The Truth In The Lie: Day Seven

Title: The Truth In The Lie: Day Seven
Rating: PG this chapter, NC-17 overall.
Word count: 5,726/63,000 (this chapter/total)
A/N: Main header and notes: here.

Prologue, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day Six, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day Ten, Day Eleven (Part One, Part Two), Epilogue.

****

Sam slept badly that night, lying awake for hours while Dean softly snored next to him. When he did finally manage to drop off, he woke up several times with a start, but didn't really remember his dreams - only enough to know that they'd been unsettling. He was up nearly an hour before Dean, half-heartedly flicking through the few books they'd brought in case something jumped out at him about the hunt. Dean didn't say anything about Sam already being up and dressed, but Sam could see his forehead crease slightly with concern.

At breakfast, the people who had gone kayaking were complaining good-naturedly about aching muscles and stiff joints. Dean was annoyingly smug that they hadn't gone, and gave the table a diatribe about the pointlessness of vehicles without engines.

"It's about listening to the beauty of nature in silence," said Paul eventually, "It wouldn't be the same with an engine." Dean just blinked at him as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

"Dean's more about listening to the beauty of engines," explained Sam.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Give me a properly tuned V8 over birdsong any day." Sam was about to retort when Dean's hand casually covered his where it was resting on the table, and somehow he lost his train of thought. Bet he did that on purpose, he thought, trying not to twitch his fingers beneath the weight of it.

Dean left his hand there for the rest of the meal, only letting go when he stood up to get some more coffee.

"Anyone else want some?" he asked, which Sam thought was weirdly polite for him until he remembered they still had a couple people left to test with holy water. The only one who took Dean up on his offer was Brian, and Sam saw a look of frustration flit across Dean's face as he turned towards the table with the coffee pot on it.

****

They had to sit for nearly half an hour on the bus before they left, waiting for Paul and Ray. When they eventually came out, clothes slightly dishevelled as if they'd been thrown on in a hurry, even though they'd been dressed fine at breakfast, there was a ragged cheer.

They jumped on the bus and Brian started driving before they'd even sat down. "Next stop: Louisbourg," he announced. "Next chance for nookie not until Antigonish this evening, unless you get really creative."

"And absolutely no sex on the bus,” said Gerald firmly. “No matter how desperate anyone gets.”

****

It was a couple of hours on the bus before they got to Louisbourg, and Sam felt himself drifting off a couple of times on the way. He jerked himself awake each time, not wanting to spend another day with aching muscles from sleeping on the bus.

By the time they got off the bus, he could feel a headache starting to form just behind his eyes, and Dean was giving him the less-subtle version of his concerned look.

"You okay?" he asked as they got out in the parking lot.

"Yeah," said Sam, "just a headache." Dean's look didn't fade - they both knew how bad Sam's headaches sometimes got, even when he hadn't had a vision. "It's fine," Sam reassured him, "I just didn't sleep very well."

That made the crease in Dean's forehead ease slightly - Sam sleeping badly was commonplace now.

"All right, folks," announced Gerald, and Sam turned away to listen. "This is the fortress of Louisbourg. Well," he said glancing round at the modern building behind him, "This is the Reception Center of the fortress of Louisbourg. There's a free shuttle bus up to the fort, when you're done with reading about the history here. We're going to be here for a couple of hours, so if you don't want to stay with the group, just make sure you're back here at one. We'll drive down to the village for lunch then."

As the group began to wander in the direction of the entrance, Dean grabbed Sam's wrist. "You up for this? We could just walk down to the village and have coffee instead?"

Sam glanced at the Reception Centre, where he could see a man dressed in historical costume greeting people. "No, I'm good," he said. "Besides, they've got guys in costume. I wouldn't want you to miss out on that."

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't protest as they headed after the rest of the group. He didn't let go of Sam's wrist either.

****

The fort was interesting, and there were more guides in costume once they got inside, as well as historically accurate food to sample, but Sam found himself not really able to concentrate as the pressure in his head grew. It was just starting to hover behind his eyes - not exactly bad yet, but with the potential to turn into something much worse. He did his best to ignore it and hoped it would just go away.

