The Winchester trail part 3

[siriala]

He wonders at first where they are going. Until he remembers hearing about an old house Sinclair used to possess in these mountains, his first hideout created to avoid the Men of Letters and make sure he wouldn't get unwanted attention or visitors. Is this where this is headed ? Is Victor bringing him to face Sinclair to be tortured and killed in a place everyone thought abandoned ?

But Victor is a demon and now that he's not pretending anymore being a mere bounty hunter / Pinkerton hired by an egomaniacal narcissist hell-bent on creating a dominion upon which he reigns unchallenged, there's little chance he'll let Dean escape his own clutches. Demons tend to work for themselves, or someone more powerful than them in Hell. Their human allegiances last only as long as they're useful to them.

They ride for less than two hours, during which Dean ignores his bruises and many pains to concentrate on the path they're taking. He watches the sun rise and thinks about his brother, about Junior, and wonders if they've come to their senses, if Jimmy and Garth are good, too.

Parts of him want them far away from Victor, but another part needs their help and that's why he manages to use the peculiar pebbles hidden in yet another pouch on Impala's saddle, in the very case of his current kind of predicament, to create a trail he is sure Sam will be able to follow. Junior, too. Sam certainly taught him well.

Another moment and they approach an old decrepit house that would give anyone nightmares. The wind howls through the dilapidated roofs and walls dressed with cobwebs and weeds.

"As you probably guessed already, this is Cuthbert Sinclair's old home. I was the one who thought about using the house after he ran out and left his people to die when some of his precious creatures tried to make a bid for liberty. As a matter of fact, that's when I possessed Victor."

Victor doesn't miss Dean's startled expression and looks at him with a teasing grin.

"What ? Oh, I see. You're surprised it's been so long, I can tell. The great Dean Winchester can't have crossed path with a demon for more than ten years and trade casual insults with its meatsuit without ever realizing what was really there, can he ? Well, seems he did. Poor Victor has been crying for your help at the back of this skull for over a decade, you, his former lover, but it was my choice to die last night that finally set him free. Not the most famous hunter. Not your precious and cowardly Men of Letters. Me. The bane of his existence. How does it feel ?"

He seems genuinely curious and reminds Dean of the young, idealistic guy he had first met and kind of fell for, before Victor became jaded by life and crime. By a demon.

And yes, he feels bad for letting Victor down, not seeing what was really happening and leaving him to deal alone, but Victor had pushed him away first, not wanting to associate himself with someone considered a thief and a killer. He wanted to prove himself on his own, show he could make it in a world that never gave a second chance, and even less when the color of your skin was anything other than white. Dean's bitterness after being dumped had made him blind to Victor's suffering, and he would carry that knowledge forever from now on.

They dismount and Dean startles when he turns towards the house to find he's surrounded by seven men and women who look far from friendly. Dean feels his level of trepidation rise as the gag prevents him from joking the way he likes to make the situation less creepy. A lot less doomed, too. He's not getting a good vibe from the odds of his survival this time.

He'll just have to make sure to be killed and not end up as undead as the people dragging him inside the house.

In less than two minutes, he finds himself hanging shirtless, tied by his wrists to the ceiling, toes scraping by the floor for stability.

"Look what Victor dragged in…" a tall, dangerous-looking black man whispers in his ear, chilling Dean to the bone with the finger he trails down his neck looking for his pulse.

They're all watching him with hungry eyes and he wonders what they see, a man or a blood container. He knows most of them already, including Gordon Walker, whose hands are on him, and his former hunting partner, Kubrick. Last time he saw them, they had words about the way to go after the monster they were all tracking down. They parted ways unable to find a common ground.

Dean's idea was the better one, if memory serves.

Now Gordon seems happy to see him, but not for any reason Dean might care for.

"Good to see you, old friend," Gordon greets him as he takes a few steps back. "You remember Kubrick ? He was bitten not long after we last saw each other, which then led him to bite me and my little sister."

Gordon indicates a young woman who's still pretty despite her dead eyes.

"Next you have Dixon and his mate Lucy, and I think you know Luther and his mate ?"

On the other side of the room stand Luther and Kate, two vampires who would have got his father killed if not for Dean's infamous gun. And that's what bothers him : they should be definitely dead. The Hand of God doesn't offer second chances, even to vampires.

"Hello, Dean," Luther smiles at him. "Glad to see us again ? No ? Well, that hurts. Not as much as a bullet from your toy or the tortures Cuthbert put us through to find the secret of our immortality, but that hurts anyway. We'll have to show you how much."

"My friends," Victor intervenes, "don't we get ahead of ourselves. Where are our manners ? Poor Dean can't participate in this conversation with a gag, can he ? I'm sure we're all dying to catch up with him."

Dean can't believe his luck when Victor stupidly takes his gag off. Immediately, he begins to say the words that will rid the world of this constant evil only to find the words are useless and Victor - his demonic rider, at the very least - is still very much here, laughing his ass off instead of dropping down.

"We too have our little tricks, my dear Dean. Now you can recite all the spells in the world or even try to summon an angel. You'll get voiceless before you understand nothing is gonna work here, thanks to our very special sigils."

Fuck ! He really hoped to be able to use some of the incantations Bobby taught him to disintegrate demons once and for all, but if Victor is honest, it will do diddly squat. He can only bide his time and waits for the cavalry, hoping the vampires won't bite him before and make him everyone's worst nightmare.



They've beaten him up, flogged him till blood ran on his back that the vampires drunk with moans of pleasure. Healed him with some incantations when they thought the pain didn't register enough and they wanted to start fresh. Get some more blood.

