Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sam slept poorly the night after meeting Danny. Despite the alcohol Bobby had so generously provided, Sam couldn’t forget the wild panic in Danny’s eyes as he begged the hunters not to send him back to Amity, to the people who cut him open like a corpse. He couldn’t forget the sloppy stitches that the kid had done himself, sewing his skin back together so he wasn’t just so much meat. 

Sam couldn’t forget Danny asking how the three hunters were any different than whatever sick sons of bitches had done that in the first place.

The worst part was, the kid was right. He and Dean had been acting like they had in the early days, where anything supernatural was fair game, whether it was causing harm or not. They had shot the kid with rock salt, knocked him out, had fully intended on, ahem, “interrogating” him as to what exactly he was so they knew how to deal with any more like him in the future. 

All of this made Sam’s sleep fitful and uneasy. When he woke at his customary dawn hour the next morning, he fervently wished his internal clock wasn’t so set on him getting up with the sun. He made his way sluggishly through breakfast before Bobby approached him.

“Come on,” Bobby said, surlier than usual. He was still pissed at Sam and Dean then. This would be a fun day. “Groceries. This house ain’t got enough food for you boys and the kid.”

And the car was a convenient, inescapable place for conversations; handy when you want to lecture someone without them walking away from you. 

Sam rode shotgun in Bobby’s truck as the older hunter drove them the not-inconsiderable distance to the nearest town for their milk run. He sat quietly, waiting for Bobby to say whatever it was he was planning to say.

This was different from similar situations with his dad. John Winchester had been the type to express his displeasure forcefully and quickly, always expecting his sons to be better without ever explaining how they were supposed to get better.

Bobby, on the other hand, waited until the right moment to talk.  He waited until he was calm enough to explain why he had gotten angry or upset, and how they could do better in the future.

Bobby had been more of a father to them than their own in many ways, which made disappointing him that much worse. 

Bobby still hadn’t unloaded his thoughts by the time the two reached the grocery store. It wasn’t until after they got the food and were heading back to Bobby’s place that he finally spoke up.

“You owe that kid one hell of an apology,” Bobby said.

Sam grimaced. “You’re right. Dean and I royally screwed up, and we need to make it right with Danny.”

Bobby shook his head, eyes remaining on the road. “I’ll get to talkin’ with Dean later. That ain’t what I meant though. You specifically owe Danny a hell of an apology, because you of all people know better than to hunt people for something they didn’t choose.” 

He gave Sam a pointed look, and Sam had to look away, ashamed.

Bobby had cut right to the heart of it last night: Sam was acting just like Gordon Walker, the hunter who decided the younger Winchester was fair game because of some psychic powers and some rumors. Sam had royally screwed the pooch on this one, and he had to make it right.

He had to apologize. Timing was crucial though; if he waited too long, it would be worthless. But doing it too soon would be almost as bad. He couldn’t just go bursting in and announcing, Hey Danny, I’m sorry that I knocked you out with a crowbar and helped tie you up with ropes that burned you. Wanna be besties?

Yeah. That was a good way to ensure the kid thought he was an insensitive asshole who was apologizing just to get Bobby off his back. No, he had to wait until he’d made some amends first.

Sam’s thoughts lasted the rest of the trip back to Bobby’s. 

The kid walked up as he and Bobby were taking the groceries out of the bed of the truck. Danny looked better after a half-decent night’s sleep; the bags under his eyes looked less like bruises, and he no longer moved like any wrong step could send him shattering apart. 

“Hey, Danny!” Sam greeted him. 

“Good to see you up, kid,” Bobby added. 

Danny nodded at them, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he fidgeted awkwardly. It looked like he was still processing the emotional whiplash of going from a huntable creature to a wounded patient in their eyes.

“Can I help you guys with those?” he asked, gesturing to the grocery bags like they were a lifeline in his sea of awkwardness. 

Sam could have told him the answer even before Bobby let out a surly, “Hell no,” on his way inside.

Danny’s eyes looked like saucers as he watched Bobby’s retreat. He looked like someone kicked his puppy, rather than saying he shouldn’t do chores while recovering from severe injuries. The dichotomy made Sam huff a laugh, and Danny’s gaze snapped to him.

“It’s fine,” Sam explained. The kid was still in a new place with new people; the least Sam could do was make him a little more comfortable by explaining the house rules. “Give it a week before you try to help with anything. Bobby patched you up, he’s not gonna let you do any heavy lifting for a while.”

Knowing Bobby, a while in this case might mean until you’re old enough to vote. 

“Oh,” Danny said, sounding relieved. 

Sam smiled at him, then made his own way inside. He set the bags down on the counter, noticing the breakfast Dean had made. Then he noticed his brother and the sheepish expression he wore.

