Eryn's Journal

Hunter Snowman

2008-07-20T17:47:34Z

Rating:
General and Wee-chester - my first attempt and posted at Fanfiction. net ages ago!

Summary:
Young Sam and Dean with a snowman!    Sam is eight and Dean is twelve.

I hope you enjoy.

HUNTER SNOWMAN

Winter had arrived suddenly during the night with the first snow fall covering the small town in a heavy white blanket. Pastor Jim Murphy shoved his hands in his pockets as he trudged through the deep snow towards his small home. He had forgotten some books he needed in order to write his sermon for Sunday. He cursed himself and his age for his forgetfulness. The church and his home weren't too far from each other but the deep snow made it heavy going. He stamped his feet as he pushed the door open and was nearly knocked over by eight year old Sam Winchester running along the hallway.

John Winchester's youngest looked up at him guiltily. "Sorry Pastor Jim," he huffed as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. Hatless, Sam was wrapped up in what Jim recognised as Dean's warm jacket. A red scarf had been looped around his neck several times and Jim could see a pair of red mittens stuffed in one of the jacket pockets.

"Where's the fire?" Jim asked with a smile.

"Gonna build a snowman before the snow disappears," Sam answered holding up a carrot in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other.

"What's in the bag Sam?" Jim asked curious.

"Stuff for my snowman," Sam answered with a grin. "I've got some stones for his mouth, some buttons for eyes, a hat and a scarf," he listed with a happy smile. "And Dean made me a sword. It's really cool. The best sword ever."

"For your snowman?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," Sam grinned again. "It's gonna be a hunter snowman."

"I see," Jim said slightly saddened that even when the Winchester children played hunting lurked in the background. "I'm sure it'll be the best hunter snowman ever."

Sam nodded enthusiastically and gave Jim a huge beam. "Do you think Dad will like it?" he asked earnestly his expression changing from happy to anxious. "And do you think the snow will last until Dad gets home?"

"I am sure that your father will love it," Jim said reassuringly. He offered up a silent prayer, as he had done every evening, that the boys' father would get home soon. They both needed him. "And I think the snow will be with us for a little while yet," Jim assured the young boy as he looked up the hallway. "Is Dean going to help you?"

Sam gave a long dramatic sigh and brushed his hair out of his eyes again. "No. He says he's busy right now," Sam gave a little smile. "But he did promise to come and look when I'm done."

"What's he doing?" Jim asked.

"Baking and other stuff," Sam replied. "He says we gotta do stuff around the house. So Dad won't be mad and .... and," Sam bit at his lip and kicked idly at the floor falling into silence. "Not meant to say," he mumbled.

Jim bent down and tilted Sam's chin up so he was looking directly into the boy's eyes. Jim nodded smiling at Sam encouragingly. "I promise that it'll be our secret," he assured.

Sam looked back up the hallway and then back to Jim. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I think Dean is afraid that if we don't do stuff you'll send us away. And then Dad will get mad at us."

Jim bit in a sigh. Sometimes he wanted to strangle John Winchester with his bare hands for his complete lack of understanding of his own children and their innate insecurities. He straightened up looking down on an anxious Sam. "That will never happen," he ruffled Sam's unruly mop of hair. "You and Dean are always welcome here. I like having you around."

"You do?" Sam asked with a small hopeful smile. "Even though I'm too noisy sometimes," he bit at his lip again nervously. "Dean says so.... but I really try to be quiet. It's just hard sometimes," he said a serious look on his little face.

Jim tried to stifle a chuckle at the look on Sam's face. "I know you do Sam," he assured. "And I don't mind. Really. I like you both being here. Noise and everything. OK?"

Sam gave a small nod immediately convinced by the older man's reassurances. "Pastor Jim?" Sam looked up at the older man through his long hair that insisted on falling over his eyes. He brushed the hair out of his eyes yet again and kicked distractedly at the floor again. "Do you think Dean's OK?" Sam asked, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

Jim gave a frown on his own and knelt back down so that he was eye level with Sam again. "Why do you say that?" Jim asked kindly. He knew that Dean had a tendency to keep things to himself and it worried the older man that may be he had missed something.

Sam shrugged. "He .... you know still looks tired and sick," he replied. "Dean's just not Dean," he said shooting the Pastor a frustrated look not sure that his words described what he wanted to say.

"Sam," Jim said softly. "Dean was very sick but he's getting better. He just needs to rest. So you and me," he touched a finger to the small boy's chest. "Will just have to keep an eye on him. Make sure he's resting and getting stronger. Back to the Dean we all love. OK?"

Sam thought for a moment concentration dominating his features. "I could give him lots of hugs," Sam brightened at the idea. "Like he gives me when I'm sick."

"I think Dean will like that," Jim gave Sam a smile. "So that's agreed. You're in charge of hugs and I'm in charge of the other stuff. Now go and start your snowman. I'm going to see what Dean is up to."

"He's making cookies," Sam said as he hurried out of the door his carrot and bag clutched tightly in his hands. "See you later Pastor Jim," he called over his shoulder as the door slammed behind him.

Jim shook his head wishing he had the enthusiasm and energy of the eight year old. He quickly stopped off in his study to look for the books he needed. He cursed himself for being so untidy as he rummaged through the stacks of books haphazardly balanced on the desk, all the chairs in the room as well as on the rickety looking shelves. Jim searched through the piles of books on demon lore, supernatural beings and several Latin texts and translations frantically searching for the books he needed to help him write his sermon. He grinned to himself sorely tempted to write his sermon based on demon lore but after chuckling for a few moments decided against it knowing that some of his more serious parishioners wouldn't see the funny side at all. Twenty minutes later with three books tucked under his arm, Jim ambled towards the kitchen. The kitchen was empty and Jim moved towards the table putting down his books. He looked around. The kitchen was tidier than it usual. All the surfaces had been wiped down, kitchen utensils put away and the floor had been swept. A pile of neatly folded laundry lay on one of the chairs. Jim could see some of his own shirts folded amongst the smaller t-shirts, sweaters and jeans. He sighed to himself knowing it had been Dean's doing.

Jim's gaze drifted towards the table. Two pies and a dozen or so cookies had been placed carefully on the table to cool. Jim bent over the table sniffing at the wonderful aroma. Slumping into his favourite chair he snagged a cookie from the tray and sat back to wait for Dean to return.

As he waited for Dean Jim's thoughts turned to a month before when a panicked John Winchester had burst through his door cradling his eldest son in his arms a frightened looking Sam following behind. He had taken one look at Dean and grabbed Sam's hand and propelled them back out of the door towards his own truck. Not taking no for an answer he had bundled Sam into the front seat and pushed at John until he slid in the vehicle as well Dean still cradled in his arms.

The child had been unconscious, his face pale, his body sweating and trembling from a high fever, his breathing rattling in his chest and he was covered in an angry red rash that Jim recognised immediately. The doctor at the hospital had confirmed his suspicions. Dean had somehow contracted the measles. Although now a rare disease Jim had found out from a tearful Sam that they had been living and going to school in a small community for over three weeks while John hunted an angry spirit who was terrorising one of the families. From Sam's description Jim doubted that the townsfolk believed in vaccination and Jim very much doubted that Dean himself had been vaccinated. It wouldn't have been on his John Winchester's list of priorities but something told him that Dean would have made sure that Sam had been vaccinated.

He had sat a terrified Sam on his knees and cuddled him close to his body while John Winchester paced up and down the hospital waiting room. Jim had never seen his friend so frightened and could see the guilt tearing John up as he paced. Sam told him later that Dean had been sick for two days hiding his illness from his father before he had collapsed while preparing dinner.

Dean had spent two days in the PICU and a further week and a half in the hospital due to a nasty bout of pneumonia coupled with bronchitis, a common side effect the doctors had assured John and Jim. As soon as Dean had regained consciousness and started to slowly improve, John had drawn Jim aside and told him that he had been called away on a hunt with Caleb and asked him to look after the boys. Jim had been angry with his friend and tried to persuade him to stay saying that Dean needed him. But despite his pleas John had gone on the hunt two days later leaving Sam and Dean in Jim's care. He sensed that Dean was upset about his father leaving but decided against saying anything not wanting to cause the boy any more misery than was necessary. His heart broke every time he came back to the room knowing that Dean had been crying and he silently cursed John Winchester for being so uncaring and unthinking of his eldest son's feelings and needs.

Jim loved having the boys stay with him. During the summer he had even redecorated the room they used filling it with a small array of second-hand toys and books they could use when they visited. He had noted with pleasure that the battered teddy bear that he had put on Sam's bed had mysteriously disappeared after their last visit at the end of the summer and wasn't a bit surprised to see its head poking out of Sam's backpack this visit. The furniture was sparse - a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a bedside table placed between the two beds he had managed to squeeze into the room, a queen for Dean and a single for Sam instinctively knowing that Sam would spend most of his nights in Dean's bed due mainly to the relentless nightmares he suffered most nights.

Sam's incessant talking and noise filled his small house making it seem less lonely. Dean was much quieter and more reserved saying little and always on guard. Jim knew that if he had to chose a favourite it would be Dean for some reason he couldn't really explain. Despite his efforts to be strong, self-assured and older than his twelve years Dean epitomised vulnerable making Jim just want to hug the boy even though he knew it wouldn't be welcomed. But he never played favourites loving both boys equally and enjoying their company. Jim sometimes wished that John would leave the boys with him for longer spells so they could go to school and make friends, but he knew that if he suggested it, he would lose both John's friendship and any chance of having the boys stay with him. So Jim had long ago resigned himself to the short visits and concentrated on enjoying every moment while desperately trying to give the boys some semblance of a childhood. He sighed as he snagged another cookie leaning back in the chair writing parts of his sermon in his head while he waited.

Dean leaned up the window frame as he stared out at the snowy landscape. He kept himself out of sight as he turned his attention to watching Sam and making sure that his little brother was OK.

He had really wanted to help Sam build his snowman but Dean knew that his father expected him to help around the house so he had spent the morning baking some cookies and pies, tidying the kitchen and doing the laundry finishing up with the ironing. He kicked at the floor distractedly wanting desperately to be outside but Dean knew he had responsibilities and he didn't want to let his father down.

His thoughts turned to his absent father. Dean loved his father, worshipped and looked up to him but at the moment he hated him. Hated his father for leaving them again. Hated him for caring more about demons, werewolves and the supernatural than Sam and him. Dean had desperately wanted his father with him at the hospital but as usual the Hunt had beckoned and enticed him away. Dean had been terrified, had never felt so ill and helpless in all his young life and had just wanted his father. He had nearly pleaded but had bitten back the words knowing that his father would be disappointed in him for being weak and childish. Dean had to be strong and hide the hurt he felt because he desperately wanted to prove to his father that he was worthy and would one day make a strong and skilful hunter. But needing to be strong hadn't stopped Dean from wanting to cry desperately craving a hug from his father. Pastor Jim had been there with him every day but it just wasn't the same. He loved the Pastor but wanted his father. A father that more often than not forgot he was even alive.

Dean sighed and absently ran his finger up and down the condensation on the window. Every now and then Dean wished for a normal life for himself and Sam. He knew he would never have that life but deep inside him Dean wished for a normal life for his brother. The demon had murdered his mother, taken his father and stolen his and Sam's childhood. Dean couldn't help feeling deserted and he hated the feelings his father was evoking within him. He tried to push them down deep but the feelings of despair, disappointment and discontent with their nomadic life were overwhelming at the moment making him feel confused and bewildered. He sighed again, sometimes Dean couldn't help feeling abandoned, lost and alone.

The only bright spot in his life was Sam. His brother made him laugh and even though he was nearly a teenager Dean still craved Sam's hugs, his gentleness and the innocence of his comforting words. Sam was his responsibility and Dean took it very seriously. Sam was everything to him and he had a sneaky feeling that Sam felt the same. Dean didn't need friends - he had Sam. They did everything together and he felt a certain degree of pride when Sam brought home awards that he had been given for good school work. Sam was his whole life. Concentrating on bringing Sam up and giving him as much of a childhood as he could distracted Dean from their crappy life and his feelings of isolation. And somehow thinking about Sam had the effect of making Dean feel less lonely.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam grinning as he watched his brother march up and down the front path his hands on his small hips as he surveyed the front lawn from all possible angles. Dean couldn't help laughing at the look of pure concentration on Sam's little face as he began to roll a ball of snow towards the middle of the lawn area. Once in position Sam began to pat the snowball into a "body" shape. Sam stepped back to admire his work before starting to roll a smaller ball of snow towards the snowman's body. Satisfied that Sam was alright Dean pushed off the window frame and made his way back to the kitchen.

Halfway along the hallway Dean felt suddenly dizzy and swayed slightly. He reached out towards the wall to steady himself. He lay against the wall taking deep breaths trying to force the dizziness away. He closed his eyes hating himself for feeling so tired and weak. Dean held onto his chest as he coughed. Although still a hard bark like cough it was getting better and hurt less but it still rattled in his chest and he still wheezed slightly when he breathed. The darkness was trying to claim him but Dean resisted breathing hard against the feeling as he slid down the wall to the floor. He continued to cough as he rubbed absently at his chest trying to calm himself. Dean blinked and after a few moments forced his eyes fully open to find Jim kneeling at his side. Dean didn't know how long the Pastor had been there and he had no knowledge of how long he had been in the hallway. He flushed in embarrassment and gave Jim a weak smile.

"You OK there Dean?" Jim asked concerned having found Dean half collapsed against the wall coughing and holding onto his chest.

"Fine," Dean took a deep breath and struggled to his feet pulling himself up to his full height determined not to look weak in front of his father's best friend. Dean glared at Jim cursing himself for letting himself be caught.

Jim cocked his head to one side regarding the child in front of him. His face was pale with flushed cheeks from the coughing fit but his green eyes had a look of steely determination in them. It always amused Jim that every expression of Dean's seemed to have its own unique glare contained within it, but even with the glare Dean gave him this time Jim wasn't convinced that the twelve year old was fine. "Let's go and sit in the kitchen for a while," he put a firm hand under Dean's elbow giving his young friend no opportunity to escape his grip. He led Dean slowly towards the kitchen.

Jim sat Dean down at the table and prepared them both hot chocolate placing a mug in front of Dean. "Here you go," he said kindly as he slumped down in his own chair.

Remaining silent Dean regarded Jim with veiled emerald eyes. The hint of hardness and suspicion that was constantly present just under the surface of Dean's expressions always shocked and saddened Jim. It was a hardness borne out of misery and seeing things that a child should never see and it made Jim's heart ache for the child in the man's body sitting in front of him fiddling with his mug. For as long as Jim had known Dean, the young boy exuded an air of suspicion and distrust; it enveloped and smothered him like a dark shroud. Even at twelve Dean was confident and expert with all types of weapons and the strength and self-assuredness he displayed on the outside would make him a formidable hunter when he was older. But every now and again, when he was sick or hurt, Dean let his guard down and showed the world the real Dean Winchester. Gentle, caring and vulnerable, all traits his father despised convincing his son that they showed weakness. So Dean hid himself never letting anyone get close accept one person. His eyes and demeanour only softened and relaxed when he talked to Sam or talked about Sam. Dean became a boy again, like any other boy, and his eyes and expression gentled and shone with laughter and happiness as he talked to or teased his little brother.

Dean bit at his lip. "I'm fine," he repeated in case Jim hadn't understood the first time. He tried to stifle a cough but it forced itself despite his efforts.

Jim gave a small chuckle. The colour was slowly returning to Dean's pale face and the boy didn't seem to be wincing in pain when he coughed. He was sure that the dizzy spell had been caused by Dean overdoing things that morning. "OK," he decided to agree. "If you say so."

"I do," Dean said determined giving Jim another glare. He immediately flushed and looked away from the Pastor knowing that Jim didn't believe him for one moment. Dean decided to quickly change the subject away from himself and his health. "Is there anything else you want me to do? " he asked. "I could tidy up the living room and your study," Dean offered.

Jim sighed. "No," he replied.

"But," Dean started to say before looking down at his hot chocolate.

"But what?" Jim asked gently.

"Nothing," Dean shrugged. "I thought I could help out around the house," he bit at his lip again turning away from Jim again. "I like helping."

"I know you do Dean," Jim put a hand on the young boy's hand. "Look at me," he persuaded. Jim waited patiently until Dean finally turned his head and stared at him silently, a hint of defiance in the expression. Jim sighed to himself again. Despite the defiance he could clearly see that Dean was worried and Jim could also see a little bit of fear reflected in the greenness regarding him quietly. "Mrs Dorchester comes in to clean for me," Jim said gently. "You don't need to do stuff around the house. Mrs Dorchester will get upset and you don't want that do you?" Dean shook his head reluctantly. "And you were very sick and you need to take care of yourself and get better. You've only been out of the hospital a week," Jim patted Dean's hand.

"But I'm fine now," Dean interrupted displaying the stubbornness that he had obviously inherited from his father. "And I need... I have..," he stammered not able to force out the words. Dean coughed again and absently rubbed at his chest.

"Dean," Jim said firmly waiting until Dean had finished coughing. "You and Sam are always welcome here. Any time. And I don't care if you don't do anything around the house. It's not important. And most of all its not necessary."

"But," Dean protested.

"Look," Jim sighed in frustration. "We'll compromise. OK?" He waited for Dean's approval before continuing and was rewarded with a small nod of Dean's head. "Right. I'll take care of the house and stuff with Mrs Dorchester's help of course. And you can take care of Sam. But," he tapped Dean's hand to get his point across. "You also have to take care of yourself. No cleaning up the house or yard or doing my laundry and ironing. If I want you or Sam to do something for me, I'll ask. Now do we have a deal?"

"That's it?" Dean couldn't help the surprise in his voice. His father expected him to take care of everything when they stayed in a place for more than a week - the cooking, cleaning, laundry, looking after Sam as well as training and schoolwork, and he wasn't used to only having to look after himself and Sam. It all seemed alien to him and he searched Pastor Jim's face to find a hint of a lie or untruth but he only found truth and kindness reflected.

Jim held Dean's stare not flinching sensing that it was important that his young friend recognised the truthfulness of his words. "That's it," he confirmed with a smile. "Except that you have to make cookies again. And by the look and smell of those pies, more pies." He grinned at Dean as he snagged yet another cookie. "So do we have a deal?" Jim leaned back in his chair nibbling at his cookie as he watched Dean try to come to his decision happy that the twelve year old seemed satisfied with what he had seen in his expression.

"OK," Dean finally agreed giving Jim a smile. "Are the cookies really good?" he asked shyly. "They're Sammy's favourite."

"Mine too." Jim said as he popped the last bit of the cookie into his mouth. "And the ladies in my Womens' Guild would kill for them," he confirmed with a smile.

Dean flushed pink with pride. "I made the pies for Bobby because you said he was coming by later," Dean said. "And cherry pie is his favourite."

Jim couldn't help noticing Dean's happy expression at the thought of Bobby visiting and knew it had been the right decision to invite him to call in on his way home from a hunt. Bobby was someone Dean trusted and liked. "You're spoiling us all," Jim hauled himself out of his chair and gathered up his books. "Now I have a sermon to write and it won't write itself. Will you be OK?"

"Yeah," Dean gave Jim a genuine smile. "I feel much better now," he admitted shyly.

"Good. So why don't you go and help Sam build his snowman," Jim suggested. "I know he'd like that. And I'll be back later to see how you're both getting on."

"OK," Dean gathered up the mugs and carefully put them in the sink for washing later.

"Put on an extra sweater and wrap up warmly," Jim warned. "I don't want you getting sick again," he said as he moved towards the door. "There's a warm coat of Caleb's in the hall closet that should fit you. And enjoy yourself," Jim smiled as he closed the door behind him.

Dean hurried along the hallway pulling on his thick sweater. Retrieving Caleb's warm jacket from the closet and wrapping a scarf around his neck Dean was now looking for his gloves in the living room. He glanced out of the window to see how Sam was getting on.

His mouth dropped open in horror and he stood transfixed to the spot. The snowman was gone smashed into the ground. Looking to the edge of the lawn Dean saw Sam facing three larger boys. They were yelling at him and shoving him trying to knock him over into the snow. Sam bravely stood his ground his pose stubborn with his arms folded across his chest. The larger of the three boys, at least ten pounds heavier and three inches taller than Sam, suddenly stepped forwards grabbing for Sam's red scarf . Using the scarf he tried to pull Sam towards him.

With a small yelp Sam stepped back pushing at the boy's hands in a desperate effort to escape. Before Dean knew what was happening the larger boy caught Sam off guard knocking him to the ground. He leapt on top of Sam and they rolled in the snow. The other boys cheered on their friend as he rolled Sam onto his back and sat on him. Dean could see Sam tenaciously fighting back trying to push the boy off him but the boy had one of his arms pinned on the ground. Sam cried out as the boy twisted his arm.

The sound jolted Dean into action and he rushed outside slamming the door behind him. "Hey," he shouted angrily advancing on the boys. The two cheering boys saw Dean heading towards them, saw the murderous glare on his face and nudging each other turn-tailed and ran down the street. Dean ignored them as insignificant and concentrated his efforts on Sam. Barely controlling his temper he dragged the other boy from Sam's stomach by the collar of his coat. "Just what do you think you're doing," Dean snarled at the writhing boy.

"Leave me alone," the boy screamed as he wriggled in Dean's firm hold. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Oh yeah," Dean shook the boy angrily. "So why were you sitting on my little brother? And what happened to his snowman?"

"Nothing," the boy managed to squirm out of Dean's grip. "He's just a stupid little kid with no Mom or Dad or family. With a stupid big brother who got a little kid's disease. Charity kids," he shouted as he ran down the street. The boy stopped suddenly. He turned scowling at Dean. "And his snowman's stupid."

The boy yelped loudly as Dean's large snowball hit him firmly in the chest knocking him to the ground. Dean followed the first snowball with a second, a third and fourth snowball - all expertly on target - covering the boy with a thick dusting of snow as the missiles exploded on his body. "And if I catch you near my little brother or his snowman again," Dean yelled as the boy scrambled to his feet running down the street again. "I'll hit you with more than a snowball." The boy disappeared around the corner.

Dean immediately turned back to Sam who was still lying on the ground his breath was coming in harsh pants and he had wrapped an arm across his chest. "You OK Sammy?" he offered his hand to Sam.

