Chapter Text
Stranger Than Your Sympathy
Part One - Freshmen Year
Chapter Sixteen: Champagne SuperNova
The privacy ward dissolved with a faint shimmer, like heat rising off asphalt in summer. Dean watched the paste Cas had smeared on the door fade into nothing, taking with it the illusion of safety.
For the last hour, tucked behind that ward, they had been untouchable. The four of them against the world, sharing secrets that could get them killed. But now the real world came rushing back - the sounds of other students in the hallway, someone's music playing too loud three doors down, the ordinary chaos of a Sunday evening in the Gryffindor barracks.
Dean sat on his bunk, the photocopied newspaper article still clutched in his hand. The paper was thin, cheap, the kind that left ink smudges on your fingers. He read the headline again.
HOGWARTS STUDENT EXPELLED AMID CONTROVERSY
His father. Fourteen years old, a freshman, thrown out of school for refusing to follow orders. For protecting someone.
"You alright, cher?" Benny asked quietly.
Dean realized he'd been staring at the article for God knows how long. He folded it carefully, creasing the edges with precision he didn't feel. "Yeah. Fine."
"You're a terrible liar," Ash said from his bunk, already pulling out his bong again. The familiar ritual - something normal to ground them after everything they'd just learned.
"I'm a great liar," Dean shot back automatically. "Ask anyone."
"Not to us," Cas said. He was sitting cross-legged on his own bunk, those too-blue eyes fixed on Dean with uncomfortable intensity. "You don't lie to us well at all."
Dean huffed a laugh that came out more bitter than he intended. "Yeah, well. Guess I'm out of practice."
That wasn't true. He'd been lying to everyone for months - about his house sorting, about the Men of Letters, about the bruises he'd come back from winter break wearing. The ones that were finally starting to fade from purple-black to a sickly yellow-green. The ones that pulled when he moved wrong, a constant reminder of exactly how pissed John Winchester could get when his son screwed up.
Sam had gotten them both in trouble with that hunt. Dean had taken the blame. Taken the punishment. And he'd do it again, because that's what big brothers did.
But now, sitting here with his friends' concerned faces watching him, Dean wondered what his father had been like at fourteen. Before the expulsion, before the bitterness, before the drinking. Had John Winchester once been the kind of kid who chose his friends over power? Who threw away his entire future to protect someone he cared about?
It was hard to reconcile that version of his father with the man who'd spent two weeks barely speaking to Dean except to bark orders. The man who'd looked at his oldest son with something close to disgust and said, You know, Dean, I was going to let you stop attending that school after the first semester. Figured that was punishment enough. But I see now that all of Sam's behavioral issues were because of you.
Dean's ribs ached at the memory. Not from the beating - that had been quick, efficient, the way John did everything. No, they ached from the two weeks of tension that followed, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Dean." Benny's voice cut through the spiral of his thoughts. "You with us?"
He blinked, realized he'd zoned out again. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."
"About what your dad did?" Cas asked.
"About what it means," Dean corrected. He stood up, needing to move, needing to do something other than sit still with all this information churning in his head. "Ash, you're sure about what you heard? That my dad protected another student?"
"As sure as I can be without a sworn affidavit," Ash said. He took a hit from his bong, held it, then exhaled slowly. "Every hunter I talked to who was willing to say anything about it - and that wasn't many - they all said the same thing. The Men of Letters wanted someone eliminated. They told John Winchester to help them do it. And he said no."
"And got expelled for it," Benny added.
"Right." Dean paced the small space between bunks. "So we need to find out who he was protecting. Because if the Men of Letters are 'staging a comeback,' if they want me to 'prove myself' like my grandfather did - "
"They're gonna give you the same test," Cas finished quietly.
Dean stopped pacing, looked at his friend. Cas looked worried, but there was something else in his expression too. Something Dean couldn't quite read. Fear, maybe?
"Yeah," Dean said. "They're going to ask me to hurt someone. Turn someone in. Something. And if I do it, I'm in. I get the whole legacy package - the resources, the connections, the power. Everything my dad threw away."
"And if you don't?" Ash asked, though they all knew the answer.
Dean thought about his father's life. The constant moving, barely scraping by, the Registry watching their every move. The drinking. The violence that sometimes spilled over onto his sons when the hunts went bad or the money ran out or John just needed someone to blame.
"If I don't," Dean said slowly, "I end up like him."
The room fell silent except for the gurgling of Ash's bong.
"But that's the thing," Dean continued, the pieces finally clicking together in his mind. "My dad made that choice when he was fourteen. A freshman. He barely knew these people, barely knew what he was throwing away. And he still chose right."
He looked at each of his friends in turn - Benny, loyal and steady as a rock; Ash, brilliant and irreverent; Cas, strange and intense and somehow exactly what Dean needed.
"I already made my choice," Dean said quietly. "Back when Sinclair gave me that quill. When they wanted me to rig the election, betray Cas. I broke it."
"We know, brother," Benny said gently.
"Yeah, but I didn't know what it meant then. Not really." Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "I thought - I don't know what I thought. That I could have both, maybe. That I could refuse one thing but still get in their good graces somehow. Still clear my dad's name, still get us those resources."
"And now?" Cas asked.
"Now I know there's no middle ground. The Men of Letters don't do compromise. You're in or you're out. You follow orders or you're the enemy." Dean met Cas's eyes. "And I'm pretty sure I already became the enemy when I snapped that quill."
Ash whistled low. "So they're not recruiting you. They're testing you. Seeing if you'll come around."
