, once. His eyes were red with bags under them, and all he did was ask Joanna if he could prepare some food for himself and his wife.

John was cloistered with Dean, Sam, and Jake; Singer and Murphy were perusing books and taking notes.

The fifth day there, Gordon sat down with Singer and Murphy, asked if there was anything he could do to help. Murphy passed him a book and told him to look for demon traps.

The eighth day there, John called a meeting of all the adults and they clustered in the kitchen.

-

“If we know Its name, we can defeat It. For good.” John’s voice was solemn, soft.

“And I suppose,” Ellen bit out, the words fragile and cutting, “that It’ll have told something we can ask?” Tears were building in her eyes.

Dean raised his head and the slow movement caught Gordon’s eye. He glanced over, saw Dean staring at Sam, brow furrowed.

When Dean spoke, the soft words made everyone listen. “Sammy, what was she apologizing for?”

Sam frowned and Jake shifted between them, glancing from one to the other. “Jake,” Sam asked, “back when—did you ever learn Its name?”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t even know Marisol’s real name.”

Dean looked down at the table, trailed his fingers along the grain. “Ellen,” he said, flicking his gaze up, “what was Mom’s real last name?”

“You don’t know?” Her voice was full of disbelief.

“We don’t know anything,” he responded. “Not the history, not the lore—nothin’. Just that…” he sighed and looked back down. “Just that everything’s so twisted and fucked up, we’ll never escape.”

“Roanoke,” she whispered. “Mary was the youngest acknowledged daughter.”

“Who are all the still-living descendents?” Sam queried, sitting up straight.

"John,” Singer cut in, “what the hell—”

“Bobby.” John’s tone shut everyone up. “I don’t fully understand, but Mary was the best person I’ve ever known. That demon killed her, and apparently a lot of other good people—her sister, who I met at our wedding, Sam’s girl Jessica, Cade and Jo—and hundreds of others. Dean, Sam, and Jake—they’re my boys. And if they can defeat this bastard, then I’ll do anything to help.”

John’s gaze shifted around the table, starting with Gordon. “Now, you can either stand with us or get the fuck out of Dodge. Your call.”

They were all quiet for a moment, then Gordon said, “It killed two people I loved. And I want…” he paused, took a deep breath. “Vengeance. Any way I can get it.” He looked at Dean, then Sam, then Jake. “This didn’t start out my fight, but I can’t walk away now.”

John inclined his head. “Ellen, Will?”

“We’re not goin’ anywhere,” Will replied, placing his hand over Ellen’s.

Smiling sadly, John turned to Murphy. “Jim?”

“Twenty years I known ya, John,” Murphy said. “I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay. Any fight’a yours is a fight’a mine.”

“Storm comin’, John,” Singer began before John could turn and ask. “And I think ya’ll have been in the middle for a very long time. We’ve had our differences, our quarrels… but I’ll stand with you. I trust you.” He nodded to John and then glanced over at Dean. “You sure the three’a ya can handle what’s comin’?”

Everyone looked at Dean, waiting for his answer. He turned his head to see Ellen; softly, he asked his question again. “Who are the still-living descendents?”

“Kenneth,” she muttered. “The oldest. Me, Joanna, you three, Michael, and Asher.” She flicked her gaze from his to the tabletop. “And that’s it.”

“Wait,” Joanna interrupted. “What?”

Ellen laughed sadly, and it had an hysterical edge to it. “Sorry, kiddo,” she said. “You’re Cassandra’s daughter. When she died, I brought you myself to Jackson, left you with a family that I knew’d take good care of you. Checked in now and again, to be sure, but stopped when I had my own daughter.” Joanna’s eyes were huge, shocked, and her face slack. “Why’d you think the demons took an interest in your boys, hon?” Ellen asked. She answered her own question, bitterly. “Because it’s Roanoke blood in their veins. Same as Mary’s, same as them.” She nodded towards Dean, Jake, and Sam.

Joanna shook her head in denial, looking to Dean for something Gordon couldn’t name. Dean raised his head, met her eyes. “They’re caught, Joanna,” he said. “Just like us. Until this is finished, until that murdering bastard is dead, they’ll never be safe. Neither will you be.”

Joanna pushed back from the table, causing her chair to flip as she stood. Still shaking her head, she turned, hurried towards the door. “I’m gettin’ my sons,” she called over her shoulder. “And then we’re gettin’ the hell outta here.”

Everyone watched in stunned silence, but Dean followed her out. Sam got up to go after them, but Jake grabbed his arm and shook his head. Sam settled back into his chair.

Ellen sighed and sagged down, resting her head on the table. Will threaded his fingers through her hair. John looked across the table and met Gordon’s gaze, but when he spoke the words were directed to Jake.

“We need to know. Everything.”

Jake turned slightly towards Sam and took a deep breath.

-

Gordon paced around his room, unable to sleep. He’d done crunches, push-ups, sharpened knives, and cleaned guns. He was considering jumping jacks, though he’d always hated them.

Rosalind. Jo. Cade. Demons and bloodlines and destiny. Meddling.

