Base Camp - Part 5 Cowboy!fic
Title: Base Camp
Author: Saberivojo
Characters: Sam and Dean
Genre: Gen - PG 13
Summary: The boys are trailing their father. Horses and talk of cowboy talk ensues. Just a wee chapter but more will be forthcoming.
Cowboy!Winchesters. To everyone who has been following this long drawn out affair, I am thinking one more chappy. Thank you all for putting up with the length of time between posting. I will post them all together once it gets done. Thanks to the amazing put upon roque_clasique roque who has betaed this baby from the beginning. I blame her though, she is the one who wanted limping Dean on a horse
Follow up to Put Away Wet Cowboy!AU Put Away Wet (part 1) http://saberivojo.livejournal.com/26548.html#cutid1, Finding Sam (part 2) http:///saberivojo.livejournal.com/27860.html and Heading Home (Part 3) http://saberivojo.livejournal.com/28198.html. Revelations (part 4) saberivojo.livejournal.com/34329.html#cutid1 You should read those before this.
They ride hard. They barely talk. It takes three days to make it to the base of the small craggy mountain that’s John Winchester’s last known whereabouts. They make camp and untack the horses. Dean leads Mac to a nearby stream. The stallion plunges his muzzle deep in water and then snorts at the feeling. Dean can’t help but grin when Mac starts splashing, big hooves pawing playfully in the water. Sam stands on the bank with Howard who is content to drop his nose daintily into the stream but sucks deep mouthfuls.
For a moment Dean tries to pretend it’s just him and Sammy out on a regular hunt, like the year before Sam went to college and there was a rogue bear slicing and dicing up cattle. Pa had been out of town and Bobby had had his hands full running the ranch so it had fallen on the boys to hunt it. It had been two weeks of tracking and riding. He and Sam had acted like fools - free from their father’s work ethic and rules. But when they found that damn bear it had been all business then. They had worked like a team and took the bear out without a scratch on either one of them. Sam had been barely 17 but he had handled himself like the hunter he was been raised to be. In an unusual turn of events, even Pa had been proud, pounding Sam on the back and tipping his hat in Dean’s direction. Dean hopes to hell this hunt has the same outcome.
Dean leads Mac back to camp and Sam follows with Howard. They rub both horses down, run hands down their legs checking for heat or swelling and both do a careful check of hooves. Dean can hear his father’s mantra.
No hoof, no horse, Dean.
Satisfied that both horses are sound and doing well, Dean turns out Mac. Sam does the same for Howard. Mac won’t go anywhere and Howard won’t leave Mac so both horses free graze just outside of the fire’s glow.
Dean settles up against his saddle, stretches out his bad leg with a hiss. Sam is too smart to mention it but he pours Dean a cup of coffee liberally laced with good Irish whiskey. Dean takes it gratefully and shifts his weight. Sam settles by the fire and pokes it with a long stick, making the sparks swirl and spiral upward on the blast of heat.
“So, Dean.” Sam starts. “Pa’s last contact with Bobby said that he had a handle on The Colt. He thought it might be up in these mountains. Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you? Why would someone take a gun that could kill anything and hide it up there?” Sam nods toward the low mountains. They probably have at least a half-day climb. But it looks rideable from where Dean is sitting. The thought of having to leave Mac behind is something that Dean plain refuses to deal with.
“Hide it maybe?” Dean ventures then rolls his shoulders, feeling a lot older than he is. “I mean, if you had a gun that could do what this gun is supposed to be able to do, don’t you think you would want to keep it for yourself?”
Sam nods tightly, and his shaggy head bows in the shadows of the fire. He makes a tsking sound, something that Dean associates only with Sam. It’s part recrimination, part pissed off and is laced with a tad of self-righteousness that Sam has always had the market on.
“Dean, this gun, this whole situation…” Sam starts and then lets it trail off. Dean watches the set of Sam’s shoulders, sees his brother bounce his knees in agitation. They may be sitting by a campfire but the shadows don’t hold any secrets for Dean.
The kid is an open book.
True to form, Sam doesn’t wait too long before he starts up again. He’s had a couple of days to move from simmer to boil and Sam is usually on a banked fire when it comes to their father anyway.
