Timeline: Set right after the accident in Danny Phantom (so, a month or so pre-Mystery Meat and rest of show) and in Supernatural Season 1, when John has begun forwarding calls and jobs to his sons. If I did the math right, Sam should be about two years older than Jazz and four years older than Danny (although in 2004 he would also be a sophomore at Stanford and not hunting with Dean yet, but we'll just ignore that and be happy that the timeline almost works out perfectly).

Putting Out the Welcome Mat

July 1, 2013

They had stuck close to each other for this last hunt, watching each other's backs as they inched forward into the black dog's lair. No separating for any reason whatsoever and no necessity for check-ins. A ring tone (at least Dean's ring tone with its rock metal melody) would only scare the creature into disappearing, or feeling cornered, neither of which the Winchesters wanted. So it had been one of their rare hunts with an enforced radio silence. All cell phones turned off until further notice.

Now that they were done, though, the phones all went back on and Dean quirked an eyebrow at the beeps for missed alerts coming from both his personal cell and their dad's old phone. It was odd to have one call in that kind of time frame, let alone two. They weren't really the most popular people on the planet, had no friends to get calls from, at least in his case, and only had a few contacts in the hunting world who would call with a job. At least on Dad's phone it made more sense. He checked that one first, ignoring Sammy's soft huff in the background, because even if his younger brother couldn't understand why, the jobs forwarded to them via their Dad would always take top priority. They had the Winchester name to uphold, after all, and any call from one of John's contacts would be more important than anything coming over his personal line.

After dialing the security code, a booming voice that he didn't recognize started playing over the recording.

"Hey, Johnny!" a man shouted to start off the message.

Dean's forehead crinkled as he wondered who in this entire world would be stupid enough to call his dad anything other than John. Or Winchester. Perhaps it was someone calling a wrong number? But what kind of luck would a person have to accidentally call a hunter?

"It's me… Jack! Jack Fenton," the man proclaimed, just in time to solve that particular mystery. The crease disappeared, only to return the moment Dean placed who this man was. He'd only met the Fentons once, back when Sam was in high school, but there was no way he could ever forget the family.

Sam looked over at him as he finished packing the weapons into the trunk and pulled out a roll of gauze to wrap around his bloody knuckles, fortunately the only injury of the hunt and something he could bandage in his sleep. His sharp gaze took in his brother's changing expression and tried to decipher everything he wasn't hearing from the message.

"So," the voice continued, bouncing along like an excited puppy, if it was possible for a voice to do such a thing. "You remember that top-secret project I was telling you about when you were over? All of those blueprints I had you look at?" he asked in a conspiratorial stage whisper that had Dean wracking his brain to try to remember what his dad had been discussing with this man when they were over, but he had been hanging out with Danny the whole time and had stayed away from the adults' conversation. Didn't remember his dad mentioning anything about this after they had left, either. Hadn't ever asked.

"Well, guess what?" Jack's recording said, so loudly that Dean had to pull the phone away from his ear. "We just plugged it in and it works, J-Man!" Dean wrinkled his nose in distaste at the second, much worse, nickname, disliking the voice and the man it belonged to more and more as the message went on and wondering how their dad had managed not to throttle the guy before they left. Because they had been staying at their house for several days, as he recalled.

"I mean, it didn't work when we first plugged it in," he explained in a drawl that quickly became faster with unbounded excitement. "But then poof! all of a sudden it did. So the portal is up and running!"

"Portal?" Dean repeated under his breath, now starting to understand why this man had called. Their dad knew about as much about how portals and supernatural gateways opened and operated as anyone, and had quick access to Bobby's permanent in case he needed further research.

"Portal?" Sam mouthed from across the hood of the impala. Dean nodded confirmation but then turned his attention back to the phone, because what kind of portal was it and why was Jack Fenton wanting to open one? From his own not too shabby experience, most of the time, people who knew about the stuff in the dark wanted to close the door on it, not put out a welcome mat and offer it some tea and cookies.

"Just think about it!" Jack exclaimed, and Dean was, with an ever-sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "A doorway to another dimension!" Dean began shaking his head, an eloquent stream of unflattering names running through his head when it got even worse. "We've got a working doorway to the Ghost Zone now; this means we can research above and beyond anything we ever dreamed of in college! It's been incredible, you've gotta come check it out!"

