None Goes His Way Alone
By Coffeemaniac
Not Slash
A/N: Set in Season 1. After Shadow but before Devil's Trap.
"There is a destiny that makes us brothers: None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own." (Edwin Markham)
The Lure
The next evening, Jacob Moore gave his household staff the night off. He arranged to have an Italian meal catered by a local restaurant. He convinced Justine to take a long weekend in San Francisco. He made certain that the landscaping staff was done for the day and off the property.
Spaghetti, tossed salad, garlic bread and cheesecake were assembled in the kitchen, waiting to feed the love of Jessica's life, and possibly her murderer. Jacob dreaded the moment of sitting down at a table and sharing a meal with Sam Winchester. He wasn't sure he could get through it without shooting him on the spot. Not that he was armed or preparing for that to happen, but he couldn't help the thought as it passed through him.
He also dreaded handing over the few photos of Jessica and Sam that she had kept in her bedroom, hated to give him back the cheap ring that was engraved with Sam's name on the inside of the band. Just allowing Sam's hands to touch things that were precious to Jessica made him feel nauseous.
At ten minutes until seven, Jacob's phone rang. Sam Winchester was near the house. He expected to arrive by seven. Jacob disconnected the call and scrolled to Jessica's name. He exhaled anxiety as he closed the phone.
Almost exactly ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jacob took a moment to look in the oversized mirror hanging at the base of the winding staircase. He reminded himself that he was used to dealing with unpleasantness, used to negotiating with individuals much tougher and with more savvy than Sam Winchester. He gave himself a feral smile then schooled his expression.
When he opened the massive door, Sam had his finger hovering over the doorbell, apparently preparing to ring again.
"Mr. Moore," Sam said, changing the direction of his limb to shake Jacob's hand.
Jacob gave him a firm greeting then invited him in. He had forgotten how young the boy was.
"Is Mrs. Moore here?" Sam asked.
Jacob smiled wryly to himself. Sam used to call them by their first names. At Jessica's funeral, he reverted to the formal surname.
"She's in San Francisco for the weekend. In fact, she dismissed the entire staff for the night. I'm afraid we'll have to rough it with take out."
"That's not necessary. I can grab something later at the hotel."
Jacob considered canceling the meal. Sam clearly wanted to leave and Jacob dreaded sitting down with him, but he didn't do it. Michael Battle was waiting someplace and, according to the mercenary, timing was important.
"Nonsense. Justine would never forgive me if I didn't take care of you. May I get you something to drink? I have beer."
Sam smiled. Jacob thought he saw amusement in his eyes as if he were laughing at him.
"A beer would be great. Thank you."
"We'll use the living room for now," Jacob said then led Sam through the foyer and into the casual room where Justine liked to host her guests. Sam moved along behind him as if he needed to be shown but Jacob knew full well that Sam had spent enough time there to navigate the many rooms easily.
When they reached the living room, Jacob motioned towards the deep green easy chair. "Please sit down. I'll be back momentarily and you can tell me about this road trip with your brother."
Jacob waited until Sam settled before making his way into the kitchen. The caterer had set the small dinner up so that the hot food sat atop warmers while the salad bowl was iced. The meal smelled delicious but the aroma turned Jacob's stomach.
He lingered longer than necessary in the kitchen needing an extra moment before retrieving the beer, a domestic brand, from the refrigerator. He considered grabbing the whole six pack and just plopping it down in front of Sam. But, he didn't do that. It would send out a flag that all was not right and Jacob needed to keep Sam's trust long enough for Battle to close the deal.
Returning to the living room, he found Sam standing near the brick fireplace and holding a heavy frame. Jacob didn't need to see the front to know that it housed a photograph of Jessica at her high school graduation. Sam looked startled when Jacob cleared his throat.
"I remember this picture," Sam said. "She didn't like her hair that short."
"Yes. She complained endlessly about having it displayed but her mother loves it."
Sam replaced the photo on the mantle. Jacob handed him the beer and they both sat down. An awkward silence followed as Jacob felt his rage ignite. How dare Jessica's killer touch her picture? How dare he reminisce about her?
"I'm sorry I missed Justine, uh, Mrs. Moore," Sam self-corrected and Jacob wondered why he bothered.
"Talking about her daughter is upsetting. She was sorry to miss seeing you though."
Another silence followed. Sam drank his beer and looked at the mantle, studying the displayed pictures as if they were the only thing of importance.
"So, you and your brother," Jacob started. "You're still traveling?"
Sam exhaled deliberately. "Yeah, uh, I needed a break."