Finally, almost anticlimactically Sam stands abruptly, drops the stick and brushes his hands against denim. “Dean, doesn’t this just piss the hell out of you? Pa has been living this secret life and we never knew? We’ve got magical guns and silver and consecrated rounds. We’re carrying salt.” He pauses. “A seasoning for chrissakes. There are werewolves and vampires and ghosts. There are fuckin’ demons. Demons, Dean! Doesn’t this strike you as buckets of crazy?”
Dean presses the heel of his palm to his eye. He thinks he might be getting a headache.
“Now Pa’s gone and we’re just tryin’ to get up to snuff so that we can maybe, just maybe help him out? Wouldn’t it have been better for him to fill us in before? You know, before all of this?” Sam throws his hands out, and they slap loudly against his thighs on the return trip back. It is a gesture that reflects both his anger and frustration.
“I dunno, Sam. “ Dean is tired. He and Sam have done this dance before. Well, not exactly the same thing. The steps are familiar but the situation has changed a bit. However, move a word or two around and forget about the supernatural stuff and really this is the same conversation that they’ve had for years.
“The old man does what he does for a reason.” Dean tries to make it sound final. Tries to put some older brother growl in it. Sometimes that’s the only way to shut Sam down.
Sam snorts and throws an angry glance at Dean. Dean can feel him starting to get a head of steam up about it.
“You mean you’re okay with this?” Sam curls his lip, he looms over his brother but Dean doesn’t rise to the bait. Not physically or figuratively. Dean remains calm, hands curled around his coffee cup. He keeps his voice as quite as possible. Big brother voice soothing little brother. This too is part of the game.
“No, Sam. Not okay with it. Why do you think we’re trailing after him like hound dogs? You said it before, he doesn’t want us with him. He doesn’t want me with him.” The last sentence holds the tiny edge of anger and the hint of ache. It is barely imperceptible but there. But it doesn’t register with Sam. That too is typical of his brother. Sam can be intuitive as hell but sometimes he can also be dumber than a log.
Dean doesn’t feel it’s necessary to bring it to his attention.
Sam’s voice rises a bit. “Dean, you? He doesn’t want you with him? It’s me he doesn’t want. I’m the one he’s pissed at. This is the same old bullshit we’ve been dealing with forever. I mean, this hunting for Pa…?” Sam shakes his head and purses his lips. It is not quite a sneer but it is close. “Truth is, when we find Pa, I don’t even know if he’s gonna wanna see me.”
Dean isn’t quite sure what to make of Sam’s head tilt. The roll of his eyes. They are Winchesters after all they don’t talk about stuff like this. Sam’s hurt and angry too but that’s his default. Part of Dean just wants to tell him to shut up and stop acting like a 12-year-old girl. But a bigger part understands. Sammy and Pa’s last fight had been memorable. And while no one walked away bloody, Sam had walked away.
Pa had let him go and Dean hadn’t stopped him.
Dean considers it for a moment.
“Don’t worry, little brother. With both of us buckin’ him and ignoring his orders he is likely to tear us both new ones. Since I’m the oldest, I reckon I may be drawn and quartered as well. “ Dean allows a smile to play on his face. “No, he isn’t gonna want to see either one of us. But we are stronger together. He just has to realize that. We have to make him realize that.”
Sam laughs but it is a hollow, mirthless sound.
“Since when does he have to realize anything Dean. We’re his kids. He’s the boss, we follow his orders without question. The first time one of us steps out of line, he’s all over us like spots on a heifer. I am so past this shit.”
Yeah right Sammy.
Sam settles at the fire and turns his back to Dean, a not so subtle sign that he really is done with talking. Dean smiles a little to himself, because Sam is the one who started the conversation and Sam is the one who wants to have the last word.
The shit he puts up with from his brother.
Dean leans back against his saddle, feels the leather creak with his weight. The coffee has cooled a bit but the whisky still burns as he takes another sip. He watches as his little brother makes a spot for himself at the fire. Dean notices that Sam keeps his gun hand free and slides his bowie under the slicker that serves as his pillow. Yeah, his brother might still be a kid, but he’s a Winchester through and through. Sam isn’t taking any chances.
Good boy.
He has tonight to think about a game plan, what will work best for him and Sam, because tomorrow? Well, Dean is not really sure what tomorrow will bring, but if he’s played his cards right he figures they might just meet up with their father.
