Fic: Die Another Day 7/? PG:13 SPN/HL/Deadwood
Title: Die Another Day
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: SPN: 7.10 Death's Door, HL: 5.20 Archangel, Deadwood: 3.11 The Catbird Seat
Crossover, AU
Summary: When Bobby mysteriously disappears from the hospital after an encounter with the Leviathan Sam and Dean think they know what’s behind it. But the truth is beyond any of their wildest dreams and will change the way they see the older hunter forever. Spoilers all episodes up to 7.10 "Death's Door" Supernatural/Highlander/Deadwood crossover.
A/N: I know I've said it before, but I just wanted to take a moment to thank everybody reading and following my little ramblings, especially those who've left a review. It really feels good to know that others are enjoying the ride with me. I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter of Sands of Time: Beginnings, so that'll be the next story updated.
OK, I'm trying something new: a flashback. The flashback sequences were often my favorite part of the Highlander series (who could ever forget the over the top Regency house party with Methos, Byron and the Shelleys in season five's The Modern Prometheus?), so I'm giving it a whirl and showing you all a glimpse of Deadwood, ca. 1877. I hope it works, trying to capture William Sanderson's portrayal of E.B. Farnum and getting right the unique dialog and speech patterns that Deadwood creator David Milch wove into the show was trickier than I thought it'd be.
Thanks, as always, to dnachemlia for making sense of my ramblings.
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oooOOOoooDean watched silently as the two Immortals reacted to some unseen force: Richie merely stiffened and looked toward the door while Bobby once again winced and pressed the heels of his hands into his temples.
"Bobby?" Richie frowned as a hiss of pain escaped from the older hunter's lips. "Dude, what's wrong?" But any response from Bobby was halted as a pair of voices announced the new arrivals.
"Adam, for the love of God will you please give it a rest?"
"Look, I'm not saying you can't listen to your music at all, MacLeod. I'm just saying would it kill you to listen to a little Springsteen now and then?"
"Listen old man-"
"Rolling Stones? Queen?"
"Enough!"
Dean turned his head just in time to see the two men enter the room. While both were tall with short dark hair, that was where the similarity between them ended. Dean recognized the first man's voice as belonging to MacLeod. He was broad shouldered and muscular, and by the way he carried himself Dean could tell he was someone who actually needed to be in shape, rather than one of those ass-clowns who were always going on about 'six packs' and 'glutes.' Like Richie, this man was a warrior.
The second through the door Dean assumed was Adam. Once upon a time he'd accused Cas of looking like a 'Holy Tax Accountant,' and as he studied the man Dean thought to himself that the description was just as appropriate for Adam. Like Cas he wore a suit and tie, his slender build swallowed in an oversized trench coat and arms swinging slightly as he carried in six fast food bags. He looked only slightly older than Richie, with a goatee accenting his angular face.
"Well, how about just while I'm in the car-"
"My car, my music. Deal with it!"
Dean grinned at the bickering pair before shooting Sam an 'I told you so' look. "See? I'm not the only one with the 'driver picks the music' rule."
The newcomers turned first toward the sound of Dean's voice, then seeing Bobby smiled and approached. "Bobby, it's good to see you again!" MacLeod dropped the two satchels he was carrying to grasp Bobby's hand and clap him firmly on the shoulder.
"You too, Mac." Bobby stood and smiled in return, then pulled back to thumb toward the brothers. "You've sort of met Sam and Dean already."
"Of course." Mac approached the pair as they got up from the table and shook hands with them both. "Thanks again for helping out. I have to be honest, I'm still a little leery about having mortals along, but I know Bobby wouldn't have agreed to let you come if he didn't think you could handle it."
Bobby snorted under his breath. "Yeah, like I could ever stop those two idjits from doing something dangerous."
"Hey, I appreciate your wanting to protect us," Dean told Mac, ignoring Bobby's jab. "I mean really, after all the crap we've been through the past few years it's nice to know there're other hunters out there who'd have our backs."
"Ah, at last, the famous Winchester brothers." The bearded man set the food bags on the table and stepping forward with a smile extended his hand first to Sam then Dean. "Dr. Adam Logan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Logan?" Sam quirked his head at the name. "I thought Bobby said your name was Pierson?"
A light chuckle rippled through the group of Immortals. "Sorry," Bobby told the boys. "I knew him as Pierson the longest and still sorta think of him that way. Logan's a recent development."
Adam rolled his eyes at his old friend. "If you recall I was 'Adam Matheson' and 'Ben Adams' between Pierson and Logan, so you should have gotten over it by now."
"So why'd you change it?" Dean asked as Adam shrugged out of his long over coat.
"Because, unlike certain individuals," he gave Mac a stern look, "I prefer to change my identity when I need to move on. So, I'm afraid dear Adam Pierson died of old age."
"Old age?" Wrinkling his brow in confusion Sam shifted his glance between Adam and Bobby. "What exactly does that mean?"
Bobby reached into the cooler and pulled out two more beers. "Like I mentioned earlier, Immortals can only last so long in one place before people notice we're not getting any older." He passed the bottles to Adam and Mac before taking another drink from his own. "Fifteen to twenty years is generally the limit. A bit less if you're like Richie and died young; more if, like me, you were older. Cover the grey hairs with dye or add more in with bleach, shave or grow a beard and I can pass for anything between forty and sixty-five; seventy if I add glasses but... that's really pushing it." He paused in thought for a moment. "Do you know how long 'Bobby Singer' had lived in Sioux Falls when he died, officially?" Sam and Dean looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. "Thirty-five years. Thirty-five years with me not lookin' much different from this." He shook his head. "Best I can figure, folks didn't question it because I was away hunting so much that nobody really noticed."
"People were beginning to comment on how young I looked," Adam said, continuing his story. "I started getting everything from open skepticism about my age to requests for the name of my plastic surgeon. So, I faked my death and moved on. I became Dr. Adam Matheson, got married and became a father, then a couple of years ago I 'died' in an earthquake- compliments of Lucifer and his apocalypse- and had no choice but to start over again."
Sam nodded in understanding. "So that's when you changed your name to Logan?"
"Logan was my son's choice. To make it up to my family for making them move I let them choose our new name. My wife insisted I keep the name Adam since that's what she'd always known me as, and Joseph picked Logan for our family name," he explained with a grin. "He's somewhat obsessed with the character Wolverine from X-Men, and apparently I have a ...few things in common with him."
"Ha! That's just what I said, remember?" Dean asked Bobby, a huge grin on his face, then turned back to Adam. "When Bobby first told us about this Immortal stuff I asked if it was like Wolverine- you know, being born with it like mutants, the not aging, fast healing, can only be stopped by decapitation and keeping the head separate..."
"Well for us decapitation alone does it." Adam grinned at the older Winchester. "You know, I think you and Joey would get along great. He can quote chapter and verse from the movies and comic books and I get the feeling you could too."
"Yeah, about that." Sam eyed his brother suspiciously. "Dude, how do you know all that stuff?"
"I do watch things other than Casa Erotica on our downtime you know. One of those movie channels was having a 'Mutant Marathon.' X-men one and two, Last Stand, Origins: Wolverine-"
Sam huffed and shook his head. "And you accuse me of being a geek."
Adam grinned at the boys before turning to Bobby and nodding toward the bags. "Now then, I know that since you rediscovered your mortality you've been trying to eat healthier, but now that you're back in the fold I thought you might like to... celebrate a bit." He began passing the bags out to the others. "We've got bacon double cheeseburger deluxe all around. Fries, onion rings-"
"Oh yes! Come to papa!" Richie quickly snatched up a burger and began wolfing it down.
Mac made a disgusted sound and rolled his eyes at his young friend. "You know, it's a good thing you're Immortal. It's the only way you'll survive eating that way," he said.
Taking a wary sniff Bobby's eyes flew open wide as he recognized the aroma coming from the bag. "Mustang Sally's? You went to Mustang Sally's?" He buried his nose in the bag's open top, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as the familiar scent engulfed him. "Honey, I'm home!" he sighed happily.
Dean stared openmouthed at Bobby, having never seen him react this way to food before. "What the heck is Mustang Sally's?"
Adam was equally amused at his old friend's behavior. "A sports bar and grill on Main. They make the best burgers in Deadwood."
"Best burgers in South Dakota!" Bobby insisted as he emptied his bag on the table.
