{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching","title":"tifaching","subtitle":"Charter Member of SPN Fanfic Addicts Anonymous","author":{"name":"tifaching"},"link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"service.feed","type":"application\/x.atom+xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom","title":"tifaching"}}],"updated":"2022-02-02T01:39:43Z","entry":[{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching:219715","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/219715.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=219715"}}],"title":"Right With the World","published":"2022-01-06T03:06:54Z","updated":"2022-02-02T01:39:43Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"blowjobs"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam\/dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"nc\/17"}}],"content":"
Title: Right With the World<\/div>
Gifter:Tifaching<\/div>
Pairing\/Characters: Sam\/Dean<\/div>
Word count\/Medium:2285\/Fic<\/div>
Rating: NC\/17<\/div>
Warnings: None<\/div>
Summary: Sam wants a puppy. Sex in the Impala turns out to be better.<\/div>
For  spn_j2_xmas<\/b><\/a> Thank you so much to the mods for their patience and persistence. You all rock.  I got several likes in here for <\/a>clex_monkie89<\/b><\/a>

<\/a>

<\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching:219643","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/219643.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=219643"}}],"title":"Watching","published":"2021-10-30T23:30:39Z","updated":"2021-10-30T23:40:39Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"porn"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"blowjobs"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam\/dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"bottom!dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"bunkerfic"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"nc\/17"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam"}}],"content":"Title: Watching
Pairing: Sam\/Dean
Rating: NC\/17
Word count: 2419

Fill for this years fab <\/a>spn_masquerade<\/span><\/a> kink fest.  Prompt was: Sam bought a fucking machine and can't wait to use it on Dean.  Bonus with overstimulation and Dean in a cock ring not allowed to cum until Sam fucks him.

Summary:  Dean's usually up for new things.  Sam's not sure he can talk him into this one.




<\/p>

Sam sits outside the Lebanon post office, drumming an impatient beat on the Impala's steering wheel.  His package arrived overnight per the tracking e-mail he'd received and as eager as he is to get it home, unpacked and in operation he's planning on being through the facility doors as soon as they're unlocked. A quick glance at his watch shows five minutes until zero hour so he forces himself to relax, leaning his head back against the seat top and picturing Dean as he last saw him. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

His brother’s sitting at the kitchen table, his beloved robe snugged around him as he blearily grips his first cup of coffee.  Sam’s not sure why he’s even up at this hour, but he’s not second guessing it.  Maybe Sam’s excitement is permeating the air in the bunker and Dean couldn’t sleep either?  That’s not very plausible, but Sam will take Dean being awake, caffeinated and showered by the time he gets back from the post office, thank you very much.  Especially the showered part. He can’t wait to bury his nose against Dean’s squeaky clean skin and then spend a few hours making him need another shower very, very badly. HIs mind moves forward to that portion of the day’s activities and when he starts back to awareness it’s quarter past eight and he’s got a good few minutes before he can even think about going into the post office. He banishes the image of Dean spread wide and moaning and replaces it with memories of Mrs. Fleming, his junior high guidance counselor until his raging erection is back under control and he can safely exit the car.  Five minutes later, he’s on his way to the bunker, the plain brown paper wrapped box on the seat beside him. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

*<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Dean’s breakfast dishes are still on the table and when Sam scouts the bunker the shower is running full tilt. He books it back to his room to get set up so he can ambush Dean on his way back down the hallway. He has a brief moment of pause as he fits the pieces together. Dean might object to this experiment and it may not happen at all. Sam quashes the doubt. There haven’t been many new experiences he hasn’t been able to talk his brother into regarding their sex lives and he’s pretty sure this one is very doable. He studies the battery pack for a moment and then finds the nearest outlet for the plug. He’s not sure how long this will go on, but he doesn’t want to run out of juice too soon. When everything’s ready he strips down and covers the machine with a towel. Dean’s not going to see it until Sam’s got him just where he wants him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam waits until Dean’s just past his door before reaching out, snagging the belt of his robe and yanking him inside. He takes advantage of his hand position by pulling on the loose knot in the belt until the robe opens, showing all that delectable skin beneath it. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Hey.” Dean bats Sam’s hands away. “Give a guy some warning.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“You love surprises.” Sam bends down to kiss the objections from Dean’s lips, one hand sliding down his brother’s still damp belly to cup his balls. “And I’ve got a big one for you.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Mmmph.” Dean drops his hand to Sam’s crotch and runs the back of his knuckles up Sam’s straining erection. “Not really a surprise, Sammy.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Got something extra today, baby” Sam whispers, his breath hot against Dean’s ear, hand still stroking his brother’s dick. Dean’s hips thrust gently forward with each pass and he’s trembling slightly in Sam’s grip.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Well, get on with it, then.” Dean’s voice is a hoarse growl and Sam brushes his lips with another kiss before slipping the robe from his shoulders and leading him to the foot of the bed. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Sit,” Sam says and grins at Dean’s cocked eyebrow. “Please.” He licks his lips. “I’ll make it worth your while.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Dean settles on the bed and looks up at Sam expectantly. “Ok, Sammy. Rock my world.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam drops to his knees and buries his nose in the crease of Dean’s thigh, inhaling his brother’s scent, getting muskier by the minute as Dean’s half hard cock stiffens. Sam rubs his thumb over the slick head and begins a slow, twisting glide up and down the thickening shaft. Dean grunts and inches his thighs further apart when Sam adds his mouth to the equation. Sam’s hand never stops moving as he wraps his lips around the head of his brother’s cock and sucks gently, tongue flicking against the leaking slit. He moves to take Dean deeper, tongue still lapping and swirling around sensitive flesh. When Dean’s hand grips his hair to pull him further down, Sam shakes his head and pulls off. That’s not the plan for today. Digging in his pocket he comes up with a loop of leather that he holds up for his brother’s inspection and approval. They don’t do this often but Dean loves each and every time.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Dean lets out a long breath and nods once. “Yeah. Okay, Sammy.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam arranges the straps around Dean’s heavy balls, pulling them tight before fastening a loop around the base of his cock. The dark leather against his brother’s flushed skin is gorgeous and Sam licks a hot stripe around each strip before moving on to the next step. Moving to the table he’s got their new toy set up on, he has a moment of hesitation. The cock ring might be all Dean is eager to play with today. Still, no guts no glory and Sam pulls the towel away to let Dean see what he’s got planned. A quick glance at his brother’s confused face doesn’t give him a lot of hope.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“What the hell is that?” Dean’s still sitting on the bed, but his hands are clenched in the blankets and he looks like he might bolt, bound cock or no.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“It’s a fucking machine,” Sam says, running his tongue along his lips.  Dean interrupts him before he can go any further.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“What do you need that for? Do a pretty good impression of a fucking machine yourself.” He stops and looks away, then back at Sam. There's anger in his voice but that's not what Sam sees in his eyes. “You don’t want to fuck me?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Oh, shit. Sam hurries over to sit beside Dean on the bed. “Hey.” He turns his brother’s head to face him. “Of course I want to fuck you.”  He drops a hand to Dean’s cock and fingers the leather straps. “When this comes off I’m going to be banging you so hard you’ll be screaming for it.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Then why?” Dean waves his hand vaguely toward the machine.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Because I want to watch,” Sam says and sees Dean’s eyes widen at the answer as he hears the absolute hunger in Sam's voice.  “I want to see you open up for me.  Want to see that pretty hole stretched around a dick sliding in and out and it sure as hell isn’t going to be anyone else’s dick, so a dildo it is.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Dean swallows hard as he keeps his eyes locked on Sam’s. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, I guess we can try it out.” <\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam wraps his hand around the back of Dean’s head and pulls him into a long kiss. “Thank you,” he says as he moves to set the machine where he wants it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“How.”  Dean shifts on the bed. “How do you want me?”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“On your back, right where you are.”  Sam grabs some pillows and two thick folded comforters and slides them under his brother’s hips, adjusting them so Dean’s positioned just how he wants him. He spreads Dean’s thighs back so the tight muscles of his ass part just enough to expose the holy grail of his hole, so pink and perfect Sam wants to plunder it with his tongue, but that’s play for another time. His gaze travels from that beautiful sight over Dean’s straining red cock down his taut belly and over his peaked nipples to his face and his breath catches at the expression there. “So gorgeous, Dean.” He runs a lubed finger over Dean’s hole and watches his brother shudder. “All for me. Only for me.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Sammy,” Dean whispers, every word he will never say coming through in his tone.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam spreads the dildo with a thick coating of lube before adjusting the angle to place the head flush against Dean’s hole.  “Ready?” he asks, running a hand down Dean’s face and running his thumb across his lips.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Dean sucks Sam’s thumb into his mouth and nods. “As I”ll ever be.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Gonna start slow,” Sam promises, setting the machine to gradually increase speed and penetration. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Still gonna be some work to do when it gets to be your turn,” Dean says, eyeing the dildo, much smaller and thinner than Sam’s cock.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“That’s the idea,” Sam says with a grin. “But if you’re into this, we can go bigger next time.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam flips the switch and watches breathlessly as the flared head of the dildo pushes against Dean's rim. His tongue peeks out between his teeth as the flesh stretches, flexes, and the dildo presses slowly in then pulls back out before disappearing once again. It's slow, glacial and Sam wants it faster, deeper, but for this first time he's got to do it this way. Even at this pace, the dildo fucking into Dean is incandescently hot. He looks down at Dean to see his reaction, make sure he’s okay and Dean’s not looking at the machine. He’s not watching the dildo working him open. His eyes are squarely on Sam and from the shine in his eyes and the way his lips are crooked up, he’s getting off on watching Sam watch him get fucked as hard as Sam’s getting off on watching. Sam turns his attention back to Dean’s ass and lets out a long breath as the dildo speeds up and penetrates further into his brother. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Fuck.” Dean lets out a low groan and his hips twitch up the first time his prostate is brushed over. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam’s breath catches at how gorgeous his brother looks. Leaving the machine to its job for a moment, Sam stretches out beside Dean and captures his mouth, swallowing the moans down like honey. He runs his hand around Dean’s balls and down the shaft of his cock, coating his fingers with the liquid flowing from his slit and rubbing the slick across the pebbled nubs of his brother’s nipples.  Dean twitches under his hands and his hips move even more and Sam smiles against Dean’s mouth.  Playing with Dean’s nipples is a sure fire way to get his motor even more overheated than it already is. He pinches Dean’s peaked nipples and rolls them between his fingers, always keeping his mouth pressed against his brother’s and the long line of his erection tight against Dean’s hip.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

