I don't own Sam, Dean or any of the supernatural characters but I do own the Barbaru. Sadly their only value is entertainment.

This was without a doubt one of the toughest chapters to write. It doesn't communicate all I hoped for but it will have to do. I hope you find it enjoyable none the less.

Chapter 25

Dixon's Journey

Change was far from new to Dixon but he never experience anything so extreme or abrupt as his leap into the world of the human hunter and initially he found himself reeling from culture shock. Four hours in a car without a bar, a computer and internet access, or anything to do but stare out the window and listen to music was harder than he expected. He did enjoy classic rock and a little shop talk with Dean held his interest yet the sight of the lights of Niagara Falls Ontario was an incredible relief. He made no attempt to sway Dean's choice of motel (It looked clean and respectable) but insisted on paying for it. Dixon proposed, 'You handle the petrol and weapons and I'll take care of accommodations and food.' to which Dean had no objections. A single room, a kitchenette, two queen sized beds and dreary, brown and yellow decor? He tried to be optimistic but when he lay on the bed for a few minutes rest his heart sank. Servants in the Illutu had better beds and none of them shared a room. This would take a great deal of getting used to.

They crossed the boarder in the early evening of New Years Eve and had difficulty finding a restaurant for dinner but a pub and eatery made a table available after Dixon slipped the attendant the appropriate gratuity. If was the first time in a life time the guardian didn't attend a white tie affair but the casual setting facilitated a laid-back, boisterous evening of laughter and fun which he found a pleasant change of pace.

Dixon's first two spirit hunts were relatively uneventful but he was amazed by the degree of effort and patience it took to get the job done. The legendary screaming tunnel was haunted but not by a harmful spirit. Dean struck a wooden match several times bringing a screaming little girl running into the tunnel with her cloths afire who would stumbled and died. Dean called it a death echo and barked at the tragic figure trying to get her attention but she didn't seem to hear. Dean looked at Dixon and said research.

Legend has it a young Militia officer, Captain Swayse was killed when, during the war of 1812 when he delayed joining the retreat to rendezvous with his lady love in a quaint clapboard inn called the Angel Inn. He was bayoneted by an American soldier while hiding in a barrel in the basement. Dixon made a call to the Illutu for information about any fire near the tunnel and learned about the tragic death of eight year old Rosemary who ran from a house fire her cloths ablaze and was found in the tunnel, but of Captain Swayse they found no evidence though the research department did discover several deaths by strange knife wounds prier to the two rednecks who were stabbed to death in a locked room a couple of weeks ago. Dean said that was evidence in itself adding he found a death notice for the Captain after searching several historical museums.

After lunch Dixon joined the hunter in his search for Captain Swayze and marveled at Dean's patience as they searched row after row of head stones in two cemeteries before finding the Captain. Was it patience or was it tenacity? They stopped for take out and over dinner Dean explained the research process highlighting the many things a department in another city could not discover. Long after sundown Dixon took part in his first graveyard salt and burn and found it sadly dull despite Dean's insistence that he keep the Ithaca pump loaded with rock salt, close at hand. Though it was three in the morning Dean pushed on to the screaming tunnel and had Dixon light match after match while he called the girl by name until he found a phrase she responded to, "Rosemary the fire's out" The flames disappeared and as she stared at Dean in a state of confusion he told her she was free to got to heaven. It took time and effort before Rosemary finely understood and disappeared in a blinding flash of light. Dean was right, that would never grow old. As to the missing people Dean suspected runaways or something more sinister but human and asked Dixon if he would have his people check into it just to be sure. In all Dixon's first hunt was educational but uninspiring.

Facing a full day on the road to a little fishing village in Maine, Dixon armed himself with a book, the road maps and had some tapes delivered to Niagara Falls priority post. He made sure they were ninety percent classic rock. To this Dean added newspapers from all the surrounding states and told him to read aloud all the obituaries and any stories about strange or violent deaths, 'Well cover pretty much any deaths, fires, catastrophes, stuff like that. Oh and miracle recoveries too. When you're finished that check the net.' As hunt followed hunt Dixon would find he had little need for the books. The two men quickly grew comfortable with each other and Dixon took every opportunity to learn what he could about Dean and other hunters on the road. In the months that followed travel was searching papers and the net, music and conversation. When they arrived in town it was work accompanied with a great deal of explanation of what, how and why. There would be at least one night of revelry then hours on the road to their next hunt.

