The Enemy of my
Dean shoved the
barrel of the gun away from him, letting the rifle slip from his hand.
feeling of relief spread throughout his body as the intense pressure in
his head disappeared. He took a shaky breath, curling in on himself as
he tried to get the adrenaline rush under control.
A cold sweat
had him shivering in the darkness. He struggled not to let the bile,
creeping up the back of his throat, make an appearance with his gourmet
convenience store lunch in tow. He had nearly righted himself when the
unexpected ringing of his cell was nearly the final straw for his
effort, the hunter managed to keep his face out of the dirt and pull
the distraction from his jacket pocket. “Yeah?” he choked out.
you dare do it!” A frantic plea burst through the phone. Dean winced,
pulling the cell slightly away from his ear.
managed, shoving himself up straighter, his eyes instantly going to the
group of people below him. Damn it. Sam was still down.
The voice burst
through the phone again, seeming amplified due to the abuse his
overtaxed central nervous system had endured. “Deuce…So help me God if
you take yourself out of the game, I will hunt your ass down into the
bowels of hell and…”
Dean brought a shaky hand to his aching head before bending over to
pick up the discarded weapon. He struggled to his feet. “I'm not
“You telling me
you're not on a ridge with a fucking hunting rifle?”
sighed, still trying to calm his racing heart, as he decided the
quickest route to get him back to his brother. “Of course I'm on a
ridge with a hunting rifle,” he muttered. “You're the fucking Hank
Aaron of psychics, aren't you?”
the hell is going on?”
He didn't have
time to play twenty questions with Reaves, no matter how shaken the
other man sounded. “Some freaky Jedi mind-control is what's going on.
But it's over now. The evil Obi-wan is dead and I'm good. I'll call you
up the phone and half ran-half slid down the dense foliage covered
slope that would take him to his brother. Sam had made it to his knees
by the time he reached him, his head buried in his hands.
older Winchester skidded to a halt beside of him, laying a steadying
hand on his back. “You okay, little brother?”
Sam lifted his
head with a start. The look of all-consuming agony and grief, mixed
with physical pain stole the blond hunter's breath. “Dean? Oh, God. I
Dean shushed him, moving his hand to the side of his brother's face.
“Take it easy. I'm good.” He lied. Just watching Sam be clobbered by
the mind-controlled Barbie was bad enough, but nearly committing
suicide and leaving the kid alone had almost driven him over that
proverbial edge. And now to know Sam's mental movie projector had
apparently let him see the same thing Caleb had been privy to… “How you
doing?” So much for watching out for Sammy.
Sam looked at
him with watery, blood-shot eyes. He wrapped his hands in the front of
his jacket, taking a deep, shaky breath. “You sure you're okay?” The
recent grief was back with a vengeance and Dean sighed heavily.
He forced a
grin, patted his brother's cheek. “Do you see a hole in my head, Sammy?
I'm as handsome as ever. No harm done.”
The younger man
winced, nearly collapsing against the older Winchester. He let his
forehead rest against his brother's chest. “Thank God.” He tried to get
his breathing under control, desperately needing to erase the image of
Dean's shattered skull from his mind. What was with his brother and
“But what about
you, dude? You're not going to puke on me are you?”
tightening his hold on the other man. He had gone from listening to
Andy's evil twin prattle on about an amazing plan the man with the gold
eyes had for them all, to seeing his brother's death flash before his
eyes. Yeah, he was doing just great. “I'm okay,” Sam finally replied.
Dean let his
hands rest on his brother's shoulders, giving him a moment to pull it
together, while he took the time to check the younger man out. There
was blood seeping from somewhere underneath Sam's long hair and some
nasty-looking bruising on the right side of his neck.
Winchester forced his eyes away from his brother long enough to focus
on Andy, who was still holding the proverbial smoking gun Sam had lost.
The poor guy looked shell-shocked, but his twin looked a whole hell of
a lot worse. Webber's brains were painted across the side of his car,
some of the gore splattered on Sammy, too.
needed to get them up off the ground and away from the dead psychic.
“Sammy, can you stand?”
