Supernatural: The Next Generation

I’m about to share a fanfic that I wrote shortly after the Supernatural finale aired.  As of right now, only one chapter exists.  I had hoped to expand on it, and perhaps write a whole spinoff series about Sam’s son Dean.  You know, the next generation.   I shared it with Nightsky and Nate Winchester in early 2021 and then…nothing.  I shelved it due to lack of time.  I especially laughed at it when The Winchesters spinoff was announced and went to series.  I dismiss this concept as low level fan fiction and that the pros had come up with something better.   But now that The Winchesters is over and it was a big disappointment, I figured, why not share it?  I’ve got nothing to lose.  My biggest risk is that people might actually like this idea and I have to keep writing it.  I have so many ideas on where to go with this, but I’m still not sure if I should proceed.  Will there be interest in a story about another Winchester that isn’t Sam or Dean?  I guess I won’t know until I share it.  

I didn’t have a title for this, so Nightsky labeled it Supernatural: The Next Generation as a working title.  I think it’s brilliant!  So, enjoy this kickoff chapter of a story that could potentially drive Dean Winchester II into the world of hunting.  

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“What a freaking mess.”  The young man wearily rolled through the room, examining the damage from the two day event, too tired to even try and negotiate the clean up.  He scratched the back of his head and decided a drink would be more appropriate instead.  While his Dad’s wake, salt and burn was a huge success, it did it leave him exhausted.  His sleepless night didn’t help, something he attributed to the stress of all that had happened recently. 

He kicked through a pile of trash on his way to the living room, the same one where he said goodbye to his Dad a week earlier.  He poured himself a whiskey and stared at the family legacy wall, smiling that they were all watching over him.  He raised his glass in a toast and took a sip.  “May we all be together someday.” 

“You might get that wish sooner than you think,” a voice said behind him.  He whipped around, stunned by the uninvited visitor.  “I don’t think I’ve had that much to drink yet.  You must be real.” 

“Hello Boy,” the guest said with a smile.  There were three of them, two big goons in nice suits, and a red headed woman in red jumper with a red cape in the center of them both.  She smiled as she wandered around the room, scanning the pictures of all the Winchesters.

“You’re a little late for the wake.  It ended about…yesterday,” he said, looking at his watch.  “I’m assuming you’ve come to pay your respects?  My name is Dean W…”

“Winchester, the second,” she said, finishing his sentence.  “Please to meet your acquaintance.”  She smiled and circled Dean, inspecting him head to toe with her eyes.  “My, my, the Winchester looks didn’t escape you.  You have your uncle’s dreamy build, but your Dad’s moppy hair.  Quite a looker I say.” 

Dean instantly caught onto the Scottish accent and bombastic speech.  This chick had quite the flare for the dramatic.  He cocked his head with a half smirk in curiosity.  “You often show up after funerals and flirt with the son of the deceased?  Sounds a bit demonic, don’t you think?  Oh wait…”

She chuckled.  “You’ve got you Dad’s brains too.  My, my, we were practically besties, until he killed me.  I’m surprised my picture isn’t up on that wall.”  She continued her scan of the room.  “Sure, it’s been about 45 years since we saw each other, but I’m a hard one to forget.  Did he talk about me a lot?” 

Dean smiled, pointing his finger at his unannounced guest, his suspicions confirmed.  “You must be Rowena.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied.  Rowena glanced at the set of books behind Dean, pointing to the rather primitive collection.  “A lot of those grimoires are mine.  Daddy teach you any of the craft?”

“Witchcraft?  Sure I dabbled a bit.  Dad was the real expert.  He used magic to keep us all safe.” 

Rowena’s face lit up.  “He did talk about me!  Oh Samuel, he was such a good lad.  Quite sad, having to grow old without his brother.  Seems you were a wee bit of a consolation prize.”

Rowena maintained her big smile and moved to a particular book on the library shelf.  The Book of the Damned.   “Shouldn’t this be in a more secure spot?  This is a highly sought after artifact in the secular world.  Wouldn’t want this falling into the wrong hands.” 

“It seems my Uncle said the same thing when you came into possession of this book.  From what I heard, he didn’t like you very much.” 

“Oh, he liked me when he needed my help, which was often.  I don’t know how he and your Dad managed to get on without me.”  She spotted the Supernatural novels on the shelf below the Book of the Damned.  “Oh, that’s probably why you know so much about your namesake Uncle.  Heartbreaking, aren’t those little books?  Sam Winchester, the unfortunate hero, and his big brother Dean, making it his life’s mission to protect him until the day he died.”  She scanned the entire volume.  “Huh, “Carry On.  It looks like Chuck finished the entire story.  Must have been a bit hard to read, no?” 

“I think the last volumes were ghost writing.  They don’t have quite the same flare as the earlier works.  Liberties with facts were made.”

Rowena finished her scan of the room and took a seat on the couch.  “While I’ve enjoyed catching up, I’ll get to why I’m here.  I need your help.”

“My help?  What in the world can I do to help the Queen of Hell?  Or I’m assuming that’s still your title?” 

“Of course.  I’ve had a lot of challengers, but they’re no match for my skills.  I’ve been beating them down for years.   However, I have a new foe.  This dastardly demon has decided to work an old playbook, one your father was way too familiar with.”

“Not following. What does that have to do with me?” 

“Well, if you read those Supernatural books, you know that everything starts on that one fateful night, your Dad’s six month birthday.  He was visited by the yellow-eyed demon, Azazel, and fed demon blood.  Then that vile demon burned your poor grandmother on the ceiling.”

