In Supernatural TV/Vampire Diaries with The Force as the Chosen One

The grandfather clock in Bobby Singer's hallway chimed five-thirty, its aged mechanism echoing through the quiet house.

Outside, the first hints of dawn had begun to lighten the eastern sky, but inside the library, two figures remained hunched over ancient texts, illuminated by a single desk lamp.

"So this symbol here," Bobby said, his calloused finger tracing an intricate marking in Samuel Colt's journal, "ain't just your regular devil's trap. Colt designed it specifically for higher-level demons."

Lucien leaned closer, studying the complex pattern. Despite the late hour, his eyes remained alert, taking in every detail. "What makes it different from a standard trap?"

"See these sigils in the outer ring?" Bobby pointed to several small markings. "They're Enochian - angel language people say- if you believe in them. Colt somehow figured out how to incorporate angelic warding into demonic containment. Theoretically, it could hold a any demon."

"Any demon?" Lucien asked.

"Yeah, the nastiest of the nasty buggers. Cream of the crop in Hell's hierarchy, even the so-called Knights of Hell."

Bobby rubbed his tired eyes. "No idea whether they're real. But in another volume of Colt's journals, he does say that it should work against even them- nothing says, though, he's ever met one. Maybe heard some demon run his mouth or something."

The floorboard near the doorway creaked, drawing both their attention. John Winchester stood in the entrance, his expression hardening as he took in the scene - his nine-year-old son surrounded by lore, Bobby with a half-empty whiskey glass at his elbow.

"What the hell is this?" John's voice was quiet but sharp.

Bobby didn't flinch. "Morning to you too, John."

"Bobby, it's 5:30 in the morning. Lucien should be in bed."

Before Bobby could respond, another figure appeared behind John - Sam, his lanky frame filling the doorway, hair tousled from sleep.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, eyes quickly assessing the situation.

John's jaw tightened. "Sam, go wake your brother and Adam. I'll get Kate."

Sam hesitated, glancing between his father and Lucien, but nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

John fixed Bobby with a hard stare. "We'll discuss this when everyone's up."

As John's footsteps receded up the stairs, Bobby sighed. "Your daddy's got a point, kid. Should've sent you to bed hours ago."

Lucien shrugged. "I wasn't tired." It wasn't entirely a lie - his mind had been too busy processing everything to feel fatigue.

"Yeah, well, your mama's gonna have both our hides." Bobby closed Colt's journal carefully. "Worth it though. Kid like you needs to know what's out there."

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Sam pushed open the door to the small room he was sharing with Dean. His brother was sprawled across a cot, one arm dangling over the edge, snoring softly. 

"Dean," Sam said, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up."

Dean groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "Go 'way, Sammy."

"Lucien's been up all night with Bobby. Dad's pissed."

That got Dean's attention. He cracked one eye open. "The kid did what now?"

"Reading some book of Bobby's. They've been going through it all night."

Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Damn. Kid works fast." He glanced at Adam's sleeping form. "Should we wake the little one too?"

"Dad said to."

Dean nodded, getting up, the two moving to Lucien's room, to where Adam layed with his dinosaur plushy. "Hey, buddy," he said, his voice gentle. "Time to wake up."

Adam stirred, clutching his dinosaur tighter. "Is it school time?" he mumbled.

"No school today, remember? You're at Uncle Bobby's house."

Adam's eyes flew open, reality rushing back. "Where's Lulu?"

"Downstairs," Sam answered. "Getting in trouble, probably."

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John knocked softly on the guest room door where Kate was sleeping. "Kate? It's John."

The door opened moments later. Kate stood there in a borrowed robe, her hair loose around her shoulders. One look at John's face and her expression shifted from sleepy to concerned.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"Lucien's been up all night. Bobby found him in the library and instead of sending him to bed, they've been studying lore together."

Kate's eyes widened. "All night? After everything his body's been through?"

"My thoughts exactly."

She grabbed her slippers. "I'll handle this."

By the time Kate reached the library, her worry had transformed into maternal indignation.

Lucien sat at Bobby's desk, looking small among the towers of books, his notebook filled with careful drawings of symbols and notes in his neat handwriting.

"Lucien Raphael Milligan," she said, her nurse's voice in full effect. "What do you think you're doing up at this hour?"

Lucien winced slightly at her tone- and the full name, especially the middle name. "Learning about protection symbols."

"You're nine years old. Your body needs rest, especially after what you've been through."

Bobby cleared his throat. "Now hold on, Kate. Kid was already knee-deep in lore when I found him. The Force led him straight to my hidden compartment - one I've kept secret for fifteen years."

John's eyebrows rose. "Hidden compartment?"

Bobby gestured to the bookshelf where the secret panel now stood open. "Colt's journal. First volume, from when he was just starting out as a hunter. Most valuable piece of lore I own."

John couldn't hide the flash of interest in his eyes. He'd heard legends of Samuel Colt's journal for years, had been subtly searching for information about it on hunts across the country. And here it was, in Bobby's house all along.

"That still doesn't explain why you let him stay up all night," Kate insisted, though her tone had softened slightly.