"Or waiting to see if I'll be a problem like my dad was," Dean agreed.
"Which means they're watching," Benny said, his voice going hard. "Right now. Waiting to see what you do next."
Dean nodded. The weight of it settled on his shoulders - not just his own future, but his father's past, the Men of Letters' plans, whatever was coming in the next few weeks that had the hunters at the Roadhouse so excited.
"Then we need to figure out what they're planning," he said. "And we need to find out who my dad protected. Because I'm betting there's a connection. I'm betting whatever they wanted that person dead for - that's what they're doing now."
"You think they found another target?" Ash asked.
Dean's eyes slid to Cas again, remembering Sinclair's reaction to the Horn of Truth, the way he'd looked at Cas with such interest. "Yeah. I think they did."
But he didn't say it out loud. Not yet. Not when he wasn't sure. Not when naming the fear might make it real.
"So where do we start?" Benny asked.
Dean took a breath. "The Weekly Dragon archives. If there was an expulsion hearing, if there was controversy, the school newspaper had to have covered it. And I need to find out who the other student was - the one my dad protected."
"You got a name?" Ash asked.
"No. But I know someone who might." Dean grimaced. "I need to talk to Gwen Campbell."
All three of his friends stared at him.
"The Gwen Campbell who thinks Winchesters are one step above pond scum?" Benny clarified.
"The one who's been on my protective detail and made it very clear she's doing it under protest?" Dean confirmed. "Yeah. That one."
"This ought to be good," Ash muttered.
"She told me we're cousins," Dean explained. "Through my mom. Which everyone but me knew. And she's researching the female Campbell legacy - hunters who died young or disappeared. If my dad was protecting someone connected to the Campbells, she might know about it."
"It's worth a shot," Cas said. "Though approaching her could be dangerous if the Men of Letters are watching you."
"Everything's dangerous now," Dean said flatly. "But we're running out of time. Ash said they're planning something soon - this month, maybe this week. We can't just sit around waiting for them to make their move."
He moved to his trunk, dug around until he found the files he'd stolen from the library during detention months ago. His father's file, thin and official-looking. He'd read through it a dozen times, looking for answers, but now he knew what questions to ask.
"I'm going to the library," he announced. "Start going through the Weekly Dragon archives systematically. Look for anything from 1978 to 1979."
"I'll come with," Benny offered immediately.
Dean shook his head. "You'll draw attention. If I'm just some freshman doing homework on a Sunday night, no one cares. But if all four of us are camped out in the archives, searching through old newspapers? That's suspicious."
"He's got a point," Ash admitted reluctantly.
"Then I'm coming," Cas said, standing up.
"Cas - "
"No." Cas's voice was firm in a way it rarely was. "You're not doing this alone. And two people researching is more efficient than one."
Dean wanted to argue. Wanted to keep Cas as far away from this mess as possible. But the determined set of his friend's jaw told him it would be pointless.
"Fine," he conceded. "But we're just looking, okay? We're not confronting anyone, we're not making accusations. Just gathering information."
"Agreed," Cas said.
Dean grabbed his backpack, shoved the files inside along with a notebook and pen. His ribs protested the movement-still tender from where John's boot had caught him-but he ignored it. Pain was just weakness leaving the body, his father always said. Or in this case, pain was just a reminder not to fuck up again.
"What do you want us to do?" Ash asked.
"Keep your ears open," Dean said. "If you hear anything - anything at all about the Men of Letters, about plans, about me or my family - find me immediately."
"You got it, boss," Ash said with a mock salute.
Benny stood, crossed the small space, and pulled Dean into a quick, hard hug. Dean stiffened - he still wasn't used to the casual affection his friends showed each other - but Benny didn't let go.
"You be careful, cher," Benny said quietly, his accent thick. "Your daddy made one hell of a choice when he was your age. Don't mean you gotta make the same one if it gets you killed."
Dean pulled back, confused. "I thought you said he did the right thing."
"Oh, he did," Benny agreed. "John Winchester made one good choice as a kid. Then he spent the rest of his life making bad ones." His eyes dropped meaningfully to Dean's ribs, to the bruises he knew were there even if he couldn't see them. "Don't let blind loyalty to him get you hurt worse than you already have been."
The words hit harder than John's fists ever had. Dean opened his mouth to defend his father - because that's what he did, always, no matter what - but nothing came out.
"Come on," Cas said, saving him from having to respond. "We should go before the library gets too crowded."
Dean nodded, grateful for the escape. He followed Cas out of the barracks, down the spiral staircase, through the common room where a few students were studying or playing cards. No one paid them much attention - just two freshmen heading out on a Sunday evening, probably procrastinating on homework.
The hallways of Hogwarts were quieter at night. Not empty-there were always students moving around, heading to the library or the mess or just wandering-but quieter. Their footsteps echoed off the stone floors.
"Benny's worried about you," Cas said after they'd walked in silence for a few minutes.
"I know."
"We all are."
Dean didn't know what to say to that. He shoved his hands in his pockets, kept his eyes forward. "I'm fine."
"You came back from winter break with bruises," Cas said bluntly. "You said they were from a fight, but - "
"They were from a fight," Dean interrupted. Too sharp, too defensive. He forced his voice calmer. "Sam and I went on a hunt. It went bad. I got knocked around. It happens."
Cas was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You know you can tell me the truth, right? About anything."
The irony wasn't lost on Dean. Here was Cas, clearly hiding something himself - lying about the Horn of Truth, going pale whenever Sinclair looked at him - telling Dean he could share his secrets.
