Chapter 3: In the Place with No Frontiers

It was past six o'clock when I woke up. I'd spent some time on my laptop after Dean left, checking my email from the past few days—some spam, a couple messages from college friends, and several increasingly irate missives from Bobby—and tooling around online looking for news. It was most likely too early to tell, but I wanted to see if there were still signs of demonic activity anywhere in the area. After not finding anything besides a potential werewolf case and nothing particularly interesting in the more mundane news, I'd given in to my weariness and gone to sleep.

After washing my face, taming my hair, and changing into something less sleep-rumpled, I headed towards the front of the building. Even though it wasn't that long after opening, the bar already had a couple dozen patrons, once again mostly hunters and also a few who seemed like locals, sitting at the counter or scattered among the tables. Ellen was manning the bar tonight, and Jo was moving among the tables with a tray of drinks. There was no sign of Bill, but I could hear Dean singing Renegade from the kitchen.

I went up to the bar, sat down, and waited until Ellen turned her attention to me. "Hey Ellen, do you know of someone I can forward a case to? I was checking the news earlier and saw what looks like a series of werewolf attacks out by Topeka, but I obviously can't take care of it, and I'm not sure how often Bobby can check his messages if he's on his way to Blue Earth."

"No problem, Sam—just print out what you found, I'll check it out in more detail, and then I'll pass it on to another hunter to deal with. Bobby Singer can't do everything himself, so we do what we can here to help out, besides providing this place as a resource," she explained while setting a glass of soda in front of me. She paused for a moment and eyed me thoughtfully. "Does this mean you plan to stick with hunting after all?"

"I—I don't really know yet, honestly. I was actually checking for any news related to the demon—to make sure it's really gone and doesn't have other minions stirring up trouble. I happened to see that other story and couldn't ignore it, but I haven't had a chance to think about what I want to do once I'm healed up," I replied.

"That's good—this ain't the kind of decision you should rush into. For now, you just sit here and take it easy, or take a table over there if you want a bit more quiet." She nodded in the direction of the alcove. "I'll send Jo or Dean over with something to eat as soon as it's ready. You have any preferences?"

"Nothing too greasy, otherwise I'm not picky. Thanks!" I then took my drink and made my way over to the table farthest back in the alcove, away from most of the noise—and the curious stares of the other hunters.

Jo came over within a few minutes, bearing a small bowl of peanuts and another of pretzels. "Hi there, Sam! It's good to see you up and about and looking a whole better than when you came in! Is there anything else I can get you while you're waiting for dinner?"

"No, I should be fine. I did want to thank you for patching me up, especially considering what a mess I was," I said. "Dean mentioned you're taking college classes during the day?"

"Yeah, I'm almost finished my nursing degree at Mid-Plains Community College. After spending so much time helping my folks put hunters back together, it turns out I have a knack for it," she said proudly. "Just like Dean studied engineering there because he's a genius with anything mechanical, so now he builds gadgets, modifies weapons, fixes cars, and stuff like that for the community."

"You two are pretty close, huh?"

"I mean, most of the time he's a giant dork, but . . . yeah, he's always looked out for me—made sure no one bullied me, taught me how to ride a bike and throw a punch, that sort of thing. I wouldn't admit this in front of him, but he's actually a pretty awesome big brother." She gave me a stern look. "This is the first time I've seen him this interested in someone, so I hope this works out—if you're serious, that is. If you're just planning to move on, then let him down easy before he gets too attached, okay?"

"Well, that's nicer than the typical 'If you hurt my brother, I'll kill you' speech," I commented with a faint smile. "But don't worry—I can tell Dean is something special, even after knowing him for less than a day. Karma or the universe or whatever dropped this precious opportunity in my lap, and I'm going to do my best to cherish it—and him."

"Oh, don't get me wrong—I will kick your ass if you break Dean's heart," she stated intently. Despite having over a foot of height and probably nearly a hundred pounds of muscle on her, I didn't take her threat lightly. "If you treat him properly though, you and I will get along just fine. I'm gonna go check in the kitchen to see if your food's ready."

Dean emerged from the kitchen only a few minutes later and made his way to my table bearing a tray with two plates. "Nothing greasy, right? Luckily for you, tonight's special happens to be roast chicken, so enjoy!"

