Hi!

I am soooo sorry that I took so long to update this fic. I have tons of excuses and none of them are really all that good, but I'll try to be more attentive to this story from now until it's finished.

Anyhoo - there's not a whole lot of Sam in this chapter or a ton of action, but next chapter should have much more of both. Many of you have already guessed who saved Merlin and Dean from the demon and this chapter shall confirm your suspicions. So, without further ado, here's more to the story:

Chapter 5: No Country for Old Men

Though he had been freed of the demon's power, Merlin found it hard to move.

The old man standing above him grunted a little as he bent down and reached for the knife sticking out of the girl's chest and pulled it out in one smooth motion. He regarded the blade, turning it over in his hand. "Interesting," he mused, "I haven't seen anything like this in quite some time. It's certainly handy, isn't it?"

The two men gaped at the man from their positions on the floor. He walked up to Dean and handed him the bloody knife before lending a hand to help the younger man up. Merlin was still too stunned to speak, but Dean recovered swiftly with unveiled suspicion, "Who the hell are you?"

The hunched and bearded man turned to Merlin and winked, "No one special. Just a friend."

"But you're … you're -" Merlin sputtered, pushing himself to his feet. "How is this possible? After all this time you should be—"

"Dead?" The old man finished. He chuckled with amusement. "Well … I suppose I would be if I had died like all people should, but I guess I've never been one to do what I should. But you know that all too well, don't you?" The man asked, directing his question at Merlin.

Dean regarded their savior hostility, "Alright, that's it. You have two seconds to tell us who you are before I start kicking some geezer ass."

"Oh look at you, Mr. I-can-kick-an-old-man's-arse" The elderly man responded in a growly voice that was all-too familiar to Merlin. He pointed a crooked finger at Dean and sneered. "Aren't you tough as nails, huh?"

Dean turned red in the face, "Now, look here, asshat –"

The old man cut him off, "Dean, you really need to learn how to control your temper– " the younger man glared at the mention of his name,"Yes, yes … I know your name. After all, I've met you before."

"What? When?"

"For you it was only yesterday. For me, it was many, many years ago."

"What are you talking about?" Dean snarled impatiently.

The old man looked to Merlin, "Well, young man, don't just leave the poor fool in suspense. Tell him who I am."

Dean turned towards Merlin, "You know who this guy is?"

"Well uh … I think …" Merlin shook his head, staring into the old man's bright, blue eyes. The truth was plain to see, but he still couldn't believe it. "No … it can't be. It's not possible. It's been over thousand years …"

"Can someone please just give me a straight answer?"

Merlin slowly faced Dean again, gulping hard while still trying to process everything, but he couldn't deny the fact that he had seen the old man's face before. He looked pretty much the same as those times when Merlin needed a fool-proof disguise, the only difference being that he had ditched the robes for blue trousers made from the same material as the pants Merlin and Dean wore, a faded red, flannel shirt, a dirty, stained, jacket vest that might have been yellow once, and a pair of thick-soled, black boots caked with dried mud. He looked like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, making Merlin wonder if he had a proper home or not.

"I think … I think he's me." Merlin confessed.

Dean's face was unreadable as his gaze switched back and forth between Merlin and the old man as if he was trying to see the similarities between the two of them even though the exercise was rather moot considering the fact that Merlin was in Sam's body.

"Riiiight," Dean eventually spoke, his misgivings clear. "I'm supposed to believe that you are some thousand year old wizard?"

"Actually I'm 1345 years old, not that it actually matters," Old Merlin turned and spoke in an aside to his younger counterpart, "after 200, it was pretty much all downhill from there."

Merlin just shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around seeing himself still alive so far into the future. Never mind the fact that things were strange enough since he woke up in the wrong body and time, now this was just getting ridiculous.

"Well what are we just standing around here for?" The old warlock grumbled, gesturing for the two younger men to follow him towards the exit. "If your American police aren't as incompetent as those back in England, then we should get out of here before they show up, don't you think?"

At least that seemed to strike a chord with Dean and he took action, grabbing Merlin's arm and pulling him towards the door, "He's right. We'll figure all this out once we're far away from here."

Old Merlin hobbled rather quickly for a man his age and was opening the backseat door and climbing inside the Impala before the younger men were even out of the store. Once in the car, Dean turned the key and revved the engine loudly.

"Drive, you fool!" Old Merlin insisted from the backseat, slapping this hand against the back of Dean's headrest. Young Merlin shut his eyes, and grabbed the handle above the door, dreading another ride in the metal machine.

"Shut it, Gandalf!" Dean shouted back, stomping his foot hard into the floor and accelerating so fast that both Merlins' heads hit the backs of their seats.

OoOoOoOo

Hearing snickers all around him, Sam tried to hide his reddening face as he gave it one more try.