"Yeah," Dean said. "I know."
They reached the library. It was more crowded than Dean had hoped - apparently a lot of students had the same idea about procrastinating on Sunday night - but not so packed they couldn't find a corner to work in.
Ms. Dar was at her usual post behind the circulation desk. She looked up when they entered, and for just a second, Dean saw something flicker across her face. Recognition? Concern? It was gone before he could identify it.
"Mr. Winchester," she said pleasantly. "Back for more research?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dean said, putting on his best respectful-student voice. "Working on a project for Mr. Turner's class."
It wasn't technically a lie. Everything at Hogwarts was about learning to be a better hunter, right? And figuring out what happened to his father definitely counted as research.
"The Weekly Dragon archives?" she asked, and Dean's heart skipped a beat.
"How did you - "
"You've been spending a lot of time in that section," she said mildly. "I notice these things. It's my job."
Dean couldn't tell if that was a warning or just an observation. "Yes, ma'am. The archives."
She studied him for a moment, her dark eyes seeing too much. Then she nodded toward the back of the library. "You know where they are. Try not to make a mess this time."
"Yes, ma'am," Dean said again, and he and Cas hurried toward the back before she could ask any more questions.
The Weekly Dragon archives were kept on microfilm in a series of filing cabinets that someone had organized by month instead of year-the single stupidest filing system Dean had ever encountered. He'd been working through them for weeks now, whenever he could steal time, but it was slow going.
He pulled out the drawer labeled "MAY" and started flipping through the film canisters.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Cas asked, pulling out the drawer next to his - "JUNE."
"Anything from the spring of 1979," Dean said. "That's when my dad was expelled. The newspaper article Ash found said it was in the spring, and there was supposed to be a Council investigation."
"So we're looking for articles about the expulsion?"
"Or about whatever led up to it. The Men of Letters wanted someone dead. They had to have a reason, right? Even if it was a bullshit reason. So maybe there was an incident, or accusations, or something that made the papers before the actual expulsion."
They worked in silence for a while, loading microfilm into the readers, scrolling through page after page of student journalism from decades ago. Most of it was exactly what you'd expect - sports scores, club announcements, editorials about cafeteria food. The kind of mundane school life that Dean had never really experienced until Hogwarts.
His eyes were starting to cross from staring at the screen when Cas made a small noise.
"What?" Dean looked up.
"This is strange," Cas said slowly. He was staring at his screen, frowning. "There are issues missing."
Dean rolled his chair over to look. Cas was right - the May 1979 editions jumped from May 15th to June 1st. Two weeks just... gone.
"Could be a coincidence," Dean said, but he didn't believe it. "Maybe those issues got lost or damaged."
"In both April and May?" Cas scrolled back. "Look. April 20th jumps to May 1st. Then May 15th jumps to June 1st. That's almost a month of missing newspapers."
Dean's pulse quickened. "That's not a coincidence. Someone removed them."
"Or they were never archived in the first place," Cas suggested. "If something happened that the school didn't want documented..."
"They'd keep it out of the paper," Dean finished. "Or publish it and then make sure those issues disappeared."
He sat back, frustrated. Of course it couldn't be that easy. Of course whoever had orchestrated his father's expulsion had covered their tracks.
"So what do we do?" Cas asked.
Dean thought about it. Ms. Dar had been at Hogwarts when his father was here - she'd even told Dean he reminded her of an old friend. And she'd been on the newspaper staff. The Ravenclaw correspondent, according to that yearbook he'd found.
But could he trust her? If she'd been here, she had to know what happened. And if she knew and hadn't said anything...
"We keep looking," Dean decided. "There might be references to it in other issues. Or maybe someone wrote a follow-up article later, after things calmed down."
They kept searching. Dean's back started to ache from hunching over the microfilm reader. His eyes burned. But he couldn't stop. Somewhere in these archives was the truth about what happened to his father. About who John had protected. About why the Men of Letters wanted that person dead.
And Dean had a sinking feeling that once he found those answers, everything was going to get a lot worse.
III
Benny waited until he heard Dean and Cas's footsteps fade down the hallway before he turned to Ash.
"We gotta talk about this," he said quietly.
Ash was still on his bunk, bong in hand, but his expression had lost all its usual mellowness. "Yeah. We do."
They'd been dancing around it all break -- on the phone, in carefully worded conversations where neither of them said what they were really thinking. But now, with Dean gone and the privacy ward dissolved, Benny figured it was time to stop pretending.
"John Winchester's a piece of shit," Benny said flatly.
Ash snorted. "Understatement of the century, dude."
Benny started pacing. The barracks felt too small suddenly. "And Dean just -- he makes excuses for him. Every single time. 'It was my fault,' 'I screwed up the hunt,' 'Dad was just stressed.'" He mimicked Dean's voice, then immediately felt guilty for it. "He can't even see it, Ash. He thinks he deserves it."
Ash set down his bong. "'Course he does." He said it like it was obvious, which made it worse somehow -- like this was just a thing Ash knew. "That's how it works with guys like John Winchester. They make their kids think the crap they pull is -- I don't know, discipline. That they brought it on themselves."
"Yeah." Benny's hands clenched into fists. He didn't want to keep thinking about it but he couldn't stop. He'd seen that scar on Dean's shoulder once, when Dean was changing and didn't know he was looking. A perfect circle. He knew what made that shape.