After a long moment he breaks the kiss and turns his attention back to the steady back and forth of the silicone cock drilling into Dean’s ass. It’s reached the maximum depth and speed Sam set it for and he watches, enthralled at each pass as Dean works to impale himself on it further.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Sam,” Dean gasps.  “Sammy, please, want you in me.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam grins and turns the machine off, carefully removing the dildo and moving the machine back out of his way. He pulls the pillows and blankets out from under Dean’s hips and shoves him further up the bed to make room for himself to get to work.  Hooking Dean’s knees under his elbows, he bends Dean in half, pressing his cock into Dean’s loosened hole in the same motion. His thrusts come hard and fast, doing in the flesh what the machine couldn’t, opening Dean up all the way until his balls rest against his brother’s ass. Sam knows Dean is ready to pop and he’s not all that far behind himself.  He’d thought watching Dean get fucked would be a turn on but damn, he had no idea how much.  Now he keeps his attention on his brother’s flushed face, the way his chest is working like a bellows and the way his cock bounces against his belly every time Sam slams into him. Dean’s staring right back, every bit of trust he’s got in Sam shining in his eyes. That right there threatens to tip Sam over the edge as much as the glide of his cock in Dean’s tight heat and he reaches down to undo the cock ring so his brother can come before he does. It takes a few more strokes before Dean’s back arches and he lets out a sharp yell as his dick spasms, streams of white streaking down his belly and chest and spattering his cheeks. Sam can’t breathe for a moment at the sight as he continues to fuck into Dean and watching his brother shudder beneath him fuels Sam’s climax and he comes deep inside Dean. They stare at each other for a moment, Sam’s cock softening as he pulls out. <\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Okay?” Sam asks, running his thumb across Dean’s come streaked cheek.<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Yeah. That could be done again.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“We could go bigger next time.” Sam gestures at the machine. “They come in all sizes.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Nah, that one’s good.  It could go faster, maybe.”  He smiles contentedly up at Sam. “I like you coming in to finish what it started.” He smacks Sam’s chest with the back of his hand.  “And next time before I take a shower, not after.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Sam grins down at him. “We could continue this in the shower if you want.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

Dean raises an eyebrow.  “I’m not continuing shit at the moment.  I need a damn nap now and it’s only the middle of the morning.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Wore you out, did I?” <\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Toss me the towel you had hiding your new toy and shut the hell up.”<\/span><\/span><\/p>

“Our new toy,” Sam corrects him and Dean nods and shrugs. Sam grabs the towel and over Dean’s protestations, wipes his brother clean. Dean’s eyelids are sliding closed and Sam drapes a blanket over him before cleaning himself up and sliding in next to him. Dean sighs and settles with his back to Sam’s chest and Sam drapes an arm over his brother. When Dean wakes up Sam will very much help him out with that shower and maybe even make him lunch.<\/span><\/span><\/p><\/a>

<\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching:219309","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/219309.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=219309"}}],"title":"Reading Bingo","published":"2021-01-11T00:24:47Z","updated":"2021-01-11T00:24:47Z","category":{"@attributes":{"term":"not fic"}},"content":"                                             


Not sure how far I'll get in this, but I've got to read more books and less Twitter, lol.  Wish me luck!"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching:218911","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/218911.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=218911"}}],"title":"Our Own Story","published":"2021-01-11T00:16:00Z","updated":"2021-01-22T01:09:37Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"gen"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"bunkerfic"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"samhurt!dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"christmas fic."}}],"content":"Title: Our Own Story
Author: Tifaching
Characters: Dean, Sam, OCs
Genre: Gen, Post Season 15 ep 19
Word Count: 4772
A\/N: Written for <\/a>stardustdean<\/b><\/a><\/span> at this year's  <\/a>spn_j2_xmas<\/span><\/a>  exchange.


Dean sees the beer can wreath at the liquor store and almost walks off with it for old time’s sake. He drops the case of PBR on the counter next to bourbon, rum and three bottles of pre-spiked eggnog and stares at the ring of Budweiser cans for a moment before shaking his head.


“You want it?” The clerk glances from Dean to the wreath and back. “Can let you have it for five bucks. Won’t take me a minute to make another.”<\/p>


“Nah.” Dean says with a bit of real regret. “Different time, different place, maybe. But this year, nope.”<\/p>


“Gotcha,” the clerk says, ringing him up and nodding at Dean to swipe his card. “But if you’re looking for the real thing, my kid’s Girl Scout troop is selling them in front of Lebow’s.”<\/p>


“My next stop.” Dean tucks the case under one arm and scoops up the box with the bottles. “Maybe I’ll pick one up while I’m there.”<\/p>


“Hey,” the clerk says as Dean’s nudging the door open with his hip. “My kid’s name’s Maura. Tell her I sent you and maybe she’ll give you a deal.”<\/p>


“Sure thing,” Dean says, nodding. “Merry Christmas, man.” The clerk’s response follows him out into the chill of the cloud dark afternoon.<\/p>


*<\/p>


It’s spitting snow when Dean leaves the grocery store, the usual supplies laid in for the week plus a spiral ham, a bag of potatoes, a bag of frozen green beans, an apple pie, a pumpkin pie and a buttload of snacks. There are two tables set up outside the door and he loads the food in the trunk before he heads over to check them out. There are short lines at both so he hangs back, stamping his feet and blowing on his fingers to keep them warm. When he gets to the front of the line and gets a look at the table a soft groan escapes his lips.<\/p>


“See something you like, hon?” The speaker is huddled beneath a candy cane bedecked fleece blanket and a knitted hat barely containing flyaways from her grey flecked hair. “Individual cookies are fifty cents, a dozen for five dollars and the pies and cakes start at eight. All money goes to the Lebanon library fund.”<\/p>


“Gotta love a good library,” Dean says, eying a plate full of Santa shaped cookies and a strawberry rhubarb pie. “My little brother spent half his childhood in them.”<\/p>


“They’re a refuge for a lot of kids,” she says with a smile. “So, what’s it going to be?”<\/p>


“How much for the plate of Santa cookies and the strawberry rhubarb pie?”<\/p>


“Thirteen even,” she says, pulling off her mittens and opening the cash box.”<\/p>


Dean hands her a twenty and collects his goodies. “Keep the change,” he says, returning her bright smile. “And Merry Christmas.”<\/p>


His smile widens as he walks across to the display of wreaths surrounded by small figures in brightly colored parkas. “Hey,” he says as he approaches the girls. “You got some real nice looking wreaths here.”<\/p>


“We decorated them ourselves,” a girl in a red coat says, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around her face. “You gonna buy one?”<\/p>


“Are you Maura?” Dean asks. “’Cause I hear I can get a deal.”<\/p>


“I’m Maura,” says a girl by the cash box wearing a camo jacket and SkiDoo hat with a turned up brim. She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “And don’t listen to my dad. We don’t make deals.”<\/p>


“Glad to hear it.” Dean gives Maura a thumbs up. “Not making deals is a good way to go through life. Well, let’s see what you’ve got.” He makes a circuit around the rack and it certainly looks true that the girls did the decorations themselves. Strings of popcorn, sprigs of plastic holly and hand painted wooden ornaments nestle among the fragrant green boughs. There are no white flowers, but it never hurts to be sure. He pokes his head around the rack. “No meadow sweet in these, is there?”<\/p>


“That stuff’s way out of our price range,” says a woman next to Maura with a slash of a smile. “The girls work hard to stay within our budget.”<\/p>


“Never was a fan of it.” Dean peers at a wreath hanging off the side of the rack. “Now this is more like it. How much?”<\/p>


“I made that one,” says the little girl in the red coat excitedly. “It’s fifteen dollars.”<\/p>


“Well, it’s just right, sweetheart. My little brother will approve.” Dean digs out another twenty and hands it to Maura with instructions again to keep the change.<\/p>


“Thank you,” she says, tucking the bill away. “The boys are selling trees down at the hardware store if you still need one.”<\/p>


“Think I’m going to cut my own this year,” Dean says, because why not? This is a special Christmas and he can swing an axe with the best of them.<\/p>


“Better hurry up, then…” The woman, pauses for a second looking at Dean expectantly, then raises an eyebrow.<\/p>


“Um, Dean,” Dean says, catching on. He gives her his best smile, because she is kind of cute with her rosy cheeks and her elf hat. “And you are?”
“Maria,” she says with a real smile of her own. “I’m the girls’ Scout leader. And if you’re thinking about cutting your tree at one of the local farms, they start getting sparse this close to Christmas.”<\/p>


“I was kind of thinking of going out in the woods and getting one.” Dean shrugs and gestures in the direction of a forest, somewhere. “I mean, people do that, right?”<\/p>


