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"One Toe Over the Line" chapter four
Page Title

For the first five minutes Sam stood by the small table.
For the next five minutes Sam paced an area between the dresser and the first bed and back.

“I can handle myself.”Sam muttered out loud as he grabbed his jacket, pocketing the room key and cell phone.

He’d been in enough scrapes with Dean paranormal and otherwise to know how to take somebody down.

Sam just couldn’t stay there and wait. With or without MacLeod, there had to be a way for him to help Dean.

Sam cautiously opened the door and once deciding the coast was clear stepped out into the hall.


Duncan ducked a swipe of the Immortal’s sword as he moved to the right side of the alley.

“Are you that determined to die today?”Duncan asked as he reluctantly drew his sword holding it loosely in one hand.

“I didn’t plan on it.”The Immortal replied and swung once more.

Duncan blocked the blow with his own sword wondering when this day was going to get easier.


Sam hesitated outside the hotel. The parking lot was empty except for MacLeod’s car and a Harley parked near the back of the lot.

Sam looked at the car trying to clear his head enough to come up with a plan. It was then Sam felt the uncomfortable warning sensation again.

He wasn’t sure why he was helping MacLeod. But instincts were telling Sam that if he wanted to get back to Dean, he had to cooperate with MacLeod.

Sam took a few steps to the left and noticed the sensation didn’t fade. He took that as a sign that MacLeod and the other person must be near.

Then he heard a sound over the traffic of the nearby interstate. It took Sam a minute to identify the sound.

Metal clanging against metal.

Sam moved toward the edge of the building.


Dean didn’t remember the drive back to the inn. He pulled into the driveway and shut the engine off. Dean left the keys in the ignition and leaned his head back against the seat.

Dean fished out his cell phone from his pocket and glanced half heartedly at the display.

No messages.
Absolutely nothing from his father.
Dean just couldn’t understand why there had been no contact.

Sam was dead.

That had to mean something to his father.

Or Dean had been completely wrong about the man and he just couldn’t believe that.

Not after everything.

With a shaky sigh Dean got out of the car and walked slowly into the bed and breakfast.


Sam peaked into the alley. Part of him hadn’t believed MacLeod about the swords but now Sam had proof in front of him.

Two men engaged in a full fledged sword fight.

MacLeod had his back to the entrance of the alley so he hadn’t seen Sam yet. Though Sam was sure both sensed him.

Sam glanced around hoping for some kind of weapon anything to help give MacLeod a little leverage.

Finally Sam spotted a metal trashcan across the alley from him. The lid looked like it could do some damage if force was used. But in order to get to it Sam would have to cross in front of the alley in full view of the other guy.

Deciding it was worth the risk Sam dove for the other side.
Sam grabbed the lid off the can and looked back at the fight. MacLeod had spun the other guy back toward the front of the alley.

Sam inched forward the lid gripped tightly in his hand.

Sam raised the lid so it was facing forward. Just as it was inches from the guy’s head, the Immortal spun shoving Duncan out of the way and pushing Sam up against the opposite wall. The Immortal shoved Sam into the wall with such force that his head cracked against the brick causing his vision to blur briefly.

It happened so fast that the only thing Sam was able to do was drop the garbage can lid. He couldn’t raise his hands up to defend himself, nothing. There had been no way he could even have gotten a punch in.

The Immortal stepped back far enough so the point of his sword was at the base of Sam’s neck just above the adam’s apple. Sam swallowed hard struggling to control his breathing. He didn’t like the look in the guy’s eyes, not at all.

“MacLeod, I take it you didn’t tell the young one about the non-interference rule?”

Duncan stood at the left of the younger Immortal his sword raised so it was above the other’s neck. “Let him go. This is between you and me.”

The black haired biker shook his head as he pressed the point of his sword a little harder into Sam’s neck. “The young one broke the second rule, MacLeod.”

Mac tightened his grip on his sword. “A rule he didn’t know. He was trying to help me.”

