*******************

Sam woke with a jolt. He glanced at the various skins covering him and threw them off, taking in his surroundings quickly, blinking in the light that filtered through the thatched hut. Hut? Were they back? He pushed to his feet and ducked outside, blinking in the sun's glare. A man passed by and smiled with a small wave of greeting. Sam raised his hand, and hurried to the hut where Dean had been staying, on the other side of the village. Flung aside the flap, rushed in, and was stopped by the glare of a young woman. "Oh. OH. Sorry."

She waved at him to leave. Dean was laying beside her, solidly asleep. His flushed skin was beaded with sweat. Hell no, he wasn't leaving him.

He raised both hands in a polite, but determined manner and slowly approached them, crouching beside his brother. His flesh was hot to the touch. A strong medicinal smell rose from the pot near his head. He noticed several bones of birds and various other woodland creatures in a semi circle around him. Obviously healer's magic, though the shaman was nowhere to be seen.

The woman watched him steadily, with a hint of mistrust. When Sam reached for Dean again, she stopped him, her small hand flying out to intercept his. She spoke her language in a voice deeper than he would have expected. Maybe he was interfering. He pointed to the corner. "I'll wait," he said, leaving no room for argument. But she pointed outside.

It was a war of wills. "He's my brother," Sam said sternly, and pointed to the corner.

She barked staccato words at him, and pointed outside, the lowered her finger as Alush walked in.

Sam rose to his feet. Alush didn't look happy. He glanced at Dean, then shot a disturbed look back at Sam. Signaled curtly. Sam felt he had no choice but follow, which apparently pleased the woman.

It just pissed him off more.

****************

Dean was lost. The woods were dark and ominous, each tree standing tall and still like natural cemetery markers. The mounds of earth at each base reminded him of fresh dirt covering a new grave. They were everywhere he looked, these mounds, and they grew into small hills, each one flattened at the top. He knew he'd seen these when he was much younger, but then they held no meaning for him.

The trees had decayed and fallen, leaving tracts of clearings filled with these mounds. Some were roped off. A building stood nearby, looking out of place, and people filed in and out, carrying brightly-colored memorabilia that had little to do with the history of the people. He turned his attention back to the land.

One mound caught his eye, and he walked towards it, carefully, respectfully, wondering if Akecheta was buried there.

A thousand snakes erupted from the mound like lava from a volcano, and rained over him.

Dean cried out, cursing, wind-milling his arms, wiping them from his body. He fell backwards. They covered him instantly, and he realized he was naked, with snakes writhing over him like huge worms, hundreds of bodies rubbing against his bare skin, trying to dig inside him like maggots. Eating him.

He screamed out again and saw the tourists watching him, viewing him as a spectacle, a historical stage show. "Help me!" he cried out, terrified, and a snake slithered into his mouth.

Dean came to and nearly bit off the fingers of someone putting a bitter herb on his tongue. He choked and jerked away, scrambling to the other side of the hut, spitting, wiping at his mouth with a dust-covered hand, cowering in the corner as his eyes adjusted. The back of his hand protected his mouth as the memory of thousands of snakes preyed on him. He blinked the hut back into focus, and saw the raven-haired woman watching him, still startled by his waking, but with one delicate hand out in an offering of peace. It was the same lady he'd first seen when he and Sam had arrived at the village. The one he'd scared when she tried to heal his scratches. And now she was back, again, helping him. He watcher her. His shoulder twinged, and he raised his hand to the injury. It was freshly bound, the wound neatly tended to.

He steadied his breathing, and used her as a focal point to ground himself. "Dean." He pointed to his chest, speaking softly, trying to swallow back the dream, and the lingering sensation of wriggling bodies covering his. "I'm - my name's Dean." He gave a gentle nod, and pointed to her, slowly.

And just as slowly, she pulled her hand back to point to herself. "Hatokwassi"

"Hak – Hatowus" Dean gave his head a shake, and grinned. She smiled at him, and he felt his heart jump.

"Ha-tok-wassi."

