SUMMARY: Objects of great supernatural existence and design can seem to have a mind of their own. The Colt is no different. It has a consciousness that extends no only to the gun itself but each individual bullet. Even into the shell casings left after a shot taken has some kind of existence. The Colt and final bullet is gone, but Dean clings almost desperately to the shell left over from his single shot that killed the Demon's son. John Winchester said that the Colt was made for a Hunter, like them but on horse back. Could the little life left in the shell casing send Dean and Sam into its place of origin to meet a throwback of those early days of Hunters, where the Moon and the Sun float in the sky side by side, all animals have a human voice and the first thing that Dean lays eyes on is a young woman with eyes the color of fresh blood and looks incredibly familiar.
DISCLAIMER: All characters and plot lines of "Supernatural" belong to their respective creators. Tuscarora and other major land features are existing parts of Nevada and belong to themselves while all characters and lay outs of such places and so on are completely fabricated by yours truly. Several different "spirits" and "gods" are based on Native American legend and creational stories, though they are also completely fictional.
Like Us, But On Horse Back
"Not necessity, not desire - no, the love of power is the demon of men. Let them have everything - health, food, a place to live, entertainment - they are and remain unhappy and low-spirited: for the demon waits and waits and will be satisfied."
-
Chapter Eleven: What Are You About?
" 'I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir,' said Alice, 'because I'm not myself, you see.'
'I don't see, ' said the Catipillar. "
-Lewis Carroll - Alice in Wonderland
…
Sam tried to suck in his stomach and throat, the unforgiving blade and knee only followed him. He didn't dare try and push her away, part of it was self-preservation. The other factor was his unshakeable belief that this was in fact Jessica.
His Jessica.
And every sliver of pain he'd felt at her loss and memory threatened to consume and destroy him if he pushed the blonde woman away. He couldn't speak, could barely breathe and excruciating pain was imploding on his skin and in his ribs; making black dots dance on the edges of his vision.
Why can't I call her Jessica, was the only thought that crossed his mind.
…
"What was that?" Celia asked, perked like a terrier that smelled a rat.
"What are you talking about?" Dean muttered, his shaking having returned without something to keep his hands busy. He was leaning on the counter for support.
"Ya hear somthin'?" She asked, looking at Dean with sharp eyes. He only shook his head. Celia huffed slightly, on the edge of a grunt.
"I did." She started for the front door and Dean wobbly followed on her heels.
…
The blonde bared her teeth like a wolf down on Sam and searched his face for any answer to who he was. Her eyes flashed to the beaver totem at his throat. She hissed, grinding her teeth.
"Beaver." She snapped and grabbed the totem in her free and held it dangerously in front of Sam's face, leaning her heavy weight on his chest and collar bone, threatening to shatter the fragile bones below his skin. The knife edge scraped up and across the thin layer of flesh between the out side world and the life blood jugular vein in his throat.
"Where the hell ya get this, boy?!" She spat in his face.
Sam swallowed and flinched as the blade's serrated teeth bit briefly in to his skin. The blonde snarled at his silence and swiftly wrapped her hand around the leather thong and made to tear it from his throat.
The woman yelped and pitched over, crying out like a stepped on dog.
Celia yanked hard on the blonde's ear and a clump of wheat gold hair.
"Jezebel Jessica Rosemary Cree get the hell offa that boy!" Celia snarled.
"OW! Cousin Red! Leggo! My ear!" Jezebel Jessica Rosemary Cree yelped like a pained animal, her knee left Sam's gut; the blade Sam's throat and her hand left the beaver totem still tied around his throat. She scrambled as she was dragged across the porch planks. Sam pushed himself up; coughing thickly his hand flew to the beaver totem, making sure it was secure. But his biggest instinct was to get Celia away from the Jessica doppelganger.
"Sam!" Dean said sharply for the fifth time, the younger brother jumped as if he had been struck and looked around at Dean. "Sam are you alright?"
Sam only nodded and watched Celia haul Jezebel up to her feet,
"Put that knife away girl!"
"Alright, just leggo my ear! Please!" The woman whimpered and tried to keep her ear close to Celia's hand.
"Put it away first." Celia snarled.
With and exaggerated grunt and mutter Jezebel slipped the hunting knife back into the sheath on her hip.
"Good girl, alright Jesse, apologize." Celia let go of her ear and the blonde jumped back a step, rubbing the side of her head and snarling under her voice.
"Why! He's tresspassin'!"
"Jezebel! Ya honestly think that somebody walkin' around on my property, answerin' my door ain't here with my permission?" Celia barked. Jezebel flinched and glanced at Sam and Dean.
"No."
"No." Celia repeated.
Jezebel sighed loudly and licked the roof of her mouth. She was obviously having a hard time swallowing her pride. She glared at Celia then with a huff stomped back over to stand above Sam.
"Sorry." She growled quickly and stood waiting. Sam looked her up and down.
"It's okay." He muttered stiffly, "You were only doing what you thought was right."
"See! Even he agrees!" Jezebel barked rounding on Celia. The older woman sighed and rubbed a hand across her face.
"Sam, Dean this is my youngest cousin, Jezebel. Jesse this is Sam and Dean Wilson, the ones all those rumors are about." Celia sighed tiredly.
"Really?" Jezebel asked looking down at the boys, "From what they're sayin' ya'd expect some kind of demi-god or somethin'."
Celia growled and changed the subject in a hurry. "What are ya doin' here?"
"I can to find out what happened with the homwrecker." Jezebel sighed.
"She's in one of the round pens waitin' judgment, there's talk of tryin' to gentle her." Celia told the younger woman who was casting glances at Sam every now and then. The younger brother, now on his feet was staring at her unwaveringly.
"Are ya insane, Red? That pony's lost her mind." Jezebel snorted.