"I'll take your word on that," he laughed as he passed out the last of the food. "I rarely eat there. I always feel like I'm cheating on my wife when I walk through the doors."
"Why?" Dean asked with a grin as he accepted a bag from Adam. "What, are the waitresses hot or something?"
"No," Adam insisted, then thought a moment. "Well all right, maybe a few of them are, but that's not what I meant. My wife Julia is a professional chef and part owner of a saloon and restaurant just down the street. So..."
"So you're fraternizing with the enemy then?"
"Right," Adam said, then reconsidered for a moment. "Well... Not exactly. Like I said, Mustang Sally's is a sports bar-it's a modern building with flat screened TVs tuned in to ESPN and other sports networks, and the food is more typical of an American diner. The Bella Union is a historic landmark, completely rebuilt and decorated to look almost exactly like it did in the late 1870's, right down to the pattern of the carpets and the paintings hanging on the walls, and the menu is more upscale. So the clientele they attract is somewhat different."
"What did they do, use old photographs for the restoration?" Sam asked, starting in on his food.
Adam watched in amazement as Dean downed half his sandwich in two bites before he turned to answer Sam's question. "No, they went by eyewitness accounts."
"Diaries then?" Sam's eyes went wide as both Bobby and Adam shook their heads, snickered and gestured toward each other. "Wait... Both of you?"
"Julia's partner in the saloon was there too," Bobby added through a mouthful of food.
Dean set his burger down and stared. "You and Bobby knew each other way back then?"
"Dr. Matthew Adams at your service." His grin widened and he tipped an imaginary hat to the boys. "I was only in town for about a month while 'Ellsworth' was living there just before his first death. Which is probably why he didn't recognize me when we met up again in Paris a few years ago."
Bobby shrugged slightly. "That, plus 'Doc Adams' looked completely different from 'Adam Pierson': longer hair, full beard. Different accent too."
"Well, like I said, I change my identity when I start over. Anyway, the first time we met I didn't even realize Bobby was the one giving off a pre-Immortal 'buzz'. We were in the Grand Central's crowded dining room at the time and he was sitting with his future wife and stepdaughter." He turned to Bobby with a soft smile. "Remember?"
Bobby got a distant look in his eyes and returned the smile "Like it was yesterday," he said as he watched Adam clear the empty bags from the table.
oooOOOoooDeadwood mining camp, 1877
Dr. Adams dropped the bags to the hotel's floor with a grunt. He was tired, dirty and after spending many days on horseback, saddle sore. He'd taken the train as far West as Chicago, then opted to ride the rest of the way to Deadwood instead of taking the stagecoach. While the coach might have been more comfortable he much preferred the flexibility of setting his own pace. There were several people he wished to avoid -one more so than others- and if he felt the need to suddenly change course or take to holy ground... well, he'd rather not have to explain himself.
Tapping the desk bell once he only had to wait a moment before a greasy haired man in overly ornate clothes appeared. "A very good morning to you sir. Do you require lodging?"
"I require a room, a bath, a meal and directions to Dr. Cochran's office," Adams sighed. "Not necessarily in that order."
"I see," the man said, rubbing his chin. "Doc Cochran is currently at a house of ill repute, tending to a shooting victim. If you are in imminent need of medical attention I can send a member of my staff to fetch one of the other camp physicians to see to you."
"Not necessary. As it happens I am one of the other camp physicians." He offered his hand. "Dr. Matthew Adams. Dr. Cochran placed an advert in the New York Times for a partner in his medical practice and I'm here to fill the vacancy."
"Well then," the man gave a wide smile and shook Dr. Adams' hand, "Let me be the first to welcome you. E.B. Farnum, owner and proprietor of the Grand Central Hotel and mayor of Deadwood."
"Mayor Farnum." Adams tried to discreetly wipe his hand on his pants, hoping it was just sweat dampening Farnum's hand. "About my room, then?"
"Yes, of course. If you'll just fill out the guest register." Farnum slid the book and pen across to Dr. Adams and studied him intently as he wrote, looking like a vulture perched over its next meal. It took Adams several long minutes of negotiation-during which Farnum somehow convinced him to act as the hotel's in-house physician- before he was finally allowed to check in.
"Wonderful sir!" Farnum clasped his hands together and grinned. "Now, as to your list of requests, might I suggest you begin with breakfast in the hotel restaurant? I will need a bit of time to see to it that your room is properly cleaned and aired out for you. The bathwater will likewise require time to heat." Receiving a nod in reply he came out from behind the desk and began ushering Adams into the already filled to capacity dining room. "Right this way Dr. Adams. Don't mind the line, hotel guests receive priority service."
The moment Adams stepped through the archway separating the dining room from the lobby he felt it: the unmistakable soft hum of not yet realized Immortality whispered along the edges of his consciousness. No! No-no-no-no-no! his mind screamed. I already did my good deed this century. He'd left Byron's company the year after that fateful summer they'd spent with the Shelleys and was not at all interested in taking on another student just yet. As Farnum loaded up a plate for him and prattled on about the various comings and goings of the camp he carefully scanned the room, taking in the assortment of prospectors, businessmen and travelers, but it was impossible to discern who was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.
"As you can see by the crowded conditions meals here at the Grand Central are very popular." Farnum was craning his neck this way and that, searching for an empty table. "People enjoy the atmosphere so much they linger even long after they've finished their meals," he said in a loud voice, glaring at a group of men sitting at a table and nursing their coffee. "Even though common manners dictate they should vacate in the presence of other diners. Particularly new physicians, who've come all the way from New York City to tend to the needs of those here in the camp-"
"I beg your pardon, doctor," a soft voice called out to their left and Adams turned to see an attractive, elegantly dressed woman sitting beside a young girl and older gentleman motion to an empty chair at their table. "I believe this is the only available seat at the moment. And you are more than welcome to join us."
"Ah, the happy love birds invite you into their nest." Something in Farnum's oily smirk made Adams want to smack the man, and judging by the dark looks the couple were giving him he wasn't the only one. "I'll leave you to their company then." Farnum started to move away, then turned back to address the woman. "I have much to do in preparation of your impending nuptials."
"Thank you, Mr. Farnum," she called after him as civilly as she could though clenched teeth. Turning to Adams she gave him a genuine smile. "I'm Mrs. Alma Garret. It's a pleasure to meet you doctor..."
"Matthew Adams," he said as he took his seat. "And thank you very much for your hospitality." Though the location was somewhat uncomfortable, with his back against the wall and only a few inches of clearance between himself and the table, he was pleased to note that he now had a perfect view of the entire room including the doorway. All he had to do was watch who left the room when the sensation subsided and he'd have his future Immortal.
The woman introduced the young girl as her ward, Sofia, and while the gentleman was old enough to be Mrs. Garret's father, to Adams' surprise he turned out to be her fiancé, a Mr. Ellsworth, whom she would wed the next day. Well, who am I to pass judgment over age differences? he thought to himself. As they ate they chatted about various things: Mrs. Garret inquired about news from New York, where she was originally from, and they discovered they had several acquaintances in common. They discussed their hopes for the future of the camp and as other diners passed by the table Dr. Adams was introduced to the local newspaper editor and the operator of the Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Office, who Adams promised to visit later with a message for his lawyers in New York. All the while he remained alert, waiting for the mystery Immortal to make his exit. But the other, it seemed, was taking his time.
"Well, it was nice talkin' with you, Doc," Ellsworth said as he stood up. "But I really need to check in at the lady's claim, seein' as how I'll be away for a few weeks after tomorrow evening."
Mrs. Garret likewise vacated her chair and urged young Sofia to do the same. "Yes, and I have several things that I need to attend to as well. It was truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance Dr. Adams." She paused in thought a moment. "Perhaps, if you are not too tired from settling in, you would consider having dinner with us tonight?"
Adams, who'd risen out of respect when the ladies stood, widened his eyes in surprise, not expecting to be accepted quite so quickly. "Yes. I mean, that is if you're sure I won't be intruding."
"Oh not at all," Ellsworth answered eagerly. "Much as I enjoy the ladies company, it'd be a relief not to be the only fella at the table."
Adams gratefully accepted the invitation, and as he watched the betrothed couple leave with the child he felt the buzzing in his head recede and knew his quest was narrowed down to three possibilities. Not the girl, please, he implored to every deity he'd ever heard of. Let it be Ellsworth or Mrs. Garrett. The woman had introduced Sofia as her ward, not daughter, leaving the child's origins in question. She was almost at the age where Immortality could be triggered by a violent death, and in a camp such as this a violent death was around every corner. If Sofia couldn't make it to adulthood she stood no chance in the game.
