Done posting chapters for today! Off to finish up the next few! (I like to post a few at a time since I have short chapters. Very short chapters.)

Chapter Rating: T (Language)

The sweat was pouring off the older Winchester's back, soaking through his plaid shirt. He swung the lasso around his head a few times for a warm up. Sam was to his left, on the other side of the cattle shoot, waiting with his arm poised in the air. Both brothers were ready, their mounts twitching at every loud sound in the arena. The steer was loaded into the shoot. The flag barrier across Sam's lane waved in the wind as Dean watched the man at the gate to the shoot. With a small nod at Sam, Dean gave the man the cue.

The steer leapt from the shoot like a rocket, but Sam's horse, Prius, was faster. He quickly roped the steer, whipping its head around, getting it in the perfect position for Dean to lasso the hind legs. Dean's rope felt like an extension of his arm. He let it fly as his Baby galloped with all her might. The rope tangled around the steer's legs soundly, and Baby threw her immense, midnight black bulk against the pull while Dean held on with all his might. The rope snapped taught and the muscles of both Winchester's burned with exertion. The whistle blew and both men looked up at the timer. The color commentator read out the time, 8.73 seconds.

The brother's let out a whoop. They were the last run of the day and had beat the first place time by four hundredths of a second. The two rode their horses out of the arena with a triumphant air. Dean waved his Stetson in the air at the meager sized crowd. These were the low levels, so not very many people came. A very happy John waited for them as they dismounted by their trainer.

"That was great, boys. An eight second run is the average time for an intermediate level team. We need to work on your start, Dean. Baby isn't getting out of the gate fast enough. And Sam, you have to feel your through. You are aiming too long."

"Love you, too, Dad," Dean replied. Sam just laughed and adjusted his hat.

"You know I love you, son. Let's get these guys back over to Bobby's before it gets too late. I'm tired, I don't know about you boys."

"You're just getting old, Pops," came Sam's reply. That caused all three of the Winchester's to start laughing.

"Whatever, kiddo. I am just going to go sign some papers. You guys do realize this qualifies you for the Midcities Rodeo? That's just about five tiers from The American. I can't even believe this."

"I know. It just hasn't sunken in yet. I mean, we are unknowns. Nobody has us on the radar. If we play our cards right, we could be moving up in he world. Right, Samantha?"

"It's Sam, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Boys! Settle down. I am heading over to the corral to pick up the check okay? I-"

The oldest of the Winchester men twisted his back to pick up a saddle and let out a pained gasp. Sam was by his side as fast as lightning.

"Dad, did you take your medication? Oh, of course you didn't!"

"Sam, you stay here with him. I'll go get the money and the papers."

John did not say anything, but Sam nodded his head in ascension. Dean began to walk away, stopping to put Baby's saddle into the trainer, what his father had been attempting to do. He gave his horse a pat on the rump as he walked. A sigh escaped his lips.

Dean was worried for his dad. He never took his medication and always overdid himself. With Sam and himself moving up in the rodeo world, the strain on the aged man was growing.

The owner of the arena gave Dean the hundred dollar check, which was hardly enough to pay of the gas out there. Yet another reason Dean was glad that the higher up the class of the rodeo, the higher the payout. The qualification papers were filled out and safely in his pocket as he strode back to the trainer parking area. He was passing by the arena when the announcer called for barrel racing to begin. Dean laughed. His father and brother wouldn't mind if he stopped to watch some fine looking women doing the pattern, would they?

If there was one event he loved to watch most at a rodeo, it was barrel racing. Most of all the women were long and lean, with muscular thighs and stomachs. Besides this, seeing a woman mastering a thousand pound animal at high speeds was enough to get almost any man weak at the knees. Dean watched the cowgirls with interest, wondering if any would give him that feeling. He smiled to himself, just last week, the fastest time of the day had invited him back to her trailer, promising the softest hay and...

Dean was startled from his daydream by the announcing of the next rider.

"And as our only male competitor in this event this evening, we have Castiel Novak. I have to tell you ladies, not only is he a looker, you have your luck cut out for you tonight!"

Deans eyes were drawn to the rider preparing to come up the lane. He was a shorter man, with unruly dark hair that peaked out from underneath his Stetson. His shirt was blue plaid, which matched his eyes. Dean could see this from all the way across the small arena because of the intensity of the blue. As the man spurred his horse into action, he raced out and to the left to the first barrel. He whipped around it with unmistakable grace, something Dean could only dream of having on horseback. The second barrel flew by, and he began to come straight towards the third, the one that Dean was just a dozen feet behind. The horse whipped, the man leaving his seat for the briefest of moments as his mount went almost horizontal, like he was taking flight. Dean could see the control of his body, the concentration on his face, the tanned skin, and the aura of frenzy that radiated off of him. As the man turned and started the straight back to the shoot, Dean turned and fled toward the trailer park, trying to ignore the weak feeling in his knees.