“I could get two heads for the price of one today.”The Immortal replied gleefully as he non-too-gently moved the point of his sword from the front of Sam’s neck to the right side drawing blood along the way.

Sam winced at the pain and as he felt the blood trickle down his gaze flew to MacLeod.

/Enough of this./Duncan thought as he saw Sam’s frightened expression.

Duncan rammed his right shoulder into the other Immortal’s left. The younger man was completely knocked off his feet sending him sprawling to the alley floor.

The biker’s grip on his sword slipped and Duncan was able to knock it away before the other man could grab it.

The Immortal had time to scramble to his knees.

Just as he was reaching for his sword Duncan brought his down.

Sam moved his feet just in time to get out of the way of the head as it fell. Struggling to keep his breakfast in his stomach, Sam ran toward the back of the alley keeping to the protection of the walls.

Turning around Sam looked back in time to see Duncan drop to his knees next to the other man’s body. Sam took a step toward MacLeod when the alley was suddenly filled with the most intense energy he’d ever felt.

As Sam took a step back he could only watch in horror as blue energy bolts began to form from the dead Immortal’s body.

The energy in the alley grew pushing Sam back against the back wall.

Sam blinked against the brightness as the energy bolts suddenly swarmed on MacLeod and slammed into his torso. At the same time the bolts were also causing havoc in the alley with a ricochet effect.

Bricks splintered and broke right out of the walls. The trash cans seemed to lift off the ground by themselves and slam into the opposite wall. An overhead light at the entrance of the alley exploded.

Sam crouched into the corner turning his back to the terrifying scene. He shielded his head with his hands as he ducked down.

The last image he had of Duncan was the man’s body convulsing as the bolts continued to pound into him.


After what seemed like an eternity the noise stopped and the energy in the alley dissipated Sam cautiously turned to face MacLeod and the man MacLeod’d just killed.

Sam rocked back on his heels. MacLeod looked like he’d just run the Boston marathon and gone through a prize fight with Delayoa at the same time. His arms hung limply at his sides barely holding a grip on the sword.

Sam’s gaze flew to the sword and the blood dripping from the tip. His exhausted mind wasn’t comprehending anything.

Kneeling next to Sam, Duncan extended his free hand towards the youth. The Quickening had worn him out as they always did. Usually he slept for a day or two afterwards. Time to recharge, orientate his thoughts.

But now he had Sam to take care of.

“Come on, Sam.”Duncan urged gently as he reached for the younger Winchester’s arm. “It’s all right…. it’s over.”

Climbing unevenly to his feet Sam shook off Duncan‘s light grip. He walked a few feet away from the wall. “What was that?”

“Something I didn’t want you to see yet.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”Sam snapped tired already of having his world turned upside down.

Duncan nodded as he walked toward the beheaded body. He stopped next to it. “What you saw is called a Quickening. It’s a transfer of the deceased life energy. I’ll explain more to you later, right now we need to leave.”

“Leave?”Sam repeated as he joined MacLeod. “What about……the body?”

“The Watchers will help take care of it.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “Watchers? As in Giles?”


“Never mind.”Sam replied with a wave of his hand. He had a feeling MacLeod didn’t watch much tv.

“Here.”Duncan said as he picked up the dead biker’s sword and tossed it to Sam.

Automatically Sam reached to grab the handle causing the sword to bounce off his hand and hit the ground.

“I don’t…..”

“Sam, just trust me and take the sword.”

Reluctantly Sam picked up the unfamiliar weapon and followed Duncan out of the alley.


After an hour of staring at the ceiling Dean finally pulled Sam’s laptop from it’s case near the nightstand. As he lifted the lid and turned it on Dean’s fingers loving traced across the keyboard. He couldn’t help but remember many a long night of research with Sam hunched over the computer fingers flying.

Logging onto the internet Dean checked his email for lack of anything else to do. He was half hoping there would be a message from his father. Anything to tell him that John had gotten the news on Sam.

Instead his inbox was full of condolences.