“Did Bobby tear you a new one too?” he asked dryly.

“Damn right,” Bobby said. “Good job on cooking for the kid, by the way.”

“He’s so skinny I could see his spleen,” Dean said, waving off the praise. “The least I can do is help make up for some of the meals he missed.”

Bobby nodded, and he and Sam made their way back out to grab the last of the groceries. Once outside, they saw Danny bending down to pick up… 

Was that a green and silver boomerang? 

“What’s that?” Sam asked, giving in to his curiosity.

Danny’s throat visibly worked as he swallowed hard. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “It’s, uh… it’s a tracking device. One my parents made.” 

Sam felt his stomach turn at that. “Should we be worried?” 

Danny hadn’t said that it was his parents who had hurt him. But given the circumstances, as well as everything the kid had said last night, the hunters could make an educated guess. Danny wouldn’t be the first abused kid to refuse to say anything bad about his abusive parents.

Given that set of variables, it seemed like a rather bad idea to have Danny’s parents knowing where he was.

Dean joined them outside, probably wondering what the holdup on the groceries was. 

“I’m not sure,” Danny said distractedly, pulling what looked like a note off the tracker. His eyes darted back and forth over the small page.

“It’s my sister and my friends,” he said finally. 

They were the ones who knew about Danny’s secret, Sam remembered. It was probably a good thing they were getting in touch, rather than a bad sign.

“Can I borrow a phone?” Danny asked, briefly looking up from the note before going back to scouring it for the secrets of the universe. “Mine’s… kinda busted.”

Dean caught Sam’s eye, and they nodded to each other. As Dean pulled out his phone, Sam quickly dialed it. Dean opened the phone and set up the call as a conference call, and Sam set his to mute. Now they had the ability to listen to the kid’s conversation, and to him it would just look like Dean was opening up a phone for someone young enough to not remember how flip phones worked.

“Thanks,” Danny said, taking the phone before flying up onto the roof.

The phone rang after a few minutes, and a young woman’s voice answered. “Hello?”

“Jazz?” came Danny’s tentative voice. “It’s me.”

When his sister’s voice returned, it was significantly louder, and accompanied by a strange noise that might have been Danny dropping the phone and scrambling to catch it again. “ Danny!”

After that, the three hunters listened in as the whole tale came to light. 

It was just as bad as they had thought. 

Most of the time, Sam liked being right. Sometimes though, he wished he was wrong. When being right meant that a kid had been abused? He wished he was wrong. When it meant that the sixteen year old kid talking on the phone had been dissected alive by his own parents ? That was a time Sam would have prayed to be wrong. 

The three hunters shared horrified looks as Danny described how he had been captured, tortured, and eventually escaped. He then recapped the events that followed: patching himself up, flying to their neck of the woods, and making a surprise appearance during the Winchesters’ hunt.

‘At least Danny had good friends’ was the slightly less dark side of the situation. They had the foresight to plan for this, even if that necessity made Sam’s skin crawl. The group of them had stashed first aid kits and go-bags for Danny around town. And on top of that, the three of them sounded like they were willing to walk through fire to keep Danny safe. 

Let’s put it this way: Sam was an experienced hunter. He had fought everything from garden variety ghosts up to the devil himself. And even after all that, he still wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of the three teens in Amity Park if they came searching for Danny. They were willing to throw their nice, normal lives away with both hands if they thought it would give them a chance of saving their friend.

The conversation ended with Danny saying he couldn’t come back home yet, but he would keep in touch. And if he needed to escape, his sister and friends would come and get him in a heartbeat.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby barely had time to school their expressions and put away Sam’s phone before Danny came walking back in to return the phone he borrowed from Dean.

Apparently that time wasn’t enough, because Danny took one look at the three of them and immediately asked, “How much of that did you hear?”

“What makes you think we heard any of it, Spooky?” Dean asked back, defensive.

Danny raised an eyebrow, the picture of an unimpressed teen. “A, because you’re all terrible liars and I can tell from your body language.”

That was a little unfair, in Sam’s opinion. They were great liars; had to be, as part of the job. It just wasn’t every day that they heard a story as awful as that one.

And anyway, it was Dean’s defensive answer that really gave the lie away.

Danny continued, “And B, because my best friend’s a techno-geek and I know when someone’s listening in on a phone conversation.” 

Sam had to smirk at that. The kid had spirit; everything he had gone through hadn’t managed to take that from him. It was good to hear him back to his normal sarcastic self after the horrors he had just described.

Dean reached over and smacked Sam’s shoulder for the smirk. “Shut up; we’re professional liars.”

Danny just shook his head and rolled his eyes at that. 

