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.
Thanks to everyone for reviewing! I'm glad you guys like the story line, when I have time I can individually respond to the comments but right now thanks to all!
MAJOR PROPS AND THANKS TO MY BETA SIERRA NICOLE! BEST BETA EVER! WISH YOU LIVED CLOSER SO I COULD TAKE YOU TO GARTH BROOKS 'CAUSE I GOT GARTH BROOKS TICKETS!!!!
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."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
…
Chapter Twenty One: Push A Little Harder
"Don't think there are no crocodiles when the water is calm."
-Malayan Proverb
…
Celia lifted her head proudly.
"Red, I think you're really hurt, you could permanently damage your knee." Dean protested. "Never ride again, for one stupid show you don't even want to do."
"My knee's already permanently damaged, been that way for eighteen years. I've learned to suffer with it." Celia growled matter-of-factly. "If I let it stop me I'd been sittin' on my ass gainin' weight all that time."
"That doesn't mean you should over extend yourself." Dean sniped back, glad to have something as firepower against her.
"I think I'm aware of my own limits, Dean." Celia sniffed and hefting up two of the folding chairs and walking back around the front of the truck. Dean couldn't help the ways his eyes could on focus on the distinct, strained limp in her step. The elder Winchester growled in frustration and grabbed the other chair and empty cooler. Celia was unfolding one chair and setting it up next to the plastic tubs of equipment, from where it was someone sitting in it could easily see the truck, trailer, the stalls and horses and down the dirt track in the park grounds. There was no way for someone to sneak up on that position unless it came from directly above, below or behind. The second chair and third set up a small semi circle so all angels were covered. Dean turned back to grab the cooler of food, setting it down between the second and third chair, the empty one a few feet in front of the first one. Alamo hefted himself up to his paws and stiffly walked over to settle between the first and second chair, grunting himself back to sleep.
"Red-" Dean started.
"Sammy!" Celia called, making the other brother jerk around and look at her, Cottoneye Cloud took the advantage and slobbered happily all over Sam's shoulder, neck and hair.
"Shit!" The younger Winchester leapt back rubbing his hand across the saliva.
"Sammy, run an errand for me." Celia dug into her pocket, extracted a thin wallet and slipped out thirty dollars. "Go find a guy named Bud Miller, give him this and order a number two." She held up two fingers handing him the money, "Say thanks, bring back what he gives ya and give it to me. Don't question it, just do it."
Sam clearly bristled at that order. "But-"
"Sammy, just do it." Celia said, calmly and clearly.
The rebellion still burned in Sam's eyes but he started back down the dirt track towards the grounds.
"What was that?" Dean asked roughly. Celia only sighted and fell heavily into one of the chairs, lifting her legs stiffly up off the earth and setting them on top of the empty cooler.
"Y'all thank me later, I swear." She tugged her hat down over her eyes and leaned back as if to take a nap. Dean shifted, unsure what to do, his used his foot to nudge open the cooler of food and peer inside. With a slight shrug and a glance at Celia he reached in and pulled out a package of the same trail mix Celia had given him on the patrol ride, he dug out a chunk of crystallized honey, stuck it into his cheek and started to suck on it, setting himself into another of the chairs, making himself comfortable.
"You awake?" He muffled out.
"Sorta." Celia mumbled back, shifting to cross her arms over her chest.
"Did you sleep at all last night?" He asked.
"Nope."
Dean waited for a second. "Do you need to sleep?"
"Dean, I'm human. I feel pain and happiness, I need to sleep, eat, use the bathroom, vomit, and a bunch of other bodily functions that normal humans do." Her tone was like a teacher explaining a rather simple concept to the only child in class that still didn't get it. "I can get drunk, sick, I have fears and anxieties and I can die naturally. And yes, sex ain't that bad, either."
"Alright, alright. Sorry." Dean growled.
"No yer not." Celia snapped back, the tension and standoffishness between them snapping sharply and loudly, like a breaking bone. "So quit apologizin'. It's pissin' me off."
