Why am I starting another Supernatural Story? Because I am stupid and Rachael and Lulu wanted me to, that's why. I do not own Supernatural but I do own this story. I am very excited about this story though, it's a western AU so you know it's gonna be a rompin' good ol' time! So sit back and let me spin y'all a tale - of a hunter of the law and a young piano man.

The banjo hummed and laughed, the strings plucked to make a fantastic twang like tune as skilled fingers strummed and slapped at the instrument.

Nails plucked short made a fine show of playing along the twine, fluttering the sound into the hot Kansas air that reeked of leather oil, dust, and the sweet sweet scent of alfalfa hay.

He must have been out here on this old rickety porch for a good bought of the morning if his sore bow legs had anything to say about it. He absently kicked his right leg up to rest it on the low cut fence near the hitching posts, his eyes getting a fill of his muddied boots as he reminded himself to clean them later. He had to keep up appearances after all, being the Sherriff of these here parts.

He chewed his lip absently, the taste coming back salty with sweat and tangy with his last shot of whiskey - it was never too early for a drink in this God forsaken town. Usually there was a whole range of trouble a brewin' in the wee early hours of the morning before it erupted into full blown chaos. It was always the snapping sound of guns a flaring down near the last strip of land near the saloon that Ellen and her kids ran, or when Crowley's big hounds got loose from their chains and started to tear and maim Rufus's sheep stock, or when some yahoo's came a riding into town causing trouble in the form of bloodshed and slurred words. It was a pity to put a man six feet under, but the law was the law - no money for bail and a sentence worse than the ball and stripes mean gallows or a chest full of lead. It was the criminals right to choose, Dean gave him at least that much of a choice.

However, nothing had happened today all morning, till the first one of old Singers roosters crowed to the last of Ellens sinister apple pies were laid out on the window sill to cool.

Time just went on a ticking and it made Dean's skin itch, finding some comfort in plucking the strings of his old banjo that his Daddy had given him when he was just a little brat, just plucking the strings with no reason or rhyme. At least now he could carry a tune that didn't make the alley cats yowl in the night.

Dean sighed through his teeth as he looked out from the brim of his hat towards the town that was under his jurisdiction, his horse snorting softy from her place at the hitching post.

There were people already out and about with their daily lives, lugging sacks of flour for feeding hungry families into wagons perched on rickety wheels, horses lounging at the hitching posts that they were tied to as they stamped their hooves impatiently, men laughing at another funny joke before talking a ladle full of water down their lips, women in pretty petty coats balancing parasols in tiny hands as they went on their way.

Dean smiled and absently plucked another string, hearing the sharp noise through his ears, the echo sinking into his mind - music always did that to him, made the best out of him when nothing else could. He guessed it was his Mamma's fault that he had an ear for it, her always playing the piano on Sunday afternoons after Church.

His Mamma' could sing like the best of them - Dean was convinced she was part mockingbird, and that after the Lord took her from this earth he made her into a twittering bird to sing at morning, noon, and night.

It was a nice thought and it got Dean through most of the day when his heart grew sick or lonesome. Being an orphan tended to do that to a person.

But he wasn't completely alone. He had his kid brother Sammy - a fine boy, already dreaming of becoming a lawyer in the golden hills of California -, and Sam's Fiancé Jess who was one of the kindest woman Dean had ever laid eyes on. She made sure there was food in the ice box and supper on the table for the boys whenever Dean came home from the Jail House and Sam from the little town hall that housed the judges court.

He had a pretty good life, all in all. Well, except for the little golden metal star on his breast pocket that was the universal sign for target practice. There was a reason why his Daddy, the Sherriff before him, was weary of taking up the job. But after Deans Mamma' was killed in a house fire when Dean and Sam were young, his Daddy gone and grabbed his six shooter and went out looking for the man who did it.

