gavemea_45 | [AU] dark gonna catch me here

[AU] dark gonna catch me here

Not two seconds after the door closed, Dean started demanding answers. Sam explained pretty much everything, although he glossed over the part where Wynonna'd threatened to shoot him, and for the most part Dean took it pretty well.

Until he made the suggestion of bringing Wynonna - and Peacemaker - to a crossroads and forcing the demon there to give up Dean's contract.

By the time the fight's over, Sam's certain of two things. First, that Dean's not willing to listen to reason because he doesn't want to risk Sam. And second, that he's not going to let his brother go to hell.

He makes sure Dean thinks he's asleep first, and waits until he hears his brother start snoring... then waits another half hour to make sure. Once he's certain Dean's not faking, Sam sneaks out and borrows the Impala.

There's a crossroads three miles north, an isolated one with an abandoned gas station nearby that he can use to get to the bar.

It'll do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah, well."

She thinks about her own interactions with Stephanie. "She sucked hardcore, but she probably didn't deserve to die."

That 'probably' says a lot, Sam thinks, but he gets distracted almost immediately when Dean asks, "Yeah. So is that why you showed up with Sammy? Need backup goin' after this witch of yours?"

Dean's not going to forgive her if he finds out the truth about why she was there in his world, she's pretty sure. But better her than Sam.

"Actually, the witch isn't my first priority." She sits up as the rat comes back, holding a tray with three glasses and a whole bottle of bourbon. "That's really more Doc's thing than mine. But I wouldn't say no to an assist with the last of the Seven."

"We'll help," Sam promises. Dean takes the tray from the rat and hands the glasses around, then fills them and sets the bottle in the center of the table. "I told you we would, and I meant it." He means it more now than ever.

Dean nods. "Sure." He glances back and forth between gunslinger girl and his little brother. "Anything else?"

Her glance tracks over to Sam. If he wants her to be complicit in this lie, she will be, but the thread of loyalty connecting them is pretty damn thin. "That's all I've got from my world," she says.

If someone's going to tell Dean, it's not going to be her. That's Sam's choice.

Sam opens his mouth, and Dean pins him with a look. "Before you even think about lyin' to me," he warns, "you better realize that I know there's no fucking way you took the Impala just to go pick her up. Not when you can get here by opening any damn door."

His shoulders slump, even as he raises his chin and glares back at his older brother. "You weren't listening. I had to try, Dean! I had to."

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean rounds on Wynonna in a fury. "Did he even tell you why I ordered him not to? Did he?"

She meets his rage head-on, gaze sharp and level, but it's not Dean or Sam she's seeing as she looks at them.

It's Waverly. It's Willa. "No," she says, flat as a whip crack. "But I can guess."

It's the thing she and Sam hadn't talked about, right? The other end of the deal. Dean's deal gets broken, Sam gets taken away again. And that would have been on her. Hell, Sam had even said it.

I live. Dean lives. She lives. You live.

"He asked for help. I gave it."

"You gave it." Anger's so much easier than this, the sickening swell of fear that threatens to drop him in his tracks.

He doesn't even have to try to remember the feel of mud under his knees, the weight of Sam in his arms, Sam trying to speak and failing, his breathing slowing and his body going slack, slipping away forever without Dean being able to stop it.

Dean has both hands wrapped tight in Sam's shirt front before he can stop himself, and gives him a hard shake. "You could have died! Again! It was a stupid fucking risk to take, Sammy, what the hell were you thinking?"

She could say I wasn't going to let him make a deal that traded his life for yours, but maybe she would have. She's done a lot of things lately that she wouldn't have expected even a few months ago.

Wynonna reaches for her glass as Dean shakes his brother and takes a large swallow. "Look, I know I'm mostly a bystander in all this, but I feel like when it comes to making 'my life for his' deals, you don't have a leg to stand on. But he didn't."

Let him round on her if he wants. She can feel herself spoiling for a fight, the knowledge that she'd let Waverly down only a few hours ago sour and sharp in her stomach. "He was trying to get you both out of it."

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" Sam interrupts, before Dean can whirl on her. He doesn't try to break his hold, but holds his gaze instead, trying to hold his attention as well. "That I shouldn't have done it? No. You're my brother. And I'm not gonna apologize for trying to save you. I'm not."

The silence that descends isn't exactly comfortable. After a few seconds, Dean releases him, roughly, and reaches for his own glass. He wraps his hands around it and stares down into it for a second before tossing it back and pouring another drink.