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Hunting a spirit in a cosy little house in a little fishing village proved to be difficult. Because they didn't know what they were looking for Dixon experienced first hand how arduous the long hours scouring newspaper archives and city hall records could be. It took over a week to discover why five women, over the past hundred odd years were discovered decapitated in the home and on the same day a man somewhere else in town lost his head. By the time they ascertained the spirit's beginnings, tedium was redefined for Dixon. The team discovered an extensive news article about a sailor found beheaded in his home and days later the sailors wife and another man in town were decapitated. Dixon believed the evidence was inconclusive but Dean insisted it was enough and they went in search of the graveyard.

Able seaman Jack Turner made an appearance while they dug up the grave proving Dean wasn't jumping to conclusions or being rash as the Barbaru had suggested. It was the first time Dixon saw rock salt and Dean in action and both were rather impressive. When the spirit attacked Dean ordered 'keep digging' and went on the attack himself. Dixon never dug so fast in his life. Dean managed to disperse the specter readily enough preventing any significant interference with the digging but was tossed about. Dean insisted the few bruises he received where nothing and told a story of having his head was split open on a grave stone and another about a spirit almost slicing his arm off with a flying shovel. He laughed as if these things were nothing and perhaps to Dean they were. Though he did not show it Dixon was initially appalled by Dean's blase attitude toward such brutality and violence.

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On the road to Virginia Dixon thought long and hard about his attitudes. Though Dean was not one to march around in his shorts Dixon had seen how covered in scars he was and though his gut reaction was 'what a terrible thing to do to such beauty' he now remembered a time when all soldiers looked like that. Only the weak who fought in the rear in a battle and surrendered quickly could escape unscathed thus such wounds were paraded like badges of courage. Those were brutal times in which only the strongest survived and as weeks became months Dixon realized this too was a brutal life and he had indeed gone soft. Temporarily.

Between celebrating successful hunts and searching for new ones Dixon managed to insert serious conversations, one in which he asked Dean why he hunted and if he would pursue something else given the opportunity. Dean needed to give it little thought.

He finely answered, "It's not just what I do it's what I am. This is the only life I've ever known and I can't see myself doing anything else. Besides didn't some one say 'All evil needs to thrive is that good men do nothing.'? I don't like the idea of evil thriving and I've never been good at doing nothing ."

"I've never loved evil myself." Dixon agreed thoughtfully, "I sometimes wonder if this war will ever end, or if it's even possible to win."

"You're kidding right?" Dean chuckled, "We can never win, not till Hell freezes over. Literally. I know you're just getting used to the whole demon thing but think about it. As long as there's Hell there's evil and Hell's not going anywhere. It's over and won at end of days."

Dean slipped into a sombre mood for hours after this conversation and Dixon did not disturb him. He was deep in his own thoughts mulling over the concept of a war with evil that could never be won. The Barbaru did not regard were creatures, skin walkers and other such beasts as evil in the strictest sense. They were mindless animals dangerous in nature who needed to be put down. But demons were another matter. This new enemy drastically reshaped the landscape of the Barbaru's existence bringing both menace and a new urgency to the battle. As the Impala rumbled along chewing up the highway Dixon studied Dean's profile. He'd know soldiers like this before. He'd even been one, many of the Barbaru had. In a world now populated with demons they would have to don their worrier's dress again.

Dean never burdened Dixon with his dark thoughts but pulled himself out of his sullen mood and began singing along with the tape deck. Dixon allowed himself to be drawn in to good spirits again but the astute observation was never far from his thoughts.