Apparently the one friend of Sam’s at Stanford that Dean had been able to reach had spread the news. There had to be close to thirty messages all with similar subject lines. Each message was similar, conveying shock, sadness, asking for funeral details.

Dean slammed the computer closed nearly tearing the screen from it’s hinges. He shoved it aside.


The words were like knives to Dean’s heart. He didn’t want people’s sympathy.
He wanted his brother.

Dean’d give anything in the world to have his brother back, but he knew deals like that didn’t exist.

Pulling his knees up to his chest Dean rested his forehead against them and closed his eyes.


After a lengthy call to Joe, Sam and Duncan returned to the motel room to gather the rest of their things.
As Sam moved to place the sword in the trunk with the rest of the bags Duncan gave a curt shake of his head and pointed at the ages old weapon

“That stays with you at all times, Sam.”

Hesitantly, Sam lifted the cumbersome weapon from the trunk. Closing the trunk with slightly more force than needed, he headed for the passenger side of the Mustang as Duncan opened the driver’s side door.

“You guys couldn’t come up with a more cumbersome weapon, could you?”

Despite his weariness MacLeod grinned. “Guess we always could use an axe.”

Sam rolled his eyes wondering not for the first or last time how he got stuck in this twilight zone. “Funny.”

Duncan chuckled as he sat down and closed the door putting the key in the ignition. “I’d put it under the seat for now.”

Sam slid the sword under his seat and sat back up repositioning the seatbelt. “I think the hotel a mile or so down the interstate had a vacancy sign.”

Duncan steeled himself for an argument. He hated breaking promises but sometimes it was necessary. “We’re leaving Iowa.”

Sam turned in his seat so fast the seatbelt nearly strangled him. He pushed the neck strap down as he said. “You promised me seventy-two hours. It hasn’t even been a day!”

“I’m sorry Sam.”MacLeod replied quietly as he backed the mustang out of the parking spot and pulled out onto the road.

Sam shook his head furiously. “No! A deal’s a deal.”

“I made that promise prematurely.”

“Is this because I broke a rule?”Sam asked remembering the biker’s words.

Duncan shook his head. “You didn’t know.”

“So why?”Sam asked not letting go. He had to see Dean.

“I didn’t expect our friend to show up.”MacLeod replied quietly. “Others won’t be far behind.”

“I’ll take the risk.”


“I need to make sure my brother’s okay.”Sam stated suddenly becoming all too aware of MacLeod’s earlier statement of leaving everything and everyone behind. It hadn’t really hit him until now. Sam desperately needed contact with his brother even if it was only by sight.

“Did you sleep through what happened in the alley?”Duncan asked as he glanced at Sam.

“Of course not.”

“These fights you can’t back out of, Sam. Once someone challenges you, it’s their head or yours. You’re not prepared enough.”

“So show me some basic moves.”Sam urged. “Show me enough to protect myself.”

Duncan stared at the cars ahead. He could hear Richie so clearly in Sam’s words.

“Sam, you don’t…..”

“I’m not leaving until I make sure my brother is alright.”Sam stated firmly. “Dean doesn’t have anybody.”

“One day.”Duncan offered.


“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.”Sam replied tiredly as he leaned back against the seat.

“Where was that hotel?”Duncan asked as he passed a slow moving car.

“Mile out of town.”

“Okay. We’ll sleep the rest of the day and then we’ll go into McGregor and grab some dinner. Then I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

“Alright.”Sam replied quietly He wasn’t sure what to believe any more but he certainly couldn’t dismiss what he saw and experienced in the alley.

That had been all too real.


By the time the sun set Dean couldn’t stand to be at the inn any longer. He desperately wanted to be on the road, but he couldn’t do that yet.

Not until Sam was taken care of.

Thoughts of the forthcoming funeral flooded Dean’s grief filled mind as his body moved numbly from the bed. Laying to rest his baby brother, he scoffed at himself for the thought.

It wasn’t right.
Burying his one responsibility in this world was more than just not right, it was unnatural.

Shoving the thoughts to a back corner in his mind, Dean moved to the chair near the dresser where he’d tossed his jacket. Picking up the jacket, he put it on and seized the car keys.

