The Wild Bunch Pt 1
The Wild Bunch
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jessica, John/Mary, Bobby/Ellen, Jo/Ash, various others
Rating: PG-13
Warnings for implied sex, suggestive dialog, violence, mgreg and pregnancy, bottom Castiel. Implied Het and M/M sex.
Summary: Old West AU. Human Castiel. The Winchester/Singer families are outlaws living on fringes of society. They rob banks and trains for a living but are careful never to kill people. Since they also give money to poor and fight the train companies who try to steal land from improvised farmers and ranchers they are also extremely popular with the common people. Marshal Frank Azazel and Pinkerton Agent Alistair Black work with train executive Matthew Crowley to track the Wild Bunch down and bring them to justice.
The fire was burning low and Bobby Singer groaned deep in his throat at the mere thought of getting up to scrounge more wood. Sighing he half rose from his seated position but paused when the clump of boots over the uneven terrain drew his attention. John Winchester flung a small arm load of twigs and thin branches into the fire pit then dropped into a squat beside the flickering flames. Bobby grunted settling down again. John raked the embers over the fresh wood smiling briefly when the flames caught and leapt higher.
Silently he reached across the pit to the metal rack settled across the rough stone ring for the coffee pot nestled on the grill. Metal clanged against metal as the spout of the pot struck the side of John’s mug and he sniffed watching the rich dark brew fill the cup.
Finally John sat down, grunted a little, and then patting Bobby on the leg, “Damn, nights like these I start to feelin’ pretty old.”
Bobby uttered a thin chuckle, “I been feelin’ that way for a long time now John-boy.”
If Winchester took any offense at the nickname he didn’t show it. Sipping at his coffee he glanced at the lavender and navy of the darkening night sky. “Getting on to winter. I reckon we’d just as well head up to the high ground.”
“Reckon you’re right,” Bobby agreed amiably. “Best send the boys into town for a last minute supply run. And let Victor and Ash pick up a few hookers for the boys. Winter nights get awful cold and lonely.”
John nodded, “Yeah, tell ‘em to pick up that Benny Boy from Meg Masters’ place. The blue eyed one that Dean’s so struck on.”
With a slightly sullen glare the older man hauled himself to his feet wincing at the pins and needles running up his leg. Bobby hobbled over to the small cluster of men huddled around a second fire lounging on bed rolls. The tallest of the small group was a fit looking black man with hard eyes and a thin mustache. Glancing up he rose as the older man approached, “Something up Bobby?”
“Victor, me and John are headin’ up the hill toward high country. I want you to take Ash and Adam and head on into town for whatever last minute supplies you boys want. Also pick up some girls from Meg’s place…clean ones. Not crazy like that Ruby last year. And find that blue eyed boy that Dean’s so gone for.”
Victor grimaced at the mention of the male whore that Dean fancied, but Dean was also the boss man’s son so he kept his opinion to himself. Coming from people who had been slaves just a few short years ago he knew what it was like to be looked down on by society, hated for nothing more than who he was, and if Dean Winchester fancied a man well far be it from Victor to start a fuss. He had a good life with the Winchesters and he wasn’t going to risk it.
Frowning Victor looked at the two younger men settled on their bedrolls, “Well you heard the man, get a move on.”
Ash stumbled to his feet then reached down a hand for the other man. Adam grunted flinching a little at Victor’s scowl. Victor was damned scary when he wanted to be, and when it came to Ash and Adam he wanted to be all the time. The three Winchester gang members quickly saddled their horses and headed for the thin gulley that led to the dirt and gravel path into town.
Sutter’s Hollow was a one street village surrounded by small farms and a couple of larger cattle ranches. The silver mines in the low foot hills of the San Gregonio Mountains had run dry a year or so ago and the only saving grace the town had was the Western Union telegraph office at the train station and Meg Master’s elaborate whorehouse next to the Crazy Horse Saloon.
The Winchester gang, minus John whose wife Mary would have slit his throat if she found out he was consorting with Meg’s “girls” and Bobby who had a long standing affair with Ellen Harvelle since her husband Bill had died some ten years earlier, all were regular patrons at the Chimes, a former boarding house with a fine restaurant on the ground floor and more nefarious business plied upstairs.
As Victor and the two others made their way into the quiet streets of the tiny town the gas lamps dotting the street at various points began to flicker into life. At the far end of the main boulevard Victor could make out the stately two story building housing Meg’s place.
