Chapter 5

As soon as Dean walked into the guest quarters, Cas could could tell something was off.

"You wanna go get some breakfast?" Sam asked.

"Well..." Dean started. Cas moved closer to him, trying to figure out what was amiss.

"Cas, we talked about this. Personal space, remember?"

He was finally close enough to recognize what was wrong. He could smell it. "You had intercourse last night."

"What?" Dean said, looking nervous. "No, I didn't!"

"I can smell it on you, Dean."

"Okay, creepy."

"You had sex with Kirk?" Sam asked incredulously. Cas found that sentence hurt more than he thought it would. Dean had sex with a lot of people. Why was this different?

"Well..." Dean studied the floor intently as a blush rose to his cheeks.

Sam burst out laughing, which Cas found very confusing.

Apparently Dean did as well. "What the fuck, Sammy?" he scowled. "This isn't funny!"

"Dean, only you would realize you're attracted to guys by having sex with one of your favorite fictional characters," Sam laughed. "Not so fictional anymore, I guess."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, his cheeks still bright red. "We were drunk and it was just a one night thing. Besides I'm pretty sure Spock would kill me if it turned into more than that."

"They're not a couple, are they?" Sam asked. "Because if they are–"

"No, no," Dean assured him. "But there're definitely feelings there."

"I'll say," Sam agreed. "The way Spock looks at Kirk is like–" He cut himself off abruptly, glancing pointedly at Cas.

"What?" Dean asked when Sam didn't resume talking.

"Nothing. Let's just go get breakfast."

Dean shook his head. "You guys go on ahead. I need to crash for a few more hours – guy speared me worse than that crazy vamp with the bayonet in Miami."

His eyes widened as he realized what he just said, then narrowed as he saw Sam silently laughing so hard he was shaking. "Fuck you, Sammy."

"No, Kirk fucked you, Dean," he retorted, catching his breath.

"Will you just shut up about it already? Go and get your damn breakfast."

"Fine, Jerk," Sam said, still laughing as he left.

"Bitch!" Dean called after him.

When Spock reported for bridge duty that morning, he was visibly upset, despite the fact that he was obviously trying not to let his emotions show through. He didn't look Jim in the eye and he didn't even greet him with his usual pleasant "Captain" before heading to the science station. Instead, he kept his eyes down and walked swiftly past Jim without even a glance.

"Hey, Spock," Jim said, confused. What was up with him this morning?

Spock was silent for a long moment, and for a second Jim was sure he wasn't going to respond – but Spock was nothing if not professional. "Yes, Captain?" he asked, not looking away from his station.

"Morning," Jim tried, shooting him a sunny smile even though he wasn't looking.

Spock said nothing, and Jim caught Uhura glancing between them suspiciously at his odd behavior.

The rest of shift was somewhat tense, needless to say.

As soon as it was over, Uhura followed Jim into the turbolift. As soon as the doors closed, she smashed the button to stop it and turned to him with a glare.

"What the hell did you do to Spock?" she spat.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't seen him act like that since... since before mission start! That was the most uncomfortable shift we've had this entire time, and–"

"You think it has something to do with me," Jim sighed.

"Yes. I may not be you to him, but I can tell when he's hurting, and when he shuts down like that–"

"Wait what do you mean by that?" Jim interrupted.

"By what?" Uhura asked

"'I may not be you to him'," Jim said. "What does that even mean?"

"Do you really not know?" She raised an eyebrow at him – damn, he was going to have to do something about all of the eyebrow sass going on on this ship. It was getting out of hand.

"Know what?"

"Spock cares about you. A lot."

Jim shook his head at her. She went for the eyebrow again, and he hastened to explain. "No, I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm just saying that just because I'm his friend doesn't mean–"

Uhura scoffed. "You think I mean your friendship? God, you're dense. I mean, I know it's willful ignorance, but wow." She sighed. "No, Kirk, I'm not talking about the fact that you're Spock's friend – I'm Spock's friend. No, I'm saying that he's entirely enamored with everything from your assholishness to your ass, and whatever you did to hurt him, you'd better go fix it right now, or I swear I will make your life hell until you do."

Jim stared blankly at her. Where the hell had she gotten that idea? Was it Dean's jokes? Maybe she'd overheard and assumed there was something between him and Spock – something that definitely was not there, because he'd like to think he'd be aware of it, thanks. And in any case, whatever got Spock all pissy wasn't his priority right now, no matter what kind of torture his CCO threatened. He needed to get ready for arrival, prep his equipment, and psychologically center himself before he got stuck in the high-pressure and probably life-threatening situation they were sure to find when they dropped out of warp.

