Daniel (PART 7)
Title: Daniel (Part 7)
Author: Saberivojo
Characters: Cowboy!Sam and Cowboy!Dean Winchester -Cowboy!AU
Rating: PG 13 for potty mouth. Gen
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just like playing with the boys
Summary: It's the 1800s. The boys and John meet up and head out. Originally written as a prompt for roque_clasique and her birthday. Thanks to Roque and her wonderful beta.
http://saberivojo.livejournal.com/26548.html#cutid1, (chapter 1)
http:///saberivojo.livejournal.com/27860.html (chapter 2)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/28198.html. (chapter 3)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/34329.html#cutid1 (chapter 4)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/45445.html#cutid1 (chapter 5)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/52855.html#cutid1 (chapter 6)
They mount back up and head further up the mountain, each man holding his own thoughts close to his vest. Well, Pa’s holding them closer. But that’s nothing new and really, Dean wouldn’t expect anything else from the man. There’s very little talking, there’s no need for it. Sam and Dean have grown up hunting, not demons of course, but moving quietly on a trail is expected. Of the two men who spent most of their time teaching the boys to hunt, Bobby was probably more talkative than their pa but that wasn’t saying much.
Trying to figure out Pa’s game plan is like trying to milk a bull. Ain’t never gonna happen and if you should get close to where you need to be, you’re likely to get your ass kicked, so fretting about it is a lesson in futility. Besides, they all need to be riding watchful-like, and letting your mind wander to things it can’t change is just dumb. Still, Dean watches the set of his brother’s broad shoulders, and he can see the tension in the way he rides. Sam is worrying on it, mulling it around in that big old college brain of his. It’s years of training and riding trail with their father that keeps Sam’s mouth in check. That and the fact that his brother ain’t stupid, just a mouthy sonofabitch. So they ride quiet.
“Boys.”
His father’s voice is low and quiet. Both Sam and Dean pull up quickly.
“Daniel’s place is another mile or so up ahead, so you ride careful. There’s a break in the trees and a small meadow, you both make sure you stay well back, he’s likely to start shooting first. He ain’t likely to care much if it’s me or not, in fact, he might just aim a little better if he figures I’m on the other end of his sights.“
“Sounds like somebody who knows you pretty well, Pa.” Sam’s voice is dripping with disrespect. He’s managed to get himself worked up pretty good during the ride up here. That’s typical Sam. The more time he has to mull shit over, the worse he gets.
Their father turns over his shoulder and levels a dark gaze at Sam. Then opts for an additional presence as he turns Blue around his leg, both mare and man facing Sam. “You watch your mouth, boy. Don’t think for one minute I won’t clean your plow just ‘cause you think you’ve grown a pair of brass ones.”
There must be an ounce of self-preservation in Sam, ‘cause he snorts once but manages to grind out a yes, sir. And although no one believes for one second that Sam is actually agreeing with Pa, they all opt for the path of least resistance. Dean had hoped this would be different, hoped his father and his brother could back off long enough to get done what needs to be done. But Sam’s time away might have made him even more self-righteous than before, and Pa? Well, he wouldn’t change if his life depended on it. Dean grits his teeth and finds himself unconsciously rubbing his leg. As if that will take away the ache that hurts far deeper than any physical pain he has ever felt.
Pa looks hard again at Sam, and Dean watches as Sam holds his father’s gaze. It’s not quite a pissing contest, because Sam has already deferred, but it’s close.
“C’mon, Pa. Let’s do this huh?” Dean tries for a little light hearted but it comes out shaky at best. Pa doesn’t like being pushed by either boy so Dean knows he’s taking a chance. Still better him than Sammy.
Instead of answering, Pa wheels the blue mare around like he’s chasing down an errant calf and he sends her up the narrow path at a strong lope.
Sam offers a quick look at Dean. Dean’s not sure if it’s apologetic, thankful, or angry, but they both scramble to follow their father through the trees.
**
They stop in the trees, just before the little clearing, all three men sitting quietly in the saddle. Pa is in the middle, Dean on his right and Sam on his left. The air is still and hot, Dean feels the sweat dripping between his shoulder blades, pooling at his belt line. Sam’s got to be hotter, the kid sweats just standing still. Dean can see the tiny cabin pushed back into the woods at the end of the meadow, but only because he knows it is there. It’s carefully concealed using the terrain and natural backdrop of a small cliff.
“It looks like your buddy Daniel ain’t takin’ any chances with his place.” Sam is speaking quietly, just above a whisper.
“Yup, Daniel’s a smart sonofabitch.” His father nods briefly to a tree they’re standing next to. Dean recognizes one of the sigils that’s in the book in his saddle bag etched into the tree. Dean can’t make head or tails of it, but it’s obviously been there a long time. “Daniel’s made sure this place ain’t gonna be found easily by man or beast,” John says, and then, quieter: “Watch your step, boys.”
Suddenly, a gunshot sounds and a bullet slams into the tree not two feet from Dean. Mac jumps a little to the left, banging himself into Blue. The mare stands solid, though, pins her ears at the impact. It shocks Dean just a moment, but his weight settles Mac and moment later all three Winchesters are standing quietly despite the echo of the gunshot.
“You at the trees, get your asses off my property.”