“Book one, right. And… 

“This demon is going after the children of those he infected.” 

Dean thought this through for a few seconds.  “How can that be?  They were all 22 years old and slaughtered each other.  My Dad was the only one that survived.  How can there be anyone except me?”    

“When Azazel returned after 22 years, he did infect some others, kind of an insurance policy in case his grand plan didn’t work.  Not many, but a dozen or so.  But you are right about one thing, there was only one offspring from the original bunch, and that is you young Dean.” 

“Why would he want me, and why is that a threat to you?”

Rowena smiled.  “Dig deeper young Dean.” 

It suddenly clicked.  “Are you saying that my Dad passed on the demon blood to me?”  Dean tried to absorb that shock of that one.  Did he really inherit his father’s curse?  The one thing that tortured him his entire life?  The thing that made him feel like an outsider in his own skin?  But as quickly as those thoughts raced through his head, so did the questions. 

“That can’t be right.  I don’t have any of the signs he had.”

Rowena patted the seat next to her, inviting Dean to sit down.  He hesitated at first, then joined her. 

“You sure, no signs?  Any premonitions about people dying?”

“Nope.”

“No mind control abilities, zapping people or pets with your fingers, moving objects with the mind?”

“I think I would have noticed those abilities.”

“Any strange nightmares?”

Dean froze a bit at that one.  “I had a vivid dream last night.”

“Vivid?”

“It was weird.  There was a baby in a crib, someone I presumed to be my Dad, and a man was standing over him feeding him some of his blood.  Then my grandmother came in, his eyes flashed yellow and he pinned her to the ceiling.  Then there was an explosion…”  Dean stopped there, realizing that was not just an ordinary dream. 

“And she burned to death on that ceiling,” Rowena finished.  “Book one.” 

“I don’t know, I woke up before seeing all that.” 

“But you know a few seconds later your grandfather rushed in, grabbed your Dad, put him in your Uncle Dean’s arms and sent them out of the house.  A pivotal night in the Winchester family history.” 

“Why would I be dreaming about that?  That was the past, not a premonition.” 

“Yes, why would you be?  It could just be the stress from recent events.  I do have another test.”  Rowena motioned to one of her lackeys, who produced a small knife from his pocket.  She removed it from the sleeve, admiring the craft work.      

“There’s one way we can find out.”  She handed Dean the knife.  He stared at her skeptically, and then rolled up his sleeve.  He pulled the knife across his forearm until blood appeared.  Rowena swiped her finger in the wound, scoring a few drops of blood.  She placed the finger in her mouth, and then offered Dean a tissue to clean up his wound. 

“Eww, that’s a bit gross,” he said, wiping his arm with the accepted Kleenex. 

Rowena tasted the drops a little longer, pondering the flavor.  “It definitely has that tinge of sulfur.  I’m not sure if it’s enough to start a demon war, but whoever this foe is, they might be onto something.” 

“So, you want me to help you beat this phantom enemy?  How do I know it’s not you?”

Rowena feigned offense.  “Please, I’m here as a favor to your Father.  I would never hurt his own flesh and blood.  I owe him everything.” 

“He killed you.” 

“It worked out.” 

Dean leaned back on the couch, trying to process all this in his tired state, having more of the drink he poured before his unwanted guest arrived.  “Wait, I thought the trials purified him.” 

“I think you know the answer to that.  Blame your Uncle.  He stopped your father from finishing them.” 

“Yeah, because they were supposed to end with him dead.” 

“See, it worked out.” 

Dean stood up, running his hand through his thick hair.  “Why would this demon come now?  I’ve been around for 36 years.” 

Rowena’s expression dropped a bit.  “Well, after your Uncle died, myself and Castiel, who was speaking for the new God, made a deal.  No one was to ever harm Sam Winchester or his family, or suffer a horrible wrath.  It was a blood oath bound by the most powerful magic imaginable.  If anything supernatural even tried – monster, angel, demon, demi-god, reaper – they would be burned to ashes.  Even humans weren’t spared.  However…”

“It ended when my Dad died.”    

“I’m afraid so.”  Rowena picked up on Dean’s distress.   “Look, I’m sure this is a lot to process, especially since you just had to say goodbye to your Dad.  Remember, what saved him was his good soul.  He wouldn’t allow himself to be consumed by evil.  You’ve got that inside you too.”  She reached in her pocket and pulled out a small burlap sac.  “Take this.  It will hide you from whoever is coming after you.  Make sure you always have it.  I’ll do more digging for who the traitor in my ranks is.” 

Dean shook his head and took the sac.  “Thank you, I guess.  But what saved my Dad wasn’t just his soul.  It was his brother too.  I’ve got…pictures on a wall.” 

Rowena smiled and grabbed him hand.  “Fret not young Dean, you’ve got more allies out there than you think.” 

Dean learned early on that trusting demons was bad, but his Dad trusted Rowena, so he had to as well.  “Thanks.”    

Rowena went to the bookshelf and pulled out one of her grimoires.  “Here.  That book tells you how to summon the leader of Hell.  Do that spell if you need to contact me.” 

“You guys still don’t have cell service in Hell?  Guess I won’t be building my summer home there.”

“What a chip off the old Uncle,” she replied with a big smile.   She summoned her guards.  “I’ll be back young Dean.  Watch yourself.”  Within a flash they were gone. 

“Yeah, nice meeting you.”  Dean grabbed his drink, finishing the entire contents in one gulp. 

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Thank you for indulging me.  All feedback welcome!