Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am to a spiritual level beyond material possessions. Therefore, I must borrow everyone else's.

The Ponderosa Experience: Chapter 6 – The Attack

Cas was first to the barn, followed closely by Dean. Cas threw his angel blade and Dean heard a squeal and then a thump. Cas rushed forward into the darkness to retrieve his blade.

Unable to see in the dark space, Dean moved along a wall, searching for light switch. Less than a minute later, Cesar stumbled in and threw on the lights. Chupacabras screamed and scattered. Dean saw Cas's second throw nick one in the leg, but it was too fast for a kill shot. Dean heard a scuttle above his head and looked up. Inches above his face was a pale skinned, thin furred chupacabra. He raised his gun and took two shots. It fell to the floor. Dean reached up and felt warm wetness on his hand. Blood oozed down his cheek. "Great. Just great," he mumbled.

The squealing of the sow was heard over the rest of the commotion. When Dean looked its way, he spotted something latched onto at least one of the piglets. "The pigs," Dean shouted to Cesar, who was closer. In the shadows above Cesar there was movement. Dean took aim. Bam, bam. It fell to the as Cesar ran to the pig pen.

Dean scanned the darker corners and crevices of the barn. Cas was standing near the horse stalls, trying to calm them down. Dorothy, of course was not in her stall. She and another horse were nipping at the hindquarters of a third, smaller Pinto horse. The Pinto was defensively backing itself away from the other two, unknowingly protecting the chupacabra latched to the back of their thigh. Cas was unable to get a good angle on the monster.

Dean took action and ran and leapt onto a ladder leading to the loft. He ascended a few more rungs before taking aim. The gunshot stirred the horses up even more, but the chupacabra dropped to the ground.

"Dean!" Cas shouted. Dean looked to his friend's face. As Cas readied his Angel Blade, Dean secured his firearm and pushed off the ladder, landing in a crouch on the ground. There was a thud and another chupacabra fell from loft at the top of the ladder. The blood on its back leg marked it as the one Cas injured when the lights were turned on.

"Cas!" Dean nodded. The Angel ducked and dodged to his right as Dean shot and killed another chupacabra hiding in tack and gear hanging from the wall. He also put a hole in a nice saddle.

"How many of these are there?" Dean exclaimed. Cas shrugged. Neither of them saw any more in the immediate area. More shots came from the pigpen. Cas and Dean regrouped with Cesar.

"Two here," Cesar announced solemnly. Two of the piglets had already been drained, and one Cesar had to shoot to kill the chupacabras before they scattered.

"That's nine, including the one outside." Cas debriefed.

"Nine chupacabras?! What is going on here?" Dean exclaimed.

"We should do another sweep of the animals, the interior, and exterior of the barn," Cas declared. The others nodded in agreement. Cesar and Cas tended the animals and the main floor, while Dean headed to the loft. He used a flashlight Cesar gave him to better scan the area, as the loft had some dark corners. Dean saw where the chupacabra Cas had injured then killed had moved around in the dirt and straw. His light revealed a second set of tracks from the edge of the loft. The tracks headed to a set of exterior doors, one slightly ajar. Dean used his gun to push the open door further and he scanned above to the roof and circling to the ground. No chupacabra, but he caught sight of tracks on the ground leading underneath one of the vehicles.

Dean's eyes widened, and he ran to the edge of the loft. "At least one headed toward the house."

Cesar's face paled, and he ran into the night. Cas and Dean were not far behind. When Cas and Dean burst into the kitchen, they saw blood red spray across the counter and dribbling down the tan cabinets with a dark body at the bottom. Jesse was leaning back in a chair with blood splattered across his clothes, a smug look on his face, and a beer in his hand. Cesar stood over him exasperated.

"I thought we agreed no alcohol until you are done with your meds," Cesar sighed.

"Hey! Gimpy me just pinned the smallest, wiliest chupacabra I'd ever seen with my crutch while I struggled to reach a decent knife in this place. I still got it." Jesse toasted to the room and took a swig. Cesar rolled his eyes, but Jesse continued, "And haven't I been telling you that we should keep the knife block closer to the sink? I think tonight illustrates my point perfectly."