"What do you want me to do then?" Dean snapped back, getting to his feet and crossing his arms defensively over his chest. Celia shoved her hat up out of her eyes and glared at him.
"I just told ya, quit apologizin' when ya don't mean it. Worse than lyin'." She snarled.
Dean bristled, glanced over his shoulder and noticed Sam starting back their way, his arms laden with a package.
"In the truck." Dean snarled.
"Fine." She was up in a second. Dean climbed into the passenger seat and Celia the driver's seat. They shut their doors and Dean swiftly pushed the mechanized locks to keep anyone from interfering. The two shepherds scrambled to their feet and looked longingly up at them, whining. Alamo only twitched his ears tiredly.
There was a second of absolute silence between Dean and Celia, as if checking to make sure they would not be heard. The tension boiling up in the second exploded the instant they knew they were in 'private'.
"Alright! I already fucking know that you're pissed at me because I can't remember anything!" Dean roared, his face creeping red in frustration, "But that's not my fault!"
"Ya did somethin'! Had to have! Ya and Sam! A huge part of yer life just doesn't up and melt for no reason!"
"Leave him out of this, this is about you and me!"
"Hard to leave him out! He's as guilty as ya are!"
"If you're so goddamn concerned about us remembering stuff then why don't you just tell us, out right! From the beginning! Why!?! Because it's 'not your place'!?!"
"No!"
"Then you can't bitch and moan and get mad at me because you're not helping me any to solve the problem! That's bullshit and you know it! It's not fair!"
"FAIR!?! Are ya fuckin' with me!?! With that fair shit!?! Ya think ya got it bad, ya still have Sammy! And yer Dad before he bit it! I lost my best friends and another father, my brother's spent most of the last five years in an outta the Middle East and I gotta take care of my Momma and sister! Can ya figure that when I get wind of ya comin', see ya sittin' there on the crossroads waitin' for help that I don't get this idea that maybe, just fuckin' maybe ya'd remember me and things could settle! Sorry if I get worked up at the idea that ya figured I dropped off the face of the earth! Worse! Ya don't even fuckin' know who I was! How the hell would ya like it if Sam and John took off and showed back up one day clueless as to ya were!?! Huh!?!"
"I didn't know I forgot you!"
She snorted, clearly disbelieving, looking away. Dean glanced down the dirt track and could see Sam heading up towards them, his eyes searching around for himself and Celia.
"Celia I swear to God that if I had any idea I had forgotten you don't you think for one second I wouldn't have tried my damndest to figure out how the hell it happened! And I'm sorry about what I said at the ranger station! I swear I am!"
It was the truth. Dean inwardly thanked his stars that Celia wasn't an ordinary person as she tried to make herself out to be. The demon within gave her an insight others would have brushed him off with a response alike to 'you're just saying that'. The way Celia bristled and dropped her eyes Dean knew that she could tell he wasn't lying. But old instincts die hard and Dean continued to press that he meant it.
"I swear." He said, in a calmer and hopeful tone. "I mean…goddamn it must be some hell kind of mojo to forget someone like you….you're…insane."
Celia sniffed, bristling just slightly, but Dean knew he was on the right track. He was searching every reservoir and trick his had when dealing with women, trying to find a way in same with any girl in a bar. But for Celia it was harder almost surgical. The broken bit of memory of Nathaniel's funeral, Sam offering to share John, it was all still raw, fresh in his mind, and he did and said everything gingerly.
"I can't understand why you're angry, not really. I know why but I can't understand it. I've never been in that position before."
Celia slumped a little in her seat and Dean pressed on, choosing his words carefully, trying to use terminology that he assumed Celia or another native of Nevada might use under that circumstances. He always tried to make the people around him feel more comfortable when he was talking to them. If it put the hint of a twang in his voice and picked up lingo then so be it.
"I can't solve the problem if I don't know what the hell I'm shooting at."
Celia sighed again; she licked her lips and slid lower in the seat until it was clear that she was uncomfortable. Dean sat up straighter and leaned over her a little.
