Fic: Who You Gonna Call 10/10
And we're at the end of another one....and we also find out just what it was that Dean bought at that little shop in town the other day...
Hope you enjoy - Resort Bréagadóir is next on the list for posting.
Jules
Epilogue
“Ow! Jeez - mmmmm - ohh - mmm…”
“Stop squirming!”
“Ow, ow, ow! Ohhhh - son of a bitch!”
“Almost done - stop being such a baby.”
“God - you’re no freakin’ Florence Nightingale - ahhhhhh! Son of a…”
“All right - we’re done.”
“Jeez - she freakin’ salts me - now you’re tryin’ to freakin’ burn me!” Dean’s fists clenched against the surface of the table.
Sighing, Sam dropped the bloodstained cloth into the bowl of antiseptic wash, and gently applied a gauze dressing over the worst of his brother’s wounds. The worst of the external damage had been to Dean’s shoulder and upper back, where the rock salt had peppered his skin with tiny holes. Sam secured the ends of the gauze pad with surgical tape, and then sat back, pulling at his lower lip and eyeing his brother speculatively.
Dean turned his head, met his sibling’s gaze, and groaned, dropping his head onto his outstretched arms. “Ah, jeez…”
“I’ve gotta check, Dean.”
“Oh, man…” Sitting up straight in the chair, Dean raised his arms slightly and hissed as Sam felt along his ribcage. “Jeez…”
“Is it a sharp pain, or more like an ache?”
“An - ahhh - ache…”
“All right - well - you were lucky, big brother. They’re just bruised - not fractured.”
“Lucky - dude, you’ve got a weird definition of luck.” The elder man winced as his brother helped him pull a fresh tee shirt on, and then he pointed to the gauze pad taped to Sam’s forehead. “How come you get doctored by the cute chick, and I get stuck with you?”
“So, you think she’s cute?” The psychic grinned as he pulled a sling from the first aid kit and unfolded it.
“Well, yeah - in a fluffy kinda way.” Dean smirked, ducking as Sam took a swing at his head. “Hey! Injured, here!”
“Dean - you bitched so much about her shooting you, she figured you didn’t want her help. She’s gone upstairs to take a shower.” Sam frowned down at his brother as he slipped the sling over Dean’s head and helped him settle his left arm comfortably inside it. “Tell me you left her some hot water.”
Dean squirmed uncomfortably, then shot a glance at the ceiling of the dining room as a faint shriek sounded from upstairs. “Yeah - I left some…” He rolled his wounded shoulder carefully as Sam adjusted the sling and made sure the knot was resting comfortably behind his neck.
The younger man dropped onto the chair by his sibling and sighed, running his hands through his hair. He glanced up curiously as he felt a tap on his arm, and encountered Dean’s stern gaze. “What?”
“Your turn. Let me see your eyes.” Dean grasped Sam’s chin with his good hand and turned his brother’s face to the light to check his pupils. “Headache?”
“Yeah - not bad, though. Visions hurt worse.”
“You feel sick? Blurred vision? Any trouble breathing?” The elder’s gaze fastened on the faint bruises on his sibling’s throat.
“No, I’m okay.” Sam darted a glance at his brother. “So - does that mean I’m not grounded any more?”
“Hell, no - you’re still grounded.” Dean scowled as he dropped his hand.
Sam spread his hands. “Dean…”
The elder Winchester reached out and grabbed the back of his brother’s neck. “Dammit, Sammy - I just got you back after the last time! Going out there alone to contact that spirit - without me to watch your back - what the hell were you thinking?”
The psychic dropped his gaze as he saw the worry in his brother’s eyes. “I - I’m sorry - I didn’t think…”
“No, you didn’t.” Dean sighed, and shook his head. “I don’t know what goes on in that freaky head of yours sometimes. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“Yeah, well - don’t you go hitting on girls whose boyfriend is the local cop - and a murderer.” Sam’s intent gaze pinned his brother.
“Yeah, well…” The older man rolled his eyes and let his hand drop.
Sam snorted as his brother sat back. “And you said it would be an easy hunt. Just a simple salt and burn, I believe were your exact words.”
“Well, it was.”
“What!”
Dean shrugged his good shoulder as he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. “It was a simple salt and burn - at least, Clifford’s was. So I was right - again.”
Sam stared at his brother in disbelief, then he shook his head and grinned faintly. “Whatever, man.”
Macy stopped just inside the doorway and watched the battered hunters for a moment. Their faces turned toward her, and she frowned at the elder. “Thanks for leaving me some hot water, Dean.”
The green-eyed man rubbed the back of his neck and grinned ruefully. “No problem.”
The realtor pushed up the sleeves of her loose sweater and disappeared into the kitchen, and soon the smell of fresh coffee filled the room. Macy returned with a pot of coffee and a plate of cookies, and smiled as she saw the boys’ eyes light up at the sight of the home made treats. “Can’t take credit for these, guys. My neighbour bakes them for me.”
Dean studied the girl as he poured himself a cup of coffee. The petite blonde looked pale, and dark circles ringed her eyes. He pursed his lips, snatched two cookies off the plate right from under his brother’s hand, and grinned as Sam shot him a dark look. “Macy - why don’t you get some sleep?”
The girl shook her head and cradled her coffee cup in her hands. “I don’t feel much like sleeping. You guys go ahead.” She took a sip of the strong brew, and sighed. “I made up the guest room - it’s the first door on the right from the top of the stairs.”
The elder brother nodded his thanks and gestured to his sibling. “Uh - have you got an alarm or something? I need to wake him up every couple of hours.”
Macy tilted her head curiously. “Concussion?”
“Dean - I told you I was fine…”
“He was feeling sick when he came to, but it passed. He could have a delayed reaction.” The girl put a finger to her lips. “But you need to rest, too, Dean. I’ll check on Sam.”
“I told you…” The young hunter began.
“You sure? ‘Cause if you’re too tired…” Dean raised an eyebrow at the girl as his brother let out an annoyed huff.
Macy smiled. “No - I’d be happy to. I’m not tired - really. I think I’m too wired to sleep.” She waved at the first aid kit. “Painkillers in there too, guys. You’d both better take some before you go upstairs.”
Dean twisted the cap off the bottle of Tylenol, passed two of the painkillers to Sam, then palmed two for himself and washed them down with the last of his coffee. Putting his empty cup back on the tray, he tapped Sam’s arm with the back of his hand and got to his feet, waiting for his sibling to grab his crutches and start toward the stairs. He turned in the doorway, and Sam stopped a few feet away, looking back. “Macy - you okay?”
Macy smiled softly at the concern evident in the wide green eyes. “I’m fine. Go - get some sleep. I’ll check on you in a couple of hours.” The brothers exchanged a glance, then nodded at the realtor and headed up the stairs. Macy stared back down into her coffee cup and bit her lip. “I’m fine - really.”
True to her word, three hours later Macy stood in the doorway to the guest room, watching the sleeping hunters. Dean lay partly on his stomach, one hand beneath his pillow. The blankets were pulled up to his shoulders and his bruised face was serene as he slept. Sam was on his side facing his brother, blankets tangled around his legs and half off the bed, and he twitched occasionally as he dreamed. God, you guys are so damned cute. Her gaze lingered on one in particular. Especially you… Sighing, she shook her head, stepped over to Sam’s bed and woke him, checking his response. She handed him two more painkillers and a glass of water, and repeated the process with Dean, who grumbled at her, but took the painkillers gratefully. She tiptoed softly out of the room after the hunters settled down and drifted back to sleep.