...his mouth had other ideas.

"Are you saying Spock is in love with me?"

"I'm just saying you need to be more conscious of his feelings. Just because he tries to hide them doesn't mean he doesn't have them."

Uhura pressed the button again, letting the turbolift move. Jim just stared at her, unable to come up with a response to what she just said.

Jim was supposed to be going down to Engineering, but instead he found himself walking to Medical and straight into Bones's office.

"Jim? What is it? We're supposed to be prepping for arrival – I've got to finish checking over these inventory lists before then, and then I've got five annual physicals that can't be put off more than another few days before I can beam down," Bones said, frowning.

"Do you think Spock is in love with me?" Jim blurted.

Bones sighed deeply and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Jim, we don't have time for this conversation right now. We're arriving at Deneva in a few hours."

"Please, Bones?"

"Alright, take a seat." He put the PADD he'd been working on aside, and clasped his hands together on the desk.

Jim sat.

Bones coughed.

Jim shifted in his chair.

"Spock," Leonard eventually started, "Is a unique individual. I hate what he's done to himself with his Surakian suppression shit, and he drives me out of my mind half the time, but even I can see he's got feelings for you. I don't know about love – hell, I don't even know if the hobgoblin's capable of love for anyone but his Mama, but there's definitely something there."

"In that case, I think I know why he's upset."

"What did you do?"

"Remember my plan to introduce Dean to the awesomeness of the other half–" He shook his head, considering. "One of the other thirds of the world of sex?"

Bones groaned. "Damn it, Jim. Tell me you didn't."

He at least had the decency to look sheepish. "I did."

Bones grabbed his PADD, violently opening another inventory chart. "Kid, I swear you'll be the death of me. How many times did I tell you not to interfere – don't answer that. Why the hell would you–" He took a deep breath. "Spock heard, didn't he? That you banged Winchester One?"

"I guess so. That's the only thing I can think of that would explain his behavior. He wouldn't even look at me on the Bridge today. I screwed up bad, Bones, what do I do?"

Bones sighed deeply and put down the PADD. "Look at me, Jim. You need to decide how you feel. Because until you know that then I can't help you."

Damn it. Bones always knew what to do, always had advice for Jim – even when he didn't want to hear it. He knew what Jim needed before Jim did, most times, and the fact that he didn't now... well, it wasn't exactly comforting.

The tension on the bridge was tangible as they approached Deneva and Jim knew it had very little to do with the mission. This was definitely not a good way to start a mission, but Jim didn't see what he could do with only a few minutes left until arrival. And right now he was too worried about Sam to think about anything other than the mission, so the Spock problem was going to have to wait.

He'd been distracting himself, he knew. The thing with Dean... wasn't uncharacteristic for Jim, and he really liked the guy, but his near-obsession with Dean really wasn't normal for him. Jim had always had issues with his feelings for Sam – some brother he was, running off as soon as he could and leaving Jim to deal with Frank alone – but Sam was his brother, damn it, and he still loved him, whether he wanted to or not.

"Preparing to drop out of warp," Sulu informed the bridge. Jim's heart was hammering in his chest as he prepared himself for what they might see. He knew it probably wouldn't be that bad, but he was prepared for the worst.

Then he saw it, and his heart jumped out of his chest.

The city was... a ruin. That was the only word Spock could think of to describe it. A quick scan of the surface revealed several humanoid life signs in the vicinity – but only a few hundred at most, nothing compared to the 12.57 million inhabitants who lived in the city before communications were severed.

He informed the bridge of such.

"Spock, any ships in the vicinity?"

"No, Captain."

"Then we need a team on the surface to start locating survivors and transporting them to the Enterprise. Lieutenant Uhura, get our guests to meet me in the transporter room," Jim said.

"Yes, sir."

"Captain–" Spock began, but Jim cut him off.

"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Spock. With me."

He pressed the button on his chair's comm. "Kirk to McCoy. Bones, meet me in the transporter room. I need you on the away team."

"I'll be right there."

"Sulu, you have the conn. Set up continual long-range scans for the Klingon ship or ships. They've obviously been here already, but that doesn't mean they won't be back, so contact me if they show up," he said, then he stalked away, Spock following a half step behind.

They arrived in the transporter room at the same time as the doctor, and Dean, Sam, and Cas weren't far behind.