“I guess,” Maria says. “Maybe. But there aren’t any woods nearby to do that in. Fir trees don’t exactly grow in Kansas. When I lived in Colorado my dad used to get ours from a forest a couple of hours away, but that’s a long way to go from here to get a tree. Plus, there was some weird stuff happening out there and I don’t think anyone is allowed in those woods anymore.”<\/p>


“How do they keep people out? No trespassing signs and a chain across the parking area?”<\/p>


“Well, yeah.” Maria lip curls up at his tone. “I guess it wouldn’t be very effective.”<\/p>


“So, tell me why no one is allowed out there.” Dean lowers his voice conspiratorially and winks at the girls. “Is it Bigfoot?”
*<\/p>


“You want to do what, now?” Sam shakes his head and swallows a mouthful of the mushroom and bacon pizza Dean picked up at his last stop before returning home. “You know the Boy Scouts are selling them right at the hardware store.”<\/p>


Dean turns in his seat to look out the door to where the wreath he bought is hanging on the iron bannister of the stairwell, shining softly in the glow of the lights he’d strung there before his shopping trip. Sam hadn’t been nearly as enamored of the bright red noses painstakingly painted on the wooden reindeer as Dean had thought he would be. He couldn’t get enough of the show as a kid. “Look,” he says, with his best entreating gaze. “This is the first real, non-scripted Christmas we’ve ever had. And even our fake Christmases weren’t very, you know, merry. I mean, there’s no apocalypse going on, we’re not pissed at each other and neither of us is dead or dying. We can try something new for once in our lives, don’t you think? I mean, if we hate getting our own tree, next year we hit up the Boy Scouts, what do you say?”<\/p>


“Where are we even going to get one? Pine trees don’t grow in Kansas, dude.”<\/p>


Dean sighs as he slips Miracle his pizza crust under the table and grins as the dog licks his fingers clean of bacon grease and sauce. Trust Sam to know that. “Well, the troop leader for the Girl Scouts I bought the wreath from told me about a place in Colorado-“<\/p>


“Colorado?” Sam cuts his brother off mid-explanation. “The Colorado border is four hours away, almost. And getting to any forest that has a tree we might want would be hours from there. We are not driving twelve or thirteen hours round trip to get a Christmas tree.”<\/p>


“You got plans with some hot chick tomorrow and the next day, or what? Why are you so against this? We drive there, get a hotel, get a tree and come back.” Dean digs his fingers into the soft fur behind Miracle’s ears and kneads them as he works on convincing his brother. ”Sam, why are you the boy who hates Christmas?”<\/p>


Sam laughs and shakes his head. “That is so not going to work this time. You are not dying. And the last two actual Christmases we had, I ended up getting my fingernails pulled out. I am more than willing to have a nice Christmas here in the bunker but I am not going to Colorado to get a tree. Have fun, don’t chop your leg off and I’ll help you set it up when you get back.”<\/p>


“Okay, but if you’d let me finish telling my Colorado story, you would have gotten the fact that there might be a hunt there into your anti-traveling mind.”<\/p>


“What kind of a hunt?”<\/p>


Dean doesn’t let his brother’s obvious skepticism get him down. “Well, Maria, that’s the Girl Scout leader, told me a story about a patch of forest where a half dozen separate groups went out to cut their own trees and never came back. Search parties found no sign of them. She hasn’t kept up with it, but says that patch has been closed down and posted for years by the Forest Service.”<\/p>


“And?” Sam pulls another piece of pizza from the box.<\/p>


Dean takes advantage of his brother’s full mouth to continue with his tale. “One person did get out. A kid about nine or ten who was out with his dad. Search party found him walking down the road in shock, freezing, going on about a tree monster taking his father. The searchers managed to find his trail out of the woods but when they followed it back there were no other tracks. Not from the father or whatever took him.”<\/p>


Taking a last swallow of his beer, Sam wipes his mouth with a napkin and tilts his head toward his brother. “When did all this happen?”<\/p>


“According to Maria, the kid’s dad was the last one and that was about ten years ago. Since then nothing.”<\/p>


“You done any research on this at all, other than to get this Maria’s phone number?”<\/p>


“Sam, there were children present.” Dean shuts the pizza box and gets up to put the leftovers away. His lip curls up at Sam’s eyeroll. “But I’ll definitely get it when they sell their cookies.”<\/p>


“Long as you get some cookies too.” Sam stretches as he gets up from the table. “I’m turning in. If you’re driving to Colorado tomorrow you better get some sleep.”<\/p>


“If we’re driving to Colorado tomorrow,” Dean yells after him, heading for the kitchen with Miracle at his heels.<\/p>


*<\/p>


He boots up his computer before he hits the rack, searching Colorado disappearances, Christmas and trees. It takes a bit of digging, but the story pops up in several local papers spanning months. Kurt Masterson, age 12, was out with his father looking for a Christmas tree. Dean’s brow creases as he reads the accounts until a grin spreads across his face. “Bingo,” he whispers before nudging Miracle out of the middle of the bed as he crawls under the covers. Sam is definitely coming with him tomorrow. “You got to stay here, though, kiddo,” he whispers to the dog. “I’ll put down lots of newspapers and extra food.”<\/p>


*<\/p>


They’re halfway to Colorado and Sam is pouring yet another cup of coffee from the thermos before he speaks his first words to his brother. “There better be a hunt here Dean, so help me God.”<\/p>


“Weren’t you listening at all this morning?”<\/p>


“It’s still this morning Dean. That was at the crack of dawn and you were dragging me out of bed yammering something about trees. You’re lucky I managed to get dressed in, like, the two minutes you gave me before you rushed me out of the bunker.<\/p>


“I gave you plenty of time and bacon and eggs for breakfast. What, were you sleep eating?”<\/p>


“Are you sure it’s a tree spirit?” Sam sinks down in his seat and upends the thermos, forlornly watching the last few drops fall into his cup.<\/p>


“From the description in the papers, it could be the twin of the one that almost skewered you on that hunt in Montana when you were what, fifteen?”<\/p>


“Fourteen,” Sam says with a twist to his lips.<\/p>


“Well, you did a brilliant job of distracting it while Dad and I shot it full of flaming arrows. Good thing we were near a lake or we would have set the whole damn forest on fire.”<\/p>


“Mmm,” Sam says, shaking his head. “Any idea on how we’re going to take this one out? Assuming it’s even still there?”<\/p>


“Well, I brought bows. And arrows. But this being winter, they might not work as well this time.” He looks at Sam and waggles his eyebrows. “And I brought the grenade launcher. “Cause, you know, we didn’t have one of those last time.”<\/p>


“Can’t believe Dad never got his hands on one,” Sam says with a snort. “Because it sure would have come in handy a whole lot of times.”<\/p>


Dean pops a new tape in and taps on the steering wheel as Metallica blasts out of the speakers. The sun’s rising behind them and bright light glints off the snow lining the highway as the Impala rolls along.<\/p>


*<\/p>


They reach Conifer, just outside of Pike National Forest a little after two but they keep on to the parking lot of the trailhead the Masterson’s had taken into the woods. The lot’s not plowed, so Dean doesn’t bother getting out to cut the chain holding the gate closed and instead pulls the Impala off the side of the road near the entrance. The sun is still shining brightly, lighting the tops of the trees, but the path leading under them is shadowed. Dean gets out, Sam right behind him and clambers over the iron gate, grunting as he levers himself over the top. Sam swings right over it with no effort at all and Dean resists the urge to start a snowball fight. The snow in the lot is crusty but not too deep, their boots sinking only down to the ankle. It crunches underfoot as they approach the trees.<\/p>


“Not going to be able to sneak up on anything tomorrow,” Dean grumbles, scrutinizing the faded wooden trail map. He reaches out to circle a trio of barely visible pine trees. “Here’s the main Christmas tree trail. Looks like it goes a mile or two in. I mean, who wants to drag a tree back further than that, right?”<\/p>


“Not me, that’s for sure. If we manage to not disappear tomorrow and you get your tree you better have a way to get it back to the car yourself.” He stares at Dean with narrowed eyes. “I can’t believe you’re going to strap a freakin’ tree with scratchy needles and branches to the top of the car anyway. Are you sure you’re my brother?”<\/p>


“I got it covered, man. You think I’d risk my baby?” Dean clomps back across the parking lot and rubs a hand across the Impala’s ice frosted roof. “You know I’ve got it covered, don’t you, girl.” He looks up to catch Sam sending an amused smile his way and sends his brother a mock affronted look before getting in the car.<\/p>


*<\/p>


“Okay, so let’s go over it again.” Sam pushes the crumb filled paper wrapper from his fish tacos to the side of the table and settles a beer down in its place.<\/p>


“So,” Dean says, pulling another beer for himself out of the fridge. “The kid said nothing happened until his dad hit the tree with the axe but the shit hit the fan right away after that. The ground started to shake, there was a noise like the wind in a tornado-“<\/p>


“But no wind?”<\/p>


“No wind. There wasn’t a great description of the tree. Poor kid was too busy running. But from what he saw, it was about two or three times as tall as his dad, covered in moss and the branches were long and thin and whipped around like one of those rides at the fair.” Dean takes a long pull from his beer and blows out a breath. “And at the end, he said the ground wasn’t just shaking, it seemed to be really moving under his dad’s feet. Cops said he must have been in shock, because, you know, cops.<\/p>


“Yeah.” Sam shakes his head and blinks. “So, you take the grenade launcher, I take the flaming arrows and tomorrow we end this thing?”<\/p>


“That’s the plan. Maybe a couple of machetes to go along with the axes too. Be prepared, that’ s our motto, right?.”<\/p>