"Who do we still need to slip some holy water?" he asked Dean quietly as they stood in the bakery, chewing on some really tough soldier's bread that Gerald had bought for them to try.

"Andrew and James," replied Dean. They were standing to one side and talking quietly, but James turned to look at them as if he'd heard his name.

Dean took his chance, and grinned at him. "This stuff is pretty rank, huh?" he said, taking out his flask. "Want some water to wash it down?"

James smiled back. "It's pretty hard," he admitted, taking the flask from Dean. "Thanks." Sam held his breath for a moment, but James swallowed it down without any sign of discomfort.

Dean was trying to hide a scowl as he took the flask back. He exchanged a meaningful look with Sam, then they both flicked their eyes over to where Andrew was standing, chatting to Brian.

****

"You'll have to do it," Dean said to him later, as they were being shown around the Governor's Apartments.

"I'd prefer not to have to talk to him," said Sam, not needing to ask what Dean meant. "He might take it the wrong way, and I really don't want to have to fend him off again."

"Yeah," said Dean with a little shrug, "Well, I, uh, think I made a bit of an impression. I'm not sure he'll come within three feet of me."

Sam groaned. "What did you do?" he asked with a sinking sense of resignation.

"Would have looked weird if I didn't have a word with him, warn him off you," said Dean defensively.

"Godamnit, Dean," said Sam tiredly, unable to even summon the level of indignation he knew he should be feeling. The longer they spent on the road together, the more Sam got used to Dean's over-protective big brother thing, and the less he found himself minding about it. He wondered if maybe that was a sign that they'd spent too much time living in each other's pockets.

"I only talked to him," stated Dean firmly as they moved into the next room, both of them ignoring the historically accurate furnishings. "And it wasn't anything he didn't deserve to hear."

"So now he thinks you're a psycho," said Sam, who'd heard Dean's version of a verbal warning before.

"Possibly," admitted Dean. "But that gives you an in, right? You can apologise for me, make it clear he's got no hope, and slip it in his drink at the same time."

Sam could feel his headache beginning to really pound against his temples. "Yeah," he sighed.

****

He managed it at lunchtime. They drove back down to the village and found a sandwich shop to grab a quick lunch in before the long drive to Antigonish. Sam slid into the line behind Andrew and tried to think of a way to start up conversation.

His mind pulled a blank, his thoughts sluggish through the pain in his head, so he settled for a generic, "How's it going?"

Andrew started slightly, clearly surprised that Sam was speaking to him, then his gaze flicked over to where Dean was sitting. Sam thought he could detect a trace of fear in his eyes. "Okay," Andrew replied slowly.

Sam winced internally. Whatever Dean had said to him had clearly left a lasting impression. "Look," he started, but Andrew interrupted him.

"You don't have to warn me off," he said. "I got the message." He turned back to where the server was waiting to take his order. "Chicken salad sandwich," he ordered, "and an espresso."

"I wasn't going to warn you off," said Sam. Andrew's snort told him that he wasn't entirely convincing. "I figure whatever Dean said to you would be enough for that," he added.

Andrew gritted his teeth, still not looking at Sam. The server handed Andrew his coffee then turned away to fix his sandwich. Sam felt for the holy water in his pocket and carefully took the lid off, one-handed, wondering how he was going to distract Andrew's attention from his cup long enough to add it.

"Dean can go over-the-top sometimes when he's being protective," he said, trying to make it sound like an apology.

"That's an understatement," muttered Andrew, pulling out his wallet.

"He's not very subtle," admitted Sam.

Andrew was silent for a moment, and Sam was already trying to think of other conversational gambits when he replied. "Maybe not about that, but I think he hides how strongly he feels about you quite well. I'd never have made a move on you if I'd realised you two were that close - I'm not that much of a sleaze."

Sam suppressed his disbelief at that statement but he had enough experience with emotionally shut-off people to know an attempt at an apology when he heard one. "He keeps his emotions close to his chest," he said instead, feeling slightly guilty about discussing Dean's personality quirks with someone like Andrew.