"Dr. Adams?" Farnum's voice intruded into his thoughts. "Your room is situated; and there's enough hot water whenever you're ready for your bath."
"Thank you, Mr. Farnum." He stretched his neck a bit, rubbing at the knot that had been forming ever since he realized he was not the only one of his kind in the camp. "I think I will have that bath now. Just let me collect a few things."
"Of course." Farnum pressed a room key into his hand and began leading him towards the flight of stairs.
"Mr. Farnum?" An idea struck him. The hotel owner seemed like the type of man who had his nose in everybody's business. Maybe he could shed further light on the situation. "I was wondering, what can you tell me about the family that I was sitting with?"
"The widow Garret's a resident here in the hotel; though I imagine once she and Ellsworth wed they'll be moving into a house somewhere. She and her late husband came out from New York a little over a year ago to prospect in the hills. The husband fell to his death leaving the widow with a bonanza gold claim to deal with and Ellsworth's been overseeing production at her mine ever since."
"And the child?"
"A Norwegian foundling-"
"Foundling?" Adams felt his heart sink. I guess that settles it then.
Farnum nodded sadly. "A terrible tragedy. The whole family murdered by Indians on the Spearfish road and the child the only survivor." He grimaced like a bad actor telling a gruesome tale. "She was being gnawed on by wolves when the rescue party found her."
Dr. Adams was about to ask Farnum which was it foundling or orphan when he felt the buzzing resume and spun toward the hotel's entrance door.
"Forgot my hat," Ellsworth explained as he dashed back into the dining room. Adams wanted to kiss the man he was so relieved. Hat now in hand Ellsworth approached him with an embarrassed expression. "Also, Mrs. Garret wanted me to invite you to the weddin' tomorrow. Whole camp's invited to the festivities afterward, but she'd like you to attend the ceremony. I reckon you being from New York's got her feeling a bit homesick, and seein' as how you know some of her people..." He let the sentence drift off with a shrug.
Dr. Adams grinned broadly as he studied his prospective student. "My dear Mr. Ellsworth, I wouldn't miss it for the world."
oooOOOooo"So, you were planning on being Bobby's first teacher?" Sam asked. Getting a nod from Adam he further inquired, "Then what happened? Why didn't you?"
A dark look crossed Adam's face and he shifted his attention back to his meal. "I got word that, ah... someone I'd rather not have encountered was headed to town, so I had to make a hasty retreat. I always planned to come back, and eventually I did, but I missed Bobby by a few months."
"Thank God for small favors, I hate to imagine how he would've turned out with you as his teacher." Mac quipped. At the glare Adam shot him he elaborated, "Face it, you don't have good luck with students: Byron, Silas-"
"Two examples out of how many?" Adam shot back. "And what about Joanie? Or Andrew or Jim? They're all normal, productive members of society. Hell, if Jim were a mortal he'd have been canonized by now."
As the puzzle pieces fit together Sam's eyes bulged and he rocked back in his chair. "Jim? Do you mean Pastor Jim? He was your student?"
"I ran into him at the Coliseum in 93." He waved a dismissive hand. "He was busy entertaining a lion and I thought it best to get him out of there before he died and came back too many times. Not to mention there was the risk of something important being chewed off."
Sam and Dean stared motionless at Adam, who just sat there calmly wiping his hands with a napkin and acting as if he'd said he picked-up the man's dry cleaning rather than rescued him from being repeatedly eaten to death. "Uh, thanks for... helping him?" Sam said, not really sure what the appropriate response should be.
"I can't believe Bobby was sitting right next to you and you didn't realize he was the guy you were looking for," Dean snorted, redirecting the conversation. "I mean, I thought you guys could recognize each other in a crowd."
"It ain't that precise." Bobby took another swig of his beer and gestured to his fellow Immortals. "We get that buzzing feeling when we're near each other but if the other fellow doesn't make it obvious we can't tell who it's coming from."
"Make it obvious how? Whip out their sword and announce themselves?"
"No, nothing that dramatic." Leaning forward on his elbows MacLeod tried his best to explain. "When we sense another of our kind we instinctively look around. The impulse is almost overpowering. But sometimes mistaken identities occur. I remember back in... 1728 I was riding in a coach on my way to Dover when it was held up. Now, the highwayman thought the young noble traveling with me was the Immortal and was about to take the man's head when I stepped in."
"Also the sensation doesn't get any stronger or weaker with proximity. You can't use it to play 'Hot and Cold'." Adam reached for one of the satchels and pulled out a laptop. "How about a little dinner music? Good music that is," he added, giving Mac a sharp look.
Just before the media player blocked out the screen Dean caught a glimpse of the computer's wallpaper: a picture of Adam sitting in a garden with an attractive red-head seated to his right and a young boy of no more than ten between them. "That your family?"
Adam beamed and nodded as he reached for his beer. "Yeah, it was taken two years ago when we went down to Louisiana to visit Julia's parents. I've been meaning to update the image, I just haven't gotten around to it yet."
"It's a nice picture anyway." And it was. The three of them looked truly happy and content... not to mention Julia was a serious MILF, though Dean knew better than to say that out loud. He'd just met the man and didn't think he'd appreciate the comment even though it was complimentary. Never a good idea to piss off a guy who carries a sword, he thought. But it was the boy that really caught his attention: except for his striking blue eyes, which he obviously inherited from his mother, Joey was a near clone of Adam. Easy to tell who that kid's father is.
"So, how is your son?" Dean asked him. "Mac mentioned that he was sick?"
Adam set his bottle down, and gave him a slight smile. "He'll be all right, it's just a minor respiratory infection. But because Joey's an asthmatic we have to be extra careful, even a slight cold can trigger an attack. That's what happened; he woke us up around four thirty in the morning barking like a seal, then spent the next six hours in hospital hooked up to IVs and oxygen and having nebulizer treatments... If that hadn't happened... he would have gone to that party. He'd have been in the car when..." He huffed a short, sad laugh and shook his head. "I never imagined his having a serious medical condition would save his life."
oooOOOoooAs they waited for the sky to darken they continued talking with Adam's laptop providing their entertainment: a musical assortment of various artists and genres. When a bluesy cover of Neil Young's For the Turnstiles came on all four Immortal's heads whipped around to stare at the machine, as if expecting the singer to materialize from it.
"So, when does he get in?" Bobby asked, turning his attention back to his dinner companions.
"Tomorrow afternoon," Adam replied. "I'm hoping that seeing Uncle Joe-as well as Uncle Bobby- will help lift Joey's mood. He's gotten so quiet since... All we get out of him are one word answers and the occasional grunt of acknowledgement."
"It's been less than two days and the kid's been through the wringer," Bobby said quietly. "First he gets sick and ends up in the ER, then this happens. Just give him some time."
Adam nodded, then took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face, obviously trying to reign in his emotions. "I never bothered to ask if you were OK with all of this," he said. "I mean, I seem to have taken over your house without even bothering to ask permission. If you want we could move out and Joe could stay with us."
"Nonsense. You, Jules and Joey-you guys are family, my door's always open to you. Mi casa es tu casa," he added with a wink. "And as far as Dawson goes... well, I need to have a chat with 'Mr. Big Shot Watcher Man,' and I'd just as soon do it with home field advantage."
Dean finally put two and two together. "Joe Dawson? That's him?" he asked, pointing toward the laptop. Getting a nod from the group he continued. "And he'll be in town tomorrow?"
"Yeah, he's coming for Thanksgiving." Adam grabbed few fries out of the bag and stuffed them in his mouth. "Joe and I have been friends for... oh, going on twenty-five years now. He usually spends at least part of the holidays with us." He quirked a smile and chucked under his breath. "You know, it's the closest relationship I've ever had with a mortal I wasn't married to."
Sam smiled at the affection in the man's voice. "Is that why you named your son after him?"
"No, that was just an odd coincidence. 'Joseph' was the name of Julia's first husband." He frowned at the Winchesters' confused looks. "I was his step-father until last year when I formally adopted him. I assumed you knew."
"Well, you know what they say about people who assume things." Dean tried to cover his surprise with a cocky grin. "Seriously though, I thought he was yours. I mean except for the eyes the kid looks just like you."
