Once upon a time, far, far away in Farmington Hills Michigan -Day 1
Day 1
Sam Winchester was tired, but then that was nothing new. He and his brother Dean were always chasing after one or another form of evil and that tended to make a body tired. The tired he was feeling today had nothing to do with the rigors of hunting. Well maybe a little.
His soul was tired and there was no amount of sleep that would help him overcome that.
Sam looked over at his brother Dean as he slept before turning his eyes back to the road; now he was physically tired. Even if he had not fallen asleep Sam knew that the man was tired the moment he threw him his keys and told Sam to drive. Sam didn’t mind driving, and would do it more often if Dean wasn’t such a dick about it, so usually he only drove when Dean was too fucked up to do so.
Even under the guise of sleep Sam could see that his brother was fucked up right now. The man might look peaceful, and younger than Sam had ever remembered him being, he knew that Dean was fighting demons in his slumber.
This made his heart tired.
It hurt because Dean was his heart and he wanted to ease the pain that his brother was experiencing right now. Their friend, pseudo-father and mentor Bobby Singer had been killed and the pair of them were still reeling from the blow. Even though he was going through the same hurt, Sam loved Dean enough to bear the pain for the both of them; not that Dean would ever let that happen.
Sam knew that Dean was feeling guilty for things that he’d done, like sending a text that appeared to have been from his girlfriend Amelia. It didn’t hurt so much that he’d seen his ex with her husband as did the fact that Dean felt that he had to trick him.
They used to believe in one another before anything else, but when you throw in trios to hell and purgatory, along with angels and demons, things like absolute trust tend to gets skewed a little. If the outer layers, the hurt, pain and disappointment, then deep down the trust and love are still there. Perhaps on a different level with Sam, but it’s there.
The neon light from the motel was like a beacon calling him in to rest. The Dew Drop Inn was what this one was called. The owner probably thought that he was original and clever, but Sam’s sure that they have stayed in one with a variation of, or even the same name. So much for originality.
This one was close to where their case is so he pulled off the exit and headed for the motel. A peripheral glance to his right told him that Dean was still sleeping so he drove past the inn and staked things out. Dean needed more than the few hours’ sleep he’d had on the drive down so Sam would like to drive around to give him the extra sleep that he needed. But he knew that once he woke Dean, the older man would become alert and wanting to tackle this new case and Sam just wanted, well Dean.
It was something that he’d stopped fighting years ago. Yeah he knew it was wrong and sick and about a million different other things, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating faster each time Dean smiled at him.
Driving around in a town where there were suspicious murders wasn’t the wisest thing to do so Sam pulled into the parking lot of the motel. As he killed the motor, Sam glanced over at Dean’s sleeping form and his breath caught in his throat.
Dean’s face was relaxed in sleep and bathed in moonlight, and it was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. He literally had to force himself not to lean over and place a kiss against the soft looking full lips.
The only thing stopping him was the fact that Dean would probably beat the ever-loving shit out of him, and he would also lose his brother in the process. To avoid the temptation that was a pliant sleeping Dean, Sam quietly opened the car door and went to the office and rented a room.
On the walk there he’d half convinced himself to get a second room and remove the temptation, but as he slid Henry Bear’s credit card to the clerk, he couldn’t do it. If this was all he ever got from Dean then that’s what he’d settle for.
Their room was in the back of the little dump with the over used pun of a name. Sam pulled in front of it and looked his fill before gently shaking Dean awake.
“Dean,” Sam called softly as he shook the slumbering man’s shoulder.
“Five more minutes,” Dean begged as he turned and buried himself into the door.
Shaking off the desire to be the door, Sam was a little more firm and shook Dean, “rise and shine princess, we’re here.”
Dean sat up in his seat and ran his hand down his face, scratched the days growth of beard before he looked around and asked, “Where’s here?”
“Thirty minutes outside Farmington Hills, Michigan,” Sam responded and he made his way to the trunk of the Impala.
Years of working together allowed the pair to work in a synchronized manner as they removed the things they needed from the trunk. Once they entered the moldy smelling room, they continued to check the room in unison for threats and a quick getaway if needed. After the small room was secure, the doors and windows were salted for protection.
Sam sat at the little table near the kitchenette and powered up his laptop and began reading up on the mysterious murders that had been taking place over the past few weeks. He opened his mouth to ask Dean a question and made the mistake of looking up, because his brother was treating him to a strip show.
It was just Dean undressing, and was never intended to be sexy, but bone deep tiredness caused the large man’s movements to slow, making this a show for Sam.
First he took off the overcoat, then the plaid shirt underneath. When one hand was caught in a buttoned sleeve, Sam smiled the adorableness of him trying to get it out. With a little work, Dean had the shirt back off and was soon removing his t-shirt.
If Sam hadn’t known better, then he would have thought Dean’s movements deliberate because he pulled up the t-shirt just enough to reveal tight abs and a treasure trail, but then he yawned releasing the cloth before reaching for the hem and pulling it back up and over his head, this time revealing his muscular chest and pink hard nipples.
Next were his pants. After making quick work of his well-worn boots (looks like a stop to Goodwill is in order), Dean slowly unbuckled his pants and slid down the zipper, causing Sam to hold his breath in anticipation and shift his hardening dick to give him more room in his pants.
Instead of just his pants, Dean was pulling down his boxer briefs as well. The cold air hitting his ass must have clued the older man in because he moved his fingers to the waist band of the jeans halting the removal of the boxers but leaving the boxers dangerously low on his hips. They were so low that the band was resting on the base of Dean’s cock causing Sam to let out the breath he was holding and release the low moan that he couldn’t.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dean turned to get into bed with his freckled ass partially exposed making Sam’s dick even harder as he imagined he could see the pink hole resting between the cheeks.
Sam watched in fascination as his sleepy brother slid under the covers of his bed, the one closest to the door. He fought the desire to slide in behind him, but then he knew that he would have to explain his hard dick poking him in the ass. There was only so much bitchiness could cover, so he thought it best that he slept in the bed near the door.
There was no way he was going to sleep, so he closed the laptop and shrugged off his coat and over shirt and made his way into the dingy little bathroom. He didn’t cringe at the uncleanliness, because he’d faced worse, instead he quickly undressed and stood under the luke-warm water and stripped his dick, and whispered his brother’s name as he came.