With rapidly growing frustration, Sam slipped his foot back into the stirrup, and tried to push himself up enough to swing his leg up and over the horse's back, but once again, the mare whinnied and moved forward, causing Sam to hop around on one foot as she turned in a circle.

Sam remembered how the last time he had ridden a horse it had been much easier. That time was yet another instance where he had been transported to the past, (If he ever time-travelled again it would be too soon.), but he had at least been in his own body then and knew how to work it right. He had been taller, stronger and far less awkward than being in Merlin's body and the horse he had ridden had seemed so much smaller. But this time around was different, this time it was just ridiculous. He couldn't even get on the damned animal.

"Any day now, Merlin," sighed the prince, half exasperated and half amused.

Sam hopped around a few more times while the horse kept moving. Growling in frustration, he made little headway until a sandy-haired knight took pity on him and grabbed a hold of the reins, stilling the animal as he patted her neck.

"This girl can be a little ornery sometimes, eh, Merlin?" the knight supplied, soothing Sam's bruised ego a little.

"There you go spoiling the show, Leon." Arthur quipped with feigned disappointment while several snorts and chuckles could be heard erupting from amongst the other assembled knights.

Leon grinned back at the prince, "Aye, Sire. But if we are to leave before the day is over I felt it best to help him."

Finally, Sam was able to climb onto the horse's back and then nodded at the knight below him, "Thanks, Sir Leon," he said, glad to have learned the kind knight's name and truly grateful for the help.

Leon nodded back and smiled openly, "Not a problem, Merlin. Just try to stay on and perhaps we won't have to repeat this performance."

It wasn't long after that the group was leaving the gates of Camelot and ventured along the road leading to the forest where the latest attack had occurred. Sam looked about him at the passing scenery and became lost in his thoughts. He really shouldn't have agreed to come along on this hunt. What he really needed to do was find that crystal cave that the dragon mentioned and get himself back to his own time and his own body. But the force inside him that compelled him to follow after the prince had just been too strong to resist. He couldn't explain it other than it might have had something to so with Merlin's magic.

He just hoped that this hunt would go quickly and that when he returned Gaius would have managed to find the crystal stored under the castle.

Sam was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the prince ride up beside him until Arthur spoke, snapping Sam out of his semi-trance.

"You're very quiet." Arthur said, "It's not like you to not be chattering unnecessarily. Don't tell me you have another one of your 'bad feelings'."

Sam turned to the prince, "Do you really have any idea what we're going up against?"

"I know enough." The prince shrugged, exuding confidence, "I know that the creature has killed and will kill again if we don't destroy it first. So, that's what I intend to do and that's all that matters."

"It's not enough to just want to kill something," Sam argued. "You need to know what it is capable of, what its weaknesses are … do you even know how to kill it?"

"What? And you do?" asked Arthur incredulously. "You don't know the first thing about hunting. What could you possibly know that would be of any use other than how to stomp through a forest and scare away all of the prey?"

Sam clenched his jaw, holding back the things he wanted to shout at the conceited prince. Far too many times he had seen people get killed because they mistakenly believed that they knew what they were doing. Hell … he himself was a prime example of the mistakes that could be made when one was overconfident in their abilities and the righteousness of their intentions. Even now he shuddered internally thinking of the havoc he caused when he killed Lillith. He had been so certain then that he had been doing the right thing when all along he had been condemning the whole damn world by unleashing Lucifer. His pride had nearly ended the world and seeing much of the same attitude in Arthur set him on edge and made him want to smack him until he got the point.

"What if I do know a thing or two about it?" Sam responded, "What if I happen to know that the creature you're looking for is called a black dog? What if I also happened to know that this thing can't be killed with regular arrows or swords and that pretty much everything is useless against it? What if the only thing that kills it happens to be silver … do you even have anything that's silver?"

The prince studied Sam, his eyes narrowed and left one slightly twitching, "What suddenly makes you such an expert on this creature, Merlin? The last time we came across this beast, it nearly ripped you to shreds."

"I read about it in a book," he explained simply. It really wasn't too far from the truth, except that said book was actually his father's journal and most of his knowledge about black dogs came from personal experience. "It's what any sane person would do before going up against a creature you know nothing about."

"Okay … say you read about this thing in a book. If that's true, then why didn't you say something before we left? We have no silver weapons."

"Actually …" Sam began, pulling the silver blade he found in the prince's room from his waistband, "We have this. It was all I could find, but it should work, so long as I hit it in the heart."

"What? You? Have you lost your mind? You are not getting anywhere near that thing, do you hear me?" Arthur nudged his horse even closer to Sam's, "You've already been injured by this beast, so your one and only job is to stay with the horses. Do I really have to keep reminding you that you are a servant, not a knight? It is not your duty to risk yourself like that … it's mine."