Celia only shrugged and narrowed her eyes as Jezebel muttered under her breath.
"Jesse what the hell has gotten a bee in yer bonnet, huh? Yer outta character jumpin' on people and being snarky." Celia snapped sharply.
Jezebel looked a little stricken and sort of collapsed in on herself a little.
Celia stiffened, "This is about yer daddy, isn't it?"
Jezebel swallowed thickly and licked her lips, "They got the chopper to take him to the big hospital in Elko. He took a bad turn." Jezebel whispered sadly. Sam had the irresistible urge to wrap his arms around her and hold this Jessica look alike.
Celia looked a little paler at this new information. "Jess honey, yer daddy's a strong man. Kurt'll be fine, he just needs a little help and bein' the kind of man that he is he just don't like takin' that help. He's gotta be just pissed 'bout it." Celia joked gently trying to ease the tension in Jezebel's shoulders.
Jezebel nodded and rubbed the heel of her palm over her eyes. She sniffed then turned defensive.
"What are ya starin' at me for!" She snapped at Sam, making the much taller man jump.
Sam swallowed dryly and licked his lips, "Sorry, you just remind me of someone."
"I always remind somebody of someone, who is she?" Jezebel sniffed.
"She died, her name was Jessica." Sam said with some pain in his voice. Jezebel softened and Celia and Dean both tensed up at the mention of the very painful subject.
"Sorry 'bout yer friend." Jezebel sighed, Sam nodded quietly. "Momma went to go be with Daddy. I supposed to be goin' in soon, too."
Celia sighed, the worry over her uncle Kurt's youngest was stronger than her initial worry about her uncle Kurt.
"Sure, honey. Come on in and have somethin' strong to drink." Celia said, patting the younger woman's shoulder and steering her towards the door.
"Thanks Cousin Red." Jezebel let herself be pushed into the house and out of sight.
Dean hesitated, rubbing his hand across her face mouth and chin.
"Sam-"
"She looks just like Jessica."
"I know."
"I mean scary like her! It's like a photograph!"
"Sam, calm down. I know." Dean soothed and paced a short stiff circle before he had to stop and settle his stomach and spinning head.
"What the hell is going on here!?" Sam snarled, he was practically tearing his hair out. "This place is insane! WHO THE HELL PUT YOU UP TO THIS!" Sam screamed to the heavens and Dean looked ready to punch him in the face. Somewhere in the basin of the blue rock mountains a wolf lifted her head and cocked her ears, listening to the notes ringing on the wind.
"Sam! Shut up!" He barked, casting a terrified look towards the screen door.
…
"What was that?" Jezebel asked with a cocked head looking at Celia; sipping the glass of whisky the red eyed woman had poured for her.
"Sam's havin' an epiphany, I figure." Celia said casually.
"Hmm?" Jezebel asked with raised eyebrows. "'Bout what?"
Celia cocked and eyebrow and sipped at her own whisky.
"Red?" Jezebel asked at the glazed look in Red's eye.
"That the desert don't forget what ya try too…" Celia sighed and looked out of the window at the scrub brush and red clay earth of Nevada.
…
"Sam you have to calm down now, alright?" Dean coached encouragingly. Sam panted and nodding almost spasmodically scrubbed at his face with his hands. The younger brother was pacing nervous circles around his older brother; wringing his hands and muttering under his breathe.
"Sam…Sam…SAM!" Dean snapped in a harsh whisper. Sam jerked and looked at him as he continued to circle like a vulture.
"Sam, you're making me sick, please…you've gotta stop." Dean bit back a groan and rubbed a hand carefully over the still raised welts of Valentine's claws and his clenching abdomen muscles. He was starting to pale and feel dizziness strike him again. Sam hesitated and swallowed dryly, the idea that he was inadvertently hurting his brother stopped him dead.
"Sorry Dean." Sam instantly turned mother hen and gripped Dean at the elbow to try and ease him down onto the porch swing. Dean yanked out of his grip and wobbled dangerously but shook his head making it clear that he wouldn't survive sitting down and having to move again.
"I'm alright." Dean rasped.
"I'm freaking the fuck out, Dean!" Sam growled hoarsely. "What ever the fuck is going on here I want it to stop! This is fucking Twilight Zone!"
Dean swallowed, he could tell Sam was on the verge of a break down when he started referring to the Twilight Zone and saying 'fuck' a lot. He needed to take drastic measures.
"Sam she's not Jessica." He said as calmly and clearly. Sam jerked and grunted, he started pacing again.
"Sam. She's not Jessica."
"I know!" Sam snapped.
"I don't think you do. She's not Jessica." Dean repeated, cold, almost cruel.
"Dean-"
"Sam. She's. Not. Jessica."
Sam stopped pacing and ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and made no noise, panting and swallowing thickly the young brother's chest gave a sickening, shallow heave and a gut wrenching sob. Single, muffed and gone in a bare second. Dean stood back, he had learned early to let Sam take care of himself.
Sam clenched his hands into fists under his chin, tapping his knuckles against his throat and heaving tiredly stared out across rolling scrub grasses and desert.
"I know." He rasped, looking two or three shades paler than normal. "I know."
Dean reached out a shaking hand and laid it comfortingly on Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently. Dean started to steer Sam in the pressure on his shoulder increased as Dean needed the extra support to get inside and passed the door. Sam smiled weakly at Dean and threw his shoulders back as they passed back into the house with their hackles raised and trying to be ready for anything. They honestly didn't expect the red-eyed Celia and the Jessica look-alike sitting silently at the battered wooden table with a couple of beers and whiskey shot between them.
"How old are you?" Sam said sharply. He'd been something of a hall monitor at Stanford his freshman year, barking at underage friends drinking and bartenders who didn't give a rat's ass so long as they paid cash. Jessica had certainly loosened him up in his Sophomore year. The sharp question had even startled Sam.
