Finally! Sorry for the lateness. I have been so busy to upload, review, and all that blah blah blah.
The Attempt
Waking up in a cage wasn't new. Nor was waking up human. What was new was going to sleep a dog and waking up a human. He knows it wasn't of his own will, because the collar jangled against his throat, something he found annoying any day of the week. Groggily, he reached a hand up to take off the offending piece of dog-jewelry, only his hand stopped a couple feet short. No. That was wrong. He tried to move his hand, and it didn't go anywhere.
With a confused frown, he blinked.
"You're awake. Good."
Dean's head is kind of floating in a cloud, but he dutifully looks to where the familiar voice had come from.
Gordon was sitting, sprawled out, on a chair in front of Dean's own chair. He's in a chair. Not a cage. Blinking stupidly, Dean looked down at his hands and saw them bound with lengths of piano wire. A little excessive, he thinks, rope works just as well. Though the piano wire is silver, and a pretty good way to keep most supernatural creatures down. Excessive. He was a Familiar, not superman.
"What the fuck, Gordon?" Dean mangled the words and winced at his slurred speech. "What the fuck are you even doing here,"
Dean frowned severely at himself.
Sam hadn't even come here for a Hunt. Nor had Ellen hinted at there being a hunt. So why was Gordon here? Was he following a vampire trail? That seemed like him, but Dean didn't know the man well enough. And his entire head felt like a hot air balloon, too hot and too high and just bloated.
Gordon frowned, getting up to stand in front of Dean. He tilt Dean's chin up and looked in his eyes, and... Was that worry?
Dean couldn't quite get his mind to work right.
It looked like worry.
"I was told Familiars had a low tolerance for most drugs," Gordon said. "But you were out an hour longer than I thought you would be. You were still breathing, so I wasn't too worried."
Dean's a little surprised at that. It makes sense. Been awhile since he's been drugged, sure, but it makes sense. If beer makes him want to hurl, and a shot gets him as tipsy as a sorority girl at three a.m., then what would modern medicine do? The drugs make him loose, and even with Gordon's strong grip of his chin, he flops.
"How'd ya know bout me, anyway?"
His lips are floppy too.
"About you being a Familiar?"
"Duh,"
"Well, at first, I didn't." Gordon admitted, finally letting go of his chin and stepping back. "A few months back, I hunted a Witch. He had a Familiar."
"You killed a Witch with a Familiar?" Dean questioned, looking at Gordon with new eyes.
Taking down a Witch was hard enough. Dean knew Familiars were basically like super-batteries for their Witches. The fact that Dean hadn't even heard of any Hunters taking down a Witch with a familiar before his own untimely turning was statement to that. Next to John, Dean had more time as a Hunter than anyone else. Percentage wise, that is. And none of them were the best at math, so he thought he was right too.
Gordon crossed his arms. "I didn't kill them. They got away."
That made more sense. Dean relaxed a little. "... And this leads to you figuring me out, how?"
"When the Witch ran, he left behind everything. He had a very... extensive library. Specifically on Familiars."
The man smiled. Not a nice smile, at all. Dean narrowed his eyes as Gordon got up and went behind him. He returned not a moment later with a thin book. The cover depicted a hieroglyphic looking person with each body part different. A hand was a hoof, a leg was shaped like a haunch, and the face was a hawks. He couldn't understand the title, but it was in loopy sharp print.
"This. This is how I found you."
Dean's heart stuttered to a halt.
" Found me?"
He remembered that Irene had known what to look for... said it had something to do with his aura. Could it be as simple as reading a book to figure out how to track Familiars? Dean couldn't take his eyes off the book in Gordon's hands. Was it a spell?
What little safety net of denial he had disappeared, was gone. Poof.
"How?"
Gordon sat down. Opened the book slowly.
Dean hadn't know that a book could be torturous without being forced to be read, but this book about familiars was.
"It's a spell," Gordon revealed, with a flash of teeth. He stopped the book open to one page and turned that to Dean.
It was all in latin, and Dean had never been good at just reading it off like Sam - but there was a sketch. It was of two people and a dog. One of the people and the dog 'glowed' with a gradient of grey, the other person's eyes were depicted as glowing as well. So a spell to see Familiar's in any form. Great. Another thing he needed to worry about. People being able to see him besides little old women.
"Well. That's... nifty. Still doesn't explain how you knew it was me,"
Gordon's smile didn't drop an inch.
"You're not the only one with Roadhouse connections."
It felt like cold water splashed down his entire spine. Dean knew then that he's coming out of his drugged-stupor as he shook his head. Felt his more snappish qualities coming back. He felt even angrier as Gordon took his phone from his pocket, fiddles with it for a moment, and turned it to Dean.
On the screen is a picture of Dean, and since it's him as dog-Dean, he hasn't a clue where it was taken. Sam's pant leg is next to him, but he always wears jeans, which is no help at all. Dean himself is perky eared, tongue lolling, but bright eyed on a target. This picture could have been taken anywhere and anytime in the past year. Any time. He felt a crawling feeling along his back as he tried to imagine who got close enough that he didn't even notice.
Fuck . Dean thinks. If Gordon knows about him, that means other Hunter's know about him. The only saving grace is it seems like most other Hunters who had this piece of information weren't actively hunting him down. That seemed to be solely a Gordon problem.
Closing his eyes and breathing before he reopened his eyes, Dean tried to steady himself.
"Alright, so you know I'm a Familiar. You've got me tied to chair." Dean rolled his eyes. "Plans?"
"This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter."
None of that sounded good. Dean sweat a little as Gordon came closer. This was it. This was how he died.
"And your brother's fair game."
That was so far left field from what they had been talking about, Dean stiffened in shock.
"Why the fuck do you want to kill Sam?" Dean demanded, mouth agape. "I thought we were talking about me being a fucking familiar!"
Gordon shook his head, amused at Dean. Like he didn't understand.
"See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana." Gordon leaned back casually. Story time. Fucking fantastic. "Teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something. About a coming war. And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But it was too late. Piqued my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, you got the right tools."
"And the girl it was possessing?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.
Gordon was a specific type of Hunter.
"She didn't make it,"
"Well, you're a son of a bitch." Dean snarled, shaking his head.
Gordon went stoney faced angry before he just smiled, standing up and getting into Dean's face. "You know, that's my momma you're talking about, but your momma is the real bitch, isn't she, puppy ?"
Dean surged forward with a snarl but Gordon had already jerked out of the way. With a smile that wasn't anything close to a smile. He waved away Dean's glare and his teeth.
"Anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans, fighting on hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race?"
Dean wisely kept his mouth shut tight, keeping in the snarl that wanted to bloom from his chest.
"But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester."
"And you believed 'em?" Dean was well past amused. There was a certain terror of knowing his secret was so exposed. And now this yahoo was after his brother, as well. God, all he had wanted to do was find Sam. Now they both were in danger. And Sam didn't even know.
Sam who had convinced him vampires should be released because they didn't kill humans.
Him betraying humanity was as laughable as a kitten able to eat a full grown man.
"I know. About Sam's visions. I know everything."
Dean didn't doubt he did. If he knew that Dean was a Familiar, had a spell that could track him and other's like him down, than was it so far out that he knew about Sam's visions? And the roadhouse... Dammit Ellen.
A phone rang then. The ring tone hauntingly familiar.
It was Dean's phone.
Fuck. Sam . What a time to realize your brother is alive and you want to reach out to him.
Gordon was quick, pulling a pistol up to his head and then grabbing Dean's phone before the second ring.
"The address is 5637 Monroe Street. You say a thing I don't like, tell your brother anything I don't tell you to say: I'll blow your brains out."
Then he flipped the phone open and answered it to put it against Dean's ear. It was much too close and Dean jerked back instinctively from the static in his ear. Gordon kept a hold of the phone but held it about an inch away.
"Hello?" He asked, the cold metal of the gun against his temple a stark reminder that Gordon was unchained, loose and totally willing to kill.
"Dean?"
Sam's voice, even echoing across the phone settled Dean. Dean felt more like himself. He decided to be brutally honest.
"Sam," Dean raised his voice a little, to show he was happy he was calling. "I've been looking for you."
"Yeah. Look, I'm in Indiana, uh Lafayette."