He's pissed with himself that he couldn't always keep his screams inside, but he's alive, and he's still human.

And they want him to last, so they've untied him from the ceiling and abandoned him alone in the corner of a room, his hands bound together, to sleep and gather his strength. They're probably gonna play with him like that for a while, drink his blood and make him suffer, let him wonder if they're going to turn him into a vampire too, or offer his body to a demon after they locate and destroy his deep-skin tattoo. Maybe they will just kill him once he's too weak to be of any interest.

That's why he wants to escape, make sure Sam and his son won't be taken too. He'd like them to know he didn't abandon them, but that's not the most important worry he's got right now. He has to contact someone so that hunters will come and clean the nest. Give Adam a way to find his body and give it a hunter's send off to make sure he won't return as a ghost, alert the Men of Letters or any other hunter about the very effective danger of Sinclair's supposedly empty house.

And suddenly, as the fog in his mind lifts a bit more, he remembers that he still has his pants on and no gag, which means that hopefully he can use the Sprach to call Adam.

So he twists himself up until he can catch the rock in his pocket, gets blood from one of his still oozing wound and pronounced the words, hoping Adam will be able to answer and that Victor's sigils won't block the bond from his end.

"Why didn't you tell me they're taking you to Contention ?!" Adam yells immediately.

Dean sighs. It's gonna be a long day.



"Why didn't you tell me they're taking you to Contention ?!" Adam yells as soon as the connection takes.

"… not enough time," Dean answers, or Adam thinks that's what he says.

The truncated response makes him think of their relationship of late. Adam always chasing after his elusive brother who takes everything like a joke and hides his feelings deep inside. Dean used to be so close, and so honest with him, but this time is long gone, trickling like sand through Adam's fingers.

Now he's being replaced, Adam can feel it, but he's not going to let it happen without a fight.

"Where are you now ?"

"…old home… don't… Cuthb…"

Nothing for a long few seconds, save for Adam yelling at Dean to come back. And then Adam stops his horse and the communication settles, sound low but understandable.

"…riksen, he's a demon, and I've seen seven vampires, including Walker and Kubrick. Be careful, they know how hunters work and they won't be fooled easily. Do you hear me ?"

"I hear you, Dean. What about the men taking you to Contention ? Are they dead ?"

"No, and I want you to let them be if you meet with them. That's an order, Adam ! Tell the guys I'll kill myself anyone who touches them. Is that clear ?"

Adam wants to hurt something or someone, preferably someone. Possibly a rancher, a corporate guy and anyone else riding with them. In the meantime, a demon and seven vampires would make a good substitute.

"Why do you care so much for these people, Dean ? They're nothing to you."

"They helped me, and they never treated me badly. And Sam… Sam Wesson is in fact Sam Winchester, Adam. He's our brother ! I finally found him !"



Junior calls and shakes his arm at least three times before Sam finally opens his eyes.

"Dad ! Wake up ! Dean's gone !"

The last words gets his full attention and Sam turns to see the place next to him empty. Impala's gone too.

He shouldn't feel so disappointed after knowing the man for such a short time and despising him long before their meeting. He shouldn't be afraid of what might have happened to him, but the memory of the fight last night is still upfront, as well as the way Dean took care of protecting them all when he had no reason to do so for the men taking him to prison.

"Do you feel groggy too ?" Mr. Novak asks.

Sam nods and immediately regrets it. This is a killer headache he's got there.

Doc Garth comes to him and takes a look at his eyes, palps his neck and touches his forehead, listens to his heart.

"You'll live," he finally pronounces with a pleased smile. "Junior and Mr. Novak seem a little woolly too, you'd better rest."

"Certainly not !" Sam refuses. "We have to find Dean."

"If he drugged us, he won't make it easy for us to find him."

"Do you think it was him ?" Mr. Novak wonders. "Some delayed but long-lasting effect of the tattoo ?"

"I'm not sure," Sam answers, although something tells him it's not Dean's doing. "He could have left us all to die and run away more than once, but he stayed for us every time. I don't see him suddenly deciding it's time to leave and using drugs to do so when he's adept at hiding weapons and using them to solve his problems once and for all by killing those who get in his way. Plus the doc doesn't seem affected and he got the tattoo, too."

Junior snickers at the assonance, not at all repentant when Sam sends him an annoyed look.

"Then where is he ? And why did he leave ?"

"I don't know, but I'm gonna find him."



They take the only available road to begin with, but soon Sam remarks some curious, blue-tinged pebbles disposed at more or less regular intervals. In his mind, he can see Dean sowing them all along the way to wherever he's being taken, waiting for Sam to find him and help in his turn.

The others follow his lead as he leaves the main road and push his horse down a barely visible path. The air is thick with moisture, and Sam wonders what the other men really think, going after a dangerous outlaw and probably chased by more of the same. Do they feel the burden of their decision to go and seek danger as acutely as he does ? Do they enjoy the ride, despite their fright ? Do they regret ever coming here or are they glad they did, just because it's something new that none of them will ever get to live again ? Glad that Dean made them feel alive like no one else ever had before. Sick with worry about him.

"Is that a storm coming in ?" Mr. Novak asks, visibly anxious.

"The Navajo call it the male rain," Junior explains with glee as he nods. "It's gonna be epic !"

Sam is a lot less thrilled, and yet it could be the answer to his prayers, water at last for his land and his cattle. But he can't seem to focus on his old worries. The storm will soon be on them and they have to find cover, but he's more worried that a big tempest might take Dean's pebbles away.

And then he sees it, about seven hundred inches away from them. An old house, and two horses that he recognizes. Victor Henriksen's and Impala.