Celia and Jezebel looked at Sam like he'd asked their weights.
"How old are ya?" Jezebel snarked back and Celia rolled her eyes.
"Old enough Sam." Celia sighed and settled back in her chair, throwing back a shot of whisky and her face cringing as the alcohol bit at her. Dean smiled and reached for an unopened bottle of beer only to have it snatched sharply from under his grip.
"He-"
"Dean, ya are still sufferin' heat stroke, prove yerself beyond being a damn fool and refrain from drinkin' a diuretic when ya can barely keep water down." Celia scolded with a sniff.
"I what?" Dean muttered, still eyeing the beer.
"Alcohol is a diuretic, it dehydrates yer systems." Jezebel sighed and spun her beer bottle around on the wooden table top and sighing quietly. She rose and tossed her bottle into the trash can. "Thanks for the drink, Red. I gotta get things in order then I'm headin' in to Elko."
"Alright, girl." Celia rose and followed Jezebel out of the kitchen, through the house and hall and out on the porch. Sam jogged dutifully after but Dean settled himself to grab the half finished beer Red herself had been nursing and drained it in a single draw.
Celia patted Jezebel's shoulder and waved as the young blonde trudged down the steps and across the yard. Sam took a deep breath then rushed after her.
"Jezebel!" Sam almost choked on her name, his tongue wanted to say Jessica. Celia stood back and pretended that her hearing wasn't an easy match for a rat terrier's. The blonde stopped and turned back to watch Sam trot over to her.
"It's Jesse." Jezebel corrected, "I apologized for jumpin' ya Sam, what ya want an apology for lookin' like her dead girlfriend." The callous sarcasm embittered Sam down to his core and he bit back a vicious response.
"I know. I wanted to say I hope your dad feels better. My dad got sick once too."
Celia raised an eyebrow and watched carefully. Her sharp ears catching the smallest sounds, she could hear them breathing.
Jezebel softened and swallowed thickly, "Thanks."
"I'm Sam." Sam held out his hand and Jezebel took it and shook his hand once before letting go.
"I know, I'm Jesse."
Sam managed a small smile in return. "I know, nice meeting you."
"See ya 'round Sam." Jezebel said with a small wave and she climbed the pipe gate fence, dropped nimbly down on the other side and started away.
"Oh Sam," She twisted and called over her shoulder, "When ya start schoolin' that homewrecker it takes a smooth hand and a hard bit."
"Um..alright…how did-"
"Cousin Red told me." Jezebel sniffed and waved a final time. Sam watched her back for a while before turning and trotting up the steps and Red.
"What was that 'bout now?" Celia asked. Sam shrugged, keeping it to himself. She watched his back disappear into the house and leaned heavily on the porch railing. She sighed and said a prayer under her breath.
She prayed for her Uncle Kurt stop his trek down the Red Road.
She prayed for Cousin Jesse to be strong enough to hold herself together and probably her mother, too.
She prayed for the Coyote to pass Dean by.
She prayed for the wolves to forget where Sam was and stop singing to him.
And she prayed for her own sanity.
With a gut wrenching sigh she turned and followed Sam's path into the house and towards the kitchen.
"DEAN WILSON WHAT DID I SAY 'BOUT YA DRINKIN' DIURECTICS WHILE YER IN A STATE!?!"
Dean flinched as if he'd been struck and quickly dropped the second beer he'd helped himself to. Sam stared at the small woman in shock and tried to hold back from sniggering at his brother's misfortune.
…
Celia sighed, washing dishes by hand and scrubbing the remains to flow down the drain and out of sight.
Dean hadn't been able to keep the rice down…again…halfway through the bowl he'd rushed to the bathroom and emptied his stomach, while Sam and Celia flinched at the sounds of retching.
"He was doing really well until solid food." Sam assured her and she threw him a skeptical look but didn't truly doubt that Dean had. Heat stroke cases this severe usually did well with a liquid diet before getting any where near the task of solids. And Dean had always been quick to get back on his feet.
A little too quick sometimes.
Celia had seen it plenty in cases of the stroke before, but she'd never handled a withdrawal case before and the symptoms overlapping were threatening a terrifying possibly that Dean could emaciate into a shadow of a man. It worried her.
The only reason that she even allowed him try to keep solids down was the way he looked out through his lashes at her. The green eyes had always been a weakness of hers, she decided after Dean's latest round of vomiting that she was going to put her foot down. Green eyes and everything. She wasn't going to let him make himself worse.
Celia sighed and turned the bowls over onto a towel to dry. She and Sam had shared Dean's meal of rice, spiced with a little chili and cheese for flavor to keep Dean from suffering alone. It hadn't worked well.
Dean still suffered.
Celia glanced over her shoulder at Sam. The taller brother was absorbed almost totally in his laptop, taking the time out to scratch and flinch at his sunburned skin, or glancing up and out of the screen door into the yard. His direct eye line locked on the bay painted mare in the round pen as she paced nervously and tossed her head to try and get out of the rope halter. These brief hesitations quickly melted into the laptop again. As curious as she was about what the younger Winchester was up to Celia couldn't discreetly look over his shoulder, he was sitting with his back to the wall. And if she asked him about it she knew for a fact she would get a lie. Or if he was feeling guilty maybe a half truth.
Celia lifted the steaming and whistling kettle off of the stove and poured it over a rough tea bag in one of the ceramic mugs from the cupboard. She sniffed at the steaming cup once before carrying it out of the kitchen and into the first floor guest bedroom.