The next morning they were dressed in their Fed suits and standing in a small apartment on the right side of the tracks staring at the scattered remains of Ed Nelson. This was a new one.
The victim had been tied up, spread eagle and drawn and quartered.
“You find anything?” he asked Dean as the older man walked towards him putting a surprisingly well worn notebook into his pocket. Dean always scribbled in it when he was talking to victims and suspects. One day Sam was going to see what he actually wrote in it.
“Nah,” Dean responded. “This has to be supernatural right? I mean the neighbor down the hall is swearing that she heard horses, and last I checked there ain’t a livery stable for miles.”
“Livery stable?” Sam laughed before he threatened, “When we get back to the car the first thing I’m doing is hiding your stash of Gunsmoke DVD’s. Any sign of EMF?”
“Not at all,” Dean laughed as he shook his head, “what about you Festus?”
Sam smiled and shook his head and took up the argument from their childhood when they stayed in cheap motels that had no cable and could only get local channels. They sat through marathons of I Dream of Genie, The Beverly Hillbillies and Gunsmoke. Because Dean loved westerns, they watched Gunsmoke a lot.
“Why do you get to be Matt Dillon and I’m always Festus?”
“How many times do I have to tell you it’s because Dillon was the handsome one?” Dean teased.
Sam had no argument against that. Well, he did but somehow calling Dean pretty was not going to help his cause.
“I think we may have a lead,” the sheriff interrupted the pair as he thrust a cell phone towards Sam. “Meet Lance Jacobson, a thirty-one year old accountant and like our victim Ed, single with an apartment full of toys.”
Sam was confused. It would make more sense to him if this Lance Jacobson guy had been another victim, “What makes this guy a suspect?” he asked.
“Weird texts that the two sent back and forth to one another last night,” the Sheriff responded.
“Weird how?”
“Like, uh…” The Sheriff started as he flipped through a notebook similar to Deans, You shall bleed for your crimes against us followed by the emoticon of a skull followed by this beauty- I am a mage. I will destroy you! These kids these days with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning.”
“We’ll take lead on this,” Sam told the man. If they take over now he didn’t have to worry about them fucking this up. The way they were treating this, by the end of the day they’d have this chalked up to a lovers quarrel gone bad.
They didn’t get much from Lance except the fact that they were grown men playing an expensive costume game. Lance gave them the name of the Web site -Moondoor- designed by one of the players as proof that he couldn’t have killed Ed.
“Sit tight,” Dean told the scared man as they left the room to check out the site, and sure enough Lance was in enough of the photos for them to determine that he couldn’t have killed his friend, but they also got the shock of their lives.
They were both a little bored and maybe felt a little weird as they listened to the narrator talk about the fictional world as though it was real. Sam tried to ignore the fact that Dean was not as weirded by this as he pretended, and caught his big bad brother enamored by the voice over:
Moondoor. A world of intrigue, honor, passion. Four kingdoms - followers of the Moon, Elves, Warriors of yesteryear, and the dreaded Shadow Orcs. All will fight on the fields of never... in the biannual Battle of Kingdoms. Pick up a sword or a mace. Take control of Moondoor and defend the current ruler...
Charlie. The fucking queen of never-never land was none other than their missing friend Charlie Bradbury, who was a self-descried super geek and the cause of a lot of anxiety from two people who were only ever anxious about each other.
“Let’s go back in and get some answers from Harry Potter and learn what we can about our dead guys,” Dean suggested. The fact that they would see Charlie again was left unspoken.
Even if Lance hadn’t been the most photographed person at the banquet the night before, when they re-entered the interrogation room, he would have been crossed off their suspect list. Not because of any great detective work, simply because Lance’s head was lying on the table in a pool of his own blood with a new tattoo on his arm just like the one they found on Ed’s arm. Sam was grateful that Lance’s arm was still attached to his body.
Moondoor, Michigan’s largest whatever seemed to hold the answers to the mysterious deaths of Ed Nelson and Lance Jacobson. Sam wasn’t sure what to expect, but when they reached the park where the Ren Fair LARP was held every other weekend, this well organized machine was not what they expected, and when Sam voiced this to his brother, Dean shrugged his shoulders and replied, “What else would you expect from accountants and computer geeks. Their lives are built around detail.”
That fact was made certain when some idiot who called himself Boltar the Furious busted them on their fake FBI id’s. It amazed Sam that someone could be so angry about the small change in their fake badges that most law enforcement couldn’t detect, but then turn around and pretend to whip a pretend criminal in pretend stocks.
Even when the fake criminal’s fake rotten teeth fell from his mouth Boltar didn’t blink an eye he just picked up the teeth and continued on.
“If you guys are going to be here this weekend, then you have to wear the right costumes,” Boltar insisted.
Sam was going to protest again when Dean touched his arm and asked, “What could it hurt? We will fit in and find Charlie a lot quicker this way.”
Narrowing his eyes, Sam took in the earnest look on his brother’s face and knew that there was more behind this than finding the supernatural thing that was killing or finding Charlie; Dean wanted to play. It wasn’t often that Dean did, and who was Sam to deny him.
“If you do not change we will remove you from our grounds…” Boltar threatened.
Sam was sure that he and Dean could take the little accountant, or whatever nerdy occupation he had, but he had other accountants for backup and besides, since he had to put up with this shit, he’d do his best to have Dean dressed in tights.
Once they emerged from the costume tent, Sam felt somewhat better because he had gotten his wish; Dean was wearing black tights under a gray and burgundy tunic decorated with a gold cross and adorned with chainmail.
Sam was eternally grateful that the only tunic and breeches that fit him were long and loose because the sight of Dean’s bow legs encased in tights made him hard.
Once they suffered the indignity (or at least Sam did) of having to dress up in costumes, they set off to find Charlie. When they did find her, Sam had to admit that he was a little impressed because she was in the middle of a sword fight in which she was either really good or her opponent was really horrible.
Judging by the way Charlie held her sword and the moves she made with her body, Sam was going to go with the latter.
Charlie addressed her adoring crowd as she basked in her victory before turning around and spotting Sam and Dean in the crowds.
“What’s up bitches?” She asked.
“Dunno, how ‘bout you tell us,” Sam said as he crossed his arms and stood taller in front of the little redhead.