Across the street from the Chimes was the squat wood beam building that made up the General Store. Staring at Ash then at Adam the elder hand pulled a slip of heavy ivory colored stationary out of his pocket smoothing it flat against his denim covered thigh. Glancing at the younger men Victor heaved a sigh, “Either of you two know how to read?”
Ash puffed up smirking, “I went to school all the way through the eighth grade.”
Rolling his eyes Victor shoved the paper at Ash, but the younger man drew back. “That’s Miss Ellen’s fancy writing. I ain’t so good at readin’ that.”
Glaring Victor grumbled, “Okay you two nitwits head on down to Meg’s place. I got to go by the doctor’s office and pick up these doctoring supplies that Miss Ellen asked for. Mind you pick clean girls and stay away from that crazy bitch Ruby.”
Adam nodded vigorously, “Yeah I still got a bite mark on my ass from that girl.”
Shooting him a withering look Victor heaved a sigh again, “I really don’t want to hear about your business, boy.”
The three parted company Victor heading down the street in the direction of Old Doc Sutter’s house and office. As his horse ambled down the street Victor considered this small town. Doctor Sutter was the grandson of the old man himself. Martin Sutter had staked the claim for the old silver mine high in the San Gregonio pass. First and thereby oldest of the four mines surrounding the tiny town. That would have been sometime thirty years ago, a time when Victor had been a younger man and a soldier fighting for the Union in the war. The time when he had first run into a young Lieutenant John Winchester, a Kansas boy fighting for the Union troops as well.
Victor himself had seen his sisters, mother and grandparents safe to Ohio before heading off to join the Union forces. He had been impressed with Winchester, his fairness to all the troops whether they were black or white, and his respect and integrity. Victor even respected his fair treatment of the Confederate prisoners of war. So it was natural that after the war ended Victor threw in with John and went back to Kansas to help him restore and run his family’s farm.
It was a few years later when the railroad started criss-crossing the American landscape and the concept of eminent domain had robbed many families of their hard earned land that Winchester had decided he had had enough. Put off his own farm, for pennies on the dollar, John had gathered his teen-aged sons and a few local boys and set to making the Union Pacific pay for its sins. Victor had gone along and the rest was history.
The door to Doctor Sutter’s office creaked open as it always did and Victor ducked a little as he went in even though he had a couple of inches clearance. The front room of the office was large, airy with two windows looking out at the street and a parlor-like waiting area set up with a sofa and several arm chairs arranged around the pot-bellied cast iron stove.
At the far end of the room were a large golden oak roll-top desk and a heavily padded leather chair. At the desk was a small young woman. She glanced up at Victor smiling as he came into the room. Quickly the cowboy swept his hat off his head nodding, “Good evenin’, Miss Cassie.”
“Mr. Hendricksen,” she replied with a giggle. Victor felt his cheeks warming. He had been coming to the doctor’s office every chance he got since Doc had hired the pretty young woman but he was still reluctant to ask her out considering that he was a good fifteen years her senior. Still she was a pretty little slip of a girl and educated as well. Victor tried not to let on how much schooling he had; many white men were still offended by a black man, and former slave, who had college training.
“I got a list from Miss Ellen here of all the doctor supplies we need for the winter.”
Standing Cassie held out a hand, “Okay let’s see what you need. Doctor Sutter put aside a box for you; we’ll go through it and make sure that everything is in order. How are Mr. and Missus Winchester?”
Victor cleared his throat feeling ill at ease even with simple social chatter, “Just fine. We’re getting’ ready to head to high country for the winter. You probably won’t be seein’ much of us ‘til the spring thaw.”
“What a shame,” Cassie said with a sigh, “You know Doc’s planning on going to visit his folks in Sacramento, so the office is gonna be closing. I guess I’ll be out of a job before too long.”
Taking a deep breath Victor crumpled the brim of his hat in his fist then smiled, “I would love it if you’d see fit to come to high country with us. I ain’t offering marriage, I know, and you’re too good a girl for me but…”
Cassie shot him a blinding grin, “Mr. Hendricksen, I’d love too.”
Ash and Adam wandered down the street from the doctor’s office to the two story building housing Meg’s Place. The Chimes had been a boarding house and restaurant when the silver mines were running full force. As the metal played out so did the miners as the men moved on to more productive claims. The old owners of the building had sold out to various others, but the house never stayed full enough to make a decent payout until Meg Masters and her “soiled doves” had shown up.