Dean breathed deeply.
"I know."
Please fucking understand the significance of that you fucking idiot, Dean pleaded in his mind.
"You... do?"
"Yeah, I talked to Ellen. Just got here myself. It's a real funky town..." His codeword slipped past easily, without a flinch or a flicker from him. "You ditched me, Sammy."
And wow. Yeah. That hurt more than he thought it would. Reopened all those weird wounds in his chest.
Who knew abandonment really hurt?
Sam was a little suspicious, Dean knew he recognized the code-word, but there was also something else. Something Sam wasn't saying, because he now knew time was of the essence. Maybe he realized that Dean had been taken right in front of him?
"Uh, how's your furry problem?"
Dean felt like punching him. Really? Now he cares?
"Fine." He bit out.
"Listen Dean some weird shit is happening, I've got a lead on some of my... personal problems. Where are you?"
Dean hears Gordon's heartbeat pick up in excitement. Smells that he is pleased with the way the conversation is going. Dean's immediately suspicious, but doesn't know why Gordon is feeling as he does... Could he - he's smart. He knows that Dean and Sam have lived the Hunter life their entire lives (or nearly for Sam). He knows about codewords, even if he works alone, he's got to know Dean has warned Sam.
And he wants that. Dean feels his heart sink.
Fuck. Dammit all fuck . Dean just practically gift wrapped his brother.
Dean knows Gordon knows he's going to drop a codeword somewhere in his conversation. Now that he knows that, he can't let his brother walk into this trap. He... he can't. So he knows the situation is dire and he needs to warn Sam. How though?
He knew how. Funky town used with beer meant he was in trouble, be on guard, and run, fucking run.
With eyes closed and a deep breath, Dean tells Sam the only way he know: 'Run'.
"I'm staying at, uh, 5637 Monroe St. Why don't you grab a beer and meet me here?"
There is a pause a moment longer than needs to be.
"Yeah. Sure."
And Sam hangs up.
Atta boy, Sammy, Dean thinks.
"Good boy," Gordon says, petting Dean hair. Which makes Dean stiffen and a shiver goes down his spin as the creep-factor of the whole situation notches up by ten. His breath catches. Suddenly he's back with Andy and Webber who controlled his actions with such a simple touch and words that took over his mind.
He tugged his head out of Gordon's grasp.
"Bite me."
Sam stared down at the phone in his hand.
These past two weeks had been harder than he thought they would be. Probably worse for Dean, who physically suffered, but Sam had his own problems to deal with. Granted, perhaps, being a Familiar without a person was not a walk in the park but Dean would survive. Hell, he even deserved it a little.
Sam was a better person than Dean though, so he felt bad that he was doing this to him.
And Sam knew he was somewhat responsible for Dean now. It was hard not to know. With how Dean acted now, it wasn't a hard line to cross. Dean as a dog wasn't exactly dependant on anyone (he was vicious, sure, and nasty), but with the collar on they had roles to play. And they both were good at them.
Scarily good. Sam had to remind himself often to keep in mind Dean was the dog. It was easy when Dean was talking back, but sometimes he was just... silent. The running litany of mind-speak sometimes slowed to nothing and Sam was just left with a dog. His brother, yes, but a dog. A dog who acted like a dog, who obeyed commands, who ran after lights, who curled up with him and snuggled; a dog.
Sam had gotten comfortable in their life. Had forgotten a lot of the bad shit and had settled somewhat.
His mistake.
Dean's truth bomb from their father had... had thrown him completely. Never in his wildest dreams had he honestly thought that his father would ever admit to thinking him a monster. In his dreams? Yes. his nightmares, too. Literally?... It had been a fear but one that was mostly unfounded. And yet it was true. His father had thought him a monster, enough that he tasked Dean - a Familiar for fuck's say - with Sam's death. Right before death. The bastard. It was a dick move.
Sam shut down. He didn't process anything but the betrayal.
When Dean had walked away, Sam knew he should stop him, but he just couldn't. Couldn't force the words out of his throat. Couldn't open his mouth and call out.
And then Dean was gone.
You wouldn't think it, but as a dog, Dean was fast. It took him only a few minutes to disappear, and Sam hadn't even been looking to see it. To lost in his own thoughts, his own pain. He ignored Dean until he was gone and then he felt guilty. Of course he did, he wasn't a robot.
But he had enough respect for himself and for Dean that he didn't call him like some worried sick idiot.
He walked away, drove away, and he didn't stop until he reached the coast. When he looked at his phone, he had no messages. That wouldn't be the normal after a week, but still. No messages.
In the beginning it was a relief. It was everything he thought confirmed. Dean's betrayal stung, and it weighed on it, and it just kept settling in his mind like a wound that refused to heal. Until he got that first voicemail, he just assumed Dean had gone completely feral. Especially since Bobby had confirmed that Dean hadn't showed up there.
But that first voicemail...
Sam still remembered the bar he was sitting in, watching his phone ring once, then twice, and then on the third a voicemail. Watching the light blink, he shotgunned his beer before listening.
And it was everything he never wanted to hear and everything he needed to hear.
[I know it was shitty, me keeping Dad's last words a secret, but what was I supposed to do, Sam?]
There was, of all things, a bleat that followed that. Like. From a lamb. Sam blinked stupidly as he listened to Dean continue.
[In case you care, I am fine. I'm with this lady.]
Sam's hand clenched, mouth absolutely dropped. What ? He had... he had found someone?
[She's a spitfire. Found me in some park... She's a witch. A nice one. I'm helping around her house and she's letting me hang out. There's this lamb, and it won't stop following me around and yelling at me and - ]
There was a pause and Sam still felt completely baffled. A woman? Dean was with a woman? A witch, at that?
For a long second, Sam was gripped by the fear that Dean was in the clutches of a Witch, one that had finally bound him against his will. Sam had abandoned him, and Dean had packed up with the closest supernatural creature he would. It stung, almost worse than the first betrayal. And yet...
... He had found a replacement.
His mouth was dry, his heart pounding. Sam still remembered Dean saying he would rather go doggie than find someone and felt gutted. Dean was moving on.
[And I don't know, Sam. There's a lot of things I don't know. A lot more than usual, anyway.]
Dean paused again. Sam could only stare at the backsplash of the bar. His mind going a mile a minute.
[Just give me a call when you're ready to meet back up.]
Sam had ordered another beer.
The next ten voicemails over the next week were much the same, but Sam found his guilt waning each time. Dean wanted to meet backup, yes, but Sam could hear that he was... happier than he had been. It was the small things. The pauses. The laughs. How he was sometimes interrupted by some animal, whether it be a lamb or a goat or a chicken.
One time he heard the 'lady' in question in the background of one voicemail.
It was voicemail eight.
Dean was asking again where they could meet. Sam was listening in the Impala as he watched the hospital entrance.
[Hey! Dean! Where'd you put the rake?]
Dean's voicemail voice cut off as he answered.
[Shed! - I don't know why you haven't responded yet. Come on, dude,]
And Sam hadn't bothered listening too closely to the last few seconds.
It was hard, but he couldn't call him back. He wasn't sure if he had forgiven him for keeping dads words from him - but he knew it didn't matter. Sam just hadn't been able to ruin whatever it was that Dean had found. Especially as his own journey seemed to be heating up. If finding Ava was any consolation to that...
"What is it?" Ava asked, next to him with her arms crossed.
"My brother's in trouble." He said, brow furrowed as he thought over the code-words.
"What?"
"He gave me a codeword. Someone's got a gun on him... and he told me to run."
"Codeword?" Ava said, eyes wide. "Run?"
"Yeah. Funkytown. Then he told me to get beer."
He smiled a little. Remembering where that had come from. What a long time ago it was. How long had it been seen he felt that safe?
"Well, he thought of it. It's kind of a . . .long story."
At Ava's gaping face he waved it away.
"I ... come on."
Dean being happy with a Witch or not, he was in trouble.
The book has been left open, and Dean tried to read it. He lost that battle through boredom and his lack of amazing language skills. Eyes flickered over to the book, open to the new page. Gordon had stopped and read a bit in the book, taunting Dean with things only Tanner had know. The picture this page displayed was actually two. One on top of the other. The first showed two people, once again, and a dog. The dog was chained to a wall and mouth open and straining while one of the people stabbed the other. Red, dark brown slashes coming from the person's chest.
