A/N: So this was born of my adoration of Clint Eastwood's westerns and just the western genre in general. This is a wincest fic and there will be some graphic stuff later on, so if that's not your thing you have been warned. Anyway I plan on updating this every week, probably on Mondays. Thanks for reading I hope you enjoy it. :)
Chapter One:
Revenge Is A Young Man's Game
"O bury me not on the lone prairie. These words came low and mournfully from the pallid lips of the youth who lay on his dying bed at the close of day."
Wyoming, 1877
The merciless sun which had baked the hard packed earth since dawn, was now setting swiftly and decisively. The scorched earth held all the fury of the sun now and heat radiated up from below any travelers still out after sunset. The land, though unforgiving, was also beautiful. Wide stretches of horizon unbroken by any landmarks, manmade or otherwise and the desert as lethal as it was, held an unearthly fascination for its vastness and beauty. A fascination that many men had found themselves robbed of once ensconced in its unending uniformity.
Two men, weary from the road dropped from their horses, fatigue slowing their movements. They walked through the semi-deserted streets of the town whose name they would forget as soon as they left, they were never any one place long enough to bother with remembering. The shorter and elder of the two men gestured to the saloon with a mischievous grin. The younger man followed half-heartedly, a look of resignation on his face.
They entered the saloon and sat themselves in an unoccupied corner, where they would hopefully go unnoticed. The short man whose eyes shone green in the dim lamplight motioned for a drink. It was brought to him by an aging gentleman and was thrown back eagerly. After securing a second drink the younger man whose angular features were overshadowed with concern turned to the other.
"We shouldn't be here." He said in a half-whisper.
"Relax Sam," the older man said. "It's just a minute or two, sides we been ridin' all day. I need a drink."
"Fine Dean, ya have your drink, then we go. It's dangerous for us ta be out like this."
Dean just nodded and tossed back another shot of whiskey. He grimaced as the liquid burned its way down his throat, warming him from the inside and sending a calmness through him he rarely felt. They passed another few tense minutes while Dean drank his fill and at last they stood to go, Sam sighing in relief as they did. As they approached the door a firm hand fell on Sam's shoulder, anchoring him in place. The two men turned in unison to see who had accosted them. A large beefy man, with a heavily pockmarked face and bulbous red nose, looked at them malice in his eyes.
"You them boys ever 'one's lookin' for." He spoke in a self-important drawl.
"We aint nobody Mister," Dean said smoothly. "And less ya want trouble I suggest ya let us git on our way."
"Oohoo, we got ourselves a coupla tough guys here, 'less I want trouble.'" The man scoffed. "I nose you're them boys, I rode in from Greenhollow just this evenin', seems ya made yourselves quite a name there. I seent all them posters they had up, and I never forget a face, fella."
"Listen here you sonofabitch, I'm tellin' ya we aint them, now for your own good, just let it go." Dean said, his voice had dropped to a deadly whisper.
The man reached for his hip, and Sam quick as a snake drew his pistol and shot the gun the man had drawn out of his hand. The man crumpled to the ground clutching his bloody hand, now full of shrapnel. Sam grabbed Dean by the lapels of his tattered duster and dragged him from the saloon. They mounted their already wearied horses and spurred them into a gallop. Riding hard straight through the small town and out into the wild country. They rode for several minutes, both listening hard for any signs of pursuit. Just as they had begun to breathe easy again they heard it. The pounding of hooves, and shouting of several men.
They looked to each other, expressions grim. The man had gathered a posse to run them down. Sam knew that their horses were too worn out, to out run the gang and the look on Dean's face told him that Dean knew it too. Sam spurred his horse on, trying to figure a way out for them. He took in the lay of the land as they rode, and seeing a small valley saw his chance. He motioned to Dean to follow his lead and headed for the mouth of the valley. The sound of thundering hooves grew closer and Sam chanced a look back to see four men, the leader the man who had drew on them. They carried guns and Sam knew that once within distance, they would not hesitate to use them.
They galloped into the valley and Sam scanned the walls searching, hoping. He caught sight of a small opening in the rock, sending silent thanks to anyone who may be listening. He rode for it and Dean followed him. Sam dismounted and began gathering what brush to him that he could. Dean dropped from his horse and helped him. They piled the brush outside the small cave and to the side to shield the horses from view. Sam wedged the reins between two rocks and they retreated into the cramped space, pulling the brush over the entrance to hide them from view, both hoping that had acted quickly enough for their pursuers not to have seen. They crouched in silence and when they heard the group of men pass, they relaxed only slightly. It was a long while before they dared to speak. It was Dean who eventually broke the silence.
"That was too damn close." He said quietly.
"I told ya we shouldn't have gone there." Sam said, weariness taking the place of the gloating tone he normally would have taken. He always relished in having the upper hand on his big brother, the result no doubt of being the youngest.
"Yeah well," Dean began, his tone conciliatory. "Thanks brother, ya saved our hides back there."
"Don't I always?" Sam asked a little more smugly than before.