Dean was sprawled across the bed and looked like he was dozing, his pale color was like milk stained red across his cheek bones and down his forearms in mild sunburns. She could see the blue of his veins just below the surface, like his skin was rice paper. Valentine was curled up at the end of the bed, nursing his strained shoulder muscle.
Dean had been concerned over the limp in the white dog's step and in his own way fussed quietly over the shoulder until Celia declared it a kicked muscle strain. She related to Dean how the shepherd had obtained a kick from the homewrecker mare and assured him that a littler rest and light massage of the muscle from time to time and Valentine would be the holy terror he always was in a day or two.
Dean seemed to looking through slit eye out of the window and into the yard, the sunlight spilling over his frame. But the sun was betraying him, he looked thinner, smaller than he had yesterday.
"Dean?"
He turned his head slowly and stiffened up, pushing himself up to sit as she approached carefully.
"Hows yer stomach?"
Dean grunted quietly, he seemed to be trying to avoid speaking to her, which was in itself upsetting but understandable.
"Ya gonna ask me for solid food again?" She tried to tease him lightly. Dean snorted quietly through his nose and rolled his head back slightly before looking back at her.
"I think I've learned my lesson." Dean said and patted his stomach, he flinched and forced a smile to his face. Celia rolled her eyes at the obvious pain in the expression.
"This should help settle ya." She offered the tea to him, Dean took the mug in twitching hands and sniffed. He flinched and jerked his head back and away from the steaming liquid.
"Tea?"
"Yessir." Celia sniffed, "I don't trust ya with coffee yet." She invited herself to sit on the edge of the bed and watch him suffer through taking a sip of the strong smelling liquid. She swallowed and twitched nervously.
"Dean, ya mind if I ask ya somethin'?" She sighed and Dean raised his eyebrows, then nodded for her to continue. "Alright," She turned and whistled sharply, "Sam! Ya come here please!" She called down the hall, keeping her voice casual to avoid panicking the younger brother.
"Sam, too?" Dean asked with another sip of the tea.
"Sam, too." Celia assured and looked up as the younger brother slipped into the room and when Celia motioned towards the plush brown chair in the corner of the room. The two brothers looked at her expectantly and Celia could see more than curiosity putting tension in their shoulders.
Celia took a deep breath and looked between the two attentive boys and pulled the brim of her brown Stetson down a littler lower.
She debated that maybe this chance would be better spent discussing more pressing matters.
"Listen boys, ya know its Labor Day weekend, right?" She asked and looked between them.
"We do now." Sam said, his eyebrows perked up and forward, "So?"
"Well, thing is there's a faire." Celia hesitated.
"A faire?" Dean cocked and eyebrow at her.
"More like a show and rodeo and shit like that. Over in Elko County Fair Grounds, bout a hundred and twenty five miles sou-east of here. It's a good little run and I intended to go but I cain't leave the two of ya in a state…" Celia trailed off looking a little embarrassed and rubbing a hand over her face.
Dean and Sam looked between each other, trying to keep from smiling.
"You want us to come?" Sam asked.
"If yer up for it I suggest ya take the offer of a run at a good time on the house if the two of ya can take the abuse. Ya've got two days to steady up. If not I'll skip it." Celia breathed.
"On the house?" Dean asked.
"On me. I know enough of the people runnin' the damn thing that won't have to pay a dime for it. What do ya think? If yer go for it tomorrow night ya want to take a ride?" Celia asked.
"Tomorrow night, I thought you said we had two days." Sam asked, and cocked his head in confusion when Celia nodded.
"If I want to put any of mine in the ring I'm gonna have to be there before sun rise on Monday. And if we go I want to at least have a steer up at auction or a colt in for barrels or somethin'. Ya never go to a faire and come back empty handed. It's a disgrace." Celia said with a puff of pride.
Sam glanced at Dean. The elder brother took a long draw from the tea and shrugged at Sam.
"I'm sure by then I'll be sick of this room and house," Dean reasoned.
"Red, can I talk to my brother for a second?" Sam asked.
"Sure, just let me know. I'm gonna go do a few chores so ya can find me in the yard or barn." Celia rose and walked out of the room leaving the two brothers to look at each other. There was silence so heavy that it felt like a blanket.
"What Sam?" Dean finally rasped out, trying to look anywhere but at his brother. Sam sighed, slumped down into the chair and rubbed his face viciously.
"I don't know…it feels…I don't know…" Sam stumbled trying to figure out what his argument actually was. "We're taking too much from her…even if she can be dangerous we're taking too much. A little charity here and there, sure that's great but…"
"I'm not the one that bitched and moaned until she agreed to take on a horse that's got a mental dysfunction because I have puppy-dog eyes for hopeless cases." Dean snipped and choked a little on the tea, he winced and sighed. Sam decided that having the privilege of watching his brother force down tea would be plenty of return for the insults. So Sam let it go, forcing the blossom of anger bubbling under his ribs.
"Dean. That's my point, we're pushing our luck…like we're taking advantage of her." Sam said finally and braced for the storm. Dean looked horrified for a second then hardened into as much of a steel coil as it was possible for him with pain bursting across his chest and skull.
"We are NOT taking advantage of her." Dean snapped, teeth bared. "We'll pay her back. Some how."
"Alright…alright…" Sam muttered. Dean lifted his head in pride and turned to look out of the window. But something was nagging at him, "But…"
Dean tensed and looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.
"But what Sam?"
"What if you're right?" Sam looked absolutely sickened to think what he was about to say, "Maybe she does have red eyes for a reason and we have to kill her…God she's got a family…" The last bit whispered under his breath so even Dean couldn't hear. "Is it possible to pay back a monster for kindness?" Sam spat, suddenly disgusted with his own theory.