His father said the man was old but his voice sounds strong enough from where Dean is sitting.
“Daniel, it’s me, John Winchester!” His father bellows from his left. There is quiet then but it doesn’t feel peaceful in any way, shape or form. Then another gunshot this time directly above his father’s head. Pa doesn’t even twitch.
“Now, Daniel…there’s no need to get your back up. Put that old Henry away and let’s set a spell.” There’s no response from the cabin.
Pa casually takes his hat off, mops his brow with his handy bandana. He yells toward the cabin, “Daniel, it’s hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night! How about a little hospitality and some water at least.”
Maybe it’s the reminder that cowboys take care of their own, or maybe it’s just that Daniel Elkins takes pity on the three horses that stand right outside of his meadow, hot and sweaty after the climb up the mountain, but Dean is happy to hear Daniel’s sharp report from the house.
“Come on in, Winchester.”
Pa tips his hat toward the cabin and keeps his gaze straight ahead. “You boys stick close, y’hear?”
“Yes, sir.” Tandem voices, inflection exactly the same.
They ride slowly to the cabin. Pa rides easy and both boys take their cue from him. Daniel Elkins may want to shoot their father, but right now the old man has decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
They pull up three abreast. Pa dismounts first, followed by Sam. Dean waits to see how it’s gonna play out. He’d rather be on Mac than on the ground if Daniel Elkins decides to change his mind. Pa hands the reins of the blue mare to Sam as Elkins steps out onto the porch. He’s shadowed by a medium black and white dog, and the dog stands near his side, her body touching his. Dean figures his Pa notices, same as Sam. Observation has been drilled in them since they were old enough to sleep out of a crib.
His father steps up to the porch, offers a handshake to Elkins. Daniel almost ignores it, but finds his father’s hand and pumps once. The dog drops her head and Dean can’t help but notice the flash of teeth as she lifts a lip in his father’s direction.
“Kip.” Daniel is sharp and the dog stops and stands quietly next to his right leg.
By way of introduction, Pa nods to Sam and then Dean, still sitting on Mac. “These are my boys, Sam and Dean. Boys, Daniel Elkins.”
Both boys offer a dutiful “Sir.” But no more than that.
Daniel eyes them both up and Dean’s not so sure he hasn’t been found wanting. But all three nod to each other and then Daniel tips his head specifically at Sam. “Turn ‘em out in the paddock out back. There’s some hay and water there.” Dean notices that Sam barely stops the eye roll at being made stable boy but he quietly holds Blue and Howard and makes himself available for Dean in case he decides to dismount. Dean ignores him, deciding instead to ride Mac around back to the paddock where he can dismount with only Sam around. Sam seems to pick up on Dean’s reluctance and follows his brother around to the back of the cabin.
Just like Daniel said, there’s a corral with hay and fresh water. Sam untacks Howard and Blue but stands close by Mac in case Dean needs help. It kind of pisses Dean off, but he appreciates his brother’s concern. His earlier dismount to stop his father and brother from fighting has cost him dearly and he reaches for the flask that he keeps in his vest pocket. Dean takes a quick swig and the whiskey burns a trail down his throat. Mac stands quietly as Dean slowly drags his right leg over the cantle. There is a brief moment where he thinks he might loose his balance, but his left leg is strong and he steadies in the stirrup. It’s clumsy and pathetic but he manages to get off Mac without too much problem. On the ground he leans heavily on the horse, clutching the saddle horn and taking a few deep breaths before backing away from the comforting feel of the stallion beneath his body.
“I’ll untack him, and turn him out, Dean. How ‘bout you take five.”
For some reason it pisses Dean off even more. “I don’t need your fucking help, Sam. I can take care of my own horse.”
Sam raises his hands, universal sign of little brother backing down and instead runs his hands down the other two horses legs, checking for swelling or anything unusual. It’s not busy work, but again, Dean is aware that Sam is waiting for him. Sam leads Howard and Blue to the pole corral, drops two top rails and leads both horses over the lowest portion then turns them loose. Dean loosens the girth drags the saddle off Mac and flips the saddle pad over the railing sweat side up. Then he leads Mac over the poles as well. It is a chore to step over the pole, but he isn’t going to back down. Mac drops his head and Dean slides the bridle off and drapes it over the saddle horn on the fence, takes another halting step out of the corral and then puts both poles back up. Dean steps around to the saddle, using the fence as a brace and pulls his cane out. He has a love-hate relationship with the damn thing. But when Mac isn’t around it gives him a measure of independence that he might not otherwise have.
Despite being hungry, Mac trots to the middle of the corral and lays down in the dust, rolling his sweaty body in the dirt and trying to shift his heavy weight from one side to another. Sam and Dean lean on the post together and both smile at the stallion.
“That always cracks my ass up, watching him roll around like a puppy.” Sam bumps a little into Dean’s shoulder. For a brief moment, it’s just Sam and Dean watching Mac act like a colt, and it feels more than good to Dean, it feels like home.
Damn, he has missed his brother.
But they both have a job to do, so watching Mac act like a fool won’t get them any closer to finding the Colt.