Sam scowled at the use of his nickname but nodded as he accepted Dean's outstretched hand. "I had it under control," he wheezed as Dean hauled him to his feet.

"Yeah right," Dean chuckled as he helped Sam brush the snow off his now soaked jeans and jacket. "I could see that," he teased.

"I did so," Sam protested with a small cough. He gave Dean a glare.

"OK," Dean put his hands up in defence. "But I'm gonna show you a move that might help next time some dude decides to sit on your stomach."

"Really?" Sam asked. Dean nodded with a smile. "Cool," Sam breathed.

Dean noticed that Sam's breathing was still slightly harsh and he was still wheezing. "Sammy. You're not hurt anywhere are you?" he asked concerned as he patted his hands down Sam's body looking at his small face for any signs of pain or discomfort.

"No," Sam answered wiggling away from Dean's hands. "I'm OK. Just outta breath from where Aaron sat on me." Turning away from Dean, Sam ran over to his destroyed snowman flopping down in the snow. He picked up the carrot nose turning it over in his small hands - it had been broken in two.

"Hey," Dean leant down close to Sam. "Let's go inside and get you outta those wet clothes. I'll even make you some hot chocolate. OK?"

Sam looked up at his brother biting at his bottom lip. He could feel the tears threatening and really wanted to cry for his lost snowman but knew that his brother would only tease him and call him a baby. "OK," he murmured carefully pocketing the carrot. He hauled himself to his feet grabbing his bag and the sword that Dean had made him. With a last look over his shoulder at the pile of snow that had been his snowman, Sam followed his brother into the house his head down.

Dean moved around the kitchen preparing the hot chocolate and setting out some of the cookies onto a plate. He knew that Sam was upset over the snowman having seen the threatened tears in his brother's eyes and he sighed angry with himself that he hadn't got there earlier. Dean poured the hot chocolate into two mugs. "Hot chocolate's ready," he shouted as he heard Sam coming down the stairs. The door burst open and Dean couldn't help smiling to himself - even miserable and dejected, Sam was unnecessarily noisy. Sam slid onto a chair with a huge sigh crossing his arms on the table. He lay his head on his arms staring distractedly into the distance.

"Here you go," Dean offered Sam a mug of hot chocolate with a smile. "Have a cookie," he pushed the plate towards his little brother. "They're your favourites."

"Not hungry," Sam mumbled staring up at his brother.

"What's wrong Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam murmured as he slowly dragged himself upwards resting his elbows on the edge of the table his hands under his chin propping his head up. He stared down at his hot chocolate despondently.

"So," Dean sat next to his brother nursing his own mug of hot chocolate. "You know this Aaron dude then?"

Sam nodded taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "He's in my class at school," he answered. While they were staying with Pastor Jim they had been enrolled in the local school even though Dean had yet to attend due to his illness. Instead he was doing schoolwork at home while he recuperated from the measles and the pneumonia.

"Is he always so mean?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged avoiding looking at Dean, instead staring into his hot chocolate. "Or is it just you, he's mean to?" Dean asked gently. Sam shrugged again. Dean sighed nudging Sam's shoulder with his shoulder. "I thought we talked about this. You can tell me. That's what big brother's are for."

Sam turned his face towards his older brother, his eyes large and anxious. "I know.. but .... but you've been sick and... and I didn't wanna worry you," he stammered his eyes filling with tears.

"Hey," Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders hating when his little brother was upset.

Sam burrowed his head in Dean's shoulder. "Sorry," he whispered with a sniff.

"It's OK," Dean replied. "But I'm getting better now so you can tell me anything OK?"

Sam nodded looking up at Dean. "But it's OK really," he said quietly. "He don't bother me all the time." Dean unconsciously tightened his hug of his brother. "Just calls me names and runs away."

"Like charity kid?" Dean questioned. Sam nodded and buried his head in Dean's shoulder again. Dean grit his teeth and really wished he had put big stones in the snowballs he had thrown and vowed that when he was back at school he would be having strong words with Aaron and his two friends followed up by his fists. "Sammy," he pushed at his little brother. "We're not charity kids. And we do have a family. We've got Dad. Pastor Jim. Bobby. Caleb and each other. That's a good family, one of the best."

"I know," Sam sniffed again. "But he says you're stupid all the time. And you're not stupid. You're the best big brother in the whole world. And I love you."

Dean smiled at Sam. He didn't care if other children thought he was stupid but it was important to him what Sam thought of him. "I love you too Sammy," he whispered. "Even if you're a pain in the ass sometimes." Dean punched his brother's arm lightly. Sam giggled as he leaned up against Dean snuggling against his brother's warmth. They sat is silence for a few minutes as they sipped at their hot chocolate.

"Dean," Sam adopted his best serious expression shifting in his chair. "Do you need a hug? Because Pastor Jim said I'm in charge of hugs."

Dean pulled a face. "You can give me one later. Before we go to bed. OK?"

"OK," Sam agreed. "But you get two. One for now and one for later."

Dean laughed lightly suddenly feeling much better. Sam fidgeted in his chair again before nudging his brother. "About my snowman?" he whispered.

"It can be fixed," Dean said determined. "Go get your coat Sammy. We've got a snowman to build," he grinned at Sam. "And hunter snowman never give up. They always live to fight another day."

"Really? You mean it?" Sam asked his voice doubtful. He bit at his lower lip again his expression full of uncertainty. "But you've been sick and I've gotta look after you. Pastor Jim said so. And I don't want you to get sick again."

Dean smiled at Sam. "I promise to put on a thick jacket and wear my hat and scarf," he promised.

"And your gloves?" Sam asked with a matching smile.

"And my gloves," Dean rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Yay," Sam nodded his small face shining with happiness. He leapt to his feet and hurried towards the hallway in a flurry of arms, legs and noise. "Come on Dean," he shouted over his shoulder. "Hurry up."

"Boy," Dean murmured to himself. "The things that big brothers have to do for their little brothers," he grinned to himself as he made his way into the hallway. Shrugging into the jacket he wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his hat before joining Sam on the front lawn.

John Winchester watched from the shadows . He had an excellent view of his children - he could see them but they couldn't see him. He watched silently as his sons played in the snow together. It wasn't something that he agreed with or condoned but couldn't help smiling as he watched them build a large snowman impressed as they worked as a team. Dean seemed to have recovered from his illness although John heard the occasional harsh barking cough from his eldest as he rolled yet more snow towards the snowman.

The snowman was large and fat with arms fashioned from branches. A hat he recognised as Jim's sat lopsided on the head of the snowman. John squinted. The eyes of the snowman were large black buttons and it had a broken carrot for a nose with a row of shiny stones for its smiling mouth. He chuckled to himself as he noticed that the snowman was holding a home-made sword in one branched hand and it looked like it was brandishing it in the air. In the other branched hand it held a bag which had the word "salt" scrawled across it in his youngest's handwriting. The chuckle died in his throat leaving a bitter taste as he suddenly realised that his children had built a snowman that was obviously a hunter. It saddened him and the familiar guilt rose up threatening to choke him and John could hear the little voice that always sounded like his beloved Mary chastising him. John always tried to convince himself that it was the demon that had destroyed the boys' childhood but he knew deep inside that it was he, and he alone, that was guilty of that crime. Wrapped up in his own relentless quest for vengeance, John had stolen their childhood from them. Both Sam and Dean deserved better. He desperately wanted to be the father that they deserved but a coldness and emptiness within him prevented him from giving them the love they needed. He loved his boys so much but John found it so hard to show or tell them that they were loved and so often he wanted to just hold them close, hug them, but he knew that they had to be strong so he kept them both at arm's length.

John hadn't even noticed that Dean was sick until he had collapsed and had been horrified to learn that his eldest son had the measles. A disease he should have never contracted but John vaguely remembered he had been pursuing a werewolf when he should have been taking Dean to the doctor's office for his vaccination. While Dean had been in the hospital John had searched through the official papers he kept in a leather folder and had found meticulous doctor's records detailing all Sam's vaccinations but none for Dean. The discovery added another layer of guilt to the mountain he already carried around and he had promised himself that he would make it up to Dean. But then Caleb had called and he had forgotten all the promises he had made to himself. The Hunt, as usual, won over the needs of his sons, calling to him like the siren that had lured sailors to their deaths. This time it was a poltergeist terrorising a family two counties away.

His life was so full of regrets and broken promises and John knew that he was to blame for it. It was nobody's fault but his own and his sons were caught in the middle suffering in silence innocent victims of his obsessive revenge on the demon that had killed their mother.

John bit down the tears that threatened as he turned his attention back to his precious sons. Sam and Dean were in the process of wrapping a blue and white scarf around their creation and John could hear their childish laughing ringing out. They were happy and playing in the snow like any other child. John could hear the excited and loud voice of his youngest talking and laughing as they worked. Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders hugging him hard as they stepped back to admire their work.

John looked upwards. The sky was darkening to dust but John instinctively knew that his children were safe. Jim was angry with him for leaving while Dean was still in the hospital but he knew that the Pastor would protect his boys with his life. As if on cue Bobby Singer appeared with one of his legendary hunting hounds at his heels although you wouldn't know it as the hound bounced and frolicked like a puppy with his boys before knocking Dean over into the snow in its excitement. Bobby looked in his direction and John pulled back into the darkness hoping that his friend hadn't seen him. He watched as Bobby looked around him and up and down the street before calling the hound to heel as he hauled Dean to his feet, brushing the snow from his over-sized jacket and giving him a quick hug. John felt a momentary sting of jealously as his eldest son hugged the older hunter back saying something about cherry pies and his favourite. Bobby gave the boy another hug and John noted with another jolt of jealousy how his oldest stayed close to his hunter friend. He heard Bobby complimenting his children for a job well done, could hear Sam's excited squeals and Dean telling his brother to calm down. John Winchester suddenly felt very alone.

John stepped out of the shadows making a move towards his children. He stopped as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He stepped back into his hiding place retrieving the cell phone from his pocket. "Yeah," he snapped into the phone listening to the voice at the other end while looking up every now and again at his children playing in the snow. A fight had begun with Sam and Dean pelting Bobby with snowballs. Bobby's hound bounced around them all barking and yipping with excitement as the older hunter retaliated with his own barrage of snowballs.

"OK," he answered. "If I get going now I'll be there in two hours or so." He listened again. "No. No problem," John ended the call flipping his cell phone shut.

John took a last long look at his children playing happily before turning and jogging back towards the parked Impala. The Hunt beckoned him away from his children again but he knew they were safe and well cared for and he promised himself that he would be back with them within a week.

"Lights out in ten minutes Dean," Jim appeared at the bedroom door. After the snowball fight and scolding Bobby for getting the boys soaked Jim had insisted that both Dean and Sam have hot baths, not wanting Dean's bronchitis or pneumonia to return. He had then supervised Dean taking his medication before bundling them both up in pajamas, heavy dressing gowns and thick socks. They had enjoyed dinner with Bobby before Jim had hustled them both up to bed to read the comics Bobby had given them. He smiled to himself. Sam and Dean were cuddled together in Dean's bed. Dean was quietly reading his comic and Sam was fast asleep curled against his brother who had a protective arm around him. He smiled again - he could just see the furry head of the teddy bear poking out from the top of the blankets. "I see the batteries wore down," Jim nodded at a sleeping Sam.

"Yeah," Dean smiled at Jim cuddling Sam closer to his warmth. Jim turned to leave the room. Dean bit at his lip. "Pastor Jim?" he whispered looking down at his brother. "Dad was here," he said as he put his comic to one side. "When we were playing with Bobby."

"I doubt that," Jim assured as he turned back towards the boys. "He's with Caleb two counties over chasing down a poltergeist." He held his breath hoping that Dean would leave it there. The young boy's instincts were well honed and fine-tuned, and once again Jim was struck by the thought that Dean would make an excellent and outstanding hunter probably and very likely surpassing his father as his skills and proficiency grew and developed.

"No," Dean said stubbornly. "He was here. I know it. I felt him. He was watching us." He looked down fiddling with the edge of the blanket. "But he didn't come over," his voice wavered slightly and he bit back the tears that threatened.

Jim sighed in frustration making a mental note to have strong un-Pastor-like words with John Winchester. Walking back from the church he had seen the familiar shape of the Impala hidden behind the trees and had seen John jogging towards the vehicle. John hadn't seen him and Jim had watched the Impala roar off into the distance. Jim was saved from telling a lie by Dean. "Don't tell Sammy," Dean pleaded as he wiped at his eyes. "It'll only upset him," he said as he absently hugged the smaller body of his brother even closer. He coughed as he struggled to get himself under control. Dean sniffed, wiped at his eyes again and stared at Jim pleading with him silently.

"I won't I promise," Jim promised. Dean was one of the most generous and gentle children he had ever met always concerned about other people's feelings never about himself. From the tears in his eyes Jim knew that Dean was hurt by his father's thoughtlessness once again but his only concern was Sam. It broke his heart. Jim gave Dean a warm smile deciding that the twelve year old deserved a treat. "Tomorrow. We'll do whatever you want. OK?"

"Really?" Dean whispered not able to disguise the surprise in his tone.

"Really," Jim confirmed. "It will be Dean day. Now get some sleep young man."

"Cool," Dean breathed as he slid down the bed pulling Sam and his bear with him. "Thanks Pastor Jim," he murmured as Jim left the room turning the light out. Dean snuggled close to his brother. Sam murmured in his sleep tightening his hold on the teddy bear and curling closer to Dean. "It's OK Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you."

End

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-06-22T12:16:39Z

Chapter Nine
Knight's End

In the Knights' Hall

Under Merlin's instructions they had tied Pendragon, Agravaine and Maleagant to their specific chairs at the Round Table. Sam had started to protest preferring to throw them in a heap on the cold stone floor but Merlin had been adamant that it was important and Dean had kicked him so he had reluctantly complied with the instruction. Dean had then supervised the other Knights as they moved the shields away from their individual binding spells. The men were then herded to one end of the room, linked together with rope and tied securely to a brass ring that Sam had found secured into one of the walls. Dean was now covering the room with the shotgun. "Now what?" Dean asked impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.

Merlin turned to Sam touching his arm lightly. "What do you think Sam?"

Sam scrunched up his face in thought. "I think Mordred bound himself to the Knights using their amulets. That's why he wore them close to his own medallion," he explained. "Because the amulets represented what they believed in. Honour, unity and their pledge to King Arthur," he shrugged. "And somehow he linked the medallion and his tattoo to this room and the binding spell on the ceiling," he blew out a breath. "And tied in with all that and the magic he learned from Nimue he was able to control the possessions.... his own and his Knights."
"You really think it's that simple Sammy?" Dean asked looking upwards.

"Dean," Sam said patiently. "You said yourself the bad guys always keep it simple. That it was only the geeks that complicated stuff."
"Yeah I did," Dean couldn't help a smirk gracing his features. "So how do we undo what he did?" Dean questioned waving the shotgun at Pendragon.

"We take back the amulets," Sam said confidently. "And then destroy the medallion and that," he stabbed a finger upwards to the spell carved into the ceiling. "Somehow," he faltered. "Or perhaps if we destroy the medallion it will somehow destroy the carving because we've destroyed the link he conjured," Sam shrugged feeling unsure.

Dean ignored the shrug and Sam's uncertainty. "Sounds like a plan," he moved towards Pendragon. Quickly checking that the man was still unconscious Dean ripped the medallion and amulets from his neck. He jumped back startled as Pendragon's eyes snapped open and glared up at him.

"I will kill you both," Pendragon hissed as he struggled against his bonds. He looked around the room his eyes settling on Merlin. "And then I will send you back to your prison for all eternity. You meddling old fool."

Merlin stuck his head in the air. "You seem to be at a disadvantage Mordred," he spat glaring.

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah kinda tied up here," Dean recovered quickly moving away handing the amulets and medallion back to Sam. "Guess you're not calling the shots any more," he baited as he moved to Agravaine and Maleagant snatching the amulets from their necks and handing them also to Sam.

Pendragon ignored Dean and scanned the room again. He spotted Sam standing just to the side of Dean. "Join me," he encouraged with an evil smirk. "You were born to be evil," he said playing on the warring emotions he had sensed in the younger man at their first meeting. "I sense it," he pressed home his advantage as he continued to struggle against his bonds again. "You can share in all this. Together we will be a force to be reckoned with."

"Ignore him Sammy," Dean scowled at Pendragon as he stepped in front of Sam protectively. "He's lying. All demons lie. I know it. You know it. And he's no different to any of the demons we fight every day of our crappy lives."

Sam took a nervous step backwards. He knew instinctively that Pendragon couldn't turn him towards evil but he wanted to put as much space as possible between him and the older man. Dean had stepped in front of him and although he felt the usual exasperation at his brother's annoying protectiveness it made him feel safe at the same time. It always did.

"Still relying on your guardian I see," Pendragon sneered. "When I escape. And I will escape," he lifted his head upwards a smile forming across his lips. "I feel the power returning to me," he glared at Sam. "I will make you watch him die again."

"I'm like a cat," Dean quipped. "I have nine lives."

Pendragon glared. "I don't know how you live..... but I will find out and then take pleasure in killing you again," he sneered. "And then I will take your brother and turn him towards his destiny." He gave a hard harsh bark like laugh. "I will enjoy that."

"Why you...," Dean snapped stepping forwards his shotgun raised in anger.

Sam put his hand out snagging the leather belt around Dean's waist stopping him mid-stride. He tugged firmly. "No Dean," he murmured. "Don't," he glanced down at the amulets in his hands - they represented the honour and integrity of Arthur's Knights. The other medallion simply represented evil and wickedness. There was no choice. There had never really been a choice. "No Mordred," he said firmly and confidently stepping out from behind Dean letting go of the belt. "I will never join you or anybody like you," Sam snapped. He threw the golden medallion up into the air. "Dean," he shouted at the same time.

Dean turned instinctively knowing what Sam wanted him to do without his brother even asking. He looked up pulling his weapon comfortably into his shoulder carefully tracking the spinning movement of the medallion. Taking a deep calming breath and shutting out all the pain he felt in his body Dean closed one eye aimed the shotgun and squeezed the trigger gently hitting the medallion dead centre smashing it into a thousand small pieces. Every man in the room watched as the shattered pieces of the medallion hit the Round Table in a shower of golden coloured chunks.

Silence bounced eerily around the room for a moment before a low rumbling sound from above them made them all looked upwards. The ceiling seemed to ripple with an invisible force. The wooden chandeliers swung wildly snuffing out the candles as the delicate carving was seemingly attacked from all sides by the invisible force severing its intricate lines and swirls. Tiny pieces of stone and dust showered the hall and its occupants as the extravagant binding spell was slowly broken, separated into pieces.

"No," Pendragon screamed arching his body against the ropes. "No," he screamed again as the ropes mysteriously fell away from him. He took his opportunity leaping to his feet and charging towards Dean. Taken by surprise Dean stumbled as Pendragon swiped the shotgun from his hand. It clattered to the floor. Using his advantage Pendragon grabbed Dean by the throat backing him up against the wall. Dean struggled against the grip trying to kick outwards but Pendragon dodged every one of his efforts painfully tightening his grasp of Dean's throat forcing his head backwards. Using his height and weight advantage he pressed against Dean pinning him to the wall. Merlin moved to help but Pendragon saw him out the corner of his eye and waved his free hand in the air. He cackled as the wizard flew through the air hitting the opposite wall and sliding to the floor dazed.

"Dean," Sam cried as he snatched up the shotgun pointing it at Pendragon's back.

"I'll break his neck or choke the life slowly out of him. It doesn't matter to me which one," Pendragon threatened pressing his fingers cruelly into Dean's throat. Dean gasped painfully as the pressure intensified in his throat. He couldn't cry out as Pendragon cruelly leaned his weight against his other injuries. Pain lanced through his body and Dean managed a small pained groan. "And I guarantee he won't wake up this time." Pendragon glanced over his shoulder. "Let my Knights go," he ordered. "Or watch your brother die."

Sam's resolve wavered but he knew that Dean would be angry with him for giving up so easily. He tightened his grip on the shotgun. "No," he answered managing to keep the waver out of his voice.

"I'll do it. You know I will," Pendragon warned smiling at the distress he could see in his captive's face. He increased the pressure cackling nastily as Dean's lips slowly started to turn a light shade of blue. Dean was choking desperately trying to draw air into his starved lungs. Coloured lights were flashing in front of his eyes and he could feel the blackness of unconsciousness beckoning to him. He managed somehow to free one hand. Writhing against the hold he clawed desperately at Pendragon's hand trying to free himself. Pendragon grinned at him increasing the pressure on his body and throat. Dean closed his eyes.

"Shit," Sam yelped as he stared down at the amulets still clutched in his free hand. He dropped the shotgun to the floor transferring the amulets to his other hand. "Shit," he cried out again.

The cries distracted Pendragon momentarily and he couldn't resist looking back towards the younger brother. He loosened his hold of Dean who surprised at the release of the pressure on his body snapped his eyes open and drew in a long ragged breath coughing as air hit his hungry air-starved lungs. "Sammy," he managed to croak. "You OK?"

"They're hot," Sam answered dropping the amulets from his hand expecting to watch them drop to the floor. Before the amulets could hit the floor they suddenly rose up into the air circling the Round Table spinning in the air gracefully as if the charms themselves were searching for their rightful place. One by one each amulet dropped to an individual section of the table with a clunk.

"Nooooooooo," Pendragon wailed releasing Dean completely and headed towards the Round Table. Dean took his opportunity and pushed himself off the wall snatching up the shotgun again and moving to stand at Sam's side rubbing at his bruised neck with his free hand. Sam had helped Merlin to his feet and was now supporting the old man as he wobbled slightly on his feet. Out of the corner of his eye Dean noticed that Maleagant and Agravaine were also mysteriously free and were advancing on the brothers. Dean tensed levelling the shotgun at the now free Knights. Without warning both Knights suddenly dropped to the floor unconscious. The four Knights at the end of the room screamed before crumpling to the floor and Dean watched in fascination as blue lights left each body shooting upwards and escaping through the ceiling itself.