Sam is surer than ever that Dean wasn't brought here on his own volition but by the bounty hunter, somehow miraculously alive despite his deathly fall.

He signals to the men to stop and take cover. They can't guess how many enemies are in there, nor their species, and even if it's only Mr. Henriksen, the demonic man's a crafty hunter who's apparently impossible to kill. So their only chance is to arrive silently and take whoever's in there by surprise.

Contrary to Sam's fear, the storm helps tremendously. Thunder and lightning on the move to join them offer the perfect cover against the noises they make to approach without being heard. They also make the house look even creepier.

Ignoring his fear like he's done his whole life, Sam leads the way inside, keeping Junior close to him since he's sure there's no way the kid will stay behind and wait for them outside. He would have done the same at his age.

He probably still would, depending on who he's following.

Round the corner, he leans to look inside the next room and his heart does a double take as he finds Dean.

A shirtless Dean, hands tied high above his head to a hook in the ceiling, looking furious and ready to kill every one of the men and women surrounding him. Sam only recognizes Victor Henriksen, sitting with a huge grin on his face despite the strange angle some of his limbs seem to keep after his fall. His happiness obviously comes from seeing Dean tortured, his grin getting even bigger as a man lands a blow in his prisoner's stomach.

"That tickles, Dixon," Dean comments when he gets his breath back. "Did you ever learn to fight before you became a monster ? Maybe that's why you only ever turn girls like poor little Lucy ?"

A blonde woman takes a step forward and shows a row of pointy teeth, clearly affronted at being dismissed so casually for her gender and the way she doesn't look scary but fluffy, even like that. Dixon stops her with a raised hand without even looking her way.

On the contrary, he smiles and shows his own deadly teeth to Dean.

"Maybe I'm gonna turn you, this time. Make you my bitch, Winchester, so that you know how to obey an order."

"Don't worry about me, Dix ! I had a father who wasn't avaricious with orders and taught me the hard way to obey them."

"That's right," a tall white guy remembers with a delighted smile, "dear old John Winchester. His blood was delicious. Right, Kate ?"

"You're so right, baby. You know, Dean, Luther often recalls the great pleasure we two had with the both of you on that night. Our only regret is that we didn't turn you."

This feels more and more like some old friends' reunion and Sam wonders how many more of Dean's enemies are in this room.

"That's enough !" another guy cuts them. "If anyone turns him, it's gonna be me, but he's gonna suffer for a long while first."

"You, Kubrick ?" Dean muses, as if considering a surprising offer and coming to a negative conclusion. "Nah, you don't have it in you."

You have to give it to Dean for knowing how to piss off monsters, Sam thinks.

"You know I was the one who turned Gordon," the man replies, arrogant. "Your old friend and comrade, famous hunter Gordon Walker."

"After luring him in to try and save his little sister that you had already turned. Bold move indeed !"

Dean looks with sorrow at the pretty black girl standing further from him. A tall and big black man approaches and strikes Dean square in the jaw this time. Sam takes a mindless and aborted step but refrains immediately, hoping no one saw him. He can't barge in here alone, or with only Junior at his side. His kid is great with a gun, but after the werewolves he's not sure if that's any help against those toothy guys.

But then he turns and finds that the doc and Mr. Novak have joined them and wait for his signal to know what to do.

How is it that he became the leader here ? Although he spent time at war, he never was in a commanding position. He's never had any dream of being the one in charge. He minds his own business and likes to live in harmony with his land and neighbors.

Then here comes Dean Winchester, and Sam finds himself sort of promoted to sheriff first and then second in command, or acting captain in Dean's absence. All this in less than three days' time.

"Gordon," Kubrick says to the one who hit Dean in the face, "why don't you show our guest how much of a bitch you really are ?"

The man goes to retrieve a whip from a nearby table and posts himself behind Dean. Contrary to most of the other monsters, he doesn't smile and his size and coldness make him the most ominous and terrifying presence in this room.

The first strike of the whip has Dean howling and contorting in a very strange way. Until Sam realizes he's used his momentum to detach the rope that secured him to the hook and finish untying himself, landing back on his feet a freed man.

"Sam ! They're vampires !" Dean yells, proving that he did see him earlier, and hits one of his guards at the same time, "Cut their heads off ! And don't let them bite you or feed you blood !"

Dean counts on them to help so Sam goes in and the men follow him. The thing is, they're not really equipped for this. Bullets can only do so much, but they try, shooting again and again as much to keep the vampires at bay as to try and detach their heads from their bodies.

Dean manages, just like always, to produce some new weapon out of his pants and boots, one that looks like a butter slicer that he throws at Sam and then a sharp and thigh-long blade previously hidden in the cloth's seam. Dean doesn't wait a beat before he turns to the man he called Kubrick and slices his head off. In the next moment, he's on the other side of the room, cutting Kate's head before he runs out in pursuit of Victor Henriksen.

Mr. Novak has the silver knife Dean used to kill Edgar and he's menacing the black female vampire with it. She snarls and tries to get past it several times, as fierce as she was all shy-looking a few minutes before, but he holds his own. Sam keeps an eye on Junior all along, dealing with Luther who he has already slowed down a lot by piercing his neck with many bullets.

And then Sam's view is obstructed by the big black guy who was flogging Dean, looking mightily pissed off and ready to send him to his maker. Gordon gets two punches in and Sam doubles over, breath shortened by the violence of the blows. The vampire takes advantage of his temporary weakness to close his arms around his chest and squeeze, hard.

Sam quickly feels lightheaded, dark spot dancing before his eyes. Any second now, his ribs are going to crack and pierce his lungs, and it will be a slow, painful death, shocking up as he'll try frantically to draw breath and will be unable to do so because of the blood flooding his chest.