“Dad made sure.” Sam lifts his bottle and clinks it with Dean’s. “Here’s hoping the damned thing’s still there.”<\/p>


“Here’s hoping.”<\/p>


Later, when the lights are down, Dean listens to Sam’s breathy snores from three feet away and feels a small pang at how much he misses this. The bunker is home, they’ve made it home, but being out on the road is a feeling he’s missed. Maybe in the spring he can talk Sam into a road trip. Just a nice, stress free vacation for them and Miracle to enjoy.<\/p>


*<\/p>


The next morning dawns grey and overcast. Sam grabs breakfast burritos and coffee from the motel restaurant while Dean preps the arrows for their fiery mission. The blades are already sharp but he passes a whet stone over them a few times just to be sure. The grenade launcher is always, always ready to go.<\/p>


“All right, let’s get out there.” Dean stuffs the last of his burrito into his mouth and slings the weapons bag over his shoulder. “Weather’s supposed to hold until tonight, but I don’t want to take any chances. Getting caught in a white out in the middle of the woods wouldn’t really be optimal for our plan.”<\/p>


“For killing the tree demon?”<\/p>


“And getting the Christmas tree. Don’t forget about the Christmas tree, Sam.”<\/p>


“Like you’d let me.” Sam follows Dean outside, slamming the door behind him.<\/p>


*<\/p>


The path through the woods is dim and still, only the creaking of branches and the occasional call of a bird competing with the sound of their footsteps. Sam’s got a hat pulled down over his ears, strands of hair curling out around his neck. Dean’s a few steps behind and he can’t resist.<\/p>


“You know, Sammy, if you’d just let me take a pair of scissors and trim right where that hat ends, you wouldn’t need nearly as much fancy shampoo for that mop of yours.” Sam’s raised middle finger is his only reply and Dean laughs to himself as he follows his brother down the trail. The path broadens as they travel and they tread warily, moving away from each other as they step into a clearing just as the sun peeks out of a gap in the clouds.<\/p>


“Wow.” Sam’s staring at the tree centered in the sudden sunbeam in the middle of the clearing.<\/p>


“Yeah.” Dean nods his agreement. The tree’ s a little taller than him, a little shorter than Sam and so perfectly shaped that it could have been set dow here right from a book on the best of the best Christmas trees that anyone could ever want to cut down. “Soooo, trap?”<\/p>


“Definitely.” Sam drops the weapons bag and his bow from his shoulder and sticks his arrows fletch down in the snow, ready to be lit. “Let’s spring it and get out of here before my toes freeze solid.”<\/p>


“All right.” Dean loosens the straps holding the grenade launcher to his back so he can get it to his hands smoothly and picks up his axe, moving to the center of the clearing. “Be distracting, Sammy.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam light his arrows and nock one in his bow, staggering as the ground immediately shifts beneath his feet. A high pitched screech fills the air rivaling the howl of the wind in a gale. And then, between one blink and the next, it’s there.<\/p>


“Shit,” Dean says, fighting to maintain his own footing. The ground is actually writhing under his feet, frozen clumps of earth dragged out of place to leave a yawning cavern opening behind him. Switch thick branches lash out and he can feel bruising lacerations blooming beneath his clothes. Sam’s arrow goes flying by, batted down by the flailing tentacles but the distraction works and he’s able to drop the grenade launcher into his hands. He’s only going to get one shot and he better make it a good one. “Take cover, Sam!”<\/p>


“Go, Dean,” is Sam’s muffled reply.
Dean can’t look to see if it’s muffled because Sam has taken cover or if he’s being strangled by the tree so he does what he can do aiming the grenade center trunk and tightening his finger on the trigger. As he’s about to pull it, a root wraps itself around his ankle, twisting him off balance while a second wraps around his waist, propelling him backward into the pit that’s reached his position. Only a lifetime of muscle memory and trigger discipline saves him from sending the grenade off into the forest. As he’s falling, he grits his teeth, tucks the launcher against his side and fires, letting out a breathless but heartfelt “Fuck you, Chuck,” when it hits right where he aimed. The tree stills for a moment, branches, roots, screeching, then explodes, chunks of pulverized wood raining down like mortar shells. Dean folds his arms across his head but the only chunk of wood that lands in his vicinity is caught by a lattice of roots strung above him. He struggles to take in the breath knocked out of him by the fall but only manages to whoosh one out as a flaming arrow arcs overhead. The band around his chest eases and air flows in to his needy lungs as Sam’s face appears above him.<\/p>


“Dean? You ok?”<\/p>


Yeah,<\/i> Dean wants to say. Of course.<\/i> but the words won’t come. He doesn’t think they’re true anyway. His right shoulder has the specific numbness of dislocation and his ankle feels like it’s on fire where it is still manacled by the tree root. His vision is fuzzy, or maybe it’s just Sam’s face that is. The issue doesn’t become clearer when Sam drops down beside him and Sam’s face is right up close and personal with his, checking for headwounds and peeling back his eyelids. Still kind of fuzzy. “’m stuck,” he manages, gesturing vaguely at his ankle. “An’ my shoulder’s fucked up.”<\/p>


“Just hold on. I’m going to get you out.”<\/p>


Sam’s voice is receding, though his fuzzy face is still right there. It’s cold down here in the frozen ground with the tree roots and the wood chunks and, Dean turns his head a little, the bones. “S’m.”<\/p>


“I see them, Dean.”<\/p>


Sam’s sawing through the tree root with his knife and Dean lets out a tiny whimper of relief when he’s free. He feels his brother’s fingers probing and manipulating the joint.<\/p>


“Think your boot saved you some damage there. All right, let’s get us somewhere warm, ok?” Sam’s hand slides under Dean’s good shoulder and gently eases him to a sitting position. “Can you stand?”<\/p>


Dean can’t, but he never really lets things like that stop him. Wrapping a hand around Sam’s forearm, he takes a deep breath. “OK.” Sam rises slowly to his feet, bringing Dean along with him. Dean takes one step forward at his brother’s side before the sky slips sideways and his head spins him down into darkness.<\/p>


*<\/p>


It’s warm when Dean wakes up, and quiet. He’s tired but his head feels clear. Taking stock of his injuries, there’s a sling on his right shoulder and his left ankle is sore but not throbbing, propped on at least three pillows. A familiar warmth is stretched out beside him and he laughs as a wet nose probes his ear. “Hey buddy,” he says, wrapping his good arm around the dog. The desk lamp in the corner provides enough light to see Sam sacked out in a chair by the door. He stirs when Miracle yips happily as Dean rubs his belly.<\/p>


“Hey.” Sam rotates his shoulders and yawns, running his fingers through his hair. “How you feeling?<\/p>


“Not bad, actually.” Dean sits up cautiously and then swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Crap! Did I miss Christmas?”<\/p>


“Just in time for Christmas Eve, dude. Well, this time. You’ve been in and out.”<\/p>


“Are you OK?”<\/p>


Sam laughs and slowly twists from side to side after he gets up from the chair. “Strained my back a little lugging your dead weight two miles through the woods to the car and then down the bunker stairs. Dude, you need a diet.”<\/p>


“Maybe you just need more strength training, Princess.” Dean gets to his feet, batting Sam’s hand away when he tries to help. “Hey, did you get the tree?”<\/p>


“The tree,” Sam says. “You mean from the woods? When the grenade went off, that tree turned to kindling. By the time we left, there was no tree.”<\/p>


“Oh.” Dean tries not to let his disappointment show, but Sam claps him on his good shoulder and smiles as he heads out of the room.<\/p>


“C’mon. Make it as far as the library and I’ll bring you something to eat.”<\/p>


Dean limps after his brother and slowly makes his way down the hallway, leaning on the wall for support when Sam’s not looking. When he reaches the entrance to the library he stops short, a delighted smile spreading over his face.<\/p>


“You like?”<\/p>


Dean stares at the tree in the corner, leaning a little crooked in its stand. Tiny colored lights flash on and off and red and green glass balls hang from the branches. “I like,” he replies. “But I’ve got some ornaments too.<\/p>


“Oh, you told me.” Sam grins at Dean’s confused look. “You were in and out, remember? I didn’t want to tell you we got a Boy Scout tree, but you made sure your ornaments got put on whatever we ended up with.”<\/p>


Dean looks more closely at the tree and sees the wizard’s spellbook ornament he got for Sam hanging alongside Miracles monogrammed dog bone. He makes his way to the table and falls into a chair, still staring at the tree.<\/p>


“Here,” Sam says, handing him a small package. “This one’s for you.”<\/p>


Dean peels back the paper and opens the box to find a tiny replica of the Impala. He clasps it in his hand as he looks up at his brother. “Thank you, Sam. I love it.” He starts to get out of his chair again, sinks back down. Holding out the ornament, he looks at Sam and shrugs. “You mind?”<\/p>


Sam takes the ornament and hangs it on the tree, spacing it between two lights so their glow reflects from its glossy surface. He circles out to the kitchen and returns with two glasses of egg nog, placing one in front of his brother. “Non-alcoholic today, Dean. Maybe you can work your way up to the high octane version tomorrow. He raises his glass. Merry Christmas.”<\/p>


Dean stares at Sam’s hands, one wrapped around the glass, the other splayed on the table. “You got all your fingernails, man.”<\/p>


“I do.” Sam studies his nails for a moment. “We did it, Dean. Our own story.”<\/p>


“Our own story.” Dean looks at the tree and can’t stop smiling. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”<\/p><\/a>

<\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching:218812","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/218812.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=218812"}}],"title":"Road Trip","published":"2020-12-02T01:56:29Z","updated":"2020-12-02T01:56:29Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"john"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"summergen"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"pg"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"ocs"}}],"content":"Title: Road Trip
Author: <\/a>tifaching<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Recipient: <\/a>boysinperil<\/b><\/a><\/span>
Characters: Dean, John, OCs
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count:7941
Summary: Dean's got some cash, some alone time and the Impala. Time to hit the road.