* * * * *
A muffled, broken sound woke him, and he lay in the dark for a few moments, trying to pinpoint the noise. It came again, faintly, from downstairs, and he realised it was someone crying. Throwing the blankets aside, he got out of bed, checked on his sleeping sibling, and headed soundlessly down the stairs. As he got to the living room, the sound got louder, and he hesitated in the doorway as he caught sight of Macy sitting at the dining table, head buried in her folded arms, sobbing brokenly. She jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and he sat down beside her and held out his arms.
“Oh, Sam.” Macy collapsed into the tall hunter’s arms and pressed her face against his tee shirt.
“Shh, Macy - it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Sam smiled wryly as he rocked the distraught girl, realising he had just used the same words he himself had been comforted by so many times in his young and hectic life. “It’s okay, Sammy - I’ve got you.” He heard a soft footfall, and looked up to see his big brother leaning in the doorway, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Dean’s bleary gaze intersected his sibling’s and he quirked an eyebrow at the girl. Sam shrugged slightly, and Dean scratched his shoulder, frowning for a moment before turning to search the room. He came back with a bottle of Scotch in his good hand and three glasses shoved inside his sling, and poured a stiff measure into each glass as the girl continued crying.
Gradually Macy quietened, and her sobs petered out into the occasional hiccup. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and slowly sat up, eyes downcast. A glass was pushed at her and she sipped at it, gasping a little as the neat spirit left a fiery trail across her tongue. “I - I’m sorry…I don’t know - why…”
“It’s okay.” Sam patted her shoulder. “It’s just a reaction, Macy. You’ve gone through a hell of a lot over the last two days - it’s perfectly normal.”
The girl sniffled, and curled her hands around her glass. “How do you guys do it, day after day?”
“It’s not that easy for us, sometimes, Macy - but it’s our job, and it’s been our job all our lives, so…” Dean shrugged as he swirled the spirit in his glass.
Macy gave the hunters a watery smile. “I don’t think I’d make a very good ghost-hunter.”
The elder brother grinned cheekily. “Guess you better stick to drug-busting, huh?” He chuckled, downed his Scotch, and re-filled the glass.
The realtor laughed softly, hiccupped, and took another sip of her drink. “We made a pretty good team, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we did.” Dean winked, and Sam grinned.
Macy put down her glass, and stretched out her hands, grasping the hand of each of the brothers. “Thank you - both of you. For - Casey - for - for…”
“It’s okay.” Sam squeezed her hand.
“You still owe me pancakes,” Dean observed.
“Dean!” The younger man sighed, and then scowled as his brother leaned across the table and smirked at the little realtor.
“You know, I can remember Sammy’s first hunt - there we were…”
“Dean - don’t go there!”
“…in this supposedly haunted house…”
“Dean, I swear - you say one more word and I’ll tell her about the rats!”
“Hey! Even Superman had kryptonite!”
“Dude - you’re comparing yourself to Superman? How long have you had these delusions?”
“Shut up! Anyway, there we were, in this haunted house, and Sammy…”
“DEAN!”
* * * * *
“What the hell?” The police chief stood stock still as he took in the sight in the doorway of the police station in the cold grey light of early morning.
Leroy Spence huddled in the doorway, bound, gagged, unconscious, and wearing nothing but his boxers. His pale skin bore mottled bruises and scratches, and dried blood ran down one leg and caked his granite face. Displayed prominently, pinned to his hip, was a large white envelope marked for the attention of the chief.
Bending down, the greying man unpinned the envelope, slit it open with a thick finger, and pulled out a wad of papers. The top page was a typewritten note addressed to him personally. He scanned the note, eyes narrowing and lips twisting in growing anger.
The note ran:
“Dear Chief Collins,
This is a very bad man. He has been dealing in drugs, and he is directly responsible for the murders of Clifford Brandenburg and Casey Johnson, as well as being indirectly involved with three other mysterious deaths in the tea factory on River Road. He also attempted to kill Macy Johnson when she found out about his illegal activities.
The location of the drug manufacturing plant is the Riley farm, two hours outside of town. There is a wire running along the ground across the inside of the gate, six inches from the cattle grid, and trips an alarm inside the farm house when a vehicle crosses the grid.
The drugs and manufacturing equipment are stored in the third shed from the house, and the key to the padlock is kept in the flour bin in the kitchen.
Please lock this bad man up so he never gets out again.
Signed,
The Drug Busters.”
The chief quickly scanned the other papers, finding contact names, dates, shipping schedules and other bits of information, obviously taken from the farm. The bound man groaned and stirred, and the police chief lifted his lip in a sneer. His booted foot lashed out and impacted on Leroy’s prominent backside, causing the captive to groan piteously. “You piece of shit! I knew you were dirty! I’m gonna hang your ass out to dry!”
* * * * *
The delicious smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee pulled him from sleep. Wincing slightly, he rolled out of bed and checked on his sleeping sibling, and then he quietly pulled on his jeans and headed downstairs. As he got closer to the kitchen, he heard the muted clatter of pots and pans, and a girl’s voice humming. He slapped his hand softly against his forehead as he recognised the Ghostbusters theme.
Macy glanced up as Dean appeared in the doorway, and she grinned in welcome as the dishevelled hunter headed for the bubbling coffee pot. “Morning.”
“Hey.” The hunter leaned against the cupboard as he sipped his coffee.
The girl glanced at him appraisingly. “I didn’t think you guys were ever going to wake up - it’s after 11am.”
Dean grunted, and peered at his watch in surprise. “Huh. Guess this is lunch instead of breakfast, then.” He finished his coffee and poured another, wrapping his hand around the cup to savour its warmth. “Oh - and just for the record? Slimer was an evil green son of a bitch. He deserved to be fried.”
“Well, I thought he was cute - especially in the sequel.” Macy smiled as she whisked eggs and milk in a bowl. “Where’s Sam?”
“Still in bed. The kid’s been through a lot in the past couple of days, so I didn’t want to wake him just yet.”
“M’awake…” A sleep-roughened voice mumbled from the doorway. Sam rubbed at his eyes, and Dean grinned faintly as the simple gesture reminded him of his brother as a child. Then Sam dropped his hands, and his big brother’s grin quickly turned into a frown as he moved across the floor in two long strides.
Dean grasped his brother’s arm and steered him to a chair, forcing the younger man to sit. He cupped Sam’s chin and turned his face to the light, checking the reaction of the psychic’s pupils. Sam endured the scrutiny, and then sighed as the hand dropped away.
“I’m fine, Dean - it’s just a headache.”
“Dude - seriously - you look like crap.” Dean tapped a finger against his chin, noting the dark circles under his brother’s eyes and the way Sam flinched a little when his eyes came in contact with strong light.
Sam shook his head, and pressed his fingertips to his temples, trying to massage away the persistent ache. He glanced up in surprise as a glass of water was placed in front of him, and Macy tipped out two Tylenol beside the glass. “Make it three.”
The realtor frowned slightly, and tipped another pill out of the bottle. “Delayed concussion?”
Dean shook his head as Sam took the pills and then pillowed his head on his folded arms. “Maybe - or maybe just beat to hell.” He rested his hand on the back of the younger man’s neck, and Sam relaxed under the familiar touch. He was asleep in minutes.
Macy stepped back into the kitchen to check the pan on the stove before returning to the two men. “Dean - maybe you guys should stay here another day. It’s no trouble, and you both could do with the rest. I’ll square things away with the motel manager about your room - he’s an old family friend - he’d do anything for me.”
The elder Winchester nodded briefly, his eyes on his sibling. “Thanks, Macy.”
The girl busied herself with the rest of breakfast, emerging a few minutes later with two plates. She slid the biggest helping toward the green-eyed hunter, and glanced at the shaggy head of the sleeper. “Should I…”
Dean pursed his lips, and then shook his brother gently. “Sammy.”
“Huh? Wha…” Raising his head, Sam blinked sleepily.
“Come on, dude - you gotta eat something. Then you can go back to sleep, okay? We’re not leaving till tomorrow.”