Meg was a wily young woman who had moved from the crowded run down red light district of Sacramento to the more open spaces of the country. There were farms and ranches and the train station all of which had men looking for entertainment and a place to spend their hard earned cash. And Meg gave it to them. The girls were clean, healthy and for the most part sane. And Meg kept a clean house, the sheets washed daily in the big bathhouse out back. A cowboy could get a good meal, a hot bath and a little companionship for a moderate price. The men patronized the place in droves. Meg made money hand over fist.
Ash swept his hat off his head as he stepped through the big oak doors of the Chimes. Meg was sitting at a desk in the front parlor across from the big hard wood bar she had added in. There were already several men seated in the tall brass and brocade padded barstools, glass in hand. One of the men turned around glaring at the younger man in the doorway. Adam stepped in behind Ash eyes scanning the room. His glance passed over the cadaverous looking man wearing a dark suit seated at the bar, a black bowler hat nestled by his elbow. The lean man’s pale blue eyes settled on Adam making the young man shiver. He coughed glancing quickly away.
Besides the stranger was a smaller man, about John Winchester’s age, with pale hazel eyes that seemed to go golden yellow in the late afternoon light. The man was dressed in a non-descript pair of denim jeans and a plaid shirt covered by a brown leather vest. It was only the glint of gold pinned to the vest that captured the gang member’s attention.
Quickly Adam elbowed his companion in the side giving the two men at the bar a barely perceptible nod. Ash turned slightly keeping his gaze mostly focused on the wall, but catching both men out of the corner of his eye. He also noticed the gold badge, flinching. The smaller of the two men was a U.S. Marshal.
Ducking his head Adam gave the bar a wide berth as he headed to the desk and the young woman seated behind it. Meg glanced up as the two gang members approached. Shoving her ledger aside she waved a delicate hand at the closest table. Quickly Ash tugged a chair over settling down.
Cocking his head at the two men behind them Adam shot her a grin, “Uhh, the boss man sent us to pick up a couple of girls and that benny boy …his son is so fond of.”
Narrowing her eyes Meg shrugged, “The girls are here. I’ve got a few picked out…”
Adam frowned, “Not that Ruby.”
Now Meg laughed, “No she wanted to go back to Sacramento anyway. I called Crowley and he had her on the last coach out. I’ve got Sarah, Madison and one other girl. But Jimmy left with Ruby, there weren’t that many of the boys around here who fancied a man. Not as much need for him. I’m sorry for…your friend, but I can’t help you.”
Adam glared. He and Dean Winchester had been friends since the younger man had been taken in by John and Mary Winchester when his mother died. There had been some muttering among towns people that John Winchester was, in fact, Adam Milligan’s father, but the mutter never got loud enough for John or the boys to take notice.
Ash also looked truly dismayed. He waved the three girls over watching as they got their bags and parcels together. Quickly Adam lead the girls out of the door and down the street toward the buckboard and horses tied in front of the saloon. Ash turned to his friend, “I ain’t gonna leave Dean with no comfort all this winter. High country gets pretty cold and lonely.”
Adam paused in settling the girls into the back of the wagon, “So whacha gonna do? You heard Meg. That Jimmy he’s so fond of is gone to Sacramento.”
“But I know another fella who bares him a strong resemblance. He might be disposed to go along.”
Without looking back Ash turned ambling down the street. At the corner he could see the buckboard and the three girls standing in a small cluster talking animatedly among themselves. All the girls at Meg’s vied for the opportunity to go to high country with the Winchester gang. John was a generous man, well known for his rough attitude and soft heart. Not to mention that Miss Mary ruled the roust with an iron fist. John made damn sure his boys treated the girls with respect. And the pay was damned good too.
Adam hurried to catch up to his friend watching curiously as Ash by-passed the saloon and livery stable heading down a side street to the two story white washed church. As the two gang members drew closer to the building they could see and hear a tall, portly, balding man in black clothes yelling at the slight figure of his younger associate. Adam pulled to a halt, but Ash brushed past him climbing the flight of stairs leading up to the porch of the grand old structure.
Father Zachariah sniffing at the two younger men, “Is there something I can do for you…gentlemen?”
Sweeping his hat off his head Ash nodded, “Uh…yes sir, padre. I come to talk at Father Cas.”
The older man frowned, “And just what business could you possibly have with Father…Castiel?”
Ash grinned drawing himself to full height although he still had to look up several inches to meet the taller man’s stormy grey eyes. “Well, padre, I reckon that’s Father Cas’s business.”
Zachariah frowned but before he could say anything the younger priest climbed the steps to the church touching Ash on the arm. The gang member turned smiling, “Ahh, Cas…I mean Father can I talk to you private-like?”
“Did you want to make a confession?”