"Well, you're still here, so that's something." He looks up at them. "So, what, did - did it work?"

You're my brother. She sees, with perfect clarity, the expression on Sam's face when she'd told him about Willa. It should have been me.

Her glance falls to her own drink, then flicks up to Dean's face at his question. Wynonna studies him for a second, then shakes her head. "She said she couldn't even if she wanted to. She didn't hold your contract."

"She didn't?" Dean looks as startled as he sounds. "Then who does?"

"She wouldn't say." Sam's voice is low, but steady - or steady enough. "Said she couldn't tell us. We called her bluff, but ..."

He blows out a breath and reaches for his own glass, finally, then looks up at his brother. "We'll find them. We'll find them, Dean. I'm not giving up, and you better not, either."

She waits for Dean to look away from Sam, to meet her eyes. Quiet, but clear: "I'm sorry."

Sorry it didn't work. Sorry she couldn't do more. Sorry their lives are as fucked sideways as her own. "But Sam's right. And I'm pretty sure this is what my friend Agent Dolls would call a lead."

She lifts her drink again, but pauses before taking a sip. "Find the one that holds your contract. Peacemaker and I will be ready."

"Man, I still can't believe you have the X-Files where you come from, only for real," Dean says, after a moment. His smile's a little too bright, Sam notes, and knows what his brother's doing - and knows he's going to let him get away with it, if only for now. "Listen, don't worry about it. Thanks for trying."

Wynonna's eyebrows pull together at that brilliant grin, the way it crinkles the corners of his eyes, like Dean thinks she's forgotten what he looked like just a second ago.

She looks at Sam. "Is he for real?"

Sam shrugs, and says nothing. The resignation on his face says it all for him.

"Better believe it, sweetheart." Dean reaches for the bottle and pours a new round for all three of them. "Like I said, don't worry about it. Gotta live for the moment, am I right? Especially when there's not that many of them."

He says sweetheart but what she hears is Doc, his drawl low and slow, calling her darlin'. Her glance narrows, shifting from Dean to Sam and back again, and then she shrugs and reaches for her glass to tip it towards Dean, silently asking for a more generous pour.

"If you say so, sugarbutt."

Sam nearly chokes trying to stifle his startled laugh. Dean's eyebrows soar up, and then he grins at her, sharp and still bright.

"That's a new one." He fills the glass with a triple, picks up his own, and clinks it against hers.

She holds her glass for his toast, lifting her eyebrows in a what can I say? kind of way. "Not like you've cornered the market on objectifying nicknames."

Although she wouldn't mind doing a little more 'objectifying' if she got the chance. Like she thought before, the hellbound ones are the most fun. Wynonna watches him over her glass, then leans down and slides Peacemaker out of her boot. She sets the gun on the table with a clunk of metal against wood and tips her chin at it. "Want to take a look?"

Sam probably recognizes the sharp way she focuses on Dean, even though her voice is light. If they both have a little demon in them, she kind of feels like she needs to know.

Dean's eyes brighten. "Damn right I do."

Sam flicks a sharp glance at Wynonna, but says nothing as Dean reaches for the gun. He knows perfectly well why it reacted to him, and Dean... well, Dean doesn't have the same problem.

His brother picks it up with care and turns it over in his hands with the easy familiarity of someone used to handling weapons. "Sweet. Oh, man, this baby's gorgeous."

"Sure is."

She files away the lack of reaction as a mental note and meets Sam's glance with a bland one of her own before turning back to Dean. Wynonna reaches to tap the bottom of the grip. "Check the engraved initials. W.E."

"The real deal," Dean marvels, as Sam tips back a swallow of his bourbon. "Wyatt Earp's Buntline Special. Did Sammy - no, I guess we'd already given it to Bobby when you two met."

I do reckon I know that gun, she hears Doc drawl. Wyatt Earp christened it 'Peacemaker.'

"Bona fide," she says, like she'd said then, and cocks a smile back at Dean over her own bourbon. "And no. I haven't seen it. Heard about it, though."

"Once we get it back, I'll show you." Dean's smile's a little more lazy than before. "If you want, that is."

Sam resists the urge to kick him in the ankle. "Bobby's working on making new ammunition for it," he puts in. "To solve that problem."

She leans over to retrieve Peacemaker, her own smile growing in response to the one he sends her way. "If it's as pretty as that car, I'll want to get my hands all over it."

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