The second picture showed the one person on the ground dead, and the other person putting a new, differently drawn collar on the dog. The dog no longer trying to get away but sitting on the ground, head hanging. It was a very disturbing picture.
"So you want to kill Sam, that's clear... the only thing I'm confused on - why am I still alive?"
Because Dean's not an idiot. Gordon, from both his own conversations with the man and Ellen's warnings delivered by Sam, he knows Gordon is a bloodthirsty bastard with a serious chip on his shoulder concerning any monsters. He's like Dean version 2.0 if Dean had actually chosen the life of Hunting, rather than raised to be who he was. It makes a difference, Dean has found. It really really does.
Gordon has been silent for a few minutes, fiddling and going through his bag of tricks, pulling knives out of the sleeves and other tools of the trade. Dean can smell the old blood on each of the instruments. Vampire blood, werewolf, and some human in there too. Gordon clearly doesn't care about infection over whoever gets stabbed with said knives. It makes Dean's nose twitch.
"Think about it Dean," Gordon said, and Dean's attention snaps to Gordon.
Dean narrowed his eyes, but he does. "What is there to think about. According to you, I'm a monster. So. Why am I not dead?"
Gordon looked at Dean then, the first time he'd met eyes with the man in nearly twenty minutes. Then he threw back his head and laughed. And laughed and laughed. Dean really wanted to punch him for that. As the laugh trailed off into short barks of huffing laughter, he sighed and wiped away a stray tear.
Then he walked over and crouched in front of Dean, now they were eye level.
"You're a familiar, Dean. You're a creature, sure, but I wouldn't call you a Monster. You keep your human brain, you don't have a need to kill, no bloodlust. You're harmless, as far as I'm concerned."
Dean stared at him.
What the fuck?
"I know, I know, doesn't sound like me, right?"
"Damn right it doesn't."
"Listen Dean, even I know familiars are cursed," Gordon snorted. "You can bite people to transfer the curse, but all that does is make more baby familiars. And even that doesn't work all the time. Usually, it's just an infection followed by a fever and then normal human life with an immunity to familiar bites later in life. Plus, the only time you're really dangerous is when a Witch is involved." Gordon made as if looking around, checking over his shoulder. "And I don't see a Witch, do you?"
"And what if I did have a Witch?"
Gordon shrugged. "I've killed pets before to get to their owners. Or I left them. I see no difference."
Dean felt cold. His heart skipped a beat. Gordon considered him non-human, but not non-human enough to be worthy of execution. It's almost an insult. Almost. The relief that Gordon apparently thinks him sub-human, and therefore lesser and probably dumb, makes its way into his heart.
Clenching his fists, Dean straightened up. "So what... you think I'm a pet?"
Gordon raised a brow.
"You turn into a dog , Dean,"
Well. He wasn't wrong.
"Plus, I've always been more of a dog person."
What the fuck did that comment mean ?
"Ahhh, I've got your attention now, don't I?" Gordon said, once more rising to his feet and headed towards the table. He picked up the book, on that same page it had been open to, and brought it over. Dean could see more clearly the depictions and the colors of the pictures.
It looked almost like...
Dean froze.
They were people, and a dog. It was the picture Dean had seen, only now Dean understood. It looked like the one person had killed the other person to take the familiar, the dog, and bind it. The symbol of the collar was clear. It was to bind one being to another. Switching from a blue collar to a purple collar. And if Sam was his person...
"It's a binding ritual." Dean whispered, eyes closed.
"Bingo."
"I already have a person I'm bound to," He lied.
Gordon just smiled. "Exactly."
It clicks. Gordon wants to kill two birds with one stone. He wants Dean as a Familiar. He wants to kill Sam. If he does one, he does both.
"You sick fuck," Dean spat. "So it's a two for one kind of deal, huh? You kill Sam and you get rid of him and then take me on as your familiar?"
His stomach feels like it wants to riot at that thought. It's entirely unacceptable. Sam dying would be like a part of himself dying.
It's not allowed. It will never be allowed.
"As if you weren't hypocritical enough, you've added having a Supernatural Pet to the list of things you're willing to do," Dean strained against his restraints. "Newsflash Gordy, a familiar needs to be willing. And I ain't willing to bind myself to you. I won't. Over my fucking dead body. And if you kill Sam, over his as well."
Gordon sighed.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," He sang, patting his cheek as the Familiar snarled at him and jerked as far away as he could. "When your Witch dies, for about a half an hour to an hour or so, you'll be begging for another bond to replace the one you lost."
He says it like he knows. Like he's seen it. As if it's a fact.
Dean's eyes twitch to the book in his hands in distress. What the fuck were in those books?
Nobody ever fucking mentioned any of this. Not about bonds, or willingness being so flaky directly after losing a bond - but Dean knows that it will hurt. Not having half a bond that kept him human. He knows it will be like losing a part of himself, like an arm or a leg, but he also knows he can survive.
Apparently he just needs to last an hour.
Dean shakes those thoughts off. Sam and Dean aren't even bonded properly. He knows they aren't. The pain will be as much losing the last piece of his family as it is losing his Person. It's then that Dean realizes exactly what Gordon said.
"Sam's not a Witch."
Gordon shook his head, like Dean was telling a funny joke. "Come on Dean, I thought we were past this. Lying so blatantly?"
Dean shook his head firmly. "He might be psychic, and fucked up by some weird demon shit when he was a kid, but he's not a Witch,"
"Sure, and I'm white."
"He's not."
Gordon shook his head. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"He's not ."
"Only Witches, only people with magic, can bind anyone."
"Then you'd be a fucking Witch if I was bound to you, doesn't that mean you'd have to kill yourself, too?"
Gordon easily dismissed that.
"That's different."
"Oh sure,"
"It is. I'm not some demon's-second-coming that will bring about the end of the world. I'm still working in humanity's best interest. I'm still human."
Dean looked him straight in the eye as he delivered: " Barely ."
"I'm not the one who isn't human here, Dean," Gordon said, before shaking his head, as if he'd gotten off track. "You don't even know, Dean. You don't know what I've seen. About a month ago I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them."
Well damn. Looks like there was a hunt here. Gordon had killed a kid that was like Sam.
"Yeah, did he kill anyone?"
"Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No." Gordon didn't seem at all bothered by the double standard he had set for himself. "But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too."
"Let me get this straight." Dean yanked at his restraints. "The kid was just a little weird in the head, had visions of the yellow-eyed demon, but hadn't actually killed anyone? Last I knew, Hunters hunted those that hunted others."
"He was a monster,"
"No, he was a kid. A scared kid," Dean felt his skin tingle. He'd been a human too long. It was starting to wear on him. "I've met some of these kids... They're as human as you or I. Sam's my flesh and blood for God's sake, you really think our father woulda taken in any demon kids?"
Gordon just stared at him. Shook his head, like Dean was the crazy one.
"You'll see Dean. Once Sammy," Dean wanted to snarl at the nickname. It was his nickname for Sam. "is out of the picture, you'll see."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You can't honestly think Sam's stupid enough to walk into a trap like this, do you?"
"No, I don't," Here, Gordon smiled. "Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him."
Feeling sick, Dean realized he was right. Gordon wasn't an idiot. Crazy, sure, but he was just as smart as any Hunter. He knew about Dean and Sam's codewords. Had Dean not been a Familiar, he wouldn't have heard the uptick in the man's heartbeat and his smell. He would have blindly told his brother to come back. He would have been responsible for his brother's death.
As Gordon outlined his plan, outlined exactly how he was going to catch Sam unaware, Dean had never felt more grateful for his furry-alter-ego. It was because he knew things, he had been able to warn his brother away.
Now to just pray Sam listened.
Dean smirked, smug. "Sam's not coming."
Gordon's smile drops a little. His smile hardens. He doesn't say a thing, though, just kind of looked at Dean.
"You warned him." A statement. "How?"
"My senses are a hundred times more tuned, now," Dean didn't see a problem with admitting. The man had books that probably would tell him soon enough. "I heard your heartbeat, smelled your excitement. At first, all I told him was someone had a gun on me, but then after I realized you wanted that, I warned him to run."