“All right.” Sam pushed himself upright and scrubbed his hands over his face. The tantalising smell of the meal in front of him made his mouth water, and he smiled as the girl placed a cup of tea beside his plate. “Thanks, Macy.”
“No problem - though tea might be better for you than coffee right now.”
Twenty minutes later, when his arms were wrapped around the toilet bowl and his brother held him upright while he heaved up the last of the delicious breakfast, he wondered wryly whether the coffee would have made any difference.
* * * * *
It was a tuneful humming that woke him, and his mouth quirked at the corners as he recognised the tune. The humming stopped, and the back of a sinewy hand pressed against his forehead.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Sam opened his eyes, blinking a little. The setting sun tinted the ceiling a dull flame colour, tinged with pink. His gaze moved sideways, to encounter his brother’s concerned face. “Hey,” he replied, his voice a little raspy after his bout of vomiting.
“Feeling better?” Dean shifted a little on the bed and pushed his brother’s hair away from his face.
“Yeah. What happened?”
“Delayed concussion. Man - I never know how that freaky head of yours is gonna react.” The elder man shook his head, and slid back a little as his brother sat up. “Take it easy there, dude - don’t rush it.”
“No - I’m okay.” Sam glanced up as Macy walked into the room and perched on Dean’s bed.
“Hey - look who’s awake!” The realtor smiled happily, and glanced from one man to the other. “I wanted to wait till Sam was awake, so I could tell you both at the same time - I have news.”
Dean grinned faintly. “What news?”
“I’ve been into town. It’s like an ant’s nest in there.” The little blonde drew her feet up and hugged her knees. “Chief Collins found our little present, and staged a raid on the Riley farm - caught Pete Riley in the act of making up another batch of drugs for shipment. Said he was acting on information provided by an anonymous source.”
“How did you know what he said?” Dean rubbed a hand along his jaw as the smile spread across Macy’s face.
“Because I’ve been down at the station making my statement to the chief, and he told me.” She raised a hand as the brothers exchanged a glance. “Don’t worry - I kept you guys out of it. And laughing boy’s not talking, either.”
“Huh! How come?”
“You broke his jaw, Dean. And anyway - the chief won’t believe anything he has to say. Pete Riley spilled his guts when they arrested him - turns out he wasn’t happy with the murders, but he was too scared of what Leroy would do if he tried to get out of the deal. Pete’s been singing his heart out down there.”
Sam took a deep breath. “So - it’s over.”
“Yup. And I fixed things with your room - I told Mac - that’s the motel owner - that Leroy got jealous because I was spending so much time with you guys, and he broke in and wrecked your room - which wasn’t really a lie.” Macy swung her feet to the floor and grinned at the two hunters. “Now - I’ve got dinner in the oven, so if you guys want to come downstairs, it’ll be ready in a little while. Unless you’re gonna hurl again, Sam.”
“No - I’m good. Sorry about this morning.”
The girl waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine - as long as you’re okay. So - roast chicken with all the trimmings in half an hour. I even have a bottle of wine to go with it.”
Dean grinned. “What’s the occasion?”
Macy turned at the door, and for a moment she lost her sunny smile. She gazed steadily at the two handsome men who had come so abruptly into her life, and turned it upside down in the space of two days. Briefly she glanced down at the floor, and then locked gazes with the older brother. “Justice.”
Nodding slowly, Dean watched the girl disappear down the stairs, and then he turned to find his little brother regarding him quietly. “That’s a good cause for celebration.”
“Yeah, it is.” Sam agreed solemnly and allowed his sibling to help him up.
* * * * *
The morning sun gleamed on the black Chevy and the small blue hatchback as they waited side by side in the parking area of the picnic spot known as lover’s leap. Their owners were at the top of the slope, partaking in a small memorial ceremony - the planting of a tree in remembrance of a lost loved one.
Sam cast a sideways glance at his sibling as he perched on the seat of the picnic table at the top of the rise. Dean sat on the table and swung his feet back and forth as he watched the petite realtor digging in the soil near the edge of the cleared area. A pot containing the small memorial sapling lay on the grass near her feet. The young psychic knotted his fingers together and bit his lip, and his elder brother caught the movement from the corner of his eye.
“What is it, Sam?”
“What? Nothing.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure, it’s nothing. That’s why you’re twitching.” He turned his head and pinned his brother with a look.
“It’s just - I was thinking…” Sam took a deep breath and gazed out over the river. “Do you think - we should plant a tree - for Dad?”
The older hunter’s eyes grew solemn. “Sammy - we don’t stay in one place long enough to tend a tree. And where would we plant it? Huh?”
“I don’t - maybe here? Maybe Macy…” Sam trailed off and stared at the ground, disappointment evident in the slump of his shoulders.
Dean watched his brother for a long moment, and then abruptly jumped down from the table. “Back in a minute.” He strode rapidly down the slope toward the waiting Impala.
Sam sighed, and watched Macy as she carefully eased the young plant out of the pot and placed it in the hole she had dug. He heard the soft thudding of Dean’s footsteps returning as Macy pushed the displaced soil around the tree and patted it down firmly. Something hard nudged his arm and he glanced up.
Silently, lips quirked into a faint smile, Dean held out a white plastic bag. Just poking through the top of the bag was the bright silvery green foliage of a young white oak tree.
“Dean? Where did you get this - when did you get this?” Sam’s hands reached out and wrapped around the pot as he gazed at his brother in astonishment.
The smile grew wider. “Macy got it for me yesterday while she was in town. I hid it in the trunk.”
“But how did you know…”
Dean chuckled softly, and gave Sam’s shoulder a gentle swat. “You think I don’t know my emo baby brother? Go on - plant the damned thing - Macy said she’d look after it for you - for us.”
Sam rose to his feet, his grateful smile lighting his face. He took a few steps toward where the realtor sat back on her heels, brushing the dirt from her hands onto the legs of her jeans, and then he stopped and turned partly back toward his sibling. “Dean - what would you have done if I hadn’t asked?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course you were gonna ask.” Dean waved his hand in a shooing motion. “Go on - go play in the dirt.” The green eyed hunter sat back on the table and watched as his brother dropped to his knees near the realtor, took the small spade from her hands and began to dig the hole for their dad’s tree. “Well, Dad, I don’t know what you’d think - but…” Hastily wiping a stray tear from his eyes, Dean cleared his throat and fastened his gaze on his sibling as Sam’s long-fingered hands eased the young tree from the pot and placed it reverently in the ground. “Miss you, Dad.”
Macy got to her feet and dusted off the legs of her jeans, and took the shovel from Sam as he stood up. He collected the empty plant pots, and they walked slowly back to where Dean waited.
“Will you guys be back this way again?” Macy rested a hand on the tall hunter’s forearm as she walked.
Sam smiled down at the petite girl. “Well - I don’t know - our job kinda takes us all over - you never know…”
Macy smiled sadly. “Your mouth is saying maybe, but your eyes are saying no. I think I’d better go with your eyes, huh?” She looked up at Dean as he slid from the table.
“All done?” At Sam’s nod, Dean tossed him the car keys and started for the parking area, the other two trailing silently behind him.
The realtor watched the men surreptitiously as they made their way down the slope. The guys seemed much improved for their extra rest. Dean had his arm out of the sling, although he still held it close to his body to minimise the movement in his shoulder. The bruises on his face were rapidly fading, and he moved across the slightly uneven ground with cat-like grace. Sam was still limping a little, but he didn’t need the crutches any more, and the nausea of the previous morning had vanished, along with the headache. She sighed gently as they reached the cars, and the two tall men looked down at her as she shoved her hands in her pockets, steeling herself to say farewell.
“Macy - thanks for - you know - putting us up, and everything.” Sam smiled gently.