He needed to forget and there was one way to do that.

Dean stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.


When Sam awoke the room was dark. He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand it was almost six. Sam moved into a sitting position and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Just as his hand left his face Sam let it travel down his neck. He traced his finger along the line where the biker had cut.

There was no sign of a wound.

Sam got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. He closed the door and flipped on the light. Sam went over to the sink and looked in the mirror.

His hand went to the spot on his neck again where he knew the sword had broken skin.

There was no mark at all.
No redness.
No bruising.

Sam shook his head and leaned his hands against the sink. It was going to take him awhile to get used to the healing thing.

Hell, it was going to take him awhile to get used to this new world.

Especially without Dean to talk to.

Sam sighed as he stepped away from the sink. He had no idea how he was going to get through tonight. He didn’t know how he was going to see Dean without talking to him.

But if it was the only option, Sam would find a way to deal with it.

Sam turned the water on in the shower and stripped out of the clothes. As the hot water beat down on him Sam knew he still had to come up with a way to keep his brother out of jail.

He needed a plan and for that he needed to get his thoughts together.

No matter how hard that seemed to be lately.


Parking the Impala in a small parking lot off a park, Dean got out and locked it. He started making his way--somewhat blindly--along C street that ran along the Mississippi. Pausing for a moment, Dean gave a glance at a restored steamboat and a near by casino boat.

He could hear music playing but couldn’t tell which one it was coming from. Too faint to make out what kind.

Dean took a step forward then shook his head. He pivoted on his heel and walked toward fourth street where he crossed over to Main.

Casino boats had crowds and that was one thing Dean didn’t want right now.

He needed a good drink and those places sometimes didn’t have them.

At least not in the dosage he needed right now.

River towns always had a good hole-in-the-wall type bar.

There had to be one here somewhere.


Half an hour later Duncan and Sam were driving south down highway seventy-six toward McGregor. Sam stared out the passenger window he still hadn’t come up with a plan.

The only thing he could come up with was walking in the door of the police station and there were many reasons why that wouldn’t work.

Duncan rolled his neck struggling to get the kinks out. He hadn’t slept very well.

He could not be sure if it was because of the Quickening or the responsibility of having a new student, a difficult new student.

He had failed Richie in the worst way. Under influence or not Duncan had still failed him.

Duncan had to find a way to protect Sam.

From other immortals and from Duncan’s own demons.

“Do you want to start at where you were staying?”Duncan asked as they entered the city limits.

Sam shook his head as he tore his gaze away from the window. Something about going back to the inn left him cold. “No.”

“Okay.”Duncan replied understanding Sam’s reluctance to return to the scene of his death. “What kind of car does your brother have?”

At the thought of the Impala a fleeting smile crossed Sam’s face. “1967 Chevy Impala, black.”

Duncan did a double take at Sam. “Fully restored?”


“Nice.”Duncan said admiringly.

“His pride and joy.”

“I bet.”Duncan commented as he made a right turn. “Well, there can’t be too many of those around here. So, we’ll drive by the inn first and see if he’s there. If he’s not we’ll drive around, there can’t be too many places where he’d be.”

“Alright.”Sam acknowledged not thrilled about seeing the inn again. Duncan’s one day deadline was constantly in the forefront of Sam’s mind. He was running out of time and ideas of a way to help his brother.

There had to be a way, he just wasn’t seeing it.


Sam shifted to a more comfortable position as MacLeod drove through the streets of McGregor. He felt like he was on a really bad police stake-out.

All they needed was the cold coffee and stale doughnuts.

Duncan glanced over at the youth. “If you’re worried about Dean going to jail, don’t be.”

“You saw the same newspaper I did. He’s the only suspect the cops have.”

“Yes, pending autopsy results.”Duncan pointed out as he made a left turn onto C street. “You’re forgetting you’re here, Sam.”

Sam blinked that was one thing he hadn’t thought of until now. If he was here who was in the morgue in his place?

