SPN FIC - It takes a town - Part II
**see previous part for headers**
PART II
Once upon a time a handsome young man name Jack O'Malley sailed from Ireland for America to escape the poverty of his homeland and make his fortune. On the streets of New York the teenager learned how to fight and steal. Under the tutelage of one of the city's most famous con-artists the street rat learned to manipulate. In the bed of one of the nation's wealthiest socialites he learned that it was very easy to sleep your way to the top. He ended up marrying her despite being 10 years her junior and when she died in a tragic - some say suspicious accident - he dropped his obvious Irish surname for a more subtle one and used his inheritance to set out on his quest to conquer the world.
A group of his New York business associates had been planning to run rails through a small town outside of Lawrence, Kansas, the plan was to connect the scattered and somewhat isolated towns of the plains by railroad and create a commercial center of sorts in a newly-founded town called Bedford. Dennison's advisers loved the plans and urged him to buy the company and take over the entire project. Dennison agreed and sent his people to Kansas to secure the necessary parcels of land and parlay with the local officials. But he hadn't counted on the locals being vehemently opposed to the idea of a railroad disrupting their quiet and peaceful towns. Some bullshit about escaping Lawrence after Quantrill's infamous raids and starting over there, away from the corruption of city life and the memories of the death and destruction of the war between the states. Enraged, Dennison told his people to use any means necessary to reach their goals, as long as none of it could be traced back to him. Despite his strong-arm tactics and threats, not one resident of Bedford and very few folks from the smaller surrounding towns were willing to sell their land to Dennison and the project quickly fell through, leaving Jack Dennison out of a sizable amount of money and stuck with some mostly worthless farmland.
Nobody could ever prove that his hired men had started the fire that had taken the lives of the Sheriff and his young wife but it was an eerie coincidence that the late John Winchester had been Dennison's most vocal opponent. An inquiry had been held and witnesses testified and documents were scrutinized but there was not one piece of solid evidence to prove that Jack Dennison had been responsible for orphaning Sam and Dean Winchester. When the inquiry was over, Jack Dennison went back to New York and never stepped foot in the state of Kansas again. Why he appeared in Lawrence 10 years after the tragedy was a mystery to everyone who remembered the dark days the surrounded the fire at the Winchester farm.
Deputy Sam Winchester was not a man who liked an unsolved mystery so he sent off a string of telegrams to various acquaintances, including his former wife with whom he surprisingly still maintained a deep friendship, asking for any news about Dennison back East that hadn't reached their sleepy little town. Sam received a few replies with vague references to money troubles but was shocked when just three days after his telegram he received a package by special courier from Miss Jessica Moore, formerly Winchester, of Boston Massachusetts, filled with newspaper clippings. It seems as if the Bedford deal was just the first of many business deals gone sour for Jack Dennison and he appeared to be officially bankrupt. Sam immediately sent a reply with his heartfelt thanks to Jess, the letter including his standard subtle hints about how much he missed her that he knew would fall on deaf ears regardless.
Sam looked up from where he was sitting at Dean's tiny dining table over to where his brother was sleeping on his narrow bed in the corner. As he'd predicted the shallow wound on Dean's thigh had gotten infected and he'd been confined to bed by fever and weakness as well as threats from Ellen and Bobby and a little laudanum laced tea that Sam simply did not feel guilty about. Dean never took care of himself. He'd spent most of his life looking after the ranch and their Mom and Sam while his Dad did his job and later dedicated his every waking moment to making sure that his little brother was safe and wanted for nothing. It wasn't as if Sam wasn't grateful because he was. Dean was his hero, the person he could always count on, always looked up to but it pissed him off that Dean never bothered to worry about himself as well, never seemed to think that his happiness and his well being were important. Seeing him taken down by such a simple injury was just more proof of how little he cared about his own welfare.
Fortunately for Sam and Bobby and the deputized townsfolk things had been quiet in Bedford after Dean's shooting and the vandalism but Sam couldn't help but think about the old adage 'quiet before the storm' and hoped his brother would be up and about in a day or two. Except of course for the fact that Dean being poorly had schoolteacher Lisa Braeden visiting the jailhouse on a daily basis, which in Sam's mind could only be a good thing. His brother deserved to be happy, and intelligent, strong women like Lisa were far and few in the tiny town of Bedford.
“If I find out you drugged me I'll throw you in jail for assault on an officer of the law,” Dean warned,obviously grumpy, his voice scratchy with sleep.
“Yeah, and when the circuit judge comes to try me I'll tell him you were unfit for duty and unlawfully jailed an innocent citizen,” Sam replied with a wicked smile. “You'd better not get out of that bed today or I'll hog tie you.”
“You might be bigger than I am but I can still whip your scrawny ass, Sam Winchester,” Dean said with no real heat in his tone. “Now tell me what's been going on.”
“I sent out some inquiries about Dennison and I got some very interesting information back.”
Dean sat up gingerly and leaned back against the wall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “From who?”
“From Jess,” Sam replied evenly.
Dean raised one brow but said nothing, waiting for Sam to continue.
“And I think I've got a theory as to what's going on here. Dennison is flat broke aside from the land he owns here in Kansas according to these newspaper articles. Either he's come back to try and revive his original project for the railroad, which would explain the mysterious attacks on the town, you know, try and scare people into selling or leaving. Or maybe he's come to sell his land since it's all he has left and everything else is just a coincidence.”
“Sammy, since when is anything just a coincidence?” Dean asked grimly. “Alright, this is what we need to do. Someone has to ride into Lawrence and give a report to the Marshal's Service about the attacks and the shooting and subtly suggest that Jack Dennison's appearance at the same time might be suspicious so that we can justify asking them for their help. I doubt we'll have trouble getting them to side with us, not many people have forgotten him in this state.”
“And in the meanwhile?” Sam asked.
“Same as what we've been doing, double up the patrols, keep the curfew, stay alert and hope the Marshall's service will conduct an investigation of their own and send us some men as well. Short of riding into Lawrence, tracking him down and putting a bullet I him I can't see what else we can do.”
“Dean, I think I should be the one to go to Lawrence.”
“Over my dead body, kid. I'm sending Pastor Jim and the subject is not open to discussion,” Dean said firmly. “Now, unless you have anything else to tell me, I'm gonna have a bath and something to eat and if you dare drug me again I'll kick your ass all the way to California!”
* * * * *
Pastor Jim Murphy, with Wayne Babbit at his side, took the stagecoach to Lawrence bright and early the next day. By evening they'd returned and Dean wasn't surprised by what the two men had to report. It appeared as if Jack Dennison hadn't only been causing trouble in Bedford but in neighboring towns as well. As Sam had speculated, Dennison had returned to Kansas not to sell his assets but to try and find investors and buy more land to revive his railroad project. When his project had once again been shot down by the towns around Lawrence it appeared as if he'd turned to mischief and violence to try and persuade town councils to agree and landowners to sell. The problem was that all the evidence was circumstantial since no one had been actually caught and nothing could lead directly back to Dennison. The Marshal though firmly suggested to Jack Dennison that be sell his land in Kansas and leave the state because there was no way anyone would be doing business with him. And it was Dennison's reply that left Dean feeling surprisingly sick to his stomach instead of relieved. The con man actually told the Marshal that he'd be leaving Lawrence for good within a few days.
“We all know that's not going to happen, please tell me that Marshall Goode didn't actually believe him?” he asked the Pastor across their table at the hotel where he and Sam were having supper with Jim and Wayne.
“No, but he did say that he'd give him a few days to clear out before taking any other steps. He promised he'd be watching him and his 'employees' round the clock, though.”
Dean pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. He saw Sam about to open his mouth to protest again about Dean not eating - there'd been a lot of arguing about that since Dean had been shot - but he silenced his brother with a withering look.
“I guess the only thing to do is to continue the patrols, keep up the curfew and wait to hear from the Marshal,” Dean said. He was frustrated and angry but he knew that there was nothing - nothing within the limits of the law that is - that he could do aside from try his best to protect his town and wait.
“There's one more thing, boys,” Wayne said nervously, his eyes darting back and forth between the Winchesters.
“Just say it, Wayne,” Sam said, impatient.
Wayne literally wrung his hands like an old woman. “Marshall Goode told me that he heard talk in the city, drunken whispers mostly, Dennison's men saying that you boys would get what was coming to you like your Daddy did.”
“Just us? Five towns want him gone from Kansas, why us?” Dean asked carefully.