Dean and Sam turned their attention to Pendragon who was at the Round Table desperately trying to collect the amulets but every time he went to snatch one, the amulet moved out of his reach. Without warning Pendragon unexpectedly staggered backwards clutching at his neck. "It's burning," he choked clawing at his neck. "Help me," he reached out towards Sam who flinched stepping out of range. Sam squinted and as Pendragon desperately pulled down the high collar of his armour he could see the tattoo bubbling melting the skin as it slowly dissolved in the same way as the ceiling symbol had done. Pendragon continued to claw at the reddening skin before slumping to the ground unconscious.

"What the hell?" Dean drew Merlin and Sam backwards as the Round Table was unexpectedly bathed in a bright white light. A loud humming surrounded them filling the room with its intensity. The light encompassing the table grew brighter and brighter in perfect synchronicity with the deafening humming noise. The sound built and built finally reaching a crescendo which shattered all the windows in the Hall one by one. Glass shards rained down on Merlin and the brothers. Merlin, Sam and Dean turned away covering their ears against the roaring noise desperately trying to shield their eyes from the light and their bodies from the falling glass.

The silk folds of the standards positioned behind the shields started to flutter wildly even though, despite there now being no windows, there was no breeze. Bolts of white and yellow light suddenly shot out from each of the shields hurtling upwards to the ceiling. The shafts of light flared and flashed as they rose into the air. The separate light bolts then snaked across the ceiling caressing and undulating as they cleansed the stone completely of its markings. The ceiling seemed to hiss and steam as the light rippled across its surface. Finally as one the shafts of light glided gracefully to the centre of the ceiling colliding over the table exploding into a million brightly coloured fragments that rained down in a burst of energy and electricity.

Just as suddenly as the noise had begun it petered out to a low whirring sound. Dean cautiously looked up to see that the Round Table was now bathed in a shimmering mute yellowish light. He nudged Sam's shoulder and they dragged themselves to their feet helping Merlin up.

"Wow," Dean breathed staring in disbelief at the scene before him. In all his years of hunting the supernatural he had never seen anything like it. Glimmering ghost-like figures now sat in each of the Knights' chairs their hands laying on the table itself. They were dressed in full chain-mail suits with tabards bearing their personal insignia. Each Knight now wore their individual amulet around their neck. Dean looked to the floor and watched open-mouthed as three shimmering forms seemed to ascend from Pendragon, Maleagant and Agravaine. They took their places at the Round Table. Behind their chairs stood six Knights wearing the insignia of King Arthur, swords drawn, guarding their prisoners. Dean turned to Merlin. "What? How?" he stuttered still lost in awe at what they were witnessing. "Damn," he turned back to the Round Table staring.

"Sam. Dean," Merlin grinned. "May I present the Knights of the Round Table," he said with a flourish of his hand and a small bow.

"You're not kidding are you?" Sam said breathlessly staring at the scene before them. "They're really.... really them," he stuttered pointing his hand at the table.

"No he isn't," a voice from behind them answered. "And they are who you think they are young man. The Knights of the Round Table." They all turned to see another Knight walking towards them. Bathed in a soft light and dressed in the same armour as the other Knights, this man's tabard bore the insignia of Arthur Pendragon.

"Arthur," Merlin said moving forwards. "I am so happy to see you."

"Old friend," Arthur smiled. "And what kind of trouble have you been getting into now?" he teased.

"Dragging innocent people into his battles with evil," Sam couldn't help mumbling under his breath.

"Dude," Dean nudged Sam's shoulder in warning. "Since when were we ever innocent," he whispered with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance but remained silent.

"Mordred has been up to his old tricks. Trying to steal Excalibur. Using black magic for his own evil purposes. Hurting innocent people and those that were trying to help me. You know the usual intrigue that we have come to expect from him," Merlin said with a small shrug of his shoulders. "But it's over now," Merlin assured Arthur. "With Sam and Dean's help... Mordred is back where he belongs. And those that he possessed are once again free from his bidding."

"Is it really over?" Sam asked doubtfully. "What about Mordred and his bully boys?" he nodded towards the Round Table.

"They will be dealt with and punished in a fitting manner," Arthur answered. "He will never be allowed to wreak havoc again. I promise. You have my word as a Knight."

"What about the real Pendragon and his men?" Sam asked worried. "They could remember..... well you know stuff."

"I very much doubt that they will remember anything when they awake," Merlin assured. "It is likely that the kind of black magic Mordred used will leave them with flashes of memory only and may be not even that. He intended to possess their bodies forever so he wouldn't have allowed their consciousness to exist within him."

"Boy are they gonna get a shock when they wake up and find six months have passed them by," Dean whistled. "At least he can afford the therapy," he quipped nodding to the unconscious form of the real Uther Pendragon.

Sam bit at his lip. "What if Pendragon accidentally brings Mordred to life again?" he asked worried. "He must have done something to allow Mordred to escape but," he shrugged. "I guess we'll never know what he did."

"Don't worry," Merlin put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I promise to make sure that Mordred never escapes again. The Knights and I will protect your modern day Pendragon as well as our beloved Camelot."

Sam smiled. "OK," he nodded. Despite his distrust of the wizard he had a strange feeling that Merlin would keep his promise.

"So you're not staying here... in our time?" Dean noted with a wry smile.

"I don't belong here," Merlin said softly. "I could never belong here. It is too strange for my taste and liking. Too confusing. All that awful... what do yo call it .... ah yes slang and strange words," he waved his hand dismissively. "I belong with Arthur and his Knights. I have always belonged with them," he smiled again.

"But they're ... you know dead and you're not," Dean said blushing. He risked a sideways glance hoping that the Knights hadn't heard him.

"I'm a magician and a wizard. The very best," Merlin boasted. "And I can exist with them. And together we will continue to protect what we believe in."

Dean gave a small nod. He turned to Arthur as he awkwardly removed Excalibur and its scabbard from his back. "Yours I think," Dean offered Excalibur to its rightful owner.

"Thank you for protecting it so well for me," Arthur accepted the sword. "You proved yourself as a true Guardian and you have honoured the insignia of Sir Bedivere," he pointed towards the table.

Dean blushed at the compliment and for once in his life couldn't think of a thing to say. Instead he let his eyes follow to where Arthur was pointing. A tall Knight was standing at the edge of the table. He raised his hand in salute giving Dean a small bow. "Sir Bedivere," Merlin whispered in Dean's ear.

"Cool," Dean breathed saluting back as he watched the Knight take his place at the table once again.

"Thank you both for assisting Merlin defeat Mordred and his evil. And for releasing us from Mordred's evil magic. The Knights and I owe you a great debt. One that I pledge we will repay one day," Arthur said as he secured Excalibur's scabbard around his waist. Arthur looked at Merlin. "It's time to go old friend," he said softly. Merlin nodded as Arthur gave Dean and Sam a small bow before stepping into the light around the Round Table joining his Knights.

"Sam," Merlin took Sam's hand in his own. "I mistook you for Galahad because I saw integrity, honesty and goodness deep within you. It is part of you. Woven into your soul," he patted Sam's hand. "Remember this. You are always master of your own destiny. And you have to believe in yourself. And know this. That like the power of suggestion belief in oneself is more powerful than any magic I or anybody else could ever conjure. You have proved that today."

Sam searched the old man's face for any hint of a lie but found none. He gave a small nod. "I'll try," he said softly.

"That is all that I can ask of you," Merlin smiled as he leaned forwards. "You have a Guardian protecting you," he whispered in Sam's ear. "And if you find you can't trust yourself for whatever reason. Trust in your guardian. But also remember that Guardians need protecting too."

"I know," Sam drew back smiling. "And I will. I promise."

Merlin let go of Sam's hands and moved over to Dean. "Dean," he said. "Thank you for believing in a foolish old man. And thank you for helping when you didn't have to," he pressed something into Dean's hand curling his fingers over it. "A reminder," he said at Dean's frown. "That you were once a Knight and that you will always be a Knight." He tapped Dean's chest. "I still stand by my words. You have the heart and soul of a Knight."

Merlin stepped away. He took hold of both brothers' hands. "And finally a gift from me because I never wanted you to feel pain because you assisted me in my mission," he closed his eyes concentrating intently on the wounds on their bodies determined to cleanse them of the hurt and pain they had suffered. Dean and Sam looked at each other frowning. They watched as Merlin's hands glowed pale green. The light spread to their own hands and they watched in fascination as their own hands turned a luminous greenish colour.
Sam tried to snatch his hand away and out of the corner of his eye he could see Dean trying to do the same. But their hands remained tightly in Merlin's gnarled hands. Sam felt a warmth spreading over his body and he closed his eyes against the peculiar sensation. It ran up and down his back caressing the whip wound and he sighed as the stinging ache faded slowly. The warmth moved to his wrists and the blistering sensation from the rope burns dispersed into nothingness.

Dean tried to wrench his hand free from Merlin's without success. He glanced sideways to see that Sam had his eyes closed, a small smile gracing his features. Sam's hand touched his arm conveying that he was all right. Dean's body felt strangely warm all over and satisfied that Sam was safe he surrendered to the feeling. The sensation was peculiar and to Dean it felt like fingers, their feather-like touch gently caressing and stroking over the wounds at his side, shoulder and neck. The pain he had been feeling but ignoring stubbornly slowly evaporated until he felt nothing but warmth and a sense of calm.

The warmth left them both as Merlin released their hands. He smiled at them both before stepping into the light surrounding the table. Merlin raised his hand in salute and a farewell.

Sam and Dean watched as the light around the Round Table became brighter and brighter. Without warning the bright light exploded disappearing completely into nothingness leaving the room lit only by the torches on the walls. The Knights, Arthur and Merlin had disappeared completely.

Sam and Dean looked at each other in stunned silence for a moment. "What did he give you?" Sam asked curious. Dean looked down uncurling his fingers slowly to reveal a Knight's amulet. "Does this mean we have to add chain mail to our armoury?" Sam teased.

"Jerk," Dean said.

"Bitch," Sam retorted with a smile.

Epilogue

Knights of the Coaster

Two hours later they had checked out of the hotel and packed their gear into the trunk of the Impala. They were now walking shoulder to shoulder through the theme park, Dean having decided not to waste the tickets he had purchased.

"Do you think they'll be OK?" Sam asked worry creasing his forehead. "You know the real Pendragon and his men."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I have this funny feeling that Merlin will keep his promise and look out for them. Hey," he nudged Sam's shoulder. "They'll be the only businessmen to be protected by real live Knights of medieval times."

Sam chuckled. "I'm sure that Merlin won't be able to resist visiting from time to time from wherever they went," he agreed with another chuckle.

"We met the Knights of the Round Table," Dean said not being able to control the excitement in his voice. "Wow," he said. "Just wow. And Merlin thought we were Knights too," he beamed happily at Sam. "But Sir Sammy doesn't sound quite right," Dean teased.

"Sir Sam does," Sam retorted with a smile.

"We were like .... like real Knights for a little while," Dean said wistfully.

"Dude," Sam laughed. "We haven't got room for a horse in the Impala," he quipped.

"But my baby is like a black charger," Dean responded with a wide smile. Sam rolled his eyes choosing to remain silent. " I wish we coulda ... you know talked to them," Dean glanced sideways at Sam blushing slightly at the admission.

Sam frowned. "And just what would you have said?" he asked sceptically.

Dean scrunched up his face in thought for a moment. "I don't know," he eventually admitted with a shrug. "But it would have been kinda cool," he beamed at Sam.

"Yeah I guess," Sam beamed back.

"We're here," Dean pointed at the queuing line for the roller coaster, Guinevere.

"Man you're serious about this aren't you?" Sam asked glancing sideways at his brother.

"Hell yeah," Dean smirked as they moved towards the line. "I'm twenty seven years old and aint never been on one. And I'm going on one now," Dean said determined.

"I could wait for you down here," Sam suggested nodding his head to a small outdoor coffee shop.

"No way. You're coming with me," Dean said. "Not scared are you?" he cocked his head to one side regarding his brother closely.

"No," Sam protested too quickly.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother appraisingly only half believing Sam's determined protestation. "OK. You can wait here," he relented not able to stop his face falling in disappointment.

Sam noticed the look and immediately felt guilty at taking away Dean's excitement at riding a roller coaster. "No," Sam said reluctantly. "I'm coming too."

He was rewarded with a huge grin from Dean. "Time to live dangerously Sammy," he challenged arching an eye brow at his brother.

"As if our lives weren't dangerous enough already," Sam rolled his eyes at Dean but grinned at his brother to take the sting out of the words.

Dean smirked at him. "This is fun. It says so in the brochure," he waved the small brightly coloured leaflet he had picked up from the hotel reception at his brother. "And it will put the danger we face every day into……. well you know some kinda perspective for us," Dean continued with a smile.

"It will?" Sam asked incredulous desperately trying to figure out his brother's crazy logic.
Dean grinned broadly at his brother. "Of course I guess it kinda depends upon your perspective."

Dean handed the attendant their tickets and they joined the line. Dean bounced slightly on his feet as the line moved forwards. Sam squinted at Dean still vainly trying to work out the meaning of the words and he had a strange feeling that his brother didn't know what he was talking about either. "What the hell," he threw his hands up in the air. "I'm in."

"Never had any doubts," Dean said as they finally made it onto the coaster station. He climbed into the front car of the coaster securing the safety bar over his head and shoulders. "All aboard," Dean turned to Sam patting the seat next to him.

Sam sighed in defeat. He climbed in next to Dean pulling the bar down over his shoulders. He gripped the metal bar in front of him with both hands trying to push the memory to the back of his mind of him being sick on a roller coaster when he and Jessica had visited a carnival near Stanford one summer. They waited patiently with the other riders while the attendant checked and double checked all the safety measures.

"You know," Dean shouted as the car moved forwards with a jolt. "I never had any doubt about you ………you're my brother and I know you better than anyone." Sam glanced at Dean half-nodding as he gripped the bars turning his knuckles white. He felt sick but managed a smile for this brother and a mouthed I know. Dean smiled back at him. "You just gotta believe in yourself," he shouted echoing Merlin's words.

Before Sam could answer a loud whine of machinery filled the air and the car lurched forwards as the pulley system dragged the snake of little coaster cars slowly up the first steep incline. At the top of the hill they stopped for a second waiting teetering on the edge waiting to descend downwards. The people in the cars behind them squealed and shouted in barely contained excitement.

Sam swallowed hard trying desperately not to throw up. Something made him look down to see Dean's hand covering his only white-knuckled hand. Sam looked deep into Dean's expressive eyes. Looking hard into the greenness he saw a mixture of trust, brotherly love, steely determination and belief. Dean gave him a knowing smile gently patting his hand. It was all Sam needed. He understood the silent meaning of Dean's touch and expression having seen it many times before. It meant I'm here. You're not alone. We're OK. The misery and pain of the last few days and weeks since he had shot his brother while possessed seemed to melt away and for the first time in a long time Sam felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. Merlin was right. If he couldn't trust himself he had to trust Dean and he did, with his life. Sam gave Dean a broad smile back.

Without warning the coaster lurched forwards plunging them over the edge hurtling down wards. The people behind screamed at the sudden movement and Sam felt a rush of air as they shot down towards the first slight bend at the bottom of the first slope. With Dean's hand still on his Sam suddenly felt even freer. All his worries and anxieties about his destiny seemed to disappear as their car screamed around the first bend and up the second incline. Even though he was secure in his seat Sam felt his body shift slightly from side to side bracing against the speed of the coaster as it raced up the metallic structure. Again they paused at the top of the hill before plunging downwards once more. Dean's hand left his and Sam felt strangely bereft. He chanced a glance sideways at Dean to find that his brother had his arms in the air grinning like a maniac. A part of him couldn't help feeling sad that Dean had never ridden a roller coaster as a child but looking at his brother's smiling face Sam knew Dean was making up for lost time.
The snake of the coaster cars raced up the last but one slope and Sam's stomach lurched at yet another fast change of direction. The coaster clanked and whirred as it sped them over the brow and down. The wind whipped at his hair and his face tingled. Sam felt alive. A look at Dean found his brother still smiling and shouting with the other riders. His enthusiasm and happiness was catching and as the adrenaline pumped around his body Sam risked taking his hands off the bar in front of him. He cautiously raised them into the air.

"Way to go Sammy," Dean screamed at him. Sam grinned at Dean. They high-fived the other's raised hand in a victory salute as their car took them over the final hill together.

End

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-06-07T10:23:01Z

Chapter Eight
A Knight's Vengeance

Somewhere behind him Sam could still hear Pendragon and his Knights laughing. The cruel mocking sounds echoed in his mind filling his head. Grief filled his every pore and the ache of his loss washed over him threatening to weigh him down forever. Dean was dead. He was alone and the thought terrified Sam. Dean had always been there for him, had been his protector all his life and Sam knew, deep down, he had been relying on Dean to save him from walking the path of evil. Pendragon's laugh assaulted his ears and Sam felt a burning rage rise within him. Dean's murderer was laughing. Something snapped in Sam and revenge filled his soul. He carefully laid Dean on the ground gently running his fingers along his brother's forehead petting his short hair.

Sam's eyes looked around desperately searching for a weapon. His eyes fell on a sword rammed into the ground. Excalibur. Fear gripped him and he shivered slightly. Sam glanced back to his brother laying so still on the ground and a grim determination took hold of him as he remembered Merlin's words - believe. He believed in Dean and his brother believed in him. The thought strengthened his resolve and Sam reached his hand out towards the sword. His hand shook slightly but looking at the blood staining his skin, knowing that the blood was Dean's wiped away his inner fears and doubts replacing them with a steely determination. His fingers clasped tightly around the unfamiliar feel of the sword grip. Expecting to experience some sort of pain Sam couldn't help feeling a jolt of surprise when nothing happened. No protective blue light, or humming or electric shock as he touched the weapon. Sam tightened his grip on the sword and ignoring the pain in his back from the whip he dragged himself to his feet. He didn't have any armour but Sam didn't care. Nothing mattered to him except the revenge filling his heart and soul. He rushed towards Pendragon screaming, the sword held high. The older man saw him coming, was surprised to recognise the sword in the younger man's hand but still waved his Knights away with an unconcerned flick of his hand. Pendragon knew that as long as the sword didn't touch his body he was safe from its power. He quickly adopted a defensive stance and met Sam head on, their swords clashing loudly together.

Sam howled in rage tears filling his eyes blurring his vision. His wiped absently at his eyes as he charged forwards. His actions were wildly off target and clumsy borne out of his anguish and sorrow but he fought on blindly unaware and oblivious to everything around him except his vengeance on Pendragon. A random thought popped into his head that his father and Dean would be disappointed in his shoddy fighting style but Sam was past caring. Dean's death needed to be avenged. He slashed the sword in wide untidy circular movements desperately trying to hit Pendragon lunging back and forth.

Pendragon continued to laugh, a harsh barking sound, as he dodged every one of Sam's clumsy attacks. "You're making it too easy Sammy," he baited wielding his own sword and at the same time keeping his eyes on Excalibur and Sam's erratic movements.

His hated nickname, the one only Dean was allowed to use, spouting from the lips of the man that had murdered his brother further fuelled Sam's anger making his blood boil and he surged forwards. "Go to hell," he screamed. Somewhere at the back of his consciousness Sam knew he was fighting with an innocent possessed body but revenge for his brother's death clouded his usual level headedness and he fought on ignoring the little voice in his head. He brought his sword down hard on Pendragon's weapon. In a mad frenzy of movement Sam drove Pendragon backwards as he brought Excalibur down over and over again onto the older man's blade.

The metallic sound of the swords striking each other filled the small area as they fought on. Sam kicked out at Pendragon trying to knock him off his feet but only managed to unbalance himself. He stumbled and Pendragon took his opportunity and shoved Sam hard.

Sam dropped to the ground and the sword flew out of his hand. Wincing in pain as his back hit the ground Sam reached outwards but Pendragon kicked the weapon away. He frowned down at his foot and the sword before turning his attention back to Sam. Pendragon glared down at Sam raising his sword high above his head. He angled the sword downwards. "I'm going to kill you like I killed your idiot brother," he grinned victorious. From his position on the ground Sam glared back up at Pendragon determined not to give the older man the satisfaction of showing that he was frightened. "No last words. No pleas for mercy," Pendragon crowed. Sam remained silent glaring up at his tormenter. Pendragon drew his arm back.

"What did I tell you about threatening my brother?" a familiar voice rung out. Sam blinked in confusion, heard the sound of a shotgun firing twice and watched Pendragon flying backwards as two rock salt bullets hit him square in the centre of the chest. His body seemed to shimmer and Sam was sure that he could see two men for a split second. Pendragon slumped to the floor unconscious and Sam heard his head crack on the ground. Sam blinked and shook his head. When he looked again Pendragon was one body laying on the ground. Sam glanced sideways to see his back-from-the-dead brother reloading the gun one-handed. The remaining Knights moved forwards and Dean waved the shotgun at them. "Ladies," he teased sarcastically racking the shotgun again. "Weapons. Over here. Now," he ordered waving the weapon at them. They hesitated before moving forwards again. Dean didn't hesitate and immediately fired two warning shots over their heads. He racked the gun re-loading quickly and efficiently as the Knights faltered stopping in their tracks looking to Agravaine for guidance. Open mouthed, shocked and a little bit frightened at seeing Dean on his feet, Agravaine looked at Pendragon's prone form before giving a sharp nod to the other Knights. They all reluctantly threw their swords towards Dean in a clatter of metal. He waved the shotgun at them herding them together their backs up against the fencing. "Stay. Or you'll get the same treatment as your boss," he ordered as he looked down at his brother and beamed.

"Dean," Sam blinked again as he pulled himself up into a sitting position squinting up at his smiling brother. "What the hell?" Although Sam was confused trying to work out in his head how Dean was standing in front of him very much alive, he couldn't help the huge smile that insisted on breaking out all over his face.

"Dude that is so my line," Dean smirked as he offered Sam a hand hauling him to his feet. He glanced down. "Guess I kinda made a mess," he poked at the blood-stained tabard wincing as his fingers caught the wound that was still obviously present. Dean frowned not really remembering what had happened. He had a vague memory of an agonising pain and Sam's voice and gentle touch. Then there had only been silence as the darkness had crept over him enveloping him in its nothingness. Then his mind was a complete blank until he had awoken to see Sam duelling with Pendragon. Dean shivered slightly. Thinking about what had happened hurt his head.