“Who’s in my place?”Sam asked his voice trembling slightly. Images flashed through his mind of Dean having to claim him from the morgue.

“Nothing for you to worry about. Just know we have ways to fix things. He won’t spend any time in jail.”

“These watchers you mentioned? They put somebody in my place?”

Duncan heard the strain in Sam’s voice. “Sam, try to relax. Nobody was killed for that purpose. Somebody else died around the same time that was close enough to your age and description to get past the medical examiner.”

Sam ran a hand through his short hair. “You have any idea how weird this is?”

Duncan grinned. “Yes, but you’re used to weird.”

“Not this weird.”

“There’s the car.”Duncan exclaimed as he spotted the Impala in a parking lot off a park.

Sam leaned forward anxiously scanning the surrounding sidewalks for any sign of his brother. Finally he spotted a familiar leather jacket.

“And there’s Dean.”Sam replied as he pointed his sibling out to MacLeod. Dean was walking across the street his head bowed, his hands shoved deep in jacket pockets’.

Duncan pulled around the elder Winchester and turned into the nearest parking lot and killed the lights.

Sam immediately reached for the door and gripped the handle to open it.

Duncan gripped Sam’s left arm tightly. “Sam…..”

Sam sighed and let go of the door handle. He turned his gaze to the street just in time to see his brother disappear into a building.


In a tiny alley a few blocks down from the casino boat Dean found what he was looking for. The door to the bar was tucked just inside the alley.

There was no sign stating the watering hole’s name, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care where he was as long as what they served did it’s job and made him numb to the world.

There were only three patrons at this early hour besides the bartender. Two men and a woman. The interior was no bigger than a large coffee shop. No dance floor, no pool tables, no dart boards. Just a dusty solid oak bar running along the left wall with eight stools. Along the right wall was a spattering of tables that looked like they had been exposed to the elements at one point. The surfaces were warped and scared The table legs were splintered and peeling.
An aging jukebox in the left corner was blaring Bon Jovi’s ‘Have a Nice Day’.

Walking up to the middle of the bar, Dean caught the bartender’s attention and slapped down a couple twenty’s.

“What’s your poison?”She shouted to be heard over the music. Tucking a stray red hair behind her ear she moved toward the new customer.

Dean shrugged his usual smile refusing to make it’s way to his lips. “Whiskey, and keep it coming.”

“Sure thing,”She said slipping the money from the counter as she ducked down. Wrapping her slim fingers around a short bottle with a black label, she pulled it up and set it on the counter. Grabbing a shot glass from the back of the bar, she poured the amber liquid into the glass. Stopping just shy of the midway point of the glass, she slid it over to Dean.

With a curt nod, Dean snatched up the glass. Closing his eyes he downed the shot. It wasn’t enough. The burn wasn’t there.

Slamming the shot glass down on the counter he looked at the older woman, “Got a bigger glass?”

“That I do,”She replied tightly, grabbing a larger square glass from the back counter. Setting it in front of Dean she filled just below the halfway point.

Once again grabbing the glass up, Dean poured the amber liquid down his throat--relishing the burning sensation it left in it’s wake as it went down. Setting the newly emptied glass back on the bar he waited for her to fill it again.


Saint Joseph, Missouri

John Winchester sat at the back table near a full length window of an internet café; a disposable cell phone sitting on the table to his right.

He stared at the desktop computer screen in front of him not truly believing what he was reading.

Ever since he had heard Dean’s message he’d been reading whatever he could on Sam.

Unshed tears made John’s eyes burn as he looked at a web page for an Iowa paper. After hours of research the only thing he’d been able to find is that the police were ruling Sam’s death as suspicious pending results of an autopsy.

Swallowing hard John leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He had tried so hard to protect them.

Dean had promised he’d protect Sam, why hadn’t he?

John opened his eyes and angrily swiped at the tears that had escaped. Doing the research was the only thing keeping him from hitting the nearest bar and drowning himself.

John glanced at the cell phone. He reached for it then let his hand fall. He knew he should contact his eldest son.
His sole surviving son.
But he couldn’t.