“Because he claims it was your Daddy who ruined him, that if his project had gone through ten years ago he wouldn't be bankrupt today.”
“Is that so? Well he can try, better men than him have,” Dean said and turned his attention to Sam. “You, little brother are going on a trip East, so go home and pack your bags.”
“East?” Sam asked, shocked. “For what?”
“To visit your old school friends, I'm sure they miss your scrawny ass.”
Sam's expression was incredulous. “Your kidding, right? Your planning on sending me away like some school boy and let you face Dennison on your own? Have you finally lost your mind?|”
“Sam...”
Sam pushed his chair back and stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table. “When you come to your senses, come find me at the house,” Sam said, his fury barely controlled and he stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door behind him.
“Dean, he's no longer a wide-eyed teenager, son, you can't treat him like one,” Pastor Jim said softly. “He's proved himself a hundred times over, suggesting he go away to be out of harm's way is insulting.”
“Pastor, stay out of it please, he's my brother and he's all I've...” Dean began to say but he stopped himself, realizing that he'd unwittingly laid himself bare in front of Pastor Jim and Wayne. Dean had hiding his emotions down to an art form and despite the fact that both men were like family he did not want to show even the barest hint of weakness in front of them. He was the Sheriff, people depended on him being reasonable and logical and he knew that when it came to Sam he could easily lose his carefully constructed control.
Wayne cleared his throat and stood, making awkward excuses about things to do elsewhere.
“Supper's on me, I'll see you both tomorrow,” the shopkeeper said and hurried away, leaving the two men to finish their conversation in private.
“Dean, he's your brother and you love him and that's commendable but sending him away during a crisis would undermine his authority as an officer of the law. Besides, this conversation is pointless because that boy would never leave his duty, but I think you should go over to his house, your house, and talk to him.
Dean flipped open his watch. “Can't, Doc's waitin' on me at the jailhouse, I'll talk to him in the morning, first thing, I promise.”
“I'm holding you to that, Dean,” the Pastor said as Maybelle their waitress refilled his coffee.
Dean said a quick goodnight to the Pastor and his fellow patrons and headed towards the jailhouse. It was chilly for the season and Dean closed a button or two on his jacket as he passed the town's businesses. It was coming up on curfew time and the normally busy main street was eerily quiet. Inside the jailhouse Bobby was making a fresh pot of coffee and Dean accepted a cup gratefully and filled in the Doc on the details of his meeting with Wayne and Pastor Jim.
“I hope you two idjits are taking these threats seriously,” Bobby said sternly..
“I am, but I'm not sure Sam is all that worried, I think he'd like to see Dennison try so that he can shoot him in 'self-defense',” Dean said, exasperated.
“Well most likely it'll be his hired guns if anyone tries anything on you anyway, I doubt that bastard would dirty his hands. We gotta warn everyone to keep a look out for strangers or suspicious activity.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, tiredly.
“How're you feeling, by the way? You look wrecked, kid,” Bobby said, his expression concerned.
“Oh. not you too, Bobby! I'm fine, no pain, no fever, I feel good as new,” Dean told him but he couldn't hide the wince when he rose from his chair.
“Yeah, I can see how great you're feeling,” the Doc said sarcastically, watching Dean move stiffly around the jailhouse while the Sheriff did his nightly check of the windows and doors.
“Go home and go to sleep, Bobby, you're supposed to be here at 9 am sharp tomorrow, and your age you need all the beauty sleep you can get.”
“I can't even bother with a comeback, kid, I'm too worried about the pair of you. Maybe Sam should come and stay here tonight so you can have each others backs.”
Dean shook his head and sat down at his desk. “Sam's not exactly talking to me. But don't worry, I've got Cal, Ed and Jimmy patrolling Main Street till dawn, they know to check on Sam's place as well.”
Bobby nodded and put on his hat and coat. “Make sure you fix things up with your brother, boy, he gets all ornery when you two are fighting and it's annoying for the rest of us.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, noncommittally, reaching for the log book to get some work done. What Dean didn't know though was that due to a series of insignificant events he wouldn't see his brother the next day at all, not even at shift changes or even by chance in the street and when he would finally see him nearly 36 hours later it would be under circumstances that he could have never foreseen.
* * * * *
The day that Jessica Winchester, nee Moore left Bedford - and his brother - was one of the worst days of the Sheriff's life. To say that he'd been shocked would be an understatement, he simply had no idea that his brother and Jess were having problems, let alone considering ending their marriage. Even more shocking were the reasons that she was leaving. Their awkward, no cringe-worthy conversation had gone something like this;
“I'm not even going to say that it's over, Dean, since I feel like I've never really had Sam to myself,” Jess told him pointedly.
Stunned, Dean balked. “I hardly ever even come over, and I never keep Sam at work past supper or on holidays, never intrude on the two of you unless it's absolutely necessary!”
Jess crossed her arms. “And doesn't that seem weird to you, Dean? You, going out of your way to not come between us, as if your mere presence could actually achieve that? Come on, Dean, you know what I'm talking about, it's this complicated thing that you and Sam have, this strange compulsion to make sure the other one is happy and safe, to obsess over each others welfare, it's not normal and it's not healthy and frankly I've had enough of it.”
“Jess, I'm sorry, what'll it take to get you to change your mind? Sam loves you, you're his whole world!”
Jess picked up her traveling case in one hand and placed her other on Dean's arm. “No Dean, you're his whole world, and he's yours,” she said sadly. “I don't know what it was like to lose your parents and I can't imagine how hard it must have been for the two of you to be on your own like that. I know that it's probably the reason why you two worry about each other so much though and I understand it, to a degree. But when every other word out of Sam's mouth at dinner is Dean and every decision we make needs your stamp of approval I really hope you'll see this from my side.”
Dean took a deep breath and grasped Jess' hand tight. “I'll leave Bedford, maybe if we put some distance between us Sam will feel more independent...”
“Leave your home and your job and all your friends? Besides, you and Sam had thousands of miles between you while he was away at college, it didn't change anything, he still wanted to come back here to be with you.”
“Please Jess, he loves you, it'll break his heart if you leave him, he'll be devastated...”
Jess pulled her hand out of Dean's grasp and cupped his cheek tenderly. “You'll be there to pick up the pieces,” she said simply and then was gone.
The memory of that day had been haunting him for the past couple of weeks, ever since Lisa said something similar that night he 'd gotten drunk and broken into her house. Nobody had ever said anything like that to them before Jess pointed it out, not even Bobby or Ellen who knew them so well but then again Dean doubted that anyone aside from someone with whom they were in an intimate relationship would notice how close they were. Dean had never thought it was odd before, he'd saved his teenage brother from their burning home and in that instant become mother, father and guardian in rolled into one. It was his job to take care of him, worry about him, try and give him the best of everything. If Sam had a slight case of hero-worship as a result Dean had never really given it much thought. The fact that their closeness seemed to be wrecking their personal relationships was alarming to say the least, and Dean wasn't sure what either of them could do about it.
The sound of the jailhouse door opening shook Dean out of his memories and he was instantly on his feet when he saw the state of Pastor Jim. Blood trickled from a wound on his temple and his collar was stained red. At once, Dean had one of his peacemakers out of it's holster.
“What happened?”
“Armed men, just rode into town, one of them attacked me and Sam tired to stop them! Dean, they shot him, they shot Sam! ”
They shot Sam.
He could have said that war had been declared or that a twister was coming but neither would have put the same terror in his heart as those three words.
“How bad?' Dean growled, handing the Pastor a shot gun and some shot.
“I don't know, he's not moving. They just rode right into town, Dennison at the lead. Sam and I were outside the schoolhouse, he was helping me carry some books inside and one of them came right at us, kicked me and Sam intervened they shot him. Doc and some of the others were at Harvelle's and heard the commotion and now there's a stand-off, those thugs are standing in the middle of the street, their guns trained on everyone. I don't know...” the older man croaked panicked.
“Follow me,” Dean barked and they headed out the back way, moving stealthily down Main Street from behind the long row of shops until they reached the Hotel and could get a look at what's happening around the schoolhouse. It was like the Pastor said; Sam was lying in the street face down and at least two dozen armed men had guns trained on everyone around them. It took every ounce of Dean's self control not to walk out there, guns blazing and try to kill everyone one of the bastards that dared hurt his brother.
“Dean, Lisa and the children are inside...”