They walk together to the front of the cabin, and once again Dean is impressed with the construction. This cabin isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Dean takes his time going up the steps and Sam stays with him, not touching but nearby in case Dean needs a hand. Dean smiles a little to himself - Sam learned quick not to try grab Dean’s arm while navigating steps, or anything else for that matter. Dean’s leg may be fucked up, but he has a mean right hook.
They open the door to the cabin, Dean first, Sam a half-step behind. Their father and Daniel are sitting around a bottle of whiskey at a rough hewed kitchen table. The black and white dog is curled protectively around Daniel’s feet but her eyes are open and she watches them as they step into the cabin.
Daniel turns toward the boys, glances up and down twice and then turns to their father. “Are they even old enough to drink?”
“Well, they think they are.” His father rumbles low but there is a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Pa.” Dean tries to sound affronted. It would be just like his father to not even let them drink with him and Daniel. Send Sam and Dean out on the front porch with a bucket of milk. But his father just smiles and gestures to the two empty chairs at the table. Sam takes the seat furthest away and Dean takes the one closest to the door.
Daniel watches as Sam folds himself onto the chair.
“Whatcha put in his water, John? I figured you’d have yourself a few big boys but that one looks like he’s grizzly sized.”
Dad smiles again and Sam drops his head, a brief blush creeping up his face. But there is no meanness in Daniel’s voice, just a bit of light-hearted humor.
“Yeah, sometimes he’s too big for his britches though,” Pa cuts a quick look at Sam then another at Dean. “They both are.”
Daniel laughs then and it’s Dean’s turn to blush. Dean knows his father may have accepted the fact that his boys showed up to hunt for this damn Colt, but he’s none to happy about it. Dean figures he should be happy the fact that the old man didn’t send them packing back down the trail.
Daniel fumbles a bit with the glasses, but pours a hefty shot for both Sam and Dean. Dean takes it gratefully, swallows it down with barely a moment’s hesitation. Pa levels him a dark look and Dean has the common sense to look a little chagrined.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, boy,” Daniel states and pours another drink for Dean. But Dean doesn’t touch it, despite the ache in his leg. He figures listening to his pa’s lecture about drinking and working on a job just ain’t worth the comfort of the whiskey.
“So, John, what makes you think I have the Colt. And if I did, what makes you think I’d give her to you.”
His father touches the silver wedding ban on his left hand, spins it unconsciously around his roughened finger. “You knew Mary. You know what happened to her. Ain’t that reason enough?”
“We all got reasons for taking on this life, John. Your girl was a good one, sure ‘nough, but I got things I aim to kill before I die and that gun’s gonna do it for me.”
“That gun ain’t gonna do a damn thing for you, Daniel, you can barely see as it is… Do you think you’re gonna be able to track and then shoot a fucking demon?”
Dean stops and looks hard at Daniel and for the first time he notices the man’s watery blue eyes.
“You mean you were shooting at us and you’re blind as a bat?” Dean’s gone from kind of liking the old guy to wanting to kick his ass, right here in the old man’s cabin. Right in front of his father, his brother and the black and white dog.
“I can see well enough to kick you, your big-ass brother and pain in the ass father the hell out of my house!” And as if to make a point Daniel reaches for the shotgun propped up next to the table. The dog stands, a low rumble deep in her chest.
Pa raises his hands, an exact replica of Sam’s earlier white flag. “Now, now, Daniel - calm down. Dean doesn’t always think before he starts yapping. The boy needs to hobble his lip.” Pa glares at Dean and usually his father’s dark look is enough to stop Dean in his tracks. But Dean thinks that blind men shooting at his family warrants some kind of action. Besides, the guy is old and Dean feels pretty sure he can wrestle the damn shotgun away before he can get a shot off. Dean shoves back his chair and stands, weight balanced on his strong left leg.
“Stand down, Dean.” Pa isn’t loud but the meaning is clear. Dean stays up just a moment longer than is necessary, a restrained act of defiance. Then he sits reluctantly, still eyeballing Daniel. Sam hasn’t moved a muscle but is watching the action unfold around him and even though he hasn’t stirred, Dean can sense a subtle change in his brother, knows he’s available if Dean needs him. To back-talk Dad or take a swing at Daniel. Sam is the best back-up anyone could ever need, be it bar fight or family dispute. It flashes through Dean’s mind that he hasn’t always been the best back-up for Sam though.
“Damn straight,” Daniel grumbles. “I don’t need some shave tail kid telling me what I can or can’t do in my own house.”
“A blind man shouldn’t be shooting a gun, I don’t care whose house he is in.” Dean knows he sounds petulant but he and his family could have been shot by a blind hunter, “Jesus, Elkins.”
Dean doesn’t catch his father’s dark look, but he knows it’s there and he knows enough to figure he’s out of line.
“That’s Mr. Elkins to you, boy.” Daniel’s hawk-like face looks just as pissed as his father’s does.
Sam’s voice is soothing, like he’s gentling a skittish colt. “Sorry Mr. Elkins. M’ brother’s a bit rough around the edges.”
And for some reason, Sam’s soft-spoken words do the trick. Daniel laughs then, reaches over and pounds Dean hard on the back. “If he’s a Winchester there ain’t no rounded corners.”
Pa smiles wryly, with just a hint of affection. “So Daniel, now that we know my boy doesn’t have the manners of a wolf pup, let’s go back to the real reason we’re here.”