Cesar snapped around to the kitchen counter. It looked as though Jesse had used his other crutch to knock over the knife block to spill the knives within his reach. With force, Cesar stomped across the kitchen, set the block upright, replaced the knives without blood splatter, and then slammed it in a shallow puddle of blood next to the sink. Fresh blood sprayed across Cesar's front. "Good?" he barked.

"Excellent, babe," Jesse grinned despite his husband's irritated and blood-splattered face.

Cesar growled, "And I'll have to clean this up, too." Cesar slipped in the blood on the floor, but caught himself on the counter. "Puta madre."

Jesse's smile fell. He stood up, hobbled to his husband, and put his hand on Cesar's shoulder. "I'm okay, babe. You can relax." Cesar sighed and pulled his husband into a tight embrace.

Dean looked at the floor, feeling like he was intruding on something private. He tugged on Cas's sleeve. Dean didn't have a word for the expression on Cas's face when he turned from the Hunter Husbands. He hadn't recalled seeing that face on Cas before. Dean buried his curiosity and nodded toward the door. Cas followed silently. Once outside, Dean spoke quietly, "We should recheck the barn… Give 'em some privacy."

Cas nodded. "I should heal your wounds." Cas reached toward Dean, but Dean jumped away.

"Let's make sure there ain't more of them first." Cas's hand fell dejectedly.

The pair split up and searched the barn, cars, and the exterior buildings. While checking the exterior, they found ten sets of tracks approaching the homestead, but no more. When they entered the kitchen again, Cesar and Jesse were sitting on chairs inches from each other. Cesar had an arm over Jesse's shoulders, and there were two unclaimed beers open on the table.

Jesse nodded at the drinks. "Have a beer, take a load off. Cesar checked inside the house. Nada."

"We're pretty sure we got them all," Dean replied and reached for a beer.

"We found only ten sets of tracks," Cas added. He hesitated to grab a beer, but he followed through and sat down.

Dean moved to sit, but he noticed the blood dripping down the back of his leg. "Dammit! I better get these cleaned out." Dean sprinted to the bathroom and shut the door before Cas moved a muscle.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Despite Dean's lack of an answer, the door opened revealing Cas.

"I didn't say 'Come in,' Cas," Dean barked.

Cas looked at his feet, but since he already squeezed into the room, he didn't bother leaving. "My apologies. I thought I would offer to heal you –"

"No," Dean snapped.

Cas was taken aback. "Why not?"

"You should heal Jesse first," said Dean, unconvincingly.

Cas wasn't buying it. "His injury isn't as serious as yours."

"You couldn't heal his leg. What makes you think you can heal me?" Dean snapped.

There was a tired, sad twinge to Cas's reply, "I've got to try."

Dean continued to attack him to get what he wanted, or rather, what he didn't want. He didn't want Cas's kindness, pity, or whatever drove him to offer to heal Dean. After all he did to Cas, he didn't deserve it. He didn't want to feel the warm, tingle sensation of Cas's touch. So he pushed. "You? Try?"

"I try every day. Just because I fail doesn't mean I stop trying. Free will doesn't come as easy to me as an Angel."

"Free will?" Dean snorted. "Like there ever was such a thing."

Cas's voice grew softer and more tired. "There is."

"How do you know?"

"Because I remember when I had a lack of it," Cas snapped. "For millions of years." Cas took a few more steps into the bathroom and into Dean's personal space. "And for every time I exhibited it in the smallest measure beyond the wishes of my superiors, I was punished and forced to forget it existed. That I was capable. " [1]

Silence fell between them as they stared each other down. Both searching for something, but not knowing exactly what. It wasn't until the bottle of rubbing alcohol fell onto the floor that their searching ended. "Shit." Dean bent down to pick up the bottle before it spilled too much of its contents. When Dean righted himself, he felt the blood loss getting to him and grabbed the sink sharply.