“Stay here and keep yourself hidden. If a gunfight starts up do what you have to do, Pastor, call up your hunting skills, the Lord will forgive you, I swear on it,” Dean told him urgently and before the Pastor could stop him, Dean re-holstered his gun and raised his hands high.
“I'm Sheriff Winchester,” Dean called out, walking slowly around the hotel, “and I'm just coming out to talk, so keep your guns down.” Dean knew that he could very easily be dead in a heartbeat but they were trapped like animals and there were kids in the school.
Nobody moved or made a sound while Dean made his way out into the street but Dean caught the furious look on the Doc's face when he came around the building and he pointedly ignored him. All his deputies had their own guns pointed at the outlaws in a potentially deadly standoff.
“Dennison,” Dean said slowly, walking towards the man who'd destroyed his family, hands still raised high. “There's kids in there, surely even you wouldn't want to shoot any kids, would you?”
“No kids, Winchester, you and your brother will do just fine,” he said, aimed his pistol at Dean and fired and just like that all hell broke loose
Dean felt something hot puncture his side and he tumbled backwards, rolling away and struggling to get his guns un-holstered. All around him there was gunfire and and chaos and the cries of men being hit and Pastor Jim, God bless him was picking off Dennison's men like sitting ducks from where he was hidden, Dean finally got to one knee, his Peacmakers hitting their marks with deadly precision. Doc and his deputies had mostly managed to take cover and were holding their own as Dean struggled to his feet and made his way towards the barrels where he'd seen Dennison turn tail and run for cover.
Some of Dennison's hired men apparently seemed to realize that they were outnumbered, especially as more and more townsfolk heard the fuss and poured into the streets with their hunting rifles and shotguns, and as soon as it had begun the gunfight ended with the outlaws who were still standing dropping their weapons and falling to their knees, hand high in surrender. Enraged by their cowardice, Dennison left his hiding place screaming and cursing and waving his weapon, only to come face to face with Dean Winchester.
“It's over, Dennison, drop your gun and you'll get a fair trial,” Dean told him, his voice deadly calm. Blood dripped steadily from the wound in his side but Dean ignored it, his focus solely on the man standing in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to pump the bastard full of iron but Dean was a man of the law and he'd sworn an oath to uphold it despite what that man had done to his family.
“You ruined me, just like your son of a bitch father did the first time around!” the older man screamed, spittle flying from his mouth, his eyes crazed. “I'm gonna kill you like I did your parents and your stupid little brother, I'm going to watch you bleed to death on the very streets where you played as a boy, I swear it you bastard, I'm going to...”
That was all Dennison got to say because at that moment Wayne Babbit sneaked out of Harvelle's and hit him over the head with Cal the bartender's 'peacekeeping' club, sending the con man sprawling face first into the dirt.
There was a moment of stunned silence and then loud applause filled the streets and people cheered, the deputies rushing forward to secure the hired outlaws and parents rushed over to the schoolhouse to check on their children. Dean ignored it all, turning his back on Dennison and leaving everything to the townsfolk and to Bobby to deal with as moved as fast as his injured side would allow to where Pastor Jim knelt beside his brother.
“Dean!”
The warning came a fraction of a second too late and Dean felt the sharp sting of metal entering flesh, saw the soft spray of blood in the air, his knees buckling sending him lurching forward. In his mind, he thought he heard the crack of a rifle, heard Bobby call out his name again, felt steady hands catch him before he hit the dirt..
Around him, there was chaos, a blur of sounds and shadows that wouldn’t focus, and then there was Sam, his bloodied face the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and Dean smiled, lifting one hand to touch his cheek, his trembling fingers wiping the tears that fell, smoothing away the sorrow on his little brother’s face.
“Sammy,” Dean said softly, the name coming out like a sigh.
“I gotcha, Dean, you’re ok…you’re gonna be just fine.”
“I thought he’d killed you…”
“Well lucky for us Dennison's a crap shot,” Sam said, struggling to smile, tears and blood and dirt streaking his pale face.
“Thank God for that,” Dean slurred through his veil of pain. The wound in his side throbbed, but the bullet he took in the back was like fire and ice and Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Is he dead?”
“Sure is, Bobby sent him straight to hell where he belongs.”
“Yeah…” Dean breathed, sagging forward against Sam, his brother’s grip on his shoulders instantly tightening.
“Hey, Dean, hey,” Sam said, his voice urgent, “Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me now, gotta help me get you over to Doc’s and I’ll be damned if I’ll be carrying your lazy ass…”
“Ok, Sammy,” Dean whispered, forcing his eyes open. “Oh God, the kids, Lisa, is everyone ok?” Dean asked abruptly, remembering, fear pulling him back from the edge.
“Everyone's fine, Dean, nothing to worry about,” Sam told him, crying in earnest then, strong arms wrapping around Dean in a surprisingly gentle embrace.
“That’s good, Sammy, we did good,” Dean whispered against Sam’s shoulder, spent. “Shit, Ellen's gonna kill us when she sees the pair of us,” Dean said, his words slipping and sliding into each other, all the air gone from his lungs.
“Yeah, she'll be furious” Sam said tearfully, one hand sliding to the nape of Dean’s neck, cradling his head. “You just hold on now, big brother. Bobby’ll patch you up right as rain and we’ll go home and face her together, alright?”
Dean tried to respond, wanted more than anything to tell Sam not to worry, that everything was going to be alright, that nothing could hurt them anymore. There were a million things he needed to say to Sam, things that his brother already knew but that Dean wanted to tell him anyway. He felt boneless, too weak to even hold his head up, too tired to get the words out. Through the hazy mist that settled around him he felt someone, maybe Bobby, try to take him from Sam, heard his brother sobbing like his heart was breaking, felt his pulse slow till the blood in his veins felt thicker than molasses.
When the darkness came, Dean let out a weary sigh and embraced it like an old friend.
* * * * *
“What if he dies, Bobby?”
Bobby gave Sam a look that he couldn't decipher and then the Doc looked over to where Dean was sleeping fitfully in Sam's bed.
“Cause if he dies, I don't know what I'll do, I just...”
“Enough, Sam,” Bobby said, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You two are gonna be doing this till you're eighty, wondering what the other will do if he's left behind, aren't you? 'Cause kid I gotta tell you it ain't normal. This is life, we're born, we live and we die and there's nothing to be done about it, a man would think that you'dve learned that at your fancy college.”
Sam rubbed his hands over his face, wincing as his fingers skimmed over the wound at his hairline where Dennison's bullet had grazed him and knocked him out cold. “It's just that he's all I've got, Bobby.”
“No, he isn't, Sam,” the Doc told him gently. “You've got me, and Ellen and Jo and Jim and Wayne and Janice...should I go on and list the whole town? And you've got your job and your responsibilities to the town council and the school board and the church. Dean is a part of your life, not the center of it. I've watched you two trip over yourselves to please each other your entire lives and I should have said something earlier but the pair of you are stubborn idjits. You can have your own life and still have Dean in it and vice-versa.”
Sam's gaze went back to his brother, the sight of blood stained bandages on his shoulder and his side sickening. Dean had been lucky; the shot he'd taken in his back was high and through and through, thankfully missing anything vital. The wound in his side was also for the most part superficial but he'd lost a lot of blood and was already compromised from his previous leg wound so it wasn't surprising that infection had set it an once no matter how well tended the wounds were. Bobby wasn't making any promises and that scared Sam even more.
“He's my brother, Bobby, the only remaining flesh and blood family that I have, and he's done so much for me, I just feel like I'd be lost without him, you know?”
Ellen chose that minute to come into Sam's bedroom with clean bandages and a basin of warm water and Sam abruptly rose, unable to watch as Doc cleaned up Dean's wounds again. He mumbled his apologies and swiftly made his way down the stairs and out to the front porch, deciding to go over to the jailhouse to check on things. Fortunately the Marshall had shown up within hours of Pastor Jim's urgent telegram and rounded up Dennison's hired men, alive and dead, including the body of the devil himself. Sam had given a brief statement, followed by Wayne, Jim, Peter Tanner, Ed Sawyer and a whole bunch of other furious townsfolk. Now, three days later, everyone's fury had turned to grief because they all feared the worst for Dean. Ellen and Janice Babbit had made gently sending away well-wishers a full time job but they still kept showing up at Sam's house with food, offers of help with the Sheriff's care and words of praise for Sam's bravery and courage. If he heard one more old lady laud him for carrying his unconscious brother down Main Street while injured himself he thought he might break something.