His only chance is to play the loss-of-consciousness card and he lets his body getting lax, waiting for the second Gordon will release his hold to turn the tables on him.

It works and Sam surprises himself with the swiftness of his reaction. As soon as he's free, he raises his hands, each one holding a handle of the weapon Dean gave him, and coils the butter slicer around the vampire's neck. He squeezes, too. Harder.

Gordon's eyes bulge out of their sockets as the thin metallic thread cuts into his skin, muscles and veins, always tighter and deadlier. Sam feels his arm muscles on the verge of giving up but he refuses to back down and puts in that little bit of effort that was missing to get the job done.

Gordon's head rolls down on the floor two seconds before his body follows suit. The sound resonates in Sam's ears, vicious and loud. His arms fall at his sides, almost powerless after the tremendous effort they gave, though he succeeds to get his right one up again to get off his face the little bit of blood Gordon's lost. Sam has another moment of dizziness when he thinks that if the lore is true and vampires don't have blood of their own, it means that this is the undigested remains of the last prey Gordon drank of. Maybe Dean's ?

"Dad !"

Sam jolts back to the present and gets to his son's aid, coming behind the vampire Junior has already more than half-beheaded with bullets but still keeps fighting, his hands now closed around the kid's shotgun to prevent him from shooting again. It takes all but two seconds to get the slicer around his holey neck and finish the job.

Soon Mr. Novak gets his first kill too, the man focused and solemn in this endeavor as usual, and the ground is now covered with body parts.

"Ha ha !" the doc exults to his right. "You got Garthed !"

Sam takes a second to look at him, amused despite himself by the guy's antics. He's like a child having fun at last after being cooped up for far too long in a classroom. He's reckless and vibrates with joy after taking down one of the vampires, watching Lucy's head roll on the floor and missing Dixon coming at him with a blade that he uses to slice the doc's right calf first, incapacitating him, and then this back, seconds before he pushes him towards Sam and the other humans who almost fall under his weight.

Garth is down, crying with pain. Sam leaves Mr. Novak and Junior to take care of him and looks up and around to protect them all when he realizes the vampire is missing. Did he take off to escape death ? Did he run after Dean ? Sam's got to find the outlaw, now.

He finds him right outside of the house, fighting with Victor Henriksen. The demon has him in a chokehold and Dean's face is turning an alarming shade of red. Dixon is watching them with a satisfied snarl, too cowardly to help but eager for Dean's demise.

Sam doesn't know what to do. He can't shoot, lest he might wound or kill Dean. But he can certainly get rid of the vampire. Dixon doesn't even see him coming and Sam uses the butter slicer once again to great effect. He's becoming very fond of this small, unassuming weapon.

"Don't come any closer," the demon warns Sam, his grip tighter than ever around Dean's neck whose attempts at fighting back are getting weaker and weaker.

"Let him go, and you have a chance to live to see tomorrow. But if you kill him, you can be sure your last hour has come, too."

"You think I'm scared of you ? Just because you were able to kill some lowly vampires ? Well, think again. There's nothing you weak humans can do against me ! And I'll take care of you right after Dean here has kicked the bucket."

Dean chooses this moment to prove him wrong by overthrowing the demon's hold on him with some weird and powerful move Sam didn't think any human to be capable of. Victor Henriksen fights him off to the best of his ability, but it seems Dean has tapped into some deep and unforeseen source of power thanks to his fear for his life and that of his fellow humans. Each of his blows has Henriksen reeling and losing ground, until he falls down and finds himself laying on the ground with a very pissed off Dean Winchester sitting astride, hovering like an archangel about to smite him into nothingness.

Sam can only watch, stunned, as Dean recites words from an unknown language, one of his hands on Henriksen's windpipe and the other on his mouth to prevent the demon's escape. Henriksen gets redder and redder, not even fighting Dean off as his body is wrecked with violent convulsions.

Dean backs off and lands right against Sam's chest as some final and deadly reaction travels through Henriksen. Maybe it's the effect of the demon being unable to leave the body, or maybe this is all because of Dean's words. What they can see of the skin seems to crackle, like the dry dirt of this land, the split obviously running over the whole surface of the former human frame as displayed through the tremors wracking it, and then it suddenly all implodes in a loud whoosh.

"You're definitely free now, Victor," Sam strains to hear Dean's words.

He still has his arms around the outlaw, the way they went up on their own to keep him upright when he stepped away from the demon. And something in him doesn't want to let go any more than he thinks Dean wants to get away from him. This closeness feels right, and it's only when the sound of the others inside the house comes to them that they detach, slowly and quite reluctantly.



Dean's not used to leaning on someone to get back on his feet. Dad weaned that need out of him a long time ago, long before he was even Junior's age. And yet he feels so complacent in Sam's arms. Recharged by the simple power of his little brother's solicitude and care.

It's a stark contrast to the overwhelming power he used to defeat Victor. He can't imagine where this came from, but he's glad it's been there at his disposal to get the upper hand. Just like he's glad that Sammy is now a man, tall and strong, who can be there for him just like Dean was when they were kids. He wants it to last, this close and uncomplicated mutual support, and become their new normal.

He feels the rest of the world can go up in flame as long as they have each other. He's often wondered if this was why Dad chose to get rid of Sam, if his incoherent love for his little brother might have been the reason why Sam had to grow up alone.

They go back inside after a while. The doc is badly wounded. He probably won't make it but he might have a chance and there's no way they can take him to Contention with them if they want him to survive.