Pa is interrupted by Daniel. “You mean, other than the pretense of helping yourself to water for your horses and my good whiskey?” Daniel’s words have a sharp edge to them.
This time it’s John Winchester who seems to blush and damn if that hasn’t happened in a long time. “Well, I suppose all of us are a little rough in the manners department, but I blame that on the fact that me and my boys haven’t had a woman’s touch in twenty years. You and I both know Mary didn’t tolerate my bullshit and I doubt she’d put up with her boys’ antics either. But that’s exactly why we need your help. My Mary was a good girl, she didn’t deserve to die like she did,” Pa continues on, and it’s a helluva lot more than Dean is used to hearing at one time from his father. “I know you have that Colt, you know I need it. And regardless of how damn good Kip there is at keeping you outta trouble, the chances of you being able to hunt anything at all, are slim to none. Give her to me. I’ll make sure that I kill every evil son of a bitch that I can after I get the damn demon that got my Mary. You give me a short list, and I’ll take care of as many as I can before they get me.” Pa looks hard at Daniel, voice low and rough “I’m going after that demon one way or the other, and I’d rather go well heeled.”
“What about your boys? Are they riding with you? Are you willing to put them in harm’s way just to make a statement.”
“I ain’t makin’ no damn statement, I’m gonna kill that sonofabitch. And no, they aren’t gonna be anywhere near the damn thing.”
“Wait a minute,” Sam interjects, his quiet calm replaced with angry young man. “What do you mean, we aren’t gonna be there. We’re here now, Mr. Elkins there will give us the gun and then we go fight this thing.”
“You,” his father points a hard finger in Sam’s direction, “are taking your ass back to school and Dean, you’re heading back to the ranch. I gotta do this on my own.”
“No way, Pa. It ain’t happening, “ Dean sounds strong despite the pounding of his heart. He is not letting his father take on a demon with nothing but a magical gun and grit.
“What my sons mean to say is…’yes, sir.’” His father’s voice is low and he is directing his statement to Daniel, suddenly ignoring Sam and Dean.
Pa has made his order clear: Sam’s going to school, Dean back to the ranch. Dean takes a deep breath, and shoots a quick but meaningful glance at Sam. Shutting up right now makes sense -- if they decide to call their father out at Daniel’s place it will end badly. It‘s better to wait until all three Winchesters are free of the old man. Defying pa in front of Daniel would bring the wrath of John Winchester on whichever boy decided to open his big mouth and both Sam and Dean have already said too much. Dean figures he’s lucky the old man hasn’t cuffed him already.
Daniel flicks a quick glance at all three Winchesters and he’s obviously had enough dealings with John to figure out that this is between him and his boys, but the old man is well - old. Being old gives you certain unalienable rights, like sitting at the head of the table and speaking your own mind, even in the presence of John Winchester.
“The boys are right, John. This isn’t a one-man hunt. You’re gonna need back up and old yellow eyes ain’t gonna be an easy kill.”
“Yellow eyes? Why’d you call it that?” It seems important somehow, like a whiff of smoke just out of smelling range or a wily calf that avoids his rope. Then, suddenly and with absolute clarity Dean thinks of his ride on that crazy black stallion, the one that left him mangled and broken. The brief flash of wolf eyes he saw in the darkened tree-line. Yellow and bright -- far too bright for darkened woods with no fire to reflect them. It had been a wolf. It had to be a wolf. But now, unexpectedly, Dean is not so sure.
“’Cause that’s what it has - yellow eyes. Just like the goat eyes of it’s daddy. This thing is powerful evil, boys, and even if I give you the gun, it ain’t gonna go down easy.”
Pa rakes a hand over his beard. He doesn’t take direction well. Not even from Bobby Singer, but whatever kind of relationship he has with Daniel, he at least seems content to let the man talk.
“That demon is a sonofabitch. Nastier than anything else I’ve hunted. You boys are gonna need to ride careful and ride hard, if’n you think you’re gonna put it down.”
Pa nods. “The gun, Daniel. We need the Colt.”
Once again the old man searches the faces of the Winchesters, settles on Pa’s and seems to come to some kind of decision. He stands, walks steadily over to a low desk, toggles a button somewhere and pulls out drawer with a false bottom. Briefly it occurs to Dean that his father had the same thing in his study. Is this a prerequisite for hunters?
Then, wrapped in soft cloth, Daniel pulls out what must be the gun. He holds it with the familiar ease of a man comfortable with firearms and yet with a reverence usually given only to holy relics. He carefully puts it on the table and then slides it from his side to John’s side. It’s almost as if he has passed the torch from one hunter to another. John unwraps the Colt and for the first time, Dean sees the famous gun made by Samuel Colt. It is elegantly engraved and beautifully detailed, but Dean can see even from his vantage point that it is a work-horse, finely crafted but built for a job. There is a pentagram carefully carved in the grip. His father turns the Colt and gently runs his hands over the words engraved on it, says them low.
“Non timebo mala.” Both Sam and Dean translate it in their heads at the same time and then together out loud.
“I will fear no evil.”