My entry for Summergen 2020 that I just realized I never posted here, duh.

I realize that young Dean on the road has all sorts of opportunities for sexy times, but this is SummerGEN, lol. 


“Dean. Hey.”


Dean ignores the voice and rolls over, curling up under the light sheet covering him and shifting to find a cool spot on his overheated pillow. His attempt to gain a few more moments of oblivion fails when droplets of cold liquid spatter across his face. It feels kind of good, actually, but his dad can come up with a lot more physical ways to get him out of bed so he reluctantly sits up, rubbing his eyes.<\/p>


“Okay, okay,” he says, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. “I’m awake.”<\/p>


“Good.” John’s sitting on the opposite bed, cradling a cup of steaming coffee, the grey light of dawn seeping through the dingy curtains behind him. Dean’s eyes fix on the coffee and his father grins and motions with his cup to the bedside table. “Late night?”<\/p>


“Mmmmph,” Dean nods, sipping at his own cup of scalding coffee. The clock on the bed table reads five forty-seven a.m. and he’d closed down the local pool hall at a little after three. His lip quirks up at the memory of how he’d closed it down and the pull on his split lip comes just as a splash of coffee hits it and he sets down the cup with a muffled curse.<\/p>


Rough<\/i> night?” John gently grips Dean’s chin and tilts his head to get a good look at his shiner. “Anything worse?”<\/p>


“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, willing himself to not hunch over his aching ribs. “And it was worth it.”<\/p>


“How worth it?”<\/p>


“Very worth it.”<\/p>

Dean reaches out one bare foot and snags the beltloop of his jeans, dragging them across the floor until he can lift them without bending over too much. He digs into the pocket and comes out with a thick roll of bills. “Very, very<\/i> worth it.”<\/p>


“Whew.” John lets out a low whistle and plucks the money from Dean’s hand, flipping through the bills as he raises an eyebrow. “Pool or poker?”<\/p>


“Pool. I lucked into the night of the annual local big shot tournament.” Dean shifts uncomfortably on the bed and his father’s gaze sharpens.<\/p>


“Sore losers?”<\/p>


“Yeah. Fortunately they sucked even worse at fighting than they did shooting pool.” Dean takes another careful sip of coffee. “So, what’s up? I know you didn’t disturb my hard earned sleep to drink coffee and talk about my night.”<\/p>


“Yeah.” John peels a few bills off the roll and tucks them in his pocket before handing the rest back to Dean. “Caleb caught wind of a hunt in Louisiana he needs backup on. Nest of ghouls, he thinks. Should be here any minute to pick me up.”<\/p>


“Wait. Dean shakes his woozy head. “Why don’t we just meet him where he is?”<\/p>


“Because,” John says, dropping the Impala’s keys on the table, “somebody needs to pick up Sam at Jim’s.”<\/p>


Dean shakes his head again, swallowing down a sigh. “Dad, Pastor Jim’s camp runs through Saturday. If I pick him up early I’ll never hear the end of it. And you know Sam could stay there after for as long as he wants.”<\/p>


“Jim’s got a seminar in Kansas City starting on Sunday. Trust me, I had the same thought. It’s a day’s drive, Dean. You could hang out until Saturday.” John grins at the expression on his eldest’s face. “Or not. The room’s paid through tonight.” He gestures at Dean’s pool hall haul. “You can cover your own room and board for the rest of the week if you decide not to go to Jim’s.”<\/p>


“Deal,” Dean says, stifling a yawn. “What should I do after I pick up Sam?’<\/p>


“Hunker down somewhere near Jim’s. I’ll call when the hunt is done.”<\/p>


Two brief blasts from a horn sound and John drains his cup and tosses it in the trash before grabbing his duffle and heading for the door. Dean waits until his father’s back is turned before pushing himself up from the bed, gritting his teeth to suppress a groan. He returns Caleb’s taciturn wave and nod from the doorway and straightens when John turns to him before getting in Caleb’s truck.<\/p>


“We’ll probably be at least a week, maybe two. Keep your phone charged, be in Blue Earth on Saturday and take care of those ribs.”<\/p>


Dean nods and lets himself sag against the doorway, just a bit. “Yes, sir.” He watches until the truck turns out of the parking lot and heads down the road before locking the door and heading back to bed.<\/p>


*<\/p>


Dean sleeps until noon and wakes with a head less filled with cotton and a torso still screaming bloody murder. He swallows a couple of aspirin that may or may not be in date with the dregs of his ice cold coffee. His left side is a massive bruise, but carfeful probing at his ribs doesn’t show any signs of real damage. A hot shower and careful stretching ease the pain a little so he’s extra hopeful it’s just a muscle strain. The one good shot the local pool shark got in last night was a pool cue directly into Dean’s rib cage so hope might be mixed up with delusion but he’s good that way, so whatever.<\/p>


He gives his clothes the sniff test and puts on the least offensive he can find. A rumbling from his midsection reminds him he hasn’t eaten since last night and he sighs as he finishes lacing up his boots. The coffee shop at the motel can’t make a decent cheeseburger or plate of pancakes and the only other eating place within twenty miles is a bar with some pool tables that he probably shouldn’t be showing his face at any time soon. He takes a deep breath gaze traveling from the suspicious spots on the carpet to the mildew on the ceiling by the bathroom door. He blows the breath out and straightens his shoulders, a grin forming on his face. Dad said he had to pay for his own room and board. He didn’t say he had to do it here.<\/p>


Ten minutes later he’s stashing his duffle and his winnings under the fake floor in the Impala’s trunk and peeling out of the parking lot. He heads west out of town, past empty store fronts and the grey, rundown post office in the opposite direction of the pool hall and puts Ainsworth Nebraska in his rear view mirror.<\/p>


The road unspools under the hum of the car’s tires and Dean rolls down the window to catch the warm air of late summer on his face. It’s overcast but not raining and he wends through back roads bracketed by corn stalks until he sees small fencepost signs for Marie’s Farmhouse Restaurant and Pie shop and follows them until he finds the place itself. A weathered barn sits just behind a bright yellow house with red and white checkered curtains in the windows and a wide, flower bedecked front porch. There are more cars parked out front than he would have expected for a place this out of the way but it’s a good sign as to the quality of the food. He grabs a battered road atlas from the glove box and stifles a groan as the smell of cooking hits his nose as he climbs the steps. The screen door squeaks as he pushes it open and a few faces turn his way but most are too engrossed in food and conversation to pay him any mind. The tables are all full but a waitress refilling water glasses catches his eye.<\/p>


“Have a seat on the porch, hon,” she says with a smile. “I’ll have a table for you in just a few minutes.”<\/p>


Dean nods and takes a seat in a rocking chair, sinking into the soft cushion and watching a flock of chickens busily going about their chicken business in the hard packed dirt of the parking lot. The door does creak open again in just a matter of minutes but it’s just the waitress delivering a glass of lemonade to tide him over while he waits.<\/p>


“Looks good,” he says, giving her his best cheeky grin. “But I’d rather have a beer.”<\/p>


She smiles at him and raises an eyebrow. “Sweetie, you are not old enough to be ordering beer, or I’m turning in my mom card.”<\/p>


Dean’s got to admit she’s got him there, though at eighteen he has a perfectly good fake ID attesting that he’s twenty-one. Works well enough on dive bartenders who really don’t give a damn, but mom waitresses never even let him get it out of his wallet.<\/p>


His smile becomes more natural as he shrugs. “Worth a try,” he says. “Lemonade sounds great, thank you.”<\/p>


“Good.” She puts hands the glass to Dean and holds the door for two men in jeans and t-shirts to come out. “Give me five minutes to clear their table and then come on in. My name’s Susan if you need anything.”<\/p>


Dean empties the glass in a few deep gulps, the tart, cold liquid refreshing as it slides down his throat. It may be the best lemonade he’s ever had and he hopes they have free refills. He taps the folded atlas against his hand, deciding that travel plans will go better on a full stomach, watches the chickens for a few more minutes and heads inside.<\/p>


The menu is small but full of things he loves and he settles on fried chicken with fries and corn on the cob. The refills are indeed free and he drains glass after glass of the frosty liquid. The chicken is picked clean to the bone and the corn to the cob before he runs the last fry through the ketchup and sits back with a barely stifled burp. He looks around for Susan to order dessert, but she’s got a few new customers needing her attention so he flips open the atlas and tries to plan what he’s going to do with the few days he’s got before heading to Pastor Jim’s. It’s less then a day’s drive from where he is now, but it’s only Monday. Sam’s been in Blue Earth, studying Latin and comparative religion and playing soccer for almost a month but he’s going to want every last minute there he can get. Bobby’s isn’t far either but Dean’s got the car and some money and he’s itching to just get in the Impala and drive somewhere new.<\/p>


“You ready for dessert, hon?” Susan’s standing by the table, pitcher of lemonade in her hand.<\/p>


Dean hold up a hand and shakes his head at the lemonade. “No, thank you, I’m about to float away. But I’ll have a slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream, please.”<\/p>


“Best pie in the county,” Susan says. “Made by yours truly.” She leans over to look at the atlas. “Planning a trip?”<\/p>