"And your brother was willing to just drop his life to go with you?"
"Well, it's not really like that. He travels pretty much all the time anyway. I'm mostly tagging along with him."
"Where have you been since…" Jacob trailed off. He didn't want to talk about the fire or Jessica's death.
Sam seemed to understand because he answered as if it had been a complete question. "All over, I guess. We were on the east coast just recently and then we started heading this way. It was just lucky we were so close when you called. We could just as easily been in New Jersey or someplace."
Jacob nodded, meeting Sam's eyes, interested in how the boy spent his time. What did a person do after murdering someone who loved them?
"Have you seen your father?" Jacob asked.
Sam pulled back physically at the question, his eyes growing wide for just a moment.
"Just briefly a couple of weeks ago. He can be difficult to reach sometimes."
Jacob stared at the boy sitting across from him, comfortably drinking beer and remembered when Sam sat on the couch with Jessica curled up next to him. Jacob remembered how she had taken the beer out of his hand and drank some of it. It had been scarily intimate. Sam had put his hand on her thigh and left it there. There was nothing inappropriate in his actions but Jacob recalled being shocked. Then he had looked at his daughter as she looked at Sam. The love, the near adoration in her eyes had frightened Jacob to his core.
"Let's keep things casual, shall we?" Jacob said. "We'll eat in the kitchen."
"Sure. Sounds good," Sam said, standing up as Jacob stood.
As they entered the kitchen, Jacob glanced at the small bag sitting on the chair in the corner. Justine had placed three photographs, the ring and a Stanford t-shirt inside. The red and gray shirt was enormous and clearly did not belong to Jessica.
"Grab a plate from the counter there and fill up. Do you need another beer?" Jacob asked.
"Sure, thanks," Sam said as he lifted a glass dinner plate. He took a helping of spaghetti and covered it in sauce. Given his size, Jacob thought he took a small portion. Sam took some salad as well but didn't use the salad bowls. He tucked the spinach mixed with quail eggs, swiss cheese and ham next to the pasta.
Sam took a chair that put his back to the wall and waited while Jacob obtained his own meal. Jacob had asked Jessica about Sam's need to sit facing doors and open spaces. He had noticed it after they visited a couple of restaurants during their holiday stays at the house. Jessica explained that Sam's father had been a combat Marine and had raised both of his sons to be wary of their surroundings.
Once Jacob joined him, Sam dug into the meal with an appropriate amount of appreciation. Jacob only picked at his, giving just the impression of eating. He didn't think his stomach could take much given his level of tension.
When he retrieved Sam's second beer, Jacob took one also and poured the amber liquid into a chilled glass. He offered Sam a glass but the boy declined. Jacob sat across from him and sipped the liquor.
The long silence at the table was deafening.
"The house and grounds look good," Sam commented, obviously uncomfortable with the lack of conversation.
"Thank you. We try to keep everything up to par."
Sam shook his head, clearly hearing the sardonic tone. "I'm sorry. I'm not much good at small talk."
"Don't worry about it. I invited you here. As the host, it's my job to entertain."
Sam gave him a weak smile.
"How long will you be in town?" Jacob asked.
"We'll probably leave tomorrow. We were on our way to Colorado when you called. Dean, my brother, he's anxious to get back up there."
"Why is that?"
"Oh, uh, we have a job. It's something he found and we both want to get started."
"What kind of work?"
Sam put his fork down and scratched his neck before answering. "Pest control."
Jacob frowned. That didn't sound plausible.
"You're driving to Colorado to be exterminators?" He pressed.
Sam nodded. "Sort of. It's a small town and they're looking for help so it works out for us."
"Hmm."
Sam pushed his plate away and finished his beer.
"You know," he started, his voice faltering for a moment. "I miss her all the time."
Jacob set his glass down carefully because he wanted to slam it instead. He stood up knowing it was too abrupt, knowing he was giving away his true feelings.
"I can't talk about this," Jacob said. "It's too soon."
"I'm sorry."
"Yes, well, are you finished eating?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then let's get on with this."
"Mr. Moore, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"No, Sam. I understand. Just…this isn't the time."
Jacob took the small, black bag off the chair. He handed it to Sam quickly thinking it was like ripping off a band-aid.
"There are some photos. A trinket, a ring, I guess. There's a shirt that likely belongs to you. Justine wanted you to have these things."
Sam swallowed visibly as he pushed away from the table. He looked inside the bag but didn't remove anything. Looking back up, Jacob was horrified to see his eyes were glassy with tears.
