A/N: So here is a new story. I'm taking a quick break from my other fic Postmortem for now as I'm having a bit of a block with that one. I will come back to it though. Anyway, this idea came to me and I don't think it's been done and well, I HAD to get this out. Enjoy and please review? Lol
Summary: Harrison Winchester has just turned twenty three. Everyone he has ever loved has died, a war his family had fought years before his birth is on the rise once again and just when he thinks he has his latest hunt in the bag, Harrison is sent back in time. Back to 2006 and to a father who never knew him and an uncle he never met.
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish the boys of Supernatural were mine. The Gutter Girl in me says "Soon my precious' soon. They will be ours" lol but alas, they are not mine…yet ;)
The Winchester Effect
Chapter 1: In the Bag
February 2nd, 2040
The leather jacket cracked with the buildup of cold. Knee deep in snow, the young man sat, waiting. Hunched over a small, leather bound book. The pages within it were wrinkled and brittle, dissolving into dust with even the lightest touch. Lettering barely legible and articles long outdated, he kept it by his side just the same. It was all he had left. The last remaining thing to connect him with a man he'd barely known. Nineteen years and he had never truly understood his father and now at twenty three, alone in the world, he wished he had. Had been given that chance to have a dad or some form of normalcy. Instead, fate had dealt him the hand of orphan. Of a motherless boy at barely a year old and the son of a man who didn't stay around long enough to care. He had been given the battered journal his grandfather had kept decades past. Now his own journal. The only thing he had left in the world.
The midnight sun lit a path along the crisp, glittering white fluff. Bruised cotton swallowed any chance of the stars coming out, to shine their radiance onto the town below. Before him, standing ominous at the edge of this darkness lay a dilapidated building. Once used for manufacturing soap, it had been abandoned for well over seven years. Its soul purpose now was in the sheltering of a homeless demon. The raven eyed creature he had the intention of killing.
Strewn in front, lay the silver flask. Just before a hunt he'd prefer a quick drink of Whiskey, something he'd picked up from the family genes he supposed, but now it held nothing but holy water. Engraved along the body were the initials SW. Like most other things in his procession, it had belonged to his father.
Harrison pocketed the flask into his jacket. The journal followed suite. Both objects firmly in place within the holds of his coat, he removed the six inch knife from the duffel bag. The blade was pickled from where it started at the hilt to it's very point with lambs blood. It would be his only defense once he entered the abandoned warehouse.
Long since past were the days where all it took was but a simple splash of holy water and an exorcism to vanquish a demon. Those had been ages ago. Back when his father had been his own age. Now, things were not so easy. Since the war and his uncle's demise, nothing had been simple. His father had thought all their problems had ended. He'd started a life, made himself a stable home and then, like clockwork, it had all returned. Evil more potent, demons more crafty, the world his father grew up in and the one he lived in now, were too very different times.
Harrison surveyed the quiet, snow covered field. He tensed as a cool breeze lifted the frostbitten limbs of a nearby pine. Thumps of ice dropping through the snow reverberated through the night. Behind him sat the winding, back road. Deserted save for his rusty old Chevy that hung together with duct tape.
Anxiety clenched impatient fists along his chest while the young hunter walked stealthily up the torn path. Frozen gravel crunched underfoot. The sound made his grip around the blade tighten.
Brick siding came into view. Slow, patient steps and he was standing under the looming shadow of building. Ancient charms, -connected with a silver chain about his wrist- clinked together as he opened the door. With little hesitation he ventured deep inside the structure. Thick was the air inside scented with the chocking smell of mold and stale perfume. The main room was vacant. The wooden floors creaked, splintering under his weight. Dampness consumed him. The walls were marred with crater sized holes from when termites had once been a problem. A pitter patter of clawed feet sounded, letting the invader be warned, that rats also chose to room here.
Harrison ventured forward. Around boxes containing outdated office supplies and shattered fluorescent light fixtures that had once been attached to the ceilings. He took a turn into the first room. A wide open space lined with dust layered conveyer belts. Most of the equipment had been stripped from the building he noted. The room held nothing of interested upon second glance and so he left it be; returning to the stretch of hall.