Gordon smiled, shaking his head. "You Winchesters," He stated, almost fondly. "Your Daddy taught you well."
"You bet he did," Dean flashed teeth then, teeth that were starting to elongate as Dean decided he had had enough. The itching under his skin had gotten worse and worse with each passing second. He couldn't fight the change, no matter how much he could claim control.
He was a dog on the chair, struggling out of the weird way the restraints had fallen on his skinny paws and legs and haunches, before Gordon could even really blink. But those precious few seconds finding his way out of the piano wire and the chair ended up being a second too long. As he turned to jump off the chair, Gordon went for him.
"Oh no you don't," Gordon snarled, grabbing Dean by the scruff of the neck and pulling him bodily over to him.
Dean could fight if he could just get his teeth into something, but the way Gordon had him, he was full frontal to Gordon's chest. He could struggle and writhe, but the man had a firm hold under his jaw, across his neck, and against his midsection. Dean stopped struggling as soon as he realized the man had the upper hand. It was useless to keep wiggling. The man had firm's hands and strong, unyielding forearms.
:Let me fucking go,: He demanded, but knew that was also useless. Gordon wasn't a Witch. He wasn't even really magically inclined as far as Dean knew. He was as deaf as any human was. It was because of that that Dean just kept babbling. :Please let me fucking go. I will never bind myself to you. I will never give in you stupid idiot. Sam if you can hear me, don't you dare come in - Gordon's got a trap all laid up for you!:
The only physical sound was the low growling-whine coming from his throat.
Dean kept broadcasting, even as Gordon took extra care to reach for something behind him with the arm that had been around Dean's middle - which had been replaced by a strong leg. Gordon had control of his head and Dean knew it would be no use to fight it. As long as he controlled Dean's muzzle, the Familiar was trapped.
It didn't take but a moment for Dean to wish he had fought harder.
Because what Gordon brought around to right in front of his face was a muzzle. A silver muzzle made of leather and silver, the buckles small but solid. The worse part was that the smell stung Dean's nose and he knew that smell. It was the smell of magic . So shocked was he by the appearance of the device, he didn't even begin fighting until it was already too late.
Gordon slipped the muzzle over his face and latched one of the buckles at the base of his neck before releasing Dean.
Lighting quick, Dean bound away. He only got maybe four or five feet before he was stopped. Brutally. He felt like he had run headfirst into a wall. The muzzle around his face snapped and Dean went down, all bambi-legs and weak joints. With a jerk backwards, he collapsed.
"YIP!"
With a muffled yelp that was extremely undignified, Dean got back to his feet and tried again.
And again.
And again.
"That's just sad, Dean,"
Dean could growl, but the effect was severely dampened by the muzzle clamping down on his jaw and the panting and the shaking. He turned to see Gordon right where he had left him. Sitting on the floor, an arm slung over his knee as he watched Dean heave. It was then that Dean noticed that there was no lead. No chain. There was nothing connecting Dean's muzzle to anything.
Sitting down on his haunches he tried to use his front paws to tear the muzzle off, but he couldn't. The lack of thumbs was really hurting his chances of escape.
:What the fuck is this?: He demanded, not expecting any response.
Gordon's eyes lit up, though, and Dean's heart sunk.
"There we go," The man said, with a bright smile. "Little weird, I'll admit. Can you and Sam do this?"
:You can... hear me?:
The place inside him that felt settled with Sam felt conflicted and extremely off. Like something had been shoved into his chest and was sitting there, not unlike a small fat little man. An alien.
"I can hear you," Gordon confirmed. "The muzzle allows for a... temporary connection."
And Dean was fucking terrified now.
Gordon was inside his head .
With the muzzle on, Dean couldn't fight back. He was still in shock and shaking, too, when Gordon stepped towards him and then pulled him to the next room by his collar, where his new cage lay. As a dog, Dean was physically weaker than just about any human. Gordon was like superman. Completely impossible to run or struggle away from. It didn't mean he had to make it easy for him to move him, though. Dean wanted to rip someone's throat out as he dug his heels in and Gordon dragged him all the way over to the extra large doggie-crate.
:You're a fucking psycho, : Dean told him as he was bodily thrust into the crate.
The man was kind enough to provide him with an old blanket that smelled like a mix of old-people, cologne, and straw.
"And you're a dog." Gordon replied.
That was going to get old quick, Dean thought only to himself. : What's your plan now? Huh? :
"Well, now that your brother isn't coming here, I'm going to have to go out to look for him."
:Oh, and leave me here, huh?; Dean asked, lips parted as much as possible in a snarl. :You're already not getting best pet-owner of the year award. Animal abuse has got to be on that list as a no-go."
"Of course I'm not leaving you here," Gordon's smiles, Dean decided, were the worst part about the man. "You told your brother the address after all. You both are still connected too, so if he come in range you can just warn him off. Of course, I'll get the warning, too, but that'll still be a pain in the ass."
Dean really, really hated that Gordon seemed to know so much about familiars, but he kept his mouth shut and turned around to settle into his new prison. With his butt facing Gordon, he hoped the man would understand that he was dismissing him.
And for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Dean allowed himself to really question how he got into these situations.
All he had wanted to do was see his brother. Now he was being dog-napped by a crazy man.
Oh how the universe turned, Dean thought with a deep sigh as he dutifully paid attention to Gordon's every action. Which started with him dismantling the traps. Then he moved on to packing up his knives and tools. He left the house for a moment, to transfer a load to his car, before returning. Then went the books, his pack, and something else that shifted like a heavy gym bag.
Dean was last.
"Alright Dean, you've got choices to make,"
The only indication that Dean was listening was his ears laying flat against his skull.
"First option: I move you, in the cage, to my car."
Dean winced. That would not be fun. And it would be humiliating. He was a person. And Gordon knew that.
"Second option: You come out, behave yourself, and you'll get the backseat all to yourself."
Immediately suspicious, Dean raised his head from his paws and craned his neck around.
:What's the catch?:
"No catch," Gordon promise. HIs heartbeat steady. His heart was always steady. It was what made him psychopathic. "You can't get farther than a couple feet from me, anyway. I won't even need a leash for you."
Dean almost wants to make him carry his ass, but he's a person, dammit. This isn't his first hostage situation.
Walking of your own volition was always better.
So he concedes to the second option. And true to what Gordon had said, he can't get any farther than five feet away from him. Gordon can walk away from him, and as long as Dean is standing still and not walking in the opposite direction, nothing happens to him. And he tries, often between the short distance from his cage to Gordon's car, to see how far he could push everything. The slower he goes, the less things jar, too.
"Done?" Gordon asks in amusement as he waits for Dean to come over to him.
:I should have bit you,: Dean told him as he steps into the car in front of Gordon.
"You really want to see me as an animal?" Gordon asked, with a brow raised. "Ten to one, if I even turned, I wouldn't be anything pleasant."
That's for sure , Dean thinks.
The back of the car is spacious. Maybe all backs of cars are spacious. Dean doesn't really remember that from his childhood, and that was the only time he would have been dean-doggie shaped. He obeys and lays down when commanded because he doesn't have a choice. Gordon is holding all the cards right now. And he knows it.
They set off to god-knows where. Dean doesn't know what Sam will find when he finally gathers up the courage to disobey Dean's order of 'run'. He doesn't know if Gordon has left a surprise, or if Sam will even come. He doesn't know what is in store for him, either. Gordon clearly wants him as his Familiar, but as long as he is operating under the misguided notion that Sam and Dean are bonded - Dean is safe. You can't be bound to two people, after all.
It's his only saving grace.
Gordon turns on some god awful pop-song, and Dean realizes that the torture had just begun.
Sam finally sucked up the courage the next morning to go to the address that Dean had told him about, with Ava in tow.
"The car's gone," is the first thing Ava says as they arrive on the abandoned property.
"There was a car in your vision?"
Ava nodded. "Right there," And she pointed where fresh tire tracks had sunk into the soil of the run-over asphalt.
It means Gordon is gone. It means Dean's gone.
"Fuck," Sam says, punching the side of the house. "What the hell?"
He doesn't enter the house. Dean would have called out for him in either form just hearing his voice. And if now, if someone still has a gun on him, Sam's got to play it safe. He decides, after a moment of juggling his phone and his keys, that calling Dean is the best bet.
