Sam watched as his brother and Bobby talked over the next move in the "Save Sam From His Awful Fate" plan.
Mostly, it seemed to involve avoiding demons by hiding out in South Dakota and making sure no other hunters found out what was going on.
He shifted in his chair, foot tapping nervously. This was so wrong. The two of them hiding under Bobby's bed, hoping nothing bad happened? To be honest, part of him was cool with that because he was scared, especially after Wiley's earlier revelation. But what about all the people who needed them? Were Sam and Dean supposed to just forget about them, hope some other hunter picked up the slack?
Sam started to speak, but hesitated. Dean's being taken, possessed, by the demon, had been one of the worst moments of his life. If his brother had died, it would have killed something in Sam that he'd never get back, something he might not have survived losing.
He looked across the table at his brother's handsome profile, the stubborn cast of his mouth. He would do anything to keep Dean safe. Anything. But he wasn't going to let this psychic bullshit, or his fear, be the cause of innocent people dying. He just couldn't.
Screw the shit hanging over them. Screw the demons out for their blood. The Winchesters needed to get back out there and do their damned job.
(((((((((((((((((((
Too tired to get up and drag himself back to bed in the little room Bobby had given him, Wiley sat half-dozing at the kitchen table, idly wondering how long the Winchester brothers had been lovers.
Lovers, because Wiley had seen a lot of people, men and women, who were going at it hot and heavy, and there was a lot more going on here than screwing. The way the two boys looked at each other when they thought no one was watching made it pretty clear.
The term "soul mates" nudged at him. Wiley knew of them, had seen a few, but until now hadn't realized they mixed and matched as to sexes. He yawned and slid down a little further in his chair. Suppose it didn't matter what your soul mate had between their legs.
Wiley himself was all about the girls. Had been ever since he first kissed Vangie Dacosta when he was thirteen years old. Through Saturday matinees, backyard campouts and those innocent kisses, the two had been inseparable until the end of sophomore year when the Dacostas moved to Tallahassee.
Wiley spent most of the summer in a complete funk. Then the Collins clan moved in next door, bringing with them a 15-year-old blond cupcake with cornflower blue eyes and Wiley was reborn. He devoted the last few weeks before school to courting Lissa Collins, stars in his eyes and lust in his heart.
That had been the last summer, as he liked to call it.
Throughout Wiley's childhood his father had been obsessed with the idea that there'd been something inherently wrong about the fire that had killed his wife and infant son. Apart from the time he spent banging the town's hotsy-totsy librarian, that obsession devoured him. He cruised dubious websites and hung out with even more dubious people. He didn't have a whole lot left over for his surviving son.
Then one day, while Wiley was busy sparking the goddess next door, his father met a man by the name of Rufus Turner, and everything changed.
His father started spending every spare minute with the gruff stranger. He blew off the librarian, dropped the few friends he had, and stopped going to work. That last made things a tad dicey; the electric kept getting shut off, and more often not there was no food in the house.
When Rufus abruptly left town, Wiley started to relax, thinking things would go back to normal. If anything, they got worse, with his dad camped out in their darkened living room, dead drunk and staring at a blank television screen.
Wiley's romance with the goddess fizzled out. Her parents had noticed the meltdown happening next door. The young Lothario was hoping to reignite the romance once school started, but then everything changed again.
His dad stopped drinking and sold everything they owned except for their car and clothes, and he bought a fuck ton of guns.
And then he told Wiley about the things that hid in the dark and preyed on humanity. Why he hadn't also told his son what he suspected about his family's tragedy, Wiley had no idea.
Regardless, after that, there was no going back. His father was on the road to revenge, dragging his surviving son along with him. Much, Wiley suspected, like what had happened with the Winchesters.
((((((((((((((((((((
Sam huffed out an impatient breath. "Dean, stop."
Surprised, Dean turned away from Bobby to face his brother. "No, what?"
"I don't want to just hang around and wait for something bad to drop on us We need to do what we were raised to do. Hunt."
Dean stared at him in disbelief. "Shit, Sammy, what about the demon the took me? The one that broke your arm?"
Sam tried hard to suppress his impatience. "What about the one that followed us here? The one we buried out back?"
That caught Dean up short. He looked at Bobby. The old man didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow.
"This isn't going to stop just because we're hiding out at Bobby's," Sam persisted, trying to keep his voice even. "We've got a better chance keeping out of their way if we stay on the road, move around. It doesn't make any sense to give them a sitting target."
"Sam…." Shaking his head, Dean tried to marshal his arguments, then stopped and reluctantly reconsidered.
Crap. Kid was making sense. A lot of it. It was obvious that Sam and Dean's whereabouts was not any great mystery to any number of demons. But the house had protections against demons, and they were safe here. Sam was safe.
When he looked at Sam, ready to veto, his brother read his face and said impatiently, "I'm sick and tired of being afraid, Dean! Let's just – damn it, let's just do it!"
Dean hesitated. He understood. He was tired of it, too. Running away didn't sit well with him. And, truth be known, Sam wasn't the only one feeling antsy. Much as he loved Bobby's place, he was used to being out on the road, kicking monster ass.
He looked at his eagerly waiting brother, then back to Bobby.
"Whatever you decide," the old man said calmly. "You'll always have a place here."
"Home base," Wiley said.
Startled, the other three turned to look at him. He'd been so quiet they'd almost forgotten he was there.
Then Sam grinned, nodding vigorously. "Yes!"
"If that's what you two want," Bobby said. "I'll be here. I can dig into" – He gestured vaguely between Sam and Wiley. "Throw a few nets out, see what comes back."
Dean started to object, but Bobby reached over and patted his arm.
"Don't sweat it. I know how to hide my trail."
Still feeling a little hesitant, but also starting to get excited at just the thought of putting the Impala back on the road, Dean blew out a shaky breath and said to Sam. "Okay, Sam. Okay."
Wiley hauled himself to his feet. Hand on the back of his chair to support himself, he yawned. "Good dinner. Goin' back to bed." He wove a little unsteadily out of the kitchen.
Watching his departure, Sam said, "I'm not sure, but I think I like him."
Dean smiled. "Me, too."
Bobby got up and started carrying dishes to the sink. "He's a good man. Batshit crazy, but that kinda goes with the job." Starting to fill the sink with soapy water, he looked over his shoulder at them and frowned. "What are you waiting for? Dishes!"
I realized recently that this story had taken a turn I wasn't liking. Not the story itself, but the way it's been laid out. My bad. I wanted to have a fic that I could add to whenever the hell I felt like it. Separate chapters that are related but don't necessarily follow each other. Maybe one chapter in one state doing one thing, the next chapter a completely different dog. Somewhere along the line I fell into the continuous chapter thingie. Which has got me really bored. I will keep this fic going but on a completely unscheduled schedule (ha!). I'll be posting who knows when and it's anybody's guess what the chapter will be about. Need to fresh this up. Thanks to all who read my stories. It means a lot.