"Understatement," Sam rolled his eyes as he quickly bent down gathering up the swords heaping them in a pile at their feet. He chose a weapon for himself and pointed it towards the Knights.

"Hey," Dean bent down retrieving Excalibur. He replaced it in the scabbard on his back. "I just knew you could touch Excalibur," Dean said. "I knew it," he bounced slightly on his feet.

Sam shrugged. "May be," he murmured although couldn't help giving his brother a small smile back. Touching Excalibur allayed some of his fears and deep inside Sam knew he could never turn evil. He also recognised that the doubts would nag at him every now and again but knew he could always rely on Dean and his strong belief. It made him feel warm inside, not that he would ever admit it to his brother.

"Now what geek boy?" Dean asked giving his brother another of this trade-mark smirks. He braced his arm across his chest trying to relieve the ache in his shoulder and now his side.

"I don't..... don't know," Sam bit at his lip unsure. "I think when the rock salt hit Mordred his body separated from Pendragon for a second ..... but I'm not sure," he bit at his lips again. "I was too busy looking at my back-from-the-dead brother shooting at the bad guy."

"Takes a lot to kill Dean Winchester," Dean smirked at Sam.

"I see Mordred has been defeated," Merlin appeared from behind Dean.

"Damn," Dean jumped. "Do you have to keep doing that?" he snarled.

"My apologies," Merlin said his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But now we have to hurry," he said.

Sam folded his arms. "Not before you answer some questions," he looked towards Pendragon confident that the man was out for a while. "He isn't going anywhere for a while. We have time and you owe us answers."

"Not again," Dean sighed. "Sammy," he protested.

"No Dean," Sam jutted his chin out determined. "I want to know how I could touch Excalibur..... and .... and what happened to you. You died in my arms," he looked down kicking distractedly at the ground gritting his teeth against the tears that threatened. "And I want answers."

Merlin pursed his lips looking from one brother to the other and could see that even though the younger of the two was close to tears he had an aura of stubborn determination. Mind made up he took a deep breath. "Dean couldn't die from blood loss in battle while he was wearing Excalibur's scabbard. The wound is still there and I would imagine it's very painful," he looked towards Dean who gave a small nod. "But the blood loss and any damage done could never kill him," Merlin explained. "An extremely potent protection spell was woven into the leather by a powerful witch when it was fashioned. It was a gift to Arthur for saving her life."

"So that's one story on the internet that was true," Dean quipped with a smile. "Lucky for me," he rubbed absently at his side.

"And Excalibur?" Sam demanded.

Merlin sighed knowing that the younger man was not going to let him get away with not telling the truth. "You could always touch Excalibur. I lied."

"You lied?" Sam snapped horrified.

"I am truly sorry. The lie was never meant to hurt anyone," Merlin gave a small guilty nod sensing how important touching the sword had been to Sam. "I know how important it was to you."

"You don't know anything," Sam snapped. He was confused and angry and desperately wanted to hit out at something or somebody. And at the moment Merlin was on top of his list.

Dean moved nearer to his brother hoping that his being close would help calm his brother down. Sam shot him a warning look. Dean replied with a reassuring smile. Sam stared at Dean for a moment before rewarding him with a small smile. He turned back to Merlin glaring silently. "Merlin dude. I think you owe us one hell of an explanation for lying to us," Dean said as calmly as he could manage.

Merlin sighed. "Very well," he sighed again. "The sword isn't magical at all," Merlin admitted with a small shrug. "It's just a story that Arthur and I made up. You see my time is darker and more evil than your own time," he circled his hand in the air. " Full of wretched souls who are full of hate and despair. Our people needed something to hold on to, something to believe in. So we gave them Excalibur."

"I don't understand," Sam frowned. He could feel the anger draining out of him as it was replaced with a sense of hopelessness again. Dean's presence at his side, as usual, made him feel safe but his fears were growing inside him again and Sam rubbed absently at the healing burn on his arm. Dean noticed the movement and moved until their shoulders were touching slightly.

"The story grew and grew taking on a life of its own. People began to believe in Excalibur and its power believing it to be magical," Merlin continued. "Even the Knights of the Table believed in its powers. It represented unity and courage to them," Merlin explained. "And Excalibur represented hope for the people in Arthur's hands. He was a good man. A wise man. Excalibur represented his integrity. His goodness. And Mordred wanted it. Wanted to possess Excalibur and destroy everything that Arthur believed in."

"So because of the stories you and Arthur made up Mordred believed that he couldn't touch the sword," Dean said. "Because he was an evil dude."

Merlin nodded. "The power of suggestion is more powerful than any magic I could ever conjure. Excalibur and what it represented was safe as long as Mordred didn't discover its secret. Arthur had a vision. A dream. He wanted to leave a legacy. One of hope and valour. Excalibur embodied everything that Arthur and his Knights believed in. It was his greatest legacy. Pendragon's Legacy so to speak."

"And the blue light and electric shock thingy.... Pendragon showed us all that stuff," Sam said. "In the Round Table. He believed that the magic came from Excalibur."

"A simple spell to protect Excalibur from theft. And specifically to protect it from Mordred. Only he could be hurt by the blue light," Merlin chuckled. "And the magic was in the Round Table not Excalibur. We let the Knights believe it came from the sword."

"Oh," Sam couldn't help the stab of disappointment and his earlier excitement and relief slowly faded within him. He knew it was stupid but he had hoped that holding Excalibur meant and proved that he wasn't evil or destined to become evil. Knowing that Excalibur didn't predict or prove that the bearer was evil was a bitter pill to swallow and Sam could feel his doubts swirling around in his mind again. He stared down at the ground silently.

Dean glanced at his brother knowing exactly what Sam was thinking. He sighed. Sometimes Sam was so easy to read and the doubt and fear was written all across his face. "So what now?" he asked trying to change the subject in order to distract Sam from his morose thoughts about becoming evil. "How do we get rid of Mordred once and for all?"

Merlin nodded at Sam. "Sam told me he thought that the amulets and the medallion were the key to destroying Mordred's power and hold," he said. "And I think he's right."

"You do?" Sam said looking up at Merlin surprised.

"Geek boy strikes again," Dean teased nudging Sam's shoulder but there was an underlying affection in his tone.

"I do," Merlin responded with a nod.

"By the way how can you be here.... you know in the flesh?" Sam asked suddenly curious. "You said it was dangerous for you to be here. That Mordred could trap you."

Merlin sighed in frustration. "I felt Mordred's power diminish. Whatever you did to him," he waved a hand at Pendragon's still prone form. "Took away his control. His power. It allowed me to come here."

"Rock salt," Dean explained. "Hurts like a bitch," he gave a small grin.

Merlin nodded smiling back at Dean. "But now we have to hurry as I don't know how long his diminished power will last."

"But," Sam started to say.

"No buts," Merlin interrupted. "We have to hurry," he turned his back and started to march towards the castle. He sensed he wasn't being followed and turned back towards the brothers to note that they hadn't moved and were just staring at him. He sighed in annoyance. "Well come on. Don't just stand there. We haven't got all day. Spells to cast. Spells to break. Evil to dispatch back to where it came from," he snapped impatiently waving his hand in the air. "And it'll work better if we destroy everything together in the seat of his power. The Knights' Hall." Merlin pointed a wizened finger at the still unconscious Pendragon. "And bring that with you," he ordered as he turned and disappeared into the castle.

Dean shrugged watching Merlin's disappearing back. "Guess that means we're hauling his heavy ass," he glanced at Sam bracing his arm across his chest. He cocked his head to one side. "My shoulder still hurts," Dean said adopting the best hurt and pathetic expression he could muster from his repertoire.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's obvious posturing. "Well wave your shotgun at them," Sam said exasperated pointing at the Knights still standing by the fencing. "And get them to carry his ass," he smirked.

"Dude. I knew I kept you around for a reason," Dean smiled.

"I'm glad you're OK," Sam couldn't help mumbling.

"Sammy man. No chick flick moments allowed," Dean said with a grin. "We're Knights you know. Merlin said so," he grinned again as he pointed his shotgun at the Knights and started to shout orders at them.

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-06-04T14:58:18Z

Chapter Seven

Sir Dean

You have an hour echoed in Dean's mind taunting him as he scrabbled through his bag frantically searching for his favourite shotgun. T-shirts, shirts and jeans flew up in the air dropping to the floor in an untidy heap as he dug into the bag. Dean couldn't stop his hands shaking. He knew the gun was at the bottom of the bag, had put it there himself but his worry and anxiety over Sam was making him all fingers and thumbs. "Calm the hell down," Dean chastised himself clinging to the hope that Pendragon hadn't as yet touched his brother but the sound of the whip cracking had frightened him more than he cared to admit to himself. The sound had made him feel sick to his stomach and he had slumped onto the bed for a couple of minutes battling to calm the panic and fear that had threatened to choke him. "Hang on Sammy," he whispered to himself. "I'm coming."

The sweater Sam had bought him for his birthday flew across the bed as Dean's fingers finally curled around the familiar grip of his shotgun. "At last," he breathed as he pulled the gun from the depths of the bag. He grabbed some ammunition not really sure if the rock salt bullets would work on Pendragon. His shaking hands forced two bullets into the chamber of the gun. Snapping the shot gun closed Dean spun around. His mouth dropped open in surprise as he came face to face with Merlin who gave him a small smile.

Dean started despite himself. So engrossed in his search and his barely controlled panic he hadn't heard the old man come up behind him. "What the hell?" he growled. "Give me a heart attack why don't you."

"I'm sorry Dean," Merlin smirked giving a small bow. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"So I'm just plain old Dean now ......... not your precious Sir Bedivere," Dean noted with a wry smile. "Guess that makes Sammy just plain Sammy..... and not Sir Galahad." Dean sighed in exasperation. "I wish you'd make your damn mind up."

Merlin scowled. "I was confused. I have been asleep for a long long time," he defended with a sniff. "But my mind is perfectly clear now," he smiled knowingly drawing himself up to his full height. "And I stand by what I have said. I know that you have the heart and soul of a Knight....... Dean Winchester. And that goes for your younger brother too whatever he himself believes."

Dean shot the older man a hard look. "Whatever," he said dismissively. "But I'm kinda busy right now," he waved the shotgun in the old man's face.

Merlin ignored the shotgun. "You have Excalibur," he smiled happily having noted it still slung across the younger man's back.

Dean pulled a face as he tried to get around Merlin towards the door. "Yeah," he answered. "And I need it to save Sammy's ass."

Merlin frowned. "I don't understand," he looked around the room. "Where is the young whipper-snapper any way?"

"Mordred.... Pendragon... or whatever the hell he calls himself has him," Dean snapped not able to disguise the worry in this tone. "And if I don't get there with this," he indicated the sword on his back. "Your friend Mordred is gonna hurt him. And I'm guessing he don't make idle threats."

"No he doesn't," Merlin agreed. "But you can't let Excalibur fall into Mordred's hands," he protested putting his hands against Dean's chest.

"Don't," Dean glared angrily looking down at the hands on his chest. "And anyway didn't you said he can't touch the damn thing because of the whole evil thing he has going on."

Merlin gave a small nod. "But given time Mordred could unlock the protection," he argued. "It's important......," he started to say.

"Nothing is more important than Sam," Dean interrupted stopping Merlin mid sentence. "Not your Knights. Not your Arthur and his chivalry. Not even your damn Excalibur." He leant forward. "Nothing," he repeated. "Sam and me are all we got... and if I have to give the bad guy the sword to protect him I will," he snapped. "Now take your hands off me," Dean lowered his voice dangerously. "And get outta my way."

Merlin stared at the younger man watching as a thousand different and warring emotions flashed in the greenness of his eyes. He sensed the anger and fear emanating from Dean, knew the reason for it and deep down wanted to help the young man. Merlin knew he was right. Dean had the heart and soul of a Knight and a warrior. He had seen the same earnest and desperate look in a thousand good Knights a thousand times before. It made his mind up. "If you are insistent in going into battle with Mordred," he said exasperated. "You will need this," Merlin pointed a finger towards the chair in the corner of the room.

"You're kidding right?" Dean stared at the chair to see a chain mail suit exactly like the one Pendragon and his Knights wore. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before and shook his head dismissing the thought almost immediately as images of Sam being flayed popped into his head. "We haven't got time for playing dress up," he tried to push past Merlin again to get to the door.

Merlin put a wizened hand on Dean's chest again pressing lightly. "Then make time," he said firmly and determined. "It could save your life and that of your brother."

Dean regarded the old man for a moment. Merlin stared back not flinching from Dean's angry stare. Dean blew out a long suffering sigh sensing that this was one staring match he wasn't going to win. "I don't believe I'm listening to you," Dean struggled with the scabbard throwing Excalibur carelessly onto the bed and snatching the suit from the chair. He stomped angrily into the bathroom muttering under his breath.

"I feel and look stupid," Dean sulked as he re-appeared from the bathroom five minutes later fixing the leather bands around his wrists tightly. "I look like tin man's poor relation," Dean stomped around the room flexing his arms and legs trying to get used to the feel of the armour. "All we need is Dorothy and we're off to see the wizard," he quipped. The suit was surprisingly light but it felt strange and uncomfortable. Dean cautiously rolled his injured shoulder. He had kept his t-shirt on under the suit to help pad his shoulder but the pressure and weight of the suit made it ache even more and he was tempted to swallow some pain killers but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Sam needed him and he needed a clear head.

"Perfect," Merlin said looking Dean up and down. Dean shifted from foot to foot uncomfortable with the appraisal. "But who is this tin man and Dorothy?" Merlin asked frowning as he moved towards Dean. "Can they help?"

"Never mind," Dean gave the older man a lopsided smile. "We have the wizard. That will have to do."

Merlin frowned again. Before Dean could utter a protest Merlin placed a white tabard over Dean's head securing it with a leather belt and matching scabbard around his waist. "The insignia of Sir Bedivere," Merlin explained at Dean's silent question. "I thought that it was only right that you wore it. And I know that he would be honoured that you wore his insignia into battle."

"Ohh," Dean couldn't think of anything else to say as he looked down at the tabard. He looked up at Merlin. "But I still look kinda stupid."

"Boots," Merlin huffed ignoring the younger man's protests.

Dean shook his head. "I'll wear my own," he eyed the uncomfortable looking metal ones leaning against the chair. Sitting down he quickly pulled on his biker boots lacing them quickly and stuffing the small dagger down the side of his right boot. Standing up Dean grabbed Excalibur and slung the scabbard and the sword over his back again. Before Merlin could protest he grabbed his shotgun and jammed it into the scabbard at his side. It didn't really fit but Dean decided that it would do. Dean grinned at Merlin and shrugged into his leather jacket stuffing more rock salt rounds into his pocket. "Now we're ready to kick some medieval ass," he marched towards the door. Dean turned to ask if Merlin was coming to find that the older man had disappeared. "How the hell does he do that?" Dean huffed as he wrenched the door open and crept down the hotel corridor not wanting to be seen wearing the Knight's clothing.

Sam shivered. He pulled at the ropes again but only succeeded in chaffing his wrists some more. It had been forty-five minutes since he had been tied up and the cool breeze whipped at his naked skin making him shiver again. Sam chanced a look over his shoulder. Pendragon had disappeared leaving his men watching him. He noticed that the other four Knights were now armed. Maleagant caught his eye and grinned as he stroked the nasty looking leather whip in his hand. Sam closed his eyes turning away. He swallowed and could hear his heart thudding in his chest. "Dean," he whispered to himself. "Now would be a good time."

"He's coming," a soft voice said in his ear. Sam snapped his eyes open to find himself staring at a smiling Merlin. He had a real urge to be irritated at the older man but all he felt was a sense of relief. He was no longer alone.

"Sam," Merlin whispered.

"So I'm just plain old Sam now," Sam snapped immediately irritated again. "Not your Sir Galahad. I wish you'd make up your mind."

Merlin chuckled softly. "Your brother said the very same thing to me," he cocked his head to one side. "You must know each other very well. Know what the other is thinking. And as I told your brother... I was confused then but I am now in full possession of all my faculties and senses," he gave a small bow. "And you may not be Galahad or Bedivere.... but you are both Knights in your own right." Merlin gave Sam a knowing smile.

Sam ignored Merlin trying not to roll his eyes in frustration. For some reason he would never be able to explain Sam still didn't one hundred percent trust the older man and admitted reluctantly to himself that it probably had something do with Merlin's demonic heritage. Sam pushed down all his mistrust. "How did you get here?" he asked instead casting a nervous glance over his shoulders.

Merlin noticed the look. "Oh don't worry about those fools," he reassured with another smile. "They can't see me. Blind fools."

"What?" Sam hissed disbelievingly. He found his irritation building again at the man's smugness.

"They can't see me," Merlin repeated with a roll of his eyes. "Just a little trick of mine perfected over many many years," he boasted. "But I can't stay long. They will sense me eventually. It is a curse that I and the Knights live with. One we must all bear."

"Cut me down," Sam said wiggling his wrists impatiently.

"I can't," Merlin said apologetically.

"Then why are you here?" Sam snapped annoyed. He pulled on his restraints again thinking that if his wrists weren't tied he would have a hard job resisting strangling the older man in frustration. He could feel his mistrust building inside him. Sam forced his feelings of frustration out of his mind and glared at Merlin instead.

Merlin smiled at him again and Sam really wished that his hands were free from their restraints. "Mordred was correct in saying that I couldn't come here without being trapped because he's using some kind of powerful magic. Magic we need to break. But I'm cleverer than he thinks," he bragged.

Sam frowned screwing his face up in thought. "You've projected yourself here," he guessed correctly. "You're not really here."

Merlin cocked his head to one side surprised that the young man had guessed. "Correct," he answered simply. "And until Mordred's control is destroyed I can't risk my flesh body coming here. I would be trapped like the other Knights by Mordred's magic."

"So you came here because?" Sam couldn't help asking with another frown.

"I guessed that you would need reassurance that Dean had not forsaken you," Merlin replied. "Although I doubt that you really believe in your heart that he would ever leave you. Your bond is strong. I can sense it. It surrounds you both and would be extremely hard to break," he said.

Even though he was frustrated Sam gave his own small understanding nod. "I think we can send Mordred back to wherever he came from," Sam whispered. "I'm not sure exactly..... but I think it has something to do with the medallion he wears and the tattoo he has on his neck. They're the same... and they look like the one on the ceiling of the Knight's Hall."

Merlin nodded. "May be," he agreed. "Nimue may have taught him binding spells using powerful symbols. It was common magic in my time and Nimue's favourite kind of magic."

Sam cast a cautious look over his shoulder again. The Knights were ignoring him for the moment. He looked back to Merlin. "He's also wearing all the amulets from the Knights that he hasn't released. Perhaps that's how he's keeping them trapped... that and the binding spells he has around their shields."

"You could be right," Merlin mused lost in thought. "I think you need to get the medallion and amulets away from Mordred and then destroy his tattoo somehow. Thus destroying his link to the binding spells he has conjured."

"Sounds easy when you say it quick," Sam whispered as another shiver wracked his body.

Merlin gave a small chuckle as his body shimmered slightly. "I must leave now," he said looking towards the Knights who now seemed to be looking his way. Merlin guessed they were beginning to sense his presence.

"Don't go," Sam begged. He didn't really want to be alone. His time was running out and he was afraid. Merlin was right - he knew, deep down, that Dean would come. Dean was always there for him, had been there for him his whole life, whatever the risk to his own health and life and whatever hurt Sam had caused him in the past. But Sam's inner fear and the guilt at shooting Dean surfaced without warning threatening to overwhelm him again. He trembled despite himself and doubts bombarded him swirling around in his mind making his head pound with pain. He pulled at the bindings frantically cursing as the rope burned into his sore and reddened wrists. Sam cast desperate eyes towards Merlin. "Please," he mouthed.

"Don't be afraid Sam," Merlin said soothingly wishing he could touch the younger man. He sensed that Sam was doubting himself, doubting his brother. "Your brother will be here soon," he assured softly smiling. "You have a Guardian protecting you. And Guardians are a special type of Knight. Sir Bedivere was a Guardian. May be that's why... never mind," Merlin waved his hand in the air. "I told Dean that he had a heart and soul of a Knight. He didn't really believe me. He is really a very strange man," Merlin mused before turning his attention back to Sam. "But I believe I was right."

"I believe in Dean," Sam murmured as he remembered his brother's heartfelt words hurled at him in anger and despair. Dean believed in him and he believed in Dean. It was that simple. They believed in each other, had always believed in each other. It made them strong and a force to be reckoned with.

"I know he will never let you down," Merlin said. "And so do you."

Sam looked at Merlin hard searching his face and expression for any hint of a lie or untruth but found none. He gave Merlin a small lopsided smile despite his situation. "I know," he nodded his head. "I've always known."

"Believe," Merlin said mysteriously and disappeared in a swathe of soft light which made Sam blink several times wondering if he had dreamed Merlin being there. He closed his eyes trying to work out what had happened mulling over all the possibilities in his mind an formulating a possible plan to defeat Mordred. Sam was startled out of his reverie by a hard stinging slap to his face.

Sam snapped his eyes open to find Pendragon towering over him glaring angrily. "That fool Merlin was here," he accused slapping Sam again. "I can feel him. Sense his stink." Sam glared silently up at Pendragon. He licked the blood away from his lips never taking his eyes off the older man. Pendragon stooped and slapped him again and Sam couldn't help cry out as the movement jogged his abused wrists.

Pendragon raised his hand again and Sam closed his eyes. The stinging pain of the slap didn't come and relief washed through Sam's body as a familiar voice echoed around the small enclosed area. "Leave him the hell alone," Dean shouted. "I've got what you want," he drew Excalibur from the scabbard on his back up over his head holding it in his hand tightly. The blade glinted golden as the floodlights reflected the lethally sharpened edges of the sword.

Pendragon straightened up and glared towards Dean. He looked back to Sam. "See Sammy. You thought he wouldn't come for you," he crowed as he stepped up to Maleagant and snatched the whip from his hands.

"It's Sam," Sam snapped defiantly. "Only Dean gets to call me Sammy." He looked towards his brother and despite his dire situation bit at his lips to suppress the giggle when he saw Dean dressed in Knight's garb, complete with his own obvious additions of a leather jacket and his favourite biker boots. Not exactly a Knight of medieval times but just....well just so Dean," Sam thought to himself.