"I'm sorry I freaked when I found out about the horns." He motioned at her ram's set. "I'm sorry I tore up your yard and cuffed you to a fence post, I'm sorry my brother and I are soaking up your time and energy, I'm sorry that I hurt your knee and for fighting with you in the ranger station and wearing your stupid coat, sorry that I'm as bullheaded as you are and being a complete ass, sorry for anything that I've done to stress you out in the last few days, sorry that I messed myself up-"
"Quit sayin' yer sorry." She muttered, shifting, looking even more uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry I forgot and left you here." Dean leaned lower, his face contorted with concern and a fine layer of inner turmoil. He swallowed, his throat dry. "I'm sorry."
She looked at him, his green eyes pleading and hopeful. She filled her chest as full as it could get, still her lungs didn't expand, like she had a huge stone tied to her ribs. Her mean streak revolted, roaring at her to stay pissed and go after him.
"Sorry." She said it in a bare whisper. "For what I've treated ya like…"
Dean smiled, the first genuine smile in a few days. He didn't hesitate, leaning over the arm rest and wrapping one arm tightly around her frame, pulling her as close to his chest as he could. Celia sighed, a deep release of strain and hugged him back. Her spine and muscles aching from the odd position flared with a little pain at being squeezed one armed by Dean but she suffered through it and held onto him as long as he held onto her. He finally pulled back, sitting back in the passenger seat and rubbed a hand lightly over her shoulder before loosing all contact.
"That was hard." Celia muttered.
"Tell me."
They snickered quietly once. Watching in silence as Sam strode into their little encampment and twisting his mop haired head around looking for them. The younger Winchester actually turned around a few times in place and called out. The sound muffled by the Silverado's frame.
"Five bucks say's he doesn't even look in the truck." Dean said with a small smile, sinking down a little in his seat to obscure himself from Sam's view.
"Done." Celia said, reaching across and they swiftly shook hands. Silence hung as they watched the younger Winchester actually start to pace around, still holding onto the package in his arms. Their eyes followed him as she strode right passed Celia's window and towards the trailer.
"Jesus help us, that poor child." Celia muttered and Dean snorted with a small smile in his lips. It faded.
"Help me. I want to know." His tone was borderline desperate. "I want to understand."
Celia sighed, her chest filling as far as it would go then collapsed again.
"We've done a lot of stuff, Dean. Thumpin' 'round the way we did and the kind of kids we were; there was a lot to do and we did it…stuff you can't do again. Can't get back."
Dean swallowed, wishing he knew what he'd missed. The little black outs of memory he'd been struck with now an again were comforting, nothing dangerous or warning like Sam's visions…except for the funeral. He'd felt physically sick for a little while after that one, the rush of emotion coming back to him with the fresh loss…
"Like what?"
They were quiet when they heard Sam's boots thudding loudly on the ramp of the trailer.
"Little things and big things…" Dean looked over, her eyes were a little unfocused, clouded, but there was reluctant tone in her voice.
"Embarrassing huh?"
"A lot of it." She muttered.
"C'mon, you're finally talking to me. Give me something." Dean coaxed, if he could he would have busted out the puppy eyes that Sam always used on him, but some people had the puppy eyes and some didn't. Dean didn't.
"Learnin' how to drive, huntin', game I mean, like buck, ya know…and the other kind of huntin' once or twice…just lots of first times."
Dean cocked his eyebrows at the stiff way she spoke, noticing a bare flush in her cheeks.
What the-
He was struck be a bolt of lightening and stiffened, his heart raced and he paled.
"Red, did I…" He swallowed again, "We…the first?"
She flicked her eyes at him once, no other movement in her frame, looking him straight through before looking forward again. It was more than enough.
"Oh my God." Dean covered his face with his hands. "Celia I'm sorry. You're first…"
"Goddamnit, I wasn't the only green one that night." Celia snapped sharply, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
Dean paled again, looking at her like a whole new animal. His first.
"I don't feel so good…" He muttered.
Celia bristled, "It wasn't that bad."
Dean jittered, "No?"
"No."
"How bad?"