Damn, but Gordon’d stepped right into a nightmare and now there’d be no waking up. It was a war, now. Maybe it had always been a war, but Gordon hadn’t been a part of it.

He could walk away. He could. The demon, whatever the fuck It was after, wanted the Winchesters too much to focus on a fringe hunter. He could vanish, fade—escape.

Rosalind. Jo. Cade.

Cade.

Gordon turned, looked at the door.

Cade.

He threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Rosalind.

He couldn’t walk away.

Cade.

-

Gordon was teaching Michael a few knife techniques when the girl showed up. The kid was good, better than good—nowhere near Gordon, or the Winchesters, but still pretty damned skilled.

Michael’d explained his practice—late at night, pockets here and there—which didn’t cover how good he was. Gordon bet it had something to do with his family, the Roanoke—whoever the hell they were.

Dean had somehow calmed Joanna down, convinced her to stay. Joanna was still angry, still skittish, but she dug in her heels. After she’d come back to the meeting, she’d stood in the doorway, looked at Ellen then John. “This is my life,” she said. “My home. My sons. And no demon is going to take anything away.”

John inclined his head and she sat back down.

They’d fortified the hotel as best they could, taken file upon file of notes, were as ready as they’d ever be. But they didn’t make a move because they had no idea where the demon was, what It was doing, who It’d go after next. John and Ellen had called everyone they could think of and the word had spread: prepare for war and be ready for anything.

Only Bobby Singer and Jim Murphy had stayed with them at the hotel.

Sam and Jake talked with Joanna and the boys, helped them practice their abilities. Michael had telekinesis, apparently, though not a lot—just enough for a slight edge, if his opponent was off-guard. It definitely helped his knife throwing, but it wasn’t a sure thing all the time. Asher was telepathic, though only with his blood kin. And Joanna had dreams that sometimes came true.

“Why are we so powerful?” Gordon heard Sam ask Ellen. “And they’re not?”

“You’re Maralyn’s,” Ellen answered. “She was the most powerful in… well, ever. She was the culmination. But then she had your brother, you. I never was powerful, not even a blip on the radar, really. And Jo…” Ellen laughed, though it sounded like a sob. “She was a good shot. Seems like the Roanoke are really good killers.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s not fair, I know. You think they should be more gifted, like you. Like Dean and Jake.”

“It’s just…” Sam started then trailed off.

“It’ll work out, Sam. I promise. We’re here, all that remain. The family stretched too far, too quickly, and that’s why they failed. I think… if all four of us, Kenneth, Cassandra, your momma, and me—if we’d stood together, It wouldn’t have had a chance. We’re stronger as a family.”

Gordon slipped away before hearing any more.

He couldn’t help in the ‘magic’ department, in the innate gifts bit, but he could train the kids to fight. As much as he wanted to hide them away somewhere safe, he knew that place didn’t exist. The very blood in their veins was a beacon, a siren call. There was nowhere they could go that the demon and Its acolytes couldn’t find them.

-

“Why’d your brother turn?” Gordon asked one night at dinner.

Ellen flinched but didn’t look up from her plate. “He was weak,” she snarled. “He gave in because he didn’t want to fight.” She stabbed her fork into her spaghetti and raised her eyes. “The eldest is not the most powerful, except in rare anomalies. And Kenneth is only a little stronger than me. If I hadn’t… stopped practicing, I could have taken him that day.” She looked back down at her meal and continued eating.

Gordon didn’t ask anything else and Jim started a discussion with Dean about guns.

-

Michael had just hit the bull’s-eye ten times in a row when Singer poked his head into the practice room and called, “Company’s coming. John wants the boys hidden away till we know if it’s good company or not.”

Gordon nodded and strode to the target, pulled the knife from it. “You know where to go, kid,” he said, and Michael rushed off, blade in hand.

Trusting Michael to actually hide away with his brother, Gordon hurried to the office, met up with Joanna there. “We know anything?” he asked, helping her straighten up. She shook her head.

"Jake just said she’s a girl, young, lookin’ for somethin’. Whether she’s like that Meg or not, he couldn’t tell.”

Jake had gone into detail about the ceremony required to end such a powerful demon as the one hunting them, but only with the Winchesters and Ellen. He’d said the more people that knew, the less likely it’d work. Gordon wasn’t sure he believed that, but he was just too tired to pick fights with his allies.

-

When the girl slipped into the check-in area of Joanna’s hotel, she paused.

Joanna stood behind the desk, Gordon next to her. Just out of sight, John and Sam waited. Bobby and Jim were patrolling the perimeters of the property and Jake was with the kids, ready to defend them.

Dean was the wild card. Gordon had no idea where he was.

The girl was bruised and looked like she’d flee at the slightest provocation. She was slight, young. She licked her lips, looking at Joanna then Gordon. Her blond hair framed her face and Gordon could see the strength in her eyes. She was playing them, seeking sympathy.

When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “Is Dean or Sam here?”

Gordon and Joanna shared a glance. “Who’re you?” Gordon asked.

“Kat,” she answered. “They saved me and I…” she trailed off, looked away, ran a hand through her hair. “I need…”

When she raised her gaze, her eyes were midnight-black.