Ash looked mildly panicked but Adam grabbed his friend by the arm and the priest by the other shoving them both towards the doors of the sanctuary. Castiel recovered first gently shaking the younger man’s hand loose then opening the doors ushering both men inside. Ash followed Castiel to the confessional under the watchful eyes of the senior priest. When Ash was seated inside the small booth with Adam standing look-out in the hall Castiel disappeared inside the other booth.
With an amused smiled the priest said gently, “Did you really want to make confession?”
“I ain’t rightly sure exactly what that means, Cas. I mean Father.”
Chuckling Castiel steepled his fingers, “Its okay, Father Zachariah is occupied elsewhere.”
Ash nodded, “Okay. I don’t mean to be to forward Cas. But the reason I’m here is that we’re going up to high country for the winter. And well, I came to get Jimmy for Dean to have some companionship like the rest of us… exceptin’ the married folks.”
“Companionship?” Castiel said eyebrow quirked, “I guess it would be lonely up in the mountains all winter long until late spring. You all gather there, all the Winchesters?”
“Yeah, all the whole gang. It’s a great place to lay low even if it’s way up high. One road in and out, real easy to watch. Just in case the Marshal gets a notion to come after us. Not many do considering that avalanche wiped out that whole posse year before last.”
Now the priest frowned, Ash paused taking a deep breath and Castiel said, “I don’t see what that has to do with me? Is Jimmy ill or does he need counsel?”
“Well, uh…no. Jimmy up and left back to Sacramento. And there ain’t no one else that Dean takes a shine too. Except you, Cas. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
The quick intake of breath from the other booth made the younger man cringed. So Castiel was just as oblivious as Sam said he was. Then the priest coughed quietly, “You must know that I have duties here at the church. My life is not my own.”
“It could be,” Ash said quickly, “I think you look a might hard at Dean too when Miss Mary brings us all to Sunday service.”
“That is my weakness, and I try to atone for it. I try to do good works here, Ash. As much as Father Zachariah lets me.”
“No better place to do good works, Cas, than a bunch of sinners snowed in all winter.”
Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by a harsh cough from outside the confessional. Adam shifted coughing again, and then said more loudly than necessary, “Hello Father Zachariah.”
The older priest sniffed, “Don’t play games with me boy. I know the two of you are up to no good. Father Castiel I think this charade has gone on long enough. Kick these two hooligans out and return to you duties cleaning the yard.”
Rising Castiel pushed the door to the booth open. Ash shot him a rueful grin as he came around the door of the other side, “So Cas…whaddya say?”
Brushing a hand through his hair the young priest shook his head, “I cannot be anyone but who I am, Ash. I am not Jimmy.”
Ash took him by the elbow, “I’m tellin’ you Cas. You don’t have to be.”
Zachariah whirled glaring at the younger priest, “How dare you still consort with these low-lifes. If you do not cease to be so insubordinate I will cane you. Do you understand me?”
Castiel straightened as Ash reached for the Colt .45 hung low on his hip. Quickly the younger priest waved the cowboy away, “No… Ash this is God’s house, please no violence.”
Turning Castiel reached up tugging the white collar free from his shirt, “Father Zachariah I have come to realize that…”
“Be careful what you say Castiel. For so long as you are member of this organization; you will answer to me.”
“That’s where you are wrong Zachariah. I answer to God. And as far as me being a member of this ‘organization’,” the priest paused making quote marks in the air. “I hereby tender my resignation.”
“I’ll see you excommunicated,” the elder priest snapped. “Gather your personal possessions and get out. And don’t you dare take one thing that the church has provided for you.”
Once Castiel has packed his meager belongings the three men left the church heading back to the wagon where they met Victor and the four young women. Ash cast a sideways glance at the young nurse but said nothing. Victor turned jaw dropping at the sight of the younger priest.
“Oh lord, what did you two knuckleheads do now?” he said glaring at Ash and Adam. Adam flinched but Ash held up a placating hand. Before he could say anything the door to the saloon swung open and two figures stepped out. Victor turned backing away as the tall form of the Pinkerton agent and then the marshal sauntered toward the wagon.
Reaching up Agent Black pushed his bowler hat back on his head leaning down into Victor’s face, “So just what are you boys up to this fine day?”
Victor flinched and beside him Ash’s hand crept to the gun holstered on his hip. Victor nodded his head imperceptibly, and then grasped the thick flannel shirt at Ash’s elbow holding his arm firm. Ash didn’t even flinch just stilled not looking at the older man. Shooting Alistair as patently phony smile Victor said, “Nothin’, boss. We were just picking up some supplies.”