The plate he set in front of me held a roasted chicken breast and wing with a honey-lemon glaze, sautéed green beans with butter and garlic, parmesan mashed potatoes, and flaky biscuits with gravy. Everything looked and smelled incredible, and my stomach immediately made its demands known. I briefly noted that his plate had the same, other than a thigh and drumstick in place of the white meat, before picking up my fork and knife and applying myself to my meal.

"We don't usually serve anything elaborate, just an expanded version of the typical bar menu. But the big draw every Friday night is the full home-cooked meal I put together, which is why the place is so full," he explained, watching me eat with amused pride. "I guess I don't hafta ask if you like it!"

"Dude, I've spent most of the past year subsisting on diner fare, takeout, and fast food, so this is easily the best thing I've had in a long time!" I declared enthusiastically. I devoured a couple more bites, then looked up and smirked. "By the way, your kid sister gave me the whole 'don't hurt him or else' deal right before this."

He groaned. "Oh, c'mon! That's it—I'm giving her an epic noogie after we close up tonight!"

I laughed at his put-upon expression. "Don't sweat it! It was kind of cute actually, and showed how much she cares. You were right earlier—there were plenty of times growing up when I wished I wasn't an only child and had an older sibling to watch over me. Dad made sure I was physically healthy and safe, but he was too wrapped up in his own crap to care much about what he considered the 'small stuff,' like if I was having trouble with another kid at school or was losing sleep over a new crush. Seeing how you two look out for each other . . . it's really nice."

"Yeah, Jo might be the world's biggest brat sometimes, but I couldn't imagine life without her." Dean reached over and took my hand. "But look on the bright side, Sammy—the worst of that shit is all over. Sure, getting over what happened to your dad and everything ain't gonna be easy, but that damn demon is dead and can't fuck with you or anyone else no more. I'll be here to help you through the bad crap, and once you're back on your feet, you can figure out what you really wanna do for the first time ever."

I clasped his hand gratefully. "I appreciate that, man. Stumbling across the Roadhouse and meeting you and your family is one of the best things that's happened to me, and I hope that whatever I decide will include you."

A flush crept up his freckled cheeks. "Okay, I think that's enough schmoop for the moment! Finish eating, and then I'll introduce you to Ash before I hafta go back to the kitchen."

Once we were down to licking the gravy off our fingers, he took the tray back to the kitchen and then led me to the dais at the back of the room, where a handful of men were gathered around the pool table. He pushed past them and continued to the far corner, where a scrawny beta with a rather impressive mullet was playing one of the arcade games.

Dean waited until he'd finished his current game before catching the other man's attention. "Hey Ash, there's someone I want you to meet. This is Sam Winchester. Sam, this is Miles Ashford, but everyone calls him Ash. He washed up here a coupla years ago and never left. Don't let his appearance fool you—dude may look like a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie, but he went to MIT."

"He lives! Nice to meetcha, man, and even better to see you not resembling roadkill anymore, unlike when I helped Dean carry you to the back a coupla nights ago." Ash grabbed my hand and shook it heartily. "A lil' bit of snooping told me you're a Stanford man yourself, near the top of your class, scored a 174 on your LSATs. How did such a promising hombre end up in a bloody heap on the bar floor?"

"Cliff Notes version—a demon killed my mom when I was a baby, and my dad devoted the rest of his life to hunting it down. I got away for a while and went to college, until the demon killed my girlfriend too. Dad and I spent the last year tracking it down, and we finally cornered and killed it a few days ago. Unfortunately that involved me shooting my dad while he was possessed, and this was after the demon had clawed me up, so I was a major mess afterward," I explained shortly.

"Damn! Sincere condolences and respect to you and your old man, dude." Ash raised his beer bottle in salute. "I imagine that you've had enough of talking 'bout that though, so let's move on to more cheerful subjects, okay?"

"Well, I'll leave you two geniuses to geek out together, while I go back to feed the ravenous hordes." Dean waved a hand and sauntered back to the kitchen, and my eyes couldn't help following those swaying hips.