Pendragon laughed loudly at Sam's defiance caressing the leather of the whip. He turned away to concentrate his efforts on Dean. "Dean," he said smoothly moving forwards. "Sammy here," he turned back to Sam with a chuckle and a small bow. "My apologies……. Sam here thought you wouldn't come back for him but I knew you would. I have half brothers myself," he started to say.

"I would never have taken you for a family man," Dean snapped sarcastically. "You don't seem the type."

"You have misjudged me…… I'm crushed," Pendragon retorted with a huge grin. "Agravaine over there," he pointed at the tall dark-haired Knight. "Is my half brother. So loyal to me. Would do anything for me."

"And what about your other brothers? Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth?" Sam asked.

"My my you have done your homework. I'm flattered," Pendragon baited spinning around to glare at Sam. "Sadly they chose to pledge their allegiance to Arthur and the other Knights. And not to me their brother so I had to leave them behind. Fools. They could have shared in all this," he gestured around him.

Dean snorted as he continued to move towards Sam. "As I said…… not the family type."

"But you are," Pendragon smiled evilly. "Your weakness is your brother. You know it. I know it. And Sam knows it. And it will be your undoing."

"You don't know anything about me or my brother," Dean snapped as he circled cautiously around the edge of the area, avoiding the other Knights and Pendragon himself. He kept Excalibur firmly in his hand, his arm outstretched, pointing the sword towards Pendragon instinctively knowing that the older man wouldn't touch him as long as he had Excalibur. Dean could see the veiled fear in Pendragon's eyes as he waved the sword at him. "So cut the crap." Dean edged towards his brother slowly.

Pendragon folded his arms and watched silently. He nodded towards his Knights signalling them to keep back having decided to deal with the insolent young man himself. "So ill-mannered and peasant like," Pendragon sniffed scornfully. "And you dare to wear the insignia of a Knight."

Dean shrugged. "You do…… so I figured it was OK," he quipped nodding his head to Pendragon's own insignia and armour.

Pendragon raised an eye brow ignoring the obvious insult. He continued to caress the whip idly. "You can have your brother. But I want Excalibur. Now," he demanded with a scowl.

"Sam first," Dean said as he finally reached his brother. He reached down not taking his eyes off Pendragon and retrieved the knife from his boot. "You OK Sammy?" Dean asked as he skilfully cut one of Sam's wrists free. He offered the knife to his brother turning his full attention back to Pendragon.

"Yeah," Sam sighed in relief as he took the knife and cut through the rope securing his other wrist. "I am now." Sam rubbed at his reddened wrists trying to relieve the pain as his eyes searched around for his clothes that had been thrown to one side.

"Excalibur?" Pendragon demanded again.

"Dean," Sam protested. "You can't give it to him."

Dean ignored Sam turning his back on his brother and facing Pendragon. "Here. Catch," he tossed the sword up into the air knowing that the older man wouldn't risk catching it but he could plainly see the greed and victory reflected in Pendragon's eyes. Dean's first priority had been, and always would be, freeing Sam even though it didn't sit well with him giving Excalibur to Pendragon. He hadn't really thought about protecting the sword from Pendragon and he just hoped that something would come to mind - it usually did. Dean stared at the sword and the perfect roll and pitch as it sailed gracefully through the air.

Time seemed to stand still as Excalibur spun over and over in mid-air hurtling towards Pendragon. The floodlights highlighted the sharpened blade and yellow and gold light seemed to emanate and spark outwards from the blade as Excalibur rotated over and over in the air. Pendragon took a nervous step backwards as the sword began to fall to the ground, a foot from where he was standing. The lethal tip drove into the ground firmly. With the blade glinting in the flood lights Excalibur wobbled back and forth as it slowly stilled.

It all happened so fast. Pendragon looked at the sword for a moment before looking up at Dean. He narrowed his eyes and murder glistened in the dark depths as he lifted his arm cracking the whip hard against the ground making Dean start despite himself. Without warning Pendragon flexed his right arm and hand and brought the whip up. With a sharp flick of his hand the weapon cracked again and the leather of the whip snaked outwards hitting Sam across his naked back as he was bending to retrieve his t-shirt and sweater. Blood immediately sprang to the surface along the whip mark staining his pale skin bright red.

Sam cried out in agony and collapsed to the floor clutching at his t-shirt. Tears sprung to his eyes as the agony in his back washed through his whole being. His skin felt like it was on fire burning in agony and Sam couldn't help a whimper escaping. He rolled slightly trying to ease the stinging ache wrapping his arms around himself. He couldn't get up, couldn't catch his breath or speak. The pain was excruciating and he panted breathing through his nose. "Dean," Sam managed to force out eventually.

Dean looked back at Sam in shock. His brother had his eyes squeezed shut and was whimpering. He turned back towards Pendragon and stared at the man who had hurt his brother. Dean was torn. Torn between rushing to Sam's side and hurting Pendragon. His mind battled with the indecision and his feet moved slightly. Another whimper from Sam fuelled the anger consuming him and white hot rage surged through Dean's body making his skin prickle with electricity and fury. Pendragon smirked at him triumphantly and Dean lost his fragile control of his anger and his indecision vanished.

"You bastard," Dean screamed lunging forwards. In his anger Dean forgot that he had brought his shotgun with him and his sudden movement jolted it out of the scabbard. It hit the ground with a clunk. Catching Agravaine by surprise Dean back-handed the Knight shoving him roughly to the ground as he snatched his sword. Angrily Dean leapt forwards. "I gave you Excalibur," he screamed as he thrust his blade at Pendragon. "You didn't have to hurt him."

The other Knights made a move towards Dean swords drawn. Dean ignored them continuing to advance on Pendragon. "Stay back," Pendragon ordered. "He's mine. Hold his brother," he shouted as he drew his sword advancing on Dean.

Blind rage drove Dean and he lashed out with the sword in a "cut and thrust" motion that he had learned from a fencing master. Surprised at Dean's proficiency Pendragon jumped back narrowly avoiding the sharpened edge of the blade. "I knew he was your weakness," he goaded still confident that he could beat the younger man. "Now he will be your downfall," he said as his sword clashed noisily parrying Dean's initial attack.

Dean drew back slightly before jabbing his sword at Pendragon. Pendragon sprang forwards sword arm outstretched and one leg in front of the other in perfect balance learned over many years in battle. He brought the sword downwards slashing at Dean's chest. Dean stumbled backwards managing to fend off the attack by bringing his sword upwards and blocking the attack on Pendragon's downward stroke. Dean lashed out wildly again with his sword missing his target completely.

Pendragon laughed driving Dean backwards with his sword. Dean didn't hear the laugh or Sam's pleading for him to stop. Dean was lost in his rage intent only in his quest to hurt Pendragon for the beating Sam had received. Dean backed up regaining his balance and then confidently warded off Pendragon's every attack. The hardened steel of the two blades clashed together over and over producing sparks as the two men fought desperately for the upper hand. They circled around one another trying to take the other's blade in fast circular movements. Sword movements were blocked and parried high and low as the well-matched men fought on neither willing to yield to the other.

Pendragon moved quickly forwards and stabbed wildly at Dean trying to run him through with his blade. Dean dodged out of range then quickly and unexpectedly surged forwards towards his enemy. Dean rotated his sword in his grip flexing his wrist slightly and slashed at Pendragon cutting him across the forearm. Pendragon hadn't expected the move. He cried out and stumbled backwards holding onto his arm. He glared at Dean for a moment. Pendragon waved his Knights away as the men started towards Dean again.

The startled cry from Pendragon jolted Dean out of his blind rage bringing him back to himself and the reality of the situation. His anger immediately dissipated and it suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't fighting Mordred but a possessed body, an innocent businessman. The chain mail afforded them some protection but the weight of the swords coupled with the lethally sharpened edges of the blades seemed to be able to break through the armour if enough force was used. As much as Dean wanted to kill Pendragon for hurting Sam he knew that he couldn't chance fatally wounding the innocent possessed body. It was sobering thought and Dean sighed to himself. He glared back at Pendragon with every ounce of defiance and contempt he could muster.

Pendragon moved back towards Dean and the two men stood facing each other swords extended tips of blades slightly touching. "I'm going to kill you Guardian," Pendragon threatened nastily baring his teeth. Without warning the older man kicked out catching Dean on the shin. Surprised at the move Dean yelped and stumbled falling to the ground his sword still tightly clutched in his hand. Pendragon laughed loudly. He followed through with a sharp kick to Dean's wounded shoulder. Dean cried out again but never dropped his sword as the pain lanced through his body. He desperately scrabbled backwards away from Pendragon's blade and foot. Dean attempted to pull himself to his feet but his legs gave way and he hit the ground again. His shoulder was on fire but Dean was grimly determined. Clenching his teeth Dean struggled to his feet. Pendragon immediately advanced on him and Dean retreated desperately trying to disarm Pendragon without cutting him with the blade.

Pendragon took advantage of Dean's changed fighting tactics ruthlessly driving him backwards towards the wooden fence-like structure jabbing and thrusting with his blade never letting up on the onslaught. Dean valiantly parried every thrust and jab with his sword but found himself being driven backwards despite all attempts to move forwards. Dean was tired, his shoulder ached and his legs felt like lead but he grimly fought on trying to move to the side to escape. Pendragon used his height advantage and lavishly theatrical side to side slashing movements with his blade herding Dean slowly towards the fencing.

His back hit the fencing stopping Dean. He positioned his sword in a defensive stance protecting himself as Pendragon stepped closer and closer. As if sensing victory the older man grinned manically. The grin spurred Dean into action and he shifted slightly grabbing Pendragon's sword arm in a risky movement forcing both swords upwards. Dean grunted as they pushed against one another trying to get the upper hand. Pendragon was stronger but Dean was doggedly determined and he managed to shove Pendragon away from him. Sword arms still interlinked and straining against one another they struggled turning round and round glaring at each other. Dean thought he heard Sam scream something before he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his right side. He felt something twist in him and pain tore through him taking his breath away. He grunted in pain and glanced down. Blood was pumping out of his side already reddening the white tabard he wore. Dean felt dizzy and he released his hold of Pendragon who stepped back holding a blood stained dagger in his free hand. He laughed loudly and rammed the knife into the top of the wooden fence with another laugh.

Dropping his sword to the ground Dean clutched at his side. Dean felt sick and dizzy and the world insisted on tilting sideways. He gritted his teeth against the fiery agony in his side. Dean thought he could hear Sam screaming his name as it went blurry and his legs buckled. He dropped to his knees and fell forwards still clutching at his side. Dean vaguely felt arms around him as his world suddenly went black and he surrendered to the dark abyss.

"Dean," Sam screamed as he wrestled out of the hold of the two Knights restraining him. He ignored the pain in his own back as he raced to his brother's side. Dropping to his knees Sam pulled Dean into his arms cradling him gently. Dean's face was deathly pale, all colour drained, and Sam could hardly feel his brother breathing against his own body. He quickly glanced up and down Dean's body immediately spotting the bright red blood flowing freely from a wound in Dean's right side.

Sam pressed his hand down on the wound and watched horrified as the blood seeped through his fingers staining his skin red. It was as though Dean's life was pumping out through his fingers. "Dean," he murmured. "Please," Sam begged as he felt his tears running down his face unchecked. Dean coughed and Sam could hear a wet gurgling sound in his chest. A small trickle of blood escaped from Dean's lips and he coughed again. Sam pressed harder on the wound eliciting a pained moan from Dean.

Sam could hear Pendragon and his men laughing and congratulating themselves on their victory somewhere in the background but he ignored the cruel sounds, blocking them out, concentrating all his efforts on his brother. Focussing on the sounds of his brother dying in his arms. Sam could almost feel Dean slowly slipping away from him. Dean snapped his eyes open and Sam could see the pain and fear reflected in the greenness. Dean stared up at Sam grabbing hold of Sam's sleeve and hanging on tightly. "It's OK," Sam soothed. "Sssshhhh. It's OK," he whispered swiping at his tears with one hand.

"Don't," Dean murmured. Sam could see his brother's eyes dulling as his life force faded. Dean's eyes closed slowly and his grip on Sam's sleeve gradually loosened until his hand fell away completely.

Sam's mind screamed silently in despair, loss and grief as Dean's body relaxed in his arms. He buried his head in Dean's chest hugging his brother's limp body tightly. Sam lifted his head up and screamed out his sorrow and pain. The sound of the scream echoed around the area bouncing off the ancient walls. Crying Sam leant back down over Dean hugging him close silently pleading for his brother to come back to him.

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-06-01T13:02:41Z

Chapter Six

Escape and Capture

Sam and Dean burst out of the door relieved to find that the corridor led into the centre of the theme park. The theme park, now long closed to the public, was lit up by floodlights giving it an eerie and unearthly feel as the roller coasters and other amusement rides loomed up silently into the darkened sky. The tubular steel of the rides appeared luminescent in the glowing floodlights casting large dark shadows across the buildings and ground. The park itself was eerily silent except for the sound of the wind whistling through the trees and the creaking of the huge structures.

Sam and Dean hurried through the theme park their own silhouettes casting long shadows as they ran side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Sam could feel himself slowly calming down as he jogged alongside his brother, the wild panic and fear slowly draining away as he listened to his brother's familiar breathing as they dodged around buildings and amusement rides. For as long as Sam could remember Dean had been a calming influence on him, made him feel safe - drove him nuts most of the time - but always made him feel safe. Sam glanced sideways at Dean. His brother had pulled the scabbard over one shoulder and Excalibur now hung comfortably and secure down his back as though it belonged there. "Thanks," he whispered. "For....," he jerked his head towards Dean's back and the sword. "Well you know," he stammered.

Dean glanced sideways giving a small shrug. "Didn't want you cutting yourself geek boy," he teased. "I know what you're like with blades.... dude I've seen you after you've had a shave."

Sam couldn't help scowling in protest at the teasing but recognised it for what it was. Dean smirked at him and Sam couldn't help his scowl turning to a small smile. "What now?" he huffed.

Dean smirked slightly again. "Beats the hell outta me," he replied. "Guess we're in trouble.... again," Dean shrugged.

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile still gracing his lips. "State the obvious dude," he teased.

"You can always rely on me man," Dean retorted with a small snort.

"I know," Sam whispered more to himself than Dean as his brother reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve pulling him behind a large green bush in front of Guinevere. "What?" Sam snapped annoyed as Dean encouraged him down onto the ground.

"Sssshhhh," Dean hissed as he peered around the bush. "Hear that?" he nodded his head forwards slightly.

Sam pulled a face but leant forwards slightly. The silence that had surrounded them since their escape was fading quickly and being replaced with the clatter of metallic boots pounding the ground, coming closer and closer. "Mordred's men?" Sam questioned cocking his head to one side listening trying to gauge what direction the men were heading.

"Probably," Dean pursed his lips into a scowl. "Let's hope they're not as smart as Mordred.... or Pendragon .... or whatever the hell he calls himself."

"Yeah right," Sam sighed. "Because we are always that lucky." Dean chuckled as he maintained his surveillance of the area around them. Sam recognised the familiar posture of his brother. Quiet, wary and alert Dean was listening and looking, his eyes and ears missing nothing - Dean was in full hunter mode. "Why do you suppose he wants Excalibur?" Sam asked. "It's like... well he's got all of Pendragon's fortune. That should give him enough power. He could buy anything he wants. But he wants Excalibur," Sam mused.

"May be you can't knock the medieval Knight outta someone," Dean replied cryptically as he continued scanning the area not dropping his guard or being distracted by Sam's questioning.

"What?" Sam hissed confused.

Dean sighed shooting a quick glance his brother's way. "Think about it Sammy. Money is OK and yeah he can have anything he wants. Buy anything he wants," he said. "But to Mordred ..... all round bad dude......once a medieval Knight always a medieval Knight."

"So Excalibur still means power to him," Sam said impressed with his brother's logic. "He has all this and more," he waved a hand in the air. "But it's Excalibur that he believes makes him ..... him better than Arthur?"

"Yeah I guess," Dean shrugged turning back to his vigil. "He was a Knight back then. Coveted what Arthur had and was.... and all these years later it's still what's important to him. He has Camelot. Now he wants Excalibur. It's like I said once a Knight...."

"Always a Knight," Sam interrupted. He frowned. "Do you think it's really that simple?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "The real bad dudes are rarely complicated or difficult to figure out. It's only geek boys like you that make it about something else. Make stuff all complicated."

Sam pulled a face at Dean which made his brother broaden his smile. "So I guess that means he wants it back at any cost... you know in simple terms," Sam couldn't help teasing.

Dean snorted. "Hell yeah," he gave a low chuckle.. "And we're standing in his way."

"Lucky us," Sam snorted. Suddenly Dean put his finger up to his lips. Sam was immediately silent listening immediately trusting his brother's well-honed instincts. Dean grabbed his arm and drew him back into the shadows. Close to their position they could hear the sound of hushed voices, a flurry of movement and metal scuffing on the gravel surface. Mordred's men were closing in on them slowly. They needed a plan.

"Any ideas?" Dean asked as he risked cautiously peeping around the bush they were hiding behind. Four Knights were standing in a line listening to snapped orders from Agravaine. Maleagant stood to one side casting his eyes around searching the area. The men were dressed in full regalia, their tunics bearing the insignia of Sir Mordred flapped gently in the slight breeze. Only Agravaine and Maleagant bore lethal looking swords in one hand and Dean sighed but noted that the other men didn't appear to be armed. "We're kinda out-numbered here," Dean noted with a wry grin at Sam. He flexed his shoulders wincing as the movement jarred his injured arm.

Sam noticed the movement but decided not to challenge Dean for the moment not wanting to risk an argument with his brother. "Where do you suppose he got the other men from?" Sam asked.

"All the Knights of the Table probably had men of their own," Dean surmised. "Perhaps Mordred tricked Nimue into saving them too."

"May be," Sam agreed. He scrunched up his face in thought for a moment. "I could distract them away from you," he started to say. "If Merlin is right we need to protect Excalibur... and that's down to you," he bit at his lip nervously.

"No way," Dean interrupted and Sam rolled his eyes at the predictability of the snapped words. "We're sticking together. Like always." Dean patted his back. "We have Excalibur and you have the gun."

"We can't risk killing one of them," Sam whispered. "They're possessed. They're just innocent men," he said quietly clutching at the gun in his hand. "Pawns that Mordred is using."

"I know. I know," Dean said as he tightened his grip on Sam's arm desperately wanting his brother close so that he could protect him. "Damn. Damn," he muttered under his breath.

Sam blew out a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. "You can come save my ass when you've got more fire power," he said suddenly leaping to his feet jerking forcefully away from Dean's hold on his arm. "Run Dean," he shouted as he headed towards Mordred's men. "And don't you damn well look back. I'll be OK."

"Sammy," Dean yelled as he watched his brother run straight towards the group of men shouting at the top of his voice. "Sammy," he yelled again but knew that his stubborn brother wasn't listening. Dean grit his teeth as he watched his brother using the element of surprise to take down the first Knight with a vicious kick to the lower leg and a hard shove. As the second Knight went down with a punch Dean closed his eyes and turned his back forcing his legs to run in the opposite direction. "I am so kicking your ass," Dean muttered to himself as he headed back towards the hotel and their weapons. His legs felt like lead, his shoulder was aching again and his stomach was churning with the thought of leaving Sam behind and he had to resist the strong urge to turn back several times. Dean took deep calming breaths and encouraged himself onwards deciding that the quicker he got back to the hotel and their weapons the quicker he could get back to Sam. Leaving his brother was so alien to him and went against everything that he had been taught since the age of four. Sam was his responsibility, his little brother, and it was his job to take care of him no matter what the consequences. As he neared the hotel Dean reluctantly admitted to himself that Sam was right, not that he would ever admit it to his brother. They needed more fire power. But the fact that Dean admitted that Sam was right didn't stop him offering up a small prayer to whoever was listening asking them to protect his brother until he could get back to him.

Sam ran as fast as he could shouting at the top of his voice hoping that it would distract the Knights enough to at least use the element of surprise to bring a couple of them down. He could hear Dean screaming his name but ignored the sound concentrating on what he was doing. He tucked the gun in the back of his jeans as he charged the Knights not wanting to kill any of the innocent possessed men.

He hadn't really thought it through properly and Sam knew that he was being uncharacteristically impulsive and undoubtedly irresponsible but he felt that he owed Dean this. He wanted to help in some way and making himself the distraction so his brother could escape had been the best plan he could come up with at short notice, even though running through a group of medieval Knights hadn't been top of his list of things to do that morning. Nagging at the back of his mind was the thought that it was also his way of proving to Dean, and himself, that he wasn't evil but at the same time the little voice in his head was telling him that he had nothing to prove to either his brother or himself. Sam shook his head to clear his muddled mind. He needed to concentrate.

Sam daren't look back and hoped that Dean hadn't been his usual stubborn self and had actually done what he was told for the first time in his life and taken off in the other direction. They needed more fire power and Dean was the man to get it and at the same time protect Excalibur from Mordred. He also knew that Dean would kick his ass for him and smiled to himself deciding to deal with his brother's anger when they weren't in the middle of fighting medieval Knights.

He shouted loud again and rushed the Knight nearest to him. Without thinking Sam kicked out catching the man on his lower leg. Bringing up his arms he shoved hard with both hands as the man squealed in pain knocking him to the ground. Turning slightly to his right Sam thrust his curled up fist into the face of the second Knight. He felt his hand connect with the man's nose and grinned in satisfaction as the force of his blow unbalanced his opponent making him drop to the ground in a undignified heap.

Sam heard Agravaine's voice screaming orders and he sensed that his advantage was fast running out. He swung to his left hoping to catch the third Knight off balance only to feel a fist connect with his stomach making him hunch over. Sam groaned in pain as the wind was knocked out of him momentarily. He huffed out a breath trying to drag a breathe into his lungs. A second punch to his lower back and kick to own shin leg nearly over-balanced him but Sam managed to stay on his feet and wildly and blindly swung out with both arms and hands. He tried to make a run for it but he was out-numbered and felt hands from all sides fall on him grabbing and clutching at his arms and jacket sleeves. Sam desperately tried to wrestle out of the grasp of the hands that were trying to force him to the ground. He kicked out desperately with his right leg and felt it connect hard with a shin bone. Sam couldn't help another satisfied smirk as he heard a strangled yelp and one hand loosen its grasp of his body.