The brothers followed Charlie to a large tent that was guarded by skinny little men wearing glasses eliciting a smile from Sam.
“Okay, Charlie, what the hell is going on?” Dean asked once the flap of the tent closed.
“First my name is Carrie Heinlein, you killed Charlie Bradbury. After the whole Dick Roman fiasco, I needed a place to start over, so I found my way here on a job and found a place where I belong.” She explained. “Look guys, I’ve built a life here and I actually have friends, but if you’re here that means something supernatural is happening and I have to leave.”
“That’s not true Charlie, help us find it and we’re gone, there’s no need for you to up root yourself,” Sam told her.
“That’s right Charlie,” Dean agreed as he moved to stand if front of Charlie, “you don’t have to leave, but you need to keep in touch.”
“Okay, I can do that. Look guys I’m not sure what is happening but it’s just that some of my people got hurt, but it was nothing to think that it was supernatural.” She agreed and she walked over to a table set up as a battle field. “I was a little suspicious because they were important to helping me strategize my battle plan.”
“Well if that’s what they planned for you, then it’s best that they’re gone.” Dean said as he studied the mock battlefield Charlie had set up in her tent.
“Dean!” Charlie admonished. “It’s not that bad is it?”
Sam knew that he had lost Deans attention as his brother and Charlie began to discuss strategy, leaving Sam to find his way to the communications tent. It was the only place on the grounds that allowed technology. In the tent most people spent their down time keeping up with the real world problems that they were trying to escape.
The first available computer was next to a pretty blond girl with pretty eyes. Had he not been so in love with Dean, he would have spent some time with her. She introduced herself as Maria (Gholandria the Wicked) and seemed very interested in Sam’s research.
She proved to be helpful and gave him more pieces to the puzzle he and Dean were currently working on. There were many accidents suffered by several of the participants of the Moondoor enactors. At first Sam believed that it was one camp against another, but it seemed that the victims came from all of the camps so that put an end to that theory.
Once he was finished with his research, Sam turned to thank his new friend when his phone rang; it was Garth Checking back concerning the research they’d given him. It seemed that the new Bobby knew what he was doing. He wasn’t as good as the original, but he’d do.
Placing his phone in the pouch that was part of his costume, Sam was stopped by Maria, “Sorry, but there are no phones on the grounds, you need to check it in and it will be given back to you at the end of the weekend.
Sam hesitated about giving up his phone and the only reason he didn’t was because he knew very well that Dean still had his. He needed to tell him to make sure that the ringer was on mute so that the phone police wouldn’t pat him down.
“Thanks, again for the help,” Sam told her after he checked his phone in.
“You’re welcome Sam, “she returned as she reached out and touched his arm and said something in Latin. He was totally not expecting the charge that went through him as the petite woman’s hand made contact with the exposed skin on his arm. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed and for some reason he hoped that he would. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong pull to a woman he’d only met thirty minutes ago. The feelings surprised him because Dean has been the only person in - well forever that even came close to making him feel like this.
Giving the woman another quick glance Sam fought the urge to stay with the woman before racing off to find Dean and Charlie.
Maria was still rivaling with Dean in Sam’s thought when he stepped outside the tech tent and made his way back to Charlie’s tent. Both were expelled from his mind when he made his way back to the stocks that he’s passed only an hour before.
This time instead of seeing a bloated desk jockey pretending to be punished, he was greeted by a man with teeth so bad that he could smell them from where he stood nearly a foot away. The man now sported a black eye, a split lip and whip marks on various parts of his body, all of which looked to be infected.
What. The. Fuck.
Holding his breath, Sam stepped closer to examine the man and the stench emanating from his body almost made his pass out. He was sure that this was the same man, but between the trip to Charlie’s tent and the tech tent this man’s fantasy had become real.
“’elp me mate,” the man begged through parched, cracked lips. From what Sam could see his tongue was swollen from lack of hydration.
Sam was shocked at what he was seeing. These people were fanatical about their games, so this could be elaborate make-up, but Sam didn’t really think so because there is no makeup in the world that could explain the odor coming from the man’s body.
After finding a water bucket nearby, Sam scooped up a ladle full of water and gave to the man, wincing as he drank through his sore mouth.
“Hold on man, I’ll be back,” Sam promised as he turned towards Charlie’s tent.
He had to find Dean.
Running, Sam made a beeline to Charlie’s tent. He would have gotten there sooner if he hadn’t had to dodge waste (both food and human) being thrown out of the tents he was passing and stepping in dog shit.
At least he thought that it was dog shit although some of the piles that he was dodging were so huge that he would rather face a hell hound.
After dodging the shit and pots full of human waste being thrown from the tents, he was in no mood to deal with weekend warriors with wooden swords who now greeted him at Charlie’s tent.
“Dean,” Sam, huffed breathlessly as he burst past the guards and into the luxurious tent. “Something is off here, the fat guy we saw in the stocks, he’s real now.”
“Oh, Sam,” Charlie smiled at him, “Thank you for finally embracing us.”
“No, Charlie, I don’t know how but he’s real! Okay, he’s always been real, but not like this. The rotten teeth, the sores and the goddamn smell were not a part of my imagination.”
Dean was grinning at Sam’s announcement, but one glance at Sam’s face told the older Winchester that this was real, Sam wasn’t playing the game, and he was still on the job and had found something. Sam thought that he was going to have to do more to convince Dean that this was not part of the Moondoor experience, but he saw the change in his brother’s stance and he knew that Dean believed him.
“C’mon, Sammy, show me,” he demanded already heading out the door.
“Dean surely you don’t believe this?” Charlie asked. “It’s just some great makeup.”
Dean was already out of the door so Sam was sure that he didn’t hear Charlie, because he’d barely heard as he was right on Dean’s heels.
When they reached the stocks, they were empty, the only thing they found was a wet spot on the ground that seemed to be a combination off urine and blood, but other than that there was no sign of the man. Boltar and another man were there in his stead.
“Where’d he go?” Dean demanded.
“He’s been released to his tribe,” Boltar explained to them, “or rather, they came and released him. “Even a mage as powerful as me couldn’t stop the Shadow Orcs en masse. Instead of fighting, we came to an agreement and let him go.”
“Oh, please shut the fuck up,” Dean told the man. “I can’t deal with a real witch on a good day; there is no way in hell I’m going to put up with shit from a fake one.”