Previous chapter here.
saberivojo.livejournal.com/52855.html#cutid1
Final chapter here
saberivojo.livejournal.com/78295.html
Author: Saberivojo
Characters: Cowboy!Sam and Cowboy!Dean Winchester -Cowboy!AU
Rating: PG 13 for potty mouth. Gen
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just like playing with the boys
Summary: It's the 1800s. The boys and John meet up and head out. Originally written as a prompt for roque_clasique and her birthday. Thanks to Roque and her wonderful beta.
http://saberivojo.livejournal.com/26548.html#cutid1, (chapter 1)
http:///saberivojo.livejournal.com/27860.html (chapter 2)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/28198.html. (chapter 3)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/34329.html#cutid1 (chapter 4)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/45445.html#cutid1 (chapter 5)
saberivojo.livejournal.com/52855.html#cutid1 (chapter 6)
They mount back up and head further up the mountain, each man holding his own thoughts close to his vest. Well, Pa’s holding them closer. But that’s nothing new and really, Dean wouldn’t expect anything else from the man. There’s very little talking, there’s no need for it. Sam and Dean have grown up hunting, not demons of course, but moving quietly on a trail is expected. Of the two men who spent most of their time teaching the boys to hunt, Bobby was probably more talkative than their pa but that wasn’t saying much.
Trying to figure out Pa’s game plan is like trying to milk a bull. Ain’t never gonna happen and if you should get close to where you need to be, you’re likely to get your ass kicked, so fretting about it is a lesson in futility. Besides, they all need to be riding watchful-like, and letting your mind wander to things it can’t change is just dumb. Still, Dean watches the set of his brother’s broad shoulders, and he can see the tension in the way he rides. Sam is worrying on it, mulling it around in that big old college brain of his. It’s years of training and riding trail with their father that keeps Sam’s mouth in check. That and the fact that his brother ain’t stupid, just a mouthy sonofabitch. So they ride quiet.
“Boys.”
His father’s voice is low and quiet. Both Sam and Dean pull up quickly.
“Daniel’s place is another mile or so up ahead, so you ride careful. There’s a break in the trees and a small meadow, you both make sure you stay well back, he’s likely to start shooting first. He ain’t likely to care much if it’s me or not, in fact, he might just aim a little better if he figures I’m on the other end of his sights.“
“Sounds like somebody who knows you pretty well, Pa.” Sam’s voice is dripping with disrespect. He’s managed to get himself worked up pretty good during the ride up here. That’s typical Sam. The more time he has to mull shit over, the worse he gets.
Their father turns over his shoulder and levels a dark gaze at Sam. Then opts for an additional presence as he turns Blue around his leg, both mare and man facing Sam. “You watch your mouth, boy. Don’t think for one minute I won’t clean your plow just ‘cause you think you’ve grown a pair of brass ones.”
There must be an ounce of self-preservation in Sam, ‘cause he snorts once but manages to grind out a yes, sir. And although no one believes for one second that Sam is actually agreeing with Pa, they all opt for the path of least resistance. Dean had hoped this would be different, hoped his father and his brother could back off long enough to get done what needs to be done. But Sam’s time away might have made him even more self-righteous than before, and Pa? Well, he wouldn’t change if his life depended on it. Dean grits his teeth and finds himself unconsciously rubbing his leg. As if that will take away the ache that hurts far deeper than any physical pain he has ever felt.
Pa looks hard again at Sam, and Dean watches as Sam holds his father’s gaze. It’s not quite a pissing contest, because Sam has already deferred, but it’s close.
“C’mon, Pa. Let’s do this huh?” Dean tries for a little light hearted but it comes out shaky at best. Pa doesn’t like being pushed by either boy so Dean knows he’s taking a chance. Still better him than Sammy.
Instead of answering, Pa wheels the blue mare around like he’s chasing down an errant calf and he sends her up the narrow path at a strong lope.
Sam offers a quick look at Dean. Dean’s not sure if it’s apologetic, thankful, or angry, but they both scramble to follow their father through the trees.
**
They stop in the trees, just before the little clearing, all three men sitting quietly in the saddle. Pa is in the middle, Dean on his right and Sam on his left. The air is still and hot, Dean feels the sweat dripping between his shoulder blades, pooling at his belt line. Sam’s got to be hotter, the kid sweats just standing still. Dean can see the tiny cabin pushed back into the woods at the end of the meadow, but only because he knows it is there. It’s carefully concealed using the terrain and natural backdrop of a small cliff.
“It looks like your buddy Daniel ain’t takin’ any chances with his place.” Sam is speaking quietly, just above a whisper.
“Yup, Daniel’s a smart sonofabitch.” His father nods briefly to a tree they’re standing next to. Dean recognizes one of the sigils that’s in the book in his saddle bag etched into the tree. Dean can’t make head or tails of it, but it’s obviously been there a long time. “Daniel’s made sure this place ain’t gonna be found easily by man or beast,” John says, and then, quieter: “Watch your step, boys.”
Suddenly, a gunshot sounds and a bullet slams into the tree not two feet from Dean. Mac jumps a little to the left, banging himself into Blue. The mare stands solid, though, pins her ears at the impact. It shocks Dean just a moment, but his weight settles Mac and moment later all three Winchesters are standing quietly despite the echo of the gunshot.
“You at the trees, get your asses off my property.”
