Not Even A Memory
Summary: Henry’s MoL trainer is someone he can’t willingly forget. Pairing: Henry Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1450 Warnings: Canon-typical violence, flirtations between a married man and a single woman, death, angst. Square Filled: Flirting Under Fire for BTZ Bingo (BLACKOUT!) Square Filled: Henry for @spntfwbingo
A/N: I took several creative liberties with this, I know it’s not entirely accurate to the show as far as Men of Letters and all that. I took the idea and ran with it! The last fic of 2019 ... enjoy!
“Bah rah gah do.”
Henry’s mouth curled into a smile when he heard her words. He turned around, curling her fingers back into her palm before she could blow the chamomile in his direction and drop him.
“Nice try, angel face.”
Y/N grinned and opened her hand; empty. “Quick reaction, Winchester. You’re learning. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks. Reassuring to hear, especially with me and Josie coming to the end of our training. Think we’ll be ready by the time we swear in?”
She gave him a wink. “I don’t see why not. You’ve trained with the best.”
Henry smiled, too. They had one more case they would work together, and if he proved himself there, Y/N would recommend him as an official member of the Men of Letters. For that he was ready; for her to move on to her next trainee, he was not.
He remembered when he had been introduced to Y/N. A lot of the male trainees had doubted the young woman’s capabilities, but not Henry. He immediately saw the fire in her eyes, her passion for the supernatural. Her confident stature was anything but a facade; it told of knowledge and wisdom he could only hope to possess one day. When she had selected him as her trainee, Henry had silently rejoiced — and so had his heart. Without so much more than a glance, Y/N had captured his interest, and his attraction had only grown in their time together. Whether she felt the same or not, Henry wasn’t sure. Other than some shameless flirting, he had no clues about the level of attraction she felt towards him. Of course, he was married, and he highly doubted that Y/N would ever cross that bold line.
“Get your head out of the clouds and get home,” Y/N admonished. “You and Millie have argued enough lately. Surprise her — be home for dinner.”
And there it was, the confirmation of his thoughts. Y/N didn’t even give him a second look as he gathered his things and left, so Henry resolved to rein in his thoughts and let the matter rest
The shrill ring of the telephone broke through the silent Winchester house. Millie riled from her sleep, rolling over to wake Henry.
“The phone, Henry. Get the phone, before it wakes Johnny.”
Henry rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he trudged to the kitchen and picked up the receiver from its base.
“This had better be important.”
“Henry!” Y/N’s desperate voice came across the line. “Henry, I need your help. I’m in the old Becker warehouse, I’m being held —”
Before she could finish her sentence, Henry could hear the sounds of the phone fumbling from her hand. Muffled voices, rough and loud, said things he couldn’t make out, then the line went dead.
Henry hurried back to his room, dressing in the dark before waking Millie to let her know that he was leaving.
“Duty calls,” she sighed. “Be careful out there.”
His wife rolled over, away from him, letting him know that he wasn’t even close to being forgiven for anything just because he had made it home from dinner.
For a moment, he considered staying. Maybe this was only a test. What situation could Y/N possibly be in that she couldn’t get herself out of? But Henry couldn’t make himself forget the desperation in her voice. He couldn’t make himself stay.
The warehouse was dark and isolated. Henry picked the lock on a side door and let himself quietly into the building. Gun in hand, spells in mind, Henry trekked carefully through the hallways. Light spilled out from under one of the doors, so Henry made for it, opening it carefully and quietly, but ready to be attacked from the other side.
The room was empty, save for Y/N, beaten, gagged, and tied to a chair. Henry tucked the gun into the holster concealed under his jacket, then gently caressed her face and said her name. She came to, eyes wide and limbs struggling to free themselves.
“Shh, shh. Y/N, listen, I’m gonna get you out of here, but you have to be quiet. C’mon.”
Henry untied her hands first, and then her mouth. She gasped for breath before looking at him in awe. “How did you know I was here?”
“You called the house, Y/N.”
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Not at this hour.” She smirked. “You’ve just been waiting to have me all tied up, haven’t you?”
She was weak, so Henry picked her up from the ground, and smiled that her humor was still intact. “Oh, trust me, angel face. If I had the chance to have you, I wouldn’t tie you up.”
She laughed, but the action must have caused sharp pain somewhere because she drew in a sharp breath. “A demon brought me here. Probably the demon who called you, to draw you out. I don’t know what they want with you, Henry, but it must be big.”
Henry smirked as he prepared to carry her back to the door he had come in through. “Who wouldn’t want me?”
She leaned her head on his shoulder as they hurried toward their exit. “You’re too handsome to resist.”
Even with the flirtatious tone in her words, Henry could tell that she was fading fast. He nudged her back to with his shoulder, encouraging her to stay alert.
“We’ll get you out of here and back to the bunker, get you all fixed up.”
“You’re a smart man, Henry Winchester. Smart and strong and handsome. You keep going. The Men of Letters needs more Winchesters.”
Henry didn’t like it. He didn’t like hearing her talk like she wasn’t going to live through this. He told her again to hang on, he would get her to help. Even as he encouraged her, though, her eyes were struggling to stay open.
“Do you want to watch her die, Henry, or shall I put her out of her misery?”
He stopped in his tracks. The demon in front of him, inhabiting the body of a man Henry doubted anyone but the police would miss, had come out of nowhere. He held tight to Y/N and set his jaw firm.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing you have yet,” the demon replied, “but soon. My name is Abaddon.”
Henry’s mind searched his memories, until the knowledge was clear in his brain. “A Knight of Hell.”
“She’s taught you well,” the demon grinned. “She’s going to die, Henry. There is no choice there. She refused to give you up, and now she’s dying for it. It’s your choice. You can watch her die, or I can make it quick. And, when you have what I want, you’ll hand it over without hesitation.”
“Don’t,” Y/N mumbled. “Don’t do it, Henry. I’m nothing.”
“You are everything, angel face. I should have told you a long time ago.” Henry leaned to press his lips gently to hers, then looked back to the demon. Tears glazed his eyes, but didn’t fall. “Let her go, gently, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Very well.”
The demon snapped its fingers, and everything went black.
When Henry was alert again, he was laying on a gurney, being wheeled out of the warehouse. He stopped the men guiding the gurney, and asked after Y/N.
“I’m sorry, Henry.” Cuthbert Sinclair approached the younger man slowly. Henry read sadness in his eyes. “We didn’t get here in enough time. Y/N is gone.”
Henry’s eyes scanned the immediate area. In the grass, not far from where he was, Y/N was laying on her back, her body waiting to be covered with a white sheet. Before she could be completely covered, Henry caught sight of the bright red line across her throat. His chest tightened.
“I had her. We were almost out.”
Cuthbert sighed. “That’s the way of it, with demons. I’m sorry for your loss, son. Best you get in touch with your wife, let her know you’re all right, and will be home soon. We’ll be taking you back to the bunker for a debriefing first. For whatever you remember.”
Henry remembered his last flirtations with Y/N. He remembered kissing her. He remembered how weak she had looked. He remembered everything she had taught him, everything she had told him. Of course, he wouldn’t share any of that with his superiors, or anyone else for that matter.
After the Men of Letters got the information they needed from him, Cuthbert himself cast the spell to take away Henry’s memories of the event — including Y/N.
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