"Don't do that," Jacob ordered.
The boy cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Thank you for this. Please thank Mrs. Moore for me."
Sam stood up, clutching the ends of the bag. Clearing his throat again, he said, "Please call me if either of you need anything."
Awkwardly moving backward towards the doorway, Sam made his way out of the kitchen. Jacob waited a few heartbeats before following. He stopped, startled when Sam was standing there.
"Do you blame me?" he asked with a steadiness in contrast to his obvious anxiety.
"Should I?" Jacob asked, not worrying anymore about revealing his plan.
Sam ducked his head for a moment. When he lifted his chin and met Jacob's eyes, he said, "Probably."
"Get out," Jacob said. His voice sounded soft to his own ears. "Don't come back."
Sam nodded with just the slightest motion before he turned around and walked out of the house. Jacob watched until the door closed behind him. Reaching into his pants pocket he removed his cell phone and pressed the speed dial number. When Battle answered, Jacob told him that Sam had left the house.
"I see him, sir," Battle responded. "He's walking towards the street and talking on his cell phone. He was dropped off earlier so I would imagine that he's calling his brother."
"When will I hear from you again?"
"When I have something to tell you, sir. Good night."
Battle ended the call. Jacob glanced towards the mantle, seeing Jessica's beautiful face staring back at him, her body shrouded by her graduation gown. He wondered if she was watching him, applauding him for finally avenging her death. He imagined that she was.
The Trap
Michael Battle remained beside the elderly oak tree that marked the start of Moore's property. With no light overhead, the thickness of the tree trunk and a row of bushes to hide him, Battle watched Sam Winchester without any fear of discovery.
The younger man slid his phone back into his pocket and headed for the street. He didn't look around as he walked. With slumped shoulders and bowed head, he looked like a picture of despair and Battle smiled. A depressed subject was easier to break down.
Battle thumbed his radio twice, the signal arranged between him and his men to verify that they had the right man in sight. No one moved in yet. They waited for the conspicuous Impala. With a rumbling engine and loud music pouring from the interior, it arrived, piloted by Sam's shorter and fair haired brother.
Battle thumbed his radio again. This time the three strokes sending static over the lines brought his men from two sides. Sam noticed them first.
"Dean," he said, alerting his sibling.
To his credit, the older Winchester recognized the danger just from that one word. He opened his door and slid out with a handgun ready. Sam spun towards the threat to his right while Dean spun towards the left.
Battle's men attacked. Eric and Scott Balin descended on Sam using their well-honed skills. Sam blocked their blows effectively for the first few moments. He dropped Scott with a sharp kick then pivoted towards Eric. He used his impressive reach to keep Eric from landing any punches. With a loud curse, Scott withdrew a stun gun from his belt and rammed it forcefully into Sam's leg. An electrical arc shined out from Sam's thigh and he yelled out as he lost coordination. Once he went down to one knee, Eric punched him in the cheek and Sam fell on to the pavement. The Balin brothers worked quickly to get him on to his stomach and bound his hands with plastic ties.
Dean Winchester contended with three more men and surprisingly managed to take two of them to the ground before Battle stepped in. Even with his considerable size and skill, it still took the four of them to wrestle the older brother down. Battle grabbed a syringe from his pocket and jammed it into Dean's neck as soon as the man landed on his stomach. Dean yelled out in impotent rage but soon succumbed to its effects. They bound his hands in the same way as Sam's.
Eric Balin retrieved the van from a parking lot located at the end of the street. He pulled up and they all worked together to dump the Winchester brothers into the back. Both men were heavy. At well over six feet, the younger one took three of them to lift and move.
After they were lying in the back, heads near the front, feet near the doors, Eric and Scott searched them while Battle looked on. Cade Winslow and Joe Romero sat in the front of the van waiting for their signal to move. Charlie Rice had slid into the Impala.
Eric found a couple of knives and two guns tucked into various holsters and pockets located on Dean Winchester. Scott found a hunting knife in Sam's boot and a switchblade in his pocket but no guns. Battle guessed that the younger man wouldn't want to bring too much hardware to dinner with his dead girlfriend's father.
Once they had been thoroughly searched and relieved of anything that could kill or maim, the Balin brothers also confiscated their cell phones. Battle told them to take their belts and boots as well.
Sam started to regain consciousness just as they finished taking off his belt. The boots were still in place. Battle took another syringe and injected Sam in the neck. Sam jerked forward then fell back, passing out almost immediately.
"All right, boys, we've accomplished the first step," Battle said.