It didn't take him more than twenty six years of his life to find the man who had done the deed - Pappa Winchester always told the story of how old yellow eyes flailed before the rope snapped his neck nice and sharp. It was his Daddy's favorite story to tell.

But the justice of his Mamma's death wasn't without a price - old yellow eyes had nicked his dad in the chest with his colt, resulting in him being bed ridden. The wound bruised for a few days, festering for a few weeks, until two months went by and John Winchester was laid in the bone orchard in a pine box.

It was no more than three years ago, and it still hurt his chest something fierce, but Dean knew he would be alright - he had Sammy to look after, had a town to manage and crooks and thieves to shoot down. His life was simple and peachy keen - better than most. Least he wasn't working the coal mines or riding on some sour mare herding cattle up North. No, Dean was perfectly at ease with his routine yet dangerous life - that was, until Sammy, lankly legs and all, came a runnin' up to the porch where Dean sat brooding like a hen without an egg.

"Dean - I have news, big news!" Sam's voice huffed as he ceased his running to lean tiredly on the nearby hitching post where Deans pride and joy - a coal black Quarter-Horse by the name of Impala - was tied and began to tittered and stamp her feet, aching and restless to go for a ride through the back meadows fat with grass.

"Sammy, I swear to the Lord above, if you're about to go off on some Lawyer lingo I will dunk your head in the water trough." Dean warned, his fingers stilling on the banjo as he looked up from his hat at his younger but taller brother.

Sam merely shook his head, gulping down another breath of air before he even bothered to try to tell his story that had him running from the court house in town hall to Deans office near the jailhouse.

At first glance, the boy did look like his Mamma the most - that was the truth.

A whole mop of coffee colored hair that went past his ears, edged by sideburns as big as Texas - Dean had always begged the damn fool to cut his hair to a normal, respectable length, but Sam would always insist that Jess liked it and that was that.

He was dressed in a nice suit jacket over a neatly pressed grey vest, all complete with a cross over tie and stock pin. He was missing his hat which made Dean kick his feet off the porch railings, his focus on his brother suddenly a bit more serious - damn kid never went anywhere without his fancy-yuppy hat.

"Dean, there are people - new folk, comin' up along the hills! Rufus said he saw them up near his place early in the morning crossing the river in two covered wagons pulled by a sorry looking team of oxen. He reckon's they're here to settle down!" Sam's voice was that high pitched kind of excited tone that Dean detested so much - it meant his brother was going to try, with all his might, to befriend these new folk so that maybe he could carry an intelligent conversation once in a while in this damn town.

Sam was just as strained in this environment as Dean, maybe some new meat in these parts would liven things up. A simple life had it's pleasures, but some new neighbors that weren't old man Singer and Rufus would be mighty appreciated.

"Oh really now? They crossed Siren river in a covered wagon? Hope they didn't loose any stock - that's a mean river crossing - sure as hell drowned it's share of oxen." Dean bit his lip, shuffling his boots on the dry planks of the porch as he set his banjo down against the red painted wall that was beginning to chip.

"They must have crossed it alright - because little Ben, y'know Lisa's boy? He was on his pony near the walnut trees when he came riding up to the law house making a racket - said the family was here, that they would be coming soon!" The grin on Sam's face could light up the kerosene lamps on the street for months.

Dean sighed with a weary frown before he wedged his left hand in his trouser pocket, his other coming up to scratch Impala behind the ear, the horse nickering at the attention finally paid to her.

"I suppose they wanna' settle down then. After Bella left with her riches from oil on her cattle pastures, her little house has gone up for sale - hasn't it?" Dean asked the other Winchester brother, his face making an unpleasant grimace at the mention of the funny-talking broad who was more trouble than she was worth.

"That's what I was thinking!" Sam exclaimed with a grin at the prospect of new people roaming the streets - the potential for more work for him at his job at the court house looking brighter at each second that passed. New folk always meant papers to sign, verifications, yuppy work that Sam had grown to love and Dean had no urge to ever do. The older Winchester was content with his six shooter that his Daddy gave him, his pain in the ass horse, and a bottle of dark whisky. No stuffy lawyer office for him, no siree'!

