Put Away Wet...final chapter
Title: Cowboy Up - Chapter 8
Author: Saberivojo
Characters: Cowboy!Sam, Cowboy! Dean, Cowboy! John
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG 13 for potty talk
The next morning Mac is full of piss and vinegar and puts on a mini rodeo for the amusement of all four men. He’s considerate enough to wait until Dean settles in the saddle before he starts the fireworks, but then he humps his back, drops his head and stiff legs it a few times. Dean growls a little, but the stallion ignores him for a half hearted crow hop that suddenly has Dean laughing. His father is trying to scowl but Dean can see a glint in his eyes, then out of the corner of his vision, he sees his father’s slow grin. Sam actually cheers a bit from the sidelines. Dean isn’t sure if he’s rooting for Mac or for him, but Sam’s enthusiastically whoopin’ it up in true cowboy fashion so Dean doesn’t much care who the whoops are for. Mac decides on one more buck, this time with a little more conviction and then stops, blowing hard in the early morning coolness.
“Better you than me, “ Pa says and shakes his head as he steps into the saddle. Any disapproval he may have regarding his son’s horse or Dean’s ability to train him dissolves with a quick laugh. He settles comfortably in the saddle, leather creaking with his weight. Blue looks like she’s giving Mac the stink eye and if Dean didn’t know any better he’d swear she was saying silly boy.
They leave Daniel’s cabin full of homemade biscuits and what might possibly be the best coffee Dean’s ever had. “The secret’s chicory,” Daniel had said low, almost as if it was his momma’s favorite recipe for pie. Dean had nodded to the old man, hands clutched around the cup and took another big sip. Nothin like a good cup of coffee to start your day out right. Daniel is turning into one of Dean’s favorite people.
Dean flexes his shoulders, picks up the reins and allows his weight to sink in the saddle. Pain spikes sharp in his hip and travels down to his boot. It takes his breath away and he can’t help the low moan that escapes. He doubts anyone heard it but Mac, who twitches his ear back at the sound but makes no other outward sign. Dean can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt but he’s faked it before so he figures he’ll keep it between him and Mac.
Dean feels like he’s been rode hard and put away wet but he reckons it’s worth it. Mac’s in a fine mood; they have the Colt; and his father and brother aren’t trying to beat each other senseless at the moment. All in all Dean figures he’s got nothing to complain about.
The morning is a little cool but Dean knows it will get hotter. Mac is jigging his way up the mountain, blowing a bit and shifting under Dean but it’s only high spirits and the need to be somewhere other than here. Mac can be a restless boy, it’s one of the things that Dean loves about him.
This is familiar, his father, his brother, the sound of leather and the jangle of a bit. It’s comforting to Dean, which is odd, considering they aren’t tracking a mule deer or even that rogue grizzly.
It’s not just safety in numbers, it’s safety in Winchester and the uneasiness that should be hanging over him is pushed to the back of his mind.
He glances ahead at Sam. Even his rebellious brother is riding easy, hips rolling under Howard, his body following the motion of his horse. Further ahead, his father is allowing Blue to pick her way up the trail. She’s a fine trail horse and Dean appreciates how she navigates the somewhat treacherous climb.
They stop at a little clearing for lunch. It’s leftover biscuits and that’s just fine as far as Dean is concerned. All three horses are standing ground tied with their girths loosened a bit. Sam sits leaning up against a rock, lanky body folded up on itself, and Pa is propped up against a tree. Dean sits between them both, warming his leg in a patch of sun. He rubs the leg absently, a gentle kneading that sometimes helps the pain and other times does absolutely nothing.
He looks at his father. The man looks relaxed, despite the fact that they’re hunting a yellow-eyed demon. And shit, that’s never gonna sound right. Dean figures now is as good as time as ever. He runs a hand over the stubble on his jaw and takes a deep breath.
John Winchester didn’t raise any dumb boys so Dean’s as careful as a naked man climbin’ a barbedwire fence.
“So Pa, back at Daniel’s. Did you mean what you said? About me going back to the ranch and Sammy heading back to school?”
His father stops thoughtfully, in mid chew. “How often have you heard me say somethin’ I don’t mean?”
It’s not really a question that Dean needs to answer but he’s conditioned to respond to his father so he shakes his head, “Off the top of my head, I can’t recollect one time.” It’s true, his father doesn’t change his mind or speak frivolously.
If John Winchester says something, he means it.
