A/N - Just a note to say Thank You all for your awesome support! And for your incredible generosity with time and reviews. I hope you're continuing to enjoy the story, though due to a multitude of projects currently in the works I may have to put High Noon on a minor hiatus after next week's posting of chapter 4. I will do my best not to do that, but will know with more certainty next week.

As always, you have my sincerest gratitude for EVERYTHING... and most especially for being the reason I'm able to take so much enjoyment from writing.

Thank You.

sifi

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High Noon – chpt 3.

by: sifi.

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"Hey little man," Tom dropped a hand onto Sam's shoulder then sat beside him, peering between the computer screen and Sam's pocket notebook.

The reluctant Commander nodded but couldn't bring himself to speak. His most important task at the moment was learning as much as he could about each of the demons that were camped out around the house.

It's too big... I'm just a man! I feel like... I feel like I did when Dean finally told me the truth, I can't breathe... he glanced at Tommy while forcing a washboard harsh breath into his body.

"Y'know... you were about two years old when we met. I don't know if John ever told you about WHY, I don't know if he ever even told Dean. I do remember that almost as soon as it was over, the whole ordeal seemed to slip right on out of your big brothers' mind, like a dream that makes your tummy quiver but isn't quite a nightmare?" he leaned forward, trying to grab the young man's eyes with his own. A flick of those blue-greens told him Sam was listening, and understood what he meant.

"I guess you could say your brother kinda got kidnapped right out of the Impala. Had daddy-bear a downright mess, and understandably so considering what was about to happen..."

Sam turned his head sharply a piercing look to his eyes that surprised Tom. Shep and Jo joined Dean in the kitchen doorway but remained unnoticed.

"See the folks that had him were kinda trapped in maybe some kind of temporal wound," he breathed deeply, the memory of that weekend just as clear now as it had been twenty four years ago, "Your dad, Shep, Buck Forester, Cal and Ryan went to get him back and left you with me. But you wouldn't have it little man, no siree bub... You woke up from a rock hard sleep and pitched the mightiest fit I ever saw a two year old throw! You got me so freaked out, and fuddled up that... honestly?" he asked.

Sam's eyebrow arched, yes, he wanted the truth.

"I was more scared OF and FOR you and what you might do, not that you could do much at all mind you, than I was even of confronting John. So I brought you to the Marshall farm and I let myself be led by the hand, by a two year old child. And do you know what you did?" he asked.

Sam's head twitched to the side.

"You took me right to Justin Marshall's skull, and YOU told me what happened to him,"

Tommy remembered pressing his lips to Sam's temple, his arms holding him close before holding him apart from himself, "do you know what happened? How Dean got his uh oh?" he asked.

Sam smiled nodding, "Ppppbbbbbrrrrrrooooooommmmm," then raised his arm, "That."

Tommy followed the line of the boys' finger as it pointed toward the barn.

"AND what was about to happen to your brother if we didn't stop the combine that accidentally tore that little boy to pieces and set that whole wound festering," he continued.

Behind them Dean looked questioningly at Shep who nodded confirmation. Dean paled for a moment and swallowed hard as Shep smiled easily dropping a hand onto his shoulder.

"The only thing you had to go on was what was inside YOU. I was seventeen Sam, is there any part of you that thinks it's rational for a seventeen year old to listen to, let alone DO what a toddler demands?"

To his relief Sam cracked a faint smile and gave a shake of his head.

Tom leaned in, "You did what you felt was right back then, you've always done what you felt was right for as long as I've known you... may not always have been the best thing to do... but more often than not, things turned out okay," he shrugged.

Sam's gaze turned down to his notebook once again, obviously uncertain as Tom took another breath and nudged the boy's attention back to him.

"One other thing I think you should know. After he dropped pretty much everyone off the night we got Dean back, Cal told Shep something and swore him to secrecy," his eyes flicked to the door where Shep nodded his assent, "Course we all know Shep can't keep anything from me so the two of us have been sitting on it," he waited until he was certain he had the young hunter's full attention, "Cal knew this was coming. He didn't know it was you boys until we were in the Marshall's farm house..." he grinned broadly with the memory, "you were just starting your potty training, and boy you were dancing like a bug on a hot plate..." he chuckled as Sam turned pink and smiled, "Well... Cal told us when you grabbed his hand... it was the first time you touched him... Cal was a mostly a psychometrist, but once in a while he got a vision...not a whole lot of people knew that... mostly just Shep and me, and Buck... I don't think even Ryan knew..." he took a breath and shook his head, "What I'm trying to say little man, is that you and your brother... you're both exactly where you're supposed to be, and there's a reason it's you boys instead of someone else who most likely couldn't get the job done..."