Behind all of the prince's harsh words, Sam saw concern in the other man's eyes. He knew then that Merlin was more than just a servant to Arthur – he was his friend and the prince didn't want to see him hurt again. Perhaps Arthur wasn't quite as self-absorbed as Sam first thought.

"Give me the knife, Merlin." Arthur demanded, holding out his hand for the weapon.

Sam was more than a little reluctant to let it go. He knew he had far more experience with black dogs than all of the men in this group combined and yet he was coming to realize that Arthur wasn't asking for the knife out of pride or so he could have all of the glory and honor of killing the creature. No … he wanted the knife because he wasn't just a skilled warrior, but a good leader; he'd much rather risk his own life than that of anyone else. Sam could see now why history looked back on Arthur as such a great king – he was strong, competent and brave. His only real flaw was that he was a bit of a dick, but then again, so was Dean and yet he still loved the jerk.

"Fine." Sam relented, handing the knife over, hilt first. "But I'm not staying with the horses."

Arthur didn't acknowledge Sam's refusal to stay behind, instead, he was looking over the knife, running a thumb over its edge. He frowned deeply, "Merlin, this knife is about as sharp as you are. How am I supposed to kill anything with this dull thing?"

He handed the blade back to Sam, "Sharpen it and return it back to me when you are finished."

"How can I sharpen it while I'm on a horse?" Sam asked, a little testily and with a hint of whining.

Arthur rolled his eyes as if he was speaking with a simpleton, "Wait until we stop for a break, idiot."

With that, the prince kicked his horse and rode ahead of Sam, taking the lead.

Sam shook his head, exasperated and uncertain whether he liked the prince or not, but sure of one thing – he would follow Arthur and keep a close eye on him. Again, he felt an irresistible and inexplicable urge to protect the guy, even if he was an ass.

OoOoOoOo

"Okay … I want some answers and I want them pretty quick, understand me, old man?" Dean growled, his eyes leaving the road briefly to glare at Merlin's older self in the backseat. Merlin dared to open his eyes as the car tore through the miles of road, but he was far from relaxed. He marveled at how his older self and Dean seemed to think nothing of the dangers that riding in the machine at such speeds posed.

"Certainly. My life shall be as an open book to you. Ask me anything you wish … well, except for who is my favorite character on 'Gillian's Island' – I could never decide between Maryann and Ginger." The elderly Merlin chuckled.

Dean didn't seem amused by the joke and Merlin simply had no idea what the crazy, old codger was going on about. Was he really going end up like that man? He was so strange and more than likely quite senile.

"How about for starters, you just tell us where the hell you came from?"

"That's easy – I came from England. Flew into Wichita from London just this morning ... and boy, are my arms tired." He laughed hoarsely.

Merlin jerked around and faced the old man, astonished, "You can fly? I don't know of any spells than can do that. How did you learn to do that?"

Both Dean and Old Merlin snorted, leaving Merlin a little perplexed.

"What's so funny?" he asked. If the old man could fly, then that was pretty amazing, wasn't it? How could Dean, a man without magic whatsoever, not see how incredible that was?

"Oh my boy …" Old Merlin smiled and shook his head, "I forgot how stupid I was at your age. No … I cannot fly on my own – I'm not a bird. I can transport myself short distances, but a trans-Atlantic flight is beyond even my capabilities."

"Then how –"

"He took a plane, genius." Dean added, cutting him off. "They're machines like this car, only with wings. But that's not really what's important here. What I really want to know is what Dumbledore is doing here."

"Dumbledore …" Old Merlin muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "clever, Dean … never heard that one before."

Dean snarled, but Merlin's older-self continued without missing a beat. "The reason I came is quite simple, really." Old Merlin began, leaning back in his seat and stroking his long, white beard. "I was destined to save you, just as I was saved by an older version of myself many, many years ago. After all, if I hadn't been there to rescue the two of you just in the nick of time, then I would have died – or rather the younger me would have died. He would never go back to Camelot, I would cease to exist, Arthur might never be king, and pretty much the whole entire planet would have been screwed. And don't forget that you could have been killed by that demon as well, Dean. Do not underestimate your own importance in my intervention. You too have a very important destiny to fulfill. There are prophesies written about you -"

"Oh God … not this destiny crap again!" Dean snapped, causing young Merlin to shrink back a bit at the other man's furious tone. "Do you have any idea how sick to death I am of people saying how things are supposed to play out in our lives? Every damned mother out there seems to think that we're just puppets for them to play with. But t's total bullshit! We don't have to do a damn thing we don't want to. Sam and I proved that already. If we had done what we were 'destined' to do, the world would have ended years ago!"

At Dean's angry words, Merlin furrowed his brow, hating how confused he felt, like he was listening in on a conversation of which he had none of the facts … which he was. Did Dean really think he had saved the world? Boy … he had an even bigger ego than Arthur.