Celia sighed, "Remember when you got on Chambeau yesterday for the first time, didn't know what the hell ya were doin' until you got a rhythm."
Dean nodded.
"Like that."
Dean felt his stomach churn. He tried to steer away from virgins, like a cardinal rule…a bendable cardinal rule especially if she was coming after him and was legal of course…he tried to avoid it, honestly. It's a bond that didn't break. Ever. And he didn't want to be 'that guy'. 'The First' was a label that some men strove for, but Dean didn't like the burden.
He could only look at the ceiling of the truck cab for a while. A weight on the silence between them.
"Jesus…" Dean let the word out like a binding curse, maybe a contract.
"You said that a lot."
Dean flinched and looked over at her, relaxing at the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. The tease was far more welcome than the silence.
"Shut up." He muttered, not able to help the smile.
"Vocal, real vocal." Celia muttered.
"God…"
"That was there, too."
"Stop it!"
Celia let it go…for a second of silence.
"Reminded me a howlin' dog."
"RED!" Dean covered his face and laughed into his palms. He decided to toy back a little, "I'm a hell of a lot better now." He purred out smoothly.
"Oh, was that an invite?" Celia pushed herself up to look at him a little. A laugh in her smile.
"You bring those magic hands and rub me down later and it's a date." Dean rumbled, his voice tinged with seduction that was almost drowned in his restrained laughter.
"Uh huh. Big man want's payment for services rendered, huh?" Celia snorted.
"This ain't free baby!" Dean barked, laughing almost uncontrollably. Celia waited until the fit had passed and Dean looked up at her with a small smile.
"Whore." She said and slid gracefully out of the truck, shutting the door and leaving Dean in practical hysterics. He dropped out of the truck, trying to recover.
"Finally." Sam snarled, walking around the trailer and truck towards them, still holding tightly to the package, a box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, it was balanced on a bag of ice cradled in his arms.
"Where's my money?" Dean barked at Celia, she dug into her pocket and extracted a five dollar bill from her wallet.
"Ya boys are expensive to have around." She muttered handing it to the elder Winchester. They ignored Sam's confused face as Celia lifted the box and ice from his grasp.
"Thanks, Sammy."
"Yeah." He muttered, rubbing his wrists and hands together, he blew into his palms to warm his chilled flesh. "What is that anyway? It was heavy."
Celia didn't answer, setting the box aside she pulled her bone hilt knife from her hip and sliced open the ice bag, she tipped a third of the contents into the empty cooler, then set it down, turned to the brown paper package and slice the string and through the paper, in a few seconds she's cracked open the cardboard box beneath and freed first one six pack of dark lager beer, then a second. She easily pulled the glass bottles free from the containers and tossed them into the ice.
"Put more ice in." She waved at Dean who was already in process of doing so, he was grinning at the close quarters with alcohol for the first time in several days. A third six pack of a different breed of beer, some kind of pale colored ale went into the cooler next and Dean poured in the rest of the ice at her command, kicking the top shut.
"You bought three six packs for thirty bucks?" Sam asked, twitching a little at the expense of the alcohol.
"Three six packs, a bottle of whiskey-" She tossed and amber filled glass bottle to Dean, "…bottle of tequila-" This glass container was tossed at Sam, "And a bottle of the Barguest's specialty Bru-ha." She held up an ornate glass bottle filled to the brim with a dark, umber colored liquid, no label at all. She swiftly cracked the top off and sniffed, then took a short draw.
Her face contorted with the strength but she seemed to enjoy every second of it.
"Stuffs bad ass." She muttered, holding it out to Sam.
"All that for thirty?" Dena asked, eyeing the Bru-ha with curiosity.
"I know a guy and have a tab." Celia shrugged, still holding the bottle towards Sam.
"You're drinking? You bought alcohol? Don't you have to go into the ring in an hour?" Sam asked, still eyeing the Bru-ha warily.
"Numbs the pain." Celia sighed, motioning towards her left knee and leg. Dean quickly slipped it out of Celia's grasp, he breezed it under his noise lightly, drawing in the sharp bite of the alcohol's scent. He looked at Celia tentatively then swiftly threw back a long draw of the drink before she could stop him. He jerked as if struck across the face, the drink burned and bit all the way down his throat and ignited like a napalm bomb in his gut, he shook his head, coughing.