"Yeah, it's weird how that turned out, isn't it? People who don't know often joke about how I 'put my mark' on him. But... how could you have thought I was his birth father? You know I'm Immortal right?"
Dean was getting more confused by the moment. "Yeah, so? What difference does that make?"
"Well, I thought Bobby explained to you about us."
Dean's face fell and he shot Bobby a dirty look. "There somethin' you'd like to share with the class, Bobby?"
Bobby gave a weary sigh and shook his head. "Look, I'm telling you stuff in order of importance. The fact that Immortals are sterile ranks pretty low on the priority list."
"You..." Sam blinked in surprise, then turned to the others present. "All of you?"
Mac nodded. "In all of our history no Immortal has ever fathered a child or given birth."
"Not even before they became Immortal," Richie added. "Back when I was... new, this girl I used to go out with claimed I was the father of her little boy, but..." He glanced at Mac for a moment before continuing. "I wasn't. It's just not possible."
Once again the brothers sat in shocked silence, this time tinged with sadness. "Bobby, I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.
Bobby narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "For what?"
"C'mon. I know the 'mean old drunk' act is just an act," Dean insisted. "I know how you are about kids: you took care of me and Sam when we were little, and anytime we work a job, if there are kids involved you go out of your way to make sure they're safe and not too scared."
Sam slowly shook his head with a sorrowful look in his eyes. "Bobby, if ever there was a guy who'd be an awesome dad it's you. I just... I think it's terrible that even with hundreds of years ahead of you you'll never be a father."
Bobby straightened in his chair and gave the Winchesters a stern look. "All right, let's get one thing straight: there's more to being a father than contributing DNA. It's about being there for the kids: patching up boo-boos, playing with them, tucking them in at night. Or teaching them to hunt and track and helping them with their Latin homework," he added staring the boys straight in the eyes, reminding them of their own history with him. "So there won't be any mini-mes running around, so what? I mean, I know it's a huge tragedy that my stunning good looks won't be passed on to the next generation," he teased, "but really boys, I'm all right with it. I had you two rugrats to look after from time to time, and I had my Sofia way back when. And... there've been a few others over the years. If I get to the point where I want to raise kids again there's plenty of them stuck in group homes and foster care. So... don't cry for me, Argentina. All right?"
Sam huffed softly and smiled. "I guess I didn't think about it like that."
"OK, Bobby," Dean agreed quietly. "Whatever you say." He didn't know why he still felt regret that Bobby would never have a child of his own. It wasn't like he'd expected the older man to settle down with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence before he learned about his Immortality. It just struck him as unfair was all.
"Good. Glad we got that settled," Bobby said, then turned his attention to Adam. "Now, what's been going on since I was home last?"
"Well, you missed this year's Deadweird," Adam grumbled slightly, giving him a reproachful look.
"Intentionally. After last year's nightmare inducing disaster I'll never subject myself to that again!"
"Uh, 'Deadweird'?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised.
"It's a Halloween festival the town puts on," Adam explained. "There's a parade, parties, a costume contest. A group from the hospital always gets together and does a big theme for the competition, last year it was The Rocky Horror Picture Show-"
"And if being a hunter hadn't soured me on the holiday already, seeing Dr. Robinson in fish net stockings and corset would have done it a hundred times over!" Bobby shuddered dramatically and finished his beer in one gulp.
"True." Adam nodded in agreement. "Casting him as Frankenfurter was a mistake. I should have played the part." As the entire table stared at him in shock he deadpanned, "I have much better legs."
Richie dropped the remains of his burger in disgust. "Ah! Dude please, not while I'm eating!"
He gave the young Immortal hunter a look of mischievous glee before continuing. "Well this year's theme was the zombie apocalypse, but with a slight twist. We paid off one of the sound techs so that when the group reached the judging area music would start playing and everyone-including a certain blonde resident," he added with a wink at Bobby, "would break into the Thriller dance."
Bobby became very still. "Please tell me someone took pictures," he said looking eagerly at Adam who smiled back at him.
"I was cameraman for the evening. I've got the video loaded on my laptop whenever you want to see-" No sooner had Adam pointed toward the device than Bobby made a grab for it. "It's the icon marked 'Thriller.'"
Bobby pulled the computer closer to him and started the video. A group of seven zombies dressed in hospital scrubs, nurse uniforms and lab coats shuffled randomly into frame, moaning and staggering in typical monster movie fashion. Then once they were in formation the music started and they all began to dance in unison: stomping, arms swinging and hips gyrating in a perfect emulation of the Michael Jackson music video.
"OK, as much as I hate Halloween, that," Sam laughed as the lead zombie pulled off his white coat to reveal Jackson's red Thriller outfit hidden beneath, "would have been cool to see."
"Seconded," Dean agreed. While the video played he kept sneaking glances at Bobby whose eyes never left the right corner of the screen where a young blonde in green scrubs was dancing. Interesting...
"Well, next year we'll have to make sure we're not workin' a job when the festival's on," Bobby told them. "Now that the cat's outta the bag you boys can consider my place in Deadwood your home same as you did in Sioux Falls."
"There're a ton of stills of both the festival and the town in general in the photos file if you want to have a look," Adam said to the Winchesters as Bobby closed out the video program.
Bobby passed the laptop over to Sam and Dean who eagerly began paging through the images. There were pictures of groups dressed up as Smurfs and Oompa-loompas, vampires, aliens and of course plenty of cowboys and dance hall girls celebrating the town's Wild West past. In another sub-folder they found photos of Adam's wife and another woman, both dressed in period costume, standing proudly beside a sign that read:
Grand Opening
Bella Union Saloon
Est. 1876Pictures from the building's interior showed a roulette wheel, craps and poker tables, and Dean grinned remembering that small stakes gambling was legal in Deadwood. No need for shady back rooms and keeping watch over his shoulder for cops, he could make some extra cash while indulging in his appreciation-not obsession like Sam insisted- of the old west all by the light of day. Then the pictures started getting more personal: images from what looked like family birthday parties and Christmas celebrations flipped across the screen and just as Sam was about to close the laptop one photo in particular caught both their attention.
"Uh... Lucy?" Dean said in his best Ricky Ricardo voice. "I think you got some 'splainin to do." He turned the screen in Bobby's direction, showing him a picture of himself dressed in pajamas and a robe and seated between two women: a young blonde who looked to be in her late twenties and an older woman with salt and pepper hair. He had his arms around both of them and they in turn were holding him tightly, leaning in to rest their heads against his shoulders. Dean glanced at the old hunter with a mixture of awe and revulsion. "Is this another part of your secret life? You're a Wild West Hugh Hefner?" He looked back at the screen, noticing both women wore similar gold rings. "Or a Mormon?"
Bobby glared at Adam accusingly, but instead of wearing his usual smirk the other man looked both surprised and apologetic. He turned back to the boys and started to explain. "It ain't what you're thinking-"
"Yeah, whatever you say, Big Love," Dean interrupted and turned the screen back to examine the picture again, then it finally clicked where he'd seen the younger girl before. "Blonde zombie chick." He tapped a finger against the image of the smiling blonde, her pretty face no longer hidden behind layers of Halloween makeup. "This is the blonde zombie chick you couldn't take your eyes off of in that video, isn't it? C'mon, Bobby, fess up. You got yourself a couple of sisterwives waiting at home?"
"Well, you're right about the 'sisters' part." Bobby took a deep breath. "They're my daughters."
oooOOOooo
Present Day:
MacLeod Richie Adam Logan/Methos
1877:
Dr. Matthew Adams/Methos E.B. Farnum Alma & Ellsworth Sofia
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A/N2: With the arrival of Adam/Methos we move more into the Deadwood section of this story and I feel the need to state something for the record. My version of the city of Deadwood is what I imagine David Milch's Deadwood might have evolved into had the characters and events in that series been real. So, like his story, mine will be a blend of fact (such as Mustang Sally's and the "Deadweird" festival) and fiction (E.B. Farnum did not own the Grand Central and Alma Garret Ellsworth never existed.) Where fact and fiction collide I will defer to Milch's version. While I've made every attempt to portray Deadwood and the surrounding areas accurately it's been a long time since I last visited the historic city, so my apologies to Black Hills residents for any errors I've made. Other than historical figures used in Deadwood and Highlander canon and some public figures mentioned in passing, any similarity to actual individuals living or dead is purely coincidental, and no offence is intended.