Dean looked shocked, startled and disgusted by the suggestion. He'd already started to feel a pull, a connection to Celia. Especially when he watched her humor or take care of Sam. Sam was all he had left and when someone treated that with respect, went out of their way to assure the safety and sanity of that Dean extended a small part of himself to that individual as a thanks and reward. Through all the wariness and nervousness and caution he'd done it again.
The gentle, comforting touch of his hands as he tried to help her, heal her rope burned arm had been that extension of himself.
A part of Dean retched, reacting so terribly at the thought of having to kill Celia he physically gagged, dry heaving once then settling again under the startled chocolate eyes staring out at him from Sam's face.
"Dean?" Sam said sharply.
"I'm fine." Dean coughed, trying to settle himself and bit the inside of his cheek. He shook off the feeling, a bigger part of him, the Hunter glared and snorted at the small show of weakness. It spat at him that he already knew that factor was in play. The Hunter was already planting that reality in him. Dean breathed heavily. Then forced the suave, teasing mask back to surface. "You're just making an excuse so you don't have to go outside for a stupid little horse show." Dean accused.
Sam looked startled, the change had been drastic and caught the younger brother off guard. "Dean. No, what if-"
"We'll burn that bridge when it comes." Dean said in a low, ground out tone that made it very clear that there was no arguing. Sam fell back submissively and said nothing and Dean lightened up instantly, sometimes an older sibling just needed to be obeyed. Feeling exhausted Dean pressed on, sinking lower into the mattress as he spoke. "C'mon Sammy. It'll be good to get out in the fresh air with out getting beat up by a horse and getting in contact with a bunch of people, who knows what we can find out about the fires and predators." Dean reasoned, ending the conversation and turning back to his tea.
"But Dean-"
"Sam she obviously feels responsible for us. 'I can't leave y'all alone when yer in a state'?" Dean imitated Celia's drawl perfectly, "Not true but let's humor her. She wanted to go to the damn thing, she said so herself. If she feels like she can't leave us alone then we go so she can. It's the only solution. It might be fun, not our kind of fun but fun."
"Alright, but if you even feel queasy tomorrow, no way." Sam growled, it was an empty threat and he knew it.
"Whatever bitch." Dean muttered as Sam stood to walk out of the room.
"Jerk." Sam resonated back without the same amount of joke or venom it normally had. Sam passed down the hall and into the kitchen.
"Red?' he looked around and then ducked his head to look under the table. Buckshot and the old collie Alamo were gone. Sam sniffed a little and walked purposefully into the mud room and pulled out one of the walkie-talkies. He turned the channel to two and walked out to stand on the porch and watch the bay paint jump at the sight of him and snorted, shaking her head and pinned her ears, standing as far away from him as possible.
"Red?" He called over the channel.
"Yeah." She radioed a second later.
"I talked to Dean, we'll go to the faire."
"Alright." Sam could practically hear the smile in her voice, "Alright, if yer up for it. Do me a favor then Sam."
"What's that?"
"There's a list of numbers posted on the freezer door, call up Lynn Sheridan and tell her that yer callin' for Northwind and that I'll put in one on barrel, one on cuttin', one for pleasure and one in hand for the Labor Day. When she asks for a stall number tell her one on one off and when she asks for hand number tell her two on. She'll give ya a registration number, stall numbers and a time, write all those down for me."
Half way through her instructions Sam had grabbed a pad and paper and was scribbling down what she said under the silhouette hooves of a trotting horse. Sam read back what she'd said to check and assured her that he would, though he didn't under stand half the lingo that was used.
"Appreciated Sam. Just try and get that done before five tonight for me, if ya will."
"Sure, where are you?" Sam radioed back.
"A few hundred yards out, I'm bringin' in the cattle. I'll be back 'round seven and we'll talk 'bout chow."
"Alright, see you later Red."
"Square Sam." And the radio fizzled out.
Sam couldn't help but sigh and smile slightly to himself as he crossed over and pulled the list of names and phone numbers off of the refrigerator door and picked up the hand set from the phone. His eyes ran down the list of names and he couldn't help but lift his eyebrows at some of the nicknames, or he hoped they were nicknames, mingled into the list.
Butterfly Ben
Catgut Stevens
Massacre
And others, the list had to have been decades old, the names and numbers rewritten as they faded over the years or crossed out and changed. But the paper had a brittle feel to it, it seemed like no one bothered to or wanted to write it on a new piece of paper.
Sam stopped and looked down at the end of the list were it seemed the most recent numbers were written. He stiffened.
Mary and John
Sam's heart stopped and he literally choked on his own tongue. The number next to the last name were blackened, scratched out so much that Sam couldn't read it. There had been a point that there had been another number, then a third and a fourth. But those had been scratched out and Sam again couldn't read the numbers.
Heavily unnerved and feeling nervous, Sam dialed Lynn Sheridan's number and waited until she answered.
"This is Lynn." A light female voice said over the line,
"Hi, Lynn this is Sam Wilson. I'm calling if for Northwind. Celia Northwind." Sam said, trying to flush the unnerved ring from his voice.
"The Red, huh? Alright Mr. Wilson. She want in on the run?"
Sam hesitated, "Um…yeah. For Labor Day. She said she'll put one in on barrel and one in on cutting, one for pleasure and one in hand." Sam said reading his notes off the scrap paper.
There was the muffles sound of moving paper and a pen scratching on the other end of the phone.
"Alright, barrel, cut, pleasure and hand." Sheridan muttered, "Stall number?"
"Uh, she said 'one on and one off'." Sam repeated.
"Ya readin' this off a slip of paper, son?" Sheridan asked with a smile in her voice.
Sam hesitated and licked his lips, "Um…"
There was a small chuckled on the other end. "Alright Mr. Wilson, hand number?"
"She said two." Sam said and was rubbing the back of his neck.
"Alright Mr. Wilson. Ya got a pen?"
"Yes."