"Goddamn." He muttered, struck by a violent, even crippling dizziness. He suddenly felt like he'd been set back half a week to the most severe hours of his heat stroke, the gut wrenching cough jerked in his chest and heat flushed his skin, he felt strung out all over again, unaware of his legs he physically collapsed, the bottle of whiskey and Bru-ha falling towards the earth.
"Dean!" Sam barked. Celia was already there; she deftly caught the bottle of Bru-ha in one hand and wrapped her free arm around Dean's waist. The whiskey thumped loudly in the grass, intact.
The elder brother scrambled, trying desperately to regain his feet.
Celia eased him down onto the grass; her face was lit with anger.
"Damn fool Winchester." She growled. "I said it was bad ass, don't ya listen."
"I don't feel good…" Dean muttered, he slumped back down to lie in the grass, he groaned sickly; thanking whatever god there was that the pain was starting to fade and the heat flood out of his shocked systems.
"What the hell is in that?" Sam snarled pointing at the offending bottle in Celia's hand and crouching next to his brother.
"Nothin' ya want to mix with what Dean's got!" Celia snapped back. Dean groaned, coughed a few times and rolled onto his side, towards Celia, until he was almost on his stomach. The elder Winchester buried his face into the ground, breathing in the sweet scent of grass and damp earth.
"Damn fool, sick as hell and drinkin' Bru-ha. Dean why don't ya just swallow cyanide? It'd be quicker ya know." Celia eased herself down to sit next to him; she set the offending alcohol aside and rested a light hand on the small of his back, moving in slow soothing circles. Dean shut his eyes, shivering a few times. He'd felt so good a few minuets ago, light hearted, he'd had solid food to eat and he was out in the world on his own two feet. It was like he had made a fatal mistake. He shivered, retching.
"Keep it down, it'll pass." Celia said, putting precise pressure on his spine. Dean felt his nauseous stomach settle and he breathed out in relief at Celia's assurance and slumped into the grass. He felt oddly safe with his brother on one side and the red eyed woman on her other.
"What the hell happened?"
Celia and Sam looked up to meet the eyes of Lynn Sheridan.
"He alright? Do ya need a medic?" She asked, stepping over quickly and yanking her head set down around her next and squatting next to them. Dean groaned sickly, Sam tensing when Lynn lifted one of Dean's eyelids open.
"He'll be fine, little alcohol poisonin'." Celia motioned towards the dark liquid.
"Too much to fast, huh? Thought ya were a big man?" Sheridan sniffed down at Dean; she only got a grunt in return.
"He's just getting' over heat stroke." Celia supplied. Sheridan nodded in understanding, looking at the bottle.
"Shit, is that Bru-ha?"
Celia nodded, "He slugged it."
Sheridan looked sympathetic for a few seconds then snatched the bottle from the earth and threw it back hard, practically inhaling the alcohol.
"Goddamn Lynn! I just got that!" Celia barked, yanking it away from the woman and spilling a little alcohol as it went. Celia snatched the lid from the grass and twisted it on, setting it well out of reach.
"I needed that." Sheridan muttered, wiping a hand across her mouth; shook herself once and rolled back her shoulders.
"Glad you enjoyed it." Celia growled. Dean twitched unhappily, breathe coming to ragged for comfort and Celia slid her hand up the back of the coat, under the fleece lined collar to the back of his neck and gently set to rubbing his spine.
"Back to business." Sheridan muttered, slipping her headphones back on. "Got yer list?"
"Uh…yeah, Sammy, grab that paper work out of the truck for me." Celia waved her hand in the general direction of the truck. Sam looked at Dean, making sure his elder brother was alright then setting the tequila aside rose to his feet and headed for the truck. He stepped back with the sheets of paper that Sheridan had given them an hour before, handing them over to Celia and taking her place next to Dean as she stood, took the clipboard and pen from Sheridan and swiftly filled out the schedule, signing it a few times and then handed it back. Sheridan skimmed it as Celia dug into her pocket for her wallet.