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: SPN: 7.10 Death's Door, HL: 5.20 Archangel, Deadwood: 3.11 The Catbird Seat
Crossover, AU
Summary: When Bobby mysteriously disappears from the hospital after an encounter with the Leviathan Sam and Dean think they know what’s behind it. But the truth is beyond any of their wildest dreams and will change the way they see the older hunter forever. Spoilers all episodes up to 7.10 "Death's Door" Supernatural/Highlander/Deadwood crossover.
A/N: I know I've said it before, but I just wanted to take a moment to thank everybody reading and following my little ramblings, especially those who've left a review. It really feels good to know that others are enjoying the ride with me. I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter of Sands of Time: Beginnings, so that'll be the next story updated.
OK, I'm trying something new: a flashback. The flashback sequences were often my favorite part of the Highlander series (who could ever forget the over the top Regency house party with Methos, Byron and the Shelleys in season five's The Modern Prometheus?), so I'm giving it a whirl and showing you all a glimpse of Deadwood, ca. 1877. I hope it works, trying to capture William Sanderson's portrayal of E.B. Farnum and getting right the unique dialog and speech patterns that Deadwood creator David Milch wove into the show was trickier than I thought it'd be.
Thanks, as always, to dnachemlia for making sense of my ramblings.
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oooOOOoooDean watched silently as the two Immortals reacted to some unseen force: Richie merely stiffened and looked toward the door while Bobby once again winced and pressed the heels of his hands into his temples.
"Bobby?" Richie frowned as a hiss of pain escaped from the older hunter's lips. "Dude, what's wrong?" But any response from Bobby was halted as a pair of voices announced the new arrivals.
"Adam, for the love of God will you please give it a rest?"
"Look, I'm not saying you can't listen to your music at all, MacLeod. I'm just saying would it kill you to listen to a little Springsteen now and then?"
"Listen old man-"
"Rolling Stones? Queen?"
"Enough!"
Dean turned his head just in time to see the two men enter the room. While both were tall with short dark hair, that was where the similarity between them ended. Dean recognized the first man's voice as belonging to MacLeod. He was broad shouldered and muscular, and by the way he carried himself Dean could tell he was someone who actually needed to be in shape, rather than one of those ass-clowns who were always going on about 'six packs' and 'glutes.' Like Richie, this man was a warrior.
The second through the door Dean assumed was Adam. Once upon a time he'd accused Cas of looking like a 'Holy Tax Accountant,' and as he studied the man Dean thought to himself that the description was just as appropriate for Adam. Like Cas he wore a suit and tie, his slender build swallowed in an oversized trench coat and arms swinging slightly as he carried in six fast food bags. He looked only slightly older than Richie, with a goatee accenting his angular face.
"Well, how about just while I'm in the car-"
"My car, my music. Deal with it!"
Dean grinned at the bickering pair before shooting Sam an 'I told you so' look. "See? I'm not the only one with the 'driver picks the music' rule."
The newcomers turned first toward the sound of Dean's voice, then seeing Bobby smiled and approached. "Bobby, it's good to see you again!" MacLeod dropped the two satchels he was carrying to grasp Bobby's hand and clap him firmly on the shoulder.
"You too, Mac." Bobby stood and smiled in return, then pulled back to thumb toward the brothers. "You've sort of met Sam and Dean already."
"Of course." Mac approached the pair as they got up from the table and shook hands with them both. "Thanks again for helping out. I have to be honest, I'm still a little leery about having mortals along, but I know Bobby wouldn't have agreed to let you come if he didn't think you could handle it."
Bobby snorted under his breath. "Yeah, like I could ever stop those two idjits from doing something dangerous."
"Hey, I appreciate your wanting to protect us," Dean told Mac, ignoring Bobby's jab. "I mean really, after all the crap we've been through the past few years it's nice to know there're other hunters out there who'd have our backs."
"Ah, at last, the famous Winchester brothers." The bearded man set the food bags on the table and stepping forward with a smile extended his hand first to Sam then Dean. "Dr. Adam Logan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Logan?" Sam quirked his head at the name. "I thought Bobby said your name was Pierson?"
A light chuckle rippled through the group of Immortals. "Sorry," Bobby told the boys. "I knew him as Pierson the longest and still sorta think of him that way. Logan's a recent development."
Adam rolled his eyes at his old friend. "If you recall I was 'Adam Matheson' and 'Ben Adams' between Pierson and Logan, so you should have gotten over it by now."
"So why'd you change it?" Dean asked as Adam shrugged out of his long over coat.
"Because, unlike certain individuals," he gave Mac a stern look, "I prefer to change my identity when I need to move on. So, I'm afraid dear Adam Pierson died of old age."
"Old age?" Wrinkling his brow in confusion Sam shifted his glance between Adam and Bobby. "What exactly does that mean?"
Bobby reached into the cooler and pulled out two more beers. "Like I mentioned earlier, Immortals can only last so long in one place before people notice we're not getting any older." He passed the bottles to Adam and Mac before taking another drink from his own. "Fifteen to twenty years is generally the limit. A bit less if you're like Richie and died young; more if, like me, you were older. Cover the grey hairs with dye or add more in with bleach, shave or grow a beard and I can pass for anything between forty and sixty-five; seventy if I add glasses but... that's really pushing it." He paused in thought for a moment. "Do you know how long 'Bobby Singer' had lived in Sioux Falls when he died, officially?" Sam and Dean looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. "Thirty-five years. Thirty-five years with me not lookin' much different from this." He shook his head. "Best I can figure, folks didn't question it because I was away hunting so much that nobody really noticed."
"People were beginning to comment on how young I looked," Adam said, continuing his story. "I started getting everything from open skepticism about my age to requests for the name of my plastic surgeon. So, I faked my death and moved on. I became Dr. Adam Matheson, got married and became a father, then a couple of years ago I 'died' in an earthquake- compliments of Lucifer and his apocalypse- and had no choice but to start over again."
Sam nodded in understanding. "So that's when you changed your name to Logan?"
"Logan was my son's choice. To make it up to my family for making them move I let them choose our new name. My wife insisted I keep the name Adam since that's what she'd always known me as, and Joseph picked Logan for our family name," he explained with a grin. "He's somewhat obsessed with the character Wolverine from X-Men, and apparently I have a ...few things in common with him."
"Ha! That's just what I said, remember?" Dean asked Bobby, a huge grin on his face, then turned back to Adam. "When Bobby first told us about this Immortal stuff I asked if it was like Wolverine- you know, being born with it like mutants, the not aging, fast healing, can only be stopped by decapitation and keeping the head separate..."
"Well for us decapitation alone does it." Adam grinned at the older Winchester. "You know, I think you and Joey would get along great. He can quote chapter and verse from the movies and comic books and I get the feeling you could too."
"Yeah, about that." Sam eyed his brother suspiciously. "Dude, how do you know all that stuff?"
"I do watch things other than Casa Erotica on our downtime you know. One of those movie channels was having a 'Mutant Marathon.' X-men one and two, Last Stand, Origins: Wolverine-"
Sam huffed and shook his head. "And you accuse me of being a geek."
Adam grinned at the boys before turning to Bobby and nodding toward the bags. "Now then, I know that since you rediscovered your mortality you've been trying to eat healthier, but now that you're back in the fold I thought you might like to... celebrate a bit." He began passing the bags out to the others. "We've got bacon double cheeseburger deluxe all around. Fries, onion rings-"
"Oh yes! Come to papa!" Richie quickly snatched up a burger and began wolfing it down.
Mac made a disgusted sound and rolled his eyes at his young friend. "You know, it's a good thing you're Immortal. It's the only way you'll survive eating that way," he said.
Taking a wary sniff Bobby's eyes flew open wide as he recognized the aroma coming from the bag. "Mustang Sally's? You went to Mustang Sally's?" He buried his nose in the bag's open top, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as the familiar scent engulfed him. "Honey, I'm home!" he sighed happily.
Dean stared openmouthed at Bobby, having never seen him react this way to food before. "What the heck is Mustang Sally's?"
Adam was equally amused at his old friend's behavior. "A sports bar and grill on Main. They make the best burgers in Deadwood."
"Best burgers in South Dakota!" Bobby insisted as he emptied his bag on the table.
"I'll take your word on that," he laughed as he passed out the last of the food. "I rarely eat there. I always feel like I'm cheating on my wife when I walk through the doors."
