Chapter 7

The following night, I'd just finished fastening the leather handcuffs around my brother's wrists when the doorbell rang.

He swore. "Who the hell is coming here this late? Fuck, if it's Jody, it's gotta be an emergency! No way she'd come over now otherwise."

"Shit! It might also be that hunter that Bobby said would be coming by. You've got to stay up here in case it's not Jody. I'll go see who it is and take care of it." I started to get up.

"Uh uh, I ain't letting you go by yourself if we dunno who's down there." He struggled to sit up.

"Dude, it's either Jody or another hunter. It's not like I'll be in danger from either."

"Walt and Roy were hunters too, remember?"

"And you put the fear of God into everyone afterwards, right? Besides, Bobby wouldn't let the guy come over while we're here if he was a threat. I'll be fine." I kissed him reassuringly. "You know you can't risk being seen right now—you're still having trouble controlling your appearance. But if it'll make you feel better, I'll go armed, and I'll be careful. Do you want me to take the cuffs off?"

"Nah. They're pretty easy to get outta if I need to." Dean gave them a couple quick tugs, making the headboard rattle a bit. "Just don't take too long. I'm gonna need more of your cock real soon!"

"Well, here. Let's keep you busy with this until I get back." I lubed up the butt plug and inserted it into his waiting hole, then placed the remote in his hand.

I got up and quickly got dressed as the doorbell rang again. Fortunately, we'd just showered after a long nap, so I looked and felt fairly refreshed. I'd been doing better since yesterday afternoon, now able to pace myself more with the help of the toys. I slid my Taurus and silver-plated bowie knife into my waistband before giving my lover a quick kiss and running downstairs.

I switched on the porch lights and opened the front door halfway. The man standing on the porch looked to be in his fifties, a couple inches shorter than I and with the kind of heavyset build that packed plenty of muscle beneath the fat. His dark grey hair was slicked back, and his pale blue eyes reminded me of a husky's. He had a thick scar across his left cheek, and his nose had been broken at least once in the past. He was dressed in typical hunter attire— faded flannel, dirty jeans, worn boots. He seemed vaguely familiar.

"Hey partner, is Bobby Singer home? The name's Silas Barnes. Brought some books for him, and he's supposed to have some stuff for me." He smiled amiably and held up a paper-wrapped parcel.

"Sorry, Bobby had to leave a couple days ago to help out Rufus Turner. But he told us to expect you. Before I let you in though, I've got to run the usual tests. Bobby's rules, you know."

"Hah! He's a dodgy ole fart, ain't he? Sure, kid, go ahead."

I first handed him the flask of salted holy water that Bobby always kept by the door. After he took a long swig with no reaction, I pulled out my knife and made a small cut below his elbow. That taken care of, I held the door the rest of the way open.

"Come on in, man. Just give me a minute to grab the package Bobby left for you. New IDs, right? I'm Sam, by the way."

"Sam . . . Wait, not little Sammy Winchester? Thought I recognized that black behemoth out front. Boy, you sure did grow up big! Last time I saw you, you were still such a little squirt," Silas said as he stepped inside.

"You probably don't remember me, huh? You must've been no more than twelve or thirteen when we met. It was in Deadwood, Oregon back in the summer of ninety-five. I was supposed to meet your daddy to get his help in taking care of a pack of skinwalkers, but he was late getting back from tracking down a crocotta, I think it was. So I got a room in the motel you were at and kept an eye on you boys 'til he got back maybe a week or so later."

"I knew you looked familiar! You used to give me candy from the vending machine, right? Dean made cracks about it 'cause you had that white van."

The other man laughed as he followed me into the kitchen. "Man, I ain't thought 'bout that beat-up ole thing in years! Peanut M&M's were your favorite, if I recall right. If I'da known you was here, I'da picked up a bag for ole time's sakes!

"Sorry 'bout getting here so late. Case I was just on was supposed to be a simple salt-'n-burn, 'cept it turned out the ole biddy was cremated. So I figured I'd torch the cursed object she's tied to instead. Problem was, her house shoulda been featured on one of them hoarder shows! Took me all night to find the damn thing, and by the time I was able to grab some shuteye and then a quick bite and hit the road, it was almost noon."