He had expected it and Sam knew that he was slowly losing the battle as he was forced roughly to the ground. He yelped as his knees hit the ground hard but continued to struggle and fight against his captors. Two hands shoved him hard and he collapsed onto his stomach just managing to keep his head from hitting the hard ground as he found himself laying out-stretched. One of the Knights sat on his legs restraining him from kicking outwards. He wriggled furiously from side to side still desperately trying to escape but his arms were pulled cruelly behind his back. Sam cried out in pain and turned his head to the side gritting his teeth at the agony in his shoulders and upper arms. He stopped struggling not wanting his arms pulled out of their sockets. "Get the hell off me," he yelled knowing that his plea would be ignored but it made him feel better. Sam blinked and out of the corner of his eye saw a boot coming towards his head. Despite the pain in his arms he tried to squirm out of the way. The boot connected with the side of his head and Sam saw stars as the pain exploded in his skull. "Dean," he murmured as he felt the approaching darkness trying to claim him. He blinked several times fighting against the feeling but it was overwhelming and surrounding him like a dark shroud. Sam stopped struggling against his captors, squeezed his eyes shut against another burst of pain in his head and surrendered to the relief of the darkness.

Awareness came back to Sam in a rush of pain and flashing bright colours behind his eye-lids. His head pounded with pain and he felt sick. Sam let out a small groan as he tried to work out in his muddled brain what was happening to him. It felt strange and uncomfortable and he fought to make sense of his confusing situation. It suddenly came to him in another rush of colour and pain which made his head spin momentarily. He was being hauled along the ground by his arms which would explain the ache in his abused shoulders.

Sam was suddenly glad for the jeans he had chosen to wear as well as the thick t-shirt, sweater and jacket as they all offered him some degree of protection as he was dragged across concrete surfaces, small stones and sharp objects digging into his body. Sam guessed that his skin would be sporting a myriad of bruises very soon. He could hear muffled voices and strained his ears unsuccessfully to hear what they were saying. He decided to keep his eyes closed in the vain hope that he might have an opportunity to escape his captors.

Just as he was about to risk opening his eyes he felt his body being dropped to the ground in an undignified heap. The relief in his arms was immediate and Sam knew from the feel beneath his body that he was now on some sort of grass surface. He sensed more than felt the men standing back away from him and he idly what they had planned next for him. He guessed with an internal sigh that it wouldn't be anything good and he really wished Dean was with him.

He couldn't help the yelp that escaped his mouth as a bucket of cold water was thrown over him. Sam spluttered and opened his eyes brushing his hair out of his eyes. He groaned as hands pulled him to his knees before another bucket of water was thrown at him. "Hey," he growled angrily trying to wriggle out of the tight grasp. He looked up and came face to face with Pendragon grinning down at him.

"Now what have we got here?" Pendragon grinned as he rubbed his hands together. "We seem to have gotten ourselves the little brother."

Sam scowled up at the older man. "Dean's gone," he lied. "And he took Excalibur with him." Sam took the opportunity to quickly glance around. As far as he could tell they were on the other side of the castle away from the theme park and like the main park the enclosed area was also floodlit. The area itself was completely enclosed by the castle itself on one side and high stone walls on the other three sides of the rectangular area. The surface was grass and running down the centre of the field was a simple wooden fence-like structure. At the other end of the area within one of the stone walls Sam could just about make out two doorways positioned side by side. One was small and the second was an impressive large wooden double doorway. Sam turned his attention back to Pendragon and scowled again.

"It's not nice to lie to your betters," Pendragon scoffed waggling a finger at Sam. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to lie."

"She's dead," Sam snarled although he couldn't quite manage to keep the waver out of his voice. "I never knew her."

"No matter," Pendragon said dismissively. "I know that your brother would never leave you," he looked upwards contemplatively. "He didn't strike me as the type to leave his little brother to his fate."

"You don't know my brother," Sam retorted.

Pendragon smiled triumphantly. "Oh," he tapped Sam on the shoulder. "But I think I do. He'll come to me... and if he doesn't you'll suffer for it," he threatened with a chuckle. Sam turned away from his tormenter but out of the corner of his eye he saw Pendragon nod his head to his men. Before he could do or say anything Sam was hauled roughly to his feet and dragged struggling towards two wooden posts set a few feet apart from each other. Sam thrashed and kicked out desperately trying to escape from the strong hands that restrained him. He tried to dig his heels into the soft ground but they just heaved him along as though he weighed nothing.

"Hey," Sam protested as he was stripped of his jacket, sweater and t-shirt leaving him naked from the waist upwards. Ignoring his loud and angry protests the men tied each wrist to one of the wooden posts securing them tightly with rough rope leaving Sam with his back to Pendragon and hanging stretched out between the two posts. Sam endeavoured to look over his shoulder as he tried to gauge the tightness of the ropes around his wrists by pulling on them. They were secure and he sighed in frustration.

Pendragon laughed loudly as he moved around in front of Sam. He leaned forward menacingly. It was then that Sam noticed the design on the medallion that Pendragon wore around his neck. It was exactly the same as the design on the ceiling of the Knights Hall. Sam noted he was also wearing a leather cord which seemed to contain a number - he couldn't count them - of smaller medallions which Sam recognised immediately. Pendragon was wearing the amulets that would have belonged to the individual Knights. A thought hit him and he realised he knew how to defeat Mordred and bring the real Pendragon back to his body. Sam sighed wishing, not for the first time, that Dean was with him. "Hurry up Dean," he thought to himself.

"Now let's see if we can encourage your big brother to come and play with us," Pendragon said dialling on his cell phone and putting it to his ear. "Dean," he said as he ran a finger down Sam's face. Sam flinched at the touch jutting out his jaw and silently glared at his tormenter determined not to give Pendragon the satisfaction of showing him how afraid he was, for himself and Dean. Pendragon sneered at him before turning back to his conversation. "You know what I want. I want Excalibur," he snarled into the cell phone. "You will come to me within an hour.... if you don't I will flay your little brother alive," Pendragon threatened giving Sam a nasty scowl. "And I never ever make idle threats," the older man nodded to Maleagant who lifted a whip. The sound of the whip cracking echoed around the small area. Sam recoiled against the sound expecting to feel pain but it never came and he knew that Pendragon was tormenting his brother with what would happen if he didn't bring Excalibur. Sam shivered at the thought. He strained his ears and heard Dean screaming his name as Pendragon hung up.

To be continued...............

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-05-29T17:01:58Z

Rating:          General
Characters:    Sam and Dean
Disclaimer:      They don't belong to me, just playing with them for a while!

Summary:
Dean meets an strange man which throws him and Sam into an unusual adventure

Chapter Five
Excalibur

Later that evening..............

Sam was following Dean along one of the castle corridors. He kept looking over his shoulder checking that they weren't being followed or had been detected. It had been surprisingly easy to break into the public part of the castle and they were now making their way towards the back of the castle where they were guessing the real Excalibur was kept.
They had spent an hour and a half at the back of a group of excitable tourists on a guided tour of the castle and its grounds that afternoon. The tour guide had given a long and bored monologue as he lead the group through room after room pointing left and right at things he had listed on his clip board. The decoration and atmosphere of the interior were impressive and seemed genuine to the time period the castle had been built. There were modern additions but they were discreet and well hidden. Sam had been impressed. Dean had been bored. For both of them though the most interesting part of the tour had been a small ante-room adjacent to the main drawing room which held a glass case that contained an obvious replica of Arthur's famous sword. They had both studied the replica for a few minutes before rejoining the group to discover the delights of the coffee shop which was hidden behind the armoury.
As they ambled after the tour group Sam and Dean scanned each room memorising the layout of the castle, its entrances and exits and the doors that were obviously locked barring the general public from access. Surprisingly they could only see a simple security system at the front entrance and none of the rooms they visited had visible cameras. They had both agreed that Pendragon had probably installed the security system in the off-view parts of the castle and that was where they were heading now.
"You OK Sammy?" Dean startled Sam out of his reverie.
"Yeah," Sam looked over his shoulder again. "This places gives me the creeps in the dark."
"Know what you mean dude," Dean whispered. "Over here," he pointed towards the door they had agreed earlier seemed the best option for breaking into the non-public part of the castle.
"I keep expecting Errol Flynn or Basil Rathbone to leap outta the shadows," Sam muttered.
"Dude," Dean said as he bent down and studied the door's lock. ""That was Robin Hood.... Rathbone was one of the best Sir Guy of Gisbourne's ever. And all that sword play... so cool," he said enthusiastically. He dug in his pocket retrieving his lock picking kit and started to work on the lock.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he mimicked his brother's favourite saying as the door clicked open.
"Tada," Dean mouthed with a smirk. They slipped quietly into another darkened corridor closing the door behind them. They stood absolutely still for a moment as they allowed their eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dean scanned the corridor looking for security cameras or infra-red beams. "It's our lucky night," he whispered. "Looks like Pendragon don't believe in security."
Sam gave a small nod and blinked against the dimness peering along the corridor. This part of the castle looked a lot older than the part on show for the public. The walls were a dirty grey stone colour but they were decorated with ornate wall hangings at regular intervals. The floor was made of the same grey stone and was well worn and slightly uneven. They crept along the corridor cringing inwardly as the sound of their footsteps seemed to echo all around them.
At the end of the dimly lit corridor were two large wooden doors. On either side of the doors were medieval type torches burning bright in the dimness, the flames flickered pitching shadows up and down the corridor. Carved into the wood of each door was a crest. The crest showed a dragon holding a cross standing on a circle. Sam squinted and recognised it immediately from his research - the crest of Arthur's Knights. Each Knight wore a medallion of the same design presented by the King when they joined the Round Table. The cross in the design was a reminder to live a pure and noble life. The dragon represented Arthur and their allegiance to the King with the circle symbolising the Round Table which in turn illustrated equality, unity, comradeship and the single purpose of all the Knights.
"The crest of King Arthur's Knights," he whispered to Dean pointing.
Dean nodded in understanding. "Think we might be in the right place Sammy," he whispered over his shoulder as he reached out towards the door. He looked over his shoulder at Sam again. Sam nodded and Dean carefully pulled on the handles. The doors were heavy and they slowly creaked open to reveal a large room. "Wow," Dean murmured as his eyes quickly scanned the room. "Just wow," he whispered again as the brothers stood in the entrance of the room. They edged cautiously into the room closing the large doors behind them. Again they checked for security cameras. There were none.
As usual they separated to explore the room and its contents logging every detail in their minds. The room was huge with a high arch-shaped ceiling with wooden rafters and supports. The walls and floor were again grey stone. Like the corridor the walls were adorned with wall hangings in rich reds, blues, greens and gold depicting what looked like the history of Camelot. Large windows at the top of one wall to the left would give the room natural light during the day. Crude wooden candle chandeliers hung from the wooden supports on the ceiling and torches fixed into metal brackets on the walls lit the large room. The flames from the torches and candles fluttered and danced again casting shadows up and down the stone walls creating an ethereal and eerie atmosphere.
At one end of the long room was a raised platform containing two large wooden thrones. Carved into the backs of the thrones were ornate designs that obviously represented Arthur and Guinevere. Purple and gold drapes were hung behind the chairs flowing underneath and down the three steps to the main floor giving the small raised platform a regal appearance.
But the most spectacular feature of the whole area was the round table that dominated the centre of the room. High backed chairs were pushed in neatly at each place. The table had been divided into twenty-five sections and each triangular part of the table had a crest carved delicately into the wood. On either side of the room, as though guarding the table, were twelve large and impressive shields placed in a perfect line. Brightly coloured each shield bore an identifying crest and behind each shield, hung on the wall, were two swords crossed as well as a standard, again with an identifying crest embroidered into the silk folds. The twenty-fifth shield, with a red dragon depicted in the middle, sat to one side of the raised platform.
Sam walked up and down the shields taking in each of the crests before moving to the table and running his hand along the shiny and worn wood surface as he circled the table. "Lancelot, Gawain, Bedivere, Galahad," he smiled to himself noticing that the two Knights Merlin had mistaken them for had sat next to each other. "Sagramore, Daniel, Gaheris, Percival, Pelleas, King Pellinore," he whispered to himself as he circled the table his fingers caressing the carvings noting that the crests on the table matched those on the shields and standards. "Arthur's Knights," he said in awe as he looked over to his brother who was studying one of the shields more closely. "Looks like there were only twenty-five Knights in the inner circle," Sam noted as he remembered his research quoting from between 12 and 150 Knights depending upon what website you were viewing.
"Mmmmm," Dean threw over his shoulder. "Look what we have here," he pointed to the stone floor and the slight markings that had been etched crudely into the stone underneath and surrounding the shield. "Binding spell," he said. "And it looks recent," he moved along to the next shield noting that it had similar markings beneath it. "They're all the same."
Sam moved over to his brother and looked down. Instinct made Sam look up at the ceiling. He hadn't noticed the delicate and intricate pattern carved into the ceiling when they had first entered the room. Sam squinted trying to memorise the circles, squares and triangles that made up the design. He nudged Dean. "Powerful binding spell," he nodded his head towards the ceiling. "But I've never seen one like that.... although it kinda looks like the Devil's Trap."
"Who knows what kinda magic they used back then," Dean looked up studying the symbols on the ceiling. "I doubt that Dad's journal is gonna help us this time," he tapped his jacket.
"I can't believe I'm gonna say this," Sam sighed. "But we need your friend Merlin."
Dean chuckled. "I have this feeling that we aint seen the last of him," he chuckled again. "So," he moved to the table again. "There's one thing missing," he looked over to Sam. "Excalibur."
Sam frowned. "I thought it would be here somewhere," he said disappointed. "If this is Camelot.... and this is where the Knights met..... it should be here somewhere," he said casting his eyes around the room again.
"Beats the hell outta me," Dean said as he leant on the table. A mechanical groaning and clunking sound filled the room and Dean jumped away from the table as though he had been burnt. "I didn't do anything," he defended glaring at the table.
Sam snorted. "Dude. You leant on Arthur's crest," he pointed as the clunking sounds continued. Sam dipped down and peered under the table. It was dark under the table and the sounds were much louder. Sam squinted desperately trying to see what was happening. As his eyes adjusted he could see that a hole had opened up in the floor and something was moving slowly upwards towards the underneath of the table. He squinted again moving his position to get a better view. "Shit," he cursed as he banged his head on the table.
"Sammy," Dean lightly kicked his brother to get his attention. A whirring sound had joined the clunking and Sam stood up rubbing at his head. Dean pointed without saying a word and Sam joined his brother in staring transfixed at the middle of the table.
The wood in the centre of the table had fanned upwards revealing a hole. Sam and Dean watched open-mouthed as a large sword appeared from the darkness circling round and round and upwards as the plinth the sword was balanced on moved into position. The sword was secured in a wooden rack and a leather scabbard hung loosely from one of the grips. The sword's blade was long and tapered perfectly to the point. The blade was strong looking, highly polished, shone to perfection and it glinted as the candle light caught the lethally sharpened edges. The hilt of the sword was just as impressive. The handle grips were wrapped in what looked like worn leather strips and the guard was an intricate design of gold and silver metal woven together to protect the hand of the bearer. The pommel was rounded at the top similar to a walking stick and bore an etching of a red dragon. Bursts of light seemed to emanate outwards from the sword as it rose upwards giving it an almost magical aura. The clunking and whirring suddenly stopped and the wooden plinth locked into place facing Arthur's place at the table.
"Do you think it's the real deal?" Sam finally found his voice. He glanced sideways at Dean who looked just as awe-struck as he did.
"Dude," Dean smirked turning away from looking at the sword. "With an entrance like that I am gonna be pissed if it aint." Sam couldn't help chuckling as they both leant forwards to study the sword more closely. Curious Sam cautiously reached a hand towards the sword.
"I wouldn't do that," a voice boomed. "Excalibur is protected."
Instinctively Sam snatched his hand back and both brothers spun round to face Pendragon who seemingly had appeared from out of nowhere. Pendragon was dressed not in his expensive silk suit but an intricately designed silver coloured chain-mail full suit with a high neck and silver boots that reached to his knees. Over the chain-mail he wore a long black tabard with a crest embroidered on the front. A large gold medallion hung from his neck but Sam couldn't make out the design on the front. He wore leather wrist bands and a leather belt loosely around his waist. An empty leather scabbard hung from the belt. The garb made him somehow seem taller, more impressive and more intimidating and Sam shuddered at the sight. Pendragon noticed the reaction and grinned.
Dean automatically grabbed Sam ignoring the sigh from his brother and started to edge around the table towards the doors. "I wouldn't do that either," Pendragon gave a loud chuckle as he nodded his head.
Dean chanced a look over his shoulder and came face to face with a gun pointed at his head. The cocking of the trigger seemed to echo around the room. Dean noted that the two men blocking their way were similarly dressed to Pendragon but with different crests displayed on their tabards. Somehow the guns in their hands didn't match their clothing and Dean had a sudden urge to laugh at the incongruity but managed to push it down within him. He turned back to find Pendragon standing close. Dean grinned. "Got lost on the tour looking for the bathroom," Dean grinned again.
Pendragon laughed again as he moved towards the table. "A sense of humour," he said as he studied his nails. "I like that." He looked up and nodded at the second man and Dean and Sam found themselves disarmed of their concealed weapons. The shorter of the two men threw the bottle of holy water he found on Sam towards Pendragon who caught it easily. He turned it over and over in his hand before looking up at the brothers and frowning. He placed the bottle on the table. "Let me demonstrate why you shouldn't touch Excalibur," he leaned over the table reaching one finger towards the sword. As it neared the weapon, a funnel of blue light appeared, humming slightly as it coiled a protective barrier around Excalibur bathing it in a blueish glow.
Pendragon took a deep breath and touched the blue barrier jumping back, despite himself, as blue and white sparks flashed and spat outwards. The humming noise grew louder and Pendragon moved back. "Would you like to try?" he challenged sucking at his reddened finger and hand as he mounted the small platform again and slumped down in the one of the thrones throwing one leg casually over the arm of the chair.
"We'll pass," Dean answered as he and Sam were pushed towards the small platform. Dean bit back a cry as his shoulder was jostled. "Hey," Dean protested instead glaring at the two men. The taller of the two men shoved Dean again and he stumbled. Sam caught Dean before he hit the floor putting a steadying hand under his brother's elbow.
"Who's body did you and they steal and possess?" Sam snapped angrily.
"All insignificant beings," Pendragon drawled dismissing Sam's protest with a casual wave of his hand but raised an eyebrow in surprise. Quickly recovering he shot Sam a bland look. "And I think I got a very good deal. A handsome and strong body as only I deserve," he preened running a hand down his black tabard.
"What about the real Uther Pendragon. He deserves to live his life," Sam protested. "He's done nothing to you. He's innocent."
"The fool is serving me," Pendragon barked. "And it is an honour." Sam glowered at the older man but chose to remain silent not wanting to give Pendragon any more time to justify possessing an innocent body. Pendragon cocked his head to one side. "But please do forgive me. In all the excitement my manners seem to have deserted me," he smirked bowing his head slightly. "I am Mordred. Son of Arthur and rightful heir to Camelot... and I have the honour of presenting Sir Maleagant and Sir Agravaine.... two of my most loyal and trusted supporters." Sam couldn't help glancing backwards at the table noting that the two Knights places were on the right and left of Sir Mordred's seat at the table. Pendragon noticed the movement and cackled. "Yes my dear young man.... we sat at the table as Knights of King Arthur..... but we did not believe in his self-righteous and holy babble. We had other plans."
"So we've heard," Dean glared at the two men as they gave over-exaggerated bows at their introduction. "Cute names by the way," he baited. Without warning Agravaine moved forwards and back-handed Dean hard across the face bloodying his lip making him stumble backwards.
Dean yelped but managed to keep his balance. He scowled up at the Knight as he wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. "Dean," Sam hissed putting a hand on his brother's arm to stop him retaliating.
Pendragon laughed loudly. "You have spirit young man," he boomed. "I like that...... but don't be fooled by the fact that they are medieval Knights.... we have all embraced our new world and its weapons since our awakening six months ago," Pendragon got to his feet. "Your..... now what do you call it?" he scrunched his face up in thought before giving them a smile. "World wide web is very informative," he snapped the fingers of his right hand together. "We have studied and learned so much."
"I just bet you have," Dean retorted with a scowl.
Pendragon laughed. "Oh I have young man. And I have a vast fortune at my disposal to.... what do you say," he studied a well-manicured nail. "Ahhh yes. Invest in all manner of entrepreneurial businesses..... drugs, gambling, prostitution, weapons... and all under the guise of a respectable business empire," he waved his hand in the air. "That is all mine."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Picked the best of what our century has to offer...I see," he quipped.
"Where are the other Knights?" Sam interrupted before Pendragon could reply. He couldn't help asking the question, curious despite the situation. "And how did you escape?"
"How I escaped is no concern of yours," Pendragon snapped. "And sadly," he smirked wickedly. "The other Knights are trapped for all eternity along with their pathetic and foolish Arthur," he swept his hand around the room. "Their mortal bodies were destroyed long ago... and their souls entrapped in their insignia," he pointed at the two rows of shields. "They mistakenly thought they would be released when the time was right but," he cackled nastily. "I had other plans for them," Pendragon looked up at the ceiling. "And I have protected Camelot with powerful magic learned from Nimue," he boasted. "Only those who are loyal to me have been allowed to live again."
"Is Nimue here?" Sam couldn't help asking.
Pendragon chuckled shaking his head. "She taught me her magic which she herself stole from that fool Merlin. And then she stupidly thought that I would want her with me," he gave a small shrug. "I had her magic...... why would I want her." He gave a loud laugh. "Although I suppose in essence she is here. I choked the life out of her myself. And cast her into the lake and watched her sink to the bottom."
"Lady of the Lake," Sam murmured to himself.
"But she's not important," Pendragon said. My Knights and I have decided we like it here," he turned glaring at Dean. "And yes I think I have chosen my businesses wisely. We were born and destined to live in your violent and evil world. We belong here... and intend to stay here forever." He smiled broadly at the brothers.
"Good for you," Dean couldn't help saying. He heard Sam groan. "But your little party piece," Dean pointed at Excalibur. "Tells me that you haven't learnt how to unlock the protection." Pendragon's broad smile turned quickly to a nasty scowl and Dean couldn't help the grin that escaped. "Thought so,"" he said confidently. Sam groaned again which made Dean's grin even larger.
"Excalibur is rightfully mine," Pendragon said forcefully. "The power is wields should be mine. Just as," he swept his hands around the room. "Camelot is now all mine."
"King Arthur didn't think so," Sam countered. "He protected it against evil... and probably you specifically. You may have Camelot but you need Excalibur to become the King that Arthur was."
"Arthur was a stupid fool," Pendragon spat dismissively. "He could have been a great King. Instead he chose to be a wise one. Interested only in good and noble deeds. And he encouraged his Knights to follow him... and they stupidly did... and it was their undoing. They were always too trusting."
"But the truth always hurts," Dean quipped folding his arms against his chest. "Arthur made sure that Excalibur would never be yours." Sam nodded and both brothers stared challengingly at Pendragon.
Pendragon scowled again deciding to ignore the brothers but he knew, deep down, that they spoke the truth. Arthur didn't trust him and had protected Excalibur against him. He turned back to the brothers. "I'm curious," Pendragon hissed. "You're not surprised by our situation. By this," he waved a hand at himself and the other two Knights. "You truly believe that we are who we say we are." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You believe."
"You'd be surprised what we believe in," Sam shrugged.
"May be," Pendragon moved down the steps towards the brothers. Maleagant and Agravaine moved back slightly but still kept their weapons trained on Sam and Dean. He touched both brothers on their arms. He frowned as he circled them both looking them up and down. "Now why was Merlin so interested in you two?" Pendragon mused. "Perhaps," he pursed his lips. "Because you are protected somehow."
Dean glanced at Sam who gave him a imperceptible nod. Somehow Pendragon knew that they were protected from possession and Dean offered up a silent prayer that Bobby was not only their friend but also their protector. "Merlin?" Dean said. "Never heard of him."
"Oh I doubt that," Pendragon said. "He was with you... I sensed him," he circled the brothers again. "He won't risk coming into the castle because he knows I can trap him here like the other Knights.... but I know he was with you... and he is out there somewhere hiding like the pathetic coward he is."
Without warning Pendragon's hand snaked out and grabbed Sam's arm. Dean went to protest but Agravaine stepped forward and pulled him roughly away from his brother. Dean struggled against the grip but the Knight had grabbed him by his injured arm and was slowly pulling it up behind his back. Dean closed his eyes against the pain radiating up and down his arm. "Move and I will break your arm," Agravaine hissed in his ear as he pushed Dean against the table. Dean braced himself against the table with his good arm and concentrated on not passing out or moving.
Sam yelped and tried to pull away but Pendragon tightened his grip and twisted Sam's arm over to reveal the healing burn over the binding mark. "Marked by a demon," he crowed grinning at Sam's obvious distress. "I could use a man like you," he said. "You have been touched by evil. We are made of the same metal," Pendragon pulled down the high neck of his armour to reveal a tattoo on his lower neck similar to the one on Sam's arm but much more elaborate and complex. Sam immediately recognised the design - it was the same as the carving on the ceiling of the hall. "But this one can't be burned away," Pendragon smiled. "Join me.... and fulfill your destiny."
Sam stared at the tattoo transfixed for a moment. Pendragon gave a harsh laugh digging his nails into Sam's skin. The action jolted Sam out of his trance and he wrenched his arm away from Pendragon wincing as the older man's nails raked along his skin. He jerked his arm out of the grip and backed up fear filling his whole being. Sam couldn't help shuddering at Pendragon's words. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and his mouth was suddenly dry. He licked at his lips. "No," he cursed himself as his voice wavered slightly. Sam glanced sideways at Dean for reassurance.
"Easy," Dean mouthed at him and Sam could feel himself relaxing almost immediately. Sam looked back towards Pendragon and jutted his chin out defiantly. Agravaine released Dean turning slightly to watch amused as Pendragon continued to torment the younger man knowing that Maleagant was covering him.
Pendragon barked out a harsh laugh folding his arms across his chest. "Prove to me that you are pure of heart and soul. That evil hasn't tainted you," he baited nodding towards Excalibur. "If you aren't destined to be evil you will be able to bear Excalibur from its protection."
Sam licked at his lips again his eyes darting from Dean to Pendragon and back again. Dean gave him a small smile. Knowing that Dean had faith in him encouraged and gave him strength even though his fear was threatening to choke him. Sam was so afraid that he was evil or destined to be evil. His heart continued to pound as his mind was bombarded with memories of being possessed and he knew that he had been touched by evil so he guessed he probably wouldn't be able to touch Excalibur. The sweat dripped down the back of his neck and Sam closed his eyes briefly trying to summon up the courage to touch the sword. Opening his eyes Sam straightened up to his full height. He glanced sideways at Dean who gave him a small nod which was also a small imperceptible shake of his head and Sam could tell from the expression on his brother's face that Dean was having the same thoughts about him touching the sword. He turned away from his brother to look Pendragon directly in the eyes. Never taking his eyes off the older man Sam reached his hand out slowly towards the sword willing his hand to stop shaking.
Dean had waited patiently for an opportunity to strike and Sam had given it to him. He smiled to himself proud of his brother. With all eyes hopefully on Sam, Dean grit his teeth against the pain he knew he would feel. He balled his hand into a fist and lunged towards Agravaine shoving him hard with his injured arm. Surprised at the move Agravaine yelped and stumbled backwards dropping his gun to the floor with a clatter. The weapon slid across the stone floor under the table. Not giving Agravaine a chance to strike back Dean followed the shove with a punch to the Knight's face bloodying his nose. A second jab brought forth another yelp and with a loud huff of breath Dean shoved Agravaine hard again. Off balance Agravaine collapsed to the floor in a heap of blood and curses. As he hit the floor his head snapped back hitting one of the heavy wooden chairs. He slumped forward dazed and glassy eyed.
Without taking a breath or thinking clearly Dean leant over reaching towards Excalibur knocking Sam's shaking hand out of the way. Sam stumbled backwards breathing a sigh of relief despite his concern for his brother sensing immediately what Dean was about to do. Open mouthed he watched as Dean's hand reached for Excalibur. "No Dean," he couldn't help shouting in panic. Even as he shouted in fear Sam had, out of years of training, unconsciously adopted a fighting and protective stance ready to back his brother up. His heart was still thudding in his chest but he was determined not to let Dean down.
Dean ignored his brother's plea and closed his eyes as he curled his hand around the sword's grip cautiously. There was no humming noise or blue glow surrounding the weapon and he faltered momentarily at the lack of the expected electric shock. He felt the leather strapping of the grip warm in his hand and Dean gave a small grin tightening his hold and drawing the sword away from its wooden racking. It was heavy but he steadied his stance and brandished the sword in the air advancing on Pendragon who had produced a small dagger from within the folds of his tunic. Pendragon tensed and waved the dagger at Dean goading him.
Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Maleagant moving towards him gun drawn and smiled as Sam leapt towards the Knight kicking him viciously in the lower leg and jabbing him hard on the chin. Maleagant cried out in pain and Sam took advantage by grabbing his gun arm and in a move he had learned from his father, twisted the Knight's arm up behind his back until the weapon was dropped to the floor with a cry of pain. Kicking the gun out of reach Sam grabbed the Knight around the throat and held on tight watching for a signal from Dean. At the same time, Sam kept his eyes on Agravaine who was still on the floor nursing his bloodied nose and blinking his eyes rapidly in an obvious attempt to clear his head.
Pendragon lunged forwards jabbing the dagger towards Dean's stomach. Dean easily dodged the lunge side-stepping as Pendragon tried to follow through with his intention of stabbing him. Dean turned swiftly facing Pendragon and advancing on him sword levelled at the older man's chest. Pendragon retreated as he stared down at the sharp tip of the sword mesmorised as Dean forced him back towards the wall with small prodding motions. With a small flick of his wrist, Dean tapped Pendragon on the chin with the tip of the sword making the older man look directly at him. "Dagger," he waggled the fingers of his free hand as he pressed the tip of the sword against Pendragon's chin. Pendragon dropped his hand and reluctantly surrendered the dagger to Dean's free hand. Dean grinned at the man and with a downward flick of his wrist he moved the sword's tip level against Pendragon's throat. "Don't you ever threaten my brother again," he hissed moving the sword even closer to Pendragon's throat.
Pendragon swallowed and stared at Dean. "Now I know why Merlin was so interested in you," he snarled. "You're a Guardian."
Dean frowned in confusion. "Whatever," he said circling away from Pendragon the sword still centimetres away from Pendragon's throat. "Sammy," he glanced towards his brother. "We're leaving. And," Dean threatened glaring at the two Knights. "If either of you make a move, I'll make a kebab outta your boss here."
"You haven't got it in you to kill me," Pendragon sneered supremely confident that he had the measure of the young man in front of him.
Dean smirked and pushed the tip of the sword against Pendragon's skin drawing a small amount of blood. "What did I say about appearances being deceptive," Dean hissed his voice low and dangerous.
Pendragon stared at Dean for a moment. Dean didn't flinch from the stare and gave Pendragon a hard look. Pendragon wasn't sure if the younger man would carry out his threat but there was something in the glint of the green eyes regarding him angrily that made him question his previous conviction. He shifted his eyes to look at his men who were poised to attack as soon as the opportunity arose. "Don't move," Pendragon squeaked out an order to his Knights.
Dean nodded at his brother. Sam pushed Maleagant to the floor, quickly retrieved the Knight's dropped gun and hurried over to Dean. "That way," Dean nodded towards the drapes behind the thrones. Sam gave a small nod and ran up the steps turning to cover Dean's escape with the gun. Dean dropped Excalibur slightly and grabbed Pendragon by his tabard shoving him towards his men. Pendragon staggered and dropped to the floor in an ungainly heap glaring up at Dean. Dean glared back his eyes never leaving Pendragon, as he drove the dagger down into Mordred's crest on the Round Table with a loud thud. "I told you we always get what we come for," Dean hissed as he hurried to Sam's side.
Dean and Sam slowly backed out of the Knight's room disappearing behind the drapes. They found themselves in another dimly lit corridor. "Man... are we in trouble now," Sam huffed as they jogged along side by side.
"So what's new," Dean quipped as he looked over his shoulder knowing that Pendragon and his men would soon be following.
"Where too?" Sam asked.
"We're winging it remember," Dean chuckled as Sam rolled his eyes. "That way," he pointed towards an exit hoping that it took them into the theme park itself and away from Camelot.