John turned and looked out the window at the busy street.

After everything he couldn’t believe Sam was gone.

Why his son and not him?
Why his wife and not him?
Why destroy his family and leave him to suffer alone?


Thirty minutes later Dean left the empty glass on the bar and motioned for the bartender. She left the far end of the bar and walked toward him. Once at the center of the bar she reached underneath for the whiskey bottle and looked at Dean quizzically.

“That’s your fifth in half an hour. You sure you want another?”

“Give me the bottle.”Dean replied sliding the glass out of the way. It teetered on the back edge of the counter but didn’t fall.

“Alright.”The bartender replied as she set the half full bottle next to Dean. She’d been in this business long enough to know when somebody wanted to get dead drunk and when somebody wanted someone to tell them to stop. This was clearly the former.

Dean nodded a thank you and made a grab for the bottle. His fingers brushed the neck and missed. Frustrated he made another attempt and got a firmer grip. Satisfied, Dean pushed himself away from the bar and moved over toward one of the tables.

He moved one of the chairs out and sat down taking a sip of the whiskey along the way. Carefully, Dean set the bottle on the table and moved the chair closer.

With nothing else to look at Dean’s attention drifted to the jukebox. It was currently playing The Rolling Stones though Dean’s liquor hazed mind couldn’t identify the song.

Dean took another swallow from the bottle as unwanted memories invaded his thoughts. He didn’t want to think of Sam, that’s why he was here.

To numb everything.
But the whiskey wasn’t having the desired affect.

/Must not be enough./Dean thought wryly as he took another large swallow.

Still the memories came.
Memories of the Asylum.

‘Because you always do what he says without question. Are you that desperate for his approval?’

Sam’s angry words echoed and Dean closed his eyes trying to block them. He could still see the gun in his brother’s hand.

‘I’m not pathetic like you.’

Dean took another gulp of the whiskey as he remembered Sam pulling the trigger of the pistol. Part of him had wondered how much that had been Ellicot’s influence.

After they had left Rockford they hadn’t talked about what happened in the basement. Short of Sam apologizing again halfway to the Wisconsin border.

The rest of the drive that day had been in tense silence.

Dean raised the bottle to his lips once more and saw there was only about a shot glass full of liquid left. Dean downed what was left. As he set the bottle down on the table with a loud clatter Dean noticed that the crowd in the bar had grown. Where there had been only three when he came there was now close to twenty.

Shrugging Dean grabbed the empty bottle as he stood. He wavered slightly on his feet for several seconds before he orientated himself. Once turned in the right direction Dean staggered back to the bar.


Sam angrily shook off Duncan’s protective grip. He leaned so far forward in his seat that his head nearly touched the bottom of the sun visor.

Duncan settled back in the driver’s seat though his gaze never wavered from Sam and from their surroundings.

“Hate to break it to you, Sam, but you didn’t gain X-ray vision.”Duncan stated. “You won’t be able to see through that brick wall no matter how hard you stare at it.”

“Think it’s a restaurant?”Sam asked ignoring the quib. There was nothing on the outside of the building to identify what was inside. There was a furniture store across the alley and a bakery two doors down to the right and a Karate studio in-between.


“How do you know it’s not?”Sam asked quietly forcing himself to remember that storming out of the car would not get him any closer to his brother. Though what little he had seen of Dean did not reassure him.

“Experience.”MacLeod replied. “There are only a few things located inside an alley of a river town; tattoo parlors, bars and nightclubs. I don’t think your brother is looking for a new tattoo or a dance partner.”

“I’ve been where he is, Sam.”Duncan continued softly. “When you lose somebody close you want to forget by any means possible. Anything to numb the pain. For some, it’s to get as drunk as you can.”

Sam hunched forward worriedly his hands resting against the dashboard. He’d seen Dean when he drank. There had been a few incidents before Sam had left for Stanford where Dean had gotten so drunk that he had passed out in pool halls and bars and Sam would have to pick him up when the owner called.