“So what makes you think I’d say one thing and mean another?” Pa questions and Dean doesn’t think his father really cares what he thinks one whit, but he has asked his opinion so Dean’s gonna give it to him.
“Well, we ain’t left yet.” Dean nods toward the mountain, “We’re still climbing this mountain and riding together, so I’m wondering if maybe you don’t want us to leave after all. Maybe Daniel’s right thinking you need help. “ Dean takes a deep breath and locks green eyes on his father’s brown. “Maybe you think so too.“
“What exactly are you trying to say, son?” And even though the words aren’t rough, there is just an edge to Pa’s voice. It’s a bit of a challenge with just a hint of don’t push me, boy - all rolled into one little comment.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see his brother tense, body coiling and uncoiling snake-like.
Suddenly Dean makes a decision.
“Well tellin’ a man to git lost and makin’ him do it are entirely two different propositions.”
Dean doesn’t see Sam, but he hears the sharp intake of breath.
His father glares hard a Dean, the kind of stare that makes Dean want to curl up, belly clenching in response. But Dean is taking a stand and if it costs him it will be worth it. Being a good son means nothing to Dean if his father dies facing a demon that Dean could have helped him fight. He watches as his father’s hand automatically heads to his belt buckle and damn if that doesn’t make his belly tighten further. It has been years since his father has felt the need to tan Dean’s ass and Dean is a grown man. Still, Dean never puts anything past John Winchester so he takes the threat seriously. Instead though, Pa’s hand curls into a loose fist and Dean thinks that maybe this particular ass kicking will be in the form of a knock down, drag out fight.
Fisticuffs with his father is not high on his list of things he wants to do to
“Pa, just listen will ya? You, me, Sammy, this is our fight too. I’m thinkin’ that maybe you need some back-up. That maybe you shouldn’t be going this alone.”
“And what makes you think that I’m gonna listen to an old man like Daniel Elkins?” Pa doesn’t say it, but the or you is loud and clear.
Dean shrugs, drops his head, the brim of his hat momentarily shading his eyes.
“Well, maybe you’ll listen to Bobby.”
“What’s Bobby got to do with this?” He sounds as ornery as a bear with a thorn in his paw.
“Pa, he told us where you were. He gave us the book. He wasn’t all that happy about it, but he did it. Bobby knew you needed us, even if you didn’t.”
“He’s right, Pa,” Sam’s voice is controlled, soft even. It’s a testimony to how his brother needs this conversation to end.
How they all need this to end.
“Well, Bobby Singer might just find his ass looking for a new job when I get back.”
Sam snorts, an incredulous sound that tells both Pa and Dean what he thinks about the Rocking W surviving without Bobby Singer
“Pa, we are in this together. There’s some stuff you don’t know, maybe stuff you need to know. “
His father levels a steady gaze at Dean.
“And what would that be.”
It sounds stupid, even is his head but it would be stupider not to mention it. Dean taps his leg. “This, the night it happened. I think it was there.”
“What?” Razor-sharp and low, the word is unnaturally clipped. His father eyes Dean hard.
“I’m pretty sure I saw something in the woods.”
Sam interjects, “The wolf with the yellow eyes right?”
Both men turn to Sam but it is Dean’s eyes that narrow. “How’d you know about that?”
Sam drops his head, not quite able to meet his brother’s eyes. “’Cause I saw it Dean. I saw you, the stallion and that damn wolf.”
“How in the hell, Sammy? You were asleep. The corral wasn’t even close to your room.”
Sam stands, brushes his the dirt off of his jeans impatiently. “It was a dream okay? I just saw it in a dream, a nightmare. You riding that crazy ass horse and the yellow eyed wolf. “
Sam turns urgently to Dean, pulls his hat off and runs a hand through his unruly sweaty hair, then slaps the hat back on, “Dean it wasn’t a wolf. It was the demon. I know it. It…it did something, made something happen and that stud horse just lost it. How do you think I got out to you right away? How in the hell did I make it to you just before that stallion took his last breath. I saw him go up, I saw it all…I just….I just…knew it.” The last few words are softer.
Pa turns to look at both boys and Dean’s not sure what he is thinking. Hell, Dean is not sure what he’s thinking himself.