He took an approving sniff. "Something sure smells good in here! Say, you wouldn't happen to have any grub to spare, would ya? Been on the road most of the day, and I ain't had nothing to eat since I left. And to be honest, money's been kinda tight for a little while, so I don't exactly have enough to cover both food and gas right now."

I paused in the act of pulling the package of IDs out from the pile of Bobby's mail. I really needed to get this man out of the house and get back to my brother. But I couldn't help but sympathize—being low on funds was a common state for hunters, and there'd been more than a couple of occasions that we'd had to tighten our belts until the next hustle. Not to mention all the times Dean had gone hungry when we were kids and the money Dad had left us ran out. I sighed in resignation.

"Well, the last of the lasagna got eaten for lunch today. But there still should be beef stew left over from dinner. I guess I can fix some up for you." I pulled a large Tupperware from the fridge and popped it into the microwave.

"I sure appreciate this, Sam. So where's that brother of yours? Heard you two were usually joined at the hip. I remember him being just about the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Curious to see if he's grown up as well as you have." There was an almost covetous gleam in his eyes as he spoke.

"Dean's upstairs. He's come down with a bad case of the flu or something," I said casually. "It's really knocked him on his ass. I'll pass your regards on to him when he wakes up."

I filled a bowl with the heated stew and set it on the kitchen table. Not wanting to look like I was hovering impatiently, I opened up the parcel of books and started perusing the titles.

Silas sat down at the worn table and tucked into the stew with gusto. "Damn, this is good! Who do I need to thank for this fine meal?"

"Dean's the cook of the family," I said absently, flipping through a book on Mesopotamian rituals.

"Pretty and he can cook? I'd say the boy's wasted on this life if I hadn't heard what a damn good hunter he is. The both of you, actually. I'm sure your daddy would be real proud if he was still around. Sorry to hear 'bout him passing, by the way. The man was a real legend in the community, you know. Stubborn, stiff-necked sonofabitch though, eh?"

"Yeah, he wasn't the easiest to get along with, even if you were related to him. Listen, are you almost done? I don't mean to rush you, but I really should get back to my brother."

The older hunter pushed his chair back with a satisfied groan. "Boy, that sure hit the spot! Sam, I don't wanna keep on imposing, but d'ya think you can put me up for the night too? Like I said before, I'm in a bind cash-wise right about now."

"I don't think that's a good idea, man. Dean's pretty sick, and I'd hate it if you caught something too if you stuck around too long."

"I'll make sure to keep my distance—the flu's no joke! You'd really be doing me a solid if ya lemme stay here. If I hafta spend another night in the rusty piece of shit I'm currently driving, my back ain't ever gonna recover!"

I hesitated again. Having another hunter staying here overnight was asking for trouble, given Dean's condition. And there was something about how he looked when he talked about my brother that made me uneasy. But I still commiserated with the man, having never enjoyed the nights we had to bunk down in the Impala. I had to put faith in Bobby's judgement, that he wouldn't have someone dangerous come over. To be safe though, I wasn't going to put him up anywhere near Dean.

"I'd like to help you out, Silas, but the other guest room is full of boxes of books and artifacts and shit. And I don't feel comfortable putting you in Bobby's bed," I told him.

"I'd be fine crashing down here on the couch or something," he assured me. "Anything's better than the backseat of that deathtrap!"

"Well, the couch in Bobby's living room is probably almost as bad. But I'm pretty sure he's got an air mattress and sleeping bag with his camping stuff in the attic. It might take me a while to find it though. He's got everything but the Zapruder film up there!"

"That's fine, kid. I'll just watch something on the boob tube 'til you're back. I'm real grateful for the hospitality!" Silas ambled into the living room.

I put the dishes in the sink to deal with later and went upstairs. On my way to the attic, I stuck my head in our room to check on my brother. He raised his head off the pillow and glared at me. I could barely make out the buzzing of the plug, though the cum drying on his stomach attested that he'd used it to get off at least once.

"What the fuck is taking so long?" he demanded.

"Sorry, Dee! I couldn't say no when this guy needed something to eat, and now he's asking to stay the night. He's in a tight spot right now and can't afford dinner or a motel."

Dean looked at me like I'd lost my marbles. "Sam, are you stupid or something? You really think having a hunter stay over right fucking now is a good idea?"