"This it? Where are the other events?" Sheridan asked cocking her eyebrow at Celia. The red head sighed with a snort.
"I'm not doing Queen."
"Red please!" Sheridan wailed. "Ya can't let that bastard Shakes take it! I'll never hear the end of it, alive or dead! Please!"
"Ask some other buck to do it for ya, Sheridan. I'm too old." Celia snorted and bent down to pull at Dean's arm, with Sam's help hauling the elder brother up to steadier feet and a few steps over to ease down into the fold up chair.
He slumped down in the fabric and let his head loll forward to his chest, the pain and queasiness subsiding.
"None of these kids are a quarter the rider ya are! And as much as I just spit to say it this kid is good and got good animals, bred champions! All they talk 'bout how that goddamn ass is due in for the Nationals, haven't ya been payin' attention!?! He's been breakin' yer records all year!"
Celia stiffened, making Dean and Sam look at her then each other.
"Good for him." It was bitten out, but she let out a sharp breath, relaxing. "Records are supposed to be broken, not stand forever."
Sheridan looked shocked, like she had just been slapped several times across the face. Even Dean and Sam who were on personal terms with Celia's aggressive and clearly competitive side stared in disbelief.
"Oh my God. OH MY GOD! What the hell is wrong with ya!?!" Sheridan rasped out in absolute disbelief.
Celia snorted and waved her hand at the coordinator, stepping passed her towards the bottles of whiskey, tequila and Bru-ha, she scooped them up and tossed them into the cooler with the beer, pulling a bottle of lager free and wrenching the cap off.
"Red!"
"Ya have my list, Sheridan, take off." Celia sniffed and jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the fair grounds.
"Red, Celia, daughter of Nathaniel please." Sheridan looked absolutely pitiful, begging for help. "Yer it, I need ya to ride this and put that goddamn sumbitch in his place like the mangy half breed he is!"
Celia shook her head.
"Coward." Sheridan snarled bitterly. Celia shrugged.
"Red, this guy-" Sheridan glanced over her shoulder, her hair standing on end with the feeling of being closely watched and she clammed up. Sam and Dean twisted around and tensed as well. The slicked back blonde that had been screaming at his assistant earlier that morning was swaggering up the gravel and dirt track towards them, said assistant scurrying along behind. The red silk shirt crisp and creased like the dark colored, designer jeans belted at his waist. A sleek, red dyed Stetson was perched on his head and a pair of red leather and black snake skin boots seemed to repel any earth or water from the ground.
He marched purposefully right up towards them, his eyes roving over the logo emblazoned on the side of Celia's trailer. He marched right into their encampment, setting himself squarely, in the gaping space between where Dean was sitting, Sam standing, Sheridan begging and Celia next to the cooler working on her lager.
The assistant huddled in his shadow, blinking and looking more pitiful and like a struck dog than a human, even more so than that morning.
He flicked his blue eyes around at them; there was an awkward silence that Dean shifted a little in his place in the chair. He did shift when the blonde's eyes soaked in his frame hungrily, like a starved man did his first real meal in years. The unnerving gaze moved to Sam, the same examination befalling the younger brother before going cold and shifting to Celia.
"Are you Red Northwind I've heard so many people whispering and talking about?"
It startled both brothers at the sheer lack of accent or dialect all together. Las Vegas must not have a specific speech design.
"I am." Celia swiftly set the beer down and brushed her hands off on her jeans, stepping forward, tugged the brim of her Stetson down in a tiny salute and held out her right hand. The blonde looked physically sickened; glaring at the offered hand like it was a large, offending slug. The blonde made no attempt to hide his distaste and for that the two brothers bristled but kept themselves still, mostly for a fact that Dean still didn't trust his own legs. The fuzzy burn of the alcohol was still fading but hanging at the edge of his vision.
Celia licked her lips and pulled her hand back, resting it lightly on her hip with as much dignity as possible, lifting her chin.