Sam nodded; let
his brother help him to his feet. He wobbled like a newborn foal for a
moment. Dean kept a hold of him until he was steady.
moved his gaze to the other kid, and then to Tracy, who was sitting
curled into herself, crying.
“I'm okay,” the
boy finally answered, letting the gun drop from his hand to land with
an ominous thud on the ground.
It wasn't the
safest option, but Dean still felt relieved the psychic was now
hissed, his eyes landing on Webber, lingering on the bloody mess.
turned him around. “This wasn't your fault.”
twenty-three-year-old looking at him was suddenly five again. “He
killed his brother.” Sam said quietly, and the older hunter wished he
could turn back time, protect them all from what had happened.
“No, he killed
The dark haired
hunter frowned. “He was his brother.”
Dean knew what
he was saying. Understood exactly where his baby brother's
guilt-susceptible mind was taking him. He moved so he was blocking the
view of Webber's body and squeezed his brother's shoulder again.
“Not like us,
kiddo.” He glanced back over his shoulder, watching as Andy spoke
softly into his phone. The kid looked so calm, so detached. His eyes
went back to Sam's glassy-gaze. “You're nothing like Webber. They are
nothing like us.”
finally seemed to see him, not some visceral mess. He slowly nodded,
swallowed thickly. “I'd die first.” Sam said, softly, and Dean knew
exactly what he was talking about.
Although he was
touched by the sentiment, the idea his brother could ever be faced with
such a choice terrified him. “Forget about it. Nothing bad is going to
happen to you.”
Sam let his
gaze drift back to Andy's brother, and then to his own once more. “I
have an edge.”
Dean let a
small smile creep onto his face. “Damn straight.” He gave Sam a small
“Now let's get
you cleaned up before the cops show.”
The last place
he had wanted to return to was the roadhouse, but Ellen had said it was
important…about the demon. And Dean hadn't been able to resist.
Now, he wished
he had listened to that little voice telling him to drive as fast as he
could in the opposite direction, to get Sammy as far away as possible.
Later, he would look back on that moment as the beginning of the end.
Still…the booze was free.
Jo had just
leaned across the bar to pour him another shot, when his cell rang. Sam
gave him a questioning look, and he shrugged. “Reeva,” He mouthed loud
enough for the girl to hear. She huffed and backed off, but not out of
ear shot, Dean noticed.
The phone rang
again. He bobbed his eyebrows at his brother, before answering. “Hey,
The voice that came through was definitely not feminine or friendly.
“Are you wasted?”
“No. But I was
thinking about heading that way later, actually.” Dean rolled his eyes
as Jo actually began to pout. “Where are you, babe?”
this miserable shack masquerading as a bar, darlin'. So get your weird
ass out here. It's fucking cold.”
to keep you warm, huh?”
“You sure you
don't have a head wound, Deuce?”
Dean kept the
smile plastered on his face, although he was silently kicking himself
for not remembering to call the psychic back. “No, I'm good, cupcake.
Hold on and I'll get us some privacy.”
Sam was looking
at him as if he had just grown a second head, but he continued to smile
as he motioned to the door. “I'm going to take this outside, Sammy.”
brother watched him go, feeling the twin gazes on him before he even
turned back to the woman and her young daughter.
him?” Jo asked.
“Young love.” He picked up the shot his brother had abandoned and
tossed it back. “May it always be a mystery.”
right. It was fucking freezing outside.
The wind stung
Dean's face as he exited the roadhouse. He pulled his jacket in tighter
around him as he caught site of the haunting truck parked near the
It was still
weird to see his Dad's vehicle, and not find his father behind the
wheel. But watching Caleb Reaves slip from inside the cab sent a wave
of something close to safety washing over him and suddenly it wasn't
quite as cold.
The big hunter
slammed the door, stepped to the front of the black beast. He rubbed
his hands together, gave the blond a hard look that spoke volumes.
“Deuce, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Yeah? I called
you, too. You didn't call me back.” Reaves looked around. “I told you
to stay away from this place.”
furrowed. “Are you keeping tabs on us now?”