"Figured the boy had questions that geniunely needed answering, with being led by the Force," Bobby replied. "And Colt's journal has information you won't find anywhere else. Thought it might help him understand what more about the world he's now in."

Kate sighed, turning to Lucien. "We'll discuss this over breakfast. But don't think you're off the hook, young man."

Bobby's kitchen table wasn't designed to accommodate seven people, but they made it work.

Dean and Sam sat on one side with Adam squeezed between them. John took the head of the table, with Kate and Lucien on the other side.

Bobby served a simple breakfast - eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee for the adults, milk for the boys.

As Bobby set a plate in front of Lucien, he noticed the boy eyeing the bacon with thinly veiled distaste.

"Something wrong with the food?" Bobby asked.

"No, sir," Lucien said quickly. "Just... I don't eat bacon."

Dean looked up from his own plate, where he was already halfway through his second strip. "You don't what now?"

"I don't eat bacon," Lucien repeated, slightly defensive. "Never have. It just looks... unappealing."

Dean clutched his chest dramatically. "No bacon? That's practically sacrilege in the Winchester family!"

John chuckled, a rare sound that drew everyone's attention. "Looks like Lucien and Sam will get along just fine," he said, nodding toward Sam's similarly bacon-free plate.

Sam smiled and raised his fist toward Lucien across the table. Lucien stared at it for a moment, confusion crossing his face before understanding dawned.

Hesitantly, he extended his own small fist, bumping it against Sam's.

Dean groaned theatrically. "Great, now there are two of them. The bacon-haters are multiplying."

"I love bacon!" Adam piped up, his mouth already smeared with grease. "It's the best part of breakfast!"

Dean immediately pulled Adam against his side, pretending to wipe away a tear. "At least I have someone on my side. This kid knows what's good," he said, gently ruffling Adam's hair.

Adam beamed at the attention, while Kate watched the interaction with a mixture of happiness and concern.

This was what she'd always wanted for her boys - siblings, family beyond just her - but the circumstances were far from what she'd imagined.

"So," John said, setting down his coffee mug, "Bobby tells me you found Samuel Colt's journal."

Lucien nodded. "The Force kind of... led me to it. Like it wanted me to find it."

"And what exactly did you learn?" John's tone was casual, but his eyes were intent.

"Different types of monsters. How to kill them. Protection symbols." Lucien hesitated. "And about the Colt - the gun that can kill almost anything."

"Gun that can kill almost anything?" Sam asked surprised, hearing about it for the first time.

"According to the journal, there are probably things out there it can't kill." Lucien recited from memory, "Though Colt himself never met anything he couldn't kill with it, but he wasn't arrogant enough thinking he made the perfect weapon."

John's expression remained neutral, but his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his mug. The Colt had been his white whale for years - a weapon that could potentially kill the yellow-eyed demon that had destroyed his family.

"Interesting bedtime reading," he said dryly.

"Speaking of bedtime," Kate interjected, "as punishment for staying up all night, you're not allowed to nap today, Lucien. You'll stay awake until proper bedtime to reset your sleep schedule."

Lucien nodded, accepting this without complaint. The prospect of a full day of learning how to be a hunter was far more appealing than sleep anyway.

"We need to head out soon," John announced, changing the subject. "Need to make sure we didn't miss anything at Blackwater Ridge."

"But you just got here," Adam protested, his small face crumpling.

Dean was quick to kneel beside Adam's chair. "Remember rule number four? Winchesters always come back."

"Promise?" Adam asked, his voice small.

"Promise," Dean confirmed. "Three days, tops."

Sam added, "I'll bring back some more books about Star Wars for Lucien. Maybe they'll help understand the Force better."

"I'd like that," Lucien said, genuinely appreciative.

As breakfast concluded, they moved to the front porch to see John, Dean, and Sam off. The Impala sat in Bobby's driveway, gleaming black in the morning sun.

Kate walked John to the driver's side, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "Be careful," she said quietly.

John glanced at his older sons, who were preoccupied with saying goodbye to Adam, then back to Kate. Despite his discomfort with displays of affection in front of the boys, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"We'll be back soon. I promise."

As the Impala pulled away in a cloud of dust, Bobby clapped his hands together. "Alright then. Might as well start your education proper."

------------------------

Bobby's workshop behind the house was a hunter's paradise - weapons of every description hung on the walls, cabinets of ingredients lined one side, and a workbench dominated the center of the space.

He unlocked a heavy cabinet and pulled out a shotgun.

"This here's a Remington 870," he explained, handling it with practiced ease. "Standard salt rounds for ghosts, but silver buckshot works on most shifters and werewolves too. Pump action means you won't be caught with your pants down between shots."

He demonstrated proper stance and handling, then handed it to Kate. "Grip it firm but not white-knuckled. Butt against your shoulder, not your arm."

Kate took it hesitantly. Despite growing up in rural Minnesota, she'd never fired a gun before.

"That's it," Bobby encouraged as she followed his instructions. "Now, shotguns are forgiving on aim - spread pattern means you don't have to be dead-on. Handguns are trickier."

He set the shotgun aside and pulled out a revolver. "This is a .38 Special. Good starter handgun, low recoil. Silver bullets for werewolves, consecrated iron for spirits that salt won't touch. Regular lead for humans gone wrong - sometimes the monsters ain't supernatural."