Before they reached the hills of Virginia Dean stopped at a little town to replenish his funds. The wily hunter elevated hustling pool to an art form and truly enjoyed the game but one aspect of his technique was a revelation to Dixon. He was quite off hand when he asked Dean if he deliberately hustled gay men and flirted with them as a means to keep them off balance. Dean was remarkably subtle but no gay man would miss his flirting. Dean denied all and tolerated little discussion, insisting the subject be closed. Dixon's admission that he was bisexual did for a short time create a rift between them but Dean had a profound "None of my business" policy and lived by it thus differences were quickly forgotten. Once the furore died down other than exorcising a little more decorum around Dixon Dean seemed to forget about the incident. A month later the subject came up again.

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Dixon saw a monster hunt in the hills of Virginia as an opportunity to show off his extensive skills. He identified what they were hunting and had considerably greater knowledge and understanding of goblins. He was grateful that Dean had no qualms about letting Dixon form the strategy and led the hunt through the hills outside of town looking for the monster. It was in the wood that Dixon first began to wonder just who or what Dean was. That human strength, senses and hunting instincts were not as developed as the Barbaru was not a prejudice but a fact. Dean should not have been telling Dixon to pick up the pace. He matched Dixon move for move and more. Several times the trail grew cold but Dean managed to "guess" the right direction allowing Dixon to find the trail again. When Dixon asked Dean how he could keep such a pace and find the trail Dean only smiled saying he'd been training to do this since he was six years old and asked Dixon what his 'excuse' was. The answer seemed a little suspicious but this was not the time for Dixon to pursue it.

The cave where the Goblin lived was a horrifying sight for anyone to behold with human body parts hung from lines aging. It was an even greater terror for two little girls that witnessed their mother's death and dismemberment. Neither girl uttered a single word as Dean and Dixon carried them out of the wood. With soothing words of comfort Dean managed to get them to drink a little water but anything else said on the long walk to town seemed to fall on deaf ears. Not wanting to put their spelunking story to the test they hurriedly packed. Dean was very subdued and suspecting he was upset about the children Dixon asked if, after they were safely away, they could call to find out how the girls were but Dean said it wasn't a good idea.

"We can't save them all. You just put aside the ones you loose and remember the ones you do, but don't get involved in their lives." Dean counselled, "There's just too many people to care about. You'll burn out if you don't keep a little distance. The only thing you take away is whatever you learned about hunting."

Dixon looked into those much to old eyes and wondered how well he practiced what he preached. Was it daily dining on blood and horror that turned this young man old or was it something more. He probed for further ideals and beliefs by prompting comment on his own philosophies and expreances. In weeks to come Dixon would come to the conclusion that in order to develop such an odd mix of cynicism, sorrow, and painful knowledge with unwavering conviction, Dean would have had to live a hundred years in his twenty six.

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Dixon knew he had become to pampered when he found it difficult to rest on the perfectly respectable motel beds and didn't enjoy the completely acceptable meals in the restaurants they eat and he didn't even want to think about some of the burger shacks they stopped at when on the road. But as time passed he found that eating because you're hungry could inspire a new appreciation for simpler meals and falling into bed exhausted made every bed comfortable. What he was finding difficulty adjusting to was hunting without an inexhaustible supply of manpower or a perfect knowledge of the subject he was hunting but hardest of all was putting his faith in the man in charge.

Dixon never sought power but was forced into the role by a quirk of fate and moment of rage, yet now, following another worrier he was unsettled by his lack of control. He hoped that as his confidence in Dean grew his disquiet would diminish. By the time they pointed the Impala in the direction of Mississippi, Dixon was beginning to feel more a worrier again and the disquiet was beginning to fade. By the time they left Mississippi, Dixon knew he was a worrier again and that he was following the lead of a worthy general.

A call from a friend and hunter named Bobby sent Dean and Dixon to Pontotoc, Mississippi where the suicide rate was more than three times the national average. It turned out to be the most difficult hunt Dixon had ever been on. It took weeks of interviewing the families of tormented victims driven to suicide, doctors and the local M E. Then three more days of following a teenaged boy who was on the verge of a nervous break down, before they finely spotted and identified the glowing demon creature the suicide victims claimed were haunting them. It was no more than three feet tall and resembled a cross between a cartoon devil, and a dragon, (not a cartoon dragon). It was a Gargoyle.

