Howdy partners! :P

I spent Sunday afternoon watching 'Gunfight at the O.K. Corral' giving me the urge to write another western and slowly a plot formed in my head, then turning into this.

Warnings again for mild dub!con, porn and silly placenames. Also, I have fixed typos and spelling to the best of my ability. If I spot any tomorrow I will correct them.

Again, I have to give you a soundtrack. If you go to youtube and search for the title of the movie and Frankie Laine you can find the opening credits with that great song. I hope you enjoy this fic. It grew a little larger than I intended but isn't that always the case?

PS. Burt Lancaster was very handsome. :)

It was a Thursday afternoon, and Dean Winchester, sheriff of Drywood, was taking a round of the outskirts of town. He wanted to make sure nothing was going on without his knowing. The Bunty brothers were in the area and the town had had trouble with them a year previously. As he came to the clearing north of town he spottet two figures standing under a tree. He rode closer and saw it was Castiel James, the barber's son, and Beatrice Barker, the blacksmith's daughter. They were in a close embrace and kissing. Dean looked at them for a moment. For some reason it bothered him to see. He shook the feeling and rode closer. As the kids heard him come they quickly parted. When Beatrice saw who it was, her cheeks went red and even Castiel looked a little embarrassed but he never took his eyes from Dean's.

"What are you kids doing out here? There are bandits in the area." He sounded angrier than he meant to.

Beatrice gasped and looked at Castiel to take her back to town.

"We just wanted some privacy," Castiel said, sounding too self-assured for Dean's taste.

"Go back to town and stay there. It's not safe out here," Dean said, ignoring Castiel's stare. He watched as Castiel mounted his horse and pulled Beatrice up behind him. He kept watching them as they rode off in the direction of town. That James kid had no sense whatsoever, he thought.

He finished his round without incident and arrived back in town just as the sun was setting. He went into his office and poured himself a cup of coffee. He hadn't failed to notice Castiel staring at him as he rode past the barber's. The kid got under his skin, much as he hated to admit it. Dean had been sheriff of Drywood for only three days when he had had to put Castiel in a prison cell. He had been caught stealing appels fom the grocer's and Dean had hauled him off and put him in a prison cell to teach him a lesson. He knew Castiel's father wasn't home but would be back the same afternoon, so he decided to teach the kid what it would be like if he chose a life of crime. Nip it in the bud, was his philosophy. Castiel had only been ten years old and even though Dean had expected him to maybe cry, he had stayed quiet and just looked at Dean with a look in his eyes that said "What are you going to do now?" It had annoyed Dean. Really annoyed him. To the point that he had to go and sit on the bench outside until he saw Martin James come down the street in his buggy. Dean had stopped him and told him what had happened and Martin had been furious. He had a business to run and it didn't look good if his son got a reputation as a criminal. Dean managed to calm him down; he didn't want Castiel to get a beating when he got home, and he convinced Martin that spending four hours in a cell was enough punishment. Only when Dean went to unlock the cell and Castiel saw his father did his eyes change and he looked a little scared. Dean had put his hand on the young boy's shoulder and had felt him tremble a little. Trying to comfort him, he had said that it had been sorted with his father and that Dean didn't expect to see him here again and Castiel had nodded and left in silence.

Two weeks later, as Dean was walking down the street to check on widow Carter, who was sure someone had been lurking about her house during the night, he had been called over by the grocer, Frank Gordon. He had seen that James kid provling around outside his shop and he was sure he was up to no good. Dean had given him a tired smile and went to look for Castiel. He had found him behind the shop and had asked him what he was doing there. Castiel had looked at him with wide innocent eyes and said he wasn't doing anything. He had seen a kitten and he wanted to bring it home and give it something to eat.

"Then you are doing something," Dean had said, earning him another look from Castiel. Didn't that kid ever smile, Dean thought. "I hope the kitten is all you're taking with you," Dean had said.

Castiel had just nodded and hadn't taken his eyes off Dean, who had felt a little unsure if he should stay and actually look to see if there was a cat around. He had decided to give Castiel the benefit of the doubt and had gone off for widow Carter's. He had spent about 20 minutes looking around outside her house and trying to calm her down. He couldn't see anything out of order and nothing had been stolen. It had been a bit windy, so he told her that must have been it. She still seemed a little unnerved so Dean had told her he would come and check on her around ten that evening. She had settled for that and gone back to her sewing. Widow Carter was known in town for her masterfully crafted quilts. Dean himself was later to receive one of them as thanks for always being so helpful to her, and it kept him warm and cosy on cold nights.

The next time he had a run in with Castiel was two years later. This time he had come across a group of five boys on their way home from school. They had disagreed on something and had decided to settle it with a fight behind the lumber yard. Castiel and his friend Simon had been outnumbered but they had still managed to give one of the other boys a split lip. Another would get a black eye in the morning and the third one had escaped with only a few bruises. Castiel had been punched in the face, giving him a bloody nose, and pushed to the ground. Simon had been kiched in the ribs and he was limping a little as Castiel walked him home. Dean had had his deputy, Thomas Ward, with him and that had been his luck because the boys had been fiesty as hell. He had told them to stay clear of each other for the next few days and if he ever saw them do this again he would have to speak to their parents.