"Yeah," agreed Andrew, taking his sandwich from the server. He hesitated as he handed over a twenty, then added, "Once you know what to look for, though, you can see just how deep it runs. You're lucky to have someone who loves you that much." His eyes flicked over to where Charlie was sitting with Gerald, talking animatedly. Sam took his chance and tipped holy water into Andrew's coffee, managing to get the bottle back in his pocket just as Andrew turned back for his change.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, not sure how else to respond to that.

Andrew picked up his coffee and sandwich. "I still think he's a jerk though," he added, then walked away, heading over to Charlie and Gerald's table.

Maybe, but he's my jerk, though Sam, then frowned slightly to himself. Not actually going out with him, he reminded himself, just as the server asked, "What can I get you?"

****

"Did you do it?" Dean asked excitedly, before Sam had even had a chance to sit down with lunch.

Sam nodded and slumped into the seat opposite him, setting the tray down on the table. Dean's gaze wandered over to where Andrew was sitting, and Sam followed his eyes. They both tensed as Andrew raised his coffee and took a sip. When he had no reaction, Sam sighed and wrapped his hands around his own mug.

Dean slapped the table in frustration. "Godamnit," he swore. "What do we do now?"

Sam shrugged. Dean frowned at him for a brief moment, then his eyes took in the single plate on the table. "You not eating?" he asked.

"Not hungry," said Sam. His headache hadn't responded to his attempts to ignore it, and had now reached the point where he just wanted to curl up somewhere dark and go to sleep. He leaned his head against the window and shut his eyes to block out Dean's worried look.

"Wait here," said Dean, standing up. "Drink your coffee."

Sam didn't have the energy to question him and did as he was told, only half-watching as Dean headed over to Brian.

What were they going to do now? This hunt was fast becoming impossible. Maybe they should just go the 'Ronald' route and take everyone hostage until the monster revealed himself. That would give Dean the chance to work out some of his frustration by playing the crazed sociopath, at any rate.

When Dean came back, he was jingling the keys to the bus. "Finished your coffee?"

Sam drained the last of it. "We going for a joyride?" he asked.

Dean snorted. "Not in that bus. Come on," he said, jerking his head towards the door.

Sam frowned. "What about your lunch?"

"I'm coming back for it," said Dean, which wasn't really an explanation, but Sam couldn't be bothered to interrogate him any further. He just put his cup down and got up to follow Dean. Dean put his hand on the small of Sam's back and kept it there while they walked out to the bus. Sam tried not to relax back against it too much.

Dean opened the bus up with the keys Brian had given him, and gestured Sam to climb on board. Sam, who had been half-expecting Dean to open up the back so that they could go through people's stuff, frowned.

"Come on, Sammy," said Dean. "You think I don't know what it means when you look like a day-old corpse? You need to sleep this off, so we're calling dibs on the back seat, where you can stretch your stupidly long legs out."

Sam glanced into the bus, and had to admit to himself that it sounded like a good idea. Dean disappeared around to the back before Sam could reply, so he just climbed on board and followed Dean's orders, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the back seat.

Dean joined him a few minutes later, bringing one of Sam's hoodies for him to use as a pillow and the pack of painkillers.

"Okay," he said once Sam had taken a couple of the pills, "You sleep, I'm going to eat my lunch."

"Okay," agreed Sam, letting his eyes slide shut against the light in relief. There was a quiet pause before he heard Dean leave the bus and shut the door. Once he was alone, and the pills had started to kick in, he dropped off as easily as if he was in the Impala's passenger seat.

****

He only half woke up when the others got back on the bus, opening his eyes when Dean picked up his feet and slid into the seat beneath them. Dean noticed his look, and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Go back to sleep," he said, patting Sam's ankle, and Sam did, falling into unconsciousness before the engine had even started.