"Why?" Dean asked with a grin as he accepted a bag from Adam. "What, are the waitresses hot or something?"
"No," Adam insisted, then thought a moment. "Well all right, maybe a few of them are, but that's not what I meant. My wife Julia is a professional chef and part owner of a saloon and restaurant just down the street. So..."
"So you're fraternizing with the enemy then?"
"Right," Adam said, then reconsidered for a moment. "Well... Not exactly. Like I said, Mustang Sally's is a sports bar-it's a modern building with flat screened TVs tuned in to ESPN and other sports networks, and the food is more typical of an American diner. The Bella Union is a historic landmark, completely rebuilt and decorated to look almost exactly like it did in the late 1870's, right down to the pattern of the carpets and the paintings hanging on the walls, and the menu is more upscale. So the clientele they attract is somewhat different."
"What did they do, use old photographs for the restoration?" Sam asked, starting in on his food.
Adam watched in amazement as Dean downed half his sandwich in two bites before he turned to answer Sam's question. "No, they went by eyewitness accounts."
"Diaries then?" Sam's eyes went wide as both Bobby and Adam shook their heads, snickered and gestured toward each other. "Wait... Both of you?"
"Julia's partner in the saloon was there too," Bobby added through a mouthful of food.
Dean set his burger down and stared. "You and Bobby knew each other way back then?"
"Dr. Matthew Adams at your service." His grin widened and he tipped an imaginary hat to the boys. "I was only in town for about a month while 'Ellsworth' was living there just before his first death. Which is probably why he didn't recognize me when we met up again in Paris a few years ago."
Bobby shrugged slightly. "That, plus 'Doc Adams' looked completely different from 'Adam Pierson': longer hair, full beard. Different accent too."
"Well, like I said, I change my identity when I start over. Anyway, the first time we met I didn't even realize Bobby was the one giving off a pre-Immortal 'buzz'. We were in the Grand Central's crowded dining room at the time and he was sitting with his future wife and stepdaughter." He turned to Bobby with a soft smile. "Remember?"
Bobby got a distant look in his eyes and returned the smile "Like it was yesterday," he said as he watched Adam clear the empty bags from the table.
oooOOOoooDeadwood mining camp, 1877
Dr. Adams dropped the bags to the hotel's floor with a grunt. He was tired, dirty and after spending many days on horseback, saddle sore. He'd taken the train as far West as Chicago, then opted to ride the rest of the way to Deadwood instead of taking the stagecoach. While the coach might have been more comfortable he much preferred the flexibility of setting his own pace. There were several people he wished to avoid -one more so than others- and if he felt the need to suddenly change course or take to holy ground... well, he'd rather not have to explain himself.
Tapping the desk bell once he only had to wait a moment before a greasy haired man in overly ornate clothes appeared. "A very good morning to you sir. Do you require lodging?"
"I require a room, a bath, a meal and directions to Dr. Cochran's office," Adams sighed. "Not necessarily in that order."
"I see," the man said, rubbing his chin. "Doc Cochran is currently at a house of ill repute, tending to a shooting victim. If you are in imminent need of medical attention I can send a member of my staff to fetch one of the other camp physicians to see to you."
"Not necessary. As it happens I am one of the other camp physicians." He offered his hand. "Dr. Matthew Adams. Dr. Cochran placed an advert in the New York Times for a partner in his medical practice and I'm here to fill the vacancy."
"Well then," the man gave a wide smile and shook Dr. Adams' hand, "Let me be the first to welcome you. E.B. Farnum, owner and proprietor of the Grand Central Hotel and mayor of Deadwood."
"Mayor Farnum." Adams tried to discreetly wipe his hand on his pants, hoping it was just sweat dampening Farnum's hand. "About my room, then?"
"Yes, of course. If you'll just fill out the guest register." Farnum slid the book and pen across to Dr. Adams and studied him intently as he wrote, looking like a vulture perched over its next meal. It took Adams several long minutes of negotiation-during which Farnum somehow convinced him to act as the hotel's in-house physician- before he was finally allowed to check in.
"Wonderful sir!" Farnum clasped his hands together and grinned. "Now, as to your list of requests, might I suggest you begin with breakfast in the hotel restaurant? I will need a bit of time to see to it that your room is properly cleaned and aired out for you. The bathwater will likewise require time to heat." Receiving a nod in reply he came out from behind the desk and began ushering Adams into the already filled to capacity dining room. "Right this way Dr. Adams. Don't mind the line, hotel guests receive priority service."
The moment Adams stepped through the archway separating the dining room from the lobby he felt it: the unmistakable soft hum of not yet realized Immortality whispered along the edges of his consciousness. No! No-no-no-no-no! his mind screamed. I already did my good deed this century. He'd left Byron's company the year after that fateful summer they'd spent with the Shelleys and was not at all interested in taking on another student just yet. As Farnum loaded up a plate for him and prattled on about the various comings and goings of the camp he carefully scanned the room, taking in the assortment of prospectors, businessmen and travelers, but it was impossible to discern who was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.
"As you can see by the crowded conditions meals here at the Grand Central are very popular." Farnum was craning his neck this way and that, searching for an empty table. "People enjoy the atmosphere so much they linger even long after they've finished their meals," he said in a loud voice, glaring at a group of men sitting at a table and nursing their coffee. "Even though common manners dictate they should vacate in the presence of other diners. Particularly new physicians, who've come all the way from New York City to tend to the needs of those here in the camp-"
"I beg your pardon, doctor," a soft voice called out to their left and Adams turned to see an attractive, elegantly dressed woman sitting beside a young girl and older gentleman motion to an empty chair at their table. "I believe this is the only available seat at the moment. And you are more than welcome to join us."
"Ah, the happy love birds invite you into their nest." Something in Farnum's oily smirk made Adams want to smack the man, and judging by the dark looks the couple were giving him he wasn't the only one. "I'll leave you to their company then." Farnum started to move away, then turned back to address the woman. "I have much to do in preparation of your impending nuptials."
"Thank you, Mr. Farnum," she called after him as civilly as she could though clenched teeth. Turning to Adams she gave him a genuine smile. "I'm Mrs. Alma Garret. It's a pleasure to meet you doctor..."
"Matthew Adams," he said as he took his seat. "And thank you very much for your hospitality." Though the location was somewhat uncomfortable, with his back against the wall and only a few inches of clearance between himself and the table, he was pleased to note that he now had a perfect view of the entire room including the doorway. All he had to do was watch who left the room when the sensation subsided and he'd have his future Immortal.
The woman introduced the young girl as her ward, Sofia, and while the gentleman was old enough to be Mrs. Garret's father, to Adams' surprise he turned out to be her fiancé, a Mr. Ellsworth, whom she would wed the next day. Well, who am I to pass judgment over age differences? he thought to himself. As they ate they chatted about various things: Mrs. Garret inquired about news from New York, where she was originally from, and they discovered they had several acquaintances in common. They discussed their hopes for the future of the camp and as other diners passed by the table Dr. Adams was introduced to the local newspaper editor and the operator of the Cheyenne and Black Hills Telegraph Office, who Adams promised to visit later with a message for his lawyers in New York. All the while he remained alert, waiting for the mystery Immortal to make his exit. But the other, it seemed, was taking his time.
"Well, it was nice talkin' with you, Doc," Ellsworth said as he stood up. "But I really need to check in at the lady's claim, seein' as how I'll be away for a few weeks after tomorrow evening."
Mrs. Garret likewise vacated her chair and urged young Sofia to do the same. "Yes, and I have several things that I need to attend to as well. It was truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance Dr. Adams." She paused in thought a moment. "Perhaps, if you are not too tired from settling in, you would consider having dinner with us tonight?"
Adams, who'd risen out of respect when the ladies stood, widened his eyes in surprise, not expecting to be accepted quite so quickly. "Yes. I mean, that is if you're sure I won't be intruding."
"Oh not at all," Ellsworth answered eagerly. "Much as I enjoy the ladies company, it'd be a relief not to be the only fella at the table."
Adams gratefully accepted the invitation, and as he watched the betrothed couple leave with the child he felt the buzzing in his head recede and knew his quest was narrowed down to three possibilities. Not the girl, please, he implored to every deity he'd ever heard of. Let it be Ellsworth or Mrs. Garrett. The woman had introduced Sofia as her ward, not daughter, leaving the child's origins in question. She was almost at the age where Immortality could be triggered by a violent death, and in a camp such as this a violent death was around every corner. If Sofia couldn't make it to adulthood she stood no chance in the game.