His father said the man was old but his voice sounds strong enough from where Dean is sitting.
“Daniel, it’s me, John Winchester!” His father bellows from his left. There is quiet then but it doesn’t feel peaceful in any way, shape or form. Then another gunshot this time directly above his father’s head. Pa doesn’t even twitch.
“Now, Daniel…there’s no need to get your back up. Put that old Henry away and let’s set a spell.” There’s no response from the cabin.
Pa casually takes his hat off, mops his brow with his handy bandana. He yells toward the cabin, “Daniel, it’s hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night! How about a little hospitality and some water at least.”
Maybe it’s the reminder that cowboys take care of their own, or maybe it’s just that Daniel Elkins takes pity on the three horses that stand right outside of his meadow, hot and sweaty after the climb up the mountain, but Dean is happy to hear Daniel’s sharp report from the house.
“Come on in, Winchester.”
Pa tips his hat toward the cabin and keeps his gaze straight ahead. “You boys stick close, y’hear?”
“Yes, sir.” Tandem voices, inflection exactly the same.
They ride slowly to the cabin. Pa rides easy and both boys take their cue from him. Daniel Elkins may want to shoot their father, but right now the old man has decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
They pull up three abreast. Pa dismounts first, followed by Sam. Dean waits to see how it’s gonna play out. He’d rather be on Mac than on the ground if Daniel Elkins decides to change his mind. Pa hands the reins of the blue mare to Sam as Elkins steps out onto the porch. He’s shadowed by a medium black and white dog, and the dog stands near his side, her body touching his. Dean figures his Pa notices, same as Sam. Observation has been drilled in them since they were old enough to sleep out of a crib.
His father steps up to the porch, offers a handshake to Elkins. Daniel almost ignores it, but finds his father’s hand and pumps once. The dog drops her head and Dean can’t help but notice the flash of teeth as she lifts a lip in his father’s direction.
“Kip.” Daniel is sharp and the dog stops and stands quietly next to his right leg.
By way of introduction, Pa nods to Sam and then Dean, still sitting on Mac. “These are my boys, Sam and Dean. Boys, Daniel Elkins.”
Both boys offer a dutiful “Sir.” But no more than that.
Daniel eyes them both up and Dean’s not so sure he hasn’t been found wanting. But all three nod to each other and then Daniel tips his head specifically at Sam. “Turn ‘em out in the paddock out back. There’s some hay and water there.” Dean notices that Sam barely stops the eye roll at being made stable boy but he quietly holds Blue and Howard and makes himself available for Dean in case he decides to dismount. Dean ignores him, deciding instead to ride Mac around back to the paddock where he can dismount with only Sam around. Sam seems to pick up on Dean’s reluctance and follows his brother around to the back of the cabin.
Just like Daniel said, there’s a corral with hay and fresh water. Sam untacks Howard and Blue but stands close by Mac in case Dean needs help. It kind of pisses Dean off, but he appreciates his brother’s concern. His earlier dismount to stop his father and brother from fighting has cost him dearly and he reaches for the flask that he keeps in his vest pocket. Dean takes a quick swig and the whiskey burns a trail down his throat. Mac stands quietly as Dean slowly drags his right leg over the cantle. There is a brief moment where he thinks he might loose his balance, but his left leg is strong and he steadies in the stirrup. It’s clumsy and pathetic but he manages to get off Mac without too much problem. On the ground he leans heavily on the horse, clutching the saddle horn and taking a few deep breaths before backing away from the comforting feel of the stallion beneath his body.
“I’ll untack him, and turn him out, Dean. How ‘bout you take five.”
For some reason it pisses Dean off even more. “I don’t need your fucking help, Sam. I can take care of my own horse.”
Sam raises his hands, universal sign of little brother backing down and instead runs his hands down the other two horses legs, checking for swelling or anything unusual. It’s not busy work, but again, Dean is aware that Sam is waiting for him. Sam leads Howard and Blue to the pole corral, drops two top rails and leads both horses over the lowest portion then turns them loose. Dean loosens the girth drags the saddle off Mac and flips the saddle pad over the railing sweat side up. Then he leads Mac over the poles as well. It is a chore to step over the pole, but he isn’t going to back down. Mac drops his head and Dean slides the bridle off and drapes it over the saddle horn on the fence, takes another halting step out of the corral and then puts both poles back up. Dean steps around to the saddle, using the fence as a brace and pulls his cane out. He has a love-hate relationship with the damn thing. But when Mac isn’t around it gives him a measure of independence that he might not otherwise have.
Despite being hungry, Mac trots to the middle of the corral and lays down in the dust, rolling his sweaty body in the dirt and trying to shift his heavy weight from one side to another. Sam and Dean lean on the post together and both smile at the stallion.
“That always cracks my ass up, watching him roll around like a puppy.” Sam bumps a little into Dean’s shoulder. For a brief moment, it’s just Sam and Dean watching Mac act like a colt, and it feels more than good to Dean, it feels like home.
Damn, he has missed his brother.
But they both have a job to do, so watching Mac act like a fool won’t get them any closer to finding the Colt.