It goes to voicemail the first time he calls, which is worrying enough, but Sam also knows that three phone-calls in is when he can reciprocate and actually leave a voicemail. He doesn't get that far. On the second time calling, one the second ring, someone picks up. Except it's not Dean.
"Heya Sammy,"
Sam freezes, because, he knows that voice.
"Gordon?" He asks, blinking back in shock. Ava is next to him, looking at him baffled. "Who's Gordon?"
"The one and only," The man on the other end confirmed. "Dean can't come to the phone right now, he's a little... tied up."
There is a low growl in response to that from what Sam has to assume is Dean. Sam stiffens. Dean in dog-form. Shit . Not only does Gordon have Dean, but he has Dean as a dog - which means he knows.
"If you hurt him..." Sam left the threat open ended for Ava's sake. Gordon would get it. The Winchesters were not known for their mercy, even without their father. And when you went after one of their own... Creative was just on way to describe how they would deal with you.
" I'm not going to hurt him, Sam ," Gordon tells him. It's not much of a relief. "He wasn't my target to begin with. He's just the bait. You can imagine my... anger when he warned you to run."
Him? Gordon had napped Dean because of Sam? It was like his worst nightmare come to life.
"What the fuck, Gordon?" Sam demanded. "We're all on the same side here. What did I ever do to you?"
"It's not what you've done, it's what you're going to do."
Sam froze.
No , he decides , this is worse than his worst nightmare. This is his absolute worst future.
"Let my brother go," Sam ordered him.
Ava's eyes grew large as her hand came up to her mouth in shock.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen."
"Gordon - "
"In three hours you are going to meet me at the warehouses off twenty six."
Gordon is a fucking asshole.
He kept Dean in that stupid dog-crate the entire time he talks to Sam. Close enough that whatever sounds he made would cross the phone, but unable to actually communicate. It was a specific kind of torture that Dean didn't think most people capable of, but Gordon had long ago crossed the line into Monster in Dean's mind.
The second the muzzle came off, he was tearing the man's throat out.
"Well, Dean, looks like you'll get to see your brother one last time," Gordon said as he returned Dean's phone to his inner jacket pocket. "Then we can get on with the rest of our lives."
Ears cocked back, head firmly on his paws, not looking at him once, Dean replied.
:If you think it's going to be that easy, you're dead wrong.:
"Not even you Winchesters can survive a headshot," Gordon said, leaning back against the bed.
He gets the bed and Dean gets the cage.
:Do I have to be in this fucking crate?: Dean demanded, feeling claustrophobic and a little unstable. He knew even if he wanted to, being a human at the moment was completely beyond him. He wasn't sure if it was because of how exhausted his battery was or because of the muzzle. :You've got a damn muzzle on me. I can't hurt you with it on. I can't escape, either.:
Gordon seemed to be thinking that over, before he shrugged. "You're right."
He got up and unlatched the crate.
Dean waited a second for Gordon to back off before he dipped out of the crate and went to settle himself on the bed. He made sure to take over at least three-quarters of the surface area, to force Gordon into a smaller area. It was petty, but Dean couldn't exactly kill the man. Not yet at least. Without hands Dean was at a severe disadvantage. Supernaturally heightened senses helped for prep and ruining plans, but for actually escaping or attacking - it was pretty useless.
Gordon raised a brow, amused, as he walked off. "Don't move," He told Dean.
:Wasn't planning on it, : Dean confirmed.
As long as the muzzle was on his face, he couldn't do a damn thing. He could plan, and think of how to stop Gordon, but he couldn't do anything. The only things he knew about Gordon's plan was a location, a time, and the explicit threat of being 'shot to the face'.
So a gun. Gordon was going to use a gun. Sam knew how to hide behind things. Dodging. He'd been shot before. A headshot was new, but Sam never got into those kinds of situations... So if Gordon was so sure...
Dean froze. Sniper. He was going to snipe him.
Fucking hell. Dean closed his eyes and melted into the couch in defeat. If Gordon keeps far enough away, with the fact that Dean couldn't leave his side; Dean wouldn't even be able to warn his brother. If Gordon planned it right, which Dean was sure he was probably doing right now, then his brother was screwed.
Fuck. What could he do?
Stretching his paws and his toes, Dean rolled onto his back to think. Gordon wanted one thing: Sam dead. All because of some demon and his 'Roadhouse' connections. No. Wait. that wasn't right, there was something else he wanted.
He wanted Dean as his Familiar. No matter that he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.
Damn it all. Damn it all to hell and back.
He was going to have to distract Gordon with himself.
That was one thing Dean never thought he would have to do. It felt close to actually selling himself. Which wasn't far off the mark, but it seemed... wrong. If he was going to sell himself off, it should be for a reason not life-threatening. Wait. No that's wrong. Do whatever you can to survive. It's a motto he's lived with for forever. This isn't the worst thing he's done and it won't be the last thing he does.
At least it was for Sam.
Resolutely he got off the couch and swore to himself that Sam would never know.
He found Gordon in the next room. The motel wasn't big, but there was a divide between the kitchen and the living area that he passed over. Gordon was sitting at the table, with the Familiar book out in front of him, lounging in his chair. Dean's nails made a clicking noise as he entered into the kitchen tile area which destroyed any element of surprise he had been going for.
The man didn't say anything, just turned from the book to look at him, a brow quirked.
:I'm bored.: Dean told him, tail tucking a little. Like he was ashamed to admit it.
Gordon stared at him.
"You can't be serious."
:You try being a dog for days on end,: Dean growled at him, ears back. :I don't have hands . I can't do anything.:
"And that's my problem?"
: You're the one who muzzled me. You're the one who wants a familiar,: Dean snorted. :What you think it's all just rainbows and sunshine and powerups?:
"You are aware I'm going to kill your brother in four hours?" Gordon said, staring at Dean like he was the crazy one.
Who the fuck just brings that up? Was Gordon soft in the head?
Ears back, Dean snarled at him. :I said I was bored, not ready to fucking bond with you. You're still an asshole. A murderous, traitorous asshole. Unfortunately, I can't kill you. And I'm bored. Who better to bother than my captor?:
Gordon pushed the book away and turned his full attention to Dean. "Alright. So you're bored. What do you want to do?"
: I don't know. Bother you? : Dean told him, with a doggie-smirk. He took that moment to jump onto the other chair across from Gordon at the table. : What are you even doing? :
Gordon had on a kind of wistful smile as he pulled the book back. Then he grabbed onto the arm of the chair that Dean was sitting on and pulled him over. The screeching of the chair made Dean shake his head to rid his ears of the static caught within, but once he was done with that, Gordon had pushed the book in front of him.
"This is the first book on Familiar's I translated," He told Dean. "It explained what exactly Familiars were, how to bind them, the basics."
: This is what lead you to choose not to kill me? : Dean asked, nosing at the book. It smelled like the muzzle did. Magic. Old. But more like a book than leather. Old trees made the paper. Not human skin.
"Familiars are shapeshifters, but unlike actual Shapeshifters who steal people's identities, you only have one form," Gordon opened the book to a page that showed a sketch of a man and all around the man were animals of all shapes and sizes. An elephant, a bat, a dog, a cat, a rat, a hawk stood out to Dean.
:And?:
"I'm a Hunter of Monsters." Gordon claimed. "Hunting animals is for survival. And I don't hunt dogs."
:I have just as much potential to kill someone as any other monster, so why me? Hmm?:
"Because you're a Hunter, too."
Dean glared at him. : And that just makes it fine? Me being a Hunter changed your mind about killing me but you won't budge on Sam?:
Gordon's stupid heartbeat never wavered or quivered. It was steady. A background noise that Dean was quickly becoming familiar with. How ignorant must you be to have such beliefs? To believe you are the end all, know all, about any subject?
"You're cursed," Gordon said, jaw tight. "Sam's damned." Taking a hold of a page and turning it, he added. "There's a difference."
There was a tense moment of silence as Dean stared at Gordon and Gordon stared at Dean.
: You're a fucking psychopath .: Dean told him, slumping in the chair.