“No problem - it was the least I could do after what you guys did for me - and for Casey.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah - well, it definitely ranks as one of the weirdest hunts we’ve ever been on.”
They fell silent, each thinking of the past few hectic days. The realtor lifted her head and stared out across the river, watching the play of sunlight and shadow. “So, it’s really over? All of it?”
Sam nodded. “We checked the factory before coming here. It’s clean. You can sell it and not have to worry about any of your potential buyers being hurt - or worse.” He pulled his jacket tighter as a light breeze sprang up. “As for the drug thing - well, it should be over. The bad guys are in custody, and it doesn’t sound like they’re getting out any time soon, if the gossip in town is anything to go by.”
“Yeah.” Dean glanced at his brother. “So - we’d better hit the road.”
“Well, then - I guess this is goodbye.” Macy looked up at the battered green-eyed hunter, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Yeah, I guess it is.” Dean smiled crookedly at the plucky little realtor as she moved into his arms. He bent his head, and she kissed him gently on the lips, and hugged him warmly. Stepping back, she patted his uninjured shoulder and smiled, and then she turned to Sam.
Macy stepped into the circle of Sam’s arms and reached up, lacing her hands behind his head as he bent to kiss her. Her lips crushed his, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she pressed her body against him, driving him back against the car. Sam grunted in surprise as his back hit the Impala, and then he lost himself in the kiss as his senses went wild.
Dean’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the kiss grew more passionate with each passing moment. He coughed a few times, and cleared his throat, but the pair remained oblivious to anything except each other’s bodies. Hands roamed, tongues caressed, and breaths quickened as the kiss continued.
“Oh, Jeez - get a room,” Dean finally groaned, unable to take the spectacle any longer. Opening the car door, he dropped onto the passenger seat and tried to fold his arms, wincing as his shoulder protested the movement. “Sam, we’re burning daylight, here!”
Reluctantly the would-be lovers parted, breathing heavily as they gazed at each other.
“Well, goodbye, Sam. Take care.”
“Goodbye, Macy. You, too.” Staggering slightly, the young hunter made his way to the driver’s side and settled in behind the wheel. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and pulled away from the picnic area, waving a hand in farewell as the big car hit the road and headed out to the highway.
A few miles down the road, Sam became aware of an intense scrutiny from his silent passenger. Shooting a glance from the corner of his eyes, he raised his brows in surprise. “Something wrong, Dean?”
The older sibling scowled. “You might want to…” Dean pantomimed wiping his mouth.
Sam pressed the back of his hand to his lips, and flushed slightly as his hand came away with a bright pink smear on the skin. Grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket, he hastily wiped the lipstick off and cleared his throat, concentrating once again on the road.
But Dean wasn’t through. “Oh, and you might want to…” Gesturing to the top of Sam’s head, he made his meaning clear.
Coughing slightly in embarrassment, Sam raked his fingers through his hair, trying to restore order to his mussed up locks. “Anything else?”
“No, that about covers it.”
“Dean, are you pissed at me?”
“No, why should I be?”
“No reason that I can see, unless it was what happened back there.”
“No - I’m not pissed at you.”
“All right.”
“Okay, then.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The silence stretched on.
Sam sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “You know, if you’re pissed about that kiss…”
“I’m not pissed at anything.”
“Right.”
“Fine.” Dean sniffed, and turned to look out at the passing scenery.
“That was your fault, by the way.”
Turning his head, Dean regarded his faintly grinning sibling. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
Sam shrugged. “That kiss - that was your fault. In a way.”
“Dude - what have you been sniffing?”
“Nettle.” Sam’s dimples deepened, as his grin got wider.
“What?” Frowning, Dean rolled his eyes. “What do you mean - nettle?”
“Dean - how can you know so much about hunting, and not know crap about herbs and their uses? As well as warding off spirits, nettle is used for - promoting lust.”
The older brother’s jaw dropped. “Lust?”
“Yeah.” Sam chuckled. “Seriously, dude - you hung a herb around my neck that inspires lust.”
“Obviously wasn’t very strong, then,” Dean muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nuthin’.”
“Well - fine.” Sam’s lips twisted as he shot his brother a dubious look before turning back to the road.
“Fine.” Dean squirmed on the seat, trying to get comfortable.
“You all right?” Sam glanced over in concern.
“Yes, I’m okay - quit fussing over me!”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
A few miles further down the road, Dean reached over and flipped open the glove compartment. He found a small cardboard box and opened the lid, taking out a small, cylindrical metal device with a tiny electrical wire running from one end. Twirling it between his fingers, he watched his sibling from the corners of his eyes.
Sam flicked another glance at his brother, and his gaze lingered for a few seconds on the device between Dean’s long fingers. He could not keep down a nervous gulp as he wondered what the thing was for. Finally his curiosity got the better of him. “Uh, Dean - what - um - what is that?”
“What, this?” Dean twirled the device around and around, holding it up to the sunlight. “GPS tracker - for your ass.” He flung out a hand to grab the dashboard as the Impala swerved suddenly.
“It’s a WHAT?” Sam’s jaw dropped. Dean’s hand grabbed the steering wheel, bringing the car back to the right side of the road.
“Hey, mind on the job, there, Sammy.”
Sam hurriedly pulled off the highway and stopped the car. He turned and held up his hands, shock twisting his handsome features. “Dean - you can’t - I - you’re joking, right - I mean - you’ve gotta be joking…”
Dean shook his head sorrowfully. “Sam, you’ve left me no choice. I can’t keep going through this Houdini act you keep pulling on me - it’s just too damned stressful. I warned you I’d do it.”
Sam laughed nervously. “Yeah, but - you can’t be serious - you’re not gonna…” His face paled as his brother looked steadily at him.
“Bobby knows a doc who can do the operation under a local - I’ll get some cash together to pay for his services - we’ll take a couple of days off while you recover - ‘cause the doc says you won’t be able to sit down very well for a day or so.”
Facing back toward the road, Sam gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He shot one last, disbelieving look at his brother. And the sinister looking electronic device in his brother’s hand. “You - you’ve already looked into it?”
Dean clenched his teeth to keep from laughing out loud at the horrified expression on his little brother’s face. He didn’t think Sam’s eyes could get any bigger as the younger man alternated his gaze between the road and the small metal cylinder. Leaning forward slightly, Dean added the final touch. He laid a hand on his sibling’s shoulder. “I’ll get you a cushion for the car.”
Sam’s entire body froze, muscles going as taut as a bowstring. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Clearing his throat, he finally blurted out, “You’re not putting that thing in my ass!”
Dean’s chest hitched with suppressed laughter. Sam sounded all of eleven years old, the way he did as a kid before his voice had broken. Finally Dean couldn’t hold it in any longer and collapsed against the passenger door, roaring with laughter.
Sam stared at his brother, and a dull red flush crept across his face as he realised he’d been had - he just couldn’t work out how. “What’s so damned funny!”
Dean only laughed harder, tears running down his reddening cheeks. “Oh, dude - your face…” He tossed the offending item at his brother, who caught it on reflex, then dropped it as if it were red-hot. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he retrieved the device and held it up again. “It’s a suppressor - for the radio. Cuts out the static noise from the engine. I got it from that little car parts shop in town the other day.”
A muscle twitched in Sam’s cheek as he clenched his jaw and pinned his sibling with a murderous glare.
Dean shook his head and straightened up, flipping the glove compartment open and tossing the suppressor back inside. “Man, how can you be such a geek about weird stuff, and not know crap about cars?”
“You - are a friggin’ - ass!” Sam gritted. Starting the big car moving again, he clamped his hands on the wheel and pointedly ignored his still laughing brother.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Sammy?”
“You are so dead! This means war!”
“Bring it on, bitch!”
“You started it, jerk! Again!”