Cas noticed, but he didn't address Dean's dizzy spell directly. "Now will you let me heal you so you don't bleed out in your friends' bathroom?

Dean turned his back to Cas and patted the wound on his face. "I won't bleed out. I've cleaned chupacabra wounds before."

"Fine. Your choice." Cas stormed out. In the kitchen he paused to say to Cesar and Jesse, "When he comes to his senses or passes out from blood loss, I'll be in the barn."

After the screen door squeaked shut, Jesse and Cesar exchanged a long glance and then sighed. "Do you have a preference?" Cesar asked.

Jesse jerked his head toward the bathroom. "I'll take 'death by 1,000 cuts.'"

Cesar nodded, gave his husband a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad I have you."

"'In sickness and in health'... And in burying the bodies of stubborn jackasses we asked to come help us with our problems." He smiled.

Cesar chuckled and walked outside. Jesse sighed again before hobbling over to the bathroom door.

He knocked. "Still conscious?"

"Still an asshole?" Dean called back through the closed door.

"Hey, man. Don't set your anger lasers on me. It'll just power me up to incinerate you. And I've got an endless bag of insults. I've got a long history of bar fights to prove it. This is your only warning."

"What do you want?" Dean asked exasperatedly.

"Let's start with something easy. Like talking to a face instead of a door."

Fifteen seconds passed in silence. The knob turned, lock clicked open, and bathroom door slipped open to reveal Dean in his boxers leaning against the sink, his back crisscrossed in oozing, shallow red cuts to the mirror. His left leg was patterned similarly, but those were dressed. He had a once white, now pink washcloth in his hand. The cut on his face was mostly sealed, barely noticeable. There was an open bottle of rubbing alcohol and other first aid items strewn across the sink and the floor underneath.

Jesse looked at the mess on the floor. "Yeah, not a lot of counter space in here. Bathroom remodel has made it up to third on the list, but it's not quite there yet."

Dean didn't turn his gaze from the blank wall across from him, nor did he reply.

Jesse glanced at red welts appearing through the gauze taped to the back of Dean's leg. "You're still bleeding."

"I know," he gritted.

Jesse threw up his arms. "Tell me, man, why won't you let the Angel 'lay hands' or whatever?" Then he smirked and added casually, "You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone object to his hands on them."

Dean's head snapped to Jesse, eyes narrowed. "Why do you keep doing that?"

Jesse shrugged innocently. "Doing what?"

Dean opened his mouth to explain, but, as Jesse predicted, no words came out. Jesse knew any answer Dean would give would lead to more questioning about why Dean felt that way; the same way Dean knew it. Jesse had seen the behavior before. He used to have the bad habit of falling for men with that behavior.

Dean's face turned back to the wall. "Nothing. Forget it."

Jesse rolled his eyes and went back to the issue at hand. "Don't get me wrong. Cesar and I have appreciated your help, but we also would have appreciated you keeping the landmines of your domestic dispute out of our footpath. And if that is impossible, at least give us a map to navigate."

"What?"

Jesse sighed and tried again. "Two choices: start acting like adults or tell us what the hell is going on with you two. At least the CliffsNotes version." Jesse paused and looked at the ceiling wondering, "Do they still make CliffsNotes anymore?"

Dean rubbed his face and smiled a little. "I hope so. I never could have helped Sammy with his English papers, if it wasn't for CliffsNotes. I had him fooled for a few years about how 'well read' I was."

Jesse's attitude softened. He saw a little bit of his own older brother in Dean. "My brother bought old math assignments from a neighbor who was one year ahead of me so he could 'check my work'."

Dean chuckled. "I used to think I was pretty good at it. Taking care of Sammy. Now I realize that I was just lucky. It wasn't that hard to beat the low bar my dad set."

Jesse struggled to figure out the connection between this conversation and what was going on between Dean and Cas, but at least the guy wasn't an anger ball anymore. "So everyone here has got Daddy Issues?"

Dean snorted and murmured, "I am a 'Daddy issue'."

Jesse recalled Sam's text the night before about Dean and Cas losing a kid. Maybe this was the root of Dean's problem. He pressed Dean further. "How so?"

Dean ran a hand roughly up and down his face as if he were trying to wipe something away. "I was turning into him, Dad. I didn't even realize I was doing it until Sam pointed it out. With Jack I was me one minute and him the next." [2]

"Jack?" Jesse remembered the name, but he wanted Dean to explain.

"Our kid, kind of."

"Yours and Cas's."

"And Sam's," Dean added hastily. He coughed. "It was a group effort."

"Right." Jesse nodded skeptically.

Dean squinted at the ceiling. "Cas and Sam fell into fatherhood so easy. The instant Cas and Jack met, they had this bond." Dean snorted and shook his head. "It's stupid, but sometimes I was kind of jealous."

"Jealous of Cas? Or Jack?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know." He paused thoughtfully before shaking himself to remember where he was going with the story. "But it all went to shit. I made so many mistakes… I tried to fix them, but then Mom died. I know he didn't mean to, he was just so powerful and young and dangerous and we ignored it, - I ignored it, - until I couldn't, but it was too late." Dean clicked his tongue. "After that I couldn't let myself see the boy anymore, only the monster." He shrugged and looked to the floor. "It was easier that way." [3]

After a few seconds, Dean turned and stared at his reflection in the mirror, his full weight on his hands gripping the porcelain sink. "I put a gun to the kid's head." [4]

Jesse's eyes darted side-to-side. The story of the grieving Hunter dads having domestic issues after their kid died got one hell of a lot darker.

Jesse was grateful, at first, that Dean continued his story, so that Jesse wouldn't have to pick up the conversation. "He was kneeling there, waiting for me to pull the trigger. He knew he was dangerous. He thought he was – I told him that he was a monster. And that I kill monsters. And at that moment he believed it. And I let him believe it."

"Did you?" Jesse tried to ask softly, but it came out ear piercing in the quiet room.

Dean's head snapped from his reflection to Jesse. "Huh?"

"Pull the trigger?"

Dean shook his head and his eyes fall to the sink below him. "No. I tossed the gun to the ground."

Jesse nodded, but he didn't know how/when/if he should reply. He was glad he didn't, because whatever he would have said would have sounded ridiculous considering the next thing that came out of Dean's mouth: "It didn't matter. God killed him anyway; He got what He wanted, just not the 'epic' Abraham/Isaac ending He was hoping for."

Confusion stretched across Jesse's face. "Uh, what?"

"God smited His own grandson after He realized I wouldn't do it for Him." Dean looked at himself in the mirror again. "I was so close though."

"So that's not a figurative God you were arguing about earlier. Literal."

Dean nodded. "Literal."

"Huh."

"It doesn't matter that He was the one that actually killed Jack. I had made the choice. My 'Free Will.' I was going to, up to that last second. Executioner style." Dean mocked a gun with his hand and pulled the trigger at his reflection in the mirror.

"Dude, God. Literal God was manipulating you. Who wouldn't have picked up the gun?"

Dean's head dropped and bobbed right then left. "Sam. Cas."

Jesse snorted. "I bet if God wanted them to shoot Jack, He would have gotten them to pick up the gun."

Dean shook his head. "No, they begged me not to. They know how to love. They don't get all angry and…confused all the time." Dean's hands wildly gestured at his chest.

Jesse leaned back against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "So, you were the easiest target for…God. Sounds like He was the one with the low bar."

"Don't make it sound like I'm blameless!" Dean erupted. "I'm not. I knew it was wrong. I just stopped caring. I couldn't care. It hurt too much."

"Blameless? You are very much not blameless, but when it came to taking that last pull, you stopped. You cared then. That counts for something. Maybe even forgiveness one day." Jesse's eyes widened as realization hit. "Dammit! Now I sound like Cesar."

"I don't want forgiveness," Dean pleaded.