"Don't let his whole modesty shtick fool you, Sam my man—Dean here is plenty smart enough to have joined me at MIT back in the day. Take a look at some of the gizmos he puts together for other hunters when you get a chance—they ain't tinker toys! Sure, he took some basic drafting and engineering courses at the community college, but that's it—the rest is all him. He could be making big bucks at some cushy inventing or design gig, but he's got the same weakness a lotta oms do—the pull of family's always been stronger than his personal ambitions," Ash said, gazing at me seriously. "Don't get me wrong, Bill and Ellen did their best to encourage him from what I understand, but he didn't wanna leave the nest. 'Course all that could change, if the right person gives him enough reason to try spreading his wings."

"Is it that obvious between us?" I asked with a self-deprecating smile.

"Not necessarily to the random schmucks out there, though you staring at his ass as he walked away was kinda hard to miss. I was witness to Dean's mother-henning over you while you were out cold and to your little dinner date just now, and to a discerning individual such as myself, the chemistry between you is like BOOM!" He made an exploding gesture with his hands. "Since I've been here, I've seen him make plenty of hookups and even date a coupla people—no shortage of hot alphas coming through this place—but nothing like the intensity when you two are together."

"Like I told Jo, I'm aware that Dean is an amazing guy, and I'm incredibly lucky that he's into me as much as I'm into him. He's already helping turn my life around, and if I get the chance to make things better for him, I'll jump at it," I responded earnestly.

"Glad we're all on the same page then. I might be able to help your efforts by passing on some dirt 'bout our mutual friend." He looked over toward the pool table. "The flannel brigade seems to have moved on, so how about we play a game or two while we talk?"

"Sounds like a plan, my friend!" I said.

Ash and I played pool for another couple of hours or so. Dean wasn't our only topic of conversation—we also exchanged stories about college, talked about computers and how they related to hunting, and so on. He was particularly fascinated with how Dad had managed to track the demon without any computer assistance. We were joined at one point by two locals and another hunter, who had their own tales to tell about Dean, the Harvelles, and the Roadhouse.

Ash eventually excused himself and went over to talk to Ellen. After a few minutes of discussion, he took her place behind the bar, and she in turn headed into the kitchen. Dean came out a short while later and wandered over to me with a bemused expression on his face.

"My family seems to be conspiring against me," he announced. "Mom just kicked me outta the kitchen and told me to take the rest of the night off—said that since the dinner rush is pretty much over by now, she can handle the food orders for the rest of the night."

"This works in our favor, so I'm not seeing a problem!" I responded with a smile. "What should we do with ourselves this time?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something. C'mon!" He took my hand and led me to the Dean Cave.

I was surprised at how quiet it was once we were inside with the door closed—no hint of music, conversation, or other noise could be heard, even though the bar was only a couple of rooms away. I had to ask, "Is this place soundproofed?"

"Yeah, this room and the one Ash ended up turning into his crib are. Some of the work I do in here gets pretty damn noisy, so we built the soundproofing into these rooms during construction. It also lets me play music as loud as I want while I'm working without bugging anyone else," he said while fishing a couple bottles of beer out of the mini fridge.

Remembering what Ash had said, I walked over to the shelves holding Dean's completed projects to take a closer look. These included EMF detectors and other types of sensor equipment, some disguised to look like media players, cell phones, or other mundane handheld items, goggles and binoculars set up for night vision or thermal imaging, and even simple items like lengths of rope heavily encrusted with rock salt, warding runes in iron or silver designed to be hung on walls or over doors and windows, and amulets with various protective symbols. Of course there also were weapons, ranging from blades of various sizes and metals to portable flamethrowers to firearms modified for increased accuracy, range, or concealability, and boxes of specialized ammunition.

I picked up a bullet with a cavity in the tip to examine it more closely. "What are these?"

"Those are my vamptonite bullets—they're modified hollow points that I fill with dead man's blood and then cap the tip with a bit of wax. The problem with dipping regular bullets in dead man's blood is you risk the fucking stuff gumming up your gun, and not everyone's got a dart gun or crossbow handy to use instead," he explained. "You could also fill 'em with other shit like holy water, though the devil's trap bullets work better on demons."

"These are some really clever ideas, dude! And the workmanship on everything looks quite professional! It's too bad that Dad's lone wolf bullshit kept him away from here, because a lot of this stuff would've been handy to have," I commented. "Ash told me about some other stuff too, like how in addition to everything you do here, you also work part-time as an EMT and volunteer at the fire department a couple times a month. Is there anything you don't do?"