“Yeah.” Dean considers making something up. Nobody needs to know your business is one of the main Winchester rules. Screw it this time. He’s not on a hunt and he’s not sticking around here. “My dad’s on a business trip and he left me the car to pick my brother up on Saturday. In Minnesota. So, I’ve got transportation and I’ve got a little time and I just want to…”<\/p>


“Road trip?” Susan looks over her shoulder and waves at the young man behind the counter. “Marcus? Could you bring over a slice of apple pie a la mode?” Marcus nods his assent and Susan turns her attention back to Dean. “My youngest did this last year. He had all summer though, and went cross country. Doesn’t seem like you’ve got that kind of time. Any idea where you want to go?”<\/p>


Dean’s been across the country from east to west and north to south but never on his own and never with time to just stop and see things. Vegas is high on his list but it would eat up time to get there and if he lost his money, his father would kill him. As it is, he’s planning on spending just enough to enjoy himself while still putting the bulk aside for emergencies. “I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon,” he says wistfully. “But I don’t think I’d have the time for that.”<\/p>


“How about Yellowstone?” Dean’s got the atlas open to the map of the US and she taps at Wyoming. “It’s right next door and it’s got a sort of Grand Canyon of its own. Not close to the same, of course, but still pretty impressive. And it’s got Old Faithful if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”<\/p>


“That’s the uh, water that shoots up out of the ground, right?” Dean vaguely remembers a kid in his junior high science fair doing a project on it. It had seemed pretty cool and he’d wanted to see it for real at the time.<\/p>


“That’s the one! They’ve got other geysers too that are pretty impressive. Even if you’ve only got a day or two you can see a lot of nifty things. Not to mention the wildlife. Have you traveled much?”<\/p>


“All the time for my dad’s work.” Susan steps back as Marcus deposits a large slab of pie with a mound of vanilla ice cream on top in front of Dean. Dean tips his head back to give the waiter a big grin. “Thank you, man.”<\/p>


“No prob,” Marcus says heading back to the counter. “Enjoy.”<\/p>


“But we didn’t see much other than from the car window or what was near a motel.” Dean takes a big bite of pie and moans a little as it smacks up against his taste buds. “This is amazing. My uncle Bobby took us to the Badlands once and taught us how to track, though. That was fun.”<\/p>


“Well, maybe you can brush up on your tracking while you’re there. Plenty of animals around.” A call comes from a nearby table for more water and Susan pats Dean on the shoulder and puts his check on the table. “You have a good trip, where ever you end up, sweetie.”<\/p>


“I will, thanks!” Dean swallows down the last of the pie and drains what’s left of his lemonade to the bottom of the glass. He drops the money for the tab on the table along with an unusually generous tip for Susan and heads for the bathroom before he hits the road. When he comes out, Susan is standing by his cleared table, a fifty dollar bill in her hand.<\/p>


“You need change for this?”<\/p>


“Nope.” Dean goes back to the cheeky grin. “Great service, fabulous pie, good conversation and travel advice. You earned it.”<\/p>


“You sure, you won’t need it?”<\/p>


Dean huffs out a laugh and tells the truth again. “I had a really good night at the pool hall. I’m set for a bit.”<\/p>


Susan laughs in return and her gaze sweeps him from head to toe. “Bet they never see you coming.”<\/p>


“Not often.” Dean inclines his head as he turns to head out the door. “Thanks again.”<\/p>


“Drive safe,” she says and he gives her a wave as he heads down the steps. A few minutes more with the atlas and he’s headed toward the interstate and the Nebraska\/Wyoming state line.<\/p>


*<\/p>


By the time he crosses into Wyoming the sun is shining, the road is flat and smooth and he lets the Impala go, engine roaring as he presses down on the gas. The radio station is mostly static now so he reaches out blindly for a tape and pops it in. He can feel Sam’s eye roll from all the way in Blue Earth as Metallica blares out. “Driver picks the music,” he says, feeling a tiny pang that there’s no one there to object. It’s not like he hasn’t driven alone before, even long distance. He’s been sent to Bobby’s or Caleb’s more than once to pick up something his dad needed. He rolls his shoulders under his t-shirt and belts out the chorus to Master of Puppets while he drums on the wheel, wind rushing past his face as he speeds down the highway.<\/p>


It’s well past dark by the time he hits the outskirts of Casper and he almost pulls into the parking lot of the first dump motel he comes to. There’s a Best Western sign showing on the next block though. He’s never stayed in one but he’s sure it’s a step up from his usual lodgings so he wheels the Impala into their lot instead. The lobby is bright, with clean wallpaper and the young woman behind the desk is wearing a nametag that says Kristen so it’s already miles above the place he left this morning. He whistles when she tells him the room rate for the night. No wonder he’s never stayed here before. Even though for a one night stay Dad would use a fake card, he’d still be thrifty with it. He forks over the money and collects his key and a slip of paper that turns out to be a voucher for breakfast. This might not be such a bad deal after all.<\/p>


“The elevator is down the hall,” Kristen says, pointing over Dean’s shoulder. “You’re on the third floor, left out of the elevator, all the way to the end. Enjoy your stay!”<\/p>


“I intend to,” Dean says, shouldering his duffle and heading for the elevator. He stops by a wall of brochures and fishes a bunch out of the Yellowstone section and a couple of Casper night spots. Seems like there might be enough right here to keep him busy for a couple of days, but he knows he needs to experience things when he has the chance. Someday he’s going to make it to the Grand Canyon.<\/p>


The room is spotlessly clean and smells only of the lemony polish used on the furniture. The taps in the bathroom turn on and off without leaking and there’s not a hint of mold on the ceiling. He almost feels bad about laying down salt lines that someone’s going to have to vacuum up, but safety before cleanliness isn’t even really a decision. There’s a full size TV with a list of cable channels that he’s never even heard of so he plops down on the bed closest to the door and begins to channel surf. When he stumbles across a mummy movie marathon he kicks off his boots and settles in for the night, alternating his attention between the movie and his brochures. When he drifts off during a pivotal wolfman scene, the pillow cushioning his head is the thickest he’s ever had.<\/p>


He hits the road bright and early the next morning, stuffed full of pancakes and eggs, a few bagels spread with strawberry cream cheese from the buffet stuffed into his pockets. The was definitely the best hotel he’d ever stayed at. From what he got from the brochures there are a few hotels in Yellowstone, but he’s not sure he’d want to spend so much on them, even if he could get a room. One spot had small, basic cabin that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. That might work. And if he absolutely has to, he and the Impala can get a campsite. It’s still a drive to the park but the sky is a cloudless blue, the roads have been recently paved and the car rolls along like she’s on glass. Cassette after cassette gets popped into the player and Dean bellows along at the top of his lungs. He keeps just at the edge of the speed limit. No point in getting delayed by the cops. There’s a shading in the distance that clears into mountains as he gets closer, peaks white with exposed rock.<\/p>


It’s just after noon when he hits the east entrance to the park, joining a long line of cars and campers waiting to get through to the ticket booths. It’s a slow crawl and without the rush of the wind that speed brought the air is heavy and hot. He’d stocked his dad’s green cooler with beer and water a few towns back and since rangers and park police are plentiful he decides a nice cold water would be the way to go. There’s a pair of kids in cowboy hats waving at him through the rear window of the car in front of him and he gives them a wave back as well as aiming finger guns as they stage a mock gunfight. The creep and crawl of stop and go traffic sets his teeth on edge but there are miles and miles of roads in the park and they can’t all be covered in cars. Once he gets through here he’ll be fine. Forty-five minutes later he rolls up to the ticket kiosk and is greeted by a grizzled middle-aged man in a Smokey the Bear hat.<\/p>


“Welcome to Yellowstone,” the ranger says with a smile. “And that is a sweet car. Sixty-seven?”<\/p>


“Yes, sir.” Dean grins back at him. Anyone who can appreciate the Impala is a good guy no matter what kind of stupid hat he wears.<\/p>


“First time visiting us?”<\/p>


“Yep. Had a few days to kill and decided to come see the sights.”<\/p>


“Well, we got plenty of those. Are you staying in the park?”<\/p>


“Hoping to. I don’t have any firm plans yet.”<\/p>


“Well, let me see. There’s a few cabins left at Yellowstone Lake and some campsites at Fishing bridge. You should probably head straight there to get it settled before you travel around. It’ll be twenty dollars for a weeklong pass. If you end up staying out of the park the pass will get you right back in again.”<\/p>


“Twenty bucks for a week? Damn.” Dean hands over a twenty dollar bill and takes the pass and a couple of maps from the ranger. “Can’t beat that.”<\/p>


“I agree. Okay, now head on in and follow the signs for the lake. It’s about an hour drive. Obey the speed limit, be careful driving after dark and don’t go denting that beauty on any buffalo.”<\/p>


“No, sir, I sure won’t.” Dean gives a wave and heads off into the park. The road curves and the buildings disappear behind him and all he sees are waving grasslands, trees and mountains. He does drive slowly, though it goes against every fiber of his being. There are creatures everywhere here, small and large and he wants to give them the wide berth and consideration he hopes they give him. The traffic spreads out as the cars head various different directions and within a few miles the road is far less congested. There are birds flitting everywhere back and forth in front of him and he never thought he’d be a guy that paid birds any mind but he finds himself following their flight path and trying to single them out for their bright colors. When a hawk starts circling overhead he wants to pull over and watch it hunt but the need to get a place to stay for the night wins out and he continues on sure he’ll get a chance to see one again.<\/p>