Dean stood still as his heart stuttered a couple beats and he forgot to breathe.

The Fentons. Had just opened a gateway. To wherever the ghosties hung out when they weren't haunting the land of the living.

There were no words to describe how bad the situation was, but it couldn't be said of Dean Winchester that he did not attempt the impossible. As soon as he recovered, the curses began to fly fast and furious, a stream so continuous that even Sam looked concerned. He jerked open the car door and fell inside, Sam following suit a second later even though he still didn't understand what was going on, and began driving away before the rest of the message had even finished.

"Oh right," the man chuckled good-naturedly after some fumbling on the other end of the line and Dean thought it was the worst sound in the world. "Almost forgot. We're still in the same place, Amity Park, so just zip on over here and Mads and I will be expecting you! We'll even have fudge!"

Then the recording clicked off and Dean had to curb the impulse to chuck it into the windshield as hard as he could. Instead, he dropped it cluttering onto the dashboard where it promptly slid into Sam's lap when he lurched onto the highway's entry ramp. The younger Winchester grabbed it suspiciously, as if he thought that merely touching the plastic would contaminate him with whatever it was that had affected Dean so much.

"What is it?" he asked warily, not really surprised when Dean didn't respond for a while with anything other than a pull of his right hand down his face.

Muscles in his jaw twitched as his mouth worked fruitlessly a couple times. "It…" he began eloquently before deciding to switch tacks. "Do you remember the Fentons at all?"

"Fentons…?" Sam mused. "I don't think…"

"Oh yeah, sure you do," Dean interrupted. "We stayed with them for like a week when you were in high school." He looked over at his brother, still tense, but trying to prompt his memory of that bizarre trip. "Crazy family. Had a weapons vault in their basement lab…? Operations center on the roof that could turn into a blimp…?" he recalled. "Come on man," he said a tilt to his head, "you gotta remember this. All of their food glowed green so you refused to eat it and basically lived on fudge while we were there…? And Jazz! You know, red head who liked books as much as you do? The two of you were getting pretty chummy," he said with a smirk.

The light bulb clicked over Sam's head. Cause, heh, red head. His little brother sure knew how to pick 'em on the rare occasions when he picked 'em.

"Oh right!" Sam exclaimed, shifting in his seat as the memories poured in. "I talked her through the textbook of the psychology class I was taking. She loved it." He smiled a little bit, shyly, and Dean grinned, despite everything.

He had seen the signs during their visit. Sam had liked Jazz a lot and she had liked him right back, the high schooler with the advanced textbooks, lanky locks, and irresistible dimples. Neither one of them had any experience in flirting and it made the visit really entertaining for him until he realized that nothing would ever happen between them until he took Danny off to a separate room in order to talk about cars and mechanics and left them alone.

Looked like Sam was remembering those stolen moments as well, and wasn't averse to going back for a round two. Might be good for him to spend some time with a girl he'd liked even before he had met Jessica.

"Yeah," Sam said, clearing his throat. "I remember them now." His nose wrinkled as he continued to sift through his memories. "I'm thinking… there were… colors…?" he asked. "This is going to sound really weird but… orange. And turquoise?" His lips pursed and Dean could tell he was trying to place the memories and couldn't find anything that really made sense. But of course, they wouldn't, because the memories themselves didn't make much sense. Then again, nothing ever seemed to make sense in their crazy lives. "Is there a reason for that?"

"Dude, yeah," Dean was nodding his head now. "The parents wore jumpsuits 24/7. Madeline, uh, Maddie, wore something teal-ish and Jack was hazard orange."

"Oh right," Sam's forehead wrinkled for a while before he made a 'huh' sound.

"Yeah," Dean huffed.

"So…" Sam paused and chewed his lip. "What about them?" he finally asked, having the feeling that he didn't really want to know, but needing to find out what they were getting into via this high speed race across the country.

Dean grit his teeth. "So, you remember that these people were obsessed with ghosts, right? Knew they existed, studied all of the non-existent evidence in college…?"