"Ellen doesn't let guys like that stick around the Roadhouse once she figures it out." Ash said, and something in his voice had gone flat in a way that didn't invite follow-up. He flipped through his notes. "Hey -- so you know how I said John's hunting partners have a real bad habit of dying?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't bring that up in front of Dean because it seemed like enough for one night." Ash flipped through his notes. "But, like -- multiple people mentioned it. More than I was expecting. His last three regular partners? All died within six months. And not on hunts with John. Solo stuff. Other partners."
Benny stopped pacing. "Huh."
"I know."
"That's -- I mean, hunting's dangerous, right? Could be nothing."
"Could be," Ash said, but he didn't sound like he believed it. "One of the guys at the Roadhouse -- older dude, knew him way back -- says John Winchester's known for being reckless. Like, take-stupid-risks reckless. And if you can't keep up..." He trailed off and made a vague gesture that managed to say you're on your own without any words at all.
Benny thought about Dean. About how hard he tried to never screw anything up. About how scared he'd been that getting sorted into Gryffindor would be the thing that finally did it.
"The man's toxic," Benny said. "And Dean's drowning in it."
"Yeah." Ash was quiet for a second. "But here's the thing that's messing me up. John Winchester -- when he was our age -- he did the right thing. He stood up to the Men of Letters. Protected someone weaker. Threw away his whole future for it." He shook his head. "So what the hell happened between then and now?"
Benny'd been thinking about that too. It seemed impossible, almost. How do you go from being that kid to --
He didn't finish the thought.
"I think losin' everything broke him," he said finally, working through it out loud. "He gave up his whole future for someone, and then -- whatever happened, it didn't work out. No happy ending. So now he's angry about it and Dean's just..." He didn't have a better way to say it.
"Doesn't excuse it," Ash said, sharp.
"No. It don't." Benny started pacing again. "But -- okay. Here's what I keep coming back to. The Men of Letters are gonna use that, right? Like, they're gonna dangle everything his dad lost right in front of him. All he's gotta do is -- "
"Screw over one of us," Ash finished. "Probably Cas."
They both stopped. Looked at each other.
"You noticed that too?" Ash asked.
"Hard not to. The way Sinclair looked at him over the Horn of Truth thing. The way you said they go after 'unusual' students." Benny dropped his voice even though they were alone. "Cas is hiding something. Something big."
"Yeah." Ash rubbed his face. "And I think Sinclair already knows. Or at least he thinks he does."
"Should we warn him?"
"Warn him about what? I'm pretty sure he knows he's the one they want, Benny. You see how jumpy he's been?" Ash shook his head. "What we gotta make sure is that Dean doesn't have to choose. Because if they back him into a corner -- if it's Cas or his dad's whole legacy -- "
"He'll pick Cas," Benny said. It came out more certain than he expected. "He already did. When he broke that quill."
"Maybe," Ash said. "Or maybe he just put it off. Because he's still trying to clear his dad's name. Still thinking he can fix it somehow." He looked at Benny. "What happens when he figures out he can't have both?"
Benny didn't have an answer for that. He wanted to believe Dean would make the right call -- that he'd pick his friends over whatever messed up legacy John Winchester had handed him. But Dean was tangled up in it. He had been since before any of them even knew him.
"We gotta have faith in him," Benny said finally.
Ash laughed, but it came out wrong. "Ellen’s got faith. Missouri Moseley's got faith. I've just got a real depressing amount of data on how often kids pick the wrong side when it's their family." He said it like a joke. It didn't land like one.
"Dean ain't most kids."
"No," Ash agreed. "He's really not. But he's also not immune to -- to being worked on. And the Men of Letters have been doing this a long time." He put his notes down and looked at Benny properly. "So we do what he asked. Ears open, watch his back. And when they make their move -- because they will -- we're not sitting it out. No matter what he says."
"Even if he tells us to stay out of it?"
"Especially then." Ash's expression was harder than Benny had seen it before. "Because that's exactly what they'll tell him to say. Handle it alone, don't ask for help, prove you're tough enough." His jaw tightened. "We don't let him."
Benny nodded. That, at least, he could agree with. Dean Winchester might have grown up thinking asking for help was weakness -- but he had friends now. A family that actually gave a damn about him.
Benny wasn't letting the Men of Letters take that away. Not a chance.
"There's somethin' else," Benny said after a moment. "Bobby Singer."
"What about him?"
"Ash, you said the Men of Letters see him as a problem. That they need to 'handle it before he poisons the well.' What if they go after Bobby to get to Dean?"
Ash's eyes widened. "Shit. I hadn't thought of that."
"Bobby's the only faculty member Dean really trusts. If somethin' happened to him-"
"Dean would be completely alone." Ash stood up again, started pacing. "We need to warn Bobby. Or at least... I don't know, keep an eye on him? Make sure he knows to watch his back?"
"How do we do that without tipping off the Men of Letters that we know what they're planning?"
"Very carefully?" Ash suggested.
Benny snorted despite himself. "You're a real help, you know that?"
"I try." Ash was quiet for a moment. "Bobby's smart though. He's been around for years, he's seen the Men of Letters operate. If they're making a move, he probably already knows to be careful."
"Probably ain't good enough."
"No," Ash agreed. "But it's what we got right now."
They fell into an uneasy silence. Somewhere in the distance, Benny could hear other students - laughter from the common room, music from someone's radio, the ordinary sounds of a Sunday night at school. It all felt surreal given what they knew. Given what was coming.
"Benny?" Ash said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"What do you think Dean would do if he knew? About his dad, I mean. About the partners who died, about the reputation. Would it change anything?"