They walk together to the front of the cabin, and once again Dean is impressed with the construction. This cabin isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Dean takes his time going up the steps and Sam stays with him, not touching but nearby in case Dean needs a hand. Dean smiles a little to himself - Sam learned quick not to try grab Dean’s arm while navigating steps, or anything else for that matter. Dean’s leg may be fucked up, but he has a mean right hook.
They open the door to the cabin, Dean first, Sam a half-step behind. Their father and Daniel are sitting around a bottle of whiskey at a rough hewed kitchen table. The black and white dog is curled protectively around Daniel’s feet but her eyes are open and she watches them as they step into the cabin.
Daniel turns toward the boys, glances up and down twice and then turns to their father. “Are they even old enough to drink?”
“Well, they think they are.” His father rumbles low but there is a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Pa.” Dean tries to sound affronted. It would be just like his father to not even let them drink with him and Daniel. Send Sam and Dean out on the front porch with a bucket of milk. But his father just smiles and gestures to the two empty chairs at the table. Sam takes the seat furthest away and Dean takes the one closest to the door.
Daniel watches as Sam folds himself onto the chair.
“Whatcha put in his water, John? I figured you’d have yourself a few big boys but that one looks like he’s grizzly sized.”
Dad smiles again and Sam drops his head, a brief blush creeping up his face. But there is no meanness in Daniel’s voice, just a bit of light-hearted humor.
“Yeah, sometimes he’s too big for his britches though,” Pa cuts a quick look at Sam then another at Dean. “They both are.”
Daniel laughs then and it’s Dean’s turn to blush. Dean knows his father may have accepted the fact that his boys showed up to hunt for this damn Colt, but he’s none to happy about it. Dean figures he should be happy the fact that the old man didn’t send them packing back down the trail.
Daniel fumbles a bit with the glasses, but pours a hefty shot for both Sam and Dean. Dean takes it gratefully, swallows it down with barely a moment’s hesitation. Pa levels him a dark look and Dean has the common sense to look a little chagrined.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, boy,” Daniel states and pours another drink for Dean. But Dean doesn’t touch it, despite the ache in his leg. He figures listening to his pa’s lecture about drinking and working on a job just ain’t worth the comfort of the whiskey.
“So, John, what makes you think I have the Colt. And if I did, what makes you think I’d give her to you.”
His father touches the silver wedding ban on his left hand, spins it unconsciously around his roughened finger. “You knew Mary. You know what happened to her. Ain’t that reason enough?”
“We all got reasons for taking on this life, John. Your girl was a good one, sure ‘nough, but I got things I aim to kill before I die and that gun’s gonna do it for me.”
“That gun ain’t gonna do a damn thing for you, Daniel, you can barely see as it is… Do you think you’re gonna be able to track and then shoot a fucking demon?”
Dean stops and looks hard at Daniel and for the first time he notices the man’s watery blue eyes.
“You mean you were shooting at us and you’re blind as a bat?” Dean’s gone from kind of liking the old guy to wanting to kick his ass, right here in the old man’s cabin. Right in front of his father, his brother and the black and white dog.
“I can see well enough to kick you, your big-ass brother and pain in the ass father the hell out of my house!” And as if to make a point Daniel reaches for the shotgun propped up next to the table. The dog stands, a low rumble deep in her chest.
Pa raises his hands, an exact replica of Sam’s earlier white flag. “Now, now, Daniel - calm down. Dean doesn’t always think before he starts yapping. The boy needs to hobble his lip.” Pa glares at Dean and usually his father’s dark look is enough to stop Dean in his tracks. But Dean thinks that blind men shooting at his family warrants some kind of action. Besides, the guy is old and Dean feels pretty sure he can wrestle the damn shotgun away before he can get a shot off. Dean shoves back his chair and stands, weight balanced on his strong left leg.
“Stand down, Dean.” Pa isn’t loud but the meaning is clear. Dean stays up just a moment longer than is necessary, a restrained act of defiance. Then he sits reluctantly, still eyeballing Daniel. Sam hasn’t moved a muscle but is watching the action unfold around him and even though he hasn’t stirred, Dean can sense a subtle change in his brother, knows he’s available if Dean needs him. To back-talk Dad or take a swing at Daniel. Sam is the best back-up anyone could ever need, be it bar fight or family dispute. It flashes through Dean’s mind that he hasn’t always been the best back-up for Sam though.
“Damn straight,” Daniel grumbles. “I don’t need some shave tail kid telling me what I can or can’t do in my own house.”
“A blind man shouldn’t be shooting a gun, I don’t care whose house he is in.” Dean knows he sounds petulant but he and his family could have been shot by a blind hunter, “Jesus, Elkins.”
Dean doesn’t catch his father’s dark look, but he knows it’s there and he knows enough to figure he’s out of line.
“That’s Mr. Elkins to you, boy.” Daniel’s hawk-like face looks just as pissed as his father’s does.
Sam’s voice is soothing, like he’s gentling a skittish colt. “Sorry Mr. Elkins. M’ brother’s a bit rough around the edges.”
And for some reason, Sam’s soft-spoken words do the trick. Daniel laughs then, reaches over and pounds Dean hard on the back. “If he’s a Winchester there ain’t no rounded corners.”
Pa smiles wryly, with just a hint of affection. “So Daniel, now that we know my boy doesn’t have the manners of a wolf pup, let’s go back to the real reason we’re here.”