The fact that every trace of Dennison was gone from town was a huge relief to everyone. Aside from a few superficial wounds, Dean's deputies had mostly made it through the gunfight unhurt, thanks to Pastor Jim and his surprising sniper skills, but Sam knew how much that cost the man of God. Aside from the hours he spent sitting with Dean, Jim spent every waking moment in his church contemplating and praying, torturing himself over what he'd done despite the necessity of his actions. Sam knew that Jim would need their support in the coming weeks and he made a mental note to keep close tabs on their old family friend.
Sam found Cal in the jailhouse and sent the reserve deputy to get himself some dinner and he sat himself down at Dean's desk with a heavy heart. No matter if Dean lived, things would probably never be the same in Bedford, he thought sadly, the scars simply went too deep to forget the violence a second time.
“I haven't actually had a chance to thank you properly, Deputy,” Lisa said and Sam looked up, startled, he hadn't even heard the school teacher come in.
“Nothing to thank me more, Lisa, just doing my job,” he said kindly as she sat down across from him.
“Well you and Dean and Doc never only just do your job for this town and you know it,” she replied softly. “I just checked on Dean, he's still feverish, Bobby seems concerned.”
“Yeah, he won't make any promises, but hey, you know Dean, he's tougher than old leather, right?” Sam said, trying to convince himself as well as Lisa.
Lisa's mouth turned up into a small smile. “Yes, he is.”
“Can I ask you something, Lis? I mean at this point anything other than honesty would be stupid since Dean might not even live,” Sam said pointedly.
Lisa's smile faded. “What do you want to know, Sam?”
“Do you love my brother? And if you do is there something or maybe someone standing in the way of the two of you ever being together?” Sam asked earnestly, hoping that Lisa would do the right thing and open her heart to him.
Lisa leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath. “I fell in love with your brother when I was 16 or so, actually I might have even been younger, I don't remember,” she said quietly. “But then your parents died and Dean changed and I was just a girl, I wanted romance and a white wedding and a house with kids and Dean was instantly hardened by what had happened and full of ideas of revenge, he was just different.”
“And there was me.”
“And there was you,” Lisa admitted. “But that didn't bother me, you and I had grown up together, I loved you like a brother, I still do, but Dean wanted me to wait until you went away to college and he stopped courting me regularly and then my father died and I was alone. When Des came to town he swept me off my feet and offered me everything I'd dreamed of. Well, we all know how that turned out,” she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “When I took Ben and went East to go to college I decided that I had to learn to take care of myself and that's what I did. And your brother didn't try to stop me, which was actually a good thing because becoming a teacher was the best decision I've ever made.”
“And now? I mean Des is gone for good and I don't need taking care of anymore, so why do you keep turning him down, Lis?” Sam asked, confused.
“Sam, your brother is still the man he became when your parents died. He still puts his job and his responsibilities to the town...and to you first. I'll never be first for him and I know that and I've moved on. So if you're asking if this horrible tragedy has changed anything for me, then the answer is no. I still love your brother, I'm terrified for his welfare right now, but I do not want to marry him,” she told him firmly, despite the tears that welled up in her eyes.
“Did you know that Jess left me for more or less the same reasons? She said everything you just did but about me,” Sam told her, sharing the story with an outsider for the first time.
“I'd suspected. I know she told everyone that she couldn’t pursue her career in journalism in a tiny town like Bedford but I knew all of you well enough to think otherwise.”
“I just got a lecture from Bobby as well, told me I need to stop being so clingy,” he told her with a watery smile. “Well he didn't exactly say that but it's what he meant.”
“Think about it, Sam, just spend some time thinking about what you want and what Dean wants and talk to him, see if the two of you can find a way to adjust your priorities in a way that will make you both happier,” Lisa said, rising to go.
Sam stood up at once and opened the door for her. “You're a fine woman, Lisa, for Dean you'll always be the one that got away,” Sam told her, pressing a kiss to her smooth cheek.
“Maybe,” she said, stepping outside, “but then again maybe I was never what he really needed, I guess we'll never know.”
* * * * *
“You need a haircut.”
It was an old joke between them. Sam had a tendency to leave his hair overly long and often unruly and Dean's not so subtle suggestions that he looked like a hobo usually led to an argument that neither could win. But Dean said it to his brother on purpose, his own way of letting Sam know that he was doing better.
“You're mostly unconscious for the better part of the week, delirious with fever and the first rational thing you say to me is that I need a haircut?” Sam asked, grinning sleepily at Dean from where he'd been dozing in a chair beside him.
“Yeah, well it's the truth, and a shave too,” Dean told him, his voice raspy from sleep and disuse.
“You should get a look at yourself, big brother, you're on your way to a full beard.”
“Ugh, don't remind me, it's itchy as hell,” Dean griped, shutting his eyes against the sunlight that was pouring in between the open curtains. “Damn, I need to piss, you gotta bottle or something?”
“Gross, Dean, you'll have to wait for Bobby, he'll be back soon, I am not helping you take a piss in a bottle,” he told his brother firmly.
“Great, if I piss myself I'm telling Bobby to make you change the sheets.”
“You do that,” Sam said and sighed loudly.
Dean opened one eye and frowned. “What's with you? Am I gonna die or something?”
“No you ass, I'm just tired and relieved and waiting on you getting your butt out of that bed and back to work,” Sam told him. “And please no more talk of dying. Dennison is gone, everyone in town is mostly healed up and I just wanna forget everything. Maybe we should take a vacation, see the Grand Canyon or something,” Sam said hopefully.
“And leave Doc alone in charge? No thanks, I'll probably lose all my hair worrying anyway so what kind of a vacation would that be?”
“You see that's your problem, Dean, you think that this town can't survive without you, you're always putting Bedford and it's problems before yourself. No, this time, I'm putting my foot down. We're taking a vacation and we're gonna enjoy it!”
“And if I say no?” Dean asked, fidgeting, hoping Bobby and that bottle would get there quick.
“Then I'll hog-tie you and drag you, isn't that what you're always threatening to to to me when I don't follow your orders?” Sam stood up and let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, can you not argue with me this one time?”
“Ok, Sammy, we'll go to the Grand Canyon if it makes you happy,” Dean conceded.
“Not to make me happy, Dean, to make us both happy. Can't you just ever relax and enjoy yourself? Jesus, it's exhausting watching you try and control everything and take care of everyone, especially me. It has to stop, both of us, we just gotta stop trying to please each other and look out for each other all the time. I got more than one lecture about that while you were off in dreamland.”
“Sam...”
“Look it's too late for me and Jess and most likely for you and Lisa, hell I don't even know if either of us will ever get serious with anyone again. But we should at least try and live a little more, you know? This thing between us, this messed-up relationship we have, it's strange and it's complicated and sometimes I don't understand it myself but promise me, Dean, just promise me that at the very least we will stop being martyrs to this town and to each other and live like normal people who have fun and go on vacations now and again and who don't have to be within the same 50 miles of each other at all times in order to survive.”
“Wow, that's a lot of thinking you've been doing, Sam, hope you didn't hurt that big brain of yours,” Dean said, his heart suddenly racing oddly. Sam was right, everything he'd said was spot-on but Dean usually liked to steer-clear of the subject of their peculiar relationship, especially since it made him feel guilty as hell over Sam's divorce from Jess.
“Dean, quit joking, I'm serious, promise me!”
“Ok, ok, I promise, I'll have more fun, I'll even dance with Ellen and Janice at the next town social, how's that for having fun?”
“Dean...”
“I get it Sam, you're right. And since we've finally put this whole Dennison business behind us it'll probably be easier, you know?” Dean said, the fact that their parents had been avenged once and for all finally sinking in.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, sitting down beside Dean once more. “You really look like shit, Dean,” he said, “You need to take better care of yourself this time. I'm going to leave a few men on the payroll for another few weeks, just in case, to give you time to get back on your feet without worrying yourself bald.”
“I think losing my hair would be a bigger tragedy than me dying in a gunfight,” Dean joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Sam snorted. “Good to see that your ego is still intact.”
“Ok, enough chit-chat, go and find Bobby and that bottle or you'll regret it.”
“I'm on it. And Dean? I'm making travel plans, the Grand Canyon or bust, got that?”
Dean smiled, probably the first genuine smile he'd cracked since Sam had graduated from college actually, and he reached for his brother's hand, giving it a weak squeeze..