Back in the Hall.......
"Call yourselves Knights," Pendragon snapped as he struggled to his feet wiping his hands absently against his bloodied throat. "You fools," he snarled back-handing Maleagant. " Get the others and go after them."
"Yes my Lord," Maleagant rubbed at his stinging face where Pendragon had hit him. He leant forwards dragging Agravaine to his feet and both Knights grabbed their swords from the wall above their personal shields and started after the brothers.
"Don't kill them. I want them alive. I want Excalibur," Pendragon shouted angrily his face red with rage. "Bring them to me at my private field of battle."
"It is done my Lord," Agravaine said. "We will not fail you."
"If you fail me," Pendragon threatened. "You will be banished for all eternity."

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-05-26T14:55:06Z

Rating:          General
Characters:    Sam and Dean
Disclaimer:      They don't belong to me, just playing with them for a while!

Summary:
Dean meets an strange man which throws him and Sam into an unusual adventure

Chapter Four
Mordred

Sam stared at the man framing the doorway. He guessed that Pendragon was in his mid-forties. He was well dressed in an under-stated but expensive looking suit with a co-ordinated silk shirt and tie. Pendragon stood at least two inches taller than Sam himself so dwarfed Dean. Built like a Mountain man rather than a business man he had broad shoulders and was well muscled and athletic looking despite his size and height. His straight dark hair fell to his shoulders and despite the length looked well cared for and coiffured. His dark eyes were surveying the room and Sam got the distinct impression he was looking for something or someone. His voice and diction were clear and spoken with a deep Southern drawl with a hint of another accent Sam couldn't quite place. And like Merlin the man's presence seemed to fill the room. Sam shivered. The man seemed to ooze danger from every pore and it made him feel uneasy.
"So," Dean asked. "Do all your guests get a personal welcome?"
The man turned and looked down at Dean. "I like to welcome all my guests," he replied with another smile which didn't quite reach his eyes.
"And these," Dean indicated the two men still standing in the hallway. "Would be the towel police?"
Pendragon boomed out a harsh laugh. "Something like that," he moved further into the room his eyes still darting restlessly around. "I promise they don't bite."
"I've been bitten by worse," Dean quipped.
Pendragon raised an eyebrow at Dean. "But you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours," he said. He narrowed his eyes towards Sam studying the younger man carefully from head to foot.
Sam shivered again. "Sam Mackavoy," he introduced himself. "And this is my brother Dean."
"And what brings you to my Camelot?" Pendragon asked.
Dean raised his eyes at the possessive words of 'my Camelot' filing it for future reference. He knew, without a doubt, that they were in the presence of Mordred and he felt a shiver of excitement run through him. "Roller coasters," Dean leaned lazily against the wall watching as their host paced around the room. "Your roller coasters." Sam shot Dean a confused look. Dean shook his head slightly his expression telling his brother to play along.
"My roller coasters," Pendragon couldn't mask his surprise and obvious disbelief as he swung around to face Dean. Pendragon moved closer to Dean peering down attempting to use his height advantage.
"Yeah," Dean gave a small smile not a bit intimidated by the taller man. "We're in to all that potential energy to kinetic energy and back again."
Pendragon narrowed his eyes at Dean. "I see," he said absently with a frown.
"Yeah," Dean pushed himself slowly off the wall moving past Pendragon. "So with Guinevere? Which by the way is one great coaster," he grinned over his shoulder at Pendragon. "Are you using a flywheel launch or may be a compressed air launch?" Dean smirked at the obvious discomfort of their host. "I'm thinking hydraulic launch myself.... although you're kinda a traditionalist so may be you used a lift hill," Dean smirked again.
"I leave the tedious mechanical details to my engineers," Pendragon waved a hand in the air dismissively. "They are far more interested in that type of thing than I myself am," he sniffed and studied a well manicured finger nail. He looked up again looking from Dean to Sam and back again. "But I'm curious. Neither of you look the type to be interested in the tiresome details of how roller coasters operate."
"Appearances can be deceptive," Dean smiled as he dropped onto one of the beds. "Books and covers... whatever the hell the saying is," he waved his good arm in the air vaguely.
"So I have found to my cost many times," Pendragon stared at Dean narrowing his eyes trying to work out why the younger man disturbed him so much. Dean grinned staring back challengingly not flinching from the hard look Pendragon shot him. "And I made a vow a long time ago never to be caught out again," Pendragon said as he flicked his gaze away from Dean and moved towards the adjoining bathroom.
"Good vow. Must remember that one," Dean agreed with another smile, his eyes following every move that Pendragon made. "Oh and the towels are just peachy. Just the right amount of fluffiness," he baited with another of his trademark smirks.
Pendragon ignored the comment continuing with his exploration of the room. Sam glared at Dean mouthing shut up at him. He gritted his teeth as Pendragon peered into the bathroom before turning back into the room. Sam dredged up some knowledge from hours of surfing the internet. "We're from the Kansas branch of Extreme Roller coasters," he waved at the laptop. "It's a web-based community. We go around the country and experience all the roller coasters we can," Sam explained. "And then write up a report of our experiences."
"I see," Pendragon's eyes swept the room again. He frowned to himself. "I hope that my coasters won't disappoint."
"Oh I am sure we won't be disappointed," Dean raised his eyes at Pendragon. "We always get what we come for." It was a challenge and both men knew it. Dean smiled lazily.
Pendragon gave a small huff, pursed his lips into a scowl and then a smile. "I hope you enjoy your stay gentlemen," he gave a little bow. "And I am quite sure we will meet again during your visit," he gave Dean another hard look before sweeping out of the room closing the door behind him.
"Crap," Sam lay across the bed and blew out a breath. "He doesn't believe us."
"I wouldn't believe us," Dean quipped. "And welcome to my world shorty," Dean grinned at Sam. "That is one tall dude."
Sam sat up and couldn't help a small grin gracing his features. "So why did you come out with all that crap about coasters?" Sam's smile turned into a glare.
"First thing that came into my head," Dean answered honestly. "And I like coasters."
"You've never been on one," Sam countered. "Because you don't like heights."
"That's flying," Dean retaliated. "And you don't like clowns."
"And your point is?" Sam rolled his eyes.
"Beats me," Dean grinned at his brother.
"I can't believe you made all that stuff up," Sam blew out another breath.
"I didn't," Dean shrugged. "Coasters are all about kinetic and potential energy. Especially that one," Dean waved a hand in the direction of the coaster they could see from their balcony.
"What?" Sam said.
"Guinevere may be a brand new shiny coaster made out of tubular steel but it's designed like a traditional one but with a few more highs and lows," Dean made hill shapes in the air with one hand. "And from what I can see from here it's got a pulley system at the start to pull the cars up the first incline.... then bang," Dean smacked his hands together making Sam start slightly. "In comes potential and kinetic energy working together to get the damn thing up and down all the other hills. Probably got some sort of brake run system at the station to stop it after all the riders have lost their lunch and screamed themselves silly." He grinned at Sam's silence. He shrugged. "I told you I like coasters."
"Oh," Sam was all he could think of saying never ceasing to be amazed at his brother. "And the other stuff?"
"A test," Dean said. "And he failed miserably. Guess they didn't have coasters back in good old King Arthur's time."
"Well not everyone is a roller coaster geek," Sam couldn't help teasing.
"Yeah but the website said that Pendragon is a graduate of MIT. With honours. He'd know about all that mechanical mumbo-jumbo," Dean said. "But Mordred on the other hand wouldn't know squat."
"So you're buying into all this King Arthur nonsense?" Sam asked with a sigh although he already knew the answer.
"Yeah I am," Dean answered. "It's all beginning to fit. And that," he pointed a finger at the door. "Was definitely one bad dude."
"What about the possession?" Sam asked. "If Mordred has possessed Pendragon.... it's not our usual kind of demon possession. We're in the dark here," he said.
"Don't worry so much Samantha," Dean said with a small shrug. "We'll wing it like always."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Sam frowned.
A thought suddenly hit them and they jumped to their feet. "Merlin," they both said at the same time as they hurried to the adjoining bathroom.
The bathroom was empty and the window was closed tightly. Dean prowled the room searching every possible hiding place even looking in the shower cubicle. The room was empty. Sam opened the window and Dean joined his brother in looking downwards. They were on the fourth floor and there was no handy drainpipe to slide down or adjoining balcony to escape on to. Just a long drop to an ornate paved area which surrounded the hotel on the ground floor. They looked at each other, then down again and back at each other again. They both shook their heads. "Nah," they said at the same time. Dean closed the window and followed Sam back into the main room.
"What the hell?" Dean said rubbing absently at his arm. It was aching again and he silently cursed his weakness. He had a sneaking feeling that things were about to get interesting so he decided against taking more pain killers as they made him feel fuzzy-headed and he needed to be sharp, alert and ready for anything that might come their way.
Sam noticed the action but decided to remain silent not really wanting to get into another argument with his brother but he made a mental note to make Dean take some of his pain killers. "I swear he went in there," he frowned as he checked their own balcony just in case.
"So may be he is Merlin," Dean murmured. "He said he did magic."
"May be," Sam hesitantly acknowledged. Dean gave him a victorious look and Sam sighed in irritation. "Look I may not agree with all this... this Knight... and Merlin crap," he flapped his arms in the air. "But that Pendragon guy is one creepy dude."
"Yay," Dean teased. "Something we can agree on..... at fricking last."
"So what's next Sir Bedivere?" Sam baited.
"Well Sir Galahad," Dean grinned as Sam sighed again. "By the way I looked him up while you and Merlin were squabbling like a couple of girls."
"We were not squabbling," Sam interrupted with a pout before giving yet another long sigh. "So go on. I know you're dying to tell me all about Galahad."
"Galahad was a virgin," Dean sniggered at the murderous glare Sam aimed at him. He hurried on with his explanation before Sam had chance to strangle him for the first comment. Dean just hadn't been able to resist and grinned to himself. "But it also said that of all the Knights he was the most perfect," his expression softened. "Perfect in courage, gentleness, courtesy and chivalry. Completely sinless throughout his whole life. He was Lancelot's son and way surpassed his father in the valour and courage department." Dean gave Sam a reassuring smile hoping that his brother got the message he was trying to convey. Dean wasn't into chick flick moments, usually avoided them like the plague, but he desperately needed Sam to know that he didn't think that his brother was evil or that he would ever become evil. Dean knew it was an awkward way of telling Sam but words had never been his thing.
"I think your Merlin mistook me for the wrong Knight," Sam said miserably. "And I'm not sure I want to believe in destiny any more." Deep down Sam knew what his brother was trying to say but his terror was overwhelming and he was frightened that his fate was an evil one. Frightened that Dean or he himself wouldn't be able to prevent him treading on and taking the wrong path towards darkness, the demon and an evil destiny.
Dean's eyes flashed with anger. "May be Merlin saw something in you that you can't or won't see in yourself," he snapped angrily.
"Dean," Sam protested.
"No Sammy..... I get it... I really do," Dean put his hand up stopping Sam mid-sentence. "But just for once I wanna find us a destiny other than the crappy one we seem to have been stuck with." Dean began to pace the room.
"Is that why you wanted to come here?" Sam asked quietly as he watched his brother pace up and down the room. "Is that why you believe Merlin?"
Dean whirled on him. "Yes.... no..... oh I don't know," he threw his hands up in the air frustrated with himself wincing as his injured shoulder protested the motion. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he offered with a small smile as he rubbed at his arm.
Sam couldn't help himself - he gave a small laugh suddenly feeling much better. Dean was always so.... well Dean. He wanted so much to believe Dean and to some extent Merlin but he was so afraid and confused at the moment but Sam knew that Dean would never let him down and he was equally determined not to let Dean down. They were both as stubborn as each other so may be they stood a chance of defeating the evil that had been haunting their whole lives. "OK," he murmured for his brother's sake. "Now we're here... we might as well help Merlin."
Dean stopped and gave him a small lopsided grin. "Right," he grabbed for his jacket with his good arm. "Let's go and join this castle tour," Dean said as he headed for the door, Sam at his heels. "And then tonight we'll do a private visit all of our own."
To be continued.....