"Don't push it." Dean said warningly, but there was a smile on his face that said otherwise.
Sam looked around their dwelling, his spirits falling slightly. "We can't risk a fire, they might still be out there. So no supper, might as well just turn in."
Dean sighed exaggeratedly, he hated missing a meal, which happened far too often in his opinion. "Well since it was your quick thinkin' got us outta that mess, I'll take first watch." Sam removed his hat, dusty from the road and rolled over without another word. He was asleep in minutes. Dean crouched at the mouth of the cave, poised to strike if there was any trouble. He knew their dismal quarters for the evening were his fault, and wanted to make it up to Sam. Sam hated taking unnecessary chances, something that Dean did all too often. It wasn't something he could help, it was just in his nature.
The night grew colder and Dean removed his coat and draped it over Sam's long form. He smiled at the peaceful look on his brother's face, a look he saw so infrequently now. It'd be easier if they weren't outlaws, Dean thought to himself for the hundredth time. But there was nothing for it, you couldn't do what they did and not break a few laws, or several. You see, they were hunters and not of any game you've ever seen. They hunted monsters and demons and all of the terrible things mothers used to keep misbehaving children in line. They hunted nightmares and not without its price.
They were wanted and hunted wherever they went, everyone knew their names, the Winchesters. Hell, they were more talked of than Jesse James himself. Their father had set them on this path when they were just boys. Their mother had been killed by the demon they call Yellow Eyes, when Dean was four years old. And from that day on their father, John Winchester had hunted the monster that had taken his beloved Mary from him. The road was long and as the boys grew their father grew no closer to finding what he sought. The drink stole what little warmth the man still possessed and his blind sidedness and lust for vengeance would prove to be his downfall.
About a year ago, John's road finally came to an end, but not in the manner he had expected. He found ol' Yellow Eyes at long last and instead of waiting for the backup of his two sons, now young men, he charged in half-cocked, blinded by his rage and was cut down by the demon. Shot down in the street, like a dog. When the boys finally arrived it was too late, and from that day forward a fire had been lit within them, the same savage need for vengeance that their father had harbored for so long. What they had failed to learn from John's example, is that revenge is a dangerous game not for the faint of heart and if they weren't careful they would lose more than they imagined.
To lose one another would be worse than death, Dean had all but raised Sam and they were closer than two brothers probably had any right to be. They knew their sin well and worked hard to keep it concealed, lest it be plastered on those wretched posters with all their other misdeeds. To lie with a man was vile enough in the eyes of most, but one's brother, that was an entirely new level of indecency. Their relationship had been as such for as long as either of them could remember. All they had ever really had was each other and their love went beyond that of mere filial affection. In their eyes all of the world consisted of just the two of them, or the only part of the world that mattered anyway, and it suited them just fine.
The night wore on and Dean let Sam sleep, he needed it and Dean owed him for getting them in this mess in the first place. As the sun began to rise Sam awoke and seeing how late it had grown, looked at Dean disapprovingly. "Why didn't ya wake me?" he asked.
"Cause ya look so darn sweet when you sleep." Dean replied with a coy smile.
"Well now ya aint had any sleep and I've gone and had too much." Sam countered.
"I'll be fine." Dean said. "Sides I owed ya one."
"Yes ya did, and I'm thinkin' since ya almost got us killed again, you owe me just a mite more." Sam replied returning his brother's smile.
"Is that so?" asked Dean. "And what might that be?"
"Just this." Sam said bringing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Dean returned the kiss eagerly, running his hands through Sam's hair. After they had parted, they lingered for a moment, breaths mingling as they looked into one another's eyes. These moments were precious to them, the few moments where everything melted away, the loss, the hunt, the harshness of the road. It all faded into nothingness, because they knew that what truly mattered was right in front of them. They gathered their things together and exited the little cave. They mounted their horses and Dean turned to Sam.
"I don't know bout you, but I got to git some food into me afore I keel over." He said.
"We'll ride a ways, find some place safe ta stop, once we've had breakfast we can figger out our next move." Sam replied, always the voice of reason.
They rode through several towns and many miles before Sam was satisfied that they'd gone far enough. They rode into an almost entirely deserted town. They'd seen it's like before. A town is thriving, then the railway moves away and it's the end of everything. There were still a few folks too stubborn to move on living there. It was always this way, always old men who refused to go, men too set in their ways to start a new life somewhere else. They would go eventually, when they had no other choice. Then the town would fall to ruin and desiccation and would be overrun by outlaws and bandits, but for now it was quiet, it was safe.
They stopped and wandered into the general store, one of the only businesses still inhabited. Dean approached the man behind the counter. "Any place round here a man might get a hot meal?" he asked casually.
"Well," said the clerk. "There aint much of anything left round here, you fellas look wore out form the road."
"We are." Sam agreed. "Been ridin' hard near on two days now."
"Ya don't wanta go ridin' your horse into ground mister, it aint right." The clerk said disapprovingly.
"We aint had a choice in the matter." Said Dean.