He swilled hard on his beer, "You get what I'm saying?"

Taking an easier breath Sam nodded, "Thanks."

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The Winchester brothers walked side by side toward the path that led to the trap in the back, on their right on the opposite side of the barrier beside them walked the Sumerian Imdugud.

"The Assyrians called you Pazuzu," Sam started.

"They did," he confirmed.

NO WAY! Like the The Exorcist? THAT Pazuzu? Dude that is so...cool? No, not really cool is it? Hmm... Dean stopped and almost frowned, Intense... yeah... intense, Sam was right... there are definitely some heavy hitters here. And not for the first time his belly fluttered with fear.

Sam nodded, "You said you're here to kill those who breeched exile, how do you plan to do that?"

"They are not the only ones who devour..." he replied in the ancient tongue.

The brothers noticed the igigi were almost helplessly drawn toward the sound of the language. They were easily driven off now by a glance from the creature, and yet they kept coming back as if it were a siren song.

"Why are you here? If you can kill these things you don't need us..." Dean said softly, stepping up to face the being inside the meat suit.

The head turned, a second one, the demon's true face erupting from its skull without doing a bit of damage to its host. A quick snap and slaver at the igigi, and the trio was alone again.

"That is just... wicked!" Dean breathed clearly impressed.

"Well I am evil," the demon's host smiled, then noting Sam's frown sought to remind him, "It's what I was made for."

Sam nodded, this was no once upon a human that he could try to persuade to curb his less than noble desires, but as an evil that was born to be evil, it also understands the balance better than most humans ever could, "You and I have a history don't we?"

Dean listened carefully, fighting his every instinct to tear Sam away from here, from this creature, from all these creatures. What he WANTED to do was to conk his little brother over the head if he had to, stick him in the back seat and drive them the hell out of there to somewhere safe. Somewhere they could wait for someone else to save the universe or for it to be over before they knew what had happened.

To his consternation, which he was doing his best to hide from Sam, that connection to an ancient world and its people would not allow it. In fact, that part of him was relieved the time was finally here.

With both heads contained once again in a single skull it faced the brothers, its voice low, "We are eternally at odds," it explained then shrugged, "It is the way of us."

"Then why are you here? Why are you offering to follow me?" Sam asked, "You don't need us or me."

Imdugud smiled and once again spoke the language only the three of them seemed to understand and once again it drew the igigi.

The demigod raised a hand toward the gray smoky beings, his fist curled around nothing and yet only three of them were able to flee this time as he raised his eyes toward them.

One remained static, struggling against an unseen grip.

Several demons emerged onto the path, and others on the driveway, sensing the coming of an impressive display of power.

When the Sumerian was certain he had everyone's full attention it smiled again and opened its right hand, palm up and angled toward the creature that writhed in the extension of its grip.

In the palm of that upturned hand there sat a grasshopper. Sam and Dean looked from the insect, to the hosts' eyes, to each other and back to the host. Fast enough to make both men jump, a column of tens of thousands of tightly packed locusts streamed forth from the palm of the hand. They swirled tightly around the captive igigi, the buzzing cacophony almost loud enough to drown out its splintering scream. It was a sound that made the height of cicada season sound still. The swarm flew ever more tightly until no trace of the igigi remained, then just as quickly was drawn back to the demigod it came from.

Twin gasps issued from both men, and puffs of disbelief could be heard from the gathered demons as well as hunters.

"No I do not need you. But this is MY world too," his head gave the tiniest incline before he turned away leaving them standing while the brothers winced, holding their noses to pop their ears against the cry the igigi had made.

"Did you know they could make noise?" Dean asked, "Man... that is exactly what steel on bone feels like Sam..." he continued to work his jaw until his ears both finally popped and his heart beat returned to normal.

"Maybe they're like rabbits... just the death scream..." Sam wiggled his finger in his ear while working his jaw until his ears popped as well.

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"Welcome sister," she sneered, her beautiful visage at odds with the horrors she would often perpetrate. Tales of Ereshkegal described her as terrible, hideous, monstrous, and she was all those things when defined by the deeds she'd done to Inanna, but in physical appearance she was as beautiful as the sister she envied so cancerously.

"I came to pay homage for the loss of your husband and this is how you repay my generosity?" Laura questioned.