"Ha-tok-wassi." Dean grinned. "No way in hell I'm gonna remember that."

"Deen." She pointed to him. "Hai." She pointed to herself.

"Hai, huh? That I think I can work with." He smiled again, then let his expression fall questioningly as he slowly, god, so slowly, shifted towards her. "I'm sorry about all that. I didn't mean to scare you. Again."

She spoke, her finger circling her head. At first Dean thought she was saying he was crazy, and he wasn't about to argue that, but as she circled the finger around her own head, and feigned sleep, he understood. "What, a dream? Yeah. Had a bastard of a dream." He thought for a moment, then circled a finger around his head, and gave an exaggerated frown. He schooled his face, not allowing a smile to come through, showing he was still disturbed.

She nodded, and put her hand on the blanket he'd been sleeping on, speaking again, smoothing the fabric. Her eyes questioned his. Her face was open now, no longer afraid of him.

Dean hesitated, then slowly pulled himself back to the blanket, being mindful of his shoulder, and let her guide him down. Her hair reflected the small fire in ribbons of orange. Her dark skin glowed. Her eyes were obsidian chips, and he couldn't stop staring at them. He'd seen eyes that dark only in demons, and had learned to fear them, but in her it was beautiful.

Easy, big guy, he warned himself. And he probably could have restrained himself if she hadn't rubbed a cool salve between her hands, then ran her hands over his bare chest.

His breath caught. He couldn't help it. Her hair tickled his face and chin as she leaned over him, looking briefly into his eyes before concentrating on her work. His cuts and scratches were still a bit sore, but under her touch the discomfort melted away. Even his shoulder stopped hurting for a moment, or at least he didn't care if it did. He hair trailed over his chest as she worked her magic over the muscled lines of his stomach, then started down his legs. Only then did he notice, and care, that he was completely naked, and that Dean Jr. was fully aware. Funny, he wasn't embarrassed by it. He wanted her to know, because with her slow strokes, it was obvious she knew exactly what she was doing. He wanted ask her why. They hadn't really talked, though he'd definitely noticed her eyeing him, and that was because he kept eyeing her.

The gentle hands rubbed over his sore legs, and ankles, and she settled herself at his feet. Carefully lifting his left foot, she massaged his toes, the ball, his arch, pressing her thumbs into the most sore spots and circling the pain away. His eyes rolled back and fluttered closed as he practically purred with pleasure. After a time she started on his right, then worked her hands back up his legs, his thighs, to his stomach, his chest, neck, and massaged his temples. He was drifting, horny as hell but too relaxed and exhausted to do anything about it except curse his Winchester luck.

She settled beside him, stretched against his body, and together they slept.

**********************

"We didn't know where he was, how to get to him." Sam drilled a hole in the earthen floor with his eyes. He felt ashamed. Warriors never left their own behind, right? Unless ravens were plucking out their eyes on the field. Did these people follow rules like that? Were there rules at all? Maybe it was all for one, and he didn't screw things up.

Alush had listened to Sam's story carefully. For a while he didn't speak. He smoked on a thin pipe, just large enough to fit comfortably into his hand. The fire crackled. A good smell came from a pot sitting on a stone beside it. It made Sam hungry. He stared at it, meditating on the orange glow that was almost swallowed by the iron. He waited for the chief to say something, anything.

"It is well you escaped," he said, finally. "Though I believe they allowed you to leave."

It would explain the relative ease of their escape, considering who they were fleeing. "They let us go? Why?"

Alush spoke thoughtfully around his pipe. "To kill you would be a bad omen. They have powerful magic and firm beliefs. You did not attack them."

"Then why take us in the first place? Why shoot Dean?"

"That was from a foolish boy. Green Eyes is white man. He was hunted."

Sam smiled at the name. Green Eyes. "How do you know this?"

"I know them." Alush placed the pipe back into his mouth. He puffed.

There was no doubt that Alush did know the Cherokee. He'd probably studied their ways and tactics. Sam wondered how different the two tribes truly were. "I know the Creek and the Cherokee have been enemies for a long time," he said, slowly. "I've heard they raid each other's villages."