Part 6
saberivojo.livejournal.com/52855.html#cutid1
Author: Saberivojo
Characters: Sam and Dean
Genre: Gen - PG 13
Summary: The boys are trailing their father. Horses and talk of cowboy talk ensues. Just a wee chapter but more will be forthcoming.
Cowboy!Winchesters. To everyone who has been following this long drawn out affair, I am thinking one more chappy. Thank you all for putting up with the length of time between posting. I will post them all together once it gets done. Thanks to the amazing put upon roque_clasique roque who has betaed this baby from the beginning. I blame her though, she is the one who wanted limping Dean on a horse
Follow up to Put Away Wet Cowboy!AU Put Away Wet (part 1) http://saberivojo.livejournal.com/26548.html#cutid1, Finding Sam (part 2) http:///saberivojo.livejournal.com/27860.html and Heading Home (Part 3) http://saberivojo.livejournal.com/28198.html. Revelations (part 4) saberivojo.livejournal.com/34329.html#cutid1 You should read those before this.
They ride hard. They barely talk. It takes three days to make it to the base of the small craggy mountain that’s John Winchester’s last known whereabouts. They make camp and untack the horses. Dean leads Mac to a nearby stream. The stallion plunges his muzzle deep in water and then snorts at the feeling. Dean can’t help but grin when Mac starts splashing, big hooves pawing playfully in the water. Sam stands on the bank with Howard who is content to drop his nose daintily into the stream but sucks deep mouthfuls.
For a moment Dean tries to pretend it’s just him and Sammy out on a regular hunt, like the year before Sam went to college and there was a rogue bear slicing and dicing up cattle. Pa had been out of town and Bobby had had his hands full running the ranch so it had fallen on the boys to hunt it. It had been two weeks of tracking and riding. He and Sam had acted like fools - free from their father’s work ethic and rules. But when they found that damn bear it had been all business then. They had worked like a team and took the bear out without a scratch on either one of them. Sam had been barely 17 but he had handled himself like the hunter he was been raised to be. In an unusual turn of events, even Pa had been proud, pounding Sam on the back and tipping his hat in Dean’s direction. Dean hopes to hell this hunt has the same outcome.
Dean leads Mac back to camp and Sam follows with Howard. They rub both horses down, run hands down their legs checking for heat or swelling and both do a careful check of hooves. Dean can hear his father’s mantra.
No hoof, no horse, Dean.
Satisfied that both horses are sound and doing well, Dean turns out Mac. Sam does the same for Howard. Mac won’t go anywhere and Howard won’t leave Mac so both horses free graze just outside of the fire’s glow.
Dean settles up against his saddle, stretches out his bad leg with a hiss. Sam is too smart to mention it but he pours Dean a cup of coffee liberally laced with good Irish whiskey. Dean takes it gratefully and shifts his weight. Sam settles by the fire and pokes it with a long stick, making the sparks swirl and spiral upward on the blast of heat.
“So, Dean.” Sam starts. “Pa’s last contact with Bobby said that he had a handle on The Colt. He thought it might be up in these mountains. Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you? Why would someone take a gun that could kill anything and hide it up there?” Sam nods toward the low mountains. They probably have at least a half-day climb. But it looks rideable from where Dean is sitting. The thought of having to leave Mac behind is something that Dean plain refuses to deal with.
“Hide it maybe?” Dean ventures then rolls his shoulders, feeling a lot older than he is. “I mean, if you had a gun that could do what this gun is supposed to be able to do, don’t you think you would want to keep it for yourself?”
Sam nods tightly, and his shaggy head bows in the shadows of the fire. He makes a tsking sound, something that Dean associates only with Sam. It’s part recrimination, part pissed off and is laced with a tad of self-righteousness that Sam has always had the market on.
“Dean, this gun, this whole situation…” Sam starts and then lets it trail off. Dean watches the set of Sam’s shoulders, sees his brother bounce his knees in agitation. They may be sitting by a campfire but the shadows don’t hold any secrets for Dean.
The kid is an open book.
True to form, Sam doesn’t wait too long before he starts up again. He’s had a couple of days to move from simmer to boil and Sam is usually on a banked fire when it comes to their father anyway.
