Fic: Cycles (1/1)
Title: Cycles
Rating: PG
Fandoms: Brisco County Jr. and... well, you guess.
Summary: After a rather harrowing adventure the likes of which Brisco has never seen, he gets some instruction from the most unlikely of places.
Disclaimer: Standard I-own-nothing disclaimer of please don't sue.
Feedback: Tell me I'm crazy or ask for more.
And now:
"Dad?"
Brisco County (Jr., in this case), looked up from his spot on the ground. He'd ridden out to this spot to clear his head, to bask in the sunshine for a while as Comet grazed...
To try and forget what he'd had to deal with in that damn cabin.
"Well, I ain't y'grandmother."
He shook his head to clear some of the sun out of his eyes and pulled his hat back onto his head.
"What's the problem now, Dad? I'm not allowed three seconds to rest my head after what happened?"
His father's ghost eyed him cooly without answering, which had Brisco climbing to his feet and dusting himself off with an irritated grunt.
"I suppose that's a 'no' then."
"Damn right it ain't," his father chimed in, walking towards Comet to herd the animal back towards Brisco. "You need to get going. After that mess back in the last valley--"
"Mess?" he practically exploded. "You call that a mess? The thing was killing people, Dad, and my gun was useless. What was I supposed to do, hope it rotted before it clawed my eyes out? I didn't even know what it was!"
"Zombie," the old man answered as Comet cantered, "And that was a tame one, son."
"A tame one? What do the other ones do? Rip up the--"
Marshal County shook his head, his whiskers practically bristling with irritation.
"You don't want to know that, Brisco, and it isn't important right now."
Brisco looked skeptically at his father.
"Oh yeah? Well, what is?"
The old ghost snorted.
"Those reports of bloodless corpses up in Sheldon. And you shouldn't be wastin' time, son. It's gonna be dark soon enough."
"Bloodless--Shel--dar--"
He planted himself firmly in place.
"Okay, Dad, I'm not going anywhere until you explain."
The senior County snorted.
"I've got to explain vampires to you? And here I thought I'd paid enough for that education of yours that it'd be worth something."
Brisco didn't balk. Instead, he got up on his horse and started cantering... in the opposite direction.
"You disobeying me, boy?"
He didn't turn around. "When you're dead and talking about 'vampires', yeah. Yeah, I am."
Marshal County appeared, on his horse, in front of his son.
"You don't think I'm serious? When did I ever play games when people's lives were on the line?"
Brisco sighed tiredly. "Never, Dad, but isn't this just a little--"
"A little nothing," the old man barked, pointing towards the valley, towards the cabin. "You're going to tell me that was just a little something, son? Cause if you do, I'm not the madman here."
The younger, living man halted and looked back, thinking about what he'd seen in that cabin in the woods. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, nor did he turn, but when he finally did, it was with a resigned expression on his face.
"Vampires?"
"Vampires."
Brisco sighed.
"Is this going to become a habit of yours, Dad?"
The ghost snorted.
"I should hope you'll pick up the jist of it soon enough so I can get back to restin' in peace," he answered. "Though I suppose I'll have to get the gun in your hands."
That just confused him and left Brisco looking down at his hip where his father's gun rested snugly in it's holster.
"I have your gun, Dad. Getting senile in your--"
Well, that fell a bit flat.
"You never wondered where the other half of the pair was?"
And Brisco opened his mouth to say something in reply to that, but found that yes, he had a number of times. After all, he'd seen the other gun, the plain wood-handled gun, when he was a boy. He hadn't seen it for ages, though, so long ago that he'd almost forgot it. The plain gun, the one with the lawman's star carved into the handle and the words across the top. He'd always thought they were funny, especially considering his father'd never been much for religion.
"Well, yeah, Dad," he finally said, speaking slowly as he worked it all out in his head, "but... what does that have to do with hunting down vampires and and and and the kinds of things like I dealt with back there?"
His father smiled, a tired, faintly amused sort of expression.
"It's not really something I can explain, son. It's just the sort of thing you're going to have to learn on the way."
"What does that mean?"
"You'll find out in Sheldon," the spirit said as he wheeled his horse about. He gave the animal a pat and Brisco a smile. "Trust me. And trust yourself. Remember what I told you the last time."
Brisco blinked and in that moment, his father disappeared, horse and all. That left him irritated, annoyed, and that just made all the aches and pains from earlier pop right up from where they'd been hiding during his sunbath.
"What do you think, Comet?"
The horse neighed. So helpful. Brisco shook his head and resigned himself to what was to come.
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
-fin-