Through the different rooms of Cuthbert's old residence, Dean finds enough cushions and sheets to create a makeshift bed for Garth and install him comfortably. If it's gonna be his last hour on Earth, and even if it's not, he should as well have it easy.

"Someone'd better stay with him while we find him a real doctor," he suggests as he gets back up. "Junior, you feel up to it ?"

"What ?! No, I'm coming with you !"

Dean nods.

"It's okay. I can understand why you'd be afraid to be left alone with a dying man."

"I'm not afraid ! I just don't see why it has to be me staying back."

"Well, Jimmy is kind of the boss in this sorry state of affair, and your dad is paid to take me to Contention. Leaves only you and me, right ? And something tells me Sam's not gonna let me stay here."

That gets a hint of a smile from Junior, something he obviously inherited from his father and that Dean loves a lot. He's already far too fond of this kid - his nephew ! - and everything that reminds him of his brother, gives him an inkling of what Sam might have been at this age, fills his heart with wonder and love. Sam might be thirty-two, he will always be Dean's baby brother, the kid Dean has to protect and love.

"Listen," he says to close the deal, "I promise to take care of your dad, okay ?"

They both turn to Sam as they hear him snort and Dean wonders if the man understands there's no one in this world who loves him more than the criminal and the kid who just made a pact and a truce over him. That they're both ready to fight and give their life for him.



Sam's never felt helpless in his life. Alone, abandoned, boring, embarrassing, somewhat of a failure… but never helpless, not since he became a man and got his own family anyway. But with the recent events turning his life for the worse, and now this whole scary universe he's discovering with Dean, he realizes that feeling helpless might be the saner attitude.

Unless he's with Dean. Next to him, Sam feels safe, but most of all he knows he's able to take on the world. And he doesn't want that feeling to end.

But it almost happened, and he shivers at the thought of Dean tied and shirtless at the mercy of several monsters and torturers who could have turned him even more evil after they were done playing with him.

"What did they do to you ?" he has to ask.

"Nothing I want to think about again. I'm just damn glad you arrived right after they healed me, so that I wasn't a dead weight !"

Of course, that's what Dean is afraid of. He's the caring type, not big with the feelings but getting things done and protecting those who are not like him. Sam feels close to him in this need to protect others.

"What do we do now ?" he wonders.

"What do you mean ? We have a train to catch."

"Dean, after everything that happened, now knowing what you stand against, you really think I can in good conscience deliver you to the people who want to hang you ? You saved my life, man !"

"And you saved mine too."

"All the more reasons to keep you alive."

Dean comes closer and put his hand on Sam's hair, holding the side of his head with his open hand in a strangely affectionate, almost paternal move, and Sam allows it, doesn't even think about stepping back.

"Sam, you need the money to be able to keep your ranch."

"Do you think it matters to me ? Do you really think I could still look at myself in a mirror after that, knowing I'm responsible for your death ? I'm not that kind of guy."

"I know. And I also know you won't take my money. That's why I'm not giving you a choice. I am going to catch that train. Either you're here to collect the money for your trouble - and surely Jimmy will give you advance payment for Junior's help, right, Jimmy ? - or it will go to waste. Unless maybe Roman's pockets are big enough to claim the reward…"

There's no better argument to push Sam into the right direction, which here means Contention's, and Dean knows it, of course. Combined with Junior being safe away from them thanks to Dean's cunning way to sway him, Sam accepts to keep up with their original plan.

His world might have drastically expanded recently, but he still needs that money to save his ranch.



Adam's next conversation with Dean doesn't go better than the previous one.

"Come on, Dean, if you can be alone to call me I'm sure there's a way for you to get back to Impala without getting caught and ride away."

"No, Adam. I can't leave yet."

"What ?"

"The time's not right, baby bro. I haven't found what I came here for."

"You're not making any sense ! You were taken, not… You let them take you on purpose, right ?"

Adam puts it all together, Dean walking into town while the rest of them left for the lair, not revealing that he wasn't in the coach and choosing instead to order him to spare the lives of the marshal and his deputy…

Dean simply smiles, the feeling somehow traveling along the link they share without losing any of its meaning, and it's all the answer Adam needs.

"I don't want you to worry, Adam. We'll meet back at the lair, you don't need to come to Contention, and you certainly won't touch a hair on Sam or his son's heads, are we clear ?"

Jealousy is too light a word to explain the rage taking him. No doubt Dean gets some of it at his end of the link, the way Adam can feel that Dean wants more from this stranger, wants everything Adam has been dreaming of but was never offered. Dean wants a stranger and he intends to keep him, give him Adam's place by his side.

He thought he was being replaced, but he got it all wrong. Ever since Dean took him by his side, Adam's been the one replacing someone. Keeping his place while Dean was waiting for someone else. It's just impossible to admit that the little brother Dean's been searching for all his life is now back and pushing Adam out of Dean's life, someone like Sam Wesson…

Adam shuts down the link. He doesn't want Dean to realize he's going to kill Wesson before the day is over.

He has to. Needs to protect Dean from himself. Now more than ever.

Even after rescuing Adam, even though John told him so many times that he would never see Sam again, Dean has kept on hoping all his life he would find him, looking for clues everywhere they've been. Adam has always taken John's words to mean their brother has been dead for many years now. But Sam Wesson has found the way to tear Dean's heart by giving him the very thing Adam never could.

But it's all a lie, right ? A terrible, orchestrated staging to fool one of the most dangerous men out there and lure him to prison to get the reward and the fame. Wesson has probably used magic, some powerful incantation able to sway even Dean's dominant mind into believing such a ludicrous assertion.

Wesson has forgotten but one thing : Dean has a real brother who will never let him get away with this. He's going to pay dearly for this mistake.