Caleb glared at
him. “Not more than six hours ago, I saw you put a fucking sniper's
rifle under your chin- scatter your brains all over the fucking woods.”
softened, he raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sorry for the horror
looked him up and down, making sure he really was in one piece. He
shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. “You
should be.” The dark haired hunter grinned slightly, leaning back
against the front of the truck. “If you could have seen the brunette I
was with when your death interrupted me…”
him, letting the residual warmth of the engine chase away more of the
chill, the companionship killing off the rest. “Hey, at least I saved
one poor girl from your advances.”
but it rang hollow. “Do I need to save you from someone else's
Dean cut his
eyes to the older hunter, recognizing the mask of indifference for the
concern it was. “I'm playing it cool, man.”
towards the bar in the distance. “Make sure you do.”
Dean raised his
hand. “Scout's honor. I'm not that stupid, or desperate.” When Reaves
favored him with a skeptical look, the younger hunter groaned. “What?
You want to come in and see for yourself?”
“I'm not going
in there.” Reaves shook his head.
“You afraid of
raised a brow. “Maybe. I hear she's rough.”
“Sam seems to
like her.” He let his gaze go back towards the road house. “She says
she wants to help.”
Caleb growled. “And what the hell does Sammy know? He once tried to
make friends with a werewolf.”
sighed. “But she seems legit.”
“Are you sure
He eyed the
psychic. “She says there's a war coming.”
“She says that
we all need to work together. No secrets.”
At that Reaves
laughed again, but this time it was filled with mirth. He raised his
head to the night sky. “And you choose 'this' woman to be upfront with,
kid. What the hell are you thinking?”
that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Dean looked earnestly to
at him. “Yeah, I've read John's Bible, too, kid. Try this one out,’
Warfare is the way of Deception'.”
hunter sighed, looked away.
his body, and leaned into the grill. He reached out, wrapped his
fingers around the other hunter's forearm, giving it a slight squeeze.
“That whole mutual alliance thing only works if you know who the
'enemy' is, Deuce.” The psychic waited for the younger man's gaze to
travel from his hand to meet his eyes again. “We've yet to see his true
Dean asked, hoping his friend wouldn't give the answer he didn't want
think they're involved.” Dean jutted his chin towards the road house.
“All I know is there was a reason John stopped coming here-cut off all
contact. He never brought you or Sammy here.” The psychic shook his
head. “Hell, the one time he brought me, he ordered me to sit in the
hunter frowned. “Been that long ago?”
“Dude-I was thirty.”
then, a familiar ache pounding in his chest. His gaze fell to the
ground, he scooted his boot around in the dirt. “Maybe he was afraid of
what Jo would do to you.”
“Maybe. He sure was pissed when I sauntered on in, asked for a beer.”
Dean looked at
him then. “Do you think Dad had a thing with Ellen?”
smile faded quickly. “No fucking way. Your dad never got over your mom.
And, plus, he could do a lot better than her.”
“That's what I said.”
think Bobby had a running tab here once.”
his eyes to Reaves. “That's scary.”
silence surrounded them for a long moment, but finally Dean asked the
million dollar question. “Why do you think Dad didn't want you to go
hunters, maybe?” Caleb shrugged. “The fact that I was a freak? Take
way their minds worked in similar fashion scared the shit out of Dean.
He didn't want his own fears confirmed, especially since that meant he
had already screwed up. “But a lot of hunters are psychic. In the
Caleb cut him
off. “Deuce, these people aren't exactly card-carrying members of the
Brotherhood.” He lifted his hand, silver ring flashing in the
moonlight. “They're hunters, and that's about it.”
“I don't get
complicated-like I explained about Gordon. Just don't let your guard
down. Don't let Sam go all smiling, Golden Retriever on them.”
away. “He hasn't has he?” Reaves demanded, a cold knot of dread
unfurling in the pit of his stomach. “Deuce?”
“He told Ellen
about his abilities. Jo was in there, too.”