"Dr. Adams?" Farnum's voice intruded into his thoughts. "Your room is situated; and there's enough hot water whenever you're ready for your bath."
"Thank you, Mr. Farnum." He stretched his neck a bit, rubbing at the knot that had been forming ever since he realized he was not the only one of his kind in the camp. "I think I will have that bath now. Just let me collect a few things."
"Of course." Farnum pressed a room key into his hand and began leading him towards the flight of stairs.
"Mr. Farnum?" An idea struck him. The hotel owner seemed like the type of man who had his nose in everybody's business. Maybe he could shed further light on the situation. "I was wondering, what can you tell me about the family that I was sitting with?"
"The widow Garret's a resident here in the hotel; though I imagine once she and Ellsworth wed they'll be moving into a house somewhere. She and her late husband came out from New York a little over a year ago to prospect in the hills. The husband fell to his death leaving the widow with a bonanza gold claim to deal with and Ellsworth's been overseeing production at her mine ever since."
"And the child?"
"A Norwegian foundling-"
"Foundling?" Adams felt his heart sink. I guess that settles it then.
Farnum nodded sadly. "A terrible tragedy. The whole family murdered by Indians on the Spearfish road and the child the only survivor." He grimaced like a bad actor telling a gruesome tale. "She was being gnawed on by wolves when the rescue party found her."
Dr. Adams was about to ask Farnum which was it foundling or orphan when he felt the buzzing resume and spun toward the hotel's entrance door.
"Forgot my hat," Ellsworth explained as he dashed back into the dining room. Adams wanted to kiss the man he was so relieved. Hat now in hand Ellsworth approached him with an embarrassed expression. "Also, Mrs. Garret wanted me to invite you to the weddin' tomorrow. Whole camp's invited to the festivities afterward, but she'd like you to attend the ceremony. I reckon you being from New York's got her feeling a bit homesick, and seein' as how you know some of her people..." He let the sentence drift off with a shrug.
Dr. Adams grinned broadly as he studied his prospective student. "My dear Mr. Ellsworth, I wouldn't miss it for the world."
oooOOOooo"So, you were planning on being Bobby's first teacher?" Sam asked. Getting a nod from Adam he further inquired, "Then what happened? Why didn't you?"
A dark look crossed Adam's face and he shifted his attention back to his meal. "I got word that, ah... someone I'd rather not have encountered was headed to town, so I had to make a hasty retreat. I always planned to come back, and eventually I did, but I missed Bobby by a few months."
"Thank God for small favors, I hate to imagine how he would've turned out with you as his teacher." Mac quipped. At the glare Adam shot him he elaborated, "Face it, you don't have good luck with students: Byron, Silas-"
"Two examples out of how many?" Adam shot back. "And what about Joanie? Or Andrew or Jim? They're all normal, productive members of society. Hell, if Jim were a mortal he'd have been canonized by now."
As the puzzle pieces fit together Sam's eyes bulged and he rocked back in his chair. "Jim? Do you mean Pastor Jim? He was your student?"
"I ran into him at the Coliseum in 93." He waved a dismissive hand. "He was busy entertaining a lion and I thought it best to get him out of there before he died and came back too many times. Not to mention there was the risk of something important being chewed off."
Sam and Dean stared motionless at Adam, who just sat there calmly wiping his hands with a napkin and acting as if he'd said he picked-up the man's dry cleaning rather than rescued him from being repeatedly eaten to death. "Uh, thanks for... helping him?" Sam said, not really sure what the appropriate response should be.
"I can't believe Bobby was sitting right next to you and you didn't realize he was the guy you were looking for," Dean snorted, redirecting the conversation. "I mean, I thought you guys could recognize each other in a crowd."
"It ain't that precise." Bobby took another swig of his beer and gestured to his fellow Immortals. "We get that buzzing feeling when we're near each other but if the other fellow doesn't make it obvious we can't tell who it's coming from."
"Make it obvious how? Whip out their sword and announce themselves?"
"No, nothing that dramatic." Leaning forward on his elbows MacLeod tried his best to explain. "When we sense another of our kind we instinctively look around. The impulse is almost overpowering. But sometimes mistaken identities occur. I remember back in... 1728 I was riding in a coach on my way to Dover when it was held up. Now, the highwayman thought the young noble traveling with me was the Immortal and was about to take the man's head when I stepped in."
"Also the sensation doesn't get any stronger or weaker with proximity. You can't use it to play 'Hot and Cold'." Adam reached for one of the satchels and pulled out a laptop. "How about a little dinner music? Good music that is," he added, giving Mac a sharp look.
Just before the media player blocked out the screen Dean caught a glimpse of the computer's wallpaper: a picture of Adam sitting in a garden with an attractive red-head seated to his right and a young boy of no more than ten between them. "That your family?"
Adam beamed and nodded as he reached for his beer. "Yeah, it was taken two years ago when we went down to Louisiana to visit Julia's parents. I've been meaning to update the image, I just haven't gotten around to it yet."
"It's a nice picture anyway." And it was. The three of them looked truly happy and content... not to mention Julia was a serious MILF, though Dean knew better than to say that out loud. He'd just met the man and didn't think he'd appreciate the comment even though it was complimentary. Never a good idea to piss off a guy who carries a sword, he thought. But it was the boy that really caught his attention: except for his striking blue eyes, which he obviously inherited from his mother, Joey was a near clone of Adam. Easy to tell who that kid's father is.
"So, how is your son?" Dean asked him. "Mac mentioned that he was sick?"
Adam set his bottle down, and gave him a slight smile. "He'll be all right, it's just a minor respiratory infection. But because Joey's an asthmatic we have to be extra careful, even a slight cold can trigger an attack. That's what happened; he woke us up around four thirty in the morning barking like a seal, then spent the next six hours in hospital hooked up to IVs and oxygen and having nebulizer treatments... If that hadn't happened... he would have gone to that party. He'd have been in the car when..." He huffed a short, sad laugh and shook his head. "I never imagined his having a serious medical condition would save his life."
oooOOOoooAs they waited for the sky to darken they continued talking with Adam's laptop providing their entertainment: a musical assortment of various artists and genres. When a bluesy cover of Neil Young's For the Turnstiles came on all four Immortal's heads whipped around to stare at the machine, as if expecting the singer to materialize from it.
"So, when does he get in?" Bobby asked, turning his attention back to his dinner companions.
"Tomorrow afternoon," Adam replied. "I'm hoping that seeing Uncle Joe-as well as Uncle Bobby- will help lift Joey's mood. He's gotten so quiet since... All we get out of him are one word answers and the occasional grunt of acknowledgement."
"It's been less than two days and the kid's been through the wringer," Bobby said quietly. "First he gets sick and ends up in the ER, then this happens. Just give him some time."
Adam nodded, then took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face, obviously trying to reign in his emotions. "I never bothered to ask if you were OK with all of this," he said. "I mean, I seem to have taken over your house without even bothering to ask permission. If you want we could move out and Joe could stay with us."
"Nonsense. You, Jules and Joey-you guys are family, my door's always open to you. Mi casa es tu casa," he added with a wink. "And as far as Dawson goes... well, I need to have a chat with 'Mr. Big Shot Watcher Man,' and I'd just as soon do it with home field advantage."
Dean finally put two and two together. "Joe Dawson? That's him?" he asked, pointing toward the laptop. Getting a nod from the group he continued. "And he'll be in town tomorrow?"
"Yeah, he's coming for Thanksgiving." Adam grabbed few fries out of the bag and stuffed them in his mouth. "Joe and I have been friends for... oh, going on twenty-five years now. He usually spends at least part of the holidays with us." He quirked a smile and chucked under his breath. "You know, it's the closest relationship I've ever had with a mortal I wasn't married to."
Sam smiled at the affection in the man's voice. "Is that why you named your son after him?"
"No, that was just an odd coincidence. 'Joseph' was the name of Julia's first husband." He frowned at the Winchesters' confused looks. "I was his step-father until last year when I formally adopted him. I assumed you knew."
"Well, you know what they say about people who assume things." Dean tried to cover his surprise with a cocky grin. "Seriously though, I thought he was yours. I mean except for the eyes the kid looks just like you."