Two more rooms had been inspected and both turned up little results. The mangled body of a rat scampered across his booted foot. Back legs tripping over the steeled toe, it somersaulted back into the shadows, squealing a trail of obscenities into the nearest room. The hunter smiled grimly, knowing he'd be soaking his footwear in boiled water and the most powerful antibacterial he could find, just to get the residue of vermin off the leather.
The thought came and left in an instant. He had to focus on the task before him. One miscalculation and that would be it. However, with everything else he'd inherited from his father; the journal, the flask, the good looks, it should not have been surprising that he would also inherit the classic Winchester bad luck. He was already well accustom to this but as the meaty fist sprung from the depths of the darkness and met his jaw head on with folded knuckles, he realized he should have been more prepared.
Harrison Winchester stumbled, reeling from the blow that shattered the silence with the sharp cracking sound of bones. His vertigo took off, misleading him and sending him stepping forwards and backwards in hopes of catching his balance.
Laughter fingered the air above his head. Something shifted by his left and as he made to cut the demon through he was clocked in the head. The sheer force sent the hunter to his knees. He hit the floor, breaking through and forming superficial scars along the wood. A groan escaped chapped lips before he could hold it in.
"Big mistake coming here, little boy."
The hunter ignored the taunt. He felt the presence of a warm body somewhere next to his right. Hunched over the floor, he slipped a hand into his coat and removed the holy water. Although he felt skilled in the art of stealth it had obviously been no match for the keen eyesight of the demon.
A shuffle sounded beside him. A fast shuffle. Harrison removed the lid off the flask and with one quick jerk, sprayed an uncalculated amount of water into the shadows. Smoke blinded him as the pained screams of the man he possessed radiated along the hall walls. He blinked away tears but with each attempt more seemed to rise. The grey wisps emanating from the demons chest billowed up and into his face.
Harrison rubbed away the offending liquid with the back of his hand. Defenses down and the demon recovering, he had little time to react to the head thrusting deep into his stomach. His lungs deflated with one heavy gasp. The hunter hit back first into the wall. Parts of the building crumbled under the attack. Plaster ran in pieces down his chest and atop his head. The pain that crawled the length of his shoulder blades and along his spine was nothing compared to the loud buzzing noise that seemed all consuming.
A flash of black appeared before him. Unable to move for some reason, Harrison watched as the demon stood before him, inches from his face. Dressed in the fresh skin of a man nearing his fifties, he wore a salt and peppered beard, with a head of hair to match. A toothy grin, soiled with malice reflected in the hunter's stony eyes.
The demon's attention flicked towards the knife, still held dangerously in Harrison right hand. Although pinned to a wall, it wouldn't be of much use to him anymore.
"Thought we'd have a little fun, did we?"
Rough fingers pried apart his own with a bit of difficulty. The nails cut and clawed into the hunter's tanned flashed until the blade was released and fell to the floor. The metal clattered off the wood. The young Winchester tensed beneath the sadistic glare of the demon.
"Now, hows about we have some more fun? Shall we?"
If given the chance to answer, he'd have said no and hightailed it back to Kansas where he belonged. Of course, things never worked out quite that way.
A meaty hand encircled his neck. Eyes that had once been a deep black now glowed unnatural white light upon the demon's face. The whites of his eyes vanished, consumed by the supernatural power surging through the stolen body.
The hunter struggled against the force keeping him stilled against the wall. More plaster broke and that was it. Harrison pinched his face, holding back the urge to panic. The hand about his neck tightened, squeezing the life from his body with each increase of pressure. The fingers dug into his flesh and the buildup of power running through the demon found its path into his own self.
Sparking agony along the walls of his throat, Harrison opened his mouth to scream and fell short. White heat erupted within the cavity of his chest. The pain lanced a trail slowly throughout his system. Churning his stomach and numbing his limbs. His eyes swelled from the tears he could not stop.
Oxygen would not reach his parched lungs. His legs, although tired, kicked out in desperation for the small commodity. He could hear the harsh thumping of his heart as it picked up speed and thrashed beneath layers sweat and cotton shirts. Harsh laughter filtered through the pain. The fingers dug deeper and the demon leaned in close. Breath hot and rank along his face. The hunter wheezed, an attempt to take in air. A failed attempt.
"Now for my final act."