Dean was all business as he searched the area around the stockade. There was no trace of the man, and they weren’t allowed to have their EMF readers or they would be kicked off the grounds, so this was going to be and old-fashioned hunt.
The only clue they had were the stocks themselves, but they were just as confusing. A closer inspection revealed dried blood, bits of bone and hair. The hair was the wrong color and length to be the last known residents and this left Sam confused.
This stock was real. Before it looked to be treated wood from Home Depot, but this was hand hewn lumber with wood pegs instead of nails. Not only was it more authentic and looked as though it should be in a museum, it had also seen a lot of use.
“What happened to the stocks that were here before?” Sam asked Charlie.
“Those are the same stocks, Sam,” Charlie told him as she looked at Sam sideways because she thought that he was losing it. She kept cutting looks to both brothers and furrowed her brow at Dean’s investigation.
The look on her face said that she thought that Sam was crazy and had somehow convinced Dean to drink the Kool-Aid.
His only saving grace was that Dean seemed to believe him and continued to investigate despite Charlie’s misgivings.
That feeling of confidence lasted until the two of them were alone in the tent that Charlie set aside for them.
“Sam,” Dean started. Sam knew that by the way his brother hesitated that he was not going to like what he had to say. “Are you-were you sure of what you saw, because off distance some of the make-up can look a little real. These are geeks, but they are professional geeks and some may be great at makeup.”
“We have enough on our plates without me having to make up shit, Dean. Besides, no make-up can make me smell to foul odor that was coming off Quasimodo.”
Dean nodded his head in agreement, “then we have to figure out if this is part of our original investigation or something new, but this feels different.”
“I think that you’re right,” Sam agreed. “There another thing, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’m being followed.”
“You’ve caught the eye of some chick looking for her prince charming Sam, look around you; you’re the answer to a maidens dream. You’ve got several eyes on you. I suggest that you check your body for a tree tattoo, until that shows up on your body, you don’t have anything to worry about. Tomorrow you can go back to the tech tent and do some more research. We can’t be out of range so I’ve managed to keep the portable charger and my phone. Tomorrow Charlie and I are going to try to get some of the other groups to talk, so I’m gonna turn in.”
Sam sat on the cot across room from his brother and watched as the older man stripped from his costume and threw the smart phone with the connected charger to him. He really should have been trying to contact Garth, but Dean was undressing again.
No matter how often he witnessed the sight he would never tire of watching Dean expose his body. This was another of those nights where he could pretend that the show was just for him.
Dean removed the tights, and oh fuck, he had gone commando. Just as he began to enjoy his private striptease, a goddamn swarm (okay maybe two) of mosquitoes chose that moment to attack him and by the time he’d swatted them away, Dean was dressed in a pair cloth pants. Even though he was covered, the soft swell of his cock was visible making Sam forget the itching and felt his own dick began to swell up in his own costume.
“You shy all of a sudden?” Dean teased as he threw similar pair of cloth pants towards him. “I know that shit’s not that comfortable put these on.”
Training wasn’t as often as when they were kids, and there was no need to train when you lived the reality each day. Despite the lack of training, Sam was proud of his body, and didn’t mind flaunting it in front of Dean. He felt a spark of pride when he thought that he saw Dean take an appreciative look in his direction.
When Dean lay down in his cot, it was with his back turned to Sam giving him a perfect view of that perfect ass, even more visible in the soft cloth that he wore. He was about to slip his hand in his own breeches when he heard trumpets blow outside of their tent.
Both he and Dean jumped to their feet as the flap to the tent was opened and guards wearing what he recognized as Charlie’s crest of a half-moon wearing a crown, in the middle of small circles, entered.
“What the fuck, man?” Dean asked echoing Sam’s outrage.
Ignoring the protest, the first man to enter the tent stepped forward.
“The queen requests the presence of her handmaiden, Dean Winchester before her at this time.”
“Okay, we really gotta get over this handmaiden thing, and really? Charlie is summoning me.”
Sam laughed, because he could tell that Dean was geeking out at the guard’s new uniforms. They had armored breastplates with metal caplets peeking from under the red tunics.
They wore black tights with knee length leather boots and the most authentic swords that Sam had ever seen. They looked extremely sharp and Sam wasn’t sure why Charlie didn’t caution her fellow computer nerds to carry something little less dangerous.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam began to tease until he noticed that his brother was dressing to follow these guys.
With a careless, “I’ll see you later,” Dean was gone.
Sam looked across the room to the now empty cot, and let out a sigh a little frustrated that his eye candy was gone. Getting back on his own cot, he closed his eyes and realized that he didn’t need the real thing, his fantasy was good enough.
After a few rough pulls, he was spilling warm and hot over his own hand calling out Dean’s name before falling into a deep sleep.
The dream seemed so fucking real. It involved a dragon, Dean, a dragon fucking Dean and the girl he met in the tech tent the day before. The girl, Maria was her name, held the dragon enthralled until Dean appeared and suddenly he pushed her aside.
The thing that really confused Sam was that he was sure that he was the dragon. He didn’t understand it but as long as he got to bury himself into Deans body, it didn’t matter what form his body was in.
As he rolled off the cot he’d slept uncomfortably on, the stickiness of his borrowed breeches told him that his body thought the dream was reals as well. He glanced over at Dean because he did not want to be teased by the older man.
It didn’t matter because the other cot was still empty and Sam was not sure if he never came back or if he left early, so he dressed quickly in the costume to search for his brother. He wanted to find Dean and get this case solved so they could get away from Moondoor, because this place was giving him the creeps.
Once he threw open the door to the tent, he was greeted by Maria who seemed to have been waiting for him.
“Hi, Sam,” she greeted enthusiastically and shoved a tray at him. “I prepared breakfast for you.”
In the back of his mind Sam thought that he should be put off with her being here, but he smiled and greeted her with a warm hello.
As Sam walked towards her, a part of him was screaming this was wrong and another was screaming yes just as loudly. He couldn’t understand why he was so conflicted because he had a pretty girl waiting to serve him breakfast as well as her.
Sam gave in and stopped fighting and was going to take what was on offer. Just as he reached Maria - no, Gholandria, the pretty girl and his growling stomach were both overshadowed by the huge fucking castle that had sprung up overnight.