Benny thought about it. Dean had spent his whole life making excuses for John Winchester, finding reasons why his father's failures weren't really failures, why his anger was justified, why the violence was just tough love.
But Dean had also spent the last few months away from his father. Making friends, seeing what healthy relationships looked like, learning that not every authority figure solved problems with their fists.
"I think it'd break his heart," Benny said honestly. "But I also think he needs to know. Not now - he's got enough to deal with. But eventually, when this is all over, someone's gotta tell him the truth about John Winchester."
"You volunteering?"
"Hell no," Benny said immediately. "That's a conversation for someone with more tact than me. Maybe Bobby. Maybe even Cas, if Dean'll listen to him."
"Dean'll listen to Cas," Ash said with certainty. "He might not want to, but he will."
There was something in Ash's tone that made Benny look at him more closely. "You think there's something there? Between them?"
Ash shrugged. "I think Dean would walk through fire for Cas. Whether he's figured out why yet is a whole different question."
Benny had noticed it too - the way Dean watched Cas when he thought no one was paying attention, the way he got protective when anyone so much as looked at Cas wrong, the way his whole face changed when Cas laughed at one of his stupid jokes.
"He's fourteen," Benny pointed out.
"So? I knew I liked girls when I was twelve. Some people figure things out early." Ash grinned. "Though watching Dean try to navigate a crush while also dealing with a secret organization trying to recruit him is gonna be entertainment for the ages."
"If we survive that long," Benny muttered.
"Always with the optimism, Benny. That's what I love about you."
Benny threw a pillow at him. Ash ducked, laughing, and for a moment they were just two fourteen-year-old kids goofing around in their dorm room. No Men of Letters, no conspiracies, no secrets that could get people killed.
But the moment passed. It always did.
"We should probably do some actual homework," Ash said, eyeing the textbooks piled on his desk with distaste. "Keep up appearances and all that."
"Yeah." Benny pulled out his Lore textbook, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate. His mind was too full of everything they'd learned, everything they still needed to figure out.
He thought about Dean in the library, searching for answers about his father. He thought about Cas, keeping secrets that could get him killed. He thought about the Men of Letters, watching and waiting and planning something that would force Dean to make an impossible choice.
And he thought about John Winchester-both the fourteen-year-old kid who'd thrown away everything to protect a friend, and the bitter, violent man he'd become.
Benny didn't know how this was all going to end. But he knew one thing for certain: whatever happened, he wasn't going to let Dean face it alone.
Even if Dean's own father had taught him that alone was the only way he deserved to be.
III
Two hours later, Dean's eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head.
He'd found nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd found plenty of things - articles about Quidditch matches (apparently Hogwarts used to have a Quidditch team before it got shut down in the early 80s for being "too dangerous"), editorials about cafeteria food quality, announcements for the spring formal. He'd even found a whole series about proposed changes to the Hunter's Code that had students up in arms.
What he hadn't found was a single mention of John Winchester's expulsion.
"This is impossible," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Cas looked up from his own microfilm reader. They'd split up the work - Dean taking late spring 1979, Cas working backward through early spring. Between them, they should have covered the entire period when his father was expelled.
"Nothing?" Cas asked.
"Not unless you count a scathing review of the spring play." Dean scrolled back through the March editions one more time, just to be sure. "You?"
"I found a reference to 'ongoing Council investigations' in February, but nothing specific. No names, no details." Cas frowned at his screen. "It's almost like they scrubbed the records."
"Or never put them in the records to begin with," Dean said. He thought about those missing issues - the convenient gaps in April and May right when everything must have gone down. "Someone didn't want this documented."
"The Men of Letters?"
"Maybe. Or the school. Or both." Dean leaned back in his chair, frustrated. "My dad was a legacy student. Fourth generation hunter. His expulsion was unprecedented - Ash's article said so. That's big news. The school paper should have been all over it."
"Unless they were told not to be," Cas said quietly.
Dean looked at him. Cas had that expression he got sometimes, the one that made him look older than fourteen. Like he'd seen things, knew things, that aged him beyond his years.
"You think the faculty shut down coverage?" Dean asked.
"I think if the Men of Letters were involved, and they had influence over the administration, they could have made sure certain stories never saw print." Cas gestured at the rows of filing cabinets around them. "The newspaper staff were students. They wouldn't have had the power to resist if faculty told them to kill a story."
It made sense, but it also made Dean want to punch something. Every lead he followed turned into a dead end. Every answer just raised more questions.
"There has to be another way to find out what happened," he said. "The newspaper's a bust. The yearbook doesn't mention it. The official records are sealed or redacted."
"You could ask your father," Cas suggested.
Dean laughed, sharp and humorless. "Yeah, that'll go well. 'Hey Dad, tell me about that time you got expelled for refusing to murder someone for a secret organization.' I'm sure he'd love to have that conversation."
"He might," Cas said. "If you approached it the right way."
"There's no right way to approach John Winchester about his failures." Dean's voice came out harder than he intended. "Trust me."
Cas was quiet for a moment. Then: "Dean, about your father - "
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I know. But - "
"Cas." Dean looked at his friend, saw the concern there, the worry. "Please. Not now."
Cas held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. Not now."
Dean turned back to his microfilm reader, grateful for the reprieve. He didn't want to talk about his father. Didn't want to explain the bruises, the silence, the two weeks of walking on eggshells wondering when John would finally explode.
"What about people who were there?" Cas asked, changing the subject. "Faculty, older hunters who might remember. There has to be someone."