“Sam, relax.”Duncan ordered gently.”We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“I’m going in there.”Sam stated as he moved back from the dashboard.

“We’ve talked about this, Sam.”

“You only gave me a day.”Sam countered. “I’m not going to be able to fix anything if I’m stuck out here.”

“You go into a place that small and he’ll see you.”

“If he gets as drunk as I think he will, Dean won’t remember seeing me.”

“Can’t risk it, Sam.”

Sam sighed and returned to his vigil resting his hands against the dashboard.


Second bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand Dean walked back to his seat tripping a few times not quite getting one foot in front of the other. A few splotches of precious liquid spilled along the way.

Sitting down awkwardly Dean ran a finger along the rim of the bottle.

His brain was starting to get fuzzy, thinking was becoming more and more difficult. Simple commands to his limbs were not being obeyed.

Dean smiled as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a swallow.
No thoughts, just what he wanted.
No thoughts, no memories.

A raised voice made it’s way through the fog that covered Dean’s mind. At first he was going to ignore it. But as he took another gulp of the whiskey he saw that the raised voice was coming from the bartender.

Dean tilted his head and his vision blurred slightly. He blinked and looked again at the bar. There were five men who by the way they were dressed appeared to be dockhands. They were attempting to persuade the bartender to dance and from the looks of it she wanted nothing to do with it.

Dean took another swallow from the bottle and continued to watch. The bartender made a grab for the phone on the wall just as one of the men made his way behind the bar towards her.

With a weary sigh Dean reluctantly pushed the bottle aside.

He rose to his feet, nearly toppling himself. Dean sloppily grabbed at the table’s edge to support himself. Once the room and his head stopped spinning Dean headed toward the bar bumping into a few chairs along the way.

Coming up behind the nearest dockhand, Dean tapped the large man on the shoulder.

“Excuseme,”he said loudly slurring his words as he spoke. “Think the lady wants to be left alone.”

The bartender moved closer to the phone as the men turned their attention on Dean.

“All we wanted was a dance.”A thirtish brown haired man who was built like a linebacker said as he stepped away from the bar.

“And I told you.”The bartender replied tersely. “That fraternizing with customers is against policy.”

“Policies change.”The linebacker said with a grin as he reached around and grabbed her arm dragging her forward.

Annoyance and anger pushed through the whiskey induced fog of his mind as he balled his hand into a tight fist and swung at the nearest dockhand. Pounding the hell outta something after successfully drinking away unwanted memories was the Winchester way.

The man before him saw the movement long before Dean made his move, and he ducked causing Dean to miss his mark by a long mile. Had he been sober, not only would’ve he not have missed but his legs would’ve been able to hold him up. But missing his mark allowed his upper body to swing hard and fast toward the bar. Shooting a misaimed arm out he managed to catch himself as the rest of his body worked to stop the momentum. The man he’d tried to strike stood near by, a gleeful smile on his rugged face.

“Drunk wants a fight, huh?”The man Dean had taken a swing at drawled as he grabbed Dean by the shirt collar hauling him backwards.


Sam settled back in his seat and tiredly rubbed a hand over his eyes. The strain of the day was starting to have an affect. Hell, it’d been a long six months the last couple probably worse than the first. Though nothing could be worse than losing Jess but not being any closer to her killer was not easy.

Sam started at the last thought. He hadn’t fulfilled his promise to Jess yet. Would he still be able to now? Or was that categorized under ‘leave all mortal ties behind’ section.

Sam glanced over at the Scott. He still didn’t trust him completely but part of his story was checking out after their encounter with the biker.


Sam shook his head, he still couldn’t believe it. He had run across legends of immortality in research he had done while looking for something else.

But that had always been a myth.
Something unattainable.

So why had Sam obtained it and not Jess? She had died just if not more violently than he had. Sam closed his eyes but the last image he had of Jess surfaced anyway.

He could still feel the flames.
He could still see the blood.

Sam rested his right arm against the door and laid his head against it. Why weren’t things ever easy?

chapter five