“What the fuck
were you thinking?” The psychic exploded, sounding way too much like
hunter glared at him. “Me? I told him to keep his mouth shut.” He shook
his head, when Reaves continued to stare at him. “You know Sammy. You
pegged it yourself…big, goofy, warm brown-eyes, mop-like hair. I'm
surprised he hasn't licked one of them yet.”
Dean!” Caleb palmed his eyes, raked a hand over his slight five o'clock
shadow. “Your dad would…”
“What?” It was
Dean's turn to snap. “What would Dad do, Damien?”
his mouth, dropped what he was about to say as the feelings Dean was
experiencing pierced his defenses. “Because he's not here, and I would
really love to know what brilliant plan he would come up with. I wish
to hell he was here to tell me what to do about Sammy, because I don't
have a fucking clue, man.”
“Dean.” It came
out sounding as loaded as the weapons they both were packing.
The younger man
glanced up, curious at the completely unfamiliar tone, and the rare use
of his given name. “What?”
“Don't feed me
that line of bull. You never needed your dad to figure out how to take
care of Sam. Not even when you were a kid. I'm not sure you ever
trusted anybody with that job.” Caleb licked his lips, studied Dean for
a moment. He was picking up the anxiety the younger hunter was feeling,
the uncharacteristic sense of insecurity, and he wished like hell you
knew how to fix it. Dean was afraid for his brother. “I know the old
man dying has shaken you. I know you miss him, but this…” He looked at
the bar. “These people are not the answer.”
Dean thought he
saw a hint of something he recognized as hurt flash through the amber
eyes, but it was gone too quickly. He had no fucking doubt the other
man was reading him. So much for secrets or the game face. “I can't do
this alone, man. ” Winchester shook his head. “His visions are worse. I
can't do anything for him…the pain.” The blond clenched his jaw, fisted
his hands. “It's killing me to watch it.” He'd never been able to stand
seeing his brother hurting, and since losing their dad, it was worse.
“He can learn to deal with it, Deuce. You know that. I did. It'll take
practice, but he can learn not to fight it. Sam's not alone in this.”
Caleb glanced away, cleared his throat. “Neither are you.”
“Does that mean
I can expect more of these late night rendezvous?” The blond hunter
cocked an eyebrow. “Because people are going to start to talk.”
“Let's just say that I have it on good authority that you and Sam are
being watched after.”
Dean rolled his
eyes. “Another premonition?”
his shoulders, straightened to his full six-two height. “Hey, you hit
it on the head when you called me Hank Aaron.” He shot the younger man
a cocky-grin. “Although, I would have said Ryan Howard.”
hunter gave him a ‘you wish’ smirk. “I better get back; this was
supposed to be a quickie.” Dean pushed off from the truck.
“Five minutes, damn, you better practice your phone sex.”
and lifted his middle finger in response. He started to walk away when
Reaves called out to him, held up a hand for him to hold up.
circled around to the passenger’s side of the truck, opening the door.
He pulled out a plastic bag and started back towards Dean. “Here.” He
shoved the package towards the younger man. “Christmas is just around
the corner and I might not see you guys.”
the gift, but looked at Caleb as if he were possessed. “The last time
you got me something for Christmas I was six and Mac made you give me
one of your presents.”
his eyes. “Maybe I’m getting in touch with my sensitive side.” He
watched as Dean tore the paper away to reveal a new lap top computer.
The psychic glanced towards the bar again. “Tell Geek Boy he can stay
away from that freak with the really bad mullet now.”
looked at him, not really sure what to say. “Thanks, Damien.”
nodded. “Remember what I said, Deuce, there can only be victory when we
know the enemy.” Caleb grinned at him. “And I sure as hell don’t mean
‘know’ in the Biblical sense.”
Dean shook his
head as he watched his friend return to the truck, flicking the
headlights on as he backed out of the lot. The young hunter covered his
eyes from the shine, and moved his gaze to the roadhouse. A feeling of
wariness engulfed him. It was damn unfortunate Sun-tzu had never given
advice on psychic brothers, demons and the whole supernatural
craziness. He could sure use a guidebook right about now.
Onto Chapter 2
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