"Not us. We keep from each other."

"Is Akecheta in danger? Will they let him go?"

Alush didn't speak for a while. When he did set down his pipe, it was with such care that Sam leaned forward in anticipation. "It is hard to say. Akecheta is not of us. He was born Cherokee."

Sam leaned back slowly, in surprise. "Cherokee?"

Alush exhaled slowly, gathering his words. "My father want peace amongst all our brothers. Band together to fight the white man. Join a man and a woman from our tribes. He arranged it with chief of Cherokee." Alush laced his fingers together. "He wanted blood tie. But old Cherokee chief die. Ahweh, new chief. He cast out woman and newborn child. Would not claim their blood." Alush nodded slowly. "Akecheta and I grew together. We became friends. His blood means nothing to me. But he does not even have Creek name."

"How do the Cherokee feel about him now?"

"We will see. If he comes back, we will know they care little for him. They will not risk war over one they think nothing of. The white colony is too near. They need us, and we need them. "

"I hope he comes back. I – owe him."

"As do I." Alush leaned forward, looking troubled. "I think perhaps I was - wrong - earlier. I should have ordered men across for your brother. They could have brought him back safe."

"Alush," Sam chose his words carefully, "if you and the Cherokee are so against the white men, why are we here? Why did they let us go?"

"We are not at war with the white man. This colony has offered no ill-will. Yet." He gave Sam a piercing stare.

Sam pressed his lips together. "I'm not going to presume to know what you were thinking, or what I would have done in your shoes," he said slowly. "I appreciate it now."

"I feared for Aketcha. He is good brother to me. That was when I realized my mistake, but I was angry."

"I understand." Maybe not so much, but this was a strange world, and he didn't grasp even the fringes of it. To him, they should have all charged the river to save his brother, without question. And had it been for a true Mvskoke, maybe they would have.

"Eat." The pot was removed from the stone and set before Sam. "Is hot."

"How is Dean?" Sam asked, eyeing the broth.

"He is tended to. He will be new man." Alush smiled mischievously around his pipe.

***************************

Dean stumbled out of his empty hut the next morning, and fell back against the side wall. His head swam like he'd just emptied a bar of its heaviest liquor. The ground shifted beneath his feet, and he groaned softly, bracing himself against the side of the hut with one hand until the sensation passed. His stomach rolled. But the pain was gone. A cloud moved, and the sudden glare of light blinded him. He threw an angry hand against it.

"Hey!" Sam's voice was too damn chipper. "You're up!"

Dean squinted against the glare to see his brother loping towards him. The moment of relief at seeing Sam was threatened by the sound of his voice. "Oh, Christ, dude. Lower the volume, will ya?"

"Sorry." Sam stood right in front of him, hands on hips. "You okay?" He was smiling, but concern shone in his eyes.

"Somebody spiked the damn wine." He leaned. His hand reached out, feeling for the ground. Rather than fall, Sam guided him down.

"You had wine?" Sam grinned, sitting beside him.

Dean groaned lightly. "God, feels like I drank a damn keg of something. My teeth hurt. Whatever they use for healing around here, it knocks you on your ass." He blinked, and took in his seated position, trying to remember how he got down there. "Shit."

Sam chuckled. "Seriously, how you feeling otherwise? Should you even be up?"

He wasn't sure. "I feel like you're jumping up and down on my head, asshole, so cut it out." He frowned. "Where's Akecheta?"

A flash of worry crossed the dark features. "I don't know. But Alush seems to think he'll be okay."

"Why?"

Then Sam had that look, a certain pride at revealing information. Dean marveled at his brother's ability to change gears. "Because he's part Cherokee."

Dean raised his brows. Waved his hand around. "These people aren't Cherokee. They're that – muskrat something."

"Mvskoke. Creeks. Yeah, exactly."

Oh, it was too damn early for all this. He exhaled forcefully though his nose and rubbed his forehead. "Okay, then why is he here and not there?"