****

When he next woke up, the bus was empty and parked in what looked like a small, slightly tourist-tacky village. He sat up carefully, not wanting to aggravate his still-aching head. He could see a small café nearby and spotted Dean through the window, sitting at a table with Paul and Ray. He was debating whether or not he had the energy to go over and join them when Dean glanced over at the bus and caught his eye. He stood up, said something to the others, and a moment later came out of the café door.

"Thank god you're awake," he greeted Sam as he climbed into the bus. "Much more of listening to those two, and I think I'd have gone mad."

"They are a bit much," agreed Sam, stretching. His muscles felt slightly cramped, but no worse than he was used to from sleeping in the Impala.

"You feeling better?" asked Dean, sitting sideways on the seat in front of Sam.

"A little," said Sam, ignoring the way his head still hurt and his eyes felt strained even in the low light inside the bus. "Where are we?"

"Iona," said Dean. "You're not missing much. You want to go in for a drink?" he asked, nodding back at the café.

Sam looked over at it, and could see Paul and Ray watching them through the window. He grimaced slightly. "Not sure I'm up to listening to them calling each other pet names."

Dean snorted. "I'm not sure anyone is," he said. He grinned slyly. "Although, if we want to make our charade convincing, maybe I should be calling you my 'most precious cupcake.'"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I think we've already got them all convinced," he said.

The grin fell off Dean's face, and he looked away. "Yeah," he said shortly.

Sam was definitely not up to dealing with Dean's attitude about the situation. He lay back against the window with a sigh.

Dean glanced at him with a slight frown, and pulled the painkillers out of his pocket. "Take a couple more of these, then go back to sleep," he advised. "We're nearly done here anyway, then we're driving down to Antigonish for the night, so you won't be missing much."

"Okay," agreed Sam, and a few minutes later he was sliding back into sleep.

****

The next time he woke up, he was feeling too relaxed to open his eyes or even to move for a few moments, although he could hear Dean saying his name.

"Maybe you should kiss him awake, like Sleeping Beauty," suggested an amused British voice.

Dean snorted, and Sam felt a hand on his arm, gently rubbing. "Sammy, time to wake up."

Sam blinked his eyes slowly open. "Dean," he said tiredly. "You might have given me too many painkillers."

Dean grinned. "Or maybe you're just lazy."

"Yeah," said Sam, sitting up and yawning.

"I bet he'd be fully awake if you'd kissed him," teased Jerry again.

Dean's face went blank, and Sam was certain for a moment that he was going to take Jerry's suggestion seriously, then he grimaced slightly and stepped back. "We're at the hotel," he said to Sam. "You only have to wake up enough to get up to the room, then you can go back to sleep."

"No, it's okay," said Sam, coming fully back to himself in the wake of the anticipation that Dean would kiss him. "I'm awake now - if I go back to sleep, I won't sleep later."

"So you'll come to the pub with us tonight?" asked Thomas. "We're having dinner at the hotel, then going to one near the university that Gerald knows."

Sam looked at Dean, trying to gauge the correct answer, but Dean kept his face neutral, and in the end Sam agreed. "Yeah, I guess we are." After all, they wouldn't learn anything new about the case alone in their room.

"Excellent," said Thomas, sounding pleased.

****

They walked to the bar. Dean muttered bitterly most of the way there about how much he missed his car. Sam just nodded in tired agreement, and tried to ignore how comforting Dean's hand felt, warm against his back. Dean seemed to have decided that his 'best boyfriend ever' act should include a great deal of casual touching and Sam had to banish the thought of I'm going to miss this when the hunt is over into the corner of his mind, along with his realisation that the only thing he'd felt when he'd thought Dean might kiss him earlier was a sense of anticipation, and none of the revulsion that he should be feeling. This charade's just messing with your mind, he reminded himself as they went into the bar. Besides, it's not like touching really means anything.

Dean got the first round, and Charlie distracted Sam from his thoughts by asking if he was feeling better.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," he replied with a smile.

"I can't believe you managed to sleep for that long on the bus. If I'd tried it, I'd have been jolting awake every few seconds."