Pa is interrupted by Daniel. “You mean, other than the pretense of helping yourself to water for your horses and my good whiskey?” Daniel’s words have a sharp edge to them.
This time it’s John Winchester who seems to blush and damn if that hasn’t happened in a long time. “Well, I suppose all of us are a little rough in the manners department, but I blame that on the fact that me and my boys haven’t had a woman’s touch in twenty years. You and I both know Mary didn’t tolerate my bullshit and I doubt she’d put up with her boys’ antics either. But that’s exactly why we need your help. My Mary was a good girl, she didn’t deserve to die like she did,” Pa continues on, and it’s a helluva lot more than Dean is used to hearing at one time from his father. “I know you have that Colt, you know I need it. And regardless of how damn good Kip there is at keeping you outta trouble, the chances of you being able to hunt anything at all, are slim to none. Give her to me. I’ll make sure that I kill every evil son of a bitch that I can after I get the damn demon that got my Mary. You give me a short list, and I’ll take care of as many as I can before they get me.” Pa looks hard at Daniel, voice low and rough “I’m going after that demon one way or the other, and I’d rather go well heeled.”
“What about your boys? Are they riding with you? Are you willing to put them in harm’s way just to make a statement.”
“I ain’t makin’ no damn statement, I’m gonna kill that sonofabitch. And no, they aren’t gonna be anywhere near the damn thing.”
“Wait a minute,” Sam interjects, his quiet calm replaced with angry young man. “What do you mean, we aren’t gonna be there. We’re here now, Mr. Elkins there will give us the gun and then we go fight this thing.”
“You,” his father points a hard finger in Sam’s direction, “are taking your ass back to school and Dean, you’re heading back to the ranch. I gotta do this on my own.”
“No way, Pa. It ain’t happening, “ Dean sounds strong despite the pounding of his heart. He is not letting his father take on a demon with nothing but a magical gun and grit.
“What my sons mean to say is…’yes, sir.’” His father’s voice is low and he is directing his statement to Daniel, suddenly ignoring Sam and Dean.
Pa has made his order clear: Sam’s going to school, Dean back to the ranch. Dean takes a deep breath, and shoots a quick but meaningful glance at Sam. Shutting up right now makes sense -- if they decide to call their father out at Daniel’s place it will end badly. It‘s better to wait until all three Winchesters are free of the old man. Defying pa in front of Daniel would bring the wrath of John Winchester on whichever boy decided to open his big mouth and both Sam and Dean have already said too much. Dean figures he’s lucky the old man hasn’t cuffed him already.
Daniel flicks a quick glance at all three Winchesters and he’s obviously had enough dealings with John to figure out that this is between him and his boys, but the old man is well - old. Being old gives you certain unalienable rights, like sitting at the head of the table and speaking your own mind, even in the presence of John Winchester.
“The boys are right, John. This isn’t a one-man hunt. You’re gonna need back up and old yellow eyes ain’t gonna be an easy kill.”
“Yellow eyes? Why’d you call it that?” It seems important somehow, like a whiff of smoke just out of smelling range or a wily calf that avoids his rope. Then, suddenly and with absolute clarity Dean thinks of his ride on that crazy black stallion, the one that left him mangled and broken. The brief flash of wolf eyes he saw in the darkened tree-line. Yellow and bright -- far too bright for darkened woods with no fire to reflect them. It had been a wolf. It had to be a wolf. But now, unexpectedly, Dean is not so sure.
“’Cause that’s what it has - yellow eyes. Just like the goat eyes of it’s daddy. This thing is powerful evil, boys, and even if I give you the gun, it ain’t gonna go down easy.”
Pa rakes a hand over his beard. He doesn’t take direction well. Not even from Bobby Singer, but whatever kind of relationship he has with Daniel, he at least seems content to let the man talk.
“That demon is a sonofabitch. Nastier than anything else I’ve hunted. You boys are gonna need to ride careful and ride hard, if’n you think you’re gonna put it down.”
Pa nods. “The gun, Daniel. We need the Colt.”
Once again the old man searches the faces of the Winchesters, settles on Pa’s and seems to come to some kind of decision. He stands, walks steadily over to a low desk, toggles a button somewhere and pulls out drawer with a false bottom. Briefly it occurs to Dean that his father had the same thing in his study. Is this a prerequisite for hunters?
Then, wrapped in soft cloth, Daniel pulls out what must be the gun. He holds it with the familiar ease of a man comfortable with firearms and yet with a reverence usually given only to holy relics. He carefully puts it on the table and then slides it from his side to John’s side. It’s almost as if he has passed the torch from one hunter to another. John unwraps the Colt and for the first time, Dean sees the famous gun made by Samuel Colt. It is elegantly engraved and beautifully detailed, but Dean can see even from his vantage point that it is a work-horse, finely crafted but built for a job. There is a pentagram carefully carved in the grip. His father turns the Colt and gently runs his hands over the words engraved on it, says them low.
“Non timebo mala.” Both Sam and Dean translate it in their heads at the same time and then together out loud.
“I will fear no evil.”
Previous chapter here.
saberivojo.livejournal.com/52855.html#cutid1
Final chapter here
saberivojo.livejournal.com/78295.html