Chapter 1
Phil Coulson stood outside the diner, a converted aluminum trailer with a bright yellow awning off the side that had a few table and chairs scattered underneath it. Sweat dripped down his neck as Phil spotted his contact on the far side of the makeshift dining area, the man’s back to the trailer and dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. With a quick glance around Phil shuffled towards the man, suit clinging to his body in the baking heat of the podunk town they had decided to meet in. Phil could feel the weight of the thick file held under his arm as he dropped into the seat next to the former Director of SHIELD and placed its heavy weight onto the table. Of all the cases and files Phil expected Fury to contact him about; Dean Winchester’s was not one of them. As far as both men were concerned it was a file that should have been erased from existence. The file had been to an extent, there were no digital records of Dean Winchester or his family on any of SHIELDs databases, in fact, Phil had the only copy and based on recent events he was damn glad of that fact. Phil repressed a shudder at the thought of what Hydra could do with the information in this file. It was one thing both he and Fury agreed on, on all accounts. Hydra could never be allowed to obtain any knowledge on the existence of the supernatural, at least, not more than they already had. Phil had wondered briefly after SHIELD fell if Fury had some inclination all those years ago when Phil had first met Dean Winchester, if Fury knew there were still remnants of the Nazi rogue science division out there, looking for ways to step out of the shadows and assume absolute control.
Fury reached out and pulled the file over, flipping to the most recent information which was dated a little over a year ago. It was a police report and the image of Dean Winchester at a gas station looking up at the security camera after he beat a robber to a bloody pulp. Fury continued to flip through the stack of information pausing at certain pages, pages Phil knew contained extraordinary and contradictory information. In all the years Phil had been working for SHIELD, shadowing and spying on people, gathering information, recruiting, he had never met someone quite like Dean Winchester. Phil has experienced some unbelievable events, things that have drastically changed his world view. But, for being humans, the Winchesters were unnerving and unpredictable. The reality the brothers operated in was something humanity could not deal with. Phil had a difficult time wrapping his head around some of the events written in Carver Edlund’s books even if they were corroborated by his own research. Fury shut Dean Winchester’s file after a moment and Phil placed the second, much thinner file down. Fury flicked it open, the top page stating the bare bones of information, only coordinates, a death total and the other known information on Hydra. The second page was a series of images, all of the same object. The rusted scythe looked harmless lying in the dirt surrounded by the concrete floor and various scientific machines. Phil knew that was not the case, Hydra wouldn’t be so invested in such an ordinary object.
“So, anyone who’s tried to pick this thing up has died,” Fury stated closing the file.
“Yes, instantly,” Phil nodded at Fury’s raised eyebrow.
“You want me to believe that Hydra believes they’ve found Death’s scythe,” Fury tilted his head, looking at Phil over his sunglasses.
“Yes sir,” Phil confirmed, ignoring the rolling of his stomach.
“You also want to contact Dean Winchester,” Fury’s voice was dry as he reached for Winchester’s file again, flipping through it.
“Yes sir,” Phil said his face calm.
“He shot you the one and only time you spoke with him,” Fury gave Phil a disparaging look.
“In all fairness it was poor timing on my part,” Phil glanced to the side, his recruitment of Dean Winchester was a failure, a smudge on his otherwise pristine record.
Palo Alto was hot and dry in September, the breeze off the bay doing little to cool Phil as he watched SHIELDs possible new recruit. Dean Winchester, 22 years old with only a car and GED to his name. Well, those and a list of felonies and misdemeanors that people dressed like Phil would usually be watching only to arrest the man. Phil however, wasn’t interested in bringing the handcuffs out, but he was interested in meeting the young man whose body language screamed elite military training, but whose file showed no active duty, just a father who is a former marine. Winchester had been puttering around Palo Alto for the past week, tailing a tall, dark haired freshman who Phil knew was his younger brother, Sam. Sam, who had received a full ride to college and had left Dean and their father to pursue a career in law. Phil watched as the sun dipped low over the horizon and Dean Winchester made his way into one of the college pubs. Phil followed moments later, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the low light. Winchester was seated at the far end, body positioned so he had a view of all exits. Phil crushed a smile that crept across his lips; he already knew the young man would make a good agent, vigilance didn’t come easy to everyone.
Phil caught Dean’s eyes as he made his way over and took a seat next to the man noting how Dean’s body stiffened, eyes turning hard and calculating. Phil didn’t miss the subtle movement to what the agent knew was a weapon, but he chose to ignore it instead shooting Dean a friendly look and signaling the bartender for a round. The bartender left them moments later and Phil tilted his head towards Dean waiting for the inevitable interrogation.