“So, you don’t have anywhere to stay, huh, kid,” Bobby said.

Danny’s grin fell as he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah… Dean said you’d be alright with me staying here until I healed up, but if not…”

A smart hunter kid in need, currently injured, and running from abusive parents? Sam would be surprised if Bobby didn’t try to adopt him before the end of the month. Staying at his house would be nothing. 

Bobby beat him to saying that. “That’s not where I was going. I was gonna say, would you like to stay here?”

“Like, until I got better?” Danny asked, staring in confusion.

More like for as long as you want, Sam thought.

“Like, as long as you’d like, “ Bobby said, echoing Sam’s thoughts. “I’ve got the space. Could use some company around here when these two idjits go off on a hunt.”

“Really?” Danny asked, sounding like he was afraid it was all too good to be true.

“Really,” Bobby assured him.

A small smile broke over Danny’s face. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Sam finished typing a line of code, then stood up and let Bobby retake his chair. “Okay, so get this. Last year Danny had B’s and C’s; the year before that it looks like he had to do… a lot of make-up work to keep from flunking entirely. Wow. But if we go back further…” He scrolled through the transcript he had pulled up. “Practically straight A’s, and aptitude tests showing he had the potential to do pretty much anything he wanted.”

Bobby grunted thoughtfully. “If the low grades were due to crappy sleep from hunting, and having to duck out of classes to fight whatever ghost thought to bother him at school, then he’d probably be a straight A student again without all that.”

Sam nodded. “So I’ll start looking into what high school classes can be taken online, or any GED prep classes.”

“College classes too,” Bobby added. “The kid’s plenty smart for them, and it’s not like we’re gonna dock points for going hunting.”

Sam nodded again. “I’ll look into college classes, especially math and science ones.”

“Between the three of us, we should be able to help him with whatever he needs more one-on-one teaching for, too,” Bobby said.

That made sense; Danny did seem to do best with one-on-one instruction rather than a group dynamic. “I can do the humanities, you can do science and whatever language he decides, and Dean can help with math and engineering courses.”

A thought occurred to Sam then. “We might have some convincing to do to get him to even try to take college level classes, though. He’s convinced that he’s the dumb kid in a family of geniuses.”

Bobby sighed and grumbled something like not a surprise, along with a few choice words about the adults Fenton. “We’ll figure it out. I’m just pissed that his dumbass parents couldn’t see what was right in front of them.”

Sam had to agree. The drop in grades, Danny’s change in behavior, increased distance from them, coming home late, coming home injured, all of it should have been some kind of red flag for the kid’s parents. But apparently not; the Fentons were happy to keep running around after ghosts and doing more harm than good rather than pay any attention to their son.

Then again, it wasn’t as if John had ever noticed when anything had happened to him or Dean.

This melancholy line of thought was interrupted by a scream.

So. Castiel had decided to pay a visit and scare Danny half to death (again, Sam thought, with the resigned impression that the kid’s dark humor and horrible puns were wearing off on him).

On the bright side, Danny was now (mostly) healed and warded from angels finding him.

On the dim side, they now had to worry about Heaven’s civil war wanting to pull a teenager in to act as a WMD.

Said teenager was now also reeling from the punches of learning he was supposed to go to heaven and now wouldn’t, angels were real and apparently terrifying (and the fact that Danny could see more than just their vessels was its own problem for another time), the apocalypse had started and been averted, and the angels were fighting over restarting it. Oh yeah. And wouldn’t hesitate to use him as a weapon in that fight.

“Okay. Can someone please explain to me, what just happened?” Danny asked, looking between the space where Castiel had been and the three hunters.

Dean waved a hand at the empty space where Cas had been. “That was Castiel, better known as Cas. Angel of the Lord, part time informant on things that go bump in the night, and full time inscrutable bastard.”

“He would rather fly off than explain himself,” Sam said, with only a touch of exasperation.

Sam and Dean shared a look. Cas usually had more to say than that if he bothered to come by, though. It made them curious about if he had held anything back because of Danny’s presence.

Bobby seemed to catch on to the Winchesters’ shared thoughts. “Why don’t you boys go get some more medical supplies. Like you said, we’re running low.”

Danny looked at the hunters, expression clearly saying yeah, right without him having to say a word. “You’re not subtle. I hope you know that. That wouldn’t pass for subtle even if I tilted my head, squinted my eyes, and was concussed.”

Bobby shrugged, unrepentant. “It’s my house; I ain’t gotta be subtle. Now that Cas healed you up, we need to take your stitches out. Unless you want to keep glowing fishing line in your chest as a permanent decoration.”

Danny gave the Winchesters one last suspicious look, then followed Bobby towards the bathroom where they kept the medical supplies.