Finally, almost anticlimactically Sam stands abruptly, drops the stick and brushes his hands against denim. “Dean, doesn’t this just piss the hell out of you? Pa has been living this secret life and we never knew? We’ve got magical guns and silver and consecrated rounds. We’re carrying salt.” He pauses. “A seasoning for chrissakes. There are werewolves and vampires and ghosts. There are fuckin’ demons. Demons, Dean! Doesn’t this strike you as buckets of crazy?”
Dean presses the heel of his palm to his eye. He thinks he might be getting a headache.
“Now Pa’s gone and we’re just tryin’ to get up to snuff so that we can maybe, just maybe help him out? Wouldn’t it have been better for him to fill us in before? You know, before all of this?” Sam throws his hands out, and they slap loudly against his thighs on the return trip back. It is a gesture that reflects both his anger and frustration.
“I dunno, Sam. “ Dean is tired. He and Sam have done this dance before. Well, not exactly the same thing. The steps are familiar but the situation has changed a bit. However, move a word or two around and forget about the supernatural stuff and really this is the same conversation that they’ve had for years.
“The old man does what he does for a reason.” Dean tries to make it sound final. Tries to put some older brother growl in it. Sometimes that’s the only way to shut Sam down.
Sam snorts and throws an angry glance at Dean. Dean can feel him starting to get a head of steam up about it.
“You mean you’re okay with this?” Sam curls his lip, he looms over his brother but Dean doesn’t rise to the bait. Not physically or figuratively. Dean remains calm, hands curled around his coffee cup. He keeps his voice as quite as possible. Big brother voice soothing little brother. This too is part of the game.
“No, Sam. Not okay with it. Why do you think we’re trailing after him like hound dogs? You said it before, he doesn’t want us with him. He doesn’t want me with him.” The last sentence holds the tiny edge of anger and the hint of ache. It is barely imperceptible but there. But it doesn’t register with Sam. That too is typical of his brother. Sam can be intuitive as hell but sometimes he can also be dumber than a log.
Dean doesn’t feel it’s necessary to bring it to his attention.
Sam’s voice rises a bit. “Dean, you? He doesn’t want you with him? It’s me he doesn’t want. I’m the one he’s pissed at. This is the same old bullshit we’ve been dealing with forever. I mean, this hunting for Pa…?” Sam shakes his head and purses his lips. It is not quite a sneer but it is close. “Truth is, when we find Pa, I don’t even know if he’s gonna wanna see me.”
Dean isn’t quite sure what to make of Sam’s head tilt. The roll of his eyes. They are Winchesters after all they don’t talk about stuff like this. Sam’s hurt and angry too but that’s his default. Part of Dean just wants to tell him to shut up and stop acting like a 12-year-old girl. But a bigger part understands. Sammy and Pa’s last fight had been memorable. And while no one walked away bloody, Sam had walked away.
Pa had let him go and Dean hadn’t stopped him.
Dean considers it for a moment.
“Don’t worry, little brother. With both of us buckin’ him and ignoring his orders he is likely to tear us both new ones. Since I’m the oldest, I reckon I may be drawn and quartered as well. “ Dean allows a smile to play on his face. “No, he isn’t gonna want to see either one of us. But we are stronger together. He just has to realize that. We have to make him realize that.”
Sam laughs but it is a hollow, mirthless sound.
“Since when does he have to realize anything Dean. We’re his kids. He’s the boss, we follow his orders without question. The first time one of us steps out of line, he’s all over us like spots on a heifer. I am so past this shit.”
Yeah right Sammy.
Sam settles at the fire and turns his back to Dean, a not so subtle sign that he really is done with talking. Dean smiles a little to himself, because Sam is the one who started the conversation and Sam is the one who wants to have the last word.
The shit he puts up with from his brother.
Dean leans back against his saddle, feels the leather creak with his weight. The coffee has cooled a bit but the whisky still burns as he takes another sip. He watches as his little brother makes a spot for himself at the fire. Dean notices that Sam keeps his gun hand free and slides his bowie under the slicker that serves as his pillow. Yeah, his brother might still be a kid, but he’s a Winchester through and through. Sam isn’t taking any chances.
Good boy.
He has tonight to think about a game plan, what will work best for him and Sam, because tomorrow? Well, Dean is not really sure what tomorrow will bring, but if he’s played his cards right he figures they might just meet up with their father.
Part 6
saberivojo.livejournal.com/52855.html#cutid1