In Bobby Singer's salvage yard, a portal tore open between the rusted cars and piles of scrap metal. Henry was thrown out onto the gravel and hit the ground hard. The portal disappeared behind him.
He stayed down for a few seconds before slowly sitting up. Sunlight hit his face and he raised an arm to shield his eyes. After a month in that dark, stagnant place, it felt almost painfully bright.
He lowered his arm and took a deep breath. Clean air. He could feel his grace again.
"Yep. My grace is back."
White light flashed briefly through his eyes and moved across his body. Dried demon blood, ash, torn clothes — gone. Clean and healed.
He looked toward Bobby's house. "Now I need a cold beer."
He walked up the porch and knocked. A few seconds later, several locks clicked open and the door swung inward.
Bobby stood there with a shotgun.
He froze when he saw Henry.
"I'm back, Bobby."
Before Bobby could respond, Henry stepped forward and gave him a quick hug.
Bobby stiffened. "What in the hell—"
Henry let go and walked straight past him into the house. "Where are the beers?"
Bobby stayed at the door for a moment, still staring. In the kitchen, Henry opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle, popped the cap against the counter, and drank the whole thing.
"That hits the spot."
Bobby walked in carrying an iron poker in one hand and a silver flask in the other. "Don't move."
"Bobby."
"You disappear for over a month, then show up out of nowhere looking perfectly fine. I'm checking."
He splashed holy water directly into Henry's face.
Henry closed his eyes as it ran down his shirt. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Isn't this getting old?"
"You're lucky I didn't shoot you with rock salt first and ask questions later, ya idjit." Bobby kept the poker in hand. "Now tell me where the hell you've been for the last month."
Henry frowned. "What month? I thought I was only gone a few days. A month passed on Earth?"
"Earth?" Bobby repeated, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah. I was trapped in a different world. You can call it Hell, but it wasn't the real Hell. I don't even know what to call it. Full of gross things, every single one of them wanting a piece of me."
"And you survived?"
"I fought."
"That's all you're gonna give me?"
"I fought, kept moving, eventually found a way back."
Bobby stared at him. "You spent a month fighting monsters in some unknown dimension, and your explanation is 'I fought'?"
"I didn't know it was a month."
Bobby's expression shifted. He lowered the poker and leaned against the counter. "So you really thought only a few days had passed?"
"Yeah." Henry picked up his beer. "There wasn't a clock hanging around. Dark all the time, monsters everywhere, most of them trying to kill me. Keeping track of days wasn't exactly high on the list."
Bobby rubbed his beard. "Whatever that place was, you were there long enough for everyone around here to think you were dead."
Henry paused. "Dean and Sam?"
"They're fine. Spent most of the time looking for you after they got back."
Henry let out a breath of relief. "Good."
Bobby pointed the poker at him again. "Don't get comfortable yet. You still haven't told me how you got out."
"I found a way."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the answer I've got."
Bobby grunted. "You're gonna give me a better one eventually. I've got a whole damn month of questions."
"What happened to the book? The one that caused all this?"
"Dean burned it. Heard he did it in a fit of anger."
Henry nodded and took another drink. "Good. That thing was too dangerous to keep around."
"No argument there. Trouble from the second you boys got your hands on it. Better off as a pile of ash."
Henry finished his beer and set the empty bottle down. "I'm gonna get some rest. Don't disturb me for the rest of the day."
"Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable. I've still got questions."
Henry started toward the hallway.
"And shut the damn door when you go in."
"Got it."
He disappeared down the hall. Bobby stood there a moment, staring after him.
"Idjit," he muttered, and turned back to his work.
***
In Heaven, Zachariah stood inside one of the plain white offices, staring through the window with an irritated expression.
"So that disgusting Nephilim is back, huh?"
Everything at the museum had been arranged by Heaven.
They'd placed the Book of the Dead there and manipulated the deaths surrounding it, knowing the Winchesters would eventually hear about the case and come looking.
They had.
For the most part, everything had gone exactly according to plan.
Dean and Sam had been pulled through the portal along with Henry, and when the brothers managed to escape and return to Earth, Heaven had intervened.
Henry hadn't been allowed to follow.
Instead they'd redirected him into a dark dimension full of monsters, cut off enough that even his angelic powers couldn't function properly.
As far as Zachariah was concerned, that should have ended the problem.
The Nephilim should have died there.
He hadn't.
Zachariah's jaw tightened as he turned from the window. "We are almost there. I won't have him ruining everything now."
The angel standing across from him remained silent, waiting.
"Make sure he doesn't contact the Winchesters anytime soon."
A short nod.
Zachariah looked back through the window, irritation building as he considered the problem Henry had become.
They'd thrown him into a world that should have killed him, stripped him of his greatest advantage, and surrounded him with creatures that never stopped hunting.
And the bastard had still found his way back.
*****
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