Day 2
Sam Winchester was tired, but then that was nothing new. He and his brother Dean were always chasing after one or another form of evil and that tended to make a body tired. The tired he was feeling today had nothing to do with the rigors of hunting. Well maybe a little.
His soul was tired and there was no amount of sleep that would help him overcome that.
Sam looked over at his brother Dean as he slept before turning his eyes back to the road; now he was physically tired. Even if he had not fallen asleep Sam knew that the man was tired the moment he threw him his keys and told Sam to drive. Sam didn’t mind driving, and would do it more often if Dean wasn’t such a dick about it, so usually he only drove when Dean was too fucked up to do so.
Even under the guise of sleep Sam could see that his brother was fucked up right now. The man might look peaceful, and younger than Sam had ever remembered him being, he knew that Dean was fighting demons in his slumber.
This made his heart tired.
It hurt because Dean was his heart and he wanted to ease the pain that his brother was experiencing right now. Their friend, pseudo-father and mentor Bobby Singer had been killed and the pair of them were still reeling from the blow. Even though he was going through the same hurt, Sam loved Dean enough to bear the pain for the both of them; not that Dean would ever let that happen.
Sam knew that Dean was feeling guilty for things that he’d done, like sending a text that appeared to have been from his girlfriend Amelia. It didn’t hurt so much that he’d seen his ex with her husband as did the fact that Dean felt that he had to trick him.
They used to believe in one another before anything else, but when you throw in trios to hell and purgatory, along with angels and demons, things like absolute trust tend to gets skewed a little. If the outer layers, the hurt, pain and disappointment, then deep down the trust and love are still there. Perhaps on a different level with Sam, but it’s there.
The neon light from the motel was like a beacon calling him in to rest. The Dew Drop Inn was what this one was called. The owner probably thought that he was original and clever, but Sam’s sure that they have stayed in one with a variation of, or even the same name. So much for originality.
This one was close to where their case is so he pulled off the exit and headed for the motel. A peripheral glance to his right told him that Dean was still sleeping so he drove past the inn and staked things out. Dean needed more than the few hours’ sleep he’d had on the drive down so Sam would like to drive around to give him the extra sleep that he needed. But he knew that once he woke Dean, the older man would become alert and wanting to tackle this new case and Sam just wanted, well Dean.
It was something that he’d stopped fighting years ago. Yeah he knew it was wrong and sick and about a million different other things, but that didn’t stop his heart from beating faster each time Dean smiled at him.
Driving around in a town where there were suspicious murders wasn’t the wisest thing to do so Sam pulled into the parking lot of the motel. As he killed the motor, Sam glanced over at Dean’s sleeping form and his breath caught in his throat.
Dean’s face was relaxed in sleep and bathed in moonlight, and it was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. He literally had to force himself not to lean over and place a kiss against the soft looking full lips.
The only thing stopping him was the fact that Dean would probably beat the ever-loving shit out of him, and he would also lose his brother in the process. To avoid the temptation that was a pliant sleeping Dean, Sam quietly opened the car door and went to the office and rented a room.
On the walk there he’d half convinced himself to get a second room and remove the temptation, but as he slid Henry Bear’s credit card to the clerk, he couldn’t do it. If this was all he ever got from Dean then that’s what he’d settle for.
Their room was in the back of the little dump with the over used pun of a name. Sam pulled in front of it and looked his fill before gently shaking Dean awake.
“Dean,” Sam called softly as he shook the slumbering man’s shoulder.
“Five more minutes,” Dean begged as he turned and buried himself into the door.
Shaking off the desire to be the door, Sam was a little more firm and shook Dean, “rise and shine princess, we’re here.”
Dean sat up in his seat and ran his hand down his face, scratched the days growth of beard before he looked around and asked, “Where’s here?”
“Thirty minutes outside Farmington Hills, Michigan,” Sam responded and he made his way to the trunk of the Impala.
Years of working together allowed the pair to work in a synchronized manner as they removed the things they needed from the trunk. Once they entered the moldy smelling room, they continued to check the room in unison for threats and a quick getaway if needed. After the small room was secure, the doors and windows were salted for protection.
Sam sat at the little table near the kitchenette and powered up his laptop and began reading up on the mysterious murders that had been taking place over the past few weeks. He opened his mouth to ask Dean a question and made the mistake of looking up, because his brother was treating him to a strip show.
It was just Dean undressing, and was never intended to be sexy, but bone deep tiredness caused the large man’s movements to slow, making this a show for Sam.
First he took off the overcoat, then the plaid shirt underneath. When one hand was caught in a buttoned sleeve, Sam smiled the adorableness of him trying to get it out. With a little work, Dean had the shirt back off and was soon removing his t-shirt.
If Sam hadn’t known better, then he would have thought Dean’s movements deliberate because he pulled up the t-shirt just enough to reveal tight abs and a treasure trail, but then he yawned releasing the cloth before reaching for the hem and pulling it back up and over his head, this time revealing his muscular chest and pink hard nipples.
Next were his pants. After making quick work of his well-worn boots (looks like a stop to Goodwill is in order), Dean slowly unbuckled his pants and slid down the zipper, causing Sam to hold his breath in anticipation and shift his hardening dick to give him more room in his pants.
Instead of just his pants, Dean was pulling down his boxer briefs as well. The cold air hitting his ass must have clued the older man in because he moved his fingers to the waist band of the jeans halting the removal of the boxers but leaving the boxers dangerously low on his hips. They were so low that the band was resting on the base of Dean’s cock causing Sam to let out the breath he was holding and release the low moan that he couldn’t.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dean turned to get into bed with his freckled ass partially exposed making Sam’s dick even harder as he imagined he could see the pink hole resting between the cheeks.
Sam watched in fascination as his sleepy brother slid under the covers of his bed, the one closest to the door. He fought the desire to slide in behind him, but then he knew that he would have to explain his hard dick poking him in the ass. There was only so much bitchiness could cover, so he thought it best that he slept in the bed near the door.
There was no way he was going to sleep, so he closed the laptop and shrugged off his coat and over shirt and made his way into the dingy little bathroom. He didn’t cringe at the uncleanliness, because he’d faced worse, instead he quickly undressed and stood under the luke-warm water and stripped his dick, and whispered his brother’s name as he came.
