Absolutely! Thanks for your patience. H
Chapter 3: Road to Lebanon
The sun had barely risen over Mystic Falls, but Landon was already standing by the school gate with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He was nervous—but in a good way. Like something big was about to happen. For the first time in a while, he felt like he had a real direction. A real reason to move forward.
Behind him, Hope carried a duffel bag and a determined expression. "We've got snacks, water, enchanted maps, and a protective charm in case things get weird. You sure you're ready?"
Landon smiled nervously. "Not even a little. But I want to do this."
Hope nodded. "Good. Because I'm not letting you drive."
They walked toward the black SUV parked in the school's lot. Alaric stood by the driver's door, arms crossed, keys in hand.
"Alright, listen up," he said. "You're going to Kansas, not a vacation resort. Don't talk to strangers, don't poke around in cursed objects, and if anything breathes fire, call me first."
Landon nodded. "Got it."
"And if you see a demon?"
Hope smirked. "Run first, magic later."
Alaric sighed, handing Hope the keys. "You'll take turns driving. I've got wards on the car to protect you from minor threats, but stay sharp. The Winchester name still carries weight in certain circles."
Landon looked up. "Wait—are you saying someone might recognize it?"
"Let's just say, the supernatural world has a long memory."
---
The drive to Kansas took hours. Hope did most of the driving at first, while Landon read through the Winchester file again. He traced the map with his finger, following the line from Mystic Falls to a red dot marked Lebanon. He still couldn't believe this was real.
Somewhere near the Virginia state line, he asked, "Why are you helping me with this?"
Hope glanced at him. "Because I know what it's like to not know where you come from. To feel like you're just… floating. Lost."
Landon looked down. "That's exactly how I feel."
She smiled. "Then let's find your anchor."
---
By the time they reached Kansas, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the open fields and narrow roads. Lebanon was a small town—quiet, a little dusty, and surprisingly ordinary.
Hope pulled into a motel parking lot on the edge of town.
"We'll stay here tonight," she said. "Tomorrow, we find the bunker."
Landon stepped out and stretched. The air felt different here. He didn't know how to explain it—it was like something in the ground called to him. Like a memory that didn't belong to him… but lived in his bones.
---
Their motel room was simple: two beds, old carpet, and a faint smell of coffee. Hope fell asleep quickly, her spell books scattered across the nightstand.
Landon sat up, unable to rest.
He opened the file again and turned to a photo of Sam and Dean standing outside the Impala. The caption underneath read: "Kansas, 2005 – Just another day at the office."
He ran his thumb over their faces, wondering what kind of lives they led. The stories online talked about apocalypses, angels, and even God himself. These were men who saved the world more than once.
And he was… their blood?
Suddenly, the notebook in his bag fluttered open on its own.
A page he hadn't written on before now had a single sentence, scribbled in bold handwriting.
"It's time, Landon."
His heart skipped. He didn't recognize the handwriting. But it felt familiar.
He looked out the window at the stars and whispered, "Okay."
---
The next morning, they followed the map to the edge of town. Behind a row of abandoned buildings, they found it: a narrow dirt path leading to an old-looking entrance built into a hillside. It didn't look like much—just a rusted iron door half-buried by vines.
Hope reached out and pressed her hand to the surface. "There's magic here. Old protection wards. Someone didn't want this place found."
Landon stepped forward and pulled the old key Alaric had included in the file from his pocket. It fit perfectly into the lock.
The door creaked open.
A cold gust of air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust, oil, and metal.
They stepped inside.
---
The Men of Letters Bunker was dark at first, until Hope muttered a lighting spell and soft golden lights flickered on overhead. The place stretched deep underground, filled with hallways, vaults, and hidden rooms.
"This is insane," Landon whispered. "It's like a secret government base."
Hope was already scanning the walls, running her fingers over ancient symbols. "It's more than that. The Men of Letters were like magical scholars. Think secret supernatural historians."
They walked through a long hallway filled with glass cases—each one holding a strange artifact. Crossbows, ancient tomes, and things Landon couldn't name.
Eventually, they reached what looked like a library.
Dust floated in the air like ghosts.
In the center of the room sat a long wooden table. On it was a journal. The leather cover was worn, the initials D.W. pressed into the corner.
"Dean Winchester," Landon said quietly.
He opened the journal. The pages were full of notes in strong, messy handwriting. Monster names. Weaknesses. Personal thoughts.
Then, tucked in the back, he found a page folded several times over. He opened it slowly.
Landon James Kirby – If you're reading this, you made it. That means it's your turn now.
Landon stared at the page.
Hope looked over his shoulder. "It's a message."
He kept reading.
> "I didn't know you were out there. Hell, maybe I never got to meet you. But if you're holding this, then you're part of our story now. That means you're a hunter. Whether by blood, fire, or choice—it's in you. Protect people. Help them. That's what we did. That's what you do now."
Landon swallowed hard.
> "This life ain't easy. But it's worth it. Especially if you got good people by your side. Don't run from what you are. Embrace it. Learn it. And make your own path."
Underneath the note was a small symbol—a phoenix rising from flames.
Hope whispered, "He knew."
Landon closed the journal slowly. His hands were shaking.
"I don't feel ready," he said.
"You don't have to be," Hope replied. "You just have to start."
---
They explored a little more, finding an old weapon rack and a few boxes labeled "Hunter Essentials." Most of it was outdated, but one thing stood out—an iron blade engraved with phoenix runes. It glowed faintly when Landon touched it.
He felt it in his chest. Like a key turning in a lock.
Hope stepped back. "That blade's bonded to you."
"How can you tell?"
"Because you're glowing, Landon."
He looked down. Sure enough, his arms were pulsing softly with golden light. Not flames. Not fire. Just energy.
"I think this place was waiting for me."
---
They left the bunker a few hours later, the sun starting to dip again. Landon carried the journal and the phoenix blade in his backpack. He felt different—tired, but full. Like something lost had been returned.
As they reached the motel, Hope glanced over at him. "So what now?"
Landon took a deep breath.
"I train. I learn. I become someone who doesn't have to be saved all the time. I carry both names—Kirby and Winchester—and I figure out what that means."
Hope smiled. "Then let's get to work."
He smiled back.
For once, he didn't feel like a mistake.
He felt like a spark.
Ready to burn brighter than ever.
---
End of Chapter 3