"Come on, man, I can't simply turn him away! We've all been in a similar position before. Besides, he'll be staying downstairs, so he won't get a chance to see anything suspicious. We'll just have to keep things quiet tonight, and I'll make sure he's out the door the first thing tomorrow morning," I promised. "I'm heading up to the attic to find Bobby's inflatable mattress and sleeping bag. You might want to get out of the cuffs though, 'cause I'll probably be up there for a while."

"You don't hafta be such a fucking Boy Scout all the goddamn time! You were just supposed to exchange packages with this dude, not open up a damn B&B for him," he griped. He dropped his head back with a sigh. "Fine, just hurry the hell up!"

I rummaged through several decades of dust and clutter for what seemed like forever but was probably less than half an hour. I eventually found where the camping gear was stashed, though I frequently wished I'd brought a flamethrower to fight off the army of creepy-crawlies determined to defend their territory in the process. Loaded down with the air mattress, sleeping bag, and a bicycle pump, I'd just started down the attic stairs when I heard a sharp cry of pain from down the hall.

I dropped everything and bolted to our room. To my shock, the door wouldn't open. As I tried to rattle the knob, I could make out a voice speaking through the paneled wood.

"—think I like you even better like this, just like one of those slutty hentai cat-girls. And I won't hafta fucking pay for it this time, will I? Come on, open up! You know you want it, you damn whore! Just like you wanted it fifteen years ago." The voice belonged to Silas Barnes.

I kicked the door below the knob several times until the wood splintered around the lock. I drew my gun, flipped the safety off, and shouldered the door open. The sight before me froze me momentarily in horror.

Barnes was on top of my brother, one hand wrapped around his throat, the other on the hilt of an oversized bowie knife buried in his shoulder. The blade was fortunately not near the brachial artery but did appear to be silver, which meant the wound had to be excruciatingly painful. The older man had one of Dean's hands pinned under one knee and was furiously using the other knee to attempt to pry the younger hunter's legs open. Barnes' nose was bleeding profusely, and he had bloody claw marks on his neck and arms.

Dean's other wrist was still cuffed to the headboard. The skin of his torso and thighs was littered with bruises, scratches, and small cuts. One eye was swelling closed, and his lips were bleeding as they drew back over his sharp teeth. He snarled and cursed wrathfully as he tried to buck the other man off.

My hesitation was just long enough for Barnes to react first. He yanked the knife out of my brother's shoulder, ignoring his yowl of pain, and held it to his throat, causing Dean to cease struggling. Barnes grinned at me sadistically, the pleasant good-ole-boy demeanor gone.

"Finally decided to join the party, Sam? Well, if you don't want these here festivities to come to a tragic end, you'll drop that gun and kick it to me. Because I promise you, boy, that you ain't fast enough to shoot me 'fore I slit your brother's throat. Or should I say lover's?" he sneered.

"I knew you was lying 'bout how sick he really was when you said he'd made that deliciously complex stew. So I decided to pay him a visit while you was otherwise occupied, seeing as how me and him together go way back. Imagine my surprise to discover that the famous Dean Winchester is a dirty little shifter! And spreading his slutty legs for his baby brother! I wonder, does that mean you're a shapeshifter too, Sammy, on top of being a nasty brother-fucker?"

"You leave him alone, cocksucker!" Dean rasped around the hand still on his throat. "I'm the only damn freak here! He's more human than you are, since you're a fucking disgrace to the whole fucking race."

"What do you think's going to happen, Barnes?" I demanded. "You can't hope to subdue us both!"

Barnes laughed mockingly. "In case you ain't noticed, kid, I already got big brother subdued. And unless you wanna see me cutting into his pretty skin with my shiny silver knife, you'll kick that fucking gun over right now!" To emphasize his warning, he drew a tiny cut on one side of Dean's neck.

I swore bitterly but complied. I couldn't guarantee an immediate kill shot, and I knew the other man would make good on his threat if I didn't take him down with the first bullet. I still had my knife, and my hands if needs be, so I just had to wait for the right opportunity.

This was all my fault! If I'd followed my instincts and not let Barnes stay, or if I'd not left my brother alone, unaware and unprotected in the presence of an unknown hunter, this wouldn't be happening. Or if I hadn't stopped like a damn rookie when the door opened, this would already be over. If anything worse happened to Dean tonight, I would never forgive myself.