Time is just slow and boring after Dad and Dean leave. Junior occupies himself by gathering all the dead bodies in one room - not forgetting the heads - that he locks up before throwing away the key. He would set the house on fire if he could.

He checks on the doc regularly but the man's sleeping off his injuries and not great company at the moment.

Until he wakes up suddenly and frightens Junior into jumping up when he appears at his side without any noise.

"God ! Are you nuts ?! I could have killed you."

Garth smiles that gentle smile of his and Junior feels all his reactional anger disappear.

"Sorry ?" the doc offers.

Junior looks him all over, and something just doesn't feel right.

"Are you okay ?" he asks.

"More than okay ! I feel great. That little nap put me all back together."

That little nap really did wonders, considering he's not even limping anymore. As if his leg wound has completely healed in less than two hours.

The little nap has also made the doc hairier, and his nails longer. In fact, even his skin looks healthier than ever, flushed but unblemished.

Junior raises his gun and aims at the man.

Scratch that, not a man anymore !

"You're a werewolf !" Junior accuses, as if Garth has done this to him personally.

"What ?" the doc answers, genuinely astonished. "No, I'm not. Junior, are you crazy ? I know you went through some terrible stuff in the last couple of days but… My God, I'm a werewolf !"

Garth only needed to follow Junior's eyes to his own hands to realize the bitter truth.

"Oh my God !" he repeats again and again as he takes in all the changes he's been going through. Only his face remains practically similar, and that's the only thing Garth can't see at all.

"You lied to us," Junior reproaches. "You waited for Dean to be gone to attack me. Did Mr. Novak know ? Is he a werewolf too ? Is my dad in danger ?"

"No, they're not. We didn't lie, Junior, we really checked each other. I don't understand… it can't be true. I don't feel any different, you have to believe me. I don't want to harm you or anybody else. Well, maybe the werewolf who did this to me, and any other violent creature, but certainly not you."

The doc's babbling is for Junior the best proof that he's still the same guy in a way. Not a vicious predator, but a slightly different man, who makes bad jokes but has proved reliable and courageous. The same man who offered him candy the day he had to have a tooth extracted and helped him forget the pain by distracting him with his non-stop talking.

What should he do ? Dean wouldn't let a few childhood memories get in the way of what's necessary. He had seemed to like Garth Fitzgerald well enough, but he would kill any werewolf to make sure no one else would be affected. Even his dad would harden his heart and consider this solution.

"Please, Junior, don’t you see it ? Even if I am what you think, I am definitely not like the monsters who attacked us. Not like Edgar either ! Remember him ? How quickly he changed and turned into a killer ? Was it so different than the human being he had been for some forty odd years ? But you know me, right ? I'm nothing like Edgar ! I've never killed or hurt anybody. Even when I've been bitten more than once by clients, I never retaliated ! Why would I become someone else now ?"

Junior has the incongruous idea that maybe all dentists are werewolves in hiding after being bitten so many times in their career, and he feels himself getting swayed by the doc's compelling arguments. Maybe it's that simple, the man infected turns into a new version of what he's been before, slightly more dangerous, but not mandatorily a monster. The doc is a gentle man, and Junior really doesn't want to kill him.

"You don't have to make a decision right now, you know that ?" Doc Garth goes on. "You can tie me, and go back to your father. Leave me here, make up your mind, and come back later if you have to."

That could work. Or he could take the doc to Dean to let him decide what the best course of action is.

"Alright," Junior comes to a conclusion. "I'll tie your wrists and you'll ride before me so that I can keep you in my firing line. We're going to Contention."



Sam, Dean and Mr. Novak's arrival in Contention is met with disinterest. No one seems to recognize any of them, not even the infamous Dean Winchester.

They go straight to the hotel to hide while they wait for the train. Mr. Novak goes to the front desk to rent a room while Sam and Dean wait at the back door. A few minutes later, they come in and see the barman who looks at Dean with a strange expression, half-afraid, half-mercenary. Dean smiles and wishes him a "good morning" that the man hardly answers while Sam glares at him and shows off his shotgun.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Novak says as he leads them upstairs, "it's the bridal suite, that's all they have."

Gone is Sam's fierceness as they step into the room, replaced by a blush he's glad he cannot see. He doesn't know why he feels that way. Just because Dean had a few lewd jokes at his expense two days ago doesn't mean he's attracted to him or wants to bed him.

Watching Dean sit on the big bed and test its mattress with a few jolts sure doesn't help the traitorous road his thoughts have settled on. Nor Dean's suggestion that they use the time before the train arrives to freshen up.

After a boy has brought them two big jugs of hot water, Dean asks Sam to take his handcuffs off. Mr. Novak has excused himself and there's no one to tell Sam he can't do it. Once he's done, he stretches the folding screen to give Dean as much privacy as he can, and most of all to resist temptation. He's been hard ever since they arrived in this room, he certainly can't watch.

Dean sings as he makes himself cleaner. He's got no real talent, but for some reason his voice is kind of soothing to Sam's ears and he can tell Dean enjoys what he's doing, which is more than Sam will ever say about his own inability to carry a tune. Though he finds himself humming along more than once.

"Hey, Sammy boy, want to help me for a minute ?"

Sam freezes at the way Dean called him, and he doesn't even know why. And he can't go in there, see Dean probably shirtless again, without the danger of getting killed forcing him to keep a level head.

"Sam ? Are you there ?"

"I… yes, I'm here… what do you need ?"

He stays behind the screen for another moment, balancing his impossible desire with all the reasons not to act on it.

"Can you pour water over my head ?"

