Henry looked at Duane, who was shaking in the chair, breathing unevenly and looking absolutely terrified. The fear in his eyes, the tremble in his voice—it was convincing.
He had to admit it.
Demons were natural-born actors. Otherwise, why would they be called demons?
Henry kept his tone calm. "No need to worry. The blood test isn't that big of a deal. From what we've seen, the chances of getting infected seem pretty low."
Duane slowly stopped sobbing and lifted his head. "How can you say that?"
On the surface, it sounded desperate.
Inside, the demon was thinking something entirely different.
Rubbish human. What can you possibly know about a demon's masterpiece?
Henry gave a small shrug, glancing toward the hallway to make sure no one was around. Dean and Sam were in the next room, busy preparing materials for explosives.
Good.
"You heard the guy named Sam?" Henry continued. "He accidentally got infected blood in his wound. Didn't turn. It's been hours. So you can say the virus doesn't infect that easily."
Duane went quiet.
Then he smiled.
Not wide. Not obvious.
Just enough.
He hadn't expected the information he came to confirm would be handed to him this easily. It seemed that Sam Winchester really was different. Special. Resistant.
The demon inside Duane couldn't help but appreciate it.
Humans truly had a terrible habit of talking too much.
The demon inside Duane didn't consider, even for a second, that Henry had given him exactly what he wanted on purpose.
As far as the demon was concerned, this was arrogance—loose information from a careless human. It never crossed its mind that Henry might be feeding it a controlled answer.
After all, how would a random Winchester cousin know about possession? About the intent behind the experiment? About what the demon had come to confirm?
From the demon's perspective, it had simply succeeded.
Henry kept his expression steady.
"So just sit tight for a while," he said calmly. "We'll know once the results are back."
Duane nodded slightly, playing along.
Henry stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him, locking it.
Only then did he allow himself a quiet breath.
His plan had worked. The demon hadn't suspected him. It believed it had learned something important about Sam.
And that was the point.
"Sigh… now I wait," Henry muttered under his breath.
Now he just had to let the next part unfold.
Henry walked down the hallway and stopped at the doorway of the storage room. Dean and Sam were inside, quietly working. A few glass bottles sat lined up on a counter as they carefully poured in measured amounts of chemicals taken from the clinic's supply cabinets.
The smell was sharp and unpleasant.
Henry leaned slightly against the doorframe and cleared his throat.
"Umm… can I come in?" he asked.
He made sure his voice carried just enough uncertainty. Not confident. Not too steady. Just a normal guy caught in something way over his head.
Dean glanced up briefly but didn't stop working. "Depends. You good with following instructions?"
Henry nodded. "Yeah."
Sam looked at him more closely. "You okay?"
Henry gave a small, uneasy shrug. "As okay as someone can be when the town's falling apart because of some mysterious virus."
Dean tightened the cap on one of the bottles without looking up. "Yeah, well, welcome to Tuesday."
Henry hesitated just enough to look natural. "By the way… you didn't even tell me your names."
Dean glanced at him briefly. "Dean."
Sam gave a short nod. "Sam."
Henry shifted slightly, keeping his tone casual. "So… are you also like Uncle John? My dad used to say he was rebellious when he was younger. Forged their father's signature and joined the Marines underage."
Dean paused for half a second, surprised by that detail.
"Well, not exactly Marines," Dean continued, going back to his work, "but similar idea. We protect people."
"From what?" Henry asked, keeping his expression curious rather than knowing.
Dean didn't hesitate. "Demons. Ghosts. Vampires. Werewolves. Pretty much anything that goes bump in the night."
Sam shot him a look. "Dean."
"What?" Dean replied without looking up. "He'll find out sooner or later."
Sam sighed but let it go, choosing not to press the point further.
"Aren't those just stories?" Henry asked, letting disbelief show. "They're not real."
Dean looked at him plainly. "They're real. And we hunt them. And whether you like it or not, you're already in the middle of it."
"How?" Henry asked.
"Because this virus," Dean said, tightening the tape around a bottle, "isn't medical. It's demonic. Demons are behind what's happening in this town."
Henry opened his mouth in visible shock.
Sam sighed quietly. That was the reaction he was used to.
"I know it sounds insane," Sam said, calmer than Dean. "But it's the truth. And with what's happening here… someone might already know about you."
Henry frowned slightly. "Know about me?"
"Our family's got enemies," Sam continued. "A lot of them. If demons are running this town, and they figure out you're connected to John Winchester, you won't just be some random guy anymore."
Dean gave a short nod. "If you stay out there alone, you're a target. So you should come with us."
There wasn't dramatics in his tone. Just fact.
They couldn't just walk away from a relative they had just discovered. Winchester logic didn't work that way. Blood was blood, even if it came with complications.
Henry looked between them, weighing it.
"I'll think about it," he said carefully, not committing.
Dean studied him for a moment but didn't push.
"Think fast," he replied.
*****
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