Dean shrugged self-consciously. "It's no big deal, man! I took some EMT courses at the community college and got certified 'cause I thought it'd be useful for patching hunters up here, and then I started working for the local ambulance service 'cause I had the spare time and figured more than just hunters could use these skills. It made sense after a while to offer to chip in at the fire department when I could, since the two work so closely together. I just like to help people, I guess."

"Well, I think is pretty damn amazing!" I moved closer and pulled him into my arms, breathing in his rich smell. "I still can't believe how lucky I got in finding you."

"You think too much sometimes, Sammy," he said, before reaching up and kissing me ardently.

Several brain-melting minutes later, he stepped back and headed over to the old leather couch, where he removed the cushions and pulled out what turned out to be a queen-sized sofa bed. After straightening the sheets and putting the throw pillows back, he beckoned me over.

"Figured we might as well be more comfortable," he pointed out as he sat down. "So c'mon over!"

I walked over to the other side of the bed and lay down. He stretched out beside me and slid a hand under my t-shirt, his fingers gently ghosting over the healing wounds on my abdomen until they reached my pectoral and began toying with my nipple. I gasped at that, then lowered my head to capture his lips, while my own hands roamed across his back. After a couple minutes of this, I tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt, and he quickly got the hint, sitting up to shrug off his twill shirt and yank off his tee. He then helped me take mine off too, and we paused to admire what we saw. Dean was built more leanly than I, but there was still plenty of muscle definition beneath that smooth, freckled skin. And if the increasing intensity of his scent was any indication, he was enjoying his view as well.

He leaned down to lap at one of my nipples, while his hand slipped under my waistband to caress my cock. He glanced up through those long lashes and murmured, "This going too fast for you?"

"No—no complaints here!" I managed to utter, before moaning as his fingers wrapped around my shaft and started to stroke.

"You stay still and lemme take care of everything. Don't wanna risk pulling your stitches again, right?" he crooned before suckling on the other nipple, while his talented fingers continued to slide up and down my member.

I did my best to obey, though I did reach out a hand to unbutton his jeans and unzip his fly. Before I could do more, Dean pushed my sweatpants and boxers down to mid-thigh, shimmied down the mattress a bit, and swallowed me down nearly to the root. I cried out and bucked my hips in surprise, and he responded by laying an arm across my pelvis to hold me down. He pulled back to suck on the head of my cock, then took me back into his mouth, his tongue swirling along my length. He suddenly began humming, which my last three functioning brain cells recognized as Immigrant Song, and the feel of his throat vibrating around me was enough to push me over the edge. I barely had time to groan a warning before I was cumming into his mouth, and he swallowed it all with a pleased smile.

Not to be outdone, I tugged him up until he was facing me, finished pulling open his jeans, and took his cock out of his boxer-briefs. I kissed him, tasting the salty bitterness of my seed on his lips, and stroked his member quickly. He sighed into my mouth and thrust into my hand, and it only took a couple more minutes before he spurted all over my fingers with a muffled shout.

Dean fell back against the cushions and then reached down to grab the hand towel from earlier to clean us both up. After tossing the soiled towel aside, he curled up against my shoulder, a satisfied purr rumbling through his chest. I slid an arm around to hold him close and strove to catch my breath.

"Goddamn, that was way better than spending more time in the kitchen!" he said with a languid stretch.

"I should hope so! I haven't felt this good in far too long!" I replied, then gave him a tender kiss. "What now? I . . . I'd rather not sleep alone tonight, what with the crappy memories and everything."

He thought for a moment. "Huh! Well, I wanna keep you here for at least another day, just in case you need anything from the infirmary. The beds in the other rooms are too small for the two of us, so I guess we'll be staying here. Why don't you grab whatever you need from your room, and I'll snag some proper pillows and shit?"

I nodded and made my way first to the bathroom to wash up and brush my teeth and then to my room to strip down to my boxers and pull a change of clothing and a book out of my duffel bag. I returned to Dean's room, where I found him also clad in only his boxer-briefs and arranging a fleece blanket over the bed. He grinned when he saw me and drew the sheets and blanket back with a flourish so that we could climb in.

Once we were both comfortably settled in, I told him, "You might be getting tired of hearing it by now, but I want to thank you again for today, Dean. If it weren't for you, I don't know how bad of a shape I'd still be in."

"I'm more than glad to help you out, and hopefully everything will keep getting better, Sammy," he answered with a soft kiss.