Lucien watched intently, taking mental notes on everything. 

"What about knives?" he asked.

Bobby nodded, moving to another cabinet. "Smart question. Guns run out of ammo, batteries die, but a good blade never lets you down."

He laid several knives on the workbench. "Silver knife for shifters, werewolves, and some fae creatures. Iron blade for ghosts and certain demons. Machete for vampires - American strain anyway. The European daywalkers need wooden stakes, preferably oak."

Lucien pulled out his notebook and began sketching the different weapons, labeling each with its specific use.

Adam watched from a corner of the workshop, eyes wide with fascination, until Kate noticed his presence.

"Adam, honey, why don't you go play in the salvage yard? Stay where we can see you."

Adam looked disappointed but nodded. "Can I look for treasure in the old cars?"

"Just be careful of sharp edges," Bobby warned. "And don't go inside the garage - got some nasty chemicals in there."

As Adam scampered off, Bobby turned to a chalkboard mounted on the wall. "Now for the really important stuff - protection."

He drew a circle with practiced ease, then added complex symbols inside it. "Salt lines are your basic defense - pure stuff, not that iodized table garbage. Ghosts, demons, hellhounds - none can cross it if the line's unbroken."

He tapped the symbol he'd just drawn. "Devil's trap. Demon steps in, demon stays put. Learn to draw this in your sleep."

Bobby moved to a shelf and pulled down several small cloth bags. "Hex bags. This one's for general warding - keeps most nasties from tracking you. This one's specifically against hellhounds - not perfect, but better than nothing."

He demonstrated how to prepare holy water next, reciting the Latin blessing over a flask of water. "Latin's gotta be right, or you just got wet demons instead of hurting ones."

"Why does salt work against spirits but not some other things, like vampires for example?" Lucien asked, his pencil poised over his notebook.

He always wondered if there is some explanation besides it just being the way Vampires and other things were made. Did it have to do with a specific universal disrupting characteristic?

Or is it simply the attribute of these beings because of lore and magic that they have these specific weaknesses?

Bobby looked impressed. "Good question. Honestly, there isn't a definitive answer. Most chalk it up to just how these creatures are. I personally have my own theories, that it maybe has to do with that spirits are made of energy."

"Salt I think disrupts that energy. Vampires are physical - twisted, unnatural physical, but still flesh and blood with the soul not exposed."

Kate had been quietly absorbing everything, "What about protecting a home? Salt lines seem temporary."

"For permanent protection, you've got options," Bobby explained. "Iron fixtures work against spirits. Devil's traps under rugs at entrances for demons. There's Anasazi symbols for Wendigos, though you're not likely to get one of those in your living room."

He pulled out a small metal disk etched with symbols. "This here's a witch-bottle. Buries under your threshold, keeps witches from hexing your home."

The morning stretched into afternoon as Bobby covered everything from basic monster identification to emergency first aid for injuries.

Lucien filled page after page in his notebook, occasionally asking questions when he didn't understand something.

"Kid's got a hunter's mind," Bobby commented to Kate during a break.

"I know I've been dumping a lot of information on you two, but the world waits for no one. I want you two to at least maybe remember a few things, but the boy seems to be really taking it all in. Seeing connections most wouldn't."

Kate's expression was complicated - pride mingled with sadness. "He's always been observant. I just never thought he'd be using those skills for... this."

"This life ain't what any parent wants for their kid," Bobby acknowledged. "But some don't get a choice. At least he's got family to help him through it."

As evening approached, Lucien sat at a small desk in Bobby's study, transcribing his rough notes into a more organized format.

The day's lessons swirled in his mind - protection symbols, weapon techniques, monster weaknesses.

So much to learn, to remember.

'Man, I wish I was like those main characters who somehow almost always get reborn with eidetic memory... I have to actually put effort into remembering all this shit.'

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier as time went on despite him trying to stay awake. The pencil slowed in his hand, his head gradually drooping toward the notebook.

Finally, exhaustion claimed him, and he fell asleep hunched over his work, pencil still clutched in his fingers.

Kate found him there an hour later when she came to call him for dinner. She smiled softly at the sight, shaking her head.

"Should I wake him?" Bobby asked from the doorway.

"No," Kate said quietly. "Let him sleep. He's earned it."

Bobby noticed her knowing smile. "What's that look for?"

"Reverse psychology," Kate explained in a hushed voice. "Tell Lucien not to sleep and make him focus on something he likes - works every time."

Bobby chuckled softly. "Clever. Might have to remember that trick."

Kate gently draped a blanket over Lucien's shoulders, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Sleep well, my special little boy," she whispered.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter.

Do tell me how you found it.

I hope things aren't boring- sadly, I can't yet just go into hunting chapters or the like. I need to set things up, before time skips happen and the like where hunting can begin.

Sam was 12 when John allowed him to hunt for the first time.

Lucien is still 9. Sam is 14, Dean 18, John, 41 (I fixed the ages, Adam and Sam have a 7 year difference, Lucien was born two years earlier than Adam did in canon.)

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)