Sam and Dean took their cue and left, driving the Impala away from Bobby’s house. As much as they wanted to talk to Cas some more, Bobby actually wasn’t kidding about needing to replenish some of the med kit. This way they could kill two birds with one stone: find a nice spot in the middle of nowhere to talk to Cas, then finish driving to town for their supply run.

Sam drummed his fingers on the dashboard, thinking about Danny and all the shit he had been through. “How was he?”

Dean tilted his head from side to side. “Seemed fine enough during the day today. Made jokes, smiled, had a good attitude about it all. But I was up last night and heard him talking in his sleep. Sounded like the kid was having one hell of a nightmare.”

“Could you tell what about?”

“Well. He definitely said the phrase ‘I’m still your son’ at one point.”

Sam winced. That was… not great. They were no strangers to nightmares, but Danny’s seemed bad even by their standards. “And he still won’t talk about his parents?”

“And changes the subject any time I try to talk about them,” Dean confirmed.

Sam shook his head, still having trouble grasping that Danny had been literally cut open by his parents, but he still refused to say anything bad about them.

"How long do you think it'll take the kid to accept that his parents are abusive?" he asked Dean.

Dean snorted. "How long did it take us?"

Sam didn’t have a good answer for that. Some days, he still hadn’t accepted it.

They continued the drive in relative silence, Dean’s musical selections playing softly in the background.

Eventually, they found a nice spot in the middle of nowhere and pulled off into a field to park. They both got out and leaned against the car.

“You should do it,” Sam said. “He answers you way more than he answers me. ‘Profound bond’ and all.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together in a mockingly prayerful position. “Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics. It would be so much easier if Dean and Cas would just come out and admit their feelings already, but no. Sam was stuck watching the sexual tension and mutual pining.

“C’mon, give us a hand here, Cas,” Dean said, exasperated. “We’d like some damn explanations, please!”

The distinctive sound of feathers ruffling, and then, “About what.”

Sam turned. Cas had popped up behind them, on the other side of the car. He was frowning even more than usual; maybe all the flying around Earth to talk with them had made the dude extra grumpy.

“About Danny,” Sam said. Dean seemed to be too busy ogling Cas to properly question the angel.

Cas nodded slowly. “Of course, the young halfbreed.”

Dean and Sam both winced at the term.

“That’s a little, uh, harsh, don’t you think?” Dean asked.

“Why?” Cas asked, tilting his head to one side. “It’s what he is. He is neither of this dimension nor the next; he’s halfway in between.”

“He used the term ‘halfa’,” Sam said. “Maybe use that instead of halfbreed? That one’s a bit… insensitive.”

Cas considered this, then nodded. “I assume that’s not what you asked me here to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “What gives? You take three days to answer, then just show up, ward the kid, and poof off again?”

“You don’t ward just anyone,” Sam said. “You only warded us because we were being hunted. So who exactly is the kid, and why is he important enough to get angel wards?”

Cas looked a bit like he’d bitten a lemon thinking it was an orange: disappointed and disgusted. “I told you. He’s a powerful being from a dimension that rarely interacts with Heaven or Earth.”

Dean looked as skeptical as Sam felt at that statement. “He’s a sixteen year old kid who’s been traumatized halfway to hell by his parents.”

“Which you made worse, by the way,” Sam added. “You scared the shit out of him.”

“So who is he to you,” Dean asked, “and why is he so important to your whole civil war?”

Cas scowled. “My ‘people skills’ are ‘rusty’,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes to emphasize his point. “That ‘kid’ as you call him is a powerful entity. He might have been human originally, but he isn’t now. He has enough power to change the course of the war in Heaven.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, half in shock and half in disbelief. The traumatized kid they’d taken down with rock salt and a crowbar was powerful enough to defeat angels? Sam knew Danny wasn’t at his best when they first met, but that seemed a bit much.

Dean was apparently thinking along the same lines. “Danny’s still just a kid, no matter what he went through and what powers he has.”

“Anyway,” Sam said, “isn’t there still an archangel in the fight?”

“Raphael,” Cas confirmed.

“Right,” Sam continued. “So you’re saying that Danny is powerful enough to help you beat an archangel.”

It sounded like bull. But by Castiel’s face, he wasn’t joking.

“At his strongest,” Cas said, “the child is powerful enough to beat an archangel on his own.”

Well.

Shit.

Dean echoed Sam’s thoughts. “Well, shit.”

“No wonder you warded him,” Sam said. Thinking of all that power in the hands of Raphael and his followers, thinking of what they would do to Danny to get him to use that power, was enough to make him shudder.

Cas nodded. “Now you understand.”

“So what do we do?” Dean asked. “Since we’ve apparently got a WMD disguised as a teenager living with us.”

