I want to apologize for the length of time between the updates! Grad school is killing me. Hopefully the next update will be much faster. Fall break is coming up, so I'm hoping to get some writing done then. Also, sorry about the length. Felt right to end it there, and my writing is feeling a little rusty.

So far as canon events go, this does, loosely, take place during 5.01, but the timeline and events within 5.01 have been altered slightly.

Anyway, enjoy!

Of Fathers and Sons

By Koinaka

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
-Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1, lines 44-45


"You're right. You are dreaming. I'm not your mom, Kurt," she said. "I'm an angel."

"Angels don't exist," he said straight away.

His mom's expression softened. "I understand why you would think so, but we do exist. My name is Lucifer, and I am an angel."

When Kurt didn't respond, she continued. "I'm here because you're special, Kurt. There are very, very, few people like you."

"Why?" Kurt asked before he could stop himself.

"You're a vessel. A very powerful vessel."


"I don't understand. What does that mean?"

The thing—angel, if it was telling the truth—wearing his mother's face moved closer to Kurt and traced the lines of his cheekbone with one of her fingers. Kurt's eyes fluttered close at her touch. "I need to take control of your mind and body, Kurt,"

Kurt's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards away from his false mother. "Why?" he breathed.

"Don't be afraid. I would never hurt you," she promised. "Or lie to you. I need your body so that I can hold my father accountable for his actions. He betrayed me, just as your father betrayed you. Your mother didn't die of cancer, but you've already knew that, didn't you? Don't you want to know what else he's lied to you about? What else he's been keeping from you? I can tell you. I want to tell you. You deserve to know the truth."

Kurt said nothing for a long moment. "You know?" he asked, his voice trembling. "How she really died?" he clarified.

"I do."

"And," he paused once more, taking in a shuddering breath, "about the other things? My missing memories and the dreams?"

"Not missing," she corrected. She tapped a long finger against the side of Kurt's head. "Locked away—and yes, I do. It won't be pleasant, but if you want, I can give them back to you. I will give you everything you want—everything."

"Oh," Kurt exhaled heavily and asked the question that he was most afraid of asking. "Do you know…is my dad alive?"

"He is alive but gravely injured. I'm sorry," she said, and she did look it.

Kurt shook his head, blinking furiously at the tears welling up in his eyes. "You said that you could give me everything—I don't want everything. I just want him. He's—he's all I have."

"You have such loyalty to your father even though has done nothing but lie to you and betray you over and over again. You and I have more in common than you could ever know," the angel murmured, almost beneath her breath. She seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Without a body, I cannot give you back your father, but he is not your only remaining family. Your mother had a sister, and though she died, her two sons live on—Sam and Dean Winchester."

"And with a body? Could you do it with a body? With my body? Could you save my father if you had my body?"

The angel leveled him with a steadfast look. "Yes, easily, but you have to say yes, Kurt. You have to invite me in."

"And what happens to me?" Kurt asked. "When you take over my body?" he clarified at the angel's confused look.

"You'll simply go to sleep," the angel told him, giving him a warm smile. "And, perhaps, if you wanted, I could construct some sort of artificial reality for you."

"Would I know that it wasn't real?"

The angel shook her head. "You need never know," she said gently. "Not if you'd rather not."

"I…" Kurt trailed off as an odd sensation pulsed through him. It was almost as if someone was calling him.

The angel tilted her head to the side and sighed. "Always interfering," she said before disappearing, leaving Kurt alone in his dreams.

Only moment after the angel's disappearance, the odd sensation once again pulsed through him, but this time it pulled him closer and closer to consciousness until he was awake, his eyes fluttering open and close. His body felt heavy, as if he had been asleep for ages instead of just hours. It took a moment for his vision to focus, and when it finally did, he noticed that Bobby Singer was standing over him, an inexplicable look on his face.

"Been trying to wake you up for over an hour, boy," he said, his voice gruff and his expression more than a little wary. "You've been asleep for nearly fifteen hours."

"Huh," Kurt said.

Fifteen hours and yet he still felt sleepy. More than that, he felt like there was something he ought to be doing right now, as if Bobby waking him up had interrupted something very important.

He didn't have too long to wonder what had been interrupted because soon there was a knock at the door.