Sam shrugged. "I get really tired when I have a migraine," he said, deciding not to mention that he'd spent most of his life sleeping in moving vehicles, with music playing just loud enough to invade his dreams.

"Do you get them often?" asked Andrew, and Sam felt Dean come up behind him, standing closer to him than was necessary to give him his beer.

Sam shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing. "Sometimes." Dean's arm found its way around his waist.

Andrew frowned slightly. "You ever been to a doctor about them?"

"No need," said Dean before Sam could reply. "They're just stress-related."

Andrew looked at him as if he was an idiot. "What's so stressful about being on vacation?" Sam could practically hear Dean gritting his teeth. "Look, I'm just saying," continued Andrew, looking back at Sam and ignoring Dean's glare, "maybe you should go see someone when you get home. They could well be just stress, but headaches that serious shouldn't just be glossed over."

Sam barely see Dean's face out of the corner of his eye, but whatever expression he was giving Andrew was enough to make him grimace slightly, shake his head as if giving up, and walk away.

Charlie gave a half-shrug. "Maybe you should listen to him," he said. "He's a pretty good doctor." He didn't need to add 'even if he's a crap boyfriend' for Sam to hear it.

"Maybe," he said, non-committally, and changed the subject.

****

They left the bar early. The others were settling in for a long night drinking and Sam wasn't really in the mood for that, even if Dean's over-protective hovering had let up long enough for him to join in. Apart from anything else, he'd probably taken too many painkillers that day to really drink much alcohol, and if they both stayed reasonably sober, maybe they'd be able to come up with another plan for the hunt.

They walked in silence after they'd left the bar and Sam was relieved that Dean hadn't decided to start bitching about their lack of a car again.

It was maybe five minutes before Dean spoke. "Maybe Andrew's right."

Sam blinked in surprise at a phrase he'd never thought he'd hear Dean say. "What?"

"Maybe you should go see a doctor," said Dean, eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

Sam snorted. "And say what? 'Hey, Doc, I get headaches that are somehow related to my demonic death visions. Should I be worried?' Be about five minutes before they cart me off to the psychiatric ward." Dean's mouth twisted downward. "It's nothing," Sam reassured him. "They're just headaches."

"Could be something," said Dean doggedly. "We shouldn't just assume that they're from that."

Sam sighed, mentally thanking Andrew for stirring Dean's concerned-older-brother tendencies up. "I've been having them for years," he pointed out, "And they're not getting any worse or anything. They're just stress, Dean, it's nothing." He paused, then added, "I used to get milder ones sometimes at Stanford, during exam week."

Dean gritted his teeth, then let out a deep breath. "Yeah, okay," he said, grudgingly, giving in. "I guess this whole thing has been pretty stressful."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I hate hunts where we can't get a solid lead, and just have to wait for the monster to make a move."

"Yeah," said Dean slowly, dragging the word out to two syllables, "but I actually meant the whole gay charade thing."

Sam blinked. "Oh, yeah. That too."

Before Dean could reply, there was a loud, scared yell from the wooded park that they were walking next to. They were both already running before Sam had time to process that the cry had sounded like Jerry. There was another shout and what sounded like a growl as they ran into the park, pulling their guns out as they got closer to the commotion.

"Thomas!" yelled Jerry as Sam pushed past the last couple of trees. Jerry was clinging to a branch several yards up a tree, reaching down towards Thomas, who was struggling to climb higher towards him. Below him snapped the bear-like monster, standing on its hind legs in a disturbingly man-like manner and reaching for Thomas's dangling leg with long claws.

Sam fired wildly, trying to at least distract the creature even if he couldn't hit it and give Thomas the chance to pull himself up out of reach. Dean fired a moment after him, and the creature dropped back down on to all-fours and snarled at them. Satisfied that Thomas was temporarily out of danger, Sam took the time to aim properly, hoping to get it in the heart.

There was a loud roar from behind him before he could fire, and Dean shouted, "Sammy!" and tackled him to the ground just as another of the creatures leaped at where Sam had been standing.

