Those Who Wander III

Based on an idea from an American Gods LARP, and a late night discussion with my little sister. Sort of a crossover with American Gods, as it's set in that world, and since it's a sequel to two Pretender fics, it is, by extension, sort of a crossover with that as well. Damien previously appeared in my Supernatural fic "New Player".

"Well," Damien sighed, leaning back in the booth. "It has been one hell of a year hasn't it."

Sam frowned. He had never made up his mind about Damien to begin with. For one thing he'd been too busy dealing with Abadon, Crowley and Metatron to even begin to figure out this guy.

And now he showed up as mysteriously as he had before, and invited himself to sit at Sam's table. And he had someone in tow this time.

"Damien." He said cautiously. It was almost a greeting. Almost.

"Sammy. Good to see you. Whether or not you're glad to see me."

Sam glowered. Only Dean got to call him that. Damien took the hint.

"Right, sorry. Sam."

"At least he didn't call you Precious." Damien's companion smirked. He was wearing a long green hooded jacket, plastered with patches and buttons. They all seemed to be souvenirs of various attractions.

"Who's your friend?" Sam asked the Lilim.

"Oh, haven't you two met?" Damien grinned. He was wearing different sunglasses than he'd been the first time Sam had seen him. But as before, he never removed them.

"No." the younger Winchester brother said automatically. But then he looked again. He hadn't ever seen this guy before. He was sure of it. And yet something about him seemed utterly familiar. Sam just got the oddest impression that he knew this guy, and very well. "No." he said again, but doubtfully.

"Sam," Damien said, more seriously this time. "This is Christopher. I brought him here to meet you. Let me guess, he seems familiar to you?"

Sam didn't answer. What game was Damien playing?

Christopher reached out his hand to shake Sam's. For an instant, Sam looked into his eyes and felt…something. Some deep longing for something he couldn't identify. And the sense of familiarity increased.

"We've sort of met before Sam." He said. "Me and your brother. And Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Garth, your father, Grandfather, hell, every hunter. I'm the anthropomorphic personification of the open road. Of the nomadic spirit, and wanderlust."

Sam said nothing for a moment. "That's going to take some figuring out."

"Take your time old friend." Christopher smiled. "But that's the reason you feel like you know me. You're a nomad. Even with a home base like you have now, you have a yearning to travel. And travel by road."

"Right I got that." Sam said. His annoyance and mistrust of Damien was forgotten for the moment. Here was a new mystery to solve. "But, anthropomorphic personification?"

"It's a mouthful right? I'm not sure I can really explain it. But I'll try. Mankind has always had a habit of putting a face to ideas and natural forces. Sometimes that's Gods. Thor, Poseidon, Horus, folks like that. Sometimes it's even more abstract than that. The American Dream, the American fighting spirit became Uncle Sam. I became Christopher. "

"Patron saint of travelers?"

"That's the one. I'm not certain there's a concrete connection between us besides the name and the general idea. But given that the saints are around…" he shrugged. "They do well in Catholic areas.

"Anyway, I wanted to meet you. And Dean, but I understand there's uh, some issues going on in that regard. Which, judging by the death stare you're giving me, you'd rather not get into just now. Fair enough."

"Why us specifically?"

"Because you two have transcended mortality my boy!" Damien broke in. He wasn't good at keeping out of conversations. "And we're not talking about how often you've died and come back. Though that's very impressive none-the-less."

"Dude, you mind?" Christopher said irritably. "I don't horn in on your Lilim/Nephilim schtick."

Sam thought though, he knew what Damien meant. "Are you saying, that somehow me and Dean have become, what, saints?"

"Not exactly. But surely you've noticed that your reputation precedes you sometimes? You always go by assumed names on your hunts, but somehow monsters have heard of you."

Sam frowned thoughtfully. That was true. "I figured the books…"

"The books helped. Monsters and mortals alike are telling stories about you. Did you know that you killed a Kobold in a small town in Michigan? Once a year he would abduct and murder a child. You two stopped him."

That did sound like them, but they'd never faced a Kobold. Sam wasn't even certain what that was. "We didn't."

"Nope. But that's part of my point. They're now telling stories about you that never actually happened. And eventually, the line between what you've done, and what people say you've done, will blur so much, that you guys will be around, saving people and hunting things, long after you're both finally gone for real."

"Nomadic folk-heroes."

"Exactly. "

It made a weird sort of sense, but this was really a lot to take in. And frankly given what was happening with Dean, he didn't need this extra ponderance.

"Your timing could have been better."

Yeah, Christopher thought. Just be glad I've enough self control not to hit you with the possibility that one day you'll have to kill me. Sometimes Christopher was the reason they say you shouldn't hitchhike, or pick up hitchhikers. Sometimes, he was a monster. And it was probably only a matter of time before he crossed paths with the brothers Winchester, or their avatars while in that aspect. And when that happened, he was in for a messy end. It had to be messy, because the story resulting from the encounter, from the discovery of his body, would keep both their legends alive.

It'd happened before. It would happen again.