The Impala was parked outside the house. Bruce knew that car from memory—a 1967 Chevy, iconic. He stepped out of his private jet at Lawrence Municipal Airport, Pennyworth following two steps behind with a briefcase.
The house was small, worn, with a gravel driveway. Bruce had the address. Dean would be here.
Bruce walked to the front door and knocked.
Nothing. He waited and knocked again.
The door swung open fast. Dean Winchester stood there, early twenties, flannel shirt, one hand already moving to the gun at his hip.
"Can I help you?" Dean's eyes were suspicious immediately.
"Dean Winchester?" Bruce asked.
"Who's asking?"
"My name is Bruce Wayne. I need to talk to you about your family."
Dean pulled the gun out completely. Not aiming it yet, but holding it steady. "I don't know you. And I don't like strangers talking about my family."
"Your father is John Winchester. Your grandfather's name was Henry Winchester." Bruce kept his voice calm. "My father is Thomas Wayne. He knew your grandfather."
Dean's hand tightened on the gun. "That's not possible. My grandfather's been dead for years."
"Henry disappeared in 1958," Bruce said. "My father has proof. He sent me to show it to you."
"Proof of what?" Dean's voice was hard.
Bruce pulled a photograph from his jacket pocket slowly, keeping his hands visible. He held it so Dean could see.
"That's my father, Thomas Wayne. That's your father, John Winchester. They're standing together in 1985. With your grandfather Henry."
Dean stared at the photo. His face went pale.
"Where did you get this?"
"From my father's private records."
"Your father knew my grandfather?" Dean looked confused now, not just angry.
"Yes. My father is trying to reconnect with the family. He needs to talk to John. Today, if possible."
Dean lowered the gun slightly. "My dad's not here right now. He's... out."
"When will he be back?"
"I don't know. Could be hours. Could be days." Dean looked back at the photograph, studying it. "Why did your father wait until now to contact us?"
Bruce hesitated. He needed to be careful here. John didn't know about certain things. Thomas had made that clear before sending him.
"Because he lost his memory for a long time," Bruce said. "He only recovered it recently. He's been searching for his family ever since."
"Lost his memory?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Car accident. Years ago. He didn't remember who he was or where he came from."
Dean looked at the photo again, then at Bruce. "You look like... I don't know. There's something familiar."
"We're family," Bruce said simply.
Dean lowered the gun completely and held the door open wider.
"Come inside. We need to talk. And you need to tell me everything."