"Jesus fuck!" swore Dean, firing wildly at the second monster. Sam bit back his own swear words and turned his own gun back on the first creature without getting up from the ground, unwilling to waste the time.

Both creatures were moving too fast though, and they took off into the woods without either Sam or Dean getting a hit in.

"Fuck," swore Dean again as he climbed to his feet.

"Yeah," agreed Sam tersely, taking the hand Dean offered him and pulling himself up.

"Oh god, oh Christ," babbled Jerry from the tree. "You saved us. Again."

Dean snorted, and went to help Thomas climb back out of the tree. "Yeah, how about cutting down on the night-time walks?"

"We thought we'd be safe from bears in a park in the middle of town," said Thomas.

"Especially not two!" said Jerry, sounding shocked as he climbed down behind Thomas. "I thought bears were loner animals."

Sam exchanged a tired, resigned look with Dean. As tempting as it was to let Jerry and Thomas keep kidding themselves, the fact that they'd been attacked twice now probably wasn't a coincidence. If Sam and Dean had to keep an eye on them from now on, it would be easier if they at least half knew why. "Maybe they weren't bears," he suggested, turning back to keep an eye on the woods, in case they came back.

Jerry looked away from his anxious checking-over of Thomas for injuries just long enough to frown at Sam. "What else could they have been?"

Dean shrugged. "We're not sure yet, but that's twice they've come after you guys. You should probably be a careful for the rest of the trip, stick closer to me and Sam."

Thomas narrowed his eyes, and his gaze flicked from Dean's gun to Sam's. "Who are you two, exactly?"

Dean hesitated, then said, "We hunt things like that," nodding in the direction that the creatures had disappeared in.

"What?" gasped Jerry with wide eyes.

"Look," said Sam, taking one last look at the woods, then tucking his gun away and spreading his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. "Guys who've been on this tour have been being killed for a few years now. We're just trying to stop it."

Dean glanced warily at the woods. "We should get out of here, back to the hotel."

Sam nodded his agreement, but Thomas was too busy processing what had happened to listen. "Wait, you think that they're after me and Jerry specifically?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "It's not likely to be a coincidence."

"And you can tell yourselves what you want," added Dean, "But those weren't like any bears I've ever seen."

Thomas rubbed his hand over his face, then looked at Jerry, who was gazing at the trees around them with fear in his eyes. Thomas put an arm around him comfortingly.

"Okay," he said, "let's go back to the hotel. But don't think that you're off the hook - you have some serious explaining to do."

Sam suppressed a sigh and exchanged another look with Dean. This hunt just got worse and worse.

****

They got back to the hotel without being attacked by anything else, only to be cornered by Paul and Ray as they crossed the lobby.

Ray took one look at their dishevelled, dirt-streaked appearances and his eyes widened almost comically. "Whoa, did you guys have an orgy in the park?"

Sam restrained a groan.

"More to the point," added Paul, "Did you guys have an orgy in the park without us?"

Dean frowned. "Don't you have to have more than four people for it to technically be an orgy?"

"All the more reason for you to have invited us," said Paul firmly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We didn't have an orgy."

"Sadly," added Dean. Sam glared at him.

"If we did have one, though," said Jerry, "We'd definitely invite you guys. In fact, we'd probably invite everyone except Victor and Marcus."

"And Brian," said Thomas.

Sam frowned at him. "Why not Brian?"

Thomas looked at Sam as if he was an idiot. "He's completely straight. I'm not sure he'd appreciate the invite."

Sam blinked. "Brian's straight?"

"Jesus, Sammy," said Dean, shaking his head slightly, "How are you always so oblivious to these things?"

"He's probably too busy wondering when the mood's next going to take you, and leave him picking leaves out of his hair," said Paul. Sam tried to run his hand through his hair surreptitiously, and was only a little surprised to find a leaf in it. Why the hell hadn't Dean mentioned it earlier? He glared at his brother, only to be met by a smug look. Bastard.

"Speaking of the mood..." said Ray, tugging Paul towards the elevators, "We did come back early for a reason."