"So, I think you should get on your crowbait horse and ride on up to the town entrance to greet them real nice and friendly, convince them to stay, and then see if they got a pretty single girl in their family to marry." Sam grinned back at his brother, his eyes hopeful and expectant.

"First of all, Sammy - Impala is not crowbait, how dare you even suggest such a thing about my baby - secondly, I am not badgering these people in the hopes of finding a pretty little misses to wed." Dean barked out, his eyes growing a little bit more tense as he ran his hands down his horses velvety muzzle, the animal giving his palm a playful little nip.

Sam sighed, running his hands over his dark hair before slapping his fingers on the porch railing in distress. A few flakes of wood fell off to dust the sun baked ground.

"But Dean, everybody in town is talking - it's not right for a man to be all alone in the world! Hell, I'm your younger brother and I'm getting married before you! Dean, you're thirty-two years old! If you were a woman you'd be an old maid already!"

"Yeah? But I'd be a damn near smokin' old maid." Dean smirked out, his grin only making Sam's features turn into bitch face number 45 - one of Dean's least favorite of the bitch faces.

"Dean, what's going to happen when Jess and I move to California? You're going to be in that big old house with just yourself! Won't you get lonely?" His brother was relentless, his eyes almost pouting like a damn puppy. Dean had to look away - his brother was his ultimate weakness and the kid knew it.

"Damn it, Sammy. I'll be fine. I don't need some woman hanging over everything I do!" Dean insisted as he started to grow just a tad bit angry at why his brother would not just drop it. Dean didn't want to marry just for someone to fix his meals and lay his boots out by the door. He would marry someone because he was smitten with them, and nothing else. So far though, no one had caught his eye.

Oh sure there was the saloon - the Road House - that he frequented sometimes when he wasn't too busy to get a taste of the finer things in life, but his visits had been less and less. There just wasn't enough reason to blow his money on women with missing teeth, no matter how good a lay they were.

"Well, at least just go up to the town entrance to escort them in. You can at least do that, can't ya'?" Sam's face softened into a small smile as he gestured to the Sheriff star pinned on Deans leather vest. Obligated duty his ass.

Dean rolled his eyes, his sigh melding into the hot summer air as he jerked his hands away from Impala's pretty perked ears to start the task of untying her reins from their knot.

"Fine Sammy, but only because it's my job. See? I have something better to do than playing match-maker." Dean huffed with teasing bitterness as he finally got the knot picked and undone, feeling the familiar weight of the reins in his hands.

Sam only laughed, hand clapping on Deans shoulder, happy that he and his brother were on good terms once more.

"Sure, sure! Just make sure to keep an eye out for anything pretty in that wagon - I expect my brother to get hitched before I go to California or before I turn to dust!" Sam laughed as Dean grabbed the horn of the saddle and hoisted his leg over to sit himself comfortably on the big mare.

The coal black horse began to side step her feet, her long but stocky legs prancing back and forth, telling Dean she was wound up and ready to fly.

Dean petted the horse on her warm neck before he turned her around to face the opening of the town that was a few minutes away on horseback.

"Right, Sammy. If I see anything pretty in that wagon I'll be sure to take it home with me straight away." Dean laughed, his grin seeming contagious as it soon showed up on his brothers face.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smirked out before he squeezed the sides of his horse, the mare tossing her head up in glee before she leaped into a cloud of dust and then they were gone from sight, into the bustle of the street.

Well, any good so far? I hope so, because I had a blast writing this damn first chapter! Stay tuned for more, my pretty readers! If you have any questions about the slang included in the chapter I'd be happy to answer! However I'm sure just a quick google search would provide fruitful just the same. Or, if people are interested I could define them in the authors notes. PLEASE REVIEW!