Cas still had enough people skills to shrug. “Help him heal. Keep him out of trouble. Don’t let him draw attention to himself.”

Then the angel disappeared.

The brothers looked at each other.

“So,” Dean said. “Maybe we don’t tell the kid about the ‘halfbreed’ comment.”

“You think?” Sam asked sarcastically. “I’m more concerned about the whole ‘used to be human’ thing. He definitely doesn’t need to know about that.”

“No more than he already does,” Dean agreed.

“Other than that…” Sam trailed off.

“We just keep doing what we’re doing?” Dean finished. “Yeah.”

“That means he was hurt even worse than we thought, you know,” Sam said. “If he should be powerful enough to take down an archangel, and we managed to get him with rock salt and a crowbar? That’s a hell of a gap.”

Dean gave a ‘what can you do’ grimace/shrug combination. “Dunno what to do about that, though. Other than maybe check with his friends back in Weirdsville and see if they have any clue.”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nod, “good idea.”

They got back into the Impala and continued driving to town.

So. Not only was Danny a traumatized, far-too-young hunter who’d been abused by his parents. He was also an extremely powerful traumatized, far-too-young hunter who’d been abused by his parents.

That was going to be a fun combination to deal with.

Sam shook his head. All they could do was help the kid heal, and wait for the rest. They’d deal with it if and when it happened. Just like always.

Chapter Text

Sam was disassembling a few of his most used guns and preparing the items needed for cleaning when he overheard Danny on the phone.

He didn’t really mean to eavesdrop. Not as such, anyway. It was more that… well, he was already there, and Danny started talking, and he was curious. 

-----------------

“Tucker— what? You ran a backgro— why did you run a background check on them?”

“Yes, I knew that they hacked the school records for my transcript! Because they told me, that’s how! They’re using it to help me get enrolled in classes for a GED, since it isn’t like I can just finish up school at Casper High.”

A scoff. “Yeah, and according to the news, I’m public enemy #1 who kidnapped the mayor and enjoys stealing jewelry and menacing innocent civilians as my major hobbies. Since when do we trust the news?”

“And I’m sure national news outlets are just as subject to not believing the truth when it involves weird shit as local ones! They were probably hunting something and the stories got messed up.”

“Yes, please keep looking. If anyone can find the underlying truth and weirdness, it’s you. No I’m not! It’s not flattery if it’s true!”

Danny laughed. “The basics: math, history, science. I have to pick a foreign language still. Yeah, no— Sam, give Tucker back the phone! Uuuuuugh.”

“Fine, fine. Specifics! Sure. Whatever. Just, put me on speaker; don’t cut Tuck out like that. Intro to calculus; some course on how every history we get taught is so Euro-centric and ignoring the contributions of literally everywhere else; a generic literature course; anatomy and physiology. I’m thinking Latin, probably.”

“Seriously, that’s the one you have an issue with?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yes, the contributions of places other than Europe are equally or more important and undervalued, yes! You’ve mentioned it once or twice or fifty million times.” He sounded amused rather than annoyed. 

“I can take physics and chemistry another time. Maybe even start them next semester.”

“I’m pretty sure that dream went out the window when I stopped being able to pass a normal physical, Sam. No, it’s not negative self-talk; I’m being realistic here. Can you honestly tell me that you think I could pass NASA’s entrance exam without my readings getting me sent to a hospital? Or a lab? ”

“It’s got a focus on first aid training, that’s why.”

“Yeah, I mean obviously I want to make sure bystanders are okay.”

“And nothing; why do you think I’m hiding something?”

“Yeah; yes, I understand that, but—”

“Dammit, Sam, this isn’t about you—”

“For fuck’s sake Sam, why can’t you leave anything alone! Fine! You wanna know why I’m taking the fucking class? I want to make sure that if anything like this ever happens again, I’ll know which spot to shove my own goddamn organs back into!”

A long pause. 

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

A weak huff of laughter. “Uh. Can I plead the fifth on that? A little insensitive, but it’s not like this is your standard territory for relationship fights.”

“I… I’m not trying to, but it’s just… everything’s changed, and I can’t just pretend that it hasn’t.”

“Yeah. I’ll try.”

“You do that. Let me know what you find out.”

Soft laugh. “Yeah, I will. Say hi to Jazz for me.”

“Bye guys.”

-----------------

Sam was going to try his hardest to pretend he hadn’t heard that, at least to Danny’s face. He should bring it up with Dean and Bobby, and probably the kid’s sister, so they could keep figuring out the best way to help him.

Danny wanted to get some control back, it seemed. He felt like he had no control, so he was doing what he could to get some. And trying to prevent himself from being hurt again, too… 

Hm. That gave him an idea.