"Pot," Gordon said, with a smug smile. "Kettle. And I never claimed not to be. I know what I am. I know what you are. Sam... Sam is something nobody knows what he is."
For once, Dean agreed with him. He would never tell him as much, but he agreed nonetheless. You could agree with someone on everything but one subject and be the best of enemies, still. That was something his father had always told him, and something Dean would take to the grave.
:He's human where it matters,:
"No," Gordon shook his head. "He isn't."
Then he cut that particular conversation topic down to size by switching topics.
"Now, Familiars are only as strong as the animal they are. Otherwise, they are either human or their animal. You're barely supernatural. There is a reason that you're only considered dangerous when you have a Witch. What's interesting is that the Hunters who already knew about familiars told me they didn't actively hunt familiars. There was no use. Familiars could be anything, anyone, and nobody could tell the difference. Plus, as long as there was no Witch involved, familiars liked to keep to their own circles. Hunters didn't bother Familiars. Familiars didn't bother Hunters."
Gordon smiled a sharky smile.
"Now, with this book, we've got the upperhand."
Oh, God, Dean's heart sunk as he started putting together the pieces. He wasn't just here to kill Sam and take Dean as his Familiar. Dean was just a bonus. Gordon had already planned to share these spells to see a Familiars' aura with other Hunters.
Familiars would be dragged into this Hunter/Supernatural war just like everyone else.
Except, there was a lot more potential for abuse. Dean knew he had the will to say 'no' to anybody and everybody when it came to bonding. But what about a kid? What about a newly bitten human who was confused and scared and trapped? God. Would Hunter's force people to take the bite? Would this open up a new can of worms of Hunters messing with Witchy things and spells and curses?
Dean stared, unseeing at the book that Gordon was gleefully talking about.
Dean thought of Irene. Thought of what he'd been told about familiars by her and by Tanner. For a split second, he felt connected to every other familiar in the world. They were... his people in a way. And Gordon wanted to enslave them all. The good, the bad, everyone.
This couldn't be allowed to go any farther. He just... it couldn't.
If Gordon had even a chance of escaping Dean before, it was gone now. He needed to be destroyed. That book needed to be... hidden. The Familiars of the world who were just living their lives, trying to eek by in their simple existences, needed to be protected. They were basically humans.
Dean would know.
The big break in Dean's planning escape and killing Gordon came as he realized that he could hide his inner voice from Gordon. It was an accident. Dean was just complaining to himself like usual, bitching about everything under the sun in a bit to annoy Gordon, when Gordon made the comment:
"You're awfully quiet."
:Quiet?: Dean thinks, glaring at him, thinking he's yanking his tail. : Seriously ?:
But then he smelled that Gordon was serious. He was staring at him confused, which was an expression that Gordon didn't actually portray all that well.
:You can't hear me? : Dean said, thinking of also not talking to Gordon.
He was rewarded with Gordon's severe frown. His confused scent not dispersing.
"Fine, silent treatment." Gordon said, with a shrug. "I get it."
And a plan bloomed in Dean's mind.
At three o'clock, Sam showed up to the warehouses knowing that Gordon had something planned. He already knew, logically, that the man wanted him dead. Why else would Ava have a dream about him dying? Why else would he escape it by not going to the house when Dean warned him off?
Sam had few choices, really, so here he was.
Gordon hadn't given him an exact place, and warehouses were large areas in general. Hell, he could walk around for an hour before finding the man, but knew that wouldn't happen. Gordon was waiting from him. Somewhere.
"Anytime you want to warn me what I'm walking into, Dean," Sam whispered to himself.
But Dean didn't come popping into his mind, his voice was silent. Just like it had been for weeks.
And it was all Sam's fault.
If he hadn't run away from his brother. If he hadn't gotten hurt over a final secret Dean their father had shared, and that Dean had decided to share with him. If he hadn't pushed Dean away. If he hadn't come to Lafayette Indiana. If, if, if. Sam had never been the kind of person to worry about the 'what if's', but then again Dean had never been taken by a crazy Hunter for some nefarious reason before.
:Don't react.:
It took everything within Sam to continue walking. Even more so to keep his face pulled into a frown.
:Touch the side of your face if you hear me.:
Sam did.
:Thank God,:
:Listen, okay, don't talk. Don't react. Just listen. Gordon doesn't know our range,: Dean told him. :He's... fuck I have a lot to tell you and not a lot of time. So listen, closely.:
Sam paused in his walk to pick his phone from his pocket. Giving Dean a chance to tell him more.
:We are located on the east-side on a large green crate. It's the highest point in the entire place. Gordon has a sniper-rifle and he is out for your blood, Sam. When I tell you, you have to duck. Try and keep close to something you can dive behind for cover - understand? No. Don't let me know. You better understand. Up here, he's got the high ground - you have to wait for him to leave his post. This is the important part. Do not, and I repeat, do not move from your spot of cover until I tell you that Gordon is moving. He is ready. He is willing. He will wait hours, got it?:
Sam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Jesus Christ, Dean," He breathed.
:I heard that...: Dean doesn't sound amused, but there is relief there. :God, it's good to see you, Sam.:
"Wish I could say the same," Sam frowned.
:Gordon is a fucking psychopath. He thinks if he kills you he can bind me to him.:
Brow furrowing, facing to the west, so that he knows Gordon can't see his face he asked. "Can he?"
Dean's silent.
"Moving on, that's not the only reason he wants me dead,"
Sam knows Dean had been on the other end of that phone call. Knew he heard what Gordon had said.
:No, it's not. : Dean confirms.
For a few seconds it's silent.
:He's setting up .: Dean tells Sam.
Sam's heartbeat picks up its pace. Gordon is setting up, aiming at the back of his head. In a minute, he'll be diving behind cover to wait out the man. The only thing that will stop a bullet landing home in his brain is the fact that Dean is going to be warning him moments before it happens. Maybe even sooner. Hell, Sam doesn't know. Is there a lag in their mind communication?
"Why can't I just hide now?" Sam asks.
:Because he'll just wait however long it takes. He's told me the whole plan, only because he doesn't realize how far away you and I can talk,:
"Thank God for small mercies, huh?"
:... He's got this book on Familiars, Sam. He knew things about us that not even Tanner knew...:
That was a worry for another day.
"He hasn't hurt you, right?"
:No... but he has this muzzle. It's keeping me a dog and won't let me to go more than five feet from him. If I try to leave him it's like running into a brick wall.:
Sam closed his eyes, sucking in a startled breath.
"How'd he find you?"
:The book has a spell for seeing auras. Apparently, " He said sarcastically. "A familiar aura is distinct enough that it comes through in our human and animal forms. He came looking for you, but he found me instead.:
"What?"
:He was going to try and kill you, but then he realized what I was."
"Wait." Sam was confused. "How?"
:From a lot of really random information,:
"Like what?"
:... He had a picture of me. Said he had 'Roadhouse connections'.:
Even Sam could hear the quotation marks.
"Shit."
:Yeah. :
So Gordon knew about not only Dean, but also about Sam. About Sam and the other kids the demon had visited years ago. And he wanted to kill them for it.
"Alright. Got it."
Dean could only pray that Gordon couldn't see him. He already knew that he couldn't hear him, if he didn't want him to. Something that the muzzle apparently couldn't bypass. It still took into account the Familiars thoughts. It allowed private thoughts.
And now he knew he could speak to Sam without Gordon hearing.
Gordon had chained him up just out of reach of where Gordon was laying on the ground setting the sight on Sam. He had enough lead to see over the lip of the container but not any farther. He could maybe nip at the edge of Gordon's boot, but he couldn't stop him in any physical way.
:Stop this, please, : Dean broadcasted at Gordon. :You don't have to do this. You can just leave.:
Gordon was starting on his breathing. One deep breath after the next. Dean listened closely for any sign he was about to go. Any anticipation.
"You know I can't do that," Gordon said, on his next exhale.
And Dean knew the next one would bring a bullet to Sam's head.
: DUCK .: Dean snarled out, as loud as he could. He didn't care who he broadcasted to. Didn't care if Gordon heard. It would be better if he did hear.
The next second, a crack split the air.
Dean couldn't see Sam anymore from over the edge of the crate. For one agonizing second he thought he might have been too late, but then Gordon threw down his weapon and cursed like the Hunter Dean knew he was. Relief flooded Dean then and he sat onto his haunches, smug as could be.