"Alush's father attempted to join a Creek and Cherokee tribe to fight against the white men that were destroying the villages at that time. These tribes stayed on either side of the river, and were constantly attacked."

"You mean this village and the one we made our great escape from."

"Right."

"And how was he going to join them together?"

"Think Romeo and Juliet."

Dean thought, and his head hated him for it. "Didn't they commit suicide?"

"Either way, Akecheta ended up here, with no mention of his Cherokee blood. Alush's father took him in."

Dean frowned around the news. "It's all the same, isn't it? I mean an Indian is an Indian."

"Got two words for you. Civil War."

Point taken. "So, you think maybe the Cherokee didn't want him cause of this mixed blood, and let him go?"

"I'll tell you this. If they did just let him go, there has to be a good reason behind it."

Dean was trying to think again. "Well, if they kill him, it could start a war."

"And that might be the reason."

He knew his brother. He saw the way Sam avoided his eyes, like when he was little and lying about eating the last of the cereal while keeping the toy that was supposed to be Dean's. "You're not convinced."

"I just think there's more going on here." He spotted a young woman watching them. She offered a small smile, but didn't duck away. "Dude, who's that lady staring at you?"

"Hm? Oh. There she is." Dean stood and brushed off the back of his pants. "I'll be back. Try to stay in one piece, huh?"

"Wait, Dean? Where are you going? Dean?"

************************

Sam didn't see Dean for the rest of the morning. Or that afternoon. When Dean did come back, he showed signs of a distinct glow that made Sam bristle. "Where the hell were you?" He took in Dean's smile, and checked. "Guess I don't need to ask what you've been up to."

"Ah, Sammy." His brother looked blissed out. "I could almost stay here, you know? Nothing to fight, well, except maybe the people across the river but I figure if I just stay out of their reach. . ." he shrugged, "outta sight, outta mind, all that crap. . ."

"Your fever's come back, hasn't it?" Sam raised his hand to feel Dean's head, but it was batted away.

"Back off. Get your own woman."

"Get your own woman? Dean! That sounded almost. . ." he frowned, "that – sounded like more than a one night stand."

"It was a full afternoon, nosy. Different animal altogether." Dean threaded his fingers behind his head and reclined against the rough bark of a leaning tree. Looking too damn content.

Sam wasn't sure how to take this new development. Dean going off with a chick, sure, that happened all the time but this? He looked happy, which was great, but – "You do realize you've just met, right?"

Dean glanced at him. "And? Didn't take long for you to get hung up over Madison."

At least he made his point with a level of appropriate restraint in his soft voice. Madison would be a touchy subject forever, it seemed. Sam didn't know why. He liked her, he was horny as hell, he wanted to save her, he shot her, end of story. He couldn't save the monster she'd become. Or he'd become. And that thought just. . .no. He was tired of thinking about it, tired of feeling sorry for himself.

He had to admit it was a point well-taken.

"Whatever, dude," Sam sighed. A man was stumbling out of the woodlands below them, his uneven gait catching his attention. He stared, then slowly rose to his feet. "I don't believe it."

"What is it?" Dean pushed off the tree.

But Sam was already walking, not answering his brother. He heard Dean exclaim, and felt his brother's presence at his shoulder as they walked together, then ran, towards Akecheta who was staggering towards them.

Dean's arms wrapped around the man as he fell to the ground in exhaustion. Sam braced Akecheta's face and raised it to his, wincing at the bruises. They were immediately surrounded by the women working the fields, who were distracted by the minor commotion. Men were running down the hill. Alush was with them. Zertepe was close behind.

Sam and Dean stood aside as the warrior was hoisted amongst them and carried away. In the distance, Hai watched, her face alight with relief. Sam saw Dean's expression fall slightly. He took his brother's arm, and together they followed the group.

***********************

Alush stood outside the healing tent. Zertepe walked out, and gave a single nod. Alush let his shoulders relax. "He is well?"

"He is hurting. They could have done worse."

"Did he say how he escaped?"