“Hey, Danny?” Sam called.

A few thumps answered him, like Danny had tripped on something. “Yeah?”

“Come on down when you get a chance,” Sam said. 

“Uh… sure thing,” Danny called back. “It’s about time for second breakfast anyway.”

Sam laughed. “More like elevensies, but sure.”

Trust the kid to make a hobbit joke out of his starvation recovery meal plan. That was either a good sign that he was getting more comfortable with the hunters, or a sign that he was doing his best to ignore everything that happened to him with the help of humor.

Yeah, he definitely needed to talk to the kid’s sister. She was much better at the psychology stuff than Sam.

Danny came into the room with a plate in one hand and a water bottle tucked under his arm. His other hand was occupied with half a sandwich.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Danny asked, his mouth full. His eyes grew wide as he took in the scene. “And why does it look like an armory threw up in here?”

Sam bit back a smile at that. Danny wasn’t wrong; Sam had a good number of guns disassembled and laid out, along with all the other tools necessary for cleaning and maintenance. 

“Weapon care,” Sam explained. “Gotta make sure they’re in good condition.”

Danny swallowed and said, “Right. So… why am I here?”

Sam shrugged. “Figured I’d start teaching you about guns. Maintenance and cleaning is a good place to start.”

Sam knew that Danny wasn’t the most comfortable around guns. It made sense, given how they had shot him and all. The thought still made him wince inwardly. But they were hunters; guns were a necessary part of their trade. If Danny was going to live here, it was the least Sam could do to help make the kid a little more comfortable around the weapons. They were tools, and ones that Danny should know how to use.

And learning how to use and care for guns would help give the kid back some sense of control, too, hopefully.

Danny perched on a chair, balancing his plate on his knee. “If you say so.”

Sam started cleaning the guns, explaining what he was doing as he worked. He figured he’d do a demonstration first, then let Danny take a turn. 

He was also very firmly ignoring his thoughts about Adam, the last kid he’d taught this to.

Eventually, Sam said, “I owe you an apology.”

“What?” Danny asked. He sounded sincerely surprised. 

Sam gave a humorless smile at that. No one should be that shocked at hearing an apology. 

“Dean and I both owe you an apology,” he continued.

Danny shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Dean already apologized. And like I told him: freaky kid flies near hunters, hunters shoot. It’s logical enough.”

Sam shook his head. Danny was far too kind. “Regardless of what you think, we still owe you an apology. You weren’t doing anything wrong, and we’ve been at this far too long to default to shooting first and asking questions later.”

Danny looked taken aback. “Oh. Um. Thanks, I guess?”

Sam shook his head again, this time with a smile. He went back to cleaning the guns, explaining what he was doing as he worked. 

“I had powers for a while,” Sam said finally. 

Danny raised his eyebrows. “Really? What kind?”

“Precognition,” Sam said. “A little telekinesis, too. But mostly, I had death visions.”

Danny made a face. “Shit. That’s… that really sucks.” 

The response was so very teenager that it startled a laugh from Sam. “Yeah, it kind of did. I don’t miss it.”

“I bet,” Danny said. “Ugh. At least mine have some fun aspects to them.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, curious. “What’s your favorite?”

“Flying,” Danny said promptly. He smiled a little, a faraway look in his eyes. “There’s nothing like it. Flying at night, just you and the stars? It’s amazing.”

“Sounds like it,” Sam said. 

Danny looked at him curiously. “Why tell me about it? Your powers, I mean.”

The kid was smart, and observant. Sam shouldn’t be surprised by that, but somehow he kept underestimating Danny. He sighed as he tried to find the words to answer. 

“Dean owed you an apology because his behavior was shitty,” Sam said. “I owe you an apology because I’ve been in your situation.”

Danny frowned. “What do you mean? You got hunted for your powers, too?”

Sam nodded. “You know how you told your friends that since you weren’t hurting people, you didn’t count as huntable? Not all hunters feel the same way. There are some who consider anything supernatural to be fair game. There was one we met who was… well, he was a piece of work. His name was Gordon Walker. Dean and I first met him when he was hunting a nest of vampires that weren’t even drinking human blood. When we learned he was hunting them just because of what they were, rather than anything they were doing, we had a bit of a disagreement. We got the rest of the vampires to safety, and went our separate ways.”

That was an understatement, but Danny didn’t need to know about the nasty fight involved.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t the end of it,” Danny said cautiously.

“Nope,” Sam said. “That was before he knew about me and my powers. Once he did, he captured Dean to use him as bait for me. I got Dean out, and Gordon got arrested on weapons charges for all the guns and grenades he had set up.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Danny said. 