“You government?” sharp green eyes scanned Phil before settling on his face.
“I’m here to offer you a job Mr. Winchester,” Phil stated, ignoring the young man’s question which had an obvious answer. The raised eyebrows in response were not those of intrigue but rather disbelief.
“I didn’t know I was looking for one,” Dean’s lips quirked.
“We’ve had our eye on you for some time,” Phil spoke assuredly.
“We?” Dean’s voice was hard.
“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Phil made a soothing motion with his hands, one that had the opposite of the desired effect.
“Wow, do you have to say that in every pitch or am I just special,” Dean snickered as he reached to take a sip from his beer.
“We’re working on it,” Phil acknowledged with a slight smile.
“But I am special right, I mean that’s why you’re here,” Dean stated, his charming grin would have easily distracted others from the guarded look in his eyes.
“Well, you do have a skill set that has SHIELD intrigued,” Phil confirmed.
However, he didn’t get the reaction he was expecting. Instead of an arrogant grin, Dean’s face stilled, all expression wiped away and Phil felt a momentary flare of anxiety. He held the intent green eyes, keeping his face open as Dean searched it, for what, Phil couldn’t guess. Apparently he found it though because moments later Dean sat back, grin back on his face.
“Don’t think I can help you man, I’m just a high school drop out with nothing to my name,” Dean shrugged, slapping down some bills has he rose to leave.
Phil followed suit, leaving a generous tip before striding out the door after Dean. The young man had turned a corner down an empty side street, a gleaming black classic car parked on the side. Phil quickened his steps causing Dean to pause and turn, gun sliding out of his waistband and pointed at Phil.
“I guess I didn’t make myself clear, thank you, but unfortunately I will not be able to work for your super-secret shady government agency,” Dean gave him a sharp grin. Phil stopped short, hands still at his sides and unwilling to draw his own weapon.
“Why not Mr. Winchester, there’s nothing else for you to do. You’re brother has chosen a good path, he’s gone to college and as far as I can tell, you’re father hasn’t been in contact with you. SHIELD can offer you a place, a job doing good work, important work,” Phil stated. It wasn’t his usual pitch, but he didn’t have enough information on Winchester to know what would work.
Apparently, bringing up Dean Winchester’s abandonment was the wrong persuasion tactic. The shot rang out followed by the sharp pain of the bullet ripping through his shoulder. Phil dropped down to one knee, reaching into his suit for his own gun and drawing it out of the shoulder holster. Scuffed, booted feet stopped in front of Phil as the agent looked up into the harsh and conflicted face of a young man who had nothing.
“Stay the hell away from my family. You don’t know shit about anything in this world Agent and if you’re lucky it’ll stay that way,” Dean Winchester spat as he slid the gun back into his waistband. Phil watched as the young man slid into the classic, well-loved car and drove off, not once looking back at the man he just shot.
It would be years later, after the news of Sam Winchester’s girlfriend’s death that Phil and Fury would put the pieces together, would research the bizarre occurrences that drew the Winchester family to towns all over the US, would begin to understand the life these men led. It would be a clear night, the full moon casting shadows through Fury’s office when Phil and the Director would scrub SHIELDs systems clean of any and all traces of Dean Winchester.
“I presume you’ve been keeping track of him,” Fury sighed not hiding his annoyance.
“Yes sir, I believe I have the general location of the Winchester’s base of operations,” Phil confirmed, hope bubbling in his chest.
“I thought they were nomadic?” Fury leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. Phil flipped to a document in the Winchester’s file showing a pixelated aerial of an abandoned bunker with a black Impala parked in front of it. Fury hummed, nodding as Phil showed more images of the Impala pulling up to the bunker over time.
“Alright Coulson, you need a team. There’s no way I’m letting you go this alone,” Fury’s voice was sharp and commanding. Phil nodded in acceptance.
“Who exactly am I supposed to bring sir; the Winchester’s aren’t exactly the most trusting people and I am technically still dead,” Phil murmured. Fury gave him a contemplative look before heaving a long suffering sigh. Fury took out his phone and after a minute or so slipped it back into his pocket before looking Phil dead in the eye.
“There, no longer dead,” the former Director smirked.
“I trust you can assemble a team Coulson,” Fury called over his shoulder as he stalked away and Phil’s phone started chiming excessively. Phil looked down a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His phone displayed a growing number of unread messages as he quickly sent off a meeting time and place to each of the names attached to the texts. Phil let a full smile slip across his face, he had a team to assemble.