Dean had no experience with them but did not turn away or pass it to someone else. There was no one else. On this hunt Dixon would not have wanted to be calling the shots and though he was impressed with his teacher's ability to handle himself under fire the Barbaru's anxiety levels were high. Dean referenced The Book of Angels and Demons and sought advice from his friend Bobby. They discovered Gargoyles were created by a demon, fed on blood like a vampire, and could teleport in the blink of an eye even when corporeal. They also found an Enchean chant that would force the creature to materialize making it vulnerable to evergreen. They summoned the glowing leathery green cambion in a salt sealed, abounded store front in a deserted part of town. They left one salt line broken and fixed it the instant the gargoyle appeared. It materialized in a corner at the ceiling shrieking, making vile threats and slinging offensive and degrading insults. Dixon had never witnessed anything like it.

It's ability to teleport made it a horror to shoot. It's twisted dragon like features seemed to be everywhere, it's pointy teeth bared in a sneering smile as it laughed while slinging insults at them. Dixon emptied his quiver finding his longbow not up to the task though he his practiced skill. He was unaccustomed to being mocked and less familiar with defeat. No doubt his frustration and anger with ridicule, contributed to his failure. Dean's face was an emotionless mask his eyes intense as he tracked the laughing misshapen dwarf with it's ridicules arrowhead tale. His cross bow had a little more speed but his quiver was half empty when the hunter yelled "Watch for the smoke." Even so he was down to his second last arrow when it found the heart of the Gargoyle. Dean had aimed at a little puff that turned into the taunting gargoyle. Only then did Dean's face twist in mocking rage as he hurled a few insults of his own and laughed at the dead gargoyle. Dean told him all demons loved to slander and insult and when given the opportunity he returned in kind. Dixon's report to the council that night was a long difficult one, on the other hand his disquiet had faded to unnoticeable.

Both agreed that after such a arduous hunt a little relaxation was called for and in the next town they stopped for a day of rest and recreation. Dean took six hundred dollars from a gay man who followed Dean out of a pub expecting a tryst and when rejected accused the hunter of being a 'cock teaser'. Though Dean snarled at the man and threatened him with a beat down Dixon saw the shock and confusion in his partner's eyes and finely understood that Dean honestly hadn't realised what he was doing.

When Dixon first admitted he was bisexual and pointed out that Dean's pool hustling practices suggested the same Dean said amongst other things, 'My dad is a soldier, a marine, with no tolerance for any kind of weakness.' Dixon had been offended by the suggestion and dropped the subject. Seeing the fear in Dean's eyes when confronting the gay man gave the statement a whole new meaning. Dixon had come to know Dean much better since the subject first cam up. He knew enough not to disturb the young man's silence but waited till nightfall when Dean could hide in the darkness. When he could open himself up in secret and listen without fear of discovery. Dixon waited for the sounds of Dean putting away his flask of whiskey and settling in for the night before asking the hunter if he knew anything about the Spartans.

"I'm a walking encyclopaedia of military history, dude." Dean answered with a laugh, "I sure as hell know about all the Greek wars and definitely the battle of Thermopylae."

"I'm damned familiar with that one myself but what do you know about the Greek culture?" Dixon pressed.

Dean's interest seem to fade as he mumbled, "Not much, why?"

"I have a very important point to make so please hear me out." Dixon asked then began a tail that would become very important to Dean, "During the archaic and classic periods of the Greek civilisation most of the so called civilised world at that time was very patriarchal and nowhere was it more so than in Greece. Wives and daughters were confined to the rear of the home forbidden to take part in public or political life and were not permitted to socialize not even dine with the men. Their marriages were arranged by their fathers, they had no say in the matter what so ever. Sons were another matter. When they came of age, which was from fifteen to seventeen, they were placed in a pederasty relationship. Suitors had to vie for their affection, prove themselves worthy to the boy and his father. Slaves were assigned to watch over the lads to insure they were not seduced or violated in any way. The literature and art of the period abound in depictions and tales of these relationships. The most famous are of historical figures of course."