Dean thought about that. Ms. Dar was the obvious choice - she'd been on the newspaper staff, she'd told him he reminded her of an old friend. But approaching her felt risky, especially if she'd been part of covering this up.
"Gwen Campbell," Dean said slowly, repeating himself from earlier.
"What about her?"
"She’s the only one of the Campbells that might talk to me," Dean sat up straighter. "And she's been researching Campbell family history. If something happened in 1979 that involved the Campbells - even tangentially - she might know about it. Or at least know where to look."
"That's a significant assumption," Cas pointed out. "We don't know that the student your father protected was connected to the Campbells."
"No, but we know the Campbells have been at Hogwarts for generations. We know they're one of the most prominent hunting families. And we know Gwen is specifically researching family history." Dean drummed his fingers on the desk. "It's worth asking."
"She doesn't seem to like you very much."
"She doesn't like Winchesters very much," Dean corrected. "But she acknowledged we're family. That's gotta count for something."
Cas looked skeptical but didn't argue. "When will you talk to her?"
"Tomorrow. Between classes or at dinner." Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly nine. "We should pack up. Find out if Benny and Ash learned anything."
They rewound the microfilm, put the canisters back in their respective drawers - making sure to note which ones had the missing issues. Maybe that information would be useful later. Dean shouldered his backpack, careful not to jostle his ribs too much.
Ms. Dar was still at the circulation desk when they walked past. She looked up, caught Dean's eye, and for just a second he saw something there. A question, maybe. Or a warning.
"Find what you were looking for?" she asked.
"Not yet," Dean said honestly. "But I'm getting closer."
Her expression shifted - definitely a warning now. "Be careful, Mr. Winchester. Some stones are better left unturned."
Dean wanted to ask what she meant, wanted to demand she tell him what she knew about his father. But Cas's hand on his arm stopped him.
"Yes, ma'am," Dean said instead. "We'll be careful."
They left the library, walked in silence for a few minutes before Cas spoke.
"She knows something."
"Yeah." Dean's mind was racing. "The question is whether she'll tell us."
The Gryffindor common room was moderately busy when they entered - some students playing cards, others sprawled on couches with textbooks, a study group working on what looked like a Lore project. Dean scanned the room for Gwen but didn't see her.
"Maybe she's already gone to bed," Cas suggested.
"Maybe." Dean spotted Cassie bent over a notebook at one of the tables. "Hey, Cassie."
She looked up, pushed her glasses up her nose. "Winchester. What's up?"
"You seen Gwen Campbell around?"
"Campbell? I think she's still in the library. Why?"
"Just need to ask her something."
Cassie's eyes sharpened with interest. "About what?"
"Family stuff," Dean said vaguely.
"Uh huh." She clearly didn't believe him. "Well, good luck with that. The Campbells aren't exactly known for being warm and fuzzy with outsiders."
"I noticed," Dean muttered.
He and Cas headed for the spiral staircase. They were halfway up when they heard raised voices above them.
" - telling you, something's off about him - "
"Keep your voice down, Mark - "
"Why? Everyone's thinking it. That Novak kid, he's - "
Dean and Cas froze on the stairs. The voices were coming from the landing above them, just out of sight.
"He's what?" A different voice, female. It sounded like Gwen.
"He's weird," Mark Campbell said. Dean recognized the voice now - one of Gwen's cousins, a sophomore. "You've seen how he acts. How he talks. It's not normal."
"Lots of people aren't normal," Gwen shot back. "Doesn't mean anything."
"It means he doesn't belong here. First we get stuck with a Winchester in Gryffindor, now we've got whatever Novak is -"
Dean's hands clenched into fists. He started up the stairs but Cas grabbed his arm.
"Don't," Cas whispered.
"He's talking shit about you - "
"I know. Let it go."
But Dean could see the tension in Cas's shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched tight.
The voices above moved away, footsteps receding down the hallway. When Dean and Cas reached the landing, it was empty.
They walked to their room in silence. Dean's mind was churning - Mark Campbell running his mouth, the Men of Letters looking for "unusual" students, Sinclair's interest in Cas.
It was all connected. It had to be.
Benny and Ash looked up when they entered.
"How'd it go?" Benny asked.
"Nothing useful in the archives. Issues are missing from the key dates." Dean dropped his backpack on his bunk. "We need to talk to Gwen Campbell. She's researching family history. Might know something about what happened back then."
"She gonna help a Winchester?" Ash asked skeptically.
"We're cousins," Dean said again, like that fact would make a difference. "Through my mom. That's gotta count for something."
"Or make it worse," Ash muttered.
Dean ignored him, turned to Cas. "You okay?"
"Fine," Cas said, but he was already climbing up to his bunk, clearly done with the conversation.
Dean wanted to push, to make Cas tell him what was wrong, but he could read the signs. Cas needed space.
"Alright," Dean said, mostly to himself. "Tomorrow we track down Gwen. See what she knows about the Campbells in the late seventies."
"And if she won't talk?" Benny asked.
"Then we find someone who will."
III
Castiel couldn't sleep.
He lay in his bunk, listening to his roommates settle into their usual rhythms. Ash's soft snoring, Benny's occasional shifts and turns, Dean's quiet breathing that was just slightly too controlled to be actual sleep.
Cas stared at the ceiling, his hand pressed against his chest where the pendant hung beneath his shirt. He could feel its steady pulse-not hiding what he was, but helping him maintain control. Keeping the vessel stable.