“Grand Canyon or bust, Sammy.”
fin
PART II
Once upon a time a handsome young man name Jack O'Malley sailed from Ireland for America to escape the poverty of his homeland and make his fortune. On the streets of New York the teenager learned how to fight and steal. Under the tutelage of one of the city's most famous con-artists the street rat learned to manipulate. In the bed of one of the nation's wealthiest socialites he learned that it was very easy to sleep your way to the top. He ended up marrying her despite being 10 years her junior and when she died in a tragic - some say suspicious accident - he dropped his obvious Irish surname for a more subtle one and used his inheritance to set out on his quest to conquer the world.
A group of his New York business associates had been planning to run rails through a small town outside of Lawrence, Kansas, the plan was to connect the scattered and somewhat isolated towns of the plains by railroad and create a commercial center of sorts in a newly-founded town called Bedford. Dennison's advisers loved the plans and urged him to buy the company and take over the entire project. Dennison agreed and sent his people to Kansas to secure the necessary parcels of land and parlay with the local officials. But he hadn't counted on the locals being vehemently opposed to the idea of a railroad disrupting their quiet and peaceful towns. Some bullshit about escaping Lawrence after Quantrill's infamous raids and starting over there, away from the corruption of city life and the memories of the death and destruction of the war between the states. Enraged, Dennison told his people to use any means necessary to reach their goals, as long as none of it could be traced back to him. Despite his strong-arm tactics and threats, not one resident of Bedford and very few folks from the smaller surrounding towns were willing to sell their land to Dennison and the project quickly fell through, leaving Jack Dennison out of a sizable amount of money and stuck with some mostly worthless farmland.
Nobody could ever prove that his hired men had started the fire that had taken the lives of the Sheriff and his young wife but it was an eerie coincidence that the late John Winchester had been Dennison's most vocal opponent. An inquiry had been held and witnesses testified and documents were scrutinized but there was not one piece of solid evidence to prove that Jack Dennison had been responsible for orphaning Sam and Dean Winchester. When the inquiry was over, Jack Dennison went back to New York and never stepped foot in the state of Kansas again. Why he appeared in Lawrence 10 years after the tragedy was a mystery to everyone who remembered the dark days the surrounded the fire at the Winchester farm.
Deputy Sam Winchester was not a man who liked an unsolved mystery so he sent off a string of telegrams to various acquaintances, including his former wife with whom he surprisingly still maintained a deep friendship, asking for any news about Dennison back East that hadn't reached their sleepy little town. Sam received a few replies with vague references to money troubles but was shocked when just three days after his telegram he received a package by special courier from Miss Jessica Moore, formerly Winchester, of Boston Massachusetts, filled with newspaper clippings. It seems as if the Bedford deal was just the first of many business deals gone sour for Jack Dennison and he appeared to be officially bankrupt. Sam immediately sent a reply with his heartfelt thanks to Jess, the letter including his standard subtle hints about how much he missed her that he knew would fall on deaf ears regardless.
Sam looked up from where he was sitting at Dean's tiny dining table over to where his brother was sleeping on his narrow bed in the corner. As he'd predicted the shallow wound on Dean's thigh had gotten infected and he'd been confined to bed by fever and weakness as well as threats from Ellen and Bobby and a little laudanum laced tea that Sam simply did not feel guilty about. Dean never took care of himself. He'd spent most of his life looking after the ranch and their Mom and Sam while his Dad did his job and later dedicated his every waking moment to making sure that his little brother was safe and wanted for nothing. It wasn't as if Sam wasn't grateful because he was. Dean was his hero, the person he could always count on, always looked up to but it pissed him off that Dean never bothered to worry about himself as well, never seemed to think that his happiness and his well being were important. Seeing him taken down by such a simple injury was just more proof of how little he cared about his own welfare.
Fortunately for Sam and Bobby and the deputized townsfolk things had been quiet in Bedford after Dean's shooting and the vandalism but Sam couldn't help but think about the old adage 'quiet before the storm' and hoped his brother would be up and about in a day or two. Except of course for the fact that Dean being poorly had schoolteacher Lisa Braeden visiting the jailhouse on a daily basis, which in Sam's mind could only be a good thing. His brother deserved to be happy, and intelligent, strong women like Lisa were far and few in the tiny town of Bedford.
“If I find out you drugged me I'll throw you in jail for assault on an officer of the law,” Dean warned,obviously grumpy, his voice scratchy with sleep.
“Yeah, and when the circuit judge comes to try me I'll tell him you were unfit for duty and unlawfully jailed an innocent citizen,” Sam replied with a wicked smile. “You'd better not get out of that bed today or I'll hog tie you.”
“You might be bigger than I am but I can still whip your scrawny ass, Sam Winchester,” Dean said with no real heat in his tone. “Now tell me what's been going on.”
“I sent out some inquiries about Dennison and I got some very interesting information back.”
Dean sat up gingerly and leaned back against the wall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “From who?”
“From Jess,” Sam replied evenly.
Dean raised one brow but said nothing, waiting for Sam to continue.
“And I think I've got a theory as to what's going on here. Dennison is flat broke aside from the land he owns here in Kansas according to these newspaper articles. Either he's come back to try and revive his original project for the railroad, which would explain the mysterious attacks on the town, you know, try and scare people into selling or leaving. Or maybe he's come to sell his land since it's all he has left and everything else is just a coincidence.”
“Sammy, since when is anything just a coincidence?” Dean asked grimly. “Alright, this is what we need to do. Someone has to ride into Lawrence and give a report to the Marshal's Service about the attacks and the shooting and subtly suggest that Jack Dennison's appearance at the same time might be suspicious so that we can justify asking them for their help. I doubt we'll have trouble getting them to side with us, not many people have forgotten him in this state.”
“And in the meanwhile?” Sam asked.
“Same as what we've been doing, double up the patrols, keep the curfew, stay alert and hope the Marshall's service will conduct an investigation of their own and send us some men as well. Short of riding into Lawrence, tracking him down and putting a bullet I him I can't see what else we can do.”
“Dean, I think I should be the one to go to Lawrence.”
“Over my dead body, kid. I'm sending Pastor Jim and the subject is not open to discussion,” Dean said firmly. “Now, unless you have anything else to tell me, I'm gonna have a bath and something to eat and if you dare drug me again I'll kick your ass all the way to California!”
* * * * *
Pastor Jim Murphy, with Wayne Babbit at his side, took the stagecoach to Lawrence bright and early the next day. By evening they'd returned and Dean wasn't surprised by what the two men had to report. It appeared as if Jack Dennison hadn't only been causing trouble in Bedford but in neighboring towns as well. As Sam had speculated, Dennison had returned to Kansas not to sell his assets but to try and find investors and buy more land to revive his railroad project. When his project had once again been shot down by the towns around Lawrence it appeared as if he'd turned to mischief and violence to try and persuade town councils to agree and landowners to sell. The problem was that all the evidence was circumstantial since no one had been actually caught and nothing could lead directly back to Dennison. The Marshal though firmly suggested to Jack Dennison that be sell his land in Kansas and leave the state because there was no way anyone would be doing business with him. And it was Dennison's reply that left Dean feeling surprisingly sick to his stomach instead of relieved. The con man actually told the Marshal that he'd be leaving Lawrence for good within a few days.
“We all know that's not going to happen, please tell me that Marshall Goode didn't actually believe him?” he asked the Pastor across their table at the hotel where he and Sam were having supper with Jim and Wayne.
“No, but he did say that he'd give him a few days to clear out before taking any other steps. He promised he'd be watching him and his 'employees' round the clock, though.”
Dean pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. He saw Sam about to open his mouth to protest again about Dean not eating - there'd been a lot of arguing about that since Dean had been shot - but he silenced his brother with a withering look.
“I guess the only thing to do is to continue the patrols, keep up the curfew and wait to hear from the Marshal,” Dean said. He was frustrated and angry but he knew that there was nothing - nothing within the limits of the law that is - that he could do aside from try his best to protect his town and wait.
“There's one more thing, boys,” Wayne said nervously, his eyes darting back and forth between the Winchesters.
“Just say it, Wayne,” Sam said, impatient.
Wayne literally wrung his hands like an old woman. “Marshall Goode told me that he heard talk in the city, drunken whispers mostly, Dennison's men saying that you boys would get what was coming to you like your Daddy did.”
“Just us? Five towns want him gone from Kansas, why us?” Dean asked carefully.
