Reckless [Dean Winchester]

4. Bread Crumbs

4. Bread Crumbs

The one thing (I believe) that Henry failed to realize on the four hour drive to the location he gave us is that time changes everything.

"What's going on here?" he murmurs as we stand before our destination. We passed a few businesses (an antiques store and a shop called "Nu" which offered salads and pita bread) before landing where we are now. I tilt my head. What Henry sees now, what we're all seeing right now, is a comic book store, Astro Comics. A symbol is still visible on the door, but it looks like time has eaten a bit of it away.

I look around as Henry drinks in the change. I almost feel like I'm back home, only I'm with people that are stranger that those I've met in the past. My nails gently rake my arm. I tuck them under my armpits once I realize what I'm doing. I scratch when I'm nervous, no matter the intensity of my anxiety.

"No," I hear Henry whisper. I have to feel a little bad for the old-timer. He's so out of place in a time that's very unfamiliar to him.

"All right," Dean interrupts, "well, this is enlightening." He claps his hands loudly. "Let's hit the road, huh?"

"Give him a minute, Dean," Sam says defensively.

"We just spent four hours driving, okay? All he did was stare out the window and request Pat Boone on the radio. He had his time."

"It's just a façade," says Henry, "a way to rook our enemies into believing we're housed elsewhere."

"Okay, enough with the decoder talk. How about you tell us what this whole 'Men of Letters' business is, or you're on your own."

"It's none of your concern."

"Why, because we're hunters?" Dean snaps. The twitch to start scratching again runs in my fingers. "What do you have against us?"

"Aside from the unthinking, unwashed, shoot-first-and-don't-bother-to-ask-questions-later part, not much, really."

"You know what?" Sam joins in. "Wait a second. We're also John's children."

"You're more than that, actually," Henry says thoughtfully. "My father and his father before him were both Men of Letters, as John and you two should have been. We're preceptors, beholders, chroniclers of all that which man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters-the very elite. They do the rest."

"So you're like Yodas to our Jedis," Dean sums. Huh, never pegged him for a moviegoer. Henry looks very confused by Dean's reference. "Never mind. You'll get there."

"Okay," Sam says, "but if you guys were such a big deal, then why haven't we-or anyone we know-ever heard of you?"

Henry sums it all in one word, a name: "Abaddon." He opens the door to the comic book store, and Sam and Dean follow. Somehow, I find myself going in after them. Maybe it's because I don't want this demon Abaddon finding me all by myself. She'll use me to her advantage in a heartbeat if she gets a hold of me. Safety in numbers. Not my usual motto, but mottos can change.

"Since nobody's gonna ask the question, I might as well," I pipe. "Why'd she do it, Henry, whatever she did?"

Dean looks over his shoulder at me. "I thought you ran off. You have your chance."

"Yeah, well, that was before I got roped into whatever the hell this is." I hug myself. "The streets aren't exactly a haven right now."