Keeping Jimmy safe.
You're worried.
The voice was gentle, familiar. Jimmy's presence had always been there, a quiet companion in the back of Cas's mind. But lately, since coming back to Hogwarts after winter break, Jimmy had been stronger. More present.
Yes, Cas thought back. I made a mistake in Sinclair's class.
The Horn of Truth thing. Jimmy's tone was understanding, not accusatory. I heard. That was... not great.
I know.
But it's not the end of the world, Cas. Maybe he didn't notice. Maybe -
He noticed. Cas pressed his hand harder against the pendant, felt its steady rhythm. You felt it too. The way he looked at me.
Jimmy was quiet for a moment. Yeah. I felt it.
For years, Jimmy had been a quiet presence, content to observe, to let Cas use his vessel without complaint. They'd had an understanding - Cas got to experience the human world, and Jimmy got to live at all. It had worked.
But something had changed. Maybe it was Hogwarts itself, all the protective wards and ancient magic making it harder for Cas to maintain complete control. Maybe it was being around so many hunters, so many people trained to detect the supernatural. Or maybe Jimmy was just getting stronger as the body aged.
I can feel you slipping sometimes, Jimmy said softly. When you get tired or stressed. It's getting harder for you to hold on.
I know. Cas had been trying not to think about it, but Jimmy was right. The pendant helped, but it wasn't perfect. I'm sorry. I'm trying -
Hey, don't apologize. Jimmy's presence felt warm, reassuring. We're in this together, remember? You saved my life. This body would've died when I was a baby if you hadn't -
I took you over, Cas interrupted. I took your body, your life -
You gave me a life, Jimmy corrected firmly. And yeah, it's weird. It's not what either of us expected. But I'm here, I'm aware, I get to experience things. That's more than I would've had.
Cas felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. This was why he and Jimmy worked - because Jimmy understood. Because even when things got complicated, even when Cas made mistakes, Jimmy didn't blame him.
I'm scared, Cas admitted. About tomorrow. About what Sinclair wants.
Me too, Jimmy said honestly. But you're not alone. You've got Dean and Benny and Ash. They'll help.
They don't know what I am.
No. But they know you're their friend. That counts for something.
Below him, Dean shifted again. Cas heard the slight hiss of pain-those ribs still bothering him.
He's hurt, Jimmy observed quietly. Has been since he got back from break.
I know.
It wasn't a hunt, was it?
Cas had been trying not to think about it, but Jimmy was perceptive. No. I don't think so.
Someone hurt him on purpose. Someone who knew where to hit. Jimmy's presence felt troubled. His father?
Probably. Cas wanted to climb down, to insist Dean tell him the truth. But Dean had made it clear he didn't want to talk about it.
You care about him, Jimmy said. It wasn't a question.
He's my friend.
He's more than that. Jimmy's tone was gentle. Cas, I can feel what you feel. You care about all of them, but Dean especially. You -
Don't, Cas thought, more sharply than he intended. Please.
Okay. Jimmy backed off immediately. Sorry. I just - I want you to be happy. That's all.
I know. Cas took a breath, tried to calm down. I'm sorry. I'm just - everything feels complicated right now.
Yeah. It does.
A sound from the hallway made Cas tense.
Footsteps. Moving slowly, deliberately. They paused outside the door.
Someone's there, Jimmy whispered unnecessarily.
Cas held his breath.
A soft knock. Three taps, pause, two more taps.
That wasn't a normal knock. That was deliberate. Intentional.
Below him, Dean's breathing changed - he was awake, listening too.
Another knock. Same pattern.
Dean climbed out of his bunk quietly, moved to the door. Cas wanted to tell him to wait, to be careful, but Dean was already there.
A piece of paper slid under the door.
Dean grabbed it, pulled it inside. Cas climbed down from his bunk as quietly as he could, joined Dean by the small lamp on the desk.
The paper was thick, expensive. Official. And written on it in precise script:
Mr. Novak,
Your presence is requested in Professor Sinclair's office tomorrow at 2:00 PM. This is not optional.
Come alone.
- E.S.
Oh no, Jimmy breathed.
Cas felt his blood turn to ice.
"What the hell?" Dean whispered, reading over his shoulder.
Cas's hands trembled. He pressed them flat against his thighs. "It's probably nothing. Just - "
"Don't." Dean's voice was sharp. "That's not nothing, Cas. Why would Sinclair summon you alone?"
He knows, Jimmy said, frightened. Or he suspects. Cas, what do we do?
I don't know, Cas thought back, trying to keep his panic contained.
"I don't know," Cas said out loud, answering Dean's question.
"Is this about the Horn of Truth thing? From class?"
Cas's mind raced. He couldn't tell Dean the truth - that he was an angel possessing a human body, that Sinclair had recognized something in his knowledge that marked him as non-human, that the Men of Letters might be coming for him the same way they'd come for whoever John Winchester had protected.
But he couldn't lie either. Not to Dean.
"Maybe," Cas said carefully. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was - careless."
"How did you know about it anyway?" Dean asked. "That's not exactly common knowledge."
Tell him something, Jimmy urged. Not the truth, but something. He's trying to help.
Cas touched the pendant through his shirt, felt its pulse stutter slightly.
"I read about it somewhere," Cas said, the lie tasting bitter. "I don't remember where."
Dean studied him for a long moment. Cas could see him trying to decide whether to push, whether to call out the obvious evasion.
"Okay," Dean said finally. "But you're not going to that meeting alone."