“Because he claims it was your Daddy who ruined him, that if his project had gone through ten years ago he wouldn't be bankrupt today.”
“Is that so? Well he can try, better men than him have,” Dean said and turned his attention to Sam. “You, little brother are going on a trip East, so go home and pack your bags.”
“East?” Sam asked, shocked. “For what?”
“To visit your old school friends, I'm sure they miss your scrawny ass.”
Sam's expression was incredulous. “Your kidding, right? Your planning on sending me away like some school boy and let you face Dennison on your own? Have you finally lost your mind?|”
“Sam...”
Sam pushed his chair back and stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table. “When you come to your senses, come find me at the house,” Sam said, his fury barely controlled and he stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door behind him.
“Dean, he's no longer a wide-eyed teenager, son, you can't treat him like one,” Pastor Jim said softly. “He's proved himself a hundred times over, suggesting he go away to be out of harm's way is insulting.”
“Pastor, stay out of it please, he's my brother and he's all I've...” Dean began to say but he stopped himself, realizing that he'd unwittingly laid himself bare in front of Pastor Jim and Wayne. Dean had hiding his emotions down to an art form and despite the fact that both men were like family he did not want to show even the barest hint of weakness in front of them. He was the Sheriff, people depended on him being reasonable and logical and he knew that when it came to Sam he could easily lose his carefully constructed control.
Wayne cleared his throat and stood, making awkward excuses about things to do elsewhere.
“Supper's on me, I'll see you both tomorrow,” the shopkeeper said and hurried away, leaving the two men to finish their conversation in private.
“Dean, he's your brother and you love him and that's commendable but sending him away during a crisis would undermine his authority as an officer of the law. Besides, this conversation is pointless because that boy would never leave his duty, but I think you should go over to his house, your house, and talk to him.
Dean flipped open his watch. “Can't, Doc's waitin' on me at the jailhouse, I'll talk to him in the morning, first thing, I promise.”
“I'm holding you to that, Dean,” the Pastor said as Maybelle their waitress refilled his coffee.
Dean said a quick goodnight to the Pastor and his fellow patrons and headed towards the jailhouse. It was chilly for the season and Dean closed a button or two on his jacket as he passed the town's businesses. It was coming up on curfew time and the normally busy main street was eerily quiet. Inside the jailhouse Bobby was making a fresh pot of coffee and Dean accepted a cup gratefully and filled in the Doc on the details of his meeting with Wayne and Pastor Jim.
“I hope you two idjits are taking these threats seriously,” Bobby said sternly..
“I am, but I'm not sure Sam is all that worried, I think he'd like to see Dennison try so that he can shoot him in 'self-defense',” Dean said, exasperated.
“Well most likely it'll be his hired guns if anyone tries anything on you anyway, I doubt that bastard would dirty his hands. We gotta warn everyone to keep a look out for strangers or suspicious activity.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, tiredly.
“How're you feeling, by the way? You look wrecked, kid,” Bobby said, his expression concerned.
“Oh. not you too, Bobby! I'm fine, no pain, no fever, I feel good as new,” Dean told him but he couldn't hide the wince when he rose from his chair.
“Yeah, I can see how great you're feeling,” the Doc said sarcastically, watching Dean move stiffly around the jailhouse while the Sheriff did his nightly check of the windows and doors.
“Go home and go to sleep, Bobby, you're supposed to be here at 9 am sharp tomorrow, and your age you need all the beauty sleep you can get.”
“I can't even bother with a comeback, kid, I'm too worried about the pair of you. Maybe Sam should come and stay here tonight so you can have each others backs.”
Dean shook his head and sat down at his desk. “Sam's not exactly talking to me. But don't worry, I've got Cal, Ed and Jimmy patrolling Main Street till dawn, they know to check on Sam's place as well.”
Bobby nodded and put on his hat and coat. “Make sure you fix things up with your brother, boy, he gets all ornery when you two are fighting and it's annoying for the rest of us.”
“Yeah,” Dean said, noncommittally, reaching for the log book to get some work done. What Dean didn't know though was that due to a series of insignificant events he wouldn't see his brother the next day at all, not even at shift changes or even by chance in the street and when he would finally see him nearly 36 hours later it would be under circumstances that he could have never foreseen.
* * * * *
The day that Jessica Winchester, nee Moore left Bedford - and his brother - was one of the worst days of the Sheriff's life. To say that he'd been shocked would be an understatement, he simply had no idea that his brother and Jess were having problems, let alone considering ending their marriage. Even more shocking were the reasons that she was leaving. Their awkward, no cringe-worthy conversation had gone something like this;
“I'm not even going to say that it's over, Dean, since I feel like I've never really had Sam to myself,” Jess told him pointedly.
Stunned, Dean balked. “I hardly ever even come over, and I never keep Sam at work past supper or on holidays, never intrude on the two of you unless it's absolutely necessary!”
Jess crossed her arms. “And doesn't that seem weird to you, Dean? You, going out of your way to not come between us, as if your mere presence could actually achieve that? Come on, Dean, you know what I'm talking about, it's this complicated thing that you and Sam have, this strange compulsion to make sure the other one is happy and safe, to obsess over each others welfare, it's not normal and it's not healthy and frankly I've had enough of it.”
“Jess, I'm sorry, what'll it take to get you to change your mind? Sam loves you, you're his whole world!”
Jess picked up her traveling case in one hand and placed her other on Dean's arm. “No Dean, you're his whole world, and he's yours,” she said sadly. “I don't know what it was like to lose your parents and I can't imagine how hard it must have been for the two of you to be on your own like that. I know that it's probably the reason why you two worry about each other so much though and I understand it, to a degree. But when every other word out of Sam's mouth at dinner is Dean and every decision we make needs your stamp of approval I really hope you'll see this from my side.”
Dean took a deep breath and grasped Jess' hand tight. “I'll leave Bedford, maybe if we put some distance between us Sam will feel more independent...”
“Leave your home and your job and all your friends? Besides, you and Sam had thousands of miles between you while he was away at college, it didn't change anything, he still wanted to come back here to be with you.”
“Please Jess, he loves you, it'll break his heart if you leave him, he'll be devastated...”
Jess pulled her hand out of Dean's grasp and cupped his cheek tenderly. “You'll be there to pick up the pieces,” she said simply and then was gone.
The memory of that day had been haunting him for the past couple of weeks, ever since Lisa said something similar that night he 'd gotten drunk and broken into her house. Nobody had ever said anything like that to them before Jess pointed it out, not even Bobby or Ellen who knew them so well but then again Dean doubted that anyone aside from someone with whom they were in an intimate relationship would notice how close they were. Dean had never thought it was odd before, he'd saved his teenage brother from their burning home and in that instant become mother, father and guardian in rolled into one. It was his job to take care of him, worry about him, try and give him the best of everything. If Sam had a slight case of hero-worship as a result Dean had never really given it much thought. The fact that their closeness seemed to be wrecking their personal relationships was alarming to say the least, and Dean wasn't sure what either of them could do about it.
The sound of the jailhouse door opening shook Dean out of his memories and he was instantly on his feet when he saw the state of Pastor Jim. Blood trickled from a wound on his temple and his collar was stained red. At once, Dean had one of his peacemakers out of it's holster.
“What happened?”
“Armed men, just rode into town, one of them attacked me and Sam tired to stop them! Dean, they shot him, they shot Sam! ”
They shot Sam.
He could have said that war had been declared or that a twister was coming but neither would have put the same terror in his heart as those three words.
“How bad?' Dean growled, handing the Pastor a shot gun and some shot.
“I don't know, he's not moving. They just rode right into town, Dennison at the lead. Sam and I were outside the schoolhouse, he was helping me carry some books inside and one of them came right at us, kicked me and Sam intervened they shot him. Doc and some of the others were at Harvelle's and heard the commotion and now there's a stand-off, those thugs are standing in the middle of the street, their guns trained on everyone. I don't know...” the older man croaked panicked.
“Follow me,” Dean barked and they headed out the back way, moving stealthily down Main Street from behind the long row of shops until they reached the Hotel and could get a look at what's happening around the schoolhouse. It was like the Pastor said; Sam was lying in the street face down and at least two dozen armed men had guns trained on everyone around them. It took every ounce of Dean's self control not to walk out there, guns blazing and try to kill everyone one of the bastards that dared hurt his brother.
“Dean, Lisa and the children are inside...”