Sam nodded. He remembered how odd it was to meet a non-hunting family that was convinced that ghosts were real, especially when none of them had ever even seen one before.

"Well," Dean drew in a deep breath and shook his head a bit as tried to contain the anger seething just under the surface. "Turns out that when we were visiting, Jack showed some blueprints to Dad."

"Blueprints?" Sam questioned. "Blueprints to what?"

"To a portal," Dean pinned him with a stare. "To what he called 'The Ghost Zone.'"

Sam's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

Sam shook his head incredulously. "Why would they want to open up a portal? Rifts in reality never end well. And why would you want to let the ghosts come in?"

"Because the doctors Fenton want to," he paused his clipped speech, licking his lips, "study the ghosts. And they think that they'll have unlimited access to as many nice spirits and they'll be able to talk to them while they oh-so-nicely sit there and wait their turn to get examined!" His grip was tight against the steering wheel and he was breathing hard as he sped around a red mustang already going fifteen miles over the speed limit.

"They don't really think that, do they?" Sam asked, unable to believe it.

"Oh yes they do."

"And… will it work?" he wondered seriously. "Do you think they can actually get a portal going?"

"Apparently, they just did." Dean chewed the inside of his lip as he tried to keep control over his voice and emotions. "Message was Jack inviting Dad to come see it in action."

Sam instantly sobered when all of the implications of the matter-of-fact announcement filtered into his over-active and ever-analyzing brain. "Oh."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "'Oh.'"

The car was filled with a tense silence for the next few hours as Dean sped down the highway until they needed to stop for gas. When the needle on the gauge dropped dangerously low, he finally pulled off the road and up to the nearest station without a word.

As Sam got out of the impala, he hesitantly asked, in a tone that sounded like he wasn't sure whether he should bring it up, "Did you listen to your other message?"

"No," Dean replied tersely. In all honesty, he had forgotten that there was another call in the tumultuous wake of the first one.

"Well, I have to go inside," Sam jerked a finger toward the bathroom sign. "So you'll have a minute if you wanted to do that now."

"You better hurry up," Dean warned in a voice that showed he was going to pull away as soon as the tank was full, no matter who was in, or not in, the car.

"Dude, I just need to take a leak. I'll be a minute," Sam protested before he turned and jogged inside to prove his word.

Dean set up the pump and leaned against his baby while taking a few steadying breaths. The adrenaline beating through his system might kill him at this rate before they ever got to Illinois.

The gas was pumping more slowly than he would like, but unfortunately there was nothing he could do since no amount of cursing would change that. So he decided to take Sam's advice to use his time by listening to the forgotten message on his phone.

Pulling out his cell, Dean morbidly wondered if there was anything he could possibly hear to make this day worse. Of course, he shouldn't have even formulated the thought, because he was a Winchester and the universe was out to get them. Also, the message was left on his phone and he never got calls with good news.

He didn't recognize the number—not that that was uncommon since he could count on one hand all of the numbers that ever had need to call him repeatedly—but he did recognize the faltering voice that began talking, even though he hadn't heard it in years. It was Danny. The Fenton's youngest son.

Dean's entire frame clenched in expectation of… something very bad. He had left his number with Danny in case he ever needed to get a hold of him, but the kid had never called before. And now he was calling just when they had gotten a call from his dad as well? He couldn't construe any scenario in which that could possibly be a good thing.

"Hey… Dean," the young voice said. He sounded shaken, taking in deep breaths in between his words. "Didn't know if this number would work. Uh, guess it does… well, hope it does and this is you." A pause. "Anyway, you said I could call if I needed to talk to you. And, uh, if that's still true, I… I need to talk to you."

Dean's breathing matched that of the boy in the recording and he fought to control it. He could practically hear the kid licking his lips—or rubbing the back of his neck, as he now remembered him doing upon occasion during their visit—but he was too frozen to do it himself, scared of what was coming next, but glued to the phone.

"I know my dad called your dad, so you're probably on your way," Danny sighed and Dean thought, just as bitterly as family loyalties dared, that his Dad probably didn't know the message existed and would never listen to it, would never come. It was just the Winchesters junior coming this time, and hopefully it would be enough to fix this problem, although he was beginning to doubt it the more he thought about what they were up against.