"Wait, wait." Dean interrupted despite Dixon's request, "What is this pederasty?"

"Pederasty comes from pais meaning child and eromenos which means beloved." Dixon explained but was interrupted before he could continue.

"Are you talking about a gay thing in Greece. A father arranged and approved gay thing?" Dean demanded.

"Dean I implore you to let me finish my story." Dixon pleaded, "It will work it's way back to the Spartans and I will make my vital point." Dean reluctantly muttered agreement and Dixon continued, "The relationship lasted a number of years during which the man cared for, educated and supported the boy until he was betrothed and was known to continue beyond his marriage. As I'm sure you know military service was required of all free Greek men. The Persians ruled most of the world when it tried to conquer Greece and it was this tiny conglomeration of cities that defeated what was considered one of the most powerful empires to have ever been created.

"The Spartans carried their military service, the shunning of women and relationships with men to the extreme. Women were, to a point, educated and given a measure of combat training so they could defend the city when the men were gone to war but again they were segregated and though there were greater demands on Spartan women they were still mere chattel. Weakness of any kind was not tolerated in Spartan men. When a child was born a city leader examined the baby and if any weakness or imperfection was found it was left to the elements. If the child was deemed worthy he was raised and educated to one purpose. To war. At the age of seven he was taken from his mother to begin his military training. This would be the last meaningful contact he would have with a woman until he was betrothed.

"Military training was brutal. Beatings to build endurance and character were frequent and survival was an issue. They were not only trained to fight and kill they were taught to lie, cheat, and steal to survive and the final test of a Spartan soldier was to attack a slave by stealth, murder him with their bare hands and leave undetected. The boys were completely submergence into this all male world of soldiers. It's all encompassing purpose was so cement the bond between soldiers and their loyalty to Sparta. A woman's only function in Sparta was to bare sons whom the husband would visit to mould and prepare for the day he was taken. When the young man married it was for the sole purpose of procreation. After fifteen odd years completely immersed in a male existence the bride had to wear her husbands armour to bed in order to entice him. Yes the Spartans were very extreme, but the next time your father or anyone else claims bisexuality or even homosexuality is synonymous with weakness point out that it was a culture that promoted love relationships between men and broadly practised bisexuality that made the most famous heroic militarily stand at Thermopylae."

After a protracted silence Dixon heard Dean heave a heavy sigh and breath, "Now that's profound."

He joined in a chuckle indulging the hunter's coping mechanism but when Dean fell quiet he waited for something of substance which didn't come.

"Dean I'm not about to tell you what to think or how to feel." Dixon spoke into the darkness, "I only ask you to give this little truth some thought."

"Is that historians guessing and speculating?" Dean asked hesitation in his speech.

"No, it's well documented." Dixon answered, "Aristotle, Sophocles, Plato, and a variety of other philosophers, play writes and poets made comment on the practice. Some were not as approving as others but it only proves pederasty was an accepted part of their culture. Even Zeus carried off a boy for his own and one of the reasons promoted for the assassination of Phillip II of Macedonia was the indignant outrage of his lover over Phillips refusal to aveng his rape by Attalus. That's another story, a protracted and convoluted one but it does have quite a few grains of truth in it."

"Wowe." Dean breathed again then sighed, "Catch some z's dude."

Dean opted to not talk about Greeks, Spartans, Macedonians and pederasty for a very long time but there were changes however subtle in Dean's behaviour that told Dixon he'd scored a victory.

When the girl at the desk at Mount Washington Hotel in New Hampshire, misunderstood Dixon's request for room 314, he not only didn't correct her but prevented Dean from doing so. In private Dean glared and snarled at Dixon who seeing the hint of laughter in Dean's eyes snickered and joked. It made Dixon laugh and tease all the more when Dean refused to share the famous princes bed. Instead he rapped himself in a blanket and got comfortable in a big wing chair. Though Dean snarled at his teasing, Dixon could hear him laughing under his breath. They had no idea how long it would take to cajole the rooms spirit into trying to toss one of them out the window, as it rarely did so, and Dixon refused to take turns on the chair insisting there was room enough for both on the bed. Though Dean dearly wanted to order Dixon off the bed he had agreed that in all none hunting matters they were equals he kept to the bargain.