The next morning they were dressed in their Fed suits and standing in a small apartment on the right side of the tracks staring at the scattered remains of Ed Nelson. This was a new one.
The victim had been tied up, spread eagle and drawn and quartered.
“You find anything?” he asked Dean as the older man walked towards him putting a surprisingly well worn notebook into his pocket. Dean always scribbled in it when he was talking to victims and suspects. One day Sam was going to see what he actually wrote in it.
“Nah,” Dean responded. “This has to be supernatural right? I mean the neighbor down the hall is swearing that she heard horses, and last I checked there ain’t a livery stable for miles.”
“Livery stable?” Sam laughed before he threatened, “When we get back to the car the first thing I’m doing is hiding your stash of Gunsmoke DVD’s. Any sign of EMF?”
“Not at all,” Dean laughed as he shook his head, “what about you Festus?”
Sam smiled and shook his head and took up the argument from their childhood when they stayed in cheap motels that had no cable and could only get local channels. They sat through marathons of I Dream of Genie, The Beverly Hillbillies and Gunsmoke. Because Dean loved westerns, they watched Gunsmoke a lot.
“Why do you get to be Matt Dillon and I’m always Festus?”
“How many times do I have to tell you it’s because Dillon was the handsome one?” Dean teased.
Sam had no argument against that. Well, he did but somehow calling Dean pretty was not going to help his cause.
“I think we may have a lead,” the sheriff interrupted the pair as he thrust a cell phone towards Sam. “Meet Lance Jacobson, a thirty-one year old accountant and like our victim Ed, single with an apartment full of toys.”
Sam was confused. It would make more sense to him if this Lance Jacobson guy had been another victim, “What makes this guy a suspect?” he asked.
“Weird texts that the two sent back and forth to one another last night,” the Sheriff responded.
“Weird how?”
“Like, uh…” The Sheriff started as he flipped through a notebook similar to Deans, You shall bleed for your crimes against us followed by the emoticon of a skull followed by this beauty- I am a mage. I will destroy you! These kids these days with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning.”
“We’ll take lead on this,” Sam told the man. If they take over now he didn’t have to worry about them fucking this up. The way they were treating this, by the end of the day they’d have this chalked up to a lovers quarrel gone bad.
They didn’t get much from Lance except the fact that they were grown men playing an expensive costume game. Lance gave them the name of the Web site -Moondoor- designed by one of the players as proof that he couldn’t have killed Ed.
“Sit tight,” Dean told the scared man as they left the room to check out the site, and sure enough Lance was in enough of the photos for them to determine that he couldn’t have killed his friend, but they also got the shock of their lives.
They were both a little bored and maybe felt a little weird as they listened to the narrator talk about the fictional world as though it was real. Sam tried to ignore the fact that Dean was not as weirded by this as he pretended, and caught his big bad brother enamored by the voice over:
Moondoor. A world of intrigue, honor, passion. Four kingdoms - followers of the Moon, Elves, Warriors of yesteryear, and the dreaded Shadow Orcs. All will fight on the fields of never... in the biannual Battle of Kingdoms. Pick up a sword or a mace. Take control of Moondoor and defend the current ruler...
Charlie. The fucking queen of never-never land was none other than their missing friend Charlie Bradbury, who was a self-descried super geek and the cause of a lot of anxiety from two people who were only ever anxious about each other.
“Let’s go back in and get some answers from Harry Potter and learn what we can about our dead guys,” Dean suggested. The fact that they would see Charlie again was left unspoken.
Even if Lance hadn’t been the most photographed person at the banquet the night before, when they re-entered the interrogation room, he would have been crossed off their suspect list. Not because of any great detective work, simply because Lance’s head was lying on the table in a pool of his own blood with a new tattoo on his arm just like the one they found on Ed’s arm. Sam was grateful that Lance’s arm was still attached to his body.
Moondoor, Michigan’s largest whatever seemed to hold the answers to the mysterious deaths of Ed Nelson and Lance Jacobson. Sam wasn’t sure what to expect, but when they reached the park where the Ren Fair LARP was held every other weekend, this well organized machine was not what they expected, and when Sam voiced this to his brother, Dean shrugged his shoulders and replied, “What else would you expect from accountants and computer geeks. Their lives are built around detail.”
That fact was made certain when some idiot who called himself Boltar the Furious busted them on their fake FBI id’s. It amazed Sam that someone could be so angry about the small change in their fake badges that most law enforcement couldn’t detect, but then turn around and pretend to whip a pretend criminal in pretend stocks.
Even when the fake criminal’s fake rotten teeth fell from his mouth Boltar didn’t blink an eye he just picked up the teeth and continued on.
“If you guys are going to be here this weekend, then you have to wear the right costumes,” Boltar insisted.
Sam was going to protest again when Dean touched his arm and asked, “What could it hurt? We will fit in and find Charlie a lot quicker this way.”
Narrowing his eyes, Sam took in the earnest look on his brother’s face and knew that there was more behind this than finding the supernatural thing that was killing or finding Charlie; Dean wanted to play. It wasn’t often that Dean did, and who was Sam to deny him.
“If you do not change we will remove you from our grounds…” Boltar threatened.
Sam was sure that he and Dean could take the little accountant, or whatever nerdy occupation he had, but he had other accountants for backup and besides, since he had to put up with this shit, he’d do his best to have Dean dressed in tights.
Once they emerged from the costume tent, Sam felt somewhat better because he had gotten his wish; Dean was wearing black tights under a gray and burgundy tunic decorated with a gold cross and adorned with chainmail.
Sam was eternally grateful that the only tunic and breeches that fit him were long and loose because the sight of Dean’s bow legs encased in tights made him hard.
Once they suffered the indignity (or at least Sam did) of having to dress up in costumes, they set off to find Charlie. When they did find her, Sam had to admit that he was a little impressed because she was in the middle of a sword fight in which she was either really good or her opponent was really horrible.
Judging by the way Charlie held her sword and the moves she made with her body, Sam was going to go with the latter.
Charlie addressed her adoring crowd as she basked in her victory before turning around and spotting Sam and Dean in the crowds.
“What’s up bitches?” She asked.
“Dunno, how ‘bout you tell us,” Sam said as he crossed his arms and stood taller in front of the little redhead.