"Yeah, it's weird how that turned out, isn't it? People who don't know often joke about how I 'put my mark' on him. But... how could you have thought I was his birth father? You know I'm Immortal right?"
Dean was getting more confused by the moment. "Yeah, so? What difference does that make?"
"Well, I thought Bobby explained to you about us."
Dean's face fell and he shot Bobby a dirty look. "There somethin' you'd like to share with the class, Bobby?"
Bobby gave a weary sigh and shook his head. "Look, I'm telling you stuff in order of importance. The fact that Immortals are sterile ranks pretty low on the priority list."
"You..." Sam blinked in surprise, then turned to the others present. "All of you?"
Mac nodded. "In all of our history no Immortal has ever fathered a child or given birth."
"Not even before they became Immortal," Richie added. "Back when I was... new, this girl I used to go out with claimed I was the father of her little boy, but..." He glanced at Mac for a moment before continuing. "I wasn't. It's just not possible."
Once again the brothers sat in shocked silence, this time tinged with sadness. "Bobby, I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.
Bobby narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "For what?"
"C'mon. I know the 'mean old drunk' act is just an act," Dean insisted. "I know how you are about kids: you took care of me and Sam when we were little, and anytime we work a job, if there are kids involved you go out of your way to make sure they're safe and not too scared."
Sam slowly shook his head with a sorrowful look in his eyes. "Bobby, if ever there was a guy who'd be an awesome dad it's you. I just... I think it's terrible that even with hundreds of years ahead of you you'll never be a father."
Bobby straightened in his chair and gave the Winchesters a stern look. "All right, let's get one thing straight: there's more to being a father than contributing DNA. It's about being there for the kids: patching up boo-boos, playing with them, tucking them in at night. Or teaching them to hunt and track and helping them with their Latin homework," he added staring the boys straight in the eyes, reminding them of their own history with him. "So there won't be any mini-mes running around, so what? I mean, I know it's a huge tragedy that my stunning good looks won't be passed on to the next generation," he teased, "but really boys, I'm all right with it. I had you two rugrats to look after from time to time, and I had my Sofia way back when. And... there've been a few others over the years. If I get to the point where I want to raise kids again there's plenty of them stuck in group homes and foster care. So... don't cry for me, Argentina. All right?"
Sam huffed softly and smiled. "I guess I didn't think about it like that."
"OK, Bobby," Dean agreed quietly. "Whatever you say." He didn't know why he still felt regret that Bobby would never have a child of his own. It wasn't like he'd expected the older man to settle down with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence before he learned about his Immortality. It just struck him as unfair was all.
"Good. Glad we got that settled," Bobby said, then turned his attention to Adam. "Now, what's been going on since I was home last?"
"Well, you missed this year's Deadweird," Adam grumbled slightly, giving him a reproachful look.
"Intentionally. After last year's nightmare inducing disaster I'll never subject myself to that again!"
"Uh, 'Deadweird'?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised.
"It's a Halloween festival the town puts on," Adam explained. "There's a parade, parties, a costume contest. A group from the hospital always gets together and does a big theme for the competition, last year it was The Rocky Horror Picture Show-"
"And if being a hunter hadn't soured me on the holiday already, seeing Dr. Robinson in fish net stockings and corset would have done it a hundred times over!" Bobby shuddered dramatically and finished his beer in one gulp.
"True." Adam nodded in agreement. "Casting him as Frankenfurter was a mistake. I should have played the part." As the entire table stared at him in shock he deadpanned, "I have much better legs."
Richie dropped the remains of his burger in disgust. "Ah! Dude please, not while I'm eating!"
He gave the young Immortal hunter a look of mischievous glee before continuing. "Well this year's theme was the zombie apocalypse, but with a slight twist. We paid off one of the sound techs so that when the group reached the judging area music would start playing and everyone-including a certain blonde resident," he added with a wink at Bobby, "would break into the Thriller dance."
Bobby became very still. "Please tell me someone took pictures," he said looking eagerly at Adam who smiled back at him.
"I was cameraman for the evening. I've got the video loaded on my laptop whenever you want to see-" No sooner had Adam pointed toward the device than Bobby made a grab for it. "It's the icon marked 'Thriller.'"
Bobby pulled the computer closer to him and started the video. A group of seven zombies dressed in hospital scrubs, nurse uniforms and lab coats shuffled randomly into frame, moaning and staggering in typical monster movie fashion. Then once they were in formation the music started and they all began to dance in unison: stomping, arms swinging and hips gyrating in a perfect emulation of the Michael Jackson music video.
"OK, as much as I hate Halloween, that," Sam laughed as the lead zombie pulled off his white coat to reveal Jackson's red Thriller outfit hidden beneath, "would have been cool to see."
"Seconded," Dean agreed. While the video played he kept sneaking glances at Bobby whose eyes never left the right corner of the screen where a young blonde in green scrubs was dancing. Interesting...
"Well, next year we'll have to make sure we're not workin' a job when the festival's on," Bobby told them. "Now that the cat's outta the bag you boys can consider my place in Deadwood your home same as you did in Sioux Falls."
"There're a ton of stills of both the festival and the town in general in the photos file if you want to have a look," Adam said to the Winchesters as Bobby closed out the video program.
Bobby passed the laptop over to Sam and Dean who eagerly began paging through the images. There were pictures of groups dressed up as Smurfs and Oompa-loompas, vampires, aliens and of course plenty of cowboys and dance hall girls celebrating the town's Wild West past. In another sub-folder they found photos of Adam's wife and another woman, both dressed in period costume, standing proudly beside a sign that read:
Grand Opening
Bella Union Saloon
Est. 1876Pictures from the building's interior showed a roulette wheel, craps and poker tables, and Dean grinned remembering that small stakes gambling was legal in Deadwood. No need for shady back rooms and keeping watch over his shoulder for cops, he could make some extra cash while indulging in his appreciation-not obsession like Sam insisted- of the old west all by the light of day. Then the pictures started getting more personal: images from what looked like family birthday parties and Christmas celebrations flipped across the screen and just as Sam was about to close the laptop one photo in particular caught both their attention.
"Uh... Lucy?" Dean said in his best Ricky Ricardo voice. "I think you got some 'splainin to do." He turned the screen in Bobby's direction, showing him a picture of himself dressed in pajamas and a robe and seated between two women: a young blonde who looked to be in her late twenties and an older woman with salt and pepper hair. He had his arms around both of them and they in turn were holding him tightly, leaning in to rest their heads against his shoulders. Dean glanced at the old hunter with a mixture of awe and revulsion. "Is this another part of your secret life? You're a Wild West Hugh Hefner?" He looked back at the screen, noticing both women wore similar gold rings. "Or a Mormon?"
Bobby glared at Adam accusingly, but instead of wearing his usual smirk the other man looked both surprised and apologetic. He turned back to the boys and started to explain. "It ain't what you're thinking-"
"Yeah, whatever you say, Big Love," Dean interrupted and turned the screen back to examine the picture again, then it finally clicked where he'd seen the younger girl before. "Blonde zombie chick." He tapped a finger against the image of the smiling blonde, her pretty face no longer hidden behind layers of Halloween makeup. "This is the blonde zombie chick you couldn't take your eyes off of in that video, isn't it? C'mon, Bobby, fess up. You got yourself a couple of sisterwives waiting at home?"
"Well, you're right about the 'sisters' part." Bobby took a deep breath. "They're my daughters."
oooOOOooo
Present Day:
MacLeod Richie Adam Logan/Methos
1877:
Dr. Matthew Adams/Methos E.B. Farnum Alma & Ellsworth Sofia
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A/N2: With the arrival of Adam/Methos we move more into the Deadwood section of this story and I feel the need to state something for the record. My version of the city of Deadwood is what I imagine David Milch's Deadwood might have evolved into had the characters and events in that series been real. So, like his story, mine will be a blend of fact (such as Mustang Sally's and the "Deadweird" festival) and fiction (E.B. Farnum did not own the Grand Central and Alma Garret Ellsworth never existed.) Where fact and fiction collide I will defer to Milch's version. While I've made every attempt to portray Deadwood and the surrounding areas accurately it's been a long time since I last visited the historic city, so my apologies to Black Hills residents for any errors I've made. Other than historical figures used in Deadwood and Highlander canon and some public figures mentioned in passing, any similarity to actual individuals living or dead is purely coincidental, and no offence is intended.