Barnes continued, "Good boy! So here's how this is gonna go down. I'm gonna reach into my pocket and pull out a pair of cuffs—real handcuffs, not the fun little toys Dean has on—and you're gonna put 'em on. Then you'll sit tight and watch me and your feisty tramp of a brother enjoy each other. You know he's just panting for me, wanting to take any dick he can, like the filthy animal he really is, right?

"Then I'm gonna be on my way, and I think I'll be taking him with me. Dean here was the finest piece of ass I've ever had, based on all the tastes I got that week fifteen years ago, and I'm figuring he's only improved with experience. If he pleases me enough, I'm just gonna knock you out when we go. And if you behave yourself, I won't let everyone know that he's a disgusting little monster and a whore, and that you Winchesters like to keep it in the family, as they say. But if you try to come after me, I'll start mailing pieces to you here. Wonder if they'll still grow back if I cut 'em off with silver?"

"You're seriously fucking delusional if you think I want you anywhere near me now, assclown! And I never wanted you back then!" Dean spat. "I was sixteen fucking years old, we were outta money, and I was too young to get a job or get into a pool hall! So I sold myself to strange dicks 'cause I had to, to feed Sammy and keep a roof over our heads, and that's it! You were a goddamn hunter and knew Dad, but instead of helping us, you fucking took advantage of the situation!"

"All this is jogging my memory. You left pretty abruptly after Dad showed up. He found out what you did, didn't he? I remember his hands being bloody after he talked to you. Was Dad the one who broke your nose or gave you that scar on your cheek before you ran with your tail between your legs? What—you could be the big man with a teenager who couldn't say no, but couldn't hack it against someone your own size who could fight back?" I taunted, hoping to keep him unsettled.

My brother picked up his side of the game of verbal tag. "How many other kids have you perved on? You like taking advantage of the small or the helpless? Maybe he can't get it up any other way, huh, Sam? You know, you better hope you never get arrested, Silas, 'cause do you know what they do to child molesters in the big house? They gonna make you squeal like a pig, boy!"

"You shut your mouth, cunt!" Barnes reared back to punch Dean, and he let the knife slip a few inches away from my brother's throat.

Dean took immediate advantage of the lapse and sank his fangs deep into the other man's wrist, causing it to spasm open. The moment the blade hit the bed, I lunged forward, yanked Barnes back by the collar, and threw him hard against the wall by the door. As I turned to face him, I heard the sound of Velcro tearing and knew that my brother had finished freeing himself. As much as I wanted to go to him right away, I had to trust that he could take care of himself until I finished dealing with the other hunter.

I cautiously approached where Barnes was collapsed on the floor and managed to leap back in time when he lashed a foot out. He staggered to his feet and threw a wild swing, which I ducked. He grunted as I jabbed him in the gut, and I blocked the uppercut he shot in return. We exchanged several blows, until a lucky punch to the jaw staggered me back. He started to reach behind him towards the back of his waistband but froze as a click came from behind us.

"Drop it, douchebag! In case you've never heard, I'm a damn good shot, and I'll have no problem plugging you between your ugly fucking eyes if you try to aim that thing at Sam. So you've gotta ask yourself, 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?" my brother demanded.

When I threw a glance over my shoulder, Dean was sitting up on the bed, my pistol aimed squarely at the older man. His grip was rock-steady despite being beaten all to hell, the wound on his shoulder still leaking blood. I grinned, proud that this badass was my big brother, as I drew my knife.

Barnes moved slowly as if he was about to withdraw his hand, then suddenly whipped it around and hurled his gun at Dean. He used the distraction to charge me with a roar, grabbing at the handle of my knife. I voided and seized his forearm with one hand as he went by, spinning him around and pulling him against me. I twisted his arm behind his back, binding it tightly enough to force him up on his toes to prevent a dislocated shoulder. My other hand pressed the bowie knife to his side.

I didn't hesitate. This man had injured and tried to force himself on the most important person in my life. This man had taken repeated advantage of Dean as a teen, and I doubted that was his first or only time hurting a child. And this man would make my brother a hunted pariah if he was allowed to reveal the truth to the wrong people. I drove the blade between his ribs, up under his sternum, and straight into his heart.

As I let the body fall, I heard Dean behind me say, "Sam, what have you done?"