The brothers followed Charlie to a large tent that was guarded by skinny little men wearing glasses eliciting a smile from Sam.
“Okay, Charlie, what the hell is going on?” Dean asked once the flap of the tent closed.
“First my name is Carrie Heinlein, you killed Charlie Bradbury. After the whole Dick Roman fiasco, I needed a place to start over, so I found my way here on a job and found a place where I belong.” She explained. “Look guys, I’ve built a life here and I actually have friends, but if you’re here that means something supernatural is happening and I have to leave.”
“That’s not true Charlie, help us find it and we’re gone, there’s no need for you to up root yourself,” Sam told her.
“That’s right Charlie,” Dean agreed as he moved to stand if front of Charlie, “you don’t have to leave, but you need to keep in touch.”
“Okay, I can do that. Look guys I’m not sure what is happening but it’s just that some of my people got hurt, but it was nothing to think that it was supernatural.” She agreed and she walked over to a table set up as a battle field. “I was a little suspicious because they were important to helping me strategize my battle plan.”
“Well if that’s what they planned for you, then it’s best that they’re gone.” Dean said as he studied the mock battlefield Charlie had set up in her tent.
“Dean!” Charlie admonished. “It’s not that bad is it?”
Sam knew that he had lost Deans attention as his brother and Charlie began to discuss strategy, leaving Sam to find his way to the communications tent. It was the only place on the grounds that allowed technology. In the tent most people spent their down time keeping up with the real world problems that they were trying to escape.
The first available computer was next to a pretty blond girl with pretty eyes. Had he not been so in love with Dean, he would have spent some time with her. She introduced herself as Maria (Gholandria the Wicked) and seemed very interested in Sam’s research.
She proved to be helpful and gave him more pieces to the puzzle he and Dean were currently working on. There were many accidents suffered by several of the participants of the Moondoor enactors. At first Sam believed that it was one camp against another, but it seemed that the victims came from all of the camps so that put an end to that theory.
Once he was finished with his research, Sam turned to thank his new friend when his phone rang; it was Garth Checking back concerning the research they’d given him. It seemed that the new Bobby knew what he was doing. He wasn’t as good as the original, but he’d do.
Placing his phone in the pouch that was part of his costume, Sam was stopped by Maria, “Sorry, but there are no phones on the grounds, you need to check it in and it will be given back to you at the end of the weekend.
Sam hesitated about giving up his phone and the only reason he didn’t was because he knew very well that Dean still had his. He needed to tell him to make sure that the ringer was on mute so that the phone police wouldn’t pat him down.
“Thanks, again for the help,” Sam told her after he checked his phone in.
“You’re welcome Sam, “she returned as she reached out and touched his arm and said something in Latin. He was totally not expecting the charge that went through him as the petite woman’s hand made contact with the exposed skin on his arm. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed and for some reason he hoped that he would. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong pull to a woman he’d only met thirty minutes ago. The feelings surprised him because Dean has been the only person in - well forever that even came close to making him feel like this.
Giving the woman another quick glance Sam fought the urge to stay with the woman before racing off to find Dean and Charlie.
Maria was still rivaling with Dean in Sam’s thought when he stepped outside the tech tent and made his way back to Charlie’s tent. Both were expelled from his mind when he made his way back to the stocks that he’s passed only an hour before.
This time instead of seeing a bloated desk jockey pretending to be punished, he was greeted by a man with teeth so bad that he could smell them from where he stood nearly a foot away. The man now sported a black eye, a split lip and whip marks on various parts of his body, all of which looked to be infected.
What. The. Fuck.
Holding his breath, Sam stepped closer to examine the man and the stench emanating from his body almost made his pass out. He was sure that this was the same man, but between the trip to Charlie’s tent and the tech tent this man’s fantasy had become real.
“’elp me mate,” the man begged through parched, cracked lips. From what Sam could see his tongue was swollen from lack of hydration.
Sam was shocked at what he was seeing. These people were fanatical about their games, so this could be elaborate make-up, but Sam didn’t really think so because there is no makeup in the world that could explain the odor coming from the man’s body.
After finding a water bucket nearby, Sam scooped up a ladle full of water and gave to the man, wincing as he drank through his sore mouth.
“Hold on man, I’ll be back,” Sam promised as he turned towards Charlie’s tent.
He had to find Dean.
Running, Sam made a beeline to Charlie’s tent. He would have gotten there sooner if he hadn’t had to dodge waste (both food and human) being thrown out of the tents he was passing and stepping in dog shit.
At least he thought that it was dog shit although some of the piles that he was dodging were so huge that he would rather face a hell hound.
After dodging the shit and pots full of human waste being thrown from the tents, he was in no mood to deal with weekend warriors with wooden swords who now greeted him at Charlie’s tent.
“Dean,” Sam, huffed breathlessly as he burst past the guards and into the luxurious tent. “Something is off here, the fat guy we saw in the stocks, he’s real now.”
“Oh, Sam,” Charlie smiled at him, “Thank you for finally embracing us.”
“No, Charlie, I don’t know how but he’s real! Okay, he’s always been real, but not like this. The rotten teeth, the sores and the goddamn smell were not a part of my imagination.”
Dean was grinning at Sam’s announcement, but one glance at Sam’s face told the older Winchester that this was real, Sam wasn’t playing the game, and he was still on the job and had found something. Sam thought that he was going to have to do more to convince Dean that this was not part of the Moondoor experience, but he saw the change in his brother’s stance and he knew that Dean believed him.
“C’mon, Sammy, show me,” he demanded already heading out the door.
“Dean surely you don’t believe this?” Charlie asked. “It’s just some great makeup.”
Dean was already out of the door so Sam was sure that he didn’t hear Charlie, because he’d barely heard as he was right on Dean’s heels.
When they reached the stocks, they were empty, the only thing they found was a wet spot on the ground that seemed to be a combination off urine and blood, but other than that there was no sign of the man. Boltar and another man were there in his stead.
“Where’d he go?” Dean demanded.
“He’s been released to his tribe,” Boltar explained to them, “or rather, they came and released him. “Even a mage as powerful as me couldn’t stop the Shadow Orcs en masse. Instead of fighting, we came to an agreement and let him go.”
“Oh, please shut the fuck up,” Dean told the man. “I can’t deal with a real witch on a good day; there is no way in hell I’m going to put up with shit from a fake one.”