Sam smiled. “Yeah. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. Eventually he broke out of jail and still kept coming after me.”

“What happened to him?” Danny asked. 

“He got turned into a vampire, and I killed him,” Sam said. He wasn’t going to go into any of the details. 

Danny grimaced. “Well. That’s… I’m glad he’s not coming after you any more, but… yikes.”

“Yikes indeed,” Sam said with a huff of laughter. 

“That’s really shitty, that that happened to you,” Danny said. 

“Thanks,” Sam said. How the hell was this kid so kind even after everything he’d been through? 

“My point,” Sam continued, “is that it’s just as shitty that that happened to you. And I’ve been in your situation.”

More than Danny knew, even. Sam might not have been directly hunted by his dad, but John Winchester still gave Dean the task of putting Sam down if he couldn’t be saved. 

“I of all people should have known better,” Sam said. “I’m sorry.”

Danny looked at him seriously, considering his words for a moment. “Thanks,” he said finally. “I accept your apology.”

Sam smiled and let out a relieved sigh. An accepted apology was a lot better than Danny trying to brush off what had happened. 

Maybe they were finally making some progress.

Chapter Text

Sam had actually started to forget that he once found Danny scary. It was hard to be afraid of a dorky kid who loved puns and struggled with his math homework.

Seeing Danny confront Crowley had made the emotion come rushing back. 

None of them particularly liked the demon king. He was an ass, but usually a useful one. As long as their goals and Crowley’s aligned at least a little, it was better to have him in their corner than to fight against him. 

Danny had seemed fairly calm for most of the encounter. Wary, sure; ready to fight, definitely. But it wasn’t until the very end that something Crowley said pushed Danny from “wary” to “scary”. 

It was like seeing a switch flip. Crowley held out his business card, and Danny… Danny went too quiet. Too still. He suddenly became the supernatural other that raised the hunters’ hackles when they first met. He was no longer wary or trying to get information. 

He was a predator defending its territory from another. 

Crowley had made what might have been his only smart decision of the day and hightailed it out of there, leaving behind nothing but the business card he’d extended to the kid. 

Danny retrieved it with inhuman grace and spent a long moment staring at it.

Then he calmly— too calmly—set the card on fire. 

His hand lit up with toxic green flames that made the area colder rather than warmer. The light made his skin look corpse-pale, a dead thing that refused to stay in its grave.

His hand trembled where it held the flames.

As suddenly as the change first occurred, Danny was back to being… just a kid. A kid who was far from okay. Danny was breathing hard enough that Sam could see it, the rapid inhale and harsh exhale of someone about to absolutely lose their shit.

Sam met Dean and Bobby’s eyes. They looked as concerned about it as he was.

“Try not to let him get to you,” Dean offered. “He’s a world-class asshole with centuries of practice manipulating people.”

Danny’s face contorted like he wasn’t sure what expression fit best. He was still staring into the spot where he had held the business card, even after the ashen remains had floated to the ground. 

Sam guessed that meant it was his turn to attempt some damage control. 

“We’re done for today,” he said, voice gentle as he could manage. He gave a small smile, trying to be reassuring and not sure if he managed it. “Why don’t you head back inside? We’ll clean up out here.” 

The three hunters shared another look. Dean and Bobby both nodded, catching on to Sam’s beginnings of a plan. 

Bobby coaxed the kid back inside with jokes at the Winchesters’ expense. Sam didn’t mind. Whatever it took to get that thousand-yard stare off Danny’s face.

The brothers stood in silence for a moment as the two made their way back to the house.

“We still got all the gear we need in the car?” Sam asked finally.

Dean nodded. “I was thinking the abandoned factory.”

Sam gave a grim smile.

“Then let’s go summon a demon.”

---

Dean finished lighting the candles, flicked his lighter closed, and handed it to Sam. He’d prepared the candles and sigils while Sam mixed the herbs and other ingredients needed to summon Crowley. Sam used the lighter to set the mixture aflame while reciting the Latin incantation. 

Crowley appeared in the pre-drawn devil’s trap with his usual smug smirk. “If it isn’t my two favorite lumbering piles of flannel.”

Maybe if Sam filled a squirt bottle with holy water, he could start training the demon to be less of an ass. It worked with cats, right?

“If it isn’t our least favorite Limey bastard,” Dean shot back. 

“And how do you know my mother wasn’t married?”

“What’s your problem with the kid?” Sam cut in. As entertaining as a snark-fest with Crowley might be, this wasn’t the time. 

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Problem? Who said I have a problem?”

“The way you pissed him off says it,” Sam said. 

“And while you’re at it, go ahead and throw in some damn answers about your cryptic bullshit,” Dean added. 

Sam nodded. “Who is he to you, and why do you want him on your team so bad?”