*<\/p>


The lake is large and as Dean drives the road overlooking the shore he watches what looks like little plumes of smoke rising from various spots near the water. From his reading he knows it’s just steam rising from tiny geysers or hot springs but it’s still a little creepy. He’d seen something similar when hunting spirits in a swamp in Alabama once and he’s half tempted to get closer to the spots of steam to check them out just to be sure. He laughs and shakes his head at himself. Nope. He’s on vacation here and unless something jumps out to pull him in, he’s definitely not hunting.<\/p>


The lodge parking lot is half empty when he pulls in. The building is one story with a wide porch across the front. People in rocking chairs line the porch, enjoying a view of the lake and Dean can see small cabins spread among the trees on the hill behind the lodge. With luck one will be his home for the next few nights.<\/p>


There’s a cafeteria inside and a fireplace surrounded by couches and chairs. A shelf holds stacks of board games and Dean wishes Sam were here so they could have a competitive game of Parcheesi. If Sam wasn’t at Pastor Jim’s though, neither of them would be here. They’d be sitting in a moldy hotel room in Nebraska while Dad took the car to go hunt with Caleb. Maybe he and Sam will be able to get back here some day, but he’s not going to count on it.<\/p>


It turns out there is one cabin left for the next three nights and he manages to snag it. It had been rented but when the couple found out there was no TV anywhere in the park they decided to head back to civilization to stay.<\/p>


“No TV?” Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “Anywhere?”
“No TV,” the woman behind the counter replies with a smile. “Anywhere. You can play games or the piano or sit on the porch and chat in the evenings. Every night there’s a bonfire and ranger program in the little amphitheater near the cabins. In the daytime you should be out seeing things. You can watch TV at home.<\/p>


Dean can’t argue with that so he doesn’t. He takes his key and goes to sit on the porch for a bit to eat his bagels. The air is fresh and smells of pine and the cushion of the rocker is thick and comfortable. There’s a squirrel yelling at something in the trees across the road and he doesn’t remember when he last felt this relaxed. The pain in his side has receded, barely noticeable if he doesn’t stress it. The sun is warm on his face and he half dozes and makes plans until dusk approaches and it’s time to go in for dinner.<\/p>


After a meal of spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and chocolate cake, he heads up the hill to check out his cabin. It’s small - two beds, a nightstand with a lamp between them and a dresser against the far wall. The bathroom is tiny with a sink, toilet and small corrugated tin shower that would be a tight squeeze for anyone bigger than him. Still, it’s a palace compared to some of the places he’s stayed. Before it gets full dark he heads back down to the car to collect a flashlight, his duffle and the cooler. Light and laugher stream from the doors and windows of the lodge and he decides to hang out for a bit. There are books and magazines on the shelf with the games so he grabs a Car and Driver that’s only a few months old and plonks himself down in an armchair in the corner to read. The room fills up and Dean watches from his corner as couples and families gather around the tables for games. Weapons are strictly prohibited in the park, he’s seen the signs everywhere. Still he’s got a few surprises tucked away in case any of the innocent looking tourists turn out to be monsters. He’s not expecting it, not really. But he’s also not not<\/i> expecting it. Around eight-thirty people start to head out for the bonfire and Dean tags along.<\/p>


A short walk down a dark path lit only by flashlight beams leads to a fire brightly crackling in a clearing. Benches set in rows surround the fire and Dean takes the last seat available, next to a girl of about six and her family. She looks up at him with concern on her small face.<\/p>


“Do you think they’ll tell ghost stories?” Her voice drops to a whisper at the last two words.<\/p>


“I don’t know,” Dean says. “Will you be scared if they do?”<\/p>


“Maybe a little,” she confides.<\/p>


“Carrie, you know there’s no such thing as ghosts,” her mother says, putting an arm around her shoulders.<\/p>


“Yes,” she says in a small voice. “But…”<\/p>


Dean looks down at her with a smile. “Carrie, you’ve got your mom and dad on that side and me on this side. No ghosts are going to get you.”<\/p>


“No ghosts?”<\/p>


“No ghosts.<\/p>


“Okay,” she says, seeming slightly reassured.<\/p>


As it turns out, no ghost stories are told. The rangers give the assembled tourists a talk about grizzly bear avoidance and what to do in the unfortunate circumstance you don’t avoid them and also spend some words on buffalo and elk. Dean wants nothing more than to give all of the animals a wide berth. He’s run into enough wildlife on hunts to realize this is not a petting zoo. A Native American ranger comes by next and begins to tell tales of her people. Dean listens closely and makes notes of the lore of tricksters and shamans and the spirits of the mountains. He glances down at Carrie from time to time to make sure it’s not too much for her, but she’s enraptured by the stories. Dean’s never run into a trickster but he’s seen shamans at work a time or two and he’s pretty sure the tales aren’t going into all the gory details that they could be. He trails the rest of the campers back up the path after the campfire is over, scanning the woods for whatever might come out of the dark. Back at the cabin he makes notes about the trickster lore, in case it’s something his dad doesn’t already know and drinks a beer on the cabin’s steps under the stars and calls it a night.<\/p>


In the morning, he doesn’t get up right away. There’s a slight chill in the air and the blankets are warm and there is nowhere he absolutely has to be. Eventually, the need for food and coffee drives him from under the covers. He braves the tiny shower and heads down to breakfast.<\/p>


The desk at the lodge has a schedule for Old Faithful’s expected eruptions and he grabs one as he heads out the door. It’s a drive to the geyser, because the park is freakin’ huge, but Dean thinks that’s a good thing. If everything was right on top of each other, all the people would be right on top of each other too. He’d seen buffalo from a distance on his way in yesterday so he takes it slow as he drives down the road. As he gets further from the wooded area around the lake and into the grasslands, more and more of the giant animals wander around the roadways. He stops the car once or twice as parts of the herd pass close by, rolling their eyes toward him as they travel just past the Impalas side mirrors. He’s faced down scarier creatures but the knowledge that a spell or salt blast won’t back these things off makes him extra, extra cautious. Two hours later, after carefully navigating a seeming sea of buffalo and then a herd of elk, he pulls into the Old Faithful parking lot.<\/p>


“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles when even off the road he’s not free from meandering animals the size of small cars. There’s not a parking spot available that doesn’t have a grazing buffalo or napping elk within what he considers charging distance. Still, there are tourists wandering around, some with small children and rangers who don’t seem to be panicking so he cautiously exits the impala and circles behind it sure that the variety of knives he’s got secreted throughout his clothing won’t be enough to save him if one views him as a threat. Most of the people wandering around, he will bet a tiny portion of what money he’s got left, aren’t armed at all. A petite, dark haired ranger catches his eye as she walks past and he trots to catch up with her.<\/p>


“Good morning,” he says, giving her his best smile.<\/p>


“Good morning,” she replies, looking at her watch. “Just barely. Time flies around here. Can I help you with something?”<\/p>


“Uh, yes. I’m here to see Old Faithful.”<\/p>


“Well, you’re in the right place.” She points to a sign a ways down the parking lot at the entrance to a boardwalk that circles the wide open space in front of them. “Head down to the left. See the benches with the people over there? That’s where you want to be.”<\/p>


“Thanks,” he says, slowly making his way down the pavement to the boardwalk. None of the animals pay him any mind as he sidles past them. There don’t seem to be any further down the walkway and he casts quick glances over his shoulder until he’s well out of range. The walkway disappears into the distance in both directions and he wanders off toward the left. There are little things scurrying through the grass as he walks by but all he can see is the waving of the stalks. The benches for the geyser viewing are about half full and he settles into a seat three rows back. There’s not much going on so he watches a pair of hawks circle high above until one dives down into the grass, emerging with something small and furry in its talons. He’s kicking himself for not grabbing the binoculars out of the trunk. Not to see a little furry thing become lunch, obviously, but to get a good look at their predators. Hunters are hunters and his father taught him to learn from everything.<\/p>


“First time?” There’s an elderly man sitting to Dean’s right, a wide brimmed straw hat shielding his wrinkled face.<\/p>


Dean nods. “I had a few days to kill and someone suggested I spend them here. How can you tell?”
“Just guessing. It’s my first time here myself.” He holds out a plastic container. “Chips Ahoy?” Dean reaches out to grab one and the man shakes the container at him. “Take a handful, son. I shouldn’t be having all this sugar anyway.”<\/p>


Dean takes a handful. “Thanks,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cookie. “So, when’s this show supposed to get started?”<\/p>


“Not sure.” The old man holds out a hand. “I’m Marty, by the way.”<\/p>


“Dean.” He takes the offered hand, careful with his grip, but Marty gives his hand one tight squeeze and lets him go. Just then there’s a bubbling sound and a hiss from the geyser and a wall of water shoots high into the air.<\/p>


“Wow!” Marty says, just as Dean lets out a “Holy shit.” Dean sneaks a look at the older man and his grin is delighted. It transitions to sad, just for a moment as he reaches out a hand on the opposite side of Dean but is straight back to joyous in a matter of seconds.<\/p>


“Isn’t this marvelous?” Marty asks and Dean can’t help but nod in agreement. He’s seen some pretty weird things but never something that didn’t have a skanky witch or some other supernatural bad guy behind it. This is real. It’s normal and natural and Dean’s got a pretty big grin on his face himself. They sit there, enrapt, with the rest of the audience until the jet of water begins to recede, finally disappearing back beneath the ground. The crowd around them begins to disperse but Marty remains on the bench and Dean doesn’t really have anyplace to be so he sits with him.<\/p>


“You traveling by yourself, Dean?”<\/p>


“For the moment,” Dean says with a shrug. “Usually I’m with my father and brother but we’ve gone our own way this week.<\/p>


“Me too. My wife and I planned to come here many times, but something always got in the way. She passed in May and I’m eighty-two now, so I figured I’d come see it and tell her all about it when I meet up with her again.<\/p>