Gordon kept his eyes on where Sam had ducked away, but based on his tensed shoulders, his hammering heart, and his scent of pissedUnhappyAngry he was not in the best mood.
"You can talk to him from this distance?" Gordon asked, voice tight. "And you can block me out, even with the muzzle?"
Dean didn't know why his questions suddenly made him nervous. The answer made itself known as Gordon turned from his weapon to Dean. There was something new in Gordon's eye that hadn't been there before. It was like greed and lust all mixed up. Want. A deeper want than Dean had thought Gordon had had inside him before.
Dean took an unsure step back, trying not to make it seem unstable.
"You're brother is a dead-man walking, Dean," Gordon said, getting back down to his weapon. "You might want to make peace with that."
:Fuck off. : Dean snarled at him.
But Dean was worried.
Gordon had wanted him before, but now there was a new level, a new depth.
And it freaked Dean the fuck out.
They were in a stalemate for three hours, well into evening. Dean was to the very end of his lead, as far away from Gordon as he could get, because the man had steadily gotten weirder. He would make little comments about what they could accomplish together, what being bound to him would entail. He would tell stories. He would gloat.
He reminded Dean of John and that made it worse.
:I'm ripping his throat out, : Dean told Sam, each time Gordon made him feel even more uncomfortable. : You better not stop me.:
"I know," He heard as a whisper from Sam. "And you won't get any complaints from me. I won't stop you."
That didn't necessarily make Dean more likely to kill Gordon slowly, but it certainly made him consider it. To slowly rip his throat out, latch on and make him wish he'd never even heard the word Familiar.
"You warned him I'd be willing to wait the whole night, didn't you?" Gordon asks, but it's an answer he already knows and Dean's not about to break his silence to tell him so. Gordon sits up and stretches, and then sits on the edge of the crate with a thoughtful expression on his face.
Dean's ears perked and his nose twitched, ready to catch the moment inspiration struck.
:He's... thinking.:
"... What the fuck does that mean." Sam whispered over the wind.
:I don't know. Nothing good.:
Gordon sat on the edge of the crate for a few long minutes. Then without any warning, he rose.
"Alright, let's go."
Dean blinks at him. Gordon started putting his gun away, dismantling it piece by piece. Getting to his feet, but keeping his distance, Dean stretches feeling back into his limbs as he watches him wearily.
:Go where?: Dean asks, relieved despite himself. : I know for a fact you haven't killed my brother.:
"He'll keep." Gordon claims, as he shuts his case. "You on the other hand... well, I need to get you someplace I can take that muzzle off. I hear it chafes."
Wait. What?
The muzzle did chaff, but that was beside the point.
Heart beating louder now, Dean skitters to the edge of the crate, as far as the leash will allow him. :You can't be serious.:
"I came here to kill Sam," Gordon reminded him. "I'm not the only one who knows about your brother, Dean. Someone else can kill him. Then you'll still eventually be un-bound, and I'll still get you as a familiar. Not the best outcome, but I'm man enough to admit I can live with that."
:You're not leaving here alive, you gotta realize that - surely?: Dean asks him wearily.
"I'm not dying tonight. Seems Sam isn't either."
:Sam, : Dean called for his brother hesitantly. :Gordon is - :
That's when the man moves. Lightening fast. Dean is faster, but the leash keeps him within striking distance within only a handful of huge steps. He feels the tug on his throat start to cut off his air even as he snarls as meanly as he can, but that doesn't deter Gordon in the least.
He's got in his hand another needle.
Oh fuck. This was not an outcome Dean had considered. He was muzzled, why drug him? Unless...
Gordon wanted him unconscious so he couldn't warn Sam.
He fought, as much as he could, but wiggling as Gordon bodily grabbed him and tucked him into the ground so he couldn't struggle or move wasn't working. Gordon barely had to use even one hand as the leash kept his head in place based on how he had been standing.
:I'm going under, Sam,: He told his brother as the needle pierced skin. : You're on your own.:
"What?!" Sam exclaimed, almost loud enough for it to carry across to human ears.
The drug is that same quick acting stuff that Gordon had used before. Its worse because he's apparently freakin' susceptible to most drugs now on a ridiculous level.
Dean only has a chance to realize he's screwed, so utterly fucking screwed if Sam doesn't save him. He's terrified and he's not afraid to admit it. His blood has frozen as his limbs turn into jello. As he begins to lose consciousness the last thing he sees is Gordon petting him fondly on his neck. It's creepy. It makes his skin crawl, and not just because of the creep-factor, but because the small bond he and Sam share considers that WRONG .
The last thing he thinks is that he is petrified without the drug. He's never been this afraid. It's helplessness mixed with despair and terror that he can't help his brother and what if Sam dies and would that really be enough to bind Dean to Gordon? Even if they didn't have a bond?
He prays to God that he wakes up out of this man's hands.
The last sound he hears from Sam is:
"Fuck."
As soon as Sam loses that connection with Dean's mind, he leaves his cover. After so long just sitting, talking with Dean, that this could be the ultimate ending... He can't see all that well in the dark, but Dean had told him the direction, he just had to listen carefully and stop Gordon before he made off with his brother.
He feels sick with worry. Terrified he's not going to be in time, that he won't be strong enough, that Gordon will be quicker and take off with his brother. There are too many thoughts in his mind and he has to take a calming breath as Sam takes as long a route around as he can.
His ears are strained to their human limit, but he hears nothing.
For as big as the area around the warehouses is, he doesn't hear a single thing for five minutes. Just his own breathing which had settled down and the occasional misstep.
He becomes aware of a more labored breathing, soft at first and then picking up in loudness as he came closer.
Barely believing it, Sam hears Gordon speak.
"Heavy son of a bitch, aren't you?" It's a muttering, but it's loud enough that Sam hears it.
Sam freezes. That's Gordon alright.
And it seems, but the way he's breathing heavily, that he's carrying Dean.
"Who would have thought a dog this small would weigh so much. We'll have to put you on a diet, Deano."
Sam can't believe his luck. He's automatically suspicious. There is no way that Gordon, kidnapper of his brother, is right around the corner. That is just... That is not how life works. But sure enough, as Sam peeks over the side of the building, there stands Gordon with Dean in his arms, a little too floppy to be asleep and definitely drugged.
The man is frowning down at the dog in his arms as he walks towards the car.
Sam can't believe his luck, but he's not one to just pass up on perfect moments. Dean hadn't said anything about anyone else being in on this 'mission' of Gordon's, and that's a small mercy, because Sam's not sure if he could take out two Hunters, let alone Gordon. By himself he's just one person.
He's usually got Dean as backup.
Sam doesn't think of that as he pulls his pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and gets ready to go after his brother. He doesn't think of the million in one ways Gordon can have backup. He doesn't think of how suspicious everything had just gotten. He barely begins to think about anything but how good it's going to feel when he punches Gordon in his stupid face.
Sam waits for Gordon to put Dean into the trunk of his car and make his way back around the car before he does anything.
Gordon pulls out his cell phone and Sam knows he has to act before he can relay any information. Still, he's a little slow and Gordon's contact that he dials answers on the first ring.
"I've got the Familiar - his brother is - "
Sure enough, it does feel good when he shoots the man in his chest, missing and hitting his arm instead. The blow hits Gordon and the man whirls and jumps to the side, even in his shock he's quick. The cellphone is clutched in his hand.
"Gah!" He snarls as he, too, reaches for his own weapon. But Sam has the upperhand.
"Stop!" Sam orders, keeping his gun up and aimed towards the bastards face. The man freezes into a statue. "Make one more move and you're dead -"
The freezing was just a ploy and faster than Sam can track the man moves.
Gordon reached for something in the back seat and Sam fired.
Gordon fell to the ground. Cursing up a storm. Sam's aim was better the second time, and he'd gotten him in the leg.
"You fuck! Fucking fuck!"
Sam wants to ignore the felled body of Gordon and go straight for Dean, but he remembers the phone. He snatches it up, but the number Gordon had called, the person on the other end, was gone. Quickly pocketing the phone, Sam turned to Dean. Who's still got a muzzle on and is still down for the count and drugged all because of Sam.