"Dean, the note said - "
"I don't care what the note said. You think I'm letting you walk into Sinclair's office by yourself when something's clearly going on?" Dean's jaw set in that stubborn way that meant arguing would be pointless. "I'll wait outside. In the hallway or somewhere I can get to you quick if things go wrong."
He really cares about you, Jimmy observed softly.
"That's not necessary - " Cas started.
"Yeah, it is." Dean's voice softened slightly. "Cas, I don't know what's going on. And I get that you can't tell me, or won't tell me, or whatever. But you're my friend. And friends don't let friends walk into obvious traps alone."
Cas wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that Dean being anywhere near this made everything more dangerous, that the Men of Letters would use Dean against him.
But looking at Dean's determined expression, at the worry barely hidden behind the bravado, Cas couldn't make himself say it.
"Alright," he said quietly. "But you have to promise to stay hidden. If Sinclair sees you-"
"He won't," Dean promised. "I'm good at not being seen when I don't want to be."
You should tell him, Jimmy said gently. Not everything. But something. He deserves to know why this is dangerous.
I can't, Cas thought back. If I tell him, he'll try to protect me. He'll do something stupid and heroic and-
He's going to do that anyway, Jimmy pointed out. At least if he knows, he'll be prepared.
A creak from across the room made them both turn.
Benny sat up in his bunk, squinting at them in the dim light. "Y'all having a secret meeting without me?"
"Cas got summoned to Sinclair's office," Dean said. "Tomorrow at two."
"The hell?" Benny was fully awake now. "Why?"
"Don't know," Dean said before Cas could answer. "But we're gonna make sure nothing happens to him."
"Damn right we are," Benny agreed.
Another voice from above-Ash, sounding groggy. "Are we plotting? Because if we're plotting, I want in."
"Go back to sleep, Ash," Cas said, but there was no heat in it.
"Nope. Wide awake now." Ash's head appeared over the edge of his bunk, hair sticking up at odd angles. "So Sinclair's making a move?"
"Looks like it," Dean said grimly.
"Then we need a plan," Benny said, climbing out of his bunk.
"It's almost ten o'clock," Cas protested. "We should sleep-"
"Sleep can wait," Dean interrupted. "This is more important."
They really care about you, Jimmy said, and Cas could feel the warmth in his presence. All of them. You've found something good here, Cas.
I know, Cas thought. That's what scares me.
Because you don't want to lose it.
Because I don't want them to get hurt.
"Alright," Dean was saying, already in planning mode. "Cas goes to the meeting at two. That's during lunch, right?"
"Just after," Cas confirmed. "I have a free period."
"Perfect. So you go, but Benny and I will be in the hallway. Out of sight but close enough to hear if anything goes wrong."
"What about me?" Ash asked.
"You keep an eye on the common room, see if anyone's watching Cas extra close tomorrow. Especially Campbells." Dean started pacing, thinking out loud. "We need to know if this is just Sinclair being creepy or if it's part of something bigger."
"It's bigger," Ash said grimly. "Has to be. The Men of Letters are making their move-I told you that. This is it."
Cas felt the pendant pulse faster against his chest, responding to his anxiety.
Easy, Jimmy soothed. I've got you. We're okay.
For now, Cas thought.
For now is enough.
"Then we make sure they don't succeed," Dean said with certainty.
They talked for a while longer, refining their plan for tomorrow-where Benny and Dean would hide, what signal Cas should give if he needed help, what to do if faculty caught them lurking in the hallways.
Eventually, exhaustion won out over anxiety. Benny and Ash climbed back into their bunks. Dean did the same.
Cas lay in his own bunk, staring at the ceiling, one hand still pressed against the pendant.
I wish I could help more, Jimmy said quietly. Tomorrow, I mean. If Sinclair asks questions, if he tries to test you-I might be able to help you seem more normal. I know how humans are supposed to act.
You've been dead since you were six months old, Cas pointed out, but gently. You don't know that much more than I do.
Maybe not. But I've been watching through your eyes for fourteen years. I've learned things. Jimmy paused. If you need me tomorrow-if you need to let me through for a bit-I can try to cover for us.
That's too dangerous. If you come through and I can't get control back-
You will. I trust you, Cas. And I'll help however I can.
Cas felt something warm settle in his chest. Thank you.
We're in this together, Jimmy reminded him. Always have been.
Below him, Dean's breathing had finally evened out into actual sleep. Cas listened to it, let it ground him. Three other heartbeats in this room, three humans who cared about him for reasons he still didn't fully understand.
And Jimmy, always there, always patient, always trying to help even when Cas made everything complicated.
You think we'll be okay? Cas thought.
I think we've got good people on our side, Jimmy answered. And that counts for a lot.
But the Men of Letters-
Are dangerous. I know. But so are we, when we need to be. Jimmy's presence felt solid, reassuring. Get some sleep, Cas. Tomorrow's going to be hard enough without facing it exhausted.
You'll be there? Tomorrow?
Always, Jimmy promised. I'm not going anywhere.
Sleep didn't come easy. But eventually, with the pendant's steady pulse against his heart and Dean's breathing soft below him, and Jimmy's quiet presence keeping watch, Cas drifted off.
He dreamed of Sinclair's office, of questions he couldn't answer and tests he couldn't pass. But in the dream, when things got dangerous, Jimmy was there-not fighting him for control, but standing beside him, facing it together.
And Dean was in the hallway, just like he'd promised.
Waiting.
Ready to help, even though he didn't understand what he was protecting Cas from.
Even though it might cost him everything.