"It's about time I gave you these," he told them, handing them each a phaser.

"Thank you, but I'd prefer to use my angel blade," Cas said, pulling a long silver dagger out of his trench coat.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" Kirk exclaimed. "I thought we searched you for weapons when we first contained you! I'm not wrong about this, am I? Spock?"

"You are correct, Captain. We searched each one of the prisoners for weapons before attempting to contain them in the brig," Spock confirmed.

"Well, no one said we couldn't keep a few tricks up our sleeves," Dean said, smiling at his own joke.

"Dude."

"What?" he asked, turning to Sam.

"That was possibly the worst pun I've heard in my life. And the worst timing," Sam added as an afterthought, sending Jim a pointed glance.

"We're wasting time," Kirk said, and Dean noticed his distinct lack of smile.

...oh, yeah. His brother's down there. If it were Dean's Sammy in the fix, he would have been shooting daggers at anyone who joked around during the rescue mission.

"Scotty, six to beam down," Kirk continued, pointedly not looking anyone in the eye.

"Aye, Cap'n."

Despite himself, Dean couldn't help but be a little bit excited as they stepped onto the transporter pad. He'd always wanted to do this, but they were on a serious mission right now. As he felt himself tingle out of existence, his eyes turned of their own accord to Castiel, who looked oddly comfortable with this mode of transport. Was this how angels experienced their popping back and forth?

He would never know, Dean supposed.

They materialized in the middle of what could only be described as utter decimation. It was eerily quiet, with only the occasional moan of the wounded breaking the silence. And wounded there were – five that Dean could see, three he could tell were beyond his battlefield medicinal skills, and one who was, for all intents and purposes, dead. That kind of bleeding out of that kind of leg wound... well. If he couldn't get the injured somewhere safe to operate—if fishing line and a sewing needle counted as operating—then he couldn't save him, could he?

"My God, it's worse than I expected," McCoy said, mostly to himself. "At least these ones are saveable."

Ah, twenty-third century medicine.

"Start locating survivors and having Scotty beam them up," Kirk ordered. "We need to get these civilians out of here as soon as possible."

Twenty-third century transportation, too. Morbidly useful. Not that Dean had the right to call much of anything morbid, not after all he's done.

Kirk glared at Dean. "Winchester. Fan out, search for survivors. Stick in pairs – you're with your brother. Spock, with Castiel. Bones–"

"Got it, Jim."

"Wait," Dean said.

"What?!" Jim almost-shouted. "People are dying here! We don't have time–"

"No," Dean said, and he used his hunting voice. "We don't. But there might still be Klingons down here. First rule of the battlefield, make sure you've got a safe location before you go off being heroic and saving other people. I know you want to find your brother—can't blame you—but the safety of the rescue party comes first." When Jim opened his mouth to speak, Dean plowed on. "Else who's gonna save them? I can't declare you unfit for duty – I wouldn't if I could, because I know how that feels when it's your fucking family on the line, but I will say that you are emotionally compromised and that if you don't listen to me right now, I will knock you the fuck out and go save George on my own, you hear me?"

Dean almost wasn't surprised when Jim nodded.

"Okay, first," Dean said, directing his orders to the others now, "Sam, go search out a temporary base. You know what to look for. Spock, you cover him. Cas, help me get those wounded over here. Don't heal them yet – save your strength. McCoy, do what you can, and get Cas to do what you can't. Only beam up the ones who need it the most – even the Enterprise has got limited capacity, and Chapel's only got so many surgeons. And Cas – be on the lookout. Klingon's aren't as quick as demons but they've got long-range weapons. McCoy, describe them to him so he'll know what he's looking for. Kirk, we're going to scout for the enemy in a circular pattern. We come across any wounded, we're going to direct them back here and keep going. If they can't walk, we'll show one who's strong enough to carry them where they are. Okay?"

"Okay," Jim said, sounding oddly quiet. Dean looked down to see that his hands were shaking.

He took them in his. "We're going to be okay," Dean said. "This is going to work. I can't tell you if we'll find George, but we're sure as hell not giving up on him without a fight. You hear me?"

Jim nodded.

"Okay, let's go," Dean said, putting his hunting voice back on. He gestured to Jim, and they made their way into the rubble.

As time wore on and they sent more and more survivors back to Cas and McCoy—and came across more and more corpses, though no Klingons yet—Jim was getting steadily more anxious to find his brother. After a while Dean stopped and turned to him.