"Ooh, yeah," said Paul, seeming to complete forget that the others existed, and allowing himself to be led off. As soon as they were gone, Thomas levelled a look at them that demanded answers.

Sam sighed. "Better go to our room," he said, looking at Dean. Dean looked unhappy, but nodded his agreement.

****

It was more than a little awkward when they let Thomas and Jerry into their room. Sam found himself glancing anxiously around at their stuff, in case there was some sign that he and Dean weren't lovers.

As soon as the door was shut, Dean pulled out his gun and started to reload it, which Sam had half been expecting - Dad had worked hard to drill 'reload the first chance you get' into them both - but which made both Thomas and Jerry tense up even more.

"Look," said Sam, trying to sound like a normal person. Or, at least, more normal than Dean. "There's not much to explain. Something's been killing guys who were on this tour, so Dean and I are here to stop it."

Thomas snorted. "I think we're gonna need a bit more detail than that, especially if it's after us."

"Yeah," agreed Jerry. "Why should we believe you? Surely if this was true, Gerald or Brian would have mentioned something when we first got attacked."

"Unless it is Gerald and Brian," muttered Dean, too quietly for the others to hear. Sam kicked his shin.

"They didn't die on the tour," he explained. "They died afterwards, when they were back home. I can show you the articles, if you want."

Jerry paled. "So, these things are going to follow us back home?"

"Unlikely, with the Atlantic in the way," said Dean. "Maybe that's why they've come after you now rather than waiting. Either way, it doesn't matter," he added, closing the chamber of his gun with an audible click, "because me and Sammy are going to waste the fuckers." He held his hand out for Sam's gun to reload, and Sam passed it to him.

"Why us?" Jerry asked. "Why are they coming after us rather than the others?"

"We don't know," Sam admitted.

"And you don't know what they are, either," clarified Thomas. "Just that they're not bears."

"Not yet," Sam said with a shrug.

"Well, what the bloody hell do you know?" asked Thomas, frustration colouring his voice.

"We know how to kill them," said Dean firmly, handing Sam's gun back. "We're not going to let anything happen to you."

"Christ," said Jerry, sinking down onto the bed. "This is...this is ridiculous. You sure you're not taking the piss?" Thomas sat down beside him and put an arm around him, pulling him close to his chest.

"Sorry," said Sam. He hesitated, trying to find words to reassure them. "Dean and I...this is what we do. We're really good at it - we'll get these things, and then the whole thing will just be a bad dream."

"You should go to bed," said Dean, not unsympathetically. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

Thomas nodded and they left, Jerry still clinging close to Thomas. Sam shut the door behind them and then sank down onto the bed where they had been sitting. "This really sucks," he complained.

"You're telling me," grumbled Dean. "I can't believe that there's two of those bastards."

"Yeah," sighed Sam. "I guess it makes sense though - would be hard to hide that you're running off to rip people up from your boyfriend."

Dean took off his shirt, and headed for the bathroom. "This hunt just keeps getting better and better," he said, sarcastically.

****

They went to bed and turned out the light, both of them carefully maintaining the gap between them that Sam knew would disappear as soon as Dean fell asleep. There was silence for a few moments, then Dean spoke quietly into the dark.

"Did you mean what you said earlier? About us being good at this?"

"Yeah," said Sam, surprised.

"Huh," said Dean, and then was quiet.

"Well, I can't think of any other hunters around who can beat our successes," said Sam, trying to justify himself.

Dean snorted. "Or our fuck ups."

Sam shrugged, even though Dean couldn't see it in the dark. "Yeah, well, we only fuck up when it's ourselves on the line," he said tiredly.

Dean grunted in agreement, and didn't say anything else.

****

Day Eight

Not my photo - stolen from the Louisbourg website.

*

Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

growyourwings.livejournal.com

I haven't read this chapter yet. But I wanted to let you know that I've been reading these daily and to thank you for this story and for the regular, daily posts. Given the news of the past couple of days...this is been a welcome moment of enjoyment in my mornings.

From:

The Sinners Have Much More Fun

The Truth In The Lie: Day Seven

Navigation

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags