Chapter Nine

Cops and Indians, Cowboys and Robbers or Whatever.

A thought occurred to Dean somewhere in the sleepless abyss of a night this had shaped up to be. Sam was behind this John Wayne cowboy dude showing up in his room in the middle of the night. Chances were the fake-ass Duke had already called Sam to let him know where his brother was. Friend of their father's or not, chances were this breakfast in the morning was some kind of a set up. Dean's extremes when it came to caution in order to save his own hide kicked in hard and heavy. No way he was going to let this guy walk him into some situation he wasn't expecting.

What did he know about the guy, really? Sure, he'd dropped some pretty important names. Did that mean he'd actually talked with Sam or Bobby? Maybe, maybe not. Was it worth sticking around to find out? Not if it meant compromising the distance he'd been careful to maintain, the protective barrier of time and space he'd stacked between him and the life he'd loved once.

Dean Winchester wasn't some chump kid just starting the game. He'd been in it too long to let himself be strung along by sentimentality. It was that deeply ingrained survival instinct that had him sneaking off in the middle of the night. And if the Duke heard him leave he never showed sign of it, never bothered trying to stop him or follow. As for the job he wouldn't get to see through to the end, well Dean figured he could shoot off another anonymous e-mail to Sam or Bobby from some random internet café. He wasn't the only one capable of this stuff. Someone else could pick up the slack this one time, hell, the Duke was in town, wasn't he? Let him deal with it. Yeah, 'cause that makes leaving a job unfinished sit so much easier. Well that was life on the run for you. Unpredictable and completely unfulfilling.


When Sam and Cal made it to the diner with a few minutes to spare there was no Impala in the parking lot. At first they thought Dean had parked her somewhere. Maybe he'd taken to driving a different car to blend in a little better. Whatever the case there was no sign of him, if he was already there. There were worry lines firmly drawn across Sam's forehead but he wasn't going to give in to them. John Wayne would have called if there had been a change of plan. Dean would be there. Of course he would.

Cal was snoring lightly, snug and warm under the blanket he kept readjusting around her. The woman was just as restless in sleep as she was in every other part of life, tossing and turning as if trying to physically be a part of her dreams. She'd settled about ten minutes out of Potlatch. At first he'd thought she was awake, at least he had until that first rumbling snore. As if the closer she got to where Dean was, the more she felt at peace. He knew the feeling. It had been too long.

"Cal?" He rubbed her shoulder gently, trying hard not to hurt anything that was damaged. Not all that easy to do, after yesterday she was a walking bruise from the neck down. A groggy moan, a flutter of eyelids and she was back to breathing ever so softly. "Wake up Cal. We're here." Purple rimmed wide eyes startled open and suddenly Cal was right there with him in the land of the living. "How about some breakfast?" She'd fallen asleep before he'd been able to stop for coffee. It was way past time for whatever pain meds she'd allow him to give her. A little breakfast couldn't hurt. "Any sign of him?" She sighed out sleepily. "No sign of the car, but that doesn't mean much. Maybe we'll find him inside."

Even half asleep Cal was pretty sure Winchester had already given them the slip. Call it woman's intuition. Far be it for her to take away what little hope the man next to her might have at finally having a face to face with his brother. If he wanted to hope, after everything they'd been through over the last eight months she was going to let him. "He's probably nursing a pot of coffee, busy slurping down some greasy bacon and eggs. Won't even see us coming." Okay, so they could both see the lie. It was well intentioned though so it was left to pass.

"Come on, let's get some caffeine in you. You're much more believable when you're all there." The friendly tease was met with a rebellious tongue thrust out in mock annoyance. But she did smile as she peeled off the blanket and gingerly tossed it and the pillow into the backseat. All it took was the slightest sign of a wince and Sam was opening the door for her. No way to climb out on her own, what with his massive arm waiting for her to take it. As much as she hated not being completely self reliant, there was some comfort in knowing Sam had her back. He would have walked her right in the diner like that, doing his best to be the thing to keep her standing upright if she let him but Cal shook him off as soon as her feet were solidly beneath her. A girl had her pride to maintain, after all.

"Booth?" Sam tossed back the question over the sound of the bell jingling above the door. "Yeah. I don't think my ribs can take a backless stool just yet." The way he was able to hold the door open for her after going first always made her feel like a big child, probably because she didn't even have to crouch to duck under his arm and pass through. Her dad used to do just the same for her when she'd been a little girl. Today she was grateful for it, though. Never one to go halfway, the slight pressure on her chest from the night before had become so much more than unbearable.

After spending nearly an entire year sharing hotel rooms and personal space in whatever car they had that week their tells had become transparent. Sam knew. Maybe he'd seen the wrinkle of her nose or noticed the way she'd gripped the seatbelt for dear life as while undoing it. There was just no hiding from him that she wasn't as invincible as she liked the world to believe. That was why no offense was taken when the pain meds were mentioned. Sam didn't mean anything by it, he just wanted to know she was okay.

"You know, you're overdue for some pills if it's hurting." He might as well have been commenting on the weather instead of reacting to her grimace as she gingerly slid across the seat. "Not yet Sam." They both knew the second any kind of medication made it past her lips she'd be out for another couple of hours. If they were going to get the drop on Dean, Cal had to be conscious.

"Right. Coffee it is then." The waitress by the cash register nodded, she'd heard them. Sending them a quick wave as if to say pick a table, any table she bent to the task of preparing their caffeine.

They were on their first few sips of coffee when the bell above the door jingled again, letting everyone in the place know there was a new arrival. Sam couldn't help the smile when Cal got a look at the guy. It had been a long time since anyone had surprised her enough to leave her dribbling coffee down her chin. Last count had been Dean. No, wait, there had been that rocker dude at that bar in New York. Luke? Last name was something like a rifle, kind of like Winchester. There'd been a lot of joking around that maybe Cal had a rifle kink she hid really well. Hard to forget the guy. Point was, this was the sort of moment that didn't come around that often.

This guy wasn't wearing a feather boa, a guitar or sparkles like Luke had been though. She'd got her first glimpse of John Wayne and he was making one hell of an impression. The guy was huge. Bigger than Sam and built so wide that he could have doubled as a wall. He had long shaggy hair tucked into a tail that reached past a pair of massive shoulders and was covered by a cowboy hat so big it could've been in the running for a Guinness World Record. Not the traditional Stetson either, no this was a dark snakeskin number or something. Matching cowboy boots too, complete with the clicking of spurs as pointy toed feet strode purposefully across the tacky linoleum floor.

Sam had to reach across the table with a napkin to snap Cal out of it, saucer wide eyes just taking the guy in as he approached their table. He smiled at her, toothy and slick, as he stopped next to her. "Winchester?" he somehow directed at Sam while keeping his attention on Cal who was cleaning herself up mutely. "Uh, yeah." The Cowboy didn't even try to hide the smile. "Thought so. Look like your dad, if you don't mind my saying it. Mind if I sit?" Cal still hadn't said a word, but she did look a little relieved when the stranger took a seat next to Sam.

"I think I scared your brother off. He cleared out his motel room and took off middle of the night last night." Sam's face fell then. It felt worse than when they'd been searching for their dad, only to find out they were just a little too late every time they got close. "Oh, no worries kid. I followed him. He'll be shacked up for the day, resting up. I'll finish the job he left behind tonight and catch up with him again in the morning."

"Don't rush on our account, Wyatt Earp. Not all of us are as eager to catch up with the guy as Sam is." Ah, so the lady did have a voice after all. John Wayne eyed her up thoughtfully, appreciating what he saw even as he measured her up. "From the sounds of things, I'd say you were speaking as a lover spurned. If you don't mind my sayin' the guy's a fool to have turned his nose at a catch like you." Cal's snort was the picture of unladylike. "No, the guy's an idiot and he doesn't deserve to set eyes on me again is what he is." The throaty chuckle was deep, rich and rough. The sound slid through her mind and down her spine causing what would have been delightful little shivers if her ribs didn't feel as if they were trying to squeeze her to death from the inside out. "I'm John Wayne, nice to meet you." And instead of reaching out a hand, he took the half empty coffee pot from the middle of the table and topped her up. "Thanks. I'm Cal." The name made him smile again.

"O'Sulivan, right? You reputation precedes you, though I bet you get that a lot. It's the hell of a reputation." The compliment made her blush, which was a bit of a shocker from Sam's point of view, if happened so infrequently. "Well, thanks, I guess." Alright, it was time to break up the lovefest for Cal's reputation. There were more important things to talk about after all.

"So, Dean?" He prompted quickly, steering John Wayne back toward the reason behind their meeting. "Yeah. Got the drop on him last night. Don't know where his head's at but he's not trying too hard to keep his own ass safe. Breaking in and surprising him was so easy it was almost insulting. No booby traps to the room, not even the standard salt lines." And now not only was Sam disappointed but the worry lines were back, etched deeply all over his forehead and in the crease of his cheeks bracketing his mouth.

"Look, he's a wily little bugger. I'll give him that. Why don't you let me tail him a little while. See if I can't suss out what his plan is to get out of trouble with the law. When I get a better fix on things I think you guys ought to be the ones to approach him." He left his suspicions unspoken, because Sam was already well on his way to understanding that Dean had begun to give up.

Watching his breakfast mates carefully, it wasn't hard to pick up on the wordless conversation that passed between them. A questioning look passed from Sam to Cal. You okay with going along with the guy? Cal's slight, stiff little nod. Whatever you need, I'm there. Because when they first set out the understanding was that they were in this together. She had Sam's back no matter what, but he was in the driver's seat for this one. A nod as he made up his mind and then another look, pointed and full of meaning this time, aimed at her chest. Cal shrugged gingerly and suddenly there was a prescription bottle sitting next to her coffee.

"Bruised ribs, huh? Now that's a pain in the ass. Can't be too comfortable riding in that little car of yours." There was a sympathy there that spoke of experience borne. Cal just ignored him though, well past the point of endurance and just trying to get from that moment to being able to lie down in the car again. She couldn't even absorb what the men were discussing as they ate their meals. Sam badgered her into downing some scrambled eggs and hash browns, mostly because she was becoming too tired to argue. By the time their waitress showed up with the check Cal was dozing, propped up against the diner window at her side.

"Poor thing's wiped out. What's she even doing on the road, anyway?" John Wayne looked appalled that Sam would have let her come along in the shape she was in. "Look, word to the wise: you don't tell Cal what to do and you don't 'let' her do anything either. She'll take you down a peg, literally." John looked a little skeptical, but he'd heard the hype before and he was familiar with the name. "She's supposed to be some kind of big deal. I gotta say, I see where they got the bit about her being quite the looker. Not so sure about that spunk though." Sam actually laughed at that. Lucky thing Cal wasn't awake to have heard John talking about her. "Between you and me? She'll be really embarrassed when she comes to. The ribs just happened last night. It's the pain meds, they get her every time, knock her out cold for the first couple of days. She hates it."

John just shrugged and grabbed up the bill. A quick look over at Cal and he handed the piece of paper to Sam. "You get this. I'll carry her out." Now, normally Sam would've turned the guy down flat. They were a team and when Cal was injured or incapable of getting by on her own two feet, he was responsible for her. But there was something about the way John Wayne looked at her, like there was a history there Sam wasn't privy to. Not quite paternal but close to it. He wasn't sure it was necessary to object. Reading the hesitation John filled in the blanks, if cryptically. "You could say I'm a friend of the family. Knew her dad and granpop back in the day. Met her once when she was little, too, though she won't remember it." Okay. So he was probably safe to let the guy carry Cal out to the car, but Sam already had a mental list of questions for John to start answering the second they'd settled in at the hotel. 'Friend of the family' in this case held a bit of an ominous undertone that Sam didn't like.

"Sure, but uh, she's riding with me. She's been known to try to cripple a guy for taking her off guard. Wouldn't want to be responsible for that." Especially since she'd insisted on wearing the boots she was famous for. The ones in which she sheathed her favorite knives that could cut through just about anything like it was butter. "That was always the plan, Sam." Cal was already in his arms and he was headed for the doors. Still fighting that uneasy feeling, Sam opted to drop whatever bills amounted to more than the total was and run after them. There was now yet another thing to add to that 'to-do' list. Call Bobby and find out a little more about this John Wayne guy who was so good at getting results and what exactly he meant by 'friend of the family'.