Zertepe pulled up the cloak that had slid from his shoulder. "He says no one was outside his tent. He ran. They followed, but he kept running."

Alush shook his head slightly. "They are to be feared on foot. They would have captured again."

"Then it is plain they did not wish to capture him," was all Zertepe could offer him in response. He saw Green Eyes and Tall One hovering, and walked over to them.

They let Akecheta go? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. They let him go, and they let the two white men go. It gave him an ill-feeling. It was unlike the warrior clan to do this.

He watched as the medicine man talked to Green Eyes briefly, while giving attention to Tall One. Green Eyes looked surprised, but nodded. Then he smiled.

Again, Alush shook his head. He had seen Green Eyes and Hatokwassi together. He knew the young woman had watched the man since his arrival. Zertepe and Hatokwassi had spent many nights together discussing him and the ways of his people, and the repercussions of mating outside the tribe with a white man. But many were doing it these days, becoming half bloods and having children that were less. Everything was changing. And yet, there were so many that would not have it happen.

And, if in this miserable time, it was something that made his little sister happy, what right had he to deny her?

***************************

The following days were disturbingly normal. Sam learned to ground corn. He went hunting with the warriors. He turned the spit.

Dean did all this as well, and found plenty of time to squeeze in with Hai. It worried Sam. He felt they were losing the purpose of their being thrown back in time, if that was what happened. At night, he could feel the veil parting, hear a voice beckoning him to hurry. He would wake, thinking it was a dream, but continue to hear the voice until he was convinced his skull was about to split open. But he didn't know what to do. The only thing their hunts produced was meat for the table, usually rabbit, but sometimes it was larger game. If he hadn't known the phrase "mating like rabbits" he'd fear for their extinction.

Dean apparently was appreciating the phrase. His happiness had him healing quickly, to the point where he could turn the spit without too much trouble. He weakened from time to time, but for the most part he looked robust, tanned, healthy. And happier than Sam had seen him in a long time. But they had to leave this behind.

They had to.

Day followed day, and drifted into weeks. They fell into a predictable and comfortable rhythm. Sam picked up a few words, then sentences, and could converse comfortably with both Alush and Zertepe. Several of the younger boys had taken it upon themselves to show Sam a variation of stick ball, thinking with his height and speed, he would be an advantage. But he couldn't hit the small leather ball that sailed through the air. With his hands he tried explaining that he needed a proper bat, and was laughed at.

At night, they gathered with the rest of the people around the fire, enjoyed the drink, listened and laughed at stories they didn't understand. Sam sat near Dean, but his brother was smitten, and rarely left Hai's side. He saw Alush watching them with a mixture of pride and sadness, and wondered what he knew.

His eyes lowered at Dean's laugh. He was happy for him. He really was.

He was so damned lonely.

******************************

If he had walked out and heard bluebirds singing, well, that'd be Disney-overkill, but Dean felt just about that damn good.

Two weeks had passed. Two weeks of hard, honest, non-troublesome work (well, if one could consider hunting for food non-troublesome, and these people just didn't get the Elmer Fudd reference, so he had to stop yelling it out when he spotted their prey). Nights of companionship, and then more companionship. Nothing was cursed, nothing was trying to kill them. No running, no fraud, no choice but to be exactly who he was at every moment. To have a whole community watch out for him, and for him to watch out for them. It was – indescribable. He tried to tell Sam, but he just received a sad smile in return, one he would wave away in disgust. Because he knew.

He knew good and goddamned well they couldn't stay.

He didn't care. Dammit, he'd find a way if he had to.

He found Sam squatting near a man who was showing him how to tie – something. It just looked like a bunch of thin string to him, and he shook his head in confusion, crossing his arms, studying the threads that were wrapped dangerously tight around Sam's fingers, making the tips red. "This a new kink?"

Sam glanced up. "Hm? Oh. Hey." He frowned back at his knots as the man leaned forward and pointed to a piece around his thumb, mumbling softly.

Dean squatted beside him. "Whatcha doing?"

"Failing." Sam was studying his fingers.