"There somethin' I can help ya with?" She asked, stay calm and polite. It wasn't the first time she had been snubbed, wouldn't be the last and she knew it wasn't a reason to get riled up.
"I'm William Shakes." The blonde, Shakes, said with some kind of smug pride, as if he was expecting Celia to drop to her knees in praise.
Don't hold your breath, Dean thought to himself. His mouth felt like cotton, he couldn't have added his opinion if he wanted to.
Celia only blinked at him, a quiet and calm look of expectation on her face, waiting for him to go on.
"Of Shakespeare Stables in Las Vegas."
"Y'all breed out that Quarter stud, Montague, right?" Celia asked. Dean could tell from her tone, the casual, almost all too innocent question and instantly knew that Celia probably knew more about Shakespeare Stables than this blonde rider/owner invading their circle.
Give him hell, Red. Dean coaxed, shifting to a more comfortable position, a quick glance up to Sam's face said the same.
"Montague de Verona, yes, World Champion Quarter Horse Stud in Halter and soon to be pleasure champion." Shakes puffed.
"Yeah. Big chestnut." Celia said, rubbing her jaw with a hand. "Heard he was quite a handful, bit of bucker blood in him, right?"
Shakes looked stricken, his face turning purple briefly then faded back to normalcy, a sickeningly polite smile on his face.
"A bit of spirit never did a horse any harm; expect you would agree with that band of mustang half bloods over there." Shakes motioned towards the horses in the stalls.
Dean felt Sam stiffen and puff his chest in defense.
"I do agree." Celia said calmly, this seemed to do more harm to Shakes than anything else, he grit his teeth and the assistant in his shadow looked very pale.
"Well." Shakes bit out dangerously, her eyes blazing a little. "I expect you've heard, Miss Northwind, that I'm the rider that has been ripping through your standing records in the circuit. Like tissue paper."
Celia made no reaction, Dean and Sam were fighting back the smiles at the way that Celia's calm and cool demeanor was making Shakes twitch almost violently.
"So when I heard those rumors that a true Nevada 'legend' was taking a break from…what is it, rustling cattle…to join us in the ring, I had to come see the myth in life myself."
His eyes roamed up and down Celia's frame. Taking in her petite size, red eyes and hair, the faded scars that cross hatched her tawny skin, her dusty jeans and dirt smeared white tee shirt and less than clean Stetson hat. His lip curled a little and he sniffed, then his face fell back into sickeningly sweet smile.
"You don't do it justice. They make you seem taller." It was bitten out and snidely said.
Dean felt every instinct and urge to force himself out of the chair and break Shakes' jaw. Sam actually took a step forward but stopped when he felt the elder brother's hand grip his forearm and pull him back. The younger Winchester's hands clenched into fists and he was shivering, square jaw clenched.
All Dean could focus on was that Celia remained calm and casual, no offense showed in her physical frame. But Dean could see Celia's temper was starting to collect, her eye color was darkening.
"All stories gain a little weight along the way." Celia shrugged her tone so calm Dean and Sam instinctively and physically flinched. Somewhere deep and innate in their minds they knew things were getting dangerous.
"And I don't 'rustle' cattle."
Lynn Sheridan was perfectly still, a few other competitors and hands had gathered loosely into a group to watch the confrontation. Sheridan was shifting nervously, but refusing to cut into the fight.
"Yes, well what ever it is you do I can't help but expect from a common ranch hand, not a serious competitor."
There was a shift and angry murmur in the gathered onlookers, whom Dean and Sam instantly took many for the 'common ranch hands' that Shakes had just so calmly insulted. Celia's teeth ground together, just once but loud enough that Dean and Sam could actually hear the enamel rubbing together.
She lifted her hands off of her hips and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, throwing her head back, red eyes darkening still. Her entire stance screamed 'predator', Dean had the distinct feeling that anything, in heaven or hell would have backed away from her, tucking their tails. Dean suddenly wanted her there with him and Sam in the middle of a hunt. He could see her with her teeth clenched and bared, red eyes flared and darkened, rifle stock set into her shoulder or sprinting and hurtling over underbrush and fallen trees in some northern woods putting the fear of God in a Wendigo or skinwalker.