"Sometimes it's not about what you want."

"Oh, you calling me selfish – no - self-absorbed, too?"

Jesse shrugged. "If the shoe fits…"

"Figures you'd take his side –"

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Jesse cut in. "In my opinion, you're both tontos del culos." Jesse sighed. "Look, I'm not delusional. I doubt our five-minute heart-to-heart in the bathroom will give you an epiphany or anything. But I appreciate you telling me a sliver of what crawled up your ass and died, so Cesar and I can maybe dodge a few anger balls for the rest of your stay. I also hope that you keep asking yourself why you feel the way you feel when you see Cas."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"That you keep blowing up at him when you are in the same room for more than 5 seconds." Jesse let a smirk shine through for a second before putting on his fake innocent expression. "Why? What did you think I meant?"

Dean shook his head and looked away.

Jesse rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together. "So, what are we going to do about this bleeding sitch?" He pointed to the bandages on Dean's legs that were growing redder by the minute. "We can go to the hospital. Explain to the night nurse that juvenile chupacabras injected you with a numbing agent and glands that continue to pump an anticoagulant into your blood stream so that you'll bleed out. Probably just another Tuesday night for them. They might have to get the hospital psych out of bed, but it probably won't be an issue to commit you tonight. Or …" he paused for dramatic effect, "… you can put your ego aside –"

"Fine! I'll go get Cas." Dean exclaimed and slapped his hands on the sink. Luckily, his stomping from house to the barn expelled the remaindered of his volatile surface anger. When he reached the barn, the lights were on, but no one was there. No humans, anyway. The animals seemed to have calmed down, and the injured ones wrapped in bandages and stitches. Dorothy was, of course, wandering around like she owned the place. Unwilling to subject himself to the hostile glaring from a horse longer than necessary, Dean went back outside.

He scanned the dark horizon. Off to the south he saw a flashlight bobbing his way. Dean took cover and drew his weapon, as a precaution. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dean could make out two figures in the distance. It wasn't until he recognized the silhouette of Cas's trench coat that he emerged and dropped his gun.

Once they were within earshot, Cesar called to him, "The attacks were deliberate."

Dean was taken aback. "Deliberate? How?"

"The chupacabras are being held captive, possibly breed. They are being released at their jailer's discretion," Cas added.

"Why?"

Cesar shook his head. "We don't know why, but we have a good lead as to who."

"Will you let me heal your wounds before we confront them?" Cas addressed Dean urgently.

"What? No! It's going to be hard to come with you if I have to piss every five minutes."

"Dean, you aren't coming with us." Cas ordered. "You'll be useless bleeding, and you're right, you'll be a hindrance if I heal you."

"No –"

Cesar interrupted this time, "You know he's right, Dean."

Dean split glaring time between the two of them. They weren't breaking. "Fine! Just heal me and go!"

Cas let out an exasperated sigh before extending two fingers to Dean's forehead. His hand lingered there longer that Dean remembered in the past. Of course, it had been a while since Cas healed him with a forehead touch. The last few years it was usually a hand on the wound, shoulder, hand. When Cas removed his fingers, he grunted. Dean opened his eyes and sighed at the cold air blowing across his forehead that was bubbling with electric heat only a second before.

Cas made eye contact with Dean for a few seconds before turning to Cesar. "Can we take the horses?"

Cesar raised an eyebrow. "Why not the truck?"

"Stealth," Cas wagered with determination.

Cesar sighed at Cas's flimsy excuse and his eagerness. "Fine, but we are using saddles and tack."

[1] Naomi and company revealed to have subjugated Castiel to reconditioning "too damn many" times in episode 08x21 "The Great Escapist"

[2] Referring to Dean's behavior toward Jack during the 'widow arc' of episodes 13x01 – 13x05.

[3] Referring to the events from episodes 14x14 to 14x20

[4] In episode 14x20 "Moriah"

Next Chapter: The Salvage – Trust is tested when Cas and Cesar confront the suspect.