"I know how it is." The clerk. "I aint always been behind a counter, sellin' wares if ya can believe it.
"Oh I believe it." Dean said with an easy smile. "Bet you was quite the hell raiser in your day, old man."
The clerk laughed deep in his belly. "Oho that I was son. I tell ya what, my Bonnie should be fixin' up lunch soon. Why don't you fellas join us, we'd be proud to have ya."
"That sounds just fine." Dean said.
"Yes Sir, just fine." Sam added.
The clerk led them through the small shop, boasting what meager wares it could. Through a door and up a flight of stairs in the back, they were led to a cramped apartment above the shop. There were to rooms, a place for fixing meals and a place for sleeping. It wasn't much, but Dean liked it, it felt like home. They caught sight of a woman in her sixties working at a large pot on the stove. She turned when she heard them come in. The clerk stepped up to his wife and placed a gentle kiss on her wrinkled cheek.
"Who've you got with ya, Artie?" she asked eyeing the young men.
Artie turned toward them and Sam stepped forward. "My name is Silas and this here is my partner Jacob."
Dean nodded his agreement. "Pleased ta meet ya Ma'am." He said tipping his hat to her.
"They rode in just today lookin' for a hot meal, I figgered we could have em' for lunch. We aint much of a town anymore, but we's still decent people that's left. Couldn't just turn em' away could we?" Artie said to his wife.
"No of course not." Bonnie said smiling warmly at them. "Why don't you boy have a seat, rest up a bit."
Sam and Dean removed their hats and coats and sat themselves at the worn oak table and Artie joined them. "So where you fellas headed so fast you aint got time to rest your horses?" Artie asked curiously.
"We're bounty hunters, down from Greenhollow." Sam said. "Been huntin' them Winchester boys a long while now."
"Coupla flighty bastards they is." Dean added.
"Well, good luck to ya. I heard stories bout them boys. They's into all manner of devilish things, they aint got the sperit, I tell ya. Who exhumes a grave if they aint figgerin' to rob it? What is they really up to?"
"I don't rightly know Sir, but we hope to put an end to em' mighty soon." Sam told him solemnly.
"God bless ya." Artie said.
At that moment Bonnie arrived at the table with a steaming pot of something that smelled delicious. "Enough of that talk," she said firmly. "Now I hope you boys like stew, it aint much, but it's all we got."
"It smells delicious, Ma'am." Dean replied heartily.
Bonnie served them all a heaping portion of stew and they all sat down to eat, the younger men with quite a deal more relish. After they'd eaten their fill they rose and pulled their dusty coats on, placed their hats on their heads and turned to the couple who had shown them such kindness. "Thank ya much." Sam told them gratefully. "You been awful kind to us."
"It was no trouble." Artie said. "We was happy ta have ya."
"You stay safe out there, them Winchesters aint to be trifled with." Bonnie said.
"We will Ma'am, and thank ya for lunch. Been a long time since I tasted cooking as fine as yours." Dean said.
"If ya lookin' for a place to hang your hat, Samson'll put folks up now and again, just down the street from here." Artie told them.
"We'll head on over now." Sam replied, lifting his hand in farewell.
They left the apartment and soon found themselves in the deserted street again. They made their way along until they came to an old hotel, abandoned by the look of it. They headed inside and got themselves a double room from the man Samson, who seemed surprised and delighted to be having guests to fill the many rooms that had long stood empty. Once settled in the room Dean turned to his brother. "Alright, we need a plan." He said. "All this wanderin' around aint gettin' us anywhere."
"Well what did ya have in mind exactly?" Sam asked him.
"I don't know." Dean tossing his hat down onto the bed and running a hand through his short sandy hair.
"We got to do something." Sam said tiredly. "We can't just keep runnin' in circles forever."
"We aint just runnin' in circles." Dean replied defensively. "We been workin' other cases, been savin' lives, like Pa taught us."
"Yellow Eyes has got to be stopped, I aint lettin' him hurt nobody else."
Dean sighed. "We could always pay a visit ta Bobby, he knows more bout these things than anyone, even Pa and South Dakota aint far."
"Him and Pa had it out purty bad last time they seent each other. Ya think he'd even help us?"
"Bobby was always good ta us, even when Pa wasn't, specially when Pa wasn't. I think he's our best shot."
Sam nodded. "Well while we're here you should get some sleep, you aint had none in days. We'll head on out to Singer Ranch tomorra'."
With a plan, as shaky as it seemed, Dean was finally able to relax enough to sleep, though his dreams were plagued by fire and pain. Sam watched over his brother as he slept and it pained him to see the fear on his features where there should be peace. Dean looked like a frightened child, the same child that had seen his Ma burn so many years ago. Sam brushed a thumb gently along Dean's cheek, hoping that their journey would be over soon, hoping that could stop running, that they could just be together the way they had always dreamed of. He watched his brother sleep and waited, but for what he could not tell.
A/N: So I hoped you liked the first chapter, I'll see ya next week.