I want to take you hunting, Dean admitted only to himself.
Of course Shakes wasn't nearly at the mental capacity of a skinwalker, not smart enough to turn around and get away from danger.
"Though I was surprised that these two lovely specimens that I saw this morning were here under Wounded Heart interest. I must say that you do have good taste in assistants." Shakes slid a hungry step towards Dean and lightly brushed his hand over Dean's shoulder and grazed it over the shocked elder Winchester's cheek bone. Dean jerked back, reacting instinctively to get away from the unwelcome advance. Shakes smiled warmly at Dean and winked, then casting an appreciative look at Sam and a matching wink.
Dean flicked his eyes towards Celia for help, her saw her chest clench and expand to react, her eyes narrowed dangerously and Dean's heart fluttered with affection for her stepping up for him and his brother.
But Shakes cut in one final remark before Celia could speak.
"Unlike you do with horses."
Celia's blood ran cold, her eyes flashed wide in shock, staring at Shakes as if making sure that she had heard him correctly.
"Feral horses shouldn't be in the same ring with pureblood equines." Shakes sniffed and smiled coldly, grinning and physically leaning towards Dean, who was staring at Celia to hard to pull away from him. Sam bristled so darkly that she stepped back several feet towards Cottoneye Cloud and the other horses.
Dean shivered violently, forcing his weight up to his feet and stepped stiffly over to stand next to Celia. He shook unsteadily on his feet. Shakes looked a startled and more than a little disappointed.
"I'm gonna have to ask ya not to talk 'bout my horses like that. I'll see ya in the ring, Mr. Shakes."
It was very clear that Shakes had been dismissed. Dean's chest puffed out a little and he lifted one arm to drape it lightly across Celia's shoulders. Only then did her feel the small tremors of rage running through her frame, sparks of absolute anger.
Shakes sneered at Celia and therefore Dean, turned on his heel and marched back down the track.
"You will." Shakes snarled, the assistant scurrying after him and once he was out of ear shot was screamed at unceasingly, the young assistant seemed to crouch closer to the ground as he moved.
The crowd broke up, muttering to themselves and Sam crossed over to lean back against Cottoneye Cloud and Honeycatcher's stall, his hand deep in his pockets. Cottoneye Cloud draped his large head over Sam's shoulder, but it was clear the younger brother was seething in rage, unwilling to speak unless his outburst upset Celia further.
Sheridan shifted like and island in the ocean, waiting for someone to speak before she moved on.
Dean squeezed his arm around Celia's neck. He hoped the pressure from his returning strength was enough to comfort her. He got his answer when Celia lifted one of her hands and lightly patted Dean's hand. His fingers caught hers for a brief squeeze before her hand fell back to cross her arms over her chest again. He breathed a little easier as the tremors stopped and Celia was still.
Sheridan raised her eyebrows as Celia.
"That sumbitch needs to be put in place." Celia snarled; her accent and drawl thickening oddly in her anger. Dean liked the change. Sheridan perked and looked at Celia, question in her eyes. Celia waved her on.
"That's my girl!" Sheridan chirped happily already scribbling all over Celia's schedule, marking out the events Celia needed to compete in to accomplish the title of Rodeo Queen.
"Red, you can't do everything." Dean pressed, looking at her with pleading eyes, his eyes flashing down to her knee. Celia's red orbs narrowed dangerously. "I'd love to see that bastard taken down but you're hurt. Please."
Maybe Dean did have puppy eyes because Celia looked at him for a few seconds before she cast her eyes down with a grumble that sounded like defeat.
"I'll ride."
Dean, Celia and Sheridan looked up and around at Sam. The younger Winchester looked like he was on a mission, his face darkened with rage at the way that Celia had been spoken to, the way that Shakes had advanced on him and his brother and finally the way that Shakes had bashed Cottoneye Cloud and the other Wounded Heart horses.
"Sam-"
"I said I'll ride."
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