"But… you're not…" Danny faltered. "It's not…" he stopped again. "You don't want it open. The portal," he clarified, unnecessarily. That was one skill their job honed particularly well: Dean was used to picking out the few meaningful words in minutes of shaken ramblings.

"Do you?" the teenager asked, voice rising. "Mom and Dad want to catch some. Ghosts. And study some… Dissect them… See what makes them tick… on the inside…" It seemed to take effort to pull himself out of that train of thought and get to the point of his message.

"But you're just going to hunt all of them down when you get here. Before they get a chance to. Because that's what you said you did. Right? That's what… You hunt supernatural things. You hunt ghosts. Because they're evil." A beat. "And I…" there was a sniff on the other end and it sounded like the kid's throat was closing up as he finally began losing the battle against the emotions that had been raging through him throughout the entire recording. "Don't want you to…"

Danny drifted off, coming close to hyperventilating and Dean was nearly shaking as he tried to figure out what his young friend was asking of him behind the broken words.

"Dean?" Sam asked as he walked up, keeping his distance as he saw his brother's body language, but coming close enough to offer up support if it was needed.

"Dean?" Danny parroted on the other end of the line, his voice so fragile it sounded like he was nine again, instead of the teenager he was now.

Dean held up a hand to Sam just when the younger Winchester was starting to look overly concerned at the lack of response. Then, as the silence in the message lengthened, he pointed to the hose, which had stopped while he hadn't been paying attention. Sam replaced it in the pump and turned the gas cap until it clicked, then flipped the cover back into place. He turned back to Dean, waiting for further orders, and blinked in astonishment when he was tossed the keys and Dean walked to the passenger side of the car, phone still up to his ear.

With an disbelieving glance—he would have thought this was all some huge joke and Dean would punch him and reclaim the keys to his baby the moment he tried to sit down in the driver's seat because Sam had been trying for years and never been able to drive the car while his older brother was conscious, but this couldn't be a joke because he was actually sitting behind the wheel without repercussion and really this was the last kind of situation in which Dean would ever begin a prank war—Sam started the car.

Pulling out, he quickly resuming Dean's previous route and pace and his brother ignored him in favor of whatever he was hearing from the phone that was chiseling those unnaturally harsh lines around his eyes and mouth.

"They're not all evil, right?" Danny asked, voice desperately hopeful, but for what reason, Dean didn't know. "Some can be good? I know you said… but… there have to be some that are okay, right?"

The voice paused and Dean could hear harsh breathing that was dangerously close to tears.

"Because… because… it didn't work at first, Dean. The portal… didn't… just sat there… and Mom and Dad… they were so, so sad… so I went inside… just to check it out…" Dean caught his breath, already knowing that he wanted to keep whatever he was going to hear next from coming true, even though it was far too late and it had already happened. "And then it turned on."

Dean closed his eyes tightly, face too frozen in determined stoicism to mouth the litany running through his head: no, no, no, no, not Danny, no. The mechanic in him was already making the calculations in the back of his mind for how much raw energy, how much electricity something like that would need to build for start-up and that wasn't even taking into account the supernatural element because for heaven's sake, it was a portal, a gateway to another world and if Danny had been inside of it when it turned on…

Well, there was no possible way that he was alive to tell the tale.

"And… and now I… I'm…" The boy began to sob.

"You can fix this… right, Dean?" his broken voice asked before the message abruptly clicked off in the midst of tears on the other end.

Dean continued holding the phone up to his ear beyond the automated female voice telling him to press a button to repeat, save, or delete the message. He finally set his chin, pressed the button that got him out of voicemail, and dropped the phone into his lap without a word.

Sam kept on stealing glances at Dean as the silence stretched on through countless miles.

"Hey," he finally ventured. "Dean." He licked his lips. "Come on, man, tell me what's going on." He began to laugh nervously when there was no response and his brother just continued staring out of the windshield, glassy-eyed.

"You're starting to scare me. Come on, talk to me," Sam pleaded.

"Just drive," Dean whispered, overwhelmed by the enormity of the mess they were walking into and now convinced that there was no fixing this one.

Not really.