Sam takes a deep breath and goes in.

Dean is indeed shirtless. Sam never thought he would say that of a man one day but his back is a thing of beauty. The red marks left by the whip doesn't mar its attraction any, the play of his muscles under his skin so attractive that Sam is quick to grip the jug to make sure he won't make a foolish move. Something like connecting his hands with the magnificent backside Dean's position emphasizes to Sam's greedy eyes and sheer delight.

"Go on," Dean tells him, and Sam watches the water rinse the suds off Dean's short hair, willing to touch and tightening his grip on the veined earthenware pitcher at the risk of breaking it.

It's over too soon, Dean standing up to shake himself like a dog walking out of a river and laughing at Sam's cries of outrage.

"See if I ever help you again !" Sam rants, but he's pretty sure the smile on his face makes his protest null and void.

"I'll make it up to you. It's your turn now."

Dean pushes Sam's jacket down his arm before he has time to realize the man is once again well into his personal space. Then Dean's hands begin to unbutton his shirt, parting each side to bare Sam's throat and upper torso and, just like the night they checked each other for werewolf bites, his eyes get attached to the right side of Sam's neck, halting any movement for good.

"What is it ?" Sam asks, concerned with Dean's stillness.

"Nothing," Dean answers at last, "I thought you were hurt."

He knows he has another mole there, and maybe it can pass for a scratch or something at first glance. It doesn't seem like the truth, tough, but Dean chooses this moment to remember he should give Sam more privacy. Sam tells himself it's not disappointment he feels as he's left alone on this side of the screen to wash quickly in his turn. He doesn't dare calling for help when it's time to rinse his own hair, instead making a mess because of his nerves. He tries to get it all clean and nice, stalling before he has to go back inside the room, closer to Dean and the yearning that gets more prominent as he learns to know him.

He finds the outlaw comfortably laying on the bed with his back to the headboard. He's put the handcuffs back on himself, the long ones Mr. Novak insisted he had to wear despite his willingness to go to Contention, adding to Sam's guilt for submitting him to such a treatment on his sole behalf. But he doesn't seem to care at all, notebook in hand as he gives all his attention to sketching.

Sam settles on a padded chair next to the bed and gets his pocket watch out to monitor time. They can't miss the train, or all of this will have been for nothing. He just doesn't know how he'll be able to witness Dean climbing into the train to prison.

"What are you drawing ?" he can't help but asking after a long silence during which his eyes haven't left the man's gorgeous face and his many expressions.

"You," Dean simply replies.

"Show me ?"

Dean hesitates only a second before he offers the sketch for Sam's perusing and this is not the man he's become that Sam's eyes discover, but a much smaller figure, a child engrossed in a book who reminds him so much of himself, back in time, that Sam looks up to stare at Dean, breathless, his heart beating a wild staccato.



He stands up and approaches even more, hovering so close that he can read the heat and the question in Dean's eyes.

"Who are you ? Really ?"

Once again, hardly a second passes before Dean answers.

"Your big brother."

Something breaks in Sam. He doesn't question because he knows it's the truth. They don't look alike but this man has felt closer to him than anyone, even his own son, almost from the day they met less than half a week ago. They get each other. They know each other. Different, but tied.

His family is back. He's not alone anymore.

His mind takes a back seat as Sam lets his need lead him. He leans down to take Dean's mouth with his own, unsurprised when Dean opens up to welcome him in, tongues battling for dominance. Sam's desire renders him putty in his brother's hands, and it's only natural progression when he climbs on the bed to sit on Dean's lap, his own bent legs tucked on each side of his brother's hips.

His brother. He's gonna use that word a lot in the near future.

They kiss, and they kiss again, feverish and needy. Sam feels strong hands roaming on his whole back and he's glad he didn't go for the short manacles, that Dean is able to touch him almost at will and they can easily forget the long chain holding his wrists together. He feels it even more when Dean rucks up Sam's shirt and his calloused hands begin to map his very skin. He's so heated by the touch that he fumbles with his shirt until he can take it off.

Immediately, Dean's fingers land on his nipples, playing with them until they feel raw and Sam thinks he will get crazy from the pleasure. The chain sliding on his skin is just as maddening, kinky reminder of the laws they're breaking together. His dick is standing at attention, ready to shoot like never before it seems, but he wants more.

Dean gives it to him when he unbuttons his trousers to hold his cock. Sam keens, ruts, pushes down and up to further the freaking friction, but Dean has his own agenda.

"Take it off," he orders, and Sam needs nothing more to understand that Dean wants him naked.

Which is utterly unfair, seeing as Sam only gets access so far to his brother's chest, but it's also the most erotic thing someone ever wanted from him. He takes everything off, ignoring the stump no one else than him and his doctors have ever seen so clearly, and all he finds in Dean's eyes is the heated desire that makes him want to give himself entirely to the other man. His big brother, who remembered him and found him, who deserves all his love and loyalty.

He stands at the footboard, heated and shy under that fierce gaze that warms places inside of him he doesn't even remember knowing could feel that way, until Dean wants more.

"Come here," he says, his voice a beacon Sam follows at once.

He gets on the bed again and crawls on his knees until he's sitting anew in his brother's lap.

Immediately, Dean's hands are on him, mapping his skin. Everywhere, they stroke and burn. They make love to his buttocks while Sam fights with Dean's belt and his pants' buttons to free the erection he feels straining against the confining cloth.

When he's done, the decision of what to do with it is taken away by Dean urging him into another long kiss, so it's his hands that get to introduce him for what he hopes to be a lengthy relationship.