“So what? You’re telling me that you knew about Dean and that horse without being there? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Sam shakes his head incredulously, “Tell you what, Pa? That I see things in my dreams, that I knew something was gonna happen? That there was something evil in the woods the night that Dean got hurt?” Maybe it is the fact that Sam has actually put words to his thoughts but if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d swear that Sammy’s voice was cracking with the strain of his confession.
“Hell yes!” His father takes a step toward his brother, “You tell me when shit like that happens!”
Sam levels a gaze at his father, suddenly stronger and with a conviction that his little brother seems to have in spades. “You wouldn’ta believed me.” He spits it out humorless and harsh. “ I didn’t believe me and maybe if you had let us in on some of this shit earlier, I might have realized that it was important. I just…I just figured it was ‘cause it was Dean.” Sam’s voice softens a bit., “Christ, Pa, he’s my brother, he watches out for me and I look out for him and I dunno…” For a kid who is getting straight As at school, his brother is suddenly, inexplicably unable to formulate real words.
Dean is reeling: Sammy knew. Maybe more than Dean knew. Dean grasps at the significance.
It don’t take genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep.
Demons, the horse, the yellow-eyed wolf, his momma. It’s a horrible tangled mess but it’s starting to make sense. This is his family and this thing, this demon has ripped his family apart. Bad leg or no, pissed off father or no, crazy assed dream-walking brother or no, he’s gonna see it through to it’s inevitable conclusion.
“Listen, Pa. We need to be in this fight. We need to be in it together.” Dean’s voice is strong: his father needs to understand.
“What you boys need is to do what I say.” There is the familiar growl, punctuated by a squint at both Sam and Dean.
It’s obvious that John Winchester thinks the conversation is over, regardless of Dean or Sam or the set of balls that they both seem to have grown.
Sam stands then, all six foot four of him. Pa is up too, just as quickly and if Dean could manage it, he would be there as well. Instead he lets his head drop and his shoulders slump.
“C’mon, does this really have to happen now?” Dean’s voice has lost some of its conviction but there is anger there now, sharp and bright. He would fight his father if he needs to but he can’t handle Pa and Sam.
Neither man looks at Dean. His father and his brother stand toe to toe and they are breathing heavy and fuck, not again.
“Y’know ‘cause yesterday’s little refereeing session just about killed me and I’m really fucking tired of it.” Dean’s voice is loud and it surprises him how much bass he’s managed to drop in that one sentence.
Pa swivels his head from Sam to Dean.
“What did you say?”
“I said, I’m. Fucking. Tired.” Dean enunciates each word clearly, like he’s talking to a couple of two year olds. Dean grabs his cane, levers himself up with the help of both it and a nearby tree. Sam makes an attempt to help him, but Dean slaps his hand away, “And you,” Dean gestures roughly to Sam, “I don’t need any of your help.”
Dean tries to stalk off to Mac, but he’s right, yesterday’s flying dismount has sent today’s pain levels off the roof. He takes a step toward the big black stallion but can’t stop the involuntary hiss as his bad leg hits the ground. He ignores the pain, shoves it down someplace deep and focuses on Mac.
All he wants is to get away from Pa and Sam. To take a breath that isn’t marred by a fight.
His father’s low rumble has been a constant in Dean’s life. Sometimes it soothes, followed by a gentle brush of hand, more often it is the precursor to an open handed slap; but this is different. His father’s voice trembles and Lord knows the last time Dean heard that sound he had been in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t even sure he remembered it.
“Wait, son.”
And damn if Dean doesn’t. He stops with his back to his father and brother, eyes on the black stallion who stands contentedly in the clearing.
“Maybe you’re right.”
Dean turns, leans into his cane and faces his father.
“I am?” Dean’s truly puzzled.
“Maybe I’ve been looking at this wrong, maybe you boys should be a part of this fight,” his father drops his head hat low over his eyes then up again, squinting a little in the bright Texas sun, “Considering what I’ve heard today, maybe you always have been.”
That one sentence gives Dean the confidence he needs, “We’re stronger as a family Pa, we just are. You know it.”
Dean meets his father’s eyes.
This is right, this feels right.
A quick glance at Sam and his brother’s brief nod confirms it. Sam’s bangs are hanging in his eyes and his hat brim is shielding more than just the sun.
This family, these men, they are all that Dean has. He’s got a bum leg, an honest horse and this family.
It could be worse, he figures.
He’s a Winchester and really he can’t expect more than that.
His father’s voice is clear and Dean straightens at the sound, “C’mon boys, we’ve got work to do.”
T
end