“Stay here and keep yourself hidden. If a gunfight starts up do what you have to do, Pastor, call up your hunting skills, the Lord will forgive you, I swear on it,” Dean told him urgently and before the Pastor could stop him, Dean re-holstered his gun and raised his hands high.
“I'm Sheriff Winchester,” Dean called out, walking slowly around the hotel, “and I'm just coming out to talk, so keep your guns down.” Dean knew that he could very easily be dead in a heartbeat but they were trapped like animals and there were kids in the school.
Nobody moved or made a sound while Dean made his way out into the street but Dean caught the furious look on the Doc's face when he came around the building and he pointedly ignored him. All his deputies had their own guns pointed at the outlaws in a potentially deadly standoff.
“Dennison,” Dean said slowly, walking towards the man who'd destroyed his family, hands still raised high. “There's kids in there, surely even you wouldn't want to shoot any kids, would you?”
“No kids, Winchester, you and your brother will do just fine,” he said, aimed his pistol at Dean and fired and just like that all hell broke loose
Dean felt something hot puncture his side and he tumbled backwards, rolling away and struggling to get his guns un-holstered. All around him there was gunfire and and chaos and the cries of men being hit and Pastor Jim, God bless him was picking off Dennison's men like sitting ducks from where he was hidden, Dean finally got to one knee, his Peacmakers hitting their marks with deadly precision. Doc and his deputies had mostly managed to take cover and were holding their own as Dean struggled to his feet and made his way towards the barrels where he'd seen Dennison turn tail and run for cover.
Some of Dennison's hired men apparently seemed to realize that they were outnumbered, especially as more and more townsfolk heard the fuss and poured into the streets with their hunting rifles and shotguns, and as soon as it had begun the gunfight ended with the outlaws who were still standing dropping their weapons and falling to their knees, hand high in surrender. Enraged by their cowardice, Dennison left his hiding place screaming and cursing and waving his weapon, only to come face to face with Dean Winchester.
“It's over, Dennison, drop your gun and you'll get a fair trial,” Dean told him, his voice deadly calm. Blood dripped steadily from the wound in his side but Dean ignored it, his focus solely on the man standing in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to pump the bastard full of iron but Dean was a man of the law and he'd sworn an oath to uphold it despite what that man had done to his family.
“You ruined me, just like your son of a bitch father did the first time around!” the older man screamed, spittle flying from his mouth, his eyes crazed. “I'm gonna kill you like I did your parents and your stupid little brother, I'm going to watch you bleed to death on the very streets where you played as a boy, I swear it you bastard, I'm going to...”
That was all Dennison got to say because at that moment Wayne Babbit sneaked out of Harvelle's and hit him over the head with Cal the bartender's 'peacekeeping' club, sending the con man sprawling face first into the dirt.
There was a moment of stunned silence and then loud applause filled the streets and people cheered, the deputies rushing forward to secure the hired outlaws and parents rushed over to the schoolhouse to check on their children. Dean ignored it all, turning his back on Dennison and leaving everything to the townsfolk and to Bobby to deal with as moved as fast as his injured side would allow to where Pastor Jim knelt beside his brother.
“Dean!”
The warning came a fraction of a second too late and Dean felt the sharp sting of metal entering flesh, saw the soft spray of blood in the air, his knees buckling sending him lurching forward. In his mind, he thought he heard the crack of a rifle, heard Bobby call out his name again, felt steady hands catch him before he hit the dirt..
Around him, there was chaos, a blur of sounds and shadows that wouldn’t focus, and then there was Sam, his bloodied face the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and Dean smiled, lifting one hand to touch his cheek, his trembling fingers wiping the tears that fell, smoothing away the sorrow on his little brother’s face.
“Sammy,” Dean said softly, the name coming out like a sigh.
“I gotcha, Dean, you’re ok…you’re gonna be just fine.”
“I thought he’d killed you…”
“Well lucky for us Dennison's a crap shot,” Sam said, struggling to smile, tears and blood and dirt streaking his pale face.
“Thank God for that,” Dean slurred through his veil of pain. The wound in his side throbbed, but the bullet he took in the back was like fire and ice and Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Is he dead?”
“Sure is, Bobby sent him straight to hell where he belongs.”
“Yeah…” Dean breathed, sagging forward against Sam, his brother’s grip on his shoulders instantly tightening.
“Hey, Dean, hey,” Sam said, his voice urgent, “Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me now, gotta help me get you over to Doc’s and I’ll be damned if I’ll be carrying your lazy ass…”
“Ok, Sammy,” Dean whispered, forcing his eyes open. “Oh God, the kids, Lisa, is everyone ok?” Dean asked abruptly, remembering, fear pulling him back from the edge.
“Everyone's fine, Dean, nothing to worry about,” Sam told him, crying in earnest then, strong arms wrapping around Dean in a surprisingly gentle embrace.
“That’s good, Sammy, we did good,” Dean whispered against Sam’s shoulder, spent. “Shit, Ellen's gonna kill us when she sees the pair of us,” Dean said, his words slipping and sliding into each other, all the air gone from his lungs.
“Yeah, she'll be furious” Sam said tearfully, one hand sliding to the nape of Dean’s neck, cradling his head. “You just hold on now, big brother. Bobby’ll patch you up right as rain and we’ll go home and face her together, alright?”
Dean tried to respond, wanted more than anything to tell Sam not to worry, that everything was going to be alright, that nothing could hurt them anymore. There were a million things he needed to say to Sam, things that his brother already knew but that Dean wanted to tell him anyway. He felt boneless, too weak to even hold his head up, too tired to get the words out. Through the hazy mist that settled around him he felt someone, maybe Bobby, try to take him from Sam, heard his brother sobbing like his heart was breaking, felt his pulse slow till the blood in his veins felt thicker than molasses.
When the darkness came, Dean let out a weary sigh and embraced it like an old friend.
* * * * *
“What if he dies, Bobby?”
Bobby gave Sam a look that he couldn't decipher and then the Doc looked over to where Dean was sleeping fitfully in Sam's bed.
“Cause if he dies, I don't know what I'll do, I just...”
“Enough, Sam,” Bobby said, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You two are gonna be doing this till you're eighty, wondering what the other will do if he's left behind, aren't you? 'Cause kid I gotta tell you it ain't normal. This is life, we're born, we live and we die and there's nothing to be done about it, a man would think that you'dve learned that at your fancy college.”
Sam rubbed his hands over his face, wincing as his fingers skimmed over the wound at his hairline where Dennison's bullet had grazed him and knocked him out cold. “It's just that he's all I've got, Bobby.”
“No, he isn't, Sam,” the Doc told him gently. “You've got me, and Ellen and Jo and Jim and Wayne and Janice...should I go on and list the whole town? And you've got your job and your responsibilities to the town council and the school board and the church. Dean is a part of your life, not the center of it. I've watched you two trip over yourselves to please each other your entire lives and I should have said something earlier but the pair of you are stubborn idjits. You can have your own life and still have Dean in it and vice-versa.”
Sam's gaze went back to his brother, the sight of blood stained bandages on his shoulder and his side sickening. Dean had been lucky; the shot he'd taken in his back was high and through and through, thankfully missing anything vital. The wound in his side was also for the most part superficial but he'd lost a lot of blood and was already compromised from his previous leg wound so it wasn't surprising that infection had set it an once no matter how well tended the wounds were. Bobby wasn't making any promises and that scared Sam even more.
“He's my brother, Bobby, the only remaining flesh and blood family that I have, and he's done so much for me, I just feel like I'd be lost without him, you know?”
Ellen chose that minute to come into Sam's bedroom with clean bandages and a basin of warm water and Sam abruptly rose, unable to watch as Doc cleaned up Dean's wounds again. He mumbled his apologies and swiftly made his way down the stairs and out to the front porch, deciding to go over to the jailhouse to check on things. Fortunately the Marshall had shown up within hours of Pastor Jim's urgent telegram and rounded up Dennison's hired men, alive and dead, including the body of the devil himself. Sam had given a brief statement, followed by Wayne, Jim, Peter Tanner, Ed Sawyer and a whole bunch of other furious townsfolk. Now, three days later, everyone's fury had turned to grief because they all feared the worst for Dean. Ellen and Janice Babbit had made gently sending away well-wishers a full time job but they still kept showing up at Sam's house with food, offers of help with the Sheriff's care and words of praise for Sam's bravery and courage. If he heard one more old lady laud him for carrying his unconscious brother down Main Street while injured himself he thought he might break something.