Dean nodded. "Well, since you're so tied up, guess you can't go for a walk, huh?"

"Why? Hai off with her girlfriends?" Sam didn't look up.

Dean stood and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Come on, Sammy."

"No, it's cool." With help, Sam unwrapped his fingers and handed the thread back to the man, who took it calmly. "I'm not gonna get in the way of it." He shouldered past.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sam." Dean grabbed his arm. "Look, can we talk about this? Huh? You owe me that."

"I owe you?"

"Talk about a cold shoulder? Frozen ice is like the sun compared to you." He studied his brother. "You don't look good. You been sleeping?"

"Would you care?"

"Of course I care, Sammy! What's bugging you?"

Sam jerked his arm away. "You serious?"

"Look, if this is about me hooking up with some chick, she's got a sister, I can put in a word."

Sam was livid. He jerked away from Dean. "Is that all you think about? Are you really that shallow?"

"Well, damn, Sammy, tell me how you really feel!"

"You wanna know how I feel? It isn't gonna work, and I don't want to be the one to tell you that!"

"What isn't?"

"You and Hai! You going around like you were born here! You spending your time with her when we should be figuring out what the hell's going on around here!"

"Jealous much?"

He thought Sam was going to swing at him. He really thought it, and he wanted it. "So rather than telling me this earlier, your plan is to let me fall on my face and figure it out for myself, is that it?"

"Yes!"

Dean closed in. "You are a real son of a bitch, you know that?" he muttered, glaring, and turned.

This time Sam grabbed his arm, and steered him away from the village center. He held tight, to Dean's annoyance, until they reached the edge of the treeline. He could have decked him one, spur on that fight that he wanted, that would clear his mind. But part of him really wanted to hear what Sam had to say. "Okay. Listen to me." Sam stood nose to nose with him, thought the proximity wasn't needed. "You can't do this, and you know you can't do this, so why the hell do you need me to rub your face in it?"

"Why not? Don't you want to?"

"No! No, I don't!"

Dean blinked. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I want you to be happy, Dean! God! Do you think everything you say to me goes in one ear and out the other? You think all that with the Djinn didn't stick? You think I don't know that you want a normal life?" He pushed his hair back and laughed. "Not that this is normal, hell, I'm still not convinced we're really here."

"What, you think we're back in some tent dreaming this?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what I think. And what's more, he's talking to me."

Dean frowned. "Whoa, whoa, hold up. Who's talking to you?"

Sam looked so tired. Why hadn't Dean noticed before? "Grampa. He's telling us to hurry."

What the. . .Dean took a step back, confused. "And just how the hell is he doing that?"

"I dream about him, I can hear him, I don't know! It doesn't matter."

Dean didn't like it. Gramps shouldn't be piercing the veil, and definitely not if it was going to make his brother look like the walking dead. "Well, what the hell does he want us to do, huh? Hurry up and wait? What are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Sure as hell not fall in love!"

Dean's mouth closed, and he blinked in astonishment. He took another step back. "Sam, wait. I'm not. . ."

The bastard smiled. He thought this was funny? "Oh, you so are. I can't believe you don't know it."

He rose to the defense. "It's like you said. I don't know her!"

"Apparently you do."

Dean had nothing more to say. He raised a finger, gritted his teeth, snarled his lips, and dropped his hand. Turned away. He was breathing heavily, angrily. Because what Sam said was true. And he knew his ability to stay was fragile at best, especially if Gramps was going to stick his nose in where it wasn't wanted. That old man was getting on his last nerve.

"Dean. Talk to me."

"No." Muttered.

"Dean, please."

"Stay away from me, Sam. Just leave me alone." He felt a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and spun, knocking it away. "Don't! Just – don't." Damn those puppy eyes. Why couldn't he just look hurt for once, instead of making him feel so damn guilty? Why couldn't he have just punched Dean's lights out instead?

Sam backed away one step. Two. Looking injured. "Okay."

Dean nodded, his eyes on the ground. When he looked up, his brother was gone.