"Alright, Mr. Wilson. Red's register number is 4502B. Stalls are 14 and 15 Barn B. Pole time is 7:30 am. Barns gotta be clear by noon Tuesday. Alright?"
"Okay, got it. Thanks." Sam said scribbling the new notes of information out on a fresh piece of note paper.
"Mr. Wilson, how'd ya come by to be a friend of the Red?" Sheridan asked from the other end.
"Huh?" Sam stumbled, "Um, recent friendship." He reasoned.
"Alright, well let me warn ya, son. The Red's got a streak. Alright?"
"Alright, thank you." Sam muttered, unnerved.
"Ya, too Mr. Wilson."
Sam hung up the head set and looked at the list of names a final time. He felt a small shiver run down his spine, it was definitely unnerving being spoken to that way from a stranger he couldn't even see. Sam rolled his shoulders back to shake the odd feeling. He decided to keep it to himself. Or at least until Dean decided to bring up Celia's red eyes and strange manner again.
"It's not Mom and Dad." Sam reasoned, chewing the inside of his cheek and turning his back on the aged piece of paper.
…
Celia came in from working the cattle about the same as she had the night before and hundreds of nights before that one. Bone tired, sore and hanging her head. But as was the creed of the Greer home went animals before man and didn't step foot inside the house until the gates and stalls were locked and all were fed. She stumbled inside smelling thickly of her own sweat and Nevada clay mud with Alamo, Buckshot and Rosie on her heels. Sam's neat hand writing on a scrap of paper drew her attention and she read the information with an ease in a knot in her stomach.
"Thanks Sam!" She yelled into the house. A startled and sharp grunt followed by a thud told her instantly that either Sam had been sleeping on the couch or had just jumped out of his chair. She couldn't help but smile to herself and walked through the rut like routine of partially cleaning herself up then pulled open the refrigerator door and stared into it for a full eight minuets, rubbing her hands over her face before giving a defeated sigh. With a growl she snatched the hand set of the phone, a twenty dollar bill from her wallet and a set of newspaper pizza coupons from under a horse shaped magnet off the freezer door. She marched into the living room were Sam was rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to nurse his laptop, having fallen on top of it when Celia woke him sharply from the accidental nap he took.
"Here." She snarled and dropped the money, coupons and phone onto Sam's stomach, "Order a pizza." Sam looked around at her, he felt the sudden feeling of being ordered around by an elder sibling to finish menial tasks not worthy of the older individual's time.
"Call this person, order that. I'm some kind of messenger boy I guess." Sam muttered and using the coupons dialed the number to a local pizza parlor.
"Being a messenger boy is better than somethin' else I could make ya do." Celia called casually back at him. "Ya wanna eat, make the call. I'm a desert girl. I can go six days without food. I don't suggest ya try it cold turkey like that, though."
Sam shook his head, smiling quietly and after listening to the polite drawl of the young man that answered the other end ordered Dean's favorite pizza. Another ditch effort to try and get his brother to hold something solid down. Maybe bland food wasn't the way to go. Personally if he had the choice he'd take greasy order in food over rice and toast any day. Maybe Dean's basically junk and diner sustained systems would faire better with its normal intake.
Celia stalked into Dean's room. The elder Winchester glanced up bleary eyed at her. His skin looked milk pale and the hallows under his eyes were a blue grey. He looked almost graunt, the color that had started to come back had drained again entirely.
"Shit Dean, what happened?" She asked, startled by the way he looked. Dean swallowed, as if trying to force a lump of clay down his throat. Feeling absolutely wretched Dean found himself unable to lie to her much less put on a mask of 'I'm fine'.
"I threw up again." He muttered and Celia winced sighing heavily. "And a couple times after that."
"Damnit Dean. Ya were startin' to look good again." She crossed over and cupped his chin with her palm. Dean's head instantly became dead weight, supported only by her hand and allowed her to lift and turn his head so she could look at him better. "Ya look torqueked. Ya tried to eat somethin' didn't ya? Or that beer got to ya."
"I didn't eat anything." Dean muttered.
"Ya hungry?"
Dean shook his head, eyes cast down and tired, the green glazed over to a dull color.
"What the hell is wrong with this fuckin' Coyote?" Celia spat under her breath, Dean twitched slightly. "Can't even reason with the damn thing. Dean ? Listen to me." She gave his head a little shake and Dean jerked up to look at her tiredly. He gave a violent shiver.
"Dean that damn thing comes any where near ya in yer dreams I want ya to beat the tar out of it, alright?"
Dean swallowed and whispered tiredly, "Yes."
"Good boy, go to sleep. If ya want sleep though 'til morin' or more, if ya start havin' any kind of nightmare holler for me or Sammy."
"Alright." Dean muttered, already shutting his eyes and intending to fall asleep in her hand. "What Coyote?" He muttered.
"Unanni. Dean. His name is Unanni the Trickster. Tell him to back the fuck off." Celia encouraged. Dean smiled, a painful huff of air, a slight laugh twisted in his throat.
"Dean, for me."
"Alright." Dean rasped and he sagged, falling asleep on command and slumping until Celia eased his head into the pillow and ran her fingers lightly across his temple and into his hair before slipping back out of the room.
…
Sam insisted on saving a third of the pizza for Dean. Celia didn't argue and advised him to freeze if for the better of the pizza's own survival.
She slipped off, leaving Sam to his own devices to shower out the night. Stepping out of the shower she stretched and rolled her shoulders back before tying the black bandana over her horns and hair and tugged at her white tee shirt and flannel bottoms. She stretched again but stiffened when she heard the sound of a screen door swinging shut with a bang. Celia titled her head and listened. A sharp eerie howl rose far in the distance and panic struck her again full shift.
"Sam." She jogged lightly down the hall and steps, towards the front door.