"Ah yes … the apocalypse. I heard all about it." Old Merlin nodded calmly. "But how do you know that you and Sam weren't destined to be the ones to stop it?"

"Arrrrrhhh!" Dean hit the steering wheel with his palm. "Whatever Sam and I did, we did out of our own free will, not because we were fated to, okay? So whatever prophesies or other shit you think we're gonna fulfill, you can shove them up your geriatric ass."

"Of course, of course," Old Merlin frowned deeply, irritated. "Why believe the ramblings of an old man who has been around for over a millennia … what could I possibly know?"

"All right … that's it!" Merlin felt his head connect painfully with the window beside him as Dean yanked hard on the steering wheel and the car spun around, coming to a full and jarring stop along the opposite side of the road. "You saved our bacon back there … I get that and I'm grateful, but I'm not listening to another word of your crap, got it? Now … you can either shut up and let me drive you to the nearest bus station so you can go back to jolly old England or you can get out of the car right now and hoof it. Your choice, Mr. Wizard."

Old Merlin laughed. "Funny … this is exactly how I remember it from last time, except back then I recall it being so much more confusing and I was terribly worried about how batty I was to become when I got to be this age." He turned to his younger self and patted him on the shoulder, "Don't fret, my boy … we're only senile on days that end with a 'y'."

Merlin couldn't help but grin and shake his head. His older self was indeed batty, but in a funny sort of way. He still couldn't tell if he was completely sane, but strangely, he liked him.

Merlin's older-self opened his door and began to step out, "Well … I suppose I shall take my leave then. It's not as though I really wanted to ride in this steel death trap again anyway."

"Wait!" Merlin finally spoke up, before the old man could leave. "Can't you get me back?"

"I'm afraid that is not within my power." Old Merlin replied, regrettably.

"But you managed to return before."

"Indeed, I did."

"But how?"

"I suppose you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

Without another word, the older version of Merlin slammed the door shut and began walking away from the car.

"Say 'hi' to the queen for me." Dean called out his window and then immediately revved the engine, pulling away, once again racing down the highway.

"What are you doing? You can't just let him go!" Merlin argued towards Dean, "He was our only chance at fixing this mess."

"He made his choice, Sa—" Dean stopped and sighed, closing his eyes briefly, "He clearly can't or won't help us. If he could send you back, don't you think he would have done it already?"

"Still …. You didn't have to kick him out." Merlin wanted to complain further and tell Dean where he could shove his attitude, but deep down he knew the other man was right – they were on their own and Merlin would have to find a way to get home on his own.

"Really? What else could I do? Take him back to our secret, underground bunker for tea and scones? Look – Sam and I have managed not to reveal our location to anyone so far and I'd like to keep it that way. There are a ton of bad guys out there that would love to get at all the stuff we've got squirreled away down there and there are plenty more that just want to kill us. So, it doesn't matter if that old guy is the greatest wizard ever or the Pope himself, he's not getting in there. Period."

The rest of the drive back to the bunker was wrought with a tense silence between Merlin and Dean. Merlin fumed mostly, thinking about the opportunity he had lost as his older counterpart walked away. There was so much he wanted to ask him. And he was furious at Dean for getting so worked up over the whole destiny thing. Though Merlin could understand Dean's point of view and could freely admit that his own destiny and that of Arthur's weighed heavily on his shoulders, he also felt honored and special to be a part of it. It was something he could believe in – something that made all of his hardships worth it.

Dean though, seemed to think that destiny was something to be fought and he clearly wanted control over his own life and fate. Merlin didn't know what happened to the other man that made him this way, but he pitied him – something terrible must have happened to have made him think that fulfilling his own destiny would end in disaster. But maybe that was what he real difference was between them – Merlin wanted his destiny to come true and believed in the good it would bring while Dean feared his and saw only the worst possible outcomes.

Thankfully, the trip was only a few minutes long and Dean was soon parking the car between some trees to cover its position. Merlin pushed open his door and followed Dean down a set of stair towards the entrance. Pulling out a key, Dean slipped it into the lock and turned it, pushing against the door as it creaked open on its rusty hinges.

Upon stepping inside, Dean reached out and turned on the lights, illuminating the dark, cavernous space. Wordlessly, Merlin walked down the first set of stairs, following the older hunter. He then almost ran into Dean's back as he abruptly stopped and tensed up.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean called out as Merlin stepped back and peered around the shorter man's shoulders.

"Ahhh, there you are. Took you both long enough to get here."

Merlin couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face any more than Dean could have stopped his scowl, for below, holding an open book, stood his older self winking at him with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"How did you get in? I have the only key and this place is impenetrable to witchcraft or magic."

Old Merlin chuckled and snapped shut his book, "Oh … don't worry, Dean. I didn't use magic or break in. I happen to have the only other key to this place. And why shouldn't I? After all … I built the damned place."

To be Continued….