"I'm going to enjoy this, Gordon," Sam said, as he turned to Gordon on the ground, crawling for his own supplies in the back of his car.
Sam hefts the gun. Stares down his sights at Gordon and his bloody mouth, his bloody teeth bared in a snarl. And he -
He can't do it. He's not a murder. Just like he had said.
"You're a traitor to your own kind, Sammy," Gordon snarled. "You've got to be taken out! If we don't then - "
Sam curb stomped him into the ground. Which shut him right up. The force and the angle, knocked him unconscious. Sam wasted little time in getting Dean, throwing a fair amount of Gordon's weapons in his duffle bag at the unconscious man's feet, before he started driving off - phone against his ear.
"Yeah? 911 I got an emergency all right, me and my buddies were down at the _ and some asshole keeps waving a gun and claiming there are monsters... yes... uh huh... yeah scared the crap out of us - no I ain't waiting! We're getting out of dodge!"
And then shut the phone and threw it out the window.
Dean comes to slowly. It's disorienting, being drugged. Like being kicked in the balls.
Would not recommend, Dean thinks dry-mouthed, before he realizes what the last thing he could remember was.
Gordon. Going after Sam. Being drugged so Dean couldn't warn Sam. The terror. The helplessness. Gordon's smug smile.
Dean doesn't even think about it as he jerked upright, moving faster than he should, much too soon, his eyes snapping open wildly. The world tilts on its axis, and his stomach flips but it doesn't matter. He can't see. It's all fuzzy blurry shapes. The smells are all confusing, too. Motel, old cotton, musty, moldy -
There is a hand on his back. It was familiar. Unfortunately, a little too familiar. It could easily have been Sam, but Dean remembers the last hand to touch him as Gordon's. He growls low, a snarl that builds in the back of his throat and is menacing . He's two seconds away from snapping with teeth and claws. On the verge of a panic attack, Dean physically flinches back when a voice cuts through all the noise of the world.
"Hey, whoa, easy there,"
It's Sam's voice. Dean's whole entire body relaxes hearing it, the snarl dies in his throat, and Dean nearly cried right then and right there.
Dean lurches into a sitting position, which is more laying as a dog, even with Sam's hands trying to gently hold him down.
: Sammy !: It burst out of his chest like a laugh. :Y ou're okay !:
Then Dean realizes he's still a dog.
Oh well. Nothing for it.
Shaking his head to get rid of the rest of the cobwebs in his brain, Dean looked at his brother for the first time in weeks. He'd only been able to see the faint Sam-shaped outline in the distance when Gordon had gotten ready to shoot him. Luckily, Sam hasn't changed, except for maybe the bags under his eyes, like he's been on a long hunt. Dean feels weak, tired, and drained; but he's the happiest he's been in months.
"Hey Dean," Sam has a smile on his face, too. "And you're okay."
Even exhausted, Dean managed to throw himself into Sam's lap, wiggling until he's as close as he can be. The smell of Sam is calming. It's like a nice long bath after a hard fight. Soothes his muscles, physical and mental. The feeling of Sam solid and warm beneath him grounds Dean in a way he didn't know he was looking for. Didn't know he missed. It was the same as when he first heard Sam's voice in that dinky motel room a lifetime ago.
He feels complete.
Sam doesn't hesitate to return the sentiment, arms winding their way around Dean's entire body and crushing him to his chest. There is the tiniest, littlest shaking in his arms, and Dean knows that Sam needed this just as much as he did.
Dean doesn't think of this as weird. The hugging. The touchy-feely. He might, later, but right now he's just happy to have his his brother back. His person. And his dog-familiar-brain is mostly forefront. Touch, feel, smell, hear - that's all Dean wants to do to assure himself that this is real, and not a dream, and Gordon doesn't still have him -
And Dean's human thought's came right back to the forefront of his mind.
: What happened ?: Dean asked, face mushed somewhere between Sam's armpit and collarbone.
"Gordon drugged you and I caught him unaware."
:He's dead, right?:
Sam hesitated but shook his head.
"I couldn't do it," Sam denied. "I just - He kept saying I was a killer and I couldn't prove him right,"
Dean stays silent for half a second.
:He says other Hunters know about Familiars. Other's know about you. And me. So it wouldn't have mattered,:
Sam's hand pets down his neck. When Gordon had done it, it had made him feel dirty. Unlike Sam's hand which is familiar and welcome.
"Just means we have to lay low for a while."
: Oh now you want to go on vacation, : Dean teased, feeling good to be able to do so.
It had been a while. He hadn't even realized how much he missed it until he was in his brother's arms and prickling him with a stick just to get a rise. They sit, quiet, and just kind of soak each other up. Dean needs the comfort and the human contact especially to recharge his battery; and Sam is still reeling from how close he had been from losing Dean.
They sit that way for a while.
Dean asks, again, feeling itchy. Unfinished business makes him feel that way a lot. :Gordon's gone though, right?:
"Yes," Sam huffed. "I already told you that. I called the police on his ass, and I listened to the radio as they brought him in. Not the first time he was wanted for something,"
:Just making sure...:
Sam nodded. Hand stroking down Dean's flank.
: Did you find what you went looking for? : Dean asked, nearly a whisper in their conjoined mind-space.
Sam's quiet.
Did he? He wondered. In some ways, yes. In others, no. It just wasn't what he thought it was supposed to be. He was still no closer to finding out why the hell the demon had done this to him and the others like him, but he figured out other things. Like what being alone without family really felt like. Knowing that this time he'd left with worse bad-feeling than last time and no father to come back to. That there the other's like him weren't inherently bad. He knew that, logically, but every time he met one that was decent he was shocked and surprised.
"I don't know," Sam admitted.
They don't separate for another ten minutes, and then only because Sam's stomach growls and Dean's follows, realizing its hungry too. Knowing he won't be able to muster up the energy to transform, Dean stresses they better be eating at a dog-friendly place. Sam gives him one of those hurt-puppy faces because he knows he's at least at little at fault for that. It doesn't last long, though.
"I still think we should get you a service-dog vest," Sam smiles, a shit-eating-grin at him as they lock up and walk to the car.
:Bite me, : Dean snorts at him.
With Sam it's teasing and in jest, but Dean remembered saying those words to Gordon and meaning every single word. Dean shakes his head to rid himself the mental images and feelings that crawl over him like insects. It's better to just forget. And Dean is very good at repressing.
Dean smells it before he sees it.
:What's that?: He asks as they come closer to the Impala. It smells of magic, and old wood, and musty-oldness.
"I emptied Gordon's truck..." Sam told him, opening the door. "Took everything he had."
In the backseat is a pile of books, each one more faded and worn than the last. The Muzzle Dean had been captured in was wrapped in a walmart baggie, but the smell lingered. There were a few other things, too. A leash, what looked like an embroidered box, black candles, a bleached white cloth, and something wrapped carefully in what smelled like dried, tanned skin. There is also a few bags full of Gordon's weapons that are stashed under their chairs, but it's the books and the other stuff that hold Dean's attention.
:This was all of it?: Dean asked.
"Yeah, why?" Sam looked over all the stuff quickly. "Did I miss something? Is there more?"
Dean tried to think back to the motel room, but he didn't remember half the stuff he was seeing in the backseat.
:I have no clue.: Dean admitted with a sigh. :He had a motel room, and I have no clue if he left anything there. I don't think so though. I got the impression he wasn't planning to stay in town for very long.:
The Familiar tried, and failed, to contain the shiver at that. Phantom fingers dragged through his fur as he remembered how creepy Gordon had been. He didn't even want to entertain the thought of what would have happened had he succeeded and actually murdered his brother. Being bound to a man who should have been the mirror of Dean was just... it was not a thought he wanted to think.
"Bastard," Sam told him. There was no pity, but sympathy.
: Idiot bastard,:
"Idiot Bastard," Sam conceded.
Sam ruffled Dean's head-fur fondly to push him forward into the car, then he closed the door when he was fully seated and went to the drivers side. Once they both were situated and out onto the road, Dean stuck his head out the window and the joy of it all was clear to see. Sam let the tension go in his shoulders and relaxed, turning up the radio, as they went.
It just so happened to be playing: Renegade.
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