Sam flinched as the screen door swung shut with a bang. He hoped that he hadn't disturbed anybody. Especially Dean who had seemed in a deep, sweat soaked sleep the last time he looked in on him. Celia assured him that sweating was a good thing. That Dean was getting over his dehydration, same way that Sam was and she advised him hollowly not to worry.
No such luck, so Sam sought the cool and darkness of the Nevada star flecked night to sort his thoughts and replay memories of the day with fresh air in his lungs and a new way to look at what it meant.
Sam stretched and leaned his weight heavily on the porch railing. He heaved a sigh looked around the moonlit yard. He listened, a full belly and troubled mind to the desert. The faint sounds of shuffling hooves, the odd lowing of a cow or nicker of a horse was back with the croaking of a bull frog somewhere, the clicking of crickets and low hum of countless other insects. Sam stilled himself, trying to hear around his heart beat to listen to the minute shuffling of animals in the grasses and clay dirt.
A man with lesser senses and temperament than someone of Sam's training lacked to hear the smallest sounds and had even less appreciation for it. There was a time that Sam had nothing but hate for the dark and everything it held. He still had some of that hate but here at least it subsided. There was a peace in the still and vast night of the desert. A silence that wasn't a silence and it calmed Sam's spinning head and heart. He sighed and tensed twisting slowly as the soft rapid thudding brought a large desert hare into his better than normal night vision.
The hare twitched it's over large ears, cocking its head and scratched at the earth, chewing a cud in it's craw of grasses and strips of bark. Dean smiled, taking a faint memory of when he was barely six years old and Dean had walked him through a pet store that let you pet the animals for sale. Dean had practically pry a brown and white rabbit out of his arms as the left. Sam had pined over the rabbit for nearly a week, well after their father had moved them on to the next town. Sam smiled at the desert hare. Its dust brown fur twitching and expanding as it breathed.
The hare stiffened suddenly, lurching up onto its hind legs, ears slung forward and sniffing. Before Sam could register there was something wrong a blur of red gray fur exploded from the shadows and slammed into the rabbit like a cannon ball.
The impact was accompanied by the stomach turning crunch of fragile bones snapping and splintering and the gut wrenching shriek that all rabbits made when in their death throws. Then silence.
Sam stood with his jaw slack in shock and horror as the hare's life came to a instant but violent end. The younger Winchester felt his heart seize up and his stomach lurch painfully. His eyes locked on the image like a car crash right in front of you on the highway.
Sharp, glowing yellow eyes glared back and out at him. The wolf gave a slight sniff and pranced once in place. Red hair woven into a patchwork of gray and white gave the animal the image of wearing a cloak for camouflage at night. The fur shifted and rippled, giving it the same flickering existence that ghosts and spirits did when they were looked on by mortal eyes. The wolf licked it's jaws, the hares blood trickling though its fur like a menacing badge of hunter skill and murderous intentions. The lean and long shape of the animal gave it a mean and pained looked. The wolf sniffed and snatched up the rabbit.
"HEY!" Sam barked, startling the wolf into dropping the cache and dancing away from him and out of sight. Sam snarled and looked ready to fling himself over the rails of the porch to go after the glowing yellow eyes that circled slowly around the edges of light, the moon casting over its back and frame.
"Sam?" Celia jumped when Sam twisted around almost violently. He was shivering and his jaw clenched tightly. There was a horror and rage in his eye that startled her. Then it broke and Sam sagged. He took a pained breath.
"I couldn't save it. I didn't get a chance to stop it from killing." Sam rasped tiredly. Celia looked at him in confusion then heard the soft crunch of bone and twisted. The wolf had slunk back up to its kill and was trying to tear it in half and get away without being screamed at again. Celia was struck in surprise she blinked.
"Stop it?" She asked.
"I didn't get a goddamn chance top save it." Sam snapped.
Celia froze, caught completely off guard. She stared at the taller man's lanky frame and was struck completely stupid.
"What?" was all she could manage and Sam scoffed.
"That monster killed it!" He snapped.
"Monster? Sam that's a wolf. That's no monster, it's a predator. Are you suggesting that what it's done to ensure its tomorrow is murder?" Celia asked sharply. Sam swallowed thickly.
Oh my God. Celia thought. No one even bothered to talk to ya about this. Goddamnit! Dean! John! What the hell is wrong with ya!?! Didn't have the sense to explain the nature of death to the boy, just teach him it's evil.
"Sam. Look at me and listen real close, alright?"
Sam looked around at her, his eyes seemed clouded and disbelieving.
"Sam for others to live, some must die." She tried tentatively, how the hell do you have this talk with an adult. "That's survival, Nature by design Sam."
"But-"
"Sam. Death is not 'evil'. Its not an entity that emits hate or chooses victims out of spite. It may seem cruel and cold and strike ya like a rattle snake because it wants to but its indifferent. Ya can't hate death, ya might as well hate air."
"I know that." Sam growled.
"Ya sure as hell don't act like it. The she-wolf has to do what she's gotta to continue to live. Sam look at it this way death is necessary. Without death there is no life, they're the same thing." Celia pressed, keeping her tone firm and solid but far from harsh. Celia bit her tongue for a second then decided to press a terse subject. "Sammy, didn't yer momma sit down and talk to ya 'bout this?"
Sam tensed and looked at her, he looked like he'd just run a hundred meter dash.
"She passed away when I was sixth months old…in a fire…" Sam muttered. Celia sighed heavily and nodded.
"I'm sorry 'bout that Sam." Celia said gently. This was one of those subjects that moms usually covered in early childhood. Good mothers, or which Mary Winchester had been. Hell that's what a gold fish when you were four years old were for. Of course for Celia it had been a pony as the main subject of the conversation but Dean had gotten the goldfish. John had suggested a hamster but Mary was sure that the hamster would have been more resilient than a thirty five cent feeder fish.