"Generosity? Is that what you call it? You deign to lower yourself to the ONE world to which I was able to lay claim before you? YOU who has everything!? Goddess of the heavens, of love, of battle, mother of the king of the gods and love of his father..." Ereshkegal strode down the steps from her throne stalking to the naked prostrate woman, her feet coming to a halt directly beneath Laura's face. The queen of the underworld glanced left then right, motioning her gallas forward.

From the shadows they moved, their arms draped with chains adorned with savage twinkling saw-toothed hooks.

"You're mad with grief over the loss of your husband, I beg you do not do this," Laura asked softly though knew better than to raise her eyes to the furious goddess.

On either side of her the chains rattled and her heart began to hammer, "I beg you," she whispered again as tears dropped onto Ereshkegal's feet.

"You have no dominion here," the queen spat.

Laura watched those feet turn carrying her out of the throne room, leaving her alone in the hands of the gallas.

As the first of the hooks slid under the flesh of her back, scraping the bone, breath eluded her. As the second one did the same on the other side, she screamed, and as she was hoisted into the air tears fell.

Brushes made of feathers were dipped into pots, then used to slather the refined lamp oil over her naked flesh. Chills shook her, goosebumps were raised. Fumes burned inside her nose and as the oil was slapped over her face, her eyes burned as it seeped between her lids. She couldn't even clamp her lips tight enough to keep it from working its way into her mouth.

The tears that fell down her face sliding effortlessly over the oil added to the searing burn in her eyes, and as her body turned icy cold against the air, there was one thought that brought her comfort as she gazed with her mind's eye at one of many cherished images of her beloved Dean. It was worth it.

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"Can we help?" Jack asked, standing beside Gary who stood behind Sam, Shep and Tom on the back steps of the house.

Sam shook his head, catching sight of Bobby as he watched from the shed. The elder Winchester carried the body of the woman who loved him through the yard and set her on the scaffolding. Behind Bobby, sitting at the counter and glancing surreptitiously in Dean's direction sat Mercy, working on deciphering the frieze's from the cylinder pressings.

Ellen and Jo joined the group at the back door, their own tears barely held back as in the grainy lavender of early dusk Dean stood at the scaffolding, his back to them all as he said his goodbye.

Waiting patiently until he was finished, Sam blinked his own glassiness back. When Dean ducked down and picked up the gas can, the younger brother left the steps, crossing the yard to stand beside his constant.

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Sam reached his brothers' side, his hand closing over Dean's before he could raise the gas can.

"Sam..." even Dean's voice was scowling.

"Dean." He said softly, his eyes looking into his big brothers.

The elder brother's eyes touched those blue-greens, feeling fingers stronger than his own closing around the handle, feeling those fingers assume responsibility for the can and its contents.

"Sam..." Dean breathed, closing his eyes and letting go. He couldn't bear the sight of his little brothers' sorrow, he couldn't bear knowing that sorrow was held for him. He couldn't bear to acknowledge the depth of his loss and so stood with his eyes closed, his senses keen, his nose taking in the familiar stinging thick aroma of gasoline. The sloshing sound in his ears that he'd heard so many times as the fuel was thrown over the cords of wood below the body, and over the body itself.

Please... Laura... Please come back to me... Please sit up, wake up... come alive again, I don't care how, I don't care what we have to do... I don't care... please take your next life... wake up! Don't...he breathed, don't leave me alone...

"Dean?" Sam asked softly from his side, "We can wait..." he offered his older brother.

With a faintly shuddering breath Dean shook his head and held up the book of matches.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Don't," Sam closed his hand over his brothers' then wrapped his arm around the older man's shoulders while he pinched the matches from between Dean's fingers and stepped forward.

Steeling himself to light the torch wedged between the slats, a rush of warm air burst up from the stacks of wood. Dean's hand snagged into the collar of Sam's shirt, yanking him back several feet just as the whole scaffolding went up in flames, from the wood to the metal and everything in between.

"What the hell?" Sam questioned showing his brother the untouched matches as they both looked around, wondering if one of the demons was responsible for it.

Dean knew, she didn't survive behind the seventh gate.

Soft footsteps moved gently up from behind them.

Wordless and tearful, painfully reminded of her own experience over a year ago Tamara wrapped her arms around Dean and pressed her cheek to his before returning to the group of hunters that had gathered about ten feet behind the boys.

To the far right, at Bobby's side, Ajax whimpered and nudged his master's hand before settling down to the ground, his liquid canine eyes mesmerized by the fire light.

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tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.