“Oh, yeah!”
End
Previous
Hope you enjoy - Resort Bréagadóir is next on the list for posting.
Jules
Epilogue
“Ow! Jeez - mmmmm - ohh - mmm…”
“Stop squirming!”
“Ow, ow, ow! Ohhhh - son of a bitch!”
“Almost done - stop being such a baby.”
“God - you’re no freakin’ Florence Nightingale - ahhhhhh! Son of a…”
“All right - we’re done.”
“Jeez - she freakin’ salts me - now you’re tryin’ to freakin’ burn me!” Dean’s fists clenched against the surface of the table.
Sighing, Sam dropped the bloodstained cloth into the bowl of antiseptic wash, and gently applied a gauze dressing over the worst of his brother’s wounds. The worst of the external damage had been to Dean’s shoulder and upper back, where the rock salt had peppered his skin with tiny holes. Sam secured the ends of the gauze pad with surgical tape, and then sat back, pulling at his lower lip and eyeing his brother speculatively.
Dean turned his head, met his sibling’s gaze, and groaned, dropping his head onto his outstretched arms. “Ah, jeez…”
“I’ve gotta check, Dean.”
“Oh, man…” Sitting up straight in the chair, Dean raised his arms slightly and hissed as Sam felt along his ribcage. “Jeez…”
“Is it a sharp pain, or more like an ache?”
“An - ahhh - ache…”
“All right - well - you were lucky, big brother. They’re just bruised - not fractured.”
“Lucky - dude, you’ve got a weird definition of luck.” The elder man winced as his brother helped him pull a fresh tee shirt on, and then he pointed to the gauze pad taped to Sam’s forehead. “How come you get doctored by the cute chick, and I get stuck with you?”
“So, you think she’s cute?” The psychic grinned as he pulled a sling from the first aid kit and unfolded it.
“Well, yeah - in a fluffy kinda way.” Dean smirked, ducking as Sam took a swing at his head. “Hey! Injured, here!”
“Dean - you bitched so much about her shooting you, she figured you didn’t want her help. She’s gone upstairs to take a shower.” Sam frowned down at his brother as he slipped the sling over Dean’s head and helped him settle his left arm comfortably inside it. “Tell me you left her some hot water.”
Dean squirmed uncomfortably, then shot a glance at the ceiling of the dining room as a faint shriek sounded from upstairs. “Yeah - I left some…” He rolled his wounded shoulder carefully as Sam adjusted the sling and made sure the knot was resting comfortably behind his neck.
The younger man dropped onto the chair by his sibling and sighed, running his hands through his hair. He glanced up curiously as he felt a tap on his arm, and encountered Dean’s stern gaze. “What?”
“Your turn. Let me see your eyes.” Dean grasped Sam’s chin with his good hand and turned his brother’s face to the light to check his pupils. “Headache?”
“Yeah - not bad, though. Visions hurt worse.”
“You feel sick? Blurred vision? Any trouble breathing?” The elder’s gaze fastened on the faint bruises on his sibling’s throat.
“No, I’m okay.” Sam darted a glance at his brother. “So - does that mean I’m not grounded any more?”
“Hell, no - you’re still grounded.” Dean scowled as he dropped his hand.
Sam spread his hands. “Dean…”
The elder Winchester reached out and grabbed the back of his brother’s neck. “Dammit, Sammy - I just got you back after the last time! Going out there alone to contact that spirit - without me to watch your back - what the hell were you thinking?”
The psychic dropped his gaze as he saw the worry in his brother’s eyes. “I - I’m sorry - I didn’t think…”
“No, you didn’t.” Dean sighed, and shook his head. “I don’t know what goes on in that freaky head of yours sometimes. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“Yeah, well - don’t you go hitting on girls whose boyfriend is the local cop - and a murderer.” Sam’s intent gaze pinned his brother.
“Yeah, well…” The older man rolled his eyes and let his hand drop.
Sam snorted as his brother sat back. “And you said it would be an easy hunt. Just a simple salt and burn, I believe were your exact words.”
“Well, it was.”
“What!”
Dean shrugged his good shoulder as he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. “It was a simple salt and burn - at least, Clifford’s was. So I was right - again.”
Sam stared at his brother in disbelief, then he shook his head and grinned faintly. “Whatever, man.”
Macy stopped just inside the doorway and watched the battered hunters for a moment. Their faces turned toward her, and she frowned at the elder. “Thanks for leaving me some hot water, Dean.”
The green-eyed man rubbed the back of his neck and grinned ruefully. “No problem.”
The realtor pushed up the sleeves of her loose sweater and disappeared into the kitchen, and soon the smell of fresh coffee filled the room. Macy returned with a pot of coffee and a plate of cookies, and smiled as she saw the boys’ eyes light up at the sight of the home made treats. “Can’t take credit for these, guys. My neighbour bakes them for me.”
Dean studied the girl as he poured himself a cup of coffee. The petite blonde looked pale, and dark circles ringed her eyes. He pursed his lips, snatched two cookies off the plate right from under his brother’s hand, and grinned as Sam shot him a dark look. “Macy - why don’t you get some sleep?”
The girl shook her head and cradled her coffee cup in her hands. “I don’t feel much like sleeping. You guys go ahead.” She took a sip of the strong brew, and sighed. “I made up the guest room - it’s the first door on the right from the top of the stairs.”
The elder brother nodded his thanks and gestured to his sibling. “Uh - have you got an alarm or something? I need to wake him up every couple of hours.”
Macy tilted her head curiously. “Concussion?”
“Dean - I told you I was fine…”
“He was feeling sick when he came to, but it passed. He could have a delayed reaction.” The girl put a finger to her lips. “But you need to rest, too, Dean. I’ll check on Sam.”
“I told you…” The young hunter began.
“You sure? ‘Cause if you’re too tired…” Dean raised an eyebrow at the girl as his brother let out an annoyed huff.
Macy smiled. “No - I’d be happy to. I’m not tired - really. I think I’m too wired to sleep.” She waved at the first aid kit. “Painkillers in there too, guys. You’d both better take some before you go upstairs.”
Dean twisted the cap off the bottle of Tylenol, passed two of the painkillers to Sam, then palmed two for himself and washed them down with the last of his coffee. Putting his empty cup back on the tray, he tapped Sam’s arm with the back of his hand and got to his feet, waiting for his sibling to grab his crutches and start toward the stairs. He turned in the doorway, and Sam stopped a few feet away, looking back. “Macy - you okay?”
Macy smiled softly at the concern evident in the wide green eyes. “I’m fine. Go - get some sleep. I’ll check on you in a couple of hours.” The brothers exchanged a glance, then nodded at the realtor and headed up the stairs. Macy stared back down into her coffee cup and bit her lip. “I’m fine - really.”
True to her word, three hours later Macy stood in the doorway to the guest room, watching the sleeping hunters. Dean lay partly on his stomach, one hand beneath his pillow. The blankets were pulled up to his shoulders and his bruised face was serene as he slept. Sam was on his side facing his brother, blankets tangled around his legs and half off the bed, and he twitched occasionally as he dreamed. God, you guys are so damned cute. Her gaze lingered on one in particular. Especially you… Sighing, she shook her head, stepped over to Sam’s bed and woke him, checking his response. She handed him two more painkillers and a glass of water, and repeated the process with Dean, who grumbled at her, but took the painkillers gratefully. She tiptoed softly out of the room after the hunters settled down and drifted back to sleep.
* * * * *
A muffled, broken sound woke him, and he lay in the dark for a few moments, trying to pinpoint the noise. It came again, faintly, from downstairs, and he realised it was someone crying. Throwing the blankets aside, he got out of bed, checked on his sleeping sibling, and headed soundlessly down the stairs. As he got to the living room, the sound got louder, and he hesitated in the doorway as he caught sight of Macy sitting at the dining table, head buried in her folded arms, sobbing brokenly. She jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and he sat down beside her and held out his arms.