The fact that every trace of Dennison was gone from town was a huge relief to everyone. Aside from a few superficial wounds, Dean's deputies had mostly made it through the gunfight unhurt, thanks to Pastor Jim and his surprising sniper skills, but Sam knew how much that cost the man of God. Aside from the hours he spent sitting with Dean, Jim spent every waking moment in his church contemplating and praying, torturing himself over what he'd done despite the necessity of his actions. Sam knew that Jim would need their support in the coming weeks and he made a mental note to keep close tabs on their old family friend.
Sam found Cal in the jailhouse and sent the reserve deputy to get himself some dinner and he sat himself down at Dean's desk with a heavy heart. No matter if Dean lived, things would probably never be the same in Bedford, he thought sadly, the scars simply went too deep to forget the violence a second time.
“I haven't actually had a chance to thank you properly, Deputy,” Lisa said and Sam looked up, startled, he hadn't even heard the school teacher come in.
“Nothing to thank me more, Lisa, just doing my job,” he said kindly as she sat down across from him.
“Well you and Dean and Doc never only just do your job for this town and you know it,” she replied softly. “I just checked on Dean, he's still feverish, Bobby seems concerned.”
“Yeah, he won't make any promises, but hey, you know Dean, he's tougher than old leather, right?” Sam said, trying to convince himself as well as Lisa.
Lisa's mouth turned up into a small smile. “Yes, he is.”
“Can I ask you something, Lis? I mean at this point anything other than honesty would be stupid since Dean might not even live,” Sam said pointedly.
Lisa's smile faded. “What do you want to know, Sam?”
“Do you love my brother? And if you do is there something or maybe someone standing in the way of the two of you ever being together?” Sam asked earnestly, hoping that Lisa would do the right thing and open her heart to him.
Lisa leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath. “I fell in love with your brother when I was 16 or so, actually I might have even been younger, I don't remember,” she said quietly. “But then your parents died and Dean changed and I was just a girl, I wanted romance and a white wedding and a house with kids and Dean was instantly hardened by what had happened and full of ideas of revenge, he was just different.”
“And there was me.”
“And there was you,” Lisa admitted. “But that didn't bother me, you and I had grown up together, I loved you like a brother, I still do, but Dean wanted me to wait until you went away to college and he stopped courting me regularly and then my father died and I was alone. When Des came to town he swept me off my feet and offered me everything I'd dreamed of. Well, we all know how that turned out,” she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “When I took Ben and went East to go to college I decided that I had to learn to take care of myself and that's what I did. And your brother didn't try to stop me, which was actually a good thing because becoming a teacher was the best decision I've ever made.”
“And now? I mean Des is gone for good and I don't need taking care of anymore, so why do you keep turning him down, Lis?” Sam asked, confused.
“Sam, your brother is still the man he became when your parents died. He still puts his job and his responsibilities to the town...and to you first. I'll never be first for him and I know that and I've moved on. So if you're asking if this horrible tragedy has changed anything for me, then the answer is no. I still love your brother, I'm terrified for his welfare right now, but I do not want to marry him,” she told him firmly, despite the tears that welled up in her eyes.
“Did you know that Jess left me for more or less the same reasons? She said everything you just did but about me,” Sam told her, sharing the story with an outsider for the first time.
“I'd suspected. I know she told everyone that she couldn’t pursue her career in journalism in a tiny town like Bedford but I knew all of you well enough to think otherwise.”
“I just got a lecture from Bobby as well, told me I need to stop being so clingy,” he told her with a watery smile. “Well he didn't exactly say that but it's what he meant.”
“Think about it, Sam, just spend some time thinking about what you want and what Dean wants and talk to him, see if the two of you can find a way to adjust your priorities in a way that will make you both happier,” Lisa said, rising to go.
Sam stood up at once and opened the door for her. “You're a fine woman, Lisa, for Dean you'll always be the one that got away,” Sam told her, pressing a kiss to her smooth cheek.
“Maybe,” she said, stepping outside, “but then again maybe I was never what he really needed, I guess we'll never know.”
* * * * *
“You need a haircut.”
It was an old joke between them. Sam had a tendency to leave his hair overly long and often unruly and Dean's not so subtle suggestions that he looked like a hobo usually led to an argument that neither could win. But Dean said it to his brother on purpose, his own way of letting Sam know that he was doing better.
“You're mostly unconscious for the better part of the week, delirious with fever and the first rational thing you say to me is that I need a haircut?” Sam asked, grinning sleepily at Dean from where he'd been dozing in a chair beside him.
“Yeah, well it's the truth, and a shave too,” Dean told him, his voice raspy from sleep and disuse.
“You should get a look at yourself, big brother, you're on your way to a full beard.”
“Ugh, don't remind me, it's itchy as hell,” Dean griped, shutting his eyes against the sunlight that was pouring in between the open curtains. “Damn, I need to piss, you gotta bottle or something?”
“Gross, Dean, you'll have to wait for Bobby, he'll be back soon, I am not helping you take a piss in a bottle,” he told his brother firmly.
“Great, if I piss myself I'm telling Bobby to make you change the sheets.”
“You do that,” Sam said and sighed loudly.
Dean opened one eye and frowned. “What's with you? Am I gonna die or something?”
“No you ass, I'm just tired and relieved and waiting on you getting your butt out of that bed and back to work,” Sam told him. “And please no more talk of dying. Dennison is gone, everyone in town is mostly healed up and I just wanna forget everything. Maybe we should take a vacation, see the Grand Canyon or something,” Sam said hopefully.
“And leave Doc alone in charge? No thanks, I'll probably lose all my hair worrying anyway so what kind of a vacation would that be?”
“You see that's your problem, Dean, you think that this town can't survive without you, you're always putting Bedford and it's problems before yourself. No, this time, I'm putting my foot down. We're taking a vacation and we're gonna enjoy it!”
“And if I say no?” Dean asked, fidgeting, hoping Bobby and that bottle would get there quick.
“Then I'll hog-tie you and drag you, isn't that what you're always threatening to to to me when I don't follow your orders?” Sam stood up and let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, can you not argue with me this one time?”
“Ok, Sammy, we'll go to the Grand Canyon if it makes you happy,” Dean conceded.
“Not to make me happy, Dean, to make us both happy. Can't you just ever relax and enjoy yourself? Jesus, it's exhausting watching you try and control everything and take care of everyone, especially me. It has to stop, both of us, we just gotta stop trying to please each other and look out for each other all the time. I got more than one lecture about that while you were off in dreamland.”
“Sam...”
“Look it's too late for me and Jess and most likely for you and Lisa, hell I don't even know if either of us will ever get serious with anyone again. But we should at least try and live a little more, you know? This thing between us, this messed-up relationship we have, it's strange and it's complicated and sometimes I don't understand it myself but promise me, Dean, just promise me that at the very least we will stop being martyrs to this town and to each other and live like normal people who have fun and go on vacations now and again and who don't have to be within the same 50 miles of each other at all times in order to survive.”
“Wow, that's a lot of thinking you've been doing, Sam, hope you didn't hurt that big brain of yours,” Dean said, his heart suddenly racing oddly. Sam was right, everything he'd said was spot-on but Dean usually liked to steer-clear of the subject of their peculiar relationship, especially since it made him feel guilty as hell over Sam's divorce from Jess.
“Dean, quit joking, I'm serious, promise me!”
“Ok, ok, I promise, I'll have more fun, I'll even dance with Ellen and Janice at the next town social, how's that for having fun?”
“Dean...”
“I get it Sam, you're right. And since we've finally put this whole Dennison business behind us it'll probably be easier, you know?” Dean said, the fact that their parents had been avenged once and for all finally sinking in.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, sitting down beside Dean once more. “You really look like shit, Dean,” he said, “You need to take better care of yourself this time. I'm going to leave a few men on the payroll for another few weeks, just in case, to give you time to get back on your feet without worrying yourself bald.”
“I think losing my hair would be a bigger tragedy than me dying in a gunfight,” Dean joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Sam snorted. “Good to see that your ego is still intact.”
“Ok, enough chit-chat, go and find Bobby and that bottle or you'll regret it.”
“I'm on it. And Dean? I'm making travel plans, the Grand Canyon or bust, got that?”
Dean smiled, probably the first genuine smile he'd cracked since Sam had graduated from college actually, and he reached for his brother's hand, giving it a weak squeeze..
“Grand Canyon or bust, Sammy.”
fin