Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness.
I am SO sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out to you. Snarks and I have been crazy busy writing our Sam/Lucifer story, and we didn't have time to edit this. The story is done now, so I shouldn't keep you waiting too long for the sixth and final chapter.
Chapter Five
Dean followed Amelia at a distance through the streets of Kermit until her cab pulled into a cul-de-sac of houses. He parked the Impala at the side of the road and climbed out. Stroking the hood as he passed, he watched as she climbed out of her cab and made her way up the steps to a nice looking, two-story house.
She let herself in with a key and closed the door behind her. When she was out of sight, Dean jogged down the street and unlatched the back gate, letting himself into the yard. There was dog dozing in a patch of sunlight. It stirred as Dean passed and then fell back to sleep. Pleased that there dog wasn't going to be a problem, he climbed the few steps onto the back porch and pulled his lock pick out of his back pocket. The lock was simple, and he had it open in a few clicks. As he opened the door, voices reached him.
"You nearly killed him, Don! What were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry," a mournful male voice replied. "I couldn't bear the thought of it. You and him together. We had something Amelia. Why did you have to go back to him?"
"I didn't go back. I told you. I saw him and had to make sure it was him. That's all. I barely said two words to him."
"I believe you," the man said. "And I'm sorry for what I did. I never meant to scare you."
"Scare me! What about Sam? You could have killed him, Don!"
"I'm so sorry." It sounded like the man was crying. It was that sound that spurred Dean into action. Anger filled him. That was the man that had shot Sam. He could have killed him. He had no right to cry over his own troubles after what he did to Sam.
He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and around the arch separating him from Amelia and Don.
"You're not sorry, yet," he said through gritted teeth. "But you will be."
He raised his gun, and Amelia screamed. Dean guessed seeing a gun pulled twice in one evening had to be a shock for anyone. He had no sympathy for her, though. She was beyond his concern.
Don got to his feet and raised his hands in front of him in a placatory way. Dean had a horrible mental image of Sam doing the same, and he cringed inwardly.
"Dean, please don't do this!" Amelia pleaded.
"Is that what my brother said?" he asked. "When this dickwad pulled the gun on him. Did he beg and plead, too?"
"Who's this?" Don asked.
"My name is Dean, and I am the brother of the man you shot last night. I'm here for a little old fashioned revenge."
The man gulped. "It was an accident. I never meant to hurt anyone."
Dean laughed wryly. "Then you shouldn't have pulled the trigger. That's a foolproof way not to hurt someone."
"He tackled me. The gun went off. It was an accident." He was babbling now. It pleased Dean. He could see the film of sweat on Don's brow; he was scared. That pleased Dean, too. He wanted him to feel the same fear Sam must have felt as he bled out.
"You're not so brave without your gun, are you?" Dean said. "Where is it now?" He needed to know that man was unarmed. He couldn't have Amelia getting hurt in the crossfire. Sam would never forgive him.
"I dumped it," the man said.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Very smart. Now you've got nothing to defend yourself with. Just like my brother had nothing."
"Dean, please," Amelia said. "Don't shoot him!"
Dean smiled grimly. "I'm not going to shoot him." He pulled the clip from his gun, stuffed it in his pocket, and then shoved the gun down the back of his pants again. "I'm not a coward like him. I fight my battles with my fists."
The little composure Don had gained when Dean pulled the clip from the gun disappeared as Dean looked him in the eye.
"I'm not going to fight you," Don said in an attempt at saving face.
"That's too bad," Dean said with a grim smile. "'Cause I'm gonna fight you."
The man looked away from Dean and opened his mouth to address Amelia. That was his mistake. As soon as he turned, Dean sprung into action. He ran forward and swung back his fist. He landed a punch to Don's jaw, and the man cried out in pain. Using Don's capitulation to his advantage, Dean punched him on the nose. Blood streamed from his nose and spattered onto his shirt. Dean relished in the sight of the blood. He gripped the collar of Don's shirt and shoved him against the wall.
"Fight me!" he snarled. "You were a big man with a gun. Prove to your woman that you're a man now." He wanted the fight. He wanted this man to fight back. In his heart of hearts, he wanted Don to beat him, too, to punish him for his part in this nightmare. He hadn't known what would happen when he sent that text, he hadn't even known Amelia had someone else, but it was a low trick nonetheless.
He released Don and stepped back, holding his hands out at his sides. "Come on. I'm an easy target. Take a swing."
Don pushed away from the wall and pulled back a fist. His blow landed on Dean's jaw, and pain rocked through him. He absorbed it in silence, not giving Don the satisfaction of knowing he had been hurt.
Don aimed another blow at him, and Dean caught his wrist. Twisting it behind his back, he pushed Don forward. He fell and landed hard of a wooden coffee table which splintered apart at the impact. A leg broke off, and Don reached for it.
"Coward!" Dean snapped, kicking the wood away. "Use your fists."
Don was on all fours on the floor, and Dean aimed a kick at his ribs. He felt something give beneath his boot, and Don groaned. Don pushed himself painfully to his feet and raised his hands in front of him.
"I don't want to fight you"—he snapped out a fist and caught Dean's cheek—"but I will."
The blow scraped Dean's inside cheek across his teeth, drawing blood. He spat blood on the floor and gritted his bloodstained teeth. He punched Don across the cheek, and as Don buckled, he grabbed the back of his neck and forced his head down. With his free arm, he swung a fist into Don's gut. Over and over again, he slammed his fist into Don, grunting with satisfaction as he made contact. Finally, he brought his knee up and rammed it into Don's injured ribs. The man cried out, and Dean shoved him away. Don sprawled onto the floor, his face dripping blood and his hand nursing his ribs.
"What are you waiting for?" Don asked. "You've beaten me, now get your gun and finish the job."
"I've already told you, I'm not a coward," Dean spat. "I will make you a promise. If you ever come near my brother or me again, I will kill you. Even think about calling the police, and I will tell them exactly what you did to my brother."
"You…" Amelia cleared her throat. "You aren't going to the police?"
Dean shook his head. "Me and my brother, we live below the radar. We deal with our problems the old-fashioned way. Your husband has been dealt with, but if he comes for us again, he will pay the price. You know Sam has another life, right? You've sensed it."
Amelia nodded.
"That life is dangerous. We are dangerous."
"Are you warning me off?" Amelia asked. She had been silent through Don and Dean's fight, cowering in a corner. Now she was regaining some of her backbone.
"Let's just call it is a bit of friendly advice," Dean said. "And while I'm feeling charitable, I'll give you a bit more." He looked down at Don still sprawled on the floor. "Get rid of him."
Amelia looked sad, and Dean felt a pang of guilt for what he was doing to her. She had seen her boyfriend shot, had seen her husband beaten senseless and was now being warned away. He pushed away the guilt and concentrated on the bigger picture. This woman was no good for Sam, and as the older brother, it was Dean's job to look out for him. He was doing Sam a favor.
He turned away from Amelia and examined his reflection in the mirror. His lip was busted and there was a redness on his jaw that would bruise soon, but he was definitely better off than Don, and that was all that mattered.
Amelia had knelt beside Don on the floor, and she was wiping at his bloody nose with a tissue. Dean cast her a scathing look. After all Don had done, she was going to stay with him; it was obvious.
Turning away from the nauseating image, he let himself out of the front door and walked back to the Impala.