“Oh, Sam.” Macy collapsed into the tall hunter’s arms and pressed her face against his tee shirt.
“Shh, Macy - it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Sam smiled wryly as he rocked the distraught girl, realising he had just used the same words he himself had been comforted by so many times in his young and hectic life. “It’s okay, Sammy - I’ve got you.” He heard a soft footfall, and looked up to see his big brother leaning in the doorway, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Dean’s bleary gaze intersected his sibling’s and he quirked an eyebrow at the girl. Sam shrugged slightly, and Dean scratched his shoulder, frowning for a moment before turning to search the room. He came back with a bottle of Scotch in his good hand and three glasses shoved inside his sling, and poured a stiff measure into each glass as the girl continued crying.
Gradually Macy quietened, and her sobs petered out into the occasional hiccup. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and slowly sat up, eyes downcast. A glass was pushed at her and she sipped at it, gasping a little as the neat spirit left a fiery trail across her tongue. “I - I’m sorry…I don’t know - why…”
“It’s okay.” Sam patted her shoulder. “It’s just a reaction, Macy. You’ve gone through a hell of a lot over the last two days - it’s perfectly normal.”
The girl sniffled, and curled her hands around her glass. “How do you guys do it, day after day?”
“It’s not that easy for us, sometimes, Macy - but it’s our job, and it’s been our job all our lives, so…” Dean shrugged as he swirled the spirit in his glass.
Macy gave the hunters a watery smile. “I don’t think I’d make a very good ghost-hunter.”
The elder brother grinned cheekily. “Guess you better stick to drug-busting, huh?” He chuckled, downed his Scotch, and re-filled the glass.
The realtor laughed softly, hiccupped, and took another sip of her drink. “We made a pretty good team, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we did.” Dean winked, and Sam grinned.
Macy put down her glass, and stretched out her hands, grasping the hand of each of the brothers. “Thank you - both of you. For - Casey - for - for…”
“It’s okay.” Sam squeezed her hand.
“You still owe me pancakes,” Dean observed.
“Dean!” The younger man sighed, and then scowled as his brother leaned across the table and smirked at the little realtor.
“You know, I can remember Sammy’s first hunt - there we were…”
“Dean - don’t go there!”
“…in this supposedly haunted house…”
“Dean, I swear - you say one more word and I’ll tell her about the rats!”
“Hey! Even Superman had kryptonite!”
“Dude - you’re comparing yourself to Superman? How long have you had these delusions?”
“Shut up! Anyway, there we were, in this haunted house, and Sammy…”
“DEAN!”
* * * * *
“What the hell?” The police chief stood stock still as he took in the sight in the doorway of the police station in the cold grey light of early morning.
Leroy Spence huddled in the doorway, bound, gagged, unconscious, and wearing nothing but his boxers. His pale skin bore mottled bruises and scratches, and dried blood ran down one leg and caked his granite face. Displayed prominently, pinned to his hip, was a large white envelope marked for the attention of the chief.
Bending down, the greying man unpinned the envelope, slit it open with a thick finger, and pulled out a wad of papers. The top page was a typewritten note addressed to him personally. He scanned the note, eyes narrowing and lips twisting in growing anger.
The note ran:
“Dear Chief Collins,
This is a very bad man. He has been dealing in drugs, and he is directly responsible for the murders of Clifford Brandenburg and Casey Johnson, as well as being indirectly involved with three other mysterious deaths in the tea factory on River Road. He also attempted to kill Macy Johnson when she found out about his illegal activities.
The location of the drug manufacturing plant is the Riley farm, two hours outside of town. There is a wire running along the ground across the inside of the gate, six inches from the cattle grid, and trips an alarm inside the farm house when a vehicle crosses the grid.
The drugs and manufacturing equipment are stored in the third shed from the house, and the key to the padlock is kept in the flour bin in the kitchen.
Please lock this bad man up so he never gets out again.
Signed,
The Drug Busters.”
The chief quickly scanned the other papers, finding contact names, dates, shipping schedules and other bits of information, obviously taken from the farm. The bound man groaned and stirred, and the police chief lifted his lip in a sneer. His booted foot lashed out and impacted on Leroy’s prominent backside, causing the captive to groan piteously. “You piece of shit! I knew you were dirty! I’m gonna hang your ass out to dry!”
* * * * *
The delicious smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee pulled him from sleep. Wincing slightly, he rolled out of bed and checked on his sleeping sibling, and then he quietly pulled on his jeans and headed downstairs. As he got closer to the kitchen, he heard the muted clatter of pots and pans, and a girl’s voice humming. He slapped his hand softly against his forehead as he recognised the Ghostbusters theme.
Macy glanced up as Dean appeared in the doorway, and she grinned in welcome as the dishevelled hunter headed for the bubbling coffee pot. “Morning.”
“Hey.” The hunter leaned against the cupboard as he sipped his coffee.
The girl glanced at him appraisingly. “I didn’t think you guys were ever going to wake up - it’s after 11am.”
Dean grunted, and peered at his watch in surprise. “Huh. Guess this is lunch instead of breakfast, then.” He finished his coffee and poured another, wrapping his hand around the cup to savour its warmth. “Oh - and just for the record? Slimer was an evil green son of a bitch. He deserved to be fried.”
“Well, I thought he was cute - especially in the sequel.” Macy smiled as she whisked eggs and milk in a bowl. “Where’s Sam?”
“Still in bed. The kid’s been through a lot in the past couple of days, so I didn’t want to wake him just yet.”
“M’awake…” A sleep-roughened voice mumbled from the doorway. Sam rubbed at his eyes, and Dean grinned faintly as the simple gesture reminded him of his brother as a child. Then Sam dropped his hands, and his big brother’s grin quickly turned into a frown as he moved across the floor in two long strides.
Dean grasped his brother’s arm and steered him to a chair, forcing the younger man to sit. He cupped Sam’s chin and turned his face to the light, checking the reaction of the psychic’s pupils. Sam endured the scrutiny, and then sighed as the hand dropped away.
“I’m fine, Dean - it’s just a headache.”
“Dude - seriously - you look like crap.” Dean tapped a finger against his chin, noting the dark circles under his brother’s eyes and the way Sam flinched a little when his eyes came in contact with strong light.
Sam shook his head, and pressed his fingertips to his temples, trying to massage away the persistent ache. He glanced up in surprise as a glass of water was placed in front of him, and Macy tipped out two Tylenol beside the glass. “Make it three.”
The realtor frowned slightly, and tipped another pill out of the bottle. “Delayed concussion?”
Dean shook his head as Sam took the pills and then pillowed his head on his folded arms. “Maybe - or maybe just beat to hell.” He rested his hand on the back of the younger man’s neck, and Sam relaxed under the familiar touch. He was asleep in minutes.
Macy stepped back into the kitchen to check the pan on the stove before returning to the two men. “Dean - maybe you guys should stay here another day. It’s no trouble, and you both could do with the rest. I’ll square things away with the motel manager about your room - he’s an old family friend - he’d do anything for me.”
The elder Winchester nodded briefly, his eyes on his sibling. “Thanks, Macy.”
The girl busied herself with the rest of breakfast, emerging a few minutes later with two plates. She slid the biggest helping toward the green-eyed hunter, and glanced at the shaggy head of the sleeper. “Should I…”
Dean pursed his lips, and then shook his brother gently. “Sammy.”
“Huh? Wha…” Raising his head, Sam blinked sleepily.
“Come on, dude - you gotta eat something. Then you can go back to sleep, okay? We’re not leaving till tomorrow.”