The marshal stepped up to the wagon flipping back the canvas over the crates and barrels then he glanced at the three girls waiting to be seated on a bench wedged into the front of the wagon bed behind the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I see that…supplies.” He said drily.
Castiel walked around the wagon shoving between the Pinkerton agent and the gang members, “Is there a problem here, gentlemen? We really need to be on our way.”
Marshal Azazel frowned, “So these men are with you, Father?”
“Yes,” Castiel replied praying that the other men didn’t notice the quaver in his voice. Alistair grunted.
“So you’re consorting with whores and thieves now Priest?”
“Well, Jesus’ disciples included a prostitute, a tax collector and two men with anger issues so bad they were called the Sons of Thunder, am I any better than He?”
Victor chuckled as the three cowboys surrounded the priest. Marshal Azazel and the Pinkerton agent watched silently as the men began helping the four women onto the wagon where they seated themselves on a bench at the front end of the wagon bed right behind the drive’s bench. Carefully Castiel settled into the wagon helping load crates and barrels as the other men handed them up.
They ignored the two men standing on the sidewalk until the marshal and the agent gave up walking a short distance to the livery stable. Victor kept an eye on them but felt a wave of relief wash over him when neither man seemed inclined to saddle a horse.
Once the wagon was loaded Victor jumped into the driver’s seat while Ash took up the shotgun position. Adam followed behind on his horse leading Ash’s now pack laden horse as well. The small party headed own Main Street under the watchful eyes of the marshal and the Pinkerton agent.
&&&&&&&
The dining car of the number Nineteen car of the Union Pacific Railroad was all gleaming brass and deep red velvet. The tables were golden oak so highly polished they could be used as a mirror. The two men seated at the largest of the tables, hat in hand, looked distinctly out of place and just as uncomfortable as the man pacing beside the iron, pot-bellied stove, heating the car looked in his element.
Matthew Crowley paced the full width of the car; hands clasped together, and then turned focusing his formidable glare on the two men who had lately come into his employment, “I understand that Winchester and his gang made it to the high country? Why is that, gentlemen? That gang has been a thorn in the side of the Union Pacific Railroad for years now, and by extension they have been a thorn in my side for years now too. And I am heartily growing tired of that pain. They rob the trains; I’ve lost thousands of dollars in money and cargo to them in that time. I want it stopped. Alistair, as a Pinkerton agent it is your job to see these robber scum brought to justice, and Marshal Azazel, I thought you had a vendetta against John Winchester for so long it is almost a legend in these parts. Why are you not getting the job done? Is my money all for naught? Perhaps you can learn to live without it?”
The marshal fidgeted in his seat, not because he was intimated buy the smaller man, but because he was anxious to be away from his incessant whining. He started to offer a response to Crowley’s tirade but the Pinkerton agent interrupted. “We know exactly what you want, Crowley. We’ve all been here before. The trouble is that Winchester and his gang are right popular with the folks around these parts. They give away almost as much money as they keep. And a lot of folks aren’t too fond of the Union Pacific or, it pains me to say, you Mr. Crowley.”
Crowley snorted, “I don’t think that it pains you to say that at all Agent Black. But you’re right. Winchester plays Robin Hood very effectively, and he and his merry band of hooligans are very popular indeed.”
One of the girls from Meg’s place was hovering just outside the door to the dining car. Crowley frowned at her then motioned her forward with a terse jerk of his chin. She scrambled inside careful of the crystal highball glass and thick clear glass bottle of top-shelf scotch that the railroad tycoon kept for himself.
“Well, sweetheart… pour me a generous helping of that fine beverage.” Crowley said snidely. The girl set the tray on the table in front of her boss pulling the crystal stopper with a loud popping sound. She smoothly tipped the decanter pouring three fingers of amber liquid into the glass.
“Uhh, Mr. Crowley, do you want water?”
Now the man shuddered, “God’s sake why darlin’? I want a drink…not a bath.”
With an impatient wave Crowley sent the girl on her way, turning he leveled a gaze at the Pinkerton agent and the lawman, “Gentlemen when that wagon heads up the hill this afternoon I want you and a posse following. Find Winchester’s hideout and get one of them back here for questioning, whatever way you can.”
“Are you sure about that boss?’ Alistair asked with a gin, almost licking his lips. Crowley shot him s look.
“Do I have to repeat myself? Listen carefully, do whatever you have to do to get Winchester out of his hidey-hole and back into town.”
Part Two