Castiel had wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve and looked at him in silence. Dean wasn't sure he had gotten the message, so he had grabbed hold of his shoulder, making him start. When Dean had asked if he understood, he had just nodded and dragged Simon off.

Dean had walked back to the sheriff's office with Thomas, wondering if Castiel was all there in the head. He had asked Thomas about him and was told that his mother had died when he was five and that his older brother had left a short while later. He had been ten years older than Castiel so he could take care of himself. The kids out here grew up fast. Now Dean understood him better; he had lost his own mother when he was just a boy.

Life in town went on again and Dean only saw Castiel sporadically. There were a few skirmishes between townsfolk and an attempted bank robbery where Dean had been shot in the arm, and then there was the new school teacher, Miss Wander, who became very popular with the bachelors. Dean himself had at one point wondered if he should give it a try but he didn't have much patience with women. He never went to the prostitutes in the salloon; he didn't think it fitting for the law to be seen in compromising positions, or imagined in compromising positions. He had the full respect of the people in town and wasn't about to put that in danger. Any needs he had he took care of himself.

Oh yeah, except for that time in Fulton. He had been home to check on his old father, a journey that took three days each way, and when he had come to Fulton he had figured himself far enough away from Drywood that he had been with a prostitute. She was fairly new in the game, that was really the reason Dean had gone with her. The prostitutes you usually saw weren't too appetizing, ragged as they were from the hard life. He had taken her hard and quick, while she was on her back but it hadn't been good enough for him. He had managed to get her on her hands and knees and then he had finished while his body was shaking from the long wanted sensation of being inside another person. He had felt a little ashamed the next morning but had pushed the feeling aside. Nobody would ever know.

When Castiel was 15 he left school to work for his father. It was his father's wish that he carried on the barber shop. Castiel himself had never uttered other wishes. Dean went to the barber shop himself on occasion and he felt very much under Castiel's scrutiny when he was there. Castiel wasn't allowed to shave people yet, he had to learn first, and anyway, a 15 year old kid shaving grown men was a funny thought. Dean couldn't keep a smile from his face the first time he had been there after Castiel had begun working there. Castiel himself didn't even have a stubble yet and Dean wasn't eager to let him near him with a shaving knife. Castiel had to watch and learn and he certainly watched when Dean was there. He still didn't talk much and Dean couldn't help asking if a good barber wasn't someone who could chat with his customers. Castiel just looked at him and left his father to answer. He was sure Castiel would get over his shyness. When Dean left, putting his hat on with a fluent motion, he gave Castiel a wide smile. He had just been poking fun, but he was afraid Castiel had taken it to heart. Castiel's eyes finally changed a little and he managed to find the tiniest of smiles.

A couple of months later, Martin the barber was seen around town with little nicks and cuts on his face. To everyone's amusement he had made himself giunie pig for Castiel and he was a testament of Castiel's progress. It wasn't until his face looked normal again that the customers gave permission for Castiel to shave them. Dean was a little unnerved when it was his turn to be asked the dreaded question: "Will you let Castiel take care of you?"

"Erm, sure," Dean said. But he didn't feel sure. He sat tentatively down in the chair. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days because he had been helping with a cattle drive through the area and now he wanted a professional shave and a bit of pampering. He had been sweaty and dirty and had just been for a bath at the hotel.

Castiel seemed as nervous as him as he removed the hot towel from his face and soaped up Dean's face. Up close, he smelled a little of aftershave, a floral scent Dean couldn't pinpoint. Then he took the shaving knife and as he was going to open it to sharpen it, it slipped from his hands and fell into Dean's lap. Dean jumped in his seat because he didn't know it was still closed. Castiel mumbled an apology and reached down to pick it up. As he did his hand came close to Dean's groin and brushed against his thigh. Dean made a surprised sound and Castiel apologized again, going red in the cheeks, and explained the knife wasn't open. Dean took a deep breath and relaxed. Castiel went about his business and once he got started he wasn't actually bad. He had soft hands and was very careful not to cut Dean. When he had washed the remaining soap off Dean's face, he asked if he wanted aftershave. Dean thought for a moment; it wasn't really his thing. But then he agreed. He asked for the same one that Castiel was wearing and for the first time Castiel smiled a little. He rubbed a little on Dean's face and for a moment it felt to Dean like he enjoyed caressing his face. It burned a little and he made a face.