“All right.” Sam pushed himself upright and scrubbed his hands over his face. The tantalising smell of the meal in front of him made his mouth water, and he smiled as the girl placed a cup of tea beside his plate. “Thanks, Macy.”
“No problem - though tea might be better for you than coffee right now.”
Twenty minutes later, when his arms were wrapped around the toilet bowl and his brother held him upright while he heaved up the last of the delicious breakfast, he wondered wryly whether the coffee would have made any difference.
* * * * *
It was a tuneful humming that woke him, and his mouth quirked at the corners as he recognised the tune. The humming stopped, and the back of a sinewy hand pressed against his forehead.
“Hey, Sammy.”
Sam opened his eyes, blinking a little. The setting sun tinted the ceiling a dull flame colour, tinged with pink. His gaze moved sideways, to encounter his brother’s concerned face. “Hey,” he replied, his voice a little raspy after his bout of vomiting.
“Feeling better?” Dean shifted a little on the bed and pushed his brother’s hair away from his face.
“Yeah. What happened?”
“Delayed concussion. Man - I never know how that freaky head of yours is gonna react.” The elder man shook his head, and slid back a little as his brother sat up. “Take it easy there, dude - don’t rush it.”
“No - I’m okay.” Sam glanced up as Macy walked into the room and perched on Dean’s bed.
“Hey - look who’s awake!” The realtor smiled happily, and glanced from one man to the other. “I wanted to wait till Sam was awake, so I could tell you both at the same time - I have news.”
Dean grinned faintly. “What news?”
“I’ve been into town. It’s like an ant’s nest in there.” The little blonde drew her feet up and hugged her knees. “Chief Collins found our little present, and staged a raid on the Riley farm - caught Pete Riley in the act of making up another batch of drugs for shipment. Said he was acting on information provided by an anonymous source.”
“How did you know what he said?” Dean rubbed a hand along his jaw as the smile spread across Macy’s face.
“Because I’ve been down at the station making my statement to the chief, and he told me.” She raised a hand as the brothers exchanged a glance. “Don’t worry - I kept you guys out of it. And laughing boy’s not talking, either.”
“Huh! How come?”
“You broke his jaw, Dean. And anyway - the chief won’t believe anything he has to say. Pete Riley spilled his guts when they arrested him - turns out he wasn’t happy with the murders, but he was too scared of what Leroy would do if he tried to get out of the deal. Pete’s been singing his heart out down there.”
Sam took a deep breath. “So - it’s over.”
“Yup. And I fixed things with your room - I told Mac - that’s the motel owner - that Leroy got jealous because I was spending so much time with you guys, and he broke in and wrecked your room - which wasn’t really a lie.” Macy swung her feet to the floor and grinned at the two hunters. “Now - I’ve got dinner in the oven, so if you guys want to come downstairs, it’ll be ready in a little while. Unless you’re gonna hurl again, Sam.”
“No - I’m good. Sorry about this morning.”
The girl waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine - as long as you’re okay. So - roast chicken with all the trimmings in half an hour. I even have a bottle of wine to go with it.”
Dean grinned. “What’s the occasion?”
Macy turned at the door, and for a moment she lost her sunny smile. She gazed steadily at the two handsome men who had come so abruptly into her life, and turned it upside down in the space of two days. Briefly she glanced down at the floor, and then locked gazes with the older brother. “Justice.”
Nodding slowly, Dean watched the girl disappear down the stairs, and then he turned to find his little brother regarding him quietly. “That’s a good cause for celebration.”
“Yeah, it is.” Sam agreed solemnly and allowed his sibling to help him up.
* * * * *
The morning sun gleamed on the black Chevy and the small blue hatchback as they waited side by side in the parking area of the picnic spot known as lover’s leap. Their owners were at the top of the slope, partaking in a small memorial ceremony - the planting of a tree in remembrance of a lost loved one.
Sam cast a sideways glance at his sibling as he perched on the seat of the picnic table at the top of the rise. Dean sat on the table and swung his feet back and forth as he watched the petite realtor digging in the soil near the edge of the cleared area. A pot containing the small memorial sapling lay on the grass near her feet. The young psychic knotted his fingers together and bit his lip, and his elder brother caught the movement from the corner of his eye.
“What is it, Sam?”
“What? Nothing.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure, it’s nothing. That’s why you’re twitching.” He turned his head and pinned his brother with a look.
“It’s just - I was thinking…” Sam took a deep breath and gazed out over the river. “Do you think - we should plant a tree - for Dad?”
The older hunter’s eyes grew solemn. “Sammy - we don’t stay in one place long enough to tend a tree. And where would we plant it? Huh?”
“I don’t - maybe here? Maybe Macy…” Sam trailed off and stared at the ground, disappointment evident in the slump of his shoulders.
Dean watched his brother for a long moment, and then abruptly jumped down from the table. “Back in a minute.” He strode rapidly down the slope toward the waiting Impala.
Sam sighed, and watched Macy as she carefully eased the young plant out of the pot and placed it in the hole she had dug. He heard the soft thudding of Dean’s footsteps returning as Macy pushed the displaced soil around the tree and patted it down firmly. Something hard nudged his arm and he glanced up.
Silently, lips quirked into a faint smile, Dean held out a white plastic bag. Just poking through the top of the bag was the bright silvery green foliage of a young white oak tree.
“Dean? Where did you get this - when did you get this?” Sam’s hands reached out and wrapped around the pot as he gazed at his brother in astonishment.
The smile grew wider. “Macy got it for me yesterday while she was in town. I hid it in the trunk.”
“But how did you know…”
Dean chuckled softly, and gave Sam’s shoulder a gentle swat. “You think I don’t know my emo baby brother? Go on - plant the damned thing - Macy said she’d look after it for you - for us.”
Sam rose to his feet, his grateful smile lighting his face. He took a few steps toward where the realtor sat back on her heels, brushing the dirt from her hands onto the legs of her jeans, and then he stopped and turned partly back toward his sibling. “Dean - what would you have done if I hadn’t asked?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course you were gonna ask.” Dean waved his hand in a shooing motion. “Go on - go play in the dirt.” The green eyed hunter sat back on the table and watched as his brother dropped to his knees near the realtor, took the small spade from her hands and began to dig the hole for their dad’s tree. “Well, Dad, I don’t know what you’d think - but…” Hastily wiping a stray tear from his eyes, Dean cleared his throat and fastened his gaze on his sibling as Sam’s long-fingered hands eased the young tree from the pot and placed it reverently in the ground. “Miss you, Dad.”
Macy got to her feet and dusted off the legs of her jeans, and took the shovel from Sam as he stood up. He collected the empty plant pots, and they walked slowly back to where Dean waited.
“Will you guys be back this way again?” Macy rested a hand on the tall hunter’s forearm as she walked.
Sam smiled down at the petite girl. “Well - I don’t know - our job kinda takes us all over - you never know…”
Macy smiled sadly. “Your mouth is saying maybe, but your eyes are saying no. I think I’d better go with your eyes, huh?” She looked up at Dean as he slid from the table.
“All done?” At Sam’s nod, Dean tossed him the car keys and started for the parking area, the other two trailing silently behind him.
The realtor watched the men surreptitiously as they made their way down the slope. The guys seemed much improved for their extra rest. Dean had his arm out of the sling, although he still held it close to his body to minimise the movement in his shoulder. The bruises on his face were rapidly fading, and he moved across the slightly uneven ground with cat-like grace. Sam was still limping a little, but he didn’t need the crutches any more, and the nausea of the previous morning had vanished, along with the headache. She sighed gently as they reached the cars, and the two tall men looked down at her as she shoved her hands in her pockets, steeling herself to say farewell.
“Macy - thanks for - you know - putting us up, and everything.” Sam smiled gently.