“Meet up with her again?” Dean’s on alert, suddenly. Marty seems like a nice guy but having a dead wife that he meets up with sets him on edge.<\/p>


“Well, yeah. In heaven, I hope.<\/p>


“Oh. Yeah. Heaven. Well, I hope you see her again there too.” Dean in no way believes in God or heaven but Marty seems like a nice guy and if he wants to bank on a deity that cares more power to him.<\/p>


Marty reaches for a heavy walking cane and levers himself to his feet. “Well, I better get going. Even for this place, I’m a slow driver.” He holds out his hand again. “It was nice meeting you, Dean.”<\/p>


“You too.” Dean shakes his hand and Marty nods.<\/p>


“It’s good that you got here, now. Let me tell you, don’t wait to go places and see things. You may never get there.”<\/p>


Dean watches him walk away and shakes his head. The good luck of the pool winnings, Sam being at Pastor Jim’s and his dad going with Caleb to hunt isn’t something that he’s counting on happening again. He’s tried to do things with Sam- local fairs, a science museum or two, but trips of a lifetime? Not something he’s sure they’ll ever get to.<\/p>


The afternoon is still young and Dean gets his binoculars from the car and spends the rest of it wandering the boardwalk. More geysers erupt along his path, none as spectacular as the first, but still pretty impressive nonetheless. From across the plateau he sees Old Faithful go up again and the different perspective makes it seem even more awesome. He spends some time staring at bubbling mud pots, thinking that they’re just the sort of thing that something straight from hell would come crawling out of. Near one is the skull and shoulder of a buffalo calf, picked clean by scavengers. Probably. Could have been a creature from hell too. Watching the kids running around and the laughing parents, Dean’s struck by just how strange it is for him to be here. Not for a hunt, not to kill anything or protect someone, but just to see new things. He’s determined to enjoy it while it lasts.<\/p>


The time goes quickly and before Dean knows it it’s late afternoon. He’s been sitting on a fallen log, scanning the distance with the binoculars but all he’s seen are rabbits, something that looks like a groundhog but probably isn’t and a pair of circling vultures. He makes his way back to the parking lot and grabs an ice cream at the stand before heading back to his lodgings. Leaning on the Impala’s warm hood while he licks the cone clean he sees Old Faithful go up one final time. He watches the whole thing, committing it to memory before he gets in the car and heads out.<\/p>


The drive back is just as slow and perilous as the drive out. The animals own the roads here and they know it. Dean doesn’t mind. Having the Impala to himself, guiding her along their path feels like nirvana to him right now. About halfway back, passing through a grassy area bordered by trees, he stops behind a line of cars pulled off to the side of the road.<\/p>


“Hey, what’s going on,” Dean calls to one of the bystanders.<\/p>


“Wolves,” the woman replies, gesturing to the hillside across the road. “Up by the trees.”<\/p>


Dean pulls out his binoculars and scans the area. And there they are. Six in the pack, gamboling their way along the tree line. His breath catches at the graceful, purposeful way they move, even in play. It’s all practice for hunting, he knows. In some lives everything is practice for hunting. He and Sam have been watching nature programs ever since his brother learned there were other channels than those showing cartoons and monster movies,- and he’s learned lots from them whether he wanted to or not. They lope effortlessly across the grass, until, one by one, they disappear into the trees. They don’t give the watching crowd a moment of their attention and Dean gives a tiny salute as the last brushy tail disappears into the underbrush. “Good hunting,” he wishes them.<\/p>


*<\/p>


After dinner, pleasantly stuffed with rainbow trout and roasted potatoes, Dean sits on the porch digesting. He decides to forgo the campfire tonight and watch the skies instead. It’s too light on the porch so he moves to the parking lot, stretching out along the Impala’s hood, back resting against her windshield. The stars are brilliant against a pitch black sky and he entertains himself by sorting out the constellations. Sam has a small star guide that he scored in a third grade gift swap and it’s something he’s made sure is in his duffle whenever they move. Dean spots the dippers and Orion and the great bear but he’s a little fuzzy on the others without his little brother lounging beside him, finger tracing the twinkling lights in the sky. A meteor shoots across the heavens and buns out. Dean thinks about making a wish. Wants to. But he doesn’t. They never come true anyway.<\/p>


Clouds are building against the bright night and a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Lightning flashes across the lake, across the forests, still far away but on its way. Dean heads for the cabin ahead of the first raindrops and the storm rumbles through in the middle of the night, barely disturbing his slumber.<\/p>


*<\/p>


The drive to the canyon is another slow, visually stunning trip. Dean pulls over twice; once to watch a moose and her calf grazing in a marsh and a second time to allow a pair of foxes to trot down the road in safety until they made their way off into the tall grass. The storm came and went overnight and the sky is again blue and sunny. The grasslands eventually give way to the canyon, a vast, rocky scar across the land off to his left as he drives. Following the traffic, he pulls onto a one way road to the canyon’s overlook spots. The road gives good views of the top of the canyon, rich and dark with color, but not down inside so when a sign come up for a waterfall he pulls into the parking lot. He follows more signs to a trail that leads to a sturdy concrete platform overlooking raging whitewater charging over a waterfall that has to be three hundred feet high. Dean grips the railing until his knuckles whiten, staring at the roiling water, unrelenting in its violence. There are people further down on a platform even closer to the falls and he sets his feet carefully, determined not to slip on the steep, rocky trail as he slowly makes his way down. The lower platform is so close to the water Dean can feel the spray on his face and the roar of its passing drowns out anything but shouts. The speed the water rushes over the edge is terrifying and he wonders how far upstream you’d have to go to ford the river safely. At the bottom of the falls the water swirls and splashes at is calms marginally, flowing along the canyon, endlessly wearing down the earth beneath it.<\/p>


Dean’s got his binoculars around his neck and he scans the walls of the canyon, the sky and the water. Birds of prey soar overhead and smaller birds swoop and whirl and they flit in and out of the stony outcrops. There are tiny bird identifier books in the lodge gift shop and against every fiber of his being, Dean thinks he might get one to keep tucked away in his duffle like Sam has his star guide. Just downstream from the falls the body of an elk lies entangled among the rocks. He looks at the water again and imagines being caught up in it, carried unstoppably to your death, unable to escape and with full knowledge of your plight. A sudden chill makes him shiver and with one last look around he makes his way back to the top and away from the rushing water.<\/p>


The next stop is at a viewing point downstream, far enough away that the dangerously rushing river looks like a postcard image, quiet and unthreatening, just water falling. There’s no roar, no sense of menace and Dean leans on the rail, thinking about how many people don’t see things how they really are, lulled into a false sense of security about the world they live in. He stands there for a good long while, lost in unusually serious thoughts before shaking it off and heading on his way. The canyon is impressive and the chance to get so close to the falls will stick with him for a while. But the Grand Canyon is still his goal and he’s going to get there eventually, hopefully with Sam in tow.<\/p>


It’s his last day in the park so he takes a roundabout route back to the lake. The diversity of the landscape has him pulling over often in grasslands cropped short by the buffalo and elk and forested areas with thick with trees. He sits for a while watching a mother black bear herd her two cubs across the road and up a hill until they disappear into the woods. He even goes so far as to leave the car at a trailhead and walk a short, looping path around a pond. As the wind cools his face and sunlight sparkles on the water Dean shakes his head and huffs a laugh.<\/p>


“Good thing I’m headed back to civilization tomorrow or I might forget how much I hate camping and live out here like Grizzly Adams,” he says to a frog sitting beside the trail. “Probably should be on my way.”<\/p>


*<\/p>


The bonfire program that night is on owls and as Dean sits on his bench he mentally replays the time one swooped down over his head in the moon brightened night, startling him so much he missed the shot he was about to take. If his father hadn’t been right behind him, his life would have ended at seventeen. Death by black dog and owl. Sure enough, the program gets around to owls in lore and their association with death. Dean’s not as enchanted as the rest of the crowd by the mimicking of the different hoots and the stories about habitat. Owls are bad news and nothing will change his mind.”<\/p>


It’s dark and quiet when he finally turns in and then, in the distance, high pitched yips and yowls waft along the wind. Could be coyotes but he’s going to insist on it being wolves. Tomorrow he’s got to head back out, a last few days on the road with just him and the Impala, crossing Wyoming, through Nebraska and into Minnesota on Saturday. He hopes his dad doesn’t call so he and Sam can stay at a nice hotel for a few days. Maybe they can finally hit the planetarium in St. Paul. Dean thinks of Sam’s well worn star guide and grins. He’s got a miniature bird guide stuffed in the pocket of his duffle now, he can match Sam geek book for geek book. Rolling over and curling up in his blanket he lets the hunters of Yellowstone sing him to sleep.

<\/p><\/a>

<\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:tifaching:218132","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/218132.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/tifaching.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=218132"}}],"title":"What They See","published":"2020-05-26T16:25:06Z","updated":"2020-05-27T00:16:07Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"porn"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"hurt!dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"rape"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dark!fic"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"lucifer"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"torture"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"post-hell issues"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"angst"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"nc\/17"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam"}}],"content":"Title: What They See
Pairing: Lucifer\/Dean
Rating: N\/C 17
Genre:Slash
Word Count: 1985
Warning: Non-con, rape, emotional abuse, violence
A\/N:  Written for Masquerade last year for this prompt :

Lucifer just wants to understand what makes this puny human tick. Why did his Father warm up to him enough to entrust His precious planet to him? What makes him fit to contain Lucifer’s archenemy of a brother? And most of all, how did Lucifer’s true vessel ever overcome his possession by just looking at him?<\/div>