"Sorry," Castiel said, removing his hands by stroking them down Dean's cheeks and off him. It left Dean feeling a little strange and he felt the ghostly touch of Castiel against his thigh. He payed and went back to the hotel to get something to eat. Just as he was tucking into some long wanted pie, he was approached by the mayor, Julius Baker, who had heard he was back. He told Dean about the Bunty brothers who had been rumoured to be in the area. They had robbed banks in every town they came through and if they were on their way to Drywood they knew what they could expect and had to be ready for it. Dean was worried and when he was done eating he and the mayor went to the sheriff's office to ask Thomas if he had heard anything. He had heard the same rumours as the mayor and was waiting for a moment to talk to Dean about it. Thomas had spoken to a traveller the day before who said the Bunty brothers were in the area and they had robbed banks in both Fallon and Wheatstalk. The bank of Drywood would most likely be on their list.

Dean called in all the men who he knew could use a gun and briefed them about what was going on. A few of them were made temporary deputies and they arranged groups who would patrol on a rotary system. They also placed extra guards by the bank.

In the evening, after all the shops were closed, Dean was in his office trying to plan ahead for plan B and C and even D in case they would need it. The door was opened and Castiel's head peeked through the gap. Dean was surprised to see him.

"Castiel, what can I do for you?"

"I want to sign up. For helping. With the Bunty brothers." That was the most words Dean had heard him say since the cat incident.

"You're too young," he said, simply.

"I'm fifteen."

"It's out of the question." Dean wasn't in the mood to argue about this.

"I can shoot."

Dean looked at him, dubiously.

"Really?" he said. "Do you even own a gun?"

"No, but you can lend me one."

Dean laughed loudly. "No. Now go home before your father starts to wonder where you are."

He could tell by the look on Castiel's face that he was hurt, but he also looked defiant. Without saying anything else, he turned around and left.

They only had to wait two days, then the five Bunty brothers came to Drywood. They were surprised to find the town so prepared and they escaped by shooting their way out, leaving behind one dead brother and an injured sheriff. Dean was shot in the left side and was unconscious for three weeks. Nobody knew if he would survive. He had strange dreams while he was on his sick bed. People took turns sitting with him, even Castiel, who kept watch one night two weeks after the shooting. During that night, Dean had a dream about the prostite from Fulton. It was very vivid; he could practically feel her warm hand on his length and smell her. She smelled like Castiel. The feeling of a building orgasm went through the haze and he felt the pull in his groin as he thrust upwards from the mattress. He came with a groan and spilled himself into thin air. About a week later he woke up but it would take another two weeks before he was back in his office. The whole town was glad he had made it, he was the best sheriff they had had in years.

The first time Dean went to the barber's after he was shot, Castiel was alone in the shop. When he saw Dean, he looked away unable to meet his gaze. It was strange, because he always looked Dean straight in the eye. Dean sat in the chair and asked for a quick shave, nothing fancy. Castiel soaped him up and started shaving him. His hands were trembling slightly but he managed to shave Dean without nicking him. Puzzled by his behaviour, Dean asked him if he was still angry he hadn't been allowed to fight the brothers. Castiel looked at him quickly and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. No, he said, he wasn't angry. Dean nodded and left. That kid was surely strange. After that, Castiel had gone back to blatantly staring Dean down whenever they met.

About a year later, there were new rumours about the Bunty brothers and that was why Dean was making his rounds and had come across Castiel and Beatrice. Dean had been wondering if Castiel should be allowed to join the fight this time. He had grown taller and put on a bit of weight, though he was still on the wiry side. He was almost 17 now. But since he was so thoughtless as to bring a girl out here knowing there were bandits, he didn't seem to have enough sense for it.

The door to the sheriff's office opened and Castiel came in. He was walking in, sure of himself, not like the year before where he had only dared to pop his head through the crack. Dean sighed. He knew why he was there.

"I want to join the fight this time," he said and looked at Dean.

Dean looked back, contemplating. "It was stupid bringing that girl so far outside of town," he said.

Castiel swallowed, his eyes flickering with guilt for a second. Dean stood up and went to get another cup of coffee. He liftet the coffee pot towards Castiel and he nodded. Dean poured him a cup as well and handed it to him. Then he went and sat down behind his desk.

"So can I?" Castiel asked when Dean didn't say anything.

Dean thought for a while. He really didn't want Castiel there and he couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because he had known him since he was a child and didn't want anything to happen to him. But he had to accept that he was getting older.

"If your father says it's ok," Dean finally said.

Castiel rolled his eyes. "He'll never say yes," he said.

"Well, then I guess you won't be there," Dean said.

Castiel turned his back to him and finished his coffee, fidgeting with the wanted posters. "Do you remember anything from the time you were shot. I mean from when you were unconscious," he suddenly asked.

Dean looked at him in surprise. "No, I was unconscious," he said.

Castiel nodded and turned around again. He put his cup on the table and said goodnight, leaving without looking Dean in the eye.

Again, Dean thought how strange he was. Maybe it was a good thing he wouldn't be there for the fight. Dean wouldn't have time to worry about him too.