"I want you, want to feel you in me," Sam murmurs in Dean's mouth before he plunges his tongue back in, giving into the first real hunger he's felt for years, picky eater that he is.

There's no need for more incentive. Dean's hands, currently occupied with Sam's cock and balls, go back to his ass cheeks and spread them to uncover his hole. They caress it for some time, increasing Sam's impatience to get there, wherever there might be.

He's outraged when he feels one of the hands leaving him, arm outstretched towards the bedside table, to rummage through a drawer. Until he remembers they are in the bridal suite - and in the end, isn't that incredibly telling ? - and there's indeed a good chance that the special guests be provided with essentials, courtesy of the hotel manager.

And yes, here it is, a jar of Vaseline that's going to come in handy.

He's never done this, but spending a few years in an orphanage offered him a crash course into a very large array of sexual habits and techniques. Fortunately, he never had to fight the older boys' unwelcome interests, but the promiscuity often put him where he didn't want to be and made of him a privileged witness to his comrades' fucking prowess.

So, a virgin he might be to this kind of love, but he knows what he wants, knows how to get it and stands pretty confident that both of them will get the utmost pleasure from the act.

He guides Dean's hand to his hole, selects his middle finger coated with lubricant and pushes it inside him. As his body slowly opens up to let Dean in, the feeling overwhelms Sam, head thrown back and eyes shutting on their own volition. Two fingers and he's beyond restless, ready to give himself entirely to Dean who's busy multitasking, biting at his throat and finger-fucking him. Three fingers signal the moment he's gonna lose it if Dean doesn't take the next step.

He stops stroking Dean's cock only to show it the way to his asshole. It's so much more and bigger and harder… so much everything he can't seem to make a sensible whole of anything, the painful pleasure, the fullness bordering on too much that he misses as soon as Dean's almost out of him, the rhythm that he might control but yet here he is, still unable to decide on slow or fast, wanting each at once.

Dean lets him find the answers to his needs, assists him every time he feels Sam might be close to toppling over. He's so attuned to Sam's desire Sam worries about not giving him back what he deserves. But his expressive face speaks for the pleasure engulfing Dean too, and they're in sync in this just like they've been these last days, fighting monsters and demons.

It's a long time before Sam realizes he's the one moaning more loudly with each second because of Dean's caresses over his cock, the thumb pushing gently if insistently against the head, a maddening touch that has no equal but the also-insistent one over his rim. Dean circles it, at times entering Sam along his own cock, one, two fingers that make Sam come with a cry and a lightning of pleasure throughout his whole body.

He's done, so heavy he can hardly push himself up to go with Dean's desperate push in. And he needs it, the feeling of Dean's come making him his, the reminder that they are back together and nothing will come between them now. Dean's own muffled cry in Sam's neck is the prelude to the marking he craves, Dean shooting high inside him while Sam absently rubs the semen he shot earlier into Dean's skin.

The link has been reestablished. He can succumb for the few next moments to the lethargy taking him.

He wakes up to find Dean watching him and playing with his amulet, opened to watch the photograph inside.

"It's the last thing I have from my family," he says, voice rough. "Tell me I wasn't wrong to think it's us, you and me, and Dad and Mom."

Dean smiles, lost in memories.

"You weren't. Don't know how you found it, but you had offered the pendant to me for my birthday, and then the first time Dad took me with him on a hunt and you were left behind - you were just a little more than five, not that long ago before Dad gave you up - I put the photograph in and left it with you for safe-keeping. Said that as long as you'd hang tight on it, I was safe and I would always come back to you. It became our thing."

They watch each other after that, thinking of all those years spent apart until they finally found their way back.

Dean leans down and kisses Sam so gently it's like the wings of a butterfly brushing against his mouth. Sam opens up and welcomes Dean in, kissing him as if he has to make up right now for all the years they missed. Dean's right hand is busy playing with Sam's nipples, raising them into tight little nub of bliss in a way he had never known before.

Dean's lips seem intent on mapping his whole body now that they're not in the same hurry as the first time. Just like they did with Sam's mouth, they kiss and open to let Dean's tongue come out and play, tasting Sam's skin, and it feels so good Sam doesn't immediately realize where Dean's headed.

It's only when hands and mouth come down on the remains of his foot that Sam tenses. He's overwhelmed by the contradictory emotions swirling inside of him, the shame and the pleasure, unmanned by Dean's careful reverence, as if his scarred stump is a thing of beauty to be revered and worshipped.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there to take care of you," Dean murmurs against the sole of his foot, what's left of it anyway.

"There was nothing you could have done about this. The war ruled everybody's lives. So many men didn't come back, I'm at least lucky to be alive."

"I guess, but I should have been there for you before, all along, especially when you were growing up, and I let you down."

It's a heady feeling to realize that Dean and he are of the same mind on this and both put each other before anyone else. He should feel guilty as hell for cheating on his wife, even though she was the first one to do it, but he doesn't. At all. On the contrary, it feels like he always belonged to Dean first, and somehow cheated on him by marrying Madison. He will never regret it, because Junior is the best thing that could happen to them, but his wife feels more than ever like the fifth wheel in Sam's relationships.

Dean comes back to Sam's cock, managing to get him hard again surprisingly quickly by licking and sucking with an experienced talent Sam is eager to copy. He comes just as fast, two of Dean's fingers massaging his pleasure spot deep inside him. His hole aches a bit, but it's a good ache, the kind that keeps you on your toes, alert and impatient.

Later, they kiss some more, and then Dean cleans them up before they put an end to this moment in time that Sam hopes will cement their future relationship, once they're far from Contention and Dean's certitude of being able to get off the train before it gets to Yuma has become a truth.



Masterpost | Part 4