"Must be the pizza I ordered," Bobby said answering Kurt's unasked question.

"I think I'll just go take a shower before eating." He grabbed a set of clean clothes and his toiletry bag before locking himself into the bathroom.

When he turned off the shower nearly half an hour later, Kurt could hear low voices in the next room, but he was quick to dismiss the idea that there were visitors. It was much likelier that Bobby was on the phone. After all, he often made phone calls when he thought Kurt wasn't around.

He dressed quickly and opened the door to find that Bobby was not alone. Instead, he was standing with two other men, one ridiculously tall and the other ridiculously good looking, both of which were pointing guns at him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, surprised, as he shuffled backward towards the bathroom.

Bobbly let out an exasperated noise. "Put the guns away, you idjits. This is the boy I was telling you about, Kurt. Kurt, these two numbskulls over here are your—"

"Cousins," Kurt said before he could stop himself. At Bobby's surprised look, he continued. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but how'd you know?"

Kurt shrugged. "Just knew, I suppose." It was true enough. He wasn't sure how he knew only that he did.

The three men exchanged pointed looks but said nothing.

"I'm Sam," the taller one said extending his hand so Kurt could shake it. Hesitating only slightly, Kurt did so. There was something strange about Sam, something familiar about him that Kurt couldn't put his finger on.

"Dean," the other one supplied briskly, but he didn't offer his hand. He was studying Kurt intently, an odd look on his face. "He looks a lot like Mom," he admitted, finally, reluctance heavy in his voice. "Their eyes are the same."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Did you know my mom then?" he asked curiously.

Dean paused before shaking his head. "I remember your dad though. He used to hunt with our dad."

"Really?" Sam asked, a surprised look on his face. "You never told me that."

"Yeah, well, Sammy, there's a lot you never told me either." Dean sighed. "Now, if we're done with this little family reunion, we need to hit the road."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Wait—what? Where are we going? Not to Maryland, right?"

He felt his breath begin to quicken when his questions went unanswered. "We can't go to Maryland," he continued, a hysteric edge to his voice.

All three men were eyeing him curiously now.

"Why not?" Sam asked.

Kurt shook his head quickly as flashes of blood and yellow-eyes flashed through his mind. "We just can't—I can't."

Sam approached him slowly, his hands held out in front of him as if in surrender. "We're not going to Maryland," he said in a soft reassuring voice.

Kurt drew in a deep breath. "Good," he said. "Good," he repeated once more.

"Enough talking, Sammy. We're hidden from the angels for now thanks to Cas and his little carvings, but we need to get the hell outta dodge before the demons catch up to us. Come on, kid, grab your bags, and let's go."

"Demons? Angels? You're crazy, they're not real," Kurt said at once. Flashes of a yellow-eyed man smiling at him, talking to him, filled his head. Demon, his mind supplied, but he ignored the thought. Demons weren't real—couldn't be real.

Could they? He remembered the odd things that Bobby had said back at his home.

Ain't nothing the police can do for your daddy now.

His eyes flitted from Sam to Dean before finally landing on Bobby. "It was demons that attacked my father, wasn't it?" he asked in a subdued voice.

"Yeah," Bobby said after exchanging another look with Dean and Sam. "Yeah, it was."

Something else Bobby said came back to him then.

The police can't do nothing to what's got your daddy. There aren't many who can.

Kurt turned to Sam. "You're going to help me find my dad, right? Bobby said the police wouldn't be any help, but you would, wouldn't you?"

It was Dean who answered though. "Look, kid, we're gonna help you, but every minute we waste here talkin' is another minute your dad spends with whatever demon took him, and trust me, you don't want that. If he's even still alive."


Dean leveled a reproachful look at Sam that he returned twofold. "I'm just tellin' the truth, Sammy. I'm not sayin' he's dead," he told Kurt, but he didn't seem the least bit apologetic. "But demons aren't exactly known for their hospitality, if you get what I'm saying. Chances are if he's not dead already, he will be soon, so the sooner we leave, the better."

Kurt nodded, but before he could say or do anything else, the door to the motel room flew open and a dark-haired woman followed by several men entered the room.

"Hello boys," she said in a pleasant voice.