Celia continued. "But Sam, it's the means and reasons for the death. Not the death itself. Don't think I'm approving of serial killers and gang wars in the big city. Death can be corrupt, twisted and mutilated and that, that's something to call a monster. But that…" She indicated the wolf trying to gather up her kill. "That's a death untainted, there's no shame in it and no reason to call her a monster. Do ya understand what I'm sayin' Sam?"
Sam took a second to process what she said, the compassion and gentleness in her voice lessened a blow that had become something of a monster with years of neglect. Sam breathed out heavily and felt a settling deep in his heart and stomach. A pained ease and Sam watched in silence as the wolf finally gathered up the hare in her jaws and loped away.
"Yeah. I get it."
"Let that rest, Sam. And everythin' I said goes the same for pain." Celia laid a light hand on his shoulder. Sam nodded and turned back to walk in doors with Celia pacing at his side.
Sam settled himself down into the cushions of the couch, with the same fight with Rosie the Red Fur calf, with an ease he hadn't felt in the memory of his life. Rosie lowed quietly and curled up against his stomach. Sam smiled and draped an arm over her side.
…
Dean opened his eyes slowly as the bang of a screen door. He cracked his eyes open and rubbed his eyes and scratched at his scalp. He felt the pains in his chest rattle a little as his ribs expanded in deeper breath.
He listened, hearing the sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen. He felt the mattress shift and the sound of Valentine dropping off of the bed and walking out of the room with a lupine grunt.
Dean sat up with a groan and let his nausea and spikes of pain subside, he fell like his skin was sticky and slicked with sweat. Dean forced his way into his jeans and a tee shirt. Feeling a little spunk coming back he slipped the .45 gun into the back of his jeans and got shakily to his feet. Pain flared down his spine.
Dean tensed, it sounded like there was a radio on, he could hear singing. He stood tense then followed the sound. He eased down the hall and glanced over the back of the couch and made sure his brother was still deeply asleep. Rosie opened one large brown eye at him and sniffed. Dean reached over and gently patted the calf's skull then turned towards the kitchen. He stopped at the edge off the door way and stiffened.
Celia had her back turned to him, she was mixing something in a bowl. Her hair was tied back into a pony tail and a bandanna in place instead of the brown Stetson Dean had grown accustomed to. Dark jeans and her leather belt with the bone hilt knife on her hip. Barefoot and shifting her weight in what could be nothing than a small dance. Her head bobbing. Dean drank in the slender shape of her back and taper of her waist but Dean's blood had gone cold in his veins and rage, an anger imploding with the bitter taste of betrayal.
The white tank top she wore showed off the scarred tattooing, ever mark was defined and screamed at Dean. The exact same marling she'd had in his dream two days before. Dean's hand flew to the gun in his waist band and in deathly silence she crept towards her with the barrel trained on the back of her neck, the fall of his bare feet on the warm stone tiles so light they would have done a fox proud.
And through the drowning feelings of betrayal Dean listened to her singing over whatever song was on the radio. His heart jerking painfully at the honey sweet voice filled the room.
Celia's head bobbed in time, "What goes around comes around, feel it breathin' down heavy on ya. Ya made that bed yer layin' on, deeds that ya have done, now ya cain't undo.
"Ya got bones in yer cloest, ya got ghosts in yer town. Ain't no doubt, they're gonna come out. They're waitin' for the sun to go down. Ya cain't hide fro yer demons, feel 'em all lurkin' 'round. Yer runnin' scared 'cause ya know they're out there. They're waitin' for the sun to go down.
"It's a long and hard road we're on, when seeds that ya sow grow by the wicked moon. Be sure yer sins will find ya out. Yer past will hunt ya down. And return to tell on ya.
"Ya got bones in yer cloest, ya got ghosts in yer town. Ain't no doubt, they're gonna come out. They're waitin' for the sun to go down. Ya cain't hide fro yer demons, feel 'em all lurkin' 'round. Yer runnin' scared 'cause ya know they're out there. They're waitin' for the sun to go down."
Dean felt anger bubble deeper in his chest at the lyrics and he ground his teeth together as she closed. One more step and he could press the muzzle of the gun into the back of Celia's neck.
Celia tensed at that bare noise of scraping enamel. She sniffed once and caught a cloud of Dean's scent. In a blur so fast it rattled Dean's nerve Celia drew the bone hilt knife from her hip and whirled around. With a thick swallow of air and a soft growl from both parties Dean and Celia suddenly found themselves at a stand off. Celia's bone hilt knife was pressed into the smooth flesh of Dean's throat. A little pressure more she'd cut his throat. And the muzzle of Dean's .45 was pressing into the skin of her neck. If fired the bullet would pass straight into her wind pipe, shred the fragile veins and tissues and shatter her neck vertebrae.
Both stood with their eyes narrowed and their chests heaving and the sounds of the radio crackling from the counter.
"Take it off." Dean snarled. Celia's eyes narrowed even more and she did not move. "Take it off." Dean snarled again.
With a growl Celia reached up with her free hand and tugged off the bandanna from her hair. Dean's teeth slashed into the inside of his cheek painfully as he growled and ground his molars together tasting the metallic bite of his own blood. His eyes roamed over the two, obviously shorn down horns splitting from her hair line. If they had been left to grow Dean was sure they would have curled around his ears the same way that they had in his dream.
"What the hell are you?" Dean spat in her face.
"I'm a god." Celia stated, no emotion in her voice as she kept the blade firmly against his throat.
…
The song is "Bones" by Little Big Town off their first CD "Road to Here". Read and Review porfavor y'all…the planet mary and all her woes...