“The fuck did you mean about him being royalty?” Dean asked.

“Why did he react so poorly to you saying he’d get in touch eventually?” was Sam’s addition.

Crowley looked less than impressed with their interrogation. “And which of those am I supposed to answer first?” 

Sam and Dean both glared.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, boys.”

“How do you know Danny, and why do you care what team he’s on?” Sam asked. 

Crowley paused for a moment before saying, “Oh, you’re serious. I thought it was the part of the day where we all say stupid things out loud.”

Sam thought longingly of a squirt bottle filled with holy water. Dean looked like he was contemplating how deep he could stab the demon without it being fatal.

Some of what they were feeling must have shown, because Crowley continued. “It’s like I told the kid: I have my sources. And it’s always a good strategy to have important and powerful people owe you a favor or three.”

“Powerful, sure,” Sam said. Castiel had already told them that much. “But important?”

“You called him a prince,” Dean said. “I’m gonna guess that you meant that literally.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean. Do try to keep up.”

“Prince of… the Zone?” Sam asked, thinking back to what Crowley had said when he showed up in Bobby’s backyard. 

“The hell is that, anyway?” Dean asked.

“Not hell,” Crowley said. “Not heaven, either. Or Limbo, or Purgatory. It’s its own dimension, nestled right up alongside all of ours. Its inhabitants are known for being isolationist and hostile to outsiders, and somehow, you two end up with the one inhabitant known for his soft spot for humanity falling practically into your laps.”

“And it’s just called the Zone?” Dean asked, while Sam was still trying to process the new information.

“Wait, not just ‘the Zone’,” Sam said, thinking back to Danny’s first night at Bobby’s and the conversation they’d had in the panic room. “The Ghost Zone.”

Dean’s expression was pure disbelief. “I call bull. The kid, I can see him using a stupid name like that. But you?” He looked Crowley up and down and scoffed. 

“Well its true name would be a tad difficult for you two morons to pronounce, and I doubt you’d have recognized it if I used any other term for it,” Crowley said, not even bothering to hide his condescending smirk. “I was trying to be polite.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said. 

“What’s the weather like in Hell these days? Has it finally frozen over?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“It’s a balmy and boring 72 degrees Fahrenheit, if you must know,” the demon answered.

It would have to be a rather large squirt bottle, Sam decided. Aloud, he said, “Well, this is all fascinating to learn. And I’m sure the kid was just as happy as we are to hear your extensive knowledge on the subject.”

“AKA annoyed as hell,” Dean muttered.

“But that doesn’t explain what exactly it was that you said that pissed him off at the end,” Sam finished.

“Ah,” Crowley said. “That.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line, looking almost…

Sheepish?

“You tipped your hand, didn’t you?” Dean asked, sounding as incredulously gleeful as Sam felt. “You didn’t actually mean to piss him off that bad. You made a mistake.”

Crowley looked like he’d bitten into a lemon thinking it was an orange: annoyed, disgusted, and outraged. “Yes, well. I might have underestimated just how much of an effect on young Danny that some events still have.”

“What could you possibly have mentioned to make him react like that?” Sam asked, incredulous.

Crowley sighed, exasperated. “Honestly. You have one alternate future where you end up going insane and destroying the world, and that becomes the only thing you focus on!”

Wait. What?

Dean helpfully voiced the question, adding in a few more colorful words as well.

“Let’s just say that you aren’t the only one to be given a glimpse at a rather bleak future, Squirrel,” Crowley said. 

Dean’s jaw clenched. Sam had only gotten a terse explanation of the post-apocalyptic wasteland that the angels had sent Dean to see, but it was enough. If Danny’s trip had been anything like Dean’s… 

“Wait. So Danny was shown a timeline where he went nuts and destroyed the world. You brought it up. And you didn’t think it would be an issue?” Sam asked, incredulous. 

“Dan Phantom and that future were only one possibility, and one that he’s already taken ample steps to avoid,” Crowley said. “How was I supposed to know that he’d still be sensitive about it?!”

“Because he’s a kid, and he has a heart,” Dean said with disgust. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“Yes, well. Mistakes were made,” Crowley said lightly. “Now. Seeing as how I’ve answered all your questions, would you mind letting me out of this bloody trap? I have a kingdom to run.”

Dean gave an exasperated sigh and scratched at the spray paint of the devil’s trap with a knife. Once the sigil was broken, Crowley disappeared. 

The brothers packed everything back into the Impala and headed back towards Bobby’s. Throughout the drive, Sam couldn’t shake the sense that there was something they were missing. Crowley was too good a manipulator to just make a mistake like that. 

So what other layers of manipulation were in play?

And how would this come back to bite them later?