Dean was all business as he searched the area around the stockade. There was no trace of the man, and they weren’t allowed to have their EMF readers or they would be kicked off the grounds, so this was going to be and old-fashioned hunt.
The only clue they had were the stocks themselves, but they were just as confusing. A closer inspection revealed dried blood, bits of bone and hair. The hair was the wrong color and length to be the last known residents and this left Sam confused.
This stock was real. Before it looked to be treated wood from Home Depot, but this was hand hewn lumber with wood pegs instead of nails. Not only was it more authentic and looked as though it should be in a museum, it had also seen a lot of use.
“What happened to the stocks that were here before?” Sam asked Charlie.
“Those are the same stocks, Sam,” Charlie told him as she looked at Sam sideways because she thought that he was losing it. She kept cutting looks to both brothers and furrowed her brow at Dean’s investigation.
The look on her face said that she thought that Sam was crazy and had somehow convinced Dean to drink the Kool-Aid.
His only saving grace was that Dean seemed to believe him and continued to investigate despite Charlie’s misgivings.
That feeling of confidence lasted until the two of them were alone in the tent that Charlie set aside for them.
“Sam,” Dean started. Sam knew that by the way his brother hesitated that he was not going to like what he had to say. “Are you-were you sure of what you saw, because off distance some of the make-up can look a little real. These are geeks, but they are professional geeks and some may be great at makeup.”
“We have enough on our plates without me having to make up shit, Dean. Besides, no make-up can make me smell to foul odor that was coming off Quasimodo.”
Dean nodded his head in agreement, “then we have to figure out if this is part of our original investigation or something new, but this feels different.”
“I think that you’re right,” Sam agreed. “There another thing, I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’m being followed.”
“You’ve caught the eye of some chick looking for her prince charming Sam, look around you; you’re the answer to a maidens dream. You’ve got several eyes on you. I suggest that you check your body for a tree tattoo, until that shows up on your body, you don’t have anything to worry about. Tomorrow you can go back to the tech tent and do some more research. We can’t be out of range so I’ve managed to keep the portable charger and my phone. Tomorrow Charlie and I are going to try to get some of the other groups to talk, so I’m gonna turn in.”
Sam sat on the cot across room from his brother and watched as the older man stripped from his costume and threw the smart phone with the connected charger to him. He really should have been trying to contact Garth, but Dean was undressing again.
No matter how often he witnessed the sight he would never tire of watching Dean expose his body. This was another of those nights where he could pretend that the show was just for him.
Dean removed the tights, and oh fuck, he had gone commando. Just as he began to enjoy his private striptease, a goddamn swarm (okay maybe two) of mosquitoes chose that moment to attack him and by the time he’d swatted them away, Dean was dressed in a pair cloth pants. Even though he was covered, the soft swell of his cock was visible making Sam forget the itching and felt his own dick began to swell up in his own costume.
“You shy all of a sudden?” Dean teased as he threw similar pair of cloth pants towards him. “I know that shit’s not that comfortable put these on.”
Training wasn’t as often as when they were kids, and there was no need to train when you lived the reality each day. Despite the lack of training, Sam was proud of his body, and didn’t mind flaunting it in front of Dean. He felt a spark of pride when he thought that he saw Dean take an appreciative look in his direction.
When Dean lay down in his cot, it was with his back turned to Sam giving him a perfect view of that perfect ass, even more visible in the soft cloth that he wore. He was about to slip his hand in his own breeches when he heard trumpets blow outside of their tent.
Both he and Dean jumped to their feet as the flap to the tent was opened and guards wearing what he recognized as Charlie’s crest of a half-moon wearing a crown, in the middle of small circles, entered.
“What the fuck, man?” Dean asked echoing Sam’s outrage.
Ignoring the protest, the first man to enter the tent stepped forward.
“The queen requests the presence of her handmaiden, Dean Winchester before her at this time.”
“Okay, we really gotta get over this handmaiden thing, and really? Charlie is summoning me.”
Sam laughed, because he could tell that Dean was geeking out at the guard’s new uniforms. They had armored breastplates with metal caplets peeking from under the red tunics.
They wore black tights with knee length leather boots and the most authentic swords that Sam had ever seen. They looked extremely sharp and Sam wasn’t sure why Charlie didn’t caution her fellow computer nerds to carry something little less dangerous.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam began to tease until he noticed that his brother was dressing to follow these guys.
With a careless, “I’ll see you later,” Dean was gone.
Sam looked across the room to the now empty cot, and let out a sigh a little frustrated that his eye candy was gone. Getting back on his own cot, he closed his eyes and realized that he didn’t need the real thing, his fantasy was good enough.
After a few rough pulls, he was spilling warm and hot over his own hand calling out Dean’s name before falling into a deep sleep.
The dream seemed so fucking real. It involved a dragon, Dean, a dragon fucking Dean and the girl he met in the tech tent the day before. The girl, Maria was her name, held the dragon enthralled until Dean appeared and suddenly he pushed her aside.
The thing that really confused Sam was that he was sure that he was the dragon. He didn’t understand it but as long as he got to bury himself into Deans body, it didn’t matter what form his body was in.
As he rolled off the cot he’d slept uncomfortably on, the stickiness of his borrowed breeches told him that his body thought the dream was reals as well. He glanced over at Dean because he did not want to be teased by the older man.
It didn’t matter because the other cot was still empty and Sam was not sure if he never came back or if he left early, so he dressed quickly in the costume to search for his brother. He wanted to find Dean and get this case solved so they could get away from Moondoor, because this place was giving him the creeps.
Once he threw open the door to the tent, he was greeted by Maria who seemed to have been waiting for him.
“Hi, Sam,” she greeted enthusiastically and shoved a tray at him. “I prepared breakfast for you.”
In the back of his mind Sam thought that he should be put off with her being here, but he smiled and greeted her with a warm hello.
As Sam walked towards her, a part of him was screaming this was wrong and another was screaming yes just as loudly. He couldn’t understand why he was so conflicted because he had a pretty girl waiting to serve him breakfast as well as her.
Sam gave in and stopped fighting and was going to take what was on offer. Just as he reached Maria - no, Gholandria, the pretty girl and his growling stomach were both overshadowed by the huge fucking castle that had sprung up overnight.
Day 2