Dixon was laughing uproariously as Dean grumbled and complained while trying to get comfortable in the big chair for the third night when Dean barked, "You're such a total bitch, Dix."

There was a sudden shriek and a powerful gust of wind that seemed to come up from the floor tossing furniture and making the bed jump. Then Dean was lifted by an invisible force and thrown out the window. With a powerful roar Dixon was out the window after him. He landed lightly by Dean's side and for a moment stared horrified then bellowed for help.

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Keeping vigil by Dean's bedside was a turning point for Dixon. In three months he had learned much of hunting, more than he had expected to and developed a new respect for human beings in general and Dean in particular. Good company, a knowledgeable hunter and pleasant scenery was as much consideration as Dixon had given the young hunter when they first set out. He had thought Dean intelligent, resourceful and courageous but shallow, volatile and insensitive and most certainly arrogant. By April Dixon came to realise Dean was a complex creature with many layers and depths impossible to measure. Lust for one as beautiful as Dean was common for Dixon, but this uncultured, battle hardened worrier with his amusing little boy ways had begun to stir something in Dixon he had thought long gone. Dean's faults, were not well hidden if he even bothered to try. He was openly arrogant, prone to moods and brooding, mildly volatile when provoked and a heavy drinker. The only flaw that worried Dixon was the drinking.

While Dean lay in a comma Dixon stayed glued to his chair dozing but never sleeping only leaving to use the facilities. He called the Illutu demanding they find the best doctors and bring them to the little hospital in the mountain village. He had learned so much in the few months he was with Dean he told them, but knew he had much to learn and he could not conceive of being able to make another such arrangement with anyone else but in his solitary observance by the bed side Dixon admitted to himself that frantic because he was losing his heart to the human hunter.

Each day the team of specialists sent by the Illutu came into the room, checked Dean's wounds and were confounded by the extraordinary speed at which they healed while they worried about his slow heart rate, reduced breathing and strange brain wave patterns. After four days Dixon took up his cell phone and stared at it like it was something evil. He watched Dean call his brother at least once a week, sometimes chatting for an hour, sometimes leaving the message, 'I'm fine little brother. Take care of yourself.' Some of the calls were filled with jokes and shared stories while other times he would snarl declaring he was going to 'Give that self-righteous dick a beat down.' In this respect they were typical brothers. But even in their arguing Dixon could see how profoundly deep and strong their bond was thus he knew the longer he waited to call Sam the angrier and more desperate the boy would be. He didn't know how he would be able to comfort Sam when his own heart was breaking but it was a duty he would not be able to shirk. Tonight, he decided, 'I will call him tonight.' Then Dean woke up.

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*The legends of hauntings in Niagara Falls Ontario are genuine and have been documented on television in 'Creepy Canada' The haunting of sailor is also true however the house is in Newfoundland not Maine. No deaths have been attributed to any of these cases.

**The haunted room in Mount Washington New Hampshire has been documented in various literature and TV programs most notably by 'Ghost Hunters' however the conversation they recorded (EVP) was with a none hostile spirit who could hear them but not see them. One of her statements was, "Of course I'm here. Where are you?" Though she had rustled bed cloths, moved things, and appeared (Full body apparition) in the room to my knowledge she has never been violent.

***Dixon's description of ancient Greek culture, the practice of pederasty and the raising and indoctrinating of the Spartan men is historically accurate however there is debate and discussion regarding the motive for the assassination of King Philip II of Macedon.

****I'm hoping upon hope for critiques on this one. The story is outlined and there is much to say but story seems to be getting painfully long. How might I trim the fat without loosing the meat or should I let it go on till it's told.

*****Today I beg you review.