The eyes flickered towards the right. With his only remaining hand, the demon brought it overhead the hunter. Harrison's eyes followed the movement, not anticipating the blade he'd dropped to move on it's own accord. However, as he waited for the demon to bring his meaty fist down upon him he found he had failed to remember one of the golden rules of hunting. To always be alert of what was going on around you.
One minute he was watching a fist and the next he was tasting the cold steel of his own blade. Six inches of pain wedged deep inside his stomach. Deep enough so that within a short amount of time the blow would prove fatal.
Harrison gasped and wished he could fold in on himself. Fold in on the pain that seemed to engulf his entire self. His knees buckles as his chin slipped to rest on his chest. The blood was leaving him, slithering down the length of his jeans in waves of dark sanguine.
A finger raised his head to face his enemy. The eyes still glowed but the fear they'd once instilled in the hunter no longer remained. He knew this was it. The knife was too far. The wound too deadly. What more could this creature do, to scare him?
"Do not fret son, this trick of mine has just begun."
The voice faded suddenly, dissipating into a orange haze that seemed to have come out of nowhere. The hunter felt the pressure around his neck leave and the force keeping him upright with it. As darkness fell across his sights and the world turned on its axis, Harrison finally crumpled in a bloody heap; falling through the orange haze and into the cold, welcoming arms of death.
June 18th, 2006
Consciousness trickled in with the winding of a cool breeze. The young hunter struggled to seat himself upright. Darkness still remained intact. His fast approaching demise seemed to have taken some sort of pause, he noted. His hands searched the folds of his jacket and along the damp cotton shirts he wore, coming away without any blood. No cuts. No pain. It was as though the last fifteen minutes had never happened.
Harrison ran a hand through his thick, brown bangs. His eyes roamed the sky and somehow he didn't remember ever stepping out of the soap factory. They spied the stars that shattered the dark tapestry above and the all consuming light of the half moon. Finally they rested upon the neon glow of the ever looming sign. Husky Taverns shone bright red throughout the night. The hunter eyed it skeptically.
A chorus of laughter sounded from his left. As the young Winchester turned his full attention on the intoxicated couple stumbling out of the bar, he realized that he was not in Idaho anymore. There was no soap factory anywhere in the near vicinity; that he could tell already.
Before him, bathed in the dim light of the neon sign was some seedy roadside bar that must have seen better days. Around him, a parking lot. He took in the cars, his heart thumping madly against his chest. The cars were ancient. Models way before 2020.
Slowly the hunter rose to his feet. A sickness was taking up space inside his stomach. His mind was telling him that this couldn't be and yet, the hunter in him said anything was possible. Somehow, in some way or another he'd been sent packing into the past. Way before he'd ever been born. To some time he wasn't the least familiar with. This fact was certain because there were the cars and unless there was some type of car convention in town…well, he was sure there wasn't.
Harrison struggled to pull himself together. He was helpless however, without any means of survival in a place he was not familiar with. It shouldn't have surprised him that the demons powers would go way beyond what he'd expected. Since the war back in 2009 the new line of demons clawing their way out of hell were prepared. They were a better breed, with more knowledge that he hadn't prepared for. Deciding that his best option at the moment was making his way into the bar and hustling some poor sap out of some money so that he may have a place to sleep for the night, Harrison ventured onward. He had made but a few steps when something from just off to the left caught his attention. Turning fully, the hunter froze, fixated on what stood before him.
The sleek black hump, glowed unscratched and showing no signs of rust. Polished rims. It still bore the same Kansas plates he'd come to know and love. He'd hated the vehicle at one time but now, before him in all its Chevy glory was the same car he drove. Although age had yet to lay her vicious claws upon its nice finish. The back windows had no bullet holes and her bumper was not being held on with mounds of duct tap. Harrison ran unsteady fingers along the trunk. This same car had been left to him with his father's death. It had been a lemon when he'd inherited it but for some reason it seemed to have sentimental value to his old man. Looking at it now, as it must have looked long ago, he understood why his father had cared for it so much. It really was a sight for sore eyes.
So, awkward place to leave it but I'm a leave it there anyway. Just wanted to give everyone a taste of what was happening. Will be posting the next chapter tomorrow hopefully and Dean and Sam will make their dramatic appearance. lol And yeah, Harrison a smart cookie and figured out in a snap that he's done the time warp again. :P Want to see what Harrison looks like type in Corey Sevier into IMDB. I will have a link up for a pic in the next post!