"Hey, man, don't worry. We'll find him. You've gotta focus."

"I know," Jim said. "It's just—I just–"

"Is somebody there?" a voice called out. It seemed to be coming from a pile of rubble. Jim and Dean rushed to the pile and began throwing rocks out of the way until finally they uncovered a man and a boy, trapped between the rubble and what was left of a building's wall.

"Sam?" Jim exclaimed. "Sam!"

The man squinted – head injury. "Jimmy?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," Jim said excitedly. "Just hold on a minute – we'll get you out of here."

"Jimmy," George repeated, giving a sad smile. "I'm so sorry–" His words were beginning to slur.

"No, no, it's okay," Jim said, throwing the remainder of the rubble aside. His voice now held a hint of nervousness. "Just tell me where you and Peter are hurt, we'll get you back to the beam-up point–"

He stopped talking when George closed his eyes.

"Hey!" Dean barked, snapping his fingers in George's face before moving to pick the boy—Peter—up. "Stay awake – Jim, keep him awake! I don't have the training or equipment to deal with head wounds, he needs to stay alert until–"

Jim started at the unmistakable sound of a phaser shot.

Dean stared hard into the area behind them, his discharged phaser held in both hands. Jim turned to see a stunned Klingon laying on the ground just behind a wall that was still mostly standing. He drew his phaser, too, but Dean shook his head.

"It looks like it was just the one, but there have to be others somewhere nearby. We need to get Sam and Peter and get back to camp, now."

He pulled out his communicator. "Winchester to McCoy."

"McCoy here."

"We've got a stunned Klingon and two wounded here – we need the captive to figure out what the hell is going on here, but–"

"No way in hell," Jim snarled. "We're not leaving them."

"I wasn't suggesting it," Dean said, his voice strangely calm. "McCoy, could you send Cas over here? We need–"

Phaser fire echoed through the speakers. Jim waited breathlessly as he helped Sam to his feet – only for the man to collapse again. At least this time it was into Jim's arms.

"No can do," McCoy's voice said. "We've got hostiles here—Castiel's holding them off—Damn it kid, dodge the shots, don't just plow right through them!—but I'm halfway through repairing a snapped neck, I can't just–"

The sound cut off abruptly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed.

From the area near his feet, a small voice piped up. "I can walk."

Problem solved.

"Winchester to Winchester. Where are you, Sammy? Have you and Spock found a good place yet? We found Kirk's brother and nephew and need to get them to safety."

"We've found a building to the east of where we started," Sam answered. "We're almost done scouting out the area and it doesn't look like there are any Klingons around."

"Good," Dean replied. "Get back to the beam-down point asap – sounds like Cas and Bones ran into some trouble with the Klingons, but I don't know how bad it is. Their phones—damn it, communicators—aren't working, but that could just be Cas, I don't know."

"On our way," Sam said, and cut the signal.

"Okay, let's go," Jim said, placing George's arm carefully around his shoulder.

With George as injured as he was, they weren't able to travel very quickly, so it was a long slow walk to the base Sam and Spock had found. When they were about halfway there, George stopped them.

"Wait, Jim stop," he said, sounding like it took every ounce of his energy to do it.

"What is it, Sam? We have to keep moving."

"I don't think I can make it," he breathed.

"We're not leaving you behind," Jim growled.

"You have to. We're moving too slowly. You have to get my son to safety." The last part was barely a whisper and his eyes began to shut. Jim barely managed to hold him up as he began to collapse again.

"Sam? Sam! Stay with me, Sam, I know you can make it – you have to! You can't just leave me again–"

George let out a breathy chuckle. "Don't you pull the pity card on me, Jimmy, I can see right through you. Always could." He took a rasping breath, and Jim let out a little sob. "Just-look after Pete for me, will you?"

And with one last sigh, he fell silent.

"No," Jim said. "No. This isn't happening." He tried to sound resolute, but his voice came out undeniably shaky.

"What's not happening?" Peter asked. "Why did Dad stop talking? He never stops talking unless Mom tells him to."

"Peter," Jim said. "Your dad, he – he, uh, he's..." But he couldn't get the words out. He was too busy trying not to choke on his tears.

Dean's heart gave a tug of empathy. He knelt down in front of Peter and put his hand on his shoulder, just like he had that one time when he'd had to explain to Sammy why they didn't have a mom even though everyone else did. "Your dad didn't make it," he said as gently as he could. "He's dead."