“No problem - it was the least I could do after what you guys did for me - and for Casey.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah - well, it definitely ranks as one of the weirdest hunts we’ve ever been on.”
They fell silent, each thinking of the past few hectic days. The realtor lifted her head and stared out across the river, watching the play of sunlight and shadow. “So, it’s really over? All of it?”
Sam nodded. “We checked the factory before coming here. It’s clean. You can sell it and not have to worry about any of your potential buyers being hurt - or worse.” He pulled his jacket tighter as a light breeze sprang up. “As for the drug thing - well, it should be over. The bad guys are in custody, and it doesn’t sound like they’re getting out any time soon, if the gossip in town is anything to go by.”
“Yeah.” Dean glanced at his brother. “So - we’d better hit the road.”
“Well, then - I guess this is goodbye.” Macy looked up at the battered green-eyed hunter, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Yeah, I guess it is.” Dean smiled crookedly at the plucky little realtor as she moved into his arms. He bent his head, and she kissed him gently on the lips, and hugged him warmly. Stepping back, she patted his uninjured shoulder and smiled, and then she turned to Sam.
Macy stepped into the circle of Sam’s arms and reached up, lacing her hands behind his head as he bent to kiss her. Her lips crushed his, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she pressed her body against him, driving him back against the car. Sam grunted in surprise as his back hit the Impala, and then he lost himself in the kiss as his senses went wild.
Dean’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the kiss grew more passionate with each passing moment. He coughed a few times, and cleared his throat, but the pair remained oblivious to anything except each other’s bodies. Hands roamed, tongues caressed, and breaths quickened as the kiss continued.
“Oh, Jeez - get a room,” Dean finally groaned, unable to take the spectacle any longer. Opening the car door, he dropped onto the passenger seat and tried to fold his arms, wincing as his shoulder protested the movement. “Sam, we’re burning daylight, here!”
Reluctantly the would-be lovers parted, breathing heavily as they gazed at each other.
“Well, goodbye, Sam. Take care.”
“Goodbye, Macy. You, too.” Staggering slightly, the young hunter made his way to the driver’s side and settled in behind the wheel. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and pulled away from the picnic area, waving a hand in farewell as the big car hit the road and headed out to the highway.
A few miles down the road, Sam became aware of an intense scrutiny from his silent passenger. Shooting a glance from the corner of his eyes, he raised his brows in surprise. “Something wrong, Dean?”
The older sibling scowled. “You might want to…” Dean pantomimed wiping his mouth.
Sam pressed the back of his hand to his lips, and flushed slightly as his hand came away with a bright pink smear on the skin. Grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket, he hastily wiped the lipstick off and cleared his throat, concentrating once again on the road.
But Dean wasn’t through. “Oh, and you might want to…” Gesturing to the top of Sam’s head, he made his meaning clear.
Coughing slightly in embarrassment, Sam raked his fingers through his hair, trying to restore order to his mussed up locks. “Anything else?”
“No, that about covers it.”
“Dean, are you pissed at me?”
“No, why should I be?”
“No reason that I can see, unless it was what happened back there.”
“No - I’m not pissed at you.”
“All right.”
“Okay, then.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The silence stretched on.
Sam sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “You know, if you’re pissed about that kiss…”
“I’m not pissed at anything.”
“Right.”
“Fine.” Dean sniffed, and turned to look out at the passing scenery.
“That was your fault, by the way.”
Turning his head, Dean regarded his faintly grinning sibling. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
Sam shrugged. “That kiss - that was your fault. In a way.”
“Dude - what have you been sniffing?”
“Nettle.” Sam’s dimples deepened, as his grin got wider.
“What?” Frowning, Dean rolled his eyes. “What do you mean - nettle?”
“Dean - how can you know so much about hunting, and not know crap about herbs and their uses? As well as warding off spirits, nettle is used for - promoting lust.”
The older brother’s jaw dropped. “Lust?”
“Yeah.” Sam chuckled. “Seriously, dude - you hung a herb around my neck that inspires lust.”
“Obviously wasn’t very strong, then,” Dean muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nuthin’.”
“Well - fine.” Sam’s lips twisted as he shot his brother a dubious look before turning back to the road.
“Fine.” Dean squirmed on the seat, trying to get comfortable.
“You all right?” Sam glanced over in concern.
“Yes, I’m okay - quit fussing over me!”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
A few miles further down the road, Dean reached over and flipped open the glove compartment. He found a small cardboard box and opened the lid, taking out a small, cylindrical metal device with a tiny electrical wire running from one end. Twirling it between his fingers, he watched his sibling from the corners of his eyes.
Sam flicked another glance at his brother, and his gaze lingered for a few seconds on the device between Dean’s long fingers. He could not keep down a nervous gulp as he wondered what the thing was for. Finally his curiosity got the better of him. “Uh, Dean - what - um - what is that?”
“What, this?” Dean twirled the device around and around, holding it up to the sunlight. “GPS tracker - for your ass.” He flung out a hand to grab the dashboard as the Impala swerved suddenly.
“It’s a WHAT?” Sam’s jaw dropped. Dean’s hand grabbed the steering wheel, bringing the car back to the right side of the road.
“Hey, mind on the job, there, Sammy.”
Sam hurriedly pulled off the highway and stopped the car. He turned and held up his hands, shock twisting his handsome features. “Dean - you can’t - I - you’re joking, right - I mean - you’ve gotta be joking…”
Dean shook his head sorrowfully. “Sam, you’ve left me no choice. I can’t keep going through this Houdini act you keep pulling on me - it’s just too damned stressful. I warned you I’d do it.”
Sam laughed nervously. “Yeah, but - you can’t be serious - you’re not gonna…” His face paled as his brother looked steadily at him.
“Bobby knows a doc who can do the operation under a local - I’ll get some cash together to pay for his services - we’ll take a couple of days off while you recover - ‘cause the doc says you won’t be able to sit down very well for a day or so.”
Facing back toward the road, Sam gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He shot one last, disbelieving look at his brother. And the sinister looking electronic device in his brother’s hand. “You - you’ve already looked into it?”
Dean clenched his teeth to keep from laughing out loud at the horrified expression on his little brother’s face. He didn’t think Sam’s eyes could get any bigger as the younger man alternated his gaze between the road and the small metal cylinder. Leaning forward slightly, Dean added the final touch. He laid a hand on his sibling’s shoulder. “I’ll get you a cushion for the car.”
Sam’s entire body froze, muscles going as taut as a bowstring. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Clearing his throat, he finally blurted out, “You’re not putting that thing in my ass!”
Dean’s chest hitched with suppressed laughter. Sam sounded all of eleven years old, the way he did as a kid before his voice had broken. Finally Dean couldn’t hold it in any longer and collapsed against the passenger door, roaring with laughter.
Sam stared at his brother, and a dull red flush crept across his face as he realised he’d been had - he just couldn’t work out how. “What’s so damned funny!”
Dean only laughed harder, tears running down his reddening cheeks. “Oh, dude - your face…” He tossed the offending item at his brother, who caught it on reflex, then dropped it as if it were red-hot. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he retrieved the device and held it up again. “It’s a suppressor - for the radio. Cuts out the static noise from the engine. I got it from that little car parts shop in town the other day.”
A muscle twitched in Sam’s cheek as he clenched his jaw and pinned his sibling with a murderous glare.
Dean shook his head and straightened up, flipping the glove compartment open and tossing the suppressor back inside. “Man, how can you be such a geek about weird stuff, and not know crap about cars?”
“You - are a friggin’ - ass!” Sam gritted. Starting the big car moving again, he clamped his hands on the wheel and pointedly ignored his still laughing brother.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Sammy?”
“You are so dead! This means war!”
“Bring it on, bitch!”
“You started it, jerk! Again!”
“Oh, yeah!”
End
Previous