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-05-25T18:37:04Z

Chapter Three
Knights of the Internet

After two hours on the road Dean and Sam had finally arrived at the theme park and booked into the hotel. It wasn't a school holiday so they were lucky and had the pick of rooms. Dean had chosen a room with a balcony overlooking the park so that they could get a feel of the place. The room was large and comfortable with two queen-sized beds, the usual wardrobes and cupboards and a medium-sized en suite bathroom. In the corner of the room near to the balcony was a small sitting area with two comfortable chairs, a coffee table, a desk and two office styled chairs. It was larger and more luxurious than they were used to but surprisingly the room hadn't been expensive and included entry to the theme park and the castle. Dean had paid in advance for three days in cash not wanting to risk a fraudulent credit card.

Sam was sitting at the desk laptop open scrolling through web sites looking for anything that might convince Dean that the whole thing was a coincidence. He minimised several sites to show his brother when he came in from the balcony.

On cue Dean wandered in from the balcony of their room. "Wow," he said. "It all looks pretty cool," he beamed at his brother. "That roller coaster is one big mother," he enthused as he slumped down next to Sam. "There's three in total, two are smaller ones."

Sam glanced up from the laptop and rolled his eyes at Dean. "We're not here to look at roller coasters," he reminded. Sam noticed that Dean had discarded his sling onto one of the beds and was now sitting with his arm resting across his chest. Sam sighed to himself and turned back to the laptop.

"So," Dean cautiously stretched. "What you got geek boy?" he teased. "Hit me."

"Don't tempt me," Sam muttered under his breath still angry that he hadn't been able to persuade his brother that it was all a coincidence. They had argued for over half an hour in the parking lot of the diner before Sam had finally surrendered. For some reason Sam didn't really understand Dean was determined to investigate and he was quite sure that if he hadn't finally agreed his brother would have just left him behind at the diner.

Sam restored the first of the websites he had discovered. "Well first off. Uther Pendragon," he pointed at the picture on the screen. "Used to be Miles Edward Cavanagh but he changed his name legally three years ago. His parents are dead and he inherited his father's business empire," Sam looked across at Dean who was nodding. "Computer games, web site design and that sorta stuff."

"Big money in that stuff," Dean agreed drawing his chair closer and squinting at the screen. "So what's his connection with King Arthur," he asked.

Sam turned back to the screen. "Well apart from designing several hugely successful Arthur themed computer games netting him just over ten million dollars, Pendragon has used some of his fortune collecting Arthur memorabilia."

"So that would explain why his roller coasters have got girly names. Guinevere, Igraine and Morgan le Fay," Dean noted idly. "All the ladies in King Arthur's life. His wife, his mother and his half sister."

Sam stared at Dean surprised. Dean smirked at him and leaned back in his chair waving a hand at his brother to continue. Sam shook his head turning back to the laptop. "In fact he's the most prolific collector in the States," he flipped to another website. "And this is one of his latest acquisitions. A castle and its grounds. All the way from England."

Dean whistled impressed. "A whole castle and its grounds," he whistled again.

"Yep," Sam smiled at Dean. "He had the castle built up again brick by brick and the grounds laid out exactly as they were in England." Sam waved his hand in the general direction of the back edge of the Park. "It's the one you can see in the distance. He lives in it and it also houses his collection. That part of the castle is open to the public." Sam pointed at the screen. "It says here that the castle came from an area in Essex thought to have been conquered by the Saxons in the 5^th century," he shrugged. "So it could be the real deal .... even though the scholar dudes think that Camelot was entirely fictional and dreamed up by the romance writers."

Dean leant forward. "Most famous fictional castle and court associated with King Arthur," he read. "Camelot is a place associated with the ideals of justice, bravery and truth and are all the virtues Arthur and his Knights embody." He nodded and smiled at Sam. "So what else did you find?" he asked with another smile knowing that once Sam got into research his brother would have the whole story laid out for him. Sam could be so predictable sometimes.

Sam rolled his eyes. He clicked on another website. "OK," he shot a glance sideways. "Your friend Merlin. Prophet. Advisor. Magician. Born of a mortal woman and sired by an incubus who he inherited his powers from," Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise at Dean.

"And?" Dean encouraged with a small shrug keeping his expression as bland as he could. "What else you got?"

Sam shook his head at his brother and turned back to the laptop. "It says that Merlin engineered the birth of Arthur through magic and intrigue and then becomes one of his most trusted and loyal associates."

"Looks like our guy," Dean pointed at the depiction of Merlin in the centre of the web page.

"Merlin is always depicted like that," Sam protested. "Always as an old man with grey hair and a beard."

"As I said," Dean retorted stubbornly. "Looks like our guy."

"So do a million other dudes," Sam muttered as he flicked another web site up onto the screen. Dean scowled at his brother but chose to remain silent. "This web site here says that Merlin was born of a virgin and a demon as an intended anti-Christ," Sam glanced at his brother who was ignoring him and staring at the screen, concentration creasing his forehead. Sam sighed. "But his mother frees him from the power of Satan by having him baptised." Sam's voice wavered slightly as he read the next line out aloud. "But his demonic legacy gave him knowledge of the past and present and also a prophetic knowledge of the future," he continued.

"So he could be half demon?" Dean asked quietly ignoring the demonic legacy quote having not missed the quaver in his brother's voice. Dean knew exactly what Sam was thinking and he was determined they weren't going down that road again, ever. He sighed rubbing at his head trying to ease the pounding of another headache.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You OK man?" he asked worried.

"Fine," Dean snapped his usual answer.

"Just asking," Sam snapped back with a glare. He turned back to the laptop and angrily scrolled the screen down further. "It also says that Merlin was bewitched by Nimue who may or may not have been the Lady of the Lake. The stories aren't clear on that point. But anyway Nimue enchanted Merlin and coaxed his magical secrets from him before using them against him and imprisoning him in an enchanted prison, a cave or an invisible tower."

Dean blew out a breath. "Does it say anything about Bedivere?"

Sam shot Dean a confused look. "Why do you wanna know about Bedivere?" he asked.

Dean shrugged. "Merlin mentioned him," he said as he straightened up in his chair disregarding Sam's look. "Hey. Didn't Bedivere return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake when Arthur was killed?" Dean couldn't believe that he hadn't remembered that before and decided to blame it on the pain medication.

Sam raised his eyes surprised. Dean never ceased to amaze him with his knowledge of things unusual. "Yes actually he did. But it took him three attempts. It was after the Battle of Camlann," he answered. "Bedivere was also one of the first Knights to join the Round Table," he tapped Bedivere into the search engine bringing up the first page in the list scanning the information quickly. "He was a loyal ally of Arthur. Going on many missions for the King. He lost a hand in battle but remained one of the bravest and fiercest of all Arthur's Knights. Some modern stories even have him as Guinevere's lover, not Lancelot."

Dean gave a small smirk which had Sam frowning in confusion before he turned back to the computer. Dean couldn't help smiling to himself. The old man had confused him for a brave Knight. Dean shook his head dismissing the thought and chastising himself for his foolishness but a small part of him wanted to believe that he had the heart and soul of a Knight, just as Merlin had said. He turned back to Sam who was now telling him about Excalibur.

"Excalibur," Sam said. "Mythical sword of King Arthur attributed with magical powers and associated with the rightful sovereignty of Great Britain. Given back to the Lady of the Lake by Sir Bedivere at Arthur's bidding." Sam squinted at the screen. "It says that Excalibur's scabbard was also magical protecting the wearer from dying through blood loss."

"Cool," Dean enthused. "Could be kinda handy in battle. We could so do with that sorta weapon in our arsenal."

Sam shook his head in despair at his brother's thinking. "It says here that Morgan le Fay stole the scabbard and threw it into a lake. It was never seen again," he flipped up his last saved web site. "And finally we have Mordred," he announced. "Who is one bad dude," Sam read from the laptop screen. "In all the stories he was always a Knight of the Round Table but a traitor to the King and the Court. He tried to overthrow Arthur. Betrayed the Knights and their ideals. He also died at the battle of Camlann."

"A bad ass then?" Dean chuckled.

"Yeah," Sam gave Dean a smile. "Some of the stories have Mordred as Arthur's bastard son. Other stories have him as Arthur's nephew. Some even have him as Lancelot's friend but he always remained the black sheep of the legend. Always trying to destroy the ideals of the Round Table as some sort of revenge over Arthur."

"Mmmmm," Dean got to his feet and began to pace the room. "So why did Merlin say that he saw Mordred?"

"Because the old dude's outta his head," Sam answered exasperated. "Dean," he said patiently. "He's not Merlin. And he hasn't seen Mordred. He's just a confused old man."

"May be," Dean muttered with no conviction. "But," he started to say.

"But what?" Sam interrupted. "Just tell me again why we're here," he said as he watched his brother drop onto one of the beds.

"Do we need a reason?" Dean asked quietly absently rubbing at his injured arm.

"Yes we do," Sam snapped his patience disappearing. "Dean. I know you. You believe in what we're doing and all the crappy supernatural stuff. But you always have a hard time believing in people. I've watched you snap and snarl not trusting them one little bit. Ever. But for some insane reason you're willing to believe some nutty old man that he's Merlin and we're all in danger from Mordred," he punched a hand in the air angrily as he jumped to his feet.

Dean leapt to his feet again and glared angrily at Sam. "I know I don't do trust or any of that touchy feely stuff but I do... I want to ... believe in people," he argued his eyes flashing with rage. He pointed his finger at Sam. "I believe in you," he snapped as he turned his back on his brother struggling to get his emotions under control. Dean was determined. Determined not to lose it in front of his brother. He began to pace up and down again keeping his back to Sam as he took in deep breaths forcing himself to calm down.

Sam's anger immediately faded at Dean's words. Dean had always hidden his feelings and emotions behind well constructed barricades built up and fortified over many years but he was surprisingly easy to hurt. "Ohh," was all he could think to say as he slumped back in to his chair. He silently watched his brother for a moment as he paced the room.

Dean took a deep breath and turned back to Sam. Sam immediately noticed that Dean's famous closed off expression was firmly pasted onto his pale face. "So I booked us in for the castle tour," he looked down at his watch. "In a couple of hours," he said stubbornly ignoring Sam's expression and shooting his brother a look that screamed we are not talking about this.

To Dean's relief after a moment of staring at him Sam turned back to the laptop and closed down some of the websites they had been looking at. "OK," Sam reluctantly agreed knowing that it would be stupid and a waste of energy to argue with Dean at the moment. "Two hours will give you time to rest," Sam said.

"I'm fine," Dean snapped. "I don't need to rest.

"Whatever," Sam mimicked Dean's favourite saying glaring at his brother.

Dean turned his back on Sam and rummaged through his duffel bag looking for his favourite knife. The uncomfortable, but now familiar, silence dominated the room bouncing off the walls with its intensity as both brothers silently gathered together their supplies - a gun each tucked into the back of their jeans, a bottle of holy water stuffed in Sam's jacket pocket and Dean's favourite knife concealed in his ankle sheath. Dean also stuffed their father's journal in the inside pocket of his jacket. They both swung around in unison as someone banged loudly on their door. As one they moved silently towards the door taking up their usual positions, Sam on one side Dean on the other his hand on the door handle. Gun in hand Sam nodded that he was ready as Dean cautiously opened the door and peered into the corridor. "What the hell?" he stepped back surprised as Merlin pushed into the room.

"I knew you would come. I had faith that you would," Merlin prowled the room inspecting every nook and cranny and touching the furniture, the comforters and the telephone. He was completely fascinated. "I knew that you wouldn't let me down," the old man glanced over his shoulder at Dean as he studied a picture on the wall. "Have you seen Mordred?" he asked.

Dean watched the older man circle the room as he replaced the gun into the back of his jeans. "How did you get here?" he asked puzzled.

"I am Merlin. And I have my ways," the old man replied haughtily as he fingered the curtains.

"Of course you are," Dean snorted softly. "But I thought the shrinks had you locked up."

"Shrinks?" Merlin questioned confused as he looked towards Dean before starting to prowl the room again mumbling to himself. "Shrinks. What are shrinks?" Can't get used to the language. It's all so strange," he muttered. "Must do some more research. But not time. So little time. Damn. Damn," he murmured under his breath.

Sam stepped quietly out from behind the door. "So you're Merlin?" he forced himself to ask as he replaced his own weapon. He glanced sideways pulling a face at his brother.

Merlin started slightly not having realised that there was a second person in the room. He stared at Sam who shifted from foot to foot suddenly uncomfortable as Merlin looked him up and down from head to foot studying him carefully. "Galahad," Merlin smiled as he moved towards Sam. "You're taller than I remember," he noted absently as he looked up at Sam who seemed to tower over him. "But I'm just an old man...and my memory isn't," he shook his head stopping mid-sentence. "No matter," Merlin turned towards Dean and scowled. "I thought you said you were alone?" he accused.

"Galahad?" Sam mouthed at his brother over Merlin's head. Dean shrugged giving a small apologetic smile that served to answer both mens' questions.

Merlin ignored them both. "Did you find it?" Merlin asked earnestly staring up at Sam again. "Did my prophecy come true?"

"Find what?" Sam asked confused. He looked to Dean and looked back to the old man carefully appraising him for a moment. Sam narrowed his eyes. There was something about the man, something that Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. He was obviously quite elderly but his bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement at Sam's confusion. The old man stooped slightly so Sam towered over him but somehow Merlin's presence seemed to fill the room and he found it disconcerting.

"I think he means the Holy Grail," Dean supplied with a small smile.

"What?" Sam repeated stupidly turning towards his brother again.

Dean sighed. "It's said that Sir Galahad searched for and found the Holy Grail," he answered. Sam stared at his brother surprised that Dean would know anything about Grail history. Dean fidgeted under the gaze and gave his usual dismissive shrug.

"I foretold that you would find the Grail," Merlin drew himself up to his full height, proud that his prophecy may have come true.

Sam snapped his head back to Merlin. "My name is Sam Winchester and that," he pointed at Dean. "Is my brother Dean. And I'm not Galahad. Not by a long shot. You are so on something," he accused.

"Sammy," Dean whispered in quiet warning.

Sam turned on his brother and glared. "Dean," he mimicked before turning back to the reason for his uncharacteristic ire. This man was the reason they were on a hunt when Dean should be resting. Sam scowled at the old man.

"On something. On something," Merlin chanted to himself trying to make sense of the strange words again. "I don't understand. But no matter," Merlin dismissed Sam's protest looking from one brother to the other. "Sir Bedivere and Sir Galahad. You make a likely pair. Not my first choice. But worthy and honourable," he smiled at both brothers. "We stand a chance of defeating Mordred's evil plan."

Sam rolled his eyes and slumped down on one of the beds suddenly realising why Dean had wanted to know about Bedivere. Merlin had mistaken his brother for another Knight of the Round Table. "Dean," he said in exasperation looking over to his brother.

Dean shrugged. "Merlin," he said. "How did you get here?"

Merlin gave a small shrug. "I told you I have my ways," he answered mysteriously. "Trust me." He looked from Sam to Dean. "Now we have to get Excalibur before he unlocks the protection."

"No, "Sam interrupted. "If we're gonna trust you," he pointed a finger at Merlin. "You have to trust us and we want to know how you escaped from Nimue's enchantment if you are who you say you are."

"Nimue?" Merlin's expression softened and he stared into the distance seemingly lost in his memories.

"Yes. Nimue," Sam folded his arms across his chest and waited patiently for the old man's answer. It was a test. If the man was in fact Merlin he would know about Nimue and the trap she had set him if the stories were in fact true.

"Sammy," Dean sighed.

"No Dean," Sam said firmly. "He wants us to trust him. Wants us to help him. It works both ways," he finished stubbornly. "Well?" he cocked his head to one side scowling at Merlin.

"Whatever," Dean said as he slumped into the chair by the desk suddenly tired. He absently glanced at the laptop open noting that Sam had left a website open listing the Knights of the Round Table. He tapped in the word Galahad and scanned the description before closing down the site. His shoulder was aching and he braced his arm against his chest in an effort to stop the pain. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to drown out the argument knowing that Sam, for some reason, was on a roll and he just didn't have the energy to intervene and act as a referee. The angry voices faded into the background, a soft drone, as Dean idly ran possible scenarios in his head over and over from all angles and arguments slowly formulating a list of possibilities to explain the current situation.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the younger man sensing the suspicion and hostility rolling of him in waves. "I don't know how I got here," Merlin answered truthfully with a shrug.

"Good answer..... not," Sam snarled unreasonably. He knew he was being unreasonable but he couldn't help himself. Sam didn't trust the man and was worried that he would somehow hurt Dean with his crazy stories and he was determined that his brother would never be hurt again, either by himself or anyone else. Sam Winchester was in full protective mode and nothing or nobody would get to his brother. Sam tightened his arms across his chest and glared. "Try again," he snapped ignoring the loud sigh from Dean.

"I knew Nimue. She was young and so beautiful," Merlin's face took on a wistful expression. "But," he said his expression suddenly turning to one of anger. "I was such a stupid old man believing that someone so beautiful would love me. Stupid old man," he mumbled as he began to circle the room restlessly. He whirled on Sam pointing a finger. "The witch trapped me... used my own magic against me. I taught her everything. Trusted her with my secrets and she betrayed me," Merlin shouted. "And you sit there and talk to me about trust."

"You still haven't told us how you got here," Sam persisted stubbornly raising his voice slightly. He felt a tinge of sympathy for the old man but pushed it firmly down.

"I told you I don't know," Merlin repeated. "The last thing I remember is Nimue's face ..... I think she imprisoned me with a powerful spell but even when she was locking me away I still loved her. And then I woke up in this strange place."

"Then what?" Sam pressed.

Merlin gave a small growl. "Then.... then I sensed Mordred," he muttered. "He was coming for me... so I gathered my wits about me and escaped hoping to find others loyal to the Round Table to assist me. But some person in some sort of uniform with shiny silver medallions found me wandering along the road. Didn't believe who I was and forced me to go to the place I met Bedivere," he waved a gnarled hand at Dean. "And they treated me roughly. Like some kind of madman. "Is this enough for you to trust me?" he asked.

Sam snorted. "In our line of business we trust no-one," Sam defended. "And especially not a man who claims to be Merlin who... who has been dead for centuries... and that's if he ever existed."

"Ever existed. Ever existed," Merlin stuttered angry. "I existed then and I exist now," he glared at Sam. "Heathen."

Sam bristled. "Now look here," he snapped. "You drop in unannounced prophesysing doom and gloom if we don't help you in some stupid quest for Excalibur," he waggled his finger at the older man. "You wrongly mistake us for Knights of your damn Round Table. And you expect us to trust you."

"How dare you speak to me like that," Merlin said angrily. "And treat me like they did in that vile place. You have changed Galahad," Merlin accused. "You were never so disrespectful. Young whipper-snapper," he muttered under his breath."

"Whipper snapper," Sam repeated incredulously. Oh give me a break." He got to his feet and glared angrily at Merlin who drew back his shoulders defiantly and glared back despite the height difference.

"So," Dean said loudly interrupting the silent face-off. "Have you both done with your pissing competition?" Dean smirked at the expression on both mens' faces as they turned towards him, both glaring, seemingly having forgotten that he was in the room. He had sat quietly listening to the two men argue and had finally decided that enough was enough.

"What?" Sam stuttered.

"I don't understand," Merlin frowned in confusion. "Pissing competition?"

"Never mind," Dean smiled at the older man. "I'll explain later," he said as he raised his eyes at Sam silently telling his brother to calm down giving him a reassuring nod.

Sam threw up his hands in exasperation. "I give up," he mouthed at Dean with a pout that made him look six years old. Sam turned to Merlin. "Just keep outta our way," he snarled.

"I don't need your assistance ," Merlin snarled back.

Sam's retort was interrupted by his brother's voice. "Sit," Dean barked. "Both of you," he scowled at both men. He nearly laughed when both men immediately sat on the bed unconsciously responding to the authority in his voice. They pointedly ignored each other folding their arms defiantly. "So I'm thinking possession," Dean said facing both men.

"You know of such things?" Merlin asked not able to disguise the surprise in his tone.

Sam snorted and went to open his mouth. "Can it Sammy," Dean threatened turning to his brother. Sam pouted again but shut his mouth biting at his lip as he stared down picking distractedly at the seam of his jeans. He felt guilty for attacking the older man but hell would freeze over before he ever admitted it to anyone and if he was really honest with himself his uncharacteristic aggression towards Merlin stemmed from the fact that the old man was probably part demon. It made him slightly afraid of the man and Sam admitted that he was afraid for Dean as well as himself.

"Possession is a dangerous black art. Such things should never be meddled with," Merlin warned. "But I always suspected that the black-heart of Mordred would practise such evil. And I am sure he would use it to his advantage." He pointed a long finger at each of the brothers. "We have to tread carefully. If Mordred has mastered possession you both could be taken."

"We're protected," Dean said assuredly. Merlin frowned not looking convinced by Dean's obvious confidence. "A good friend gave us each a charm to protect us against possession," Dean explained. He glanced sideways knowing that Sam would be wearing his best guilty look, the one he had been wearing for days. He wasn't disappointed and Dean sighed as he turned back to Merlin. "So do you think it's possible that Mordred escaped somehow and took possession of Pendragon?" Dean asked.

"Pendragon?" Merlin said.

"Yeah the dude that owns this place," Dean explained. "He changed his name to Uther Pendragon."

"Uther," Merlin uttered. "A good man. Strong. Like his son Arthur."

"Well he's not your Uther Pendragon," Dean said. "He just took his name because he's kinda obsessed with everything Arthur. And I have this weird feeling in my gut that this is where your troubles started."

Merlin nodded but Dean could tell that the old man didn't really understand. "So do you think Mordred may have mastered the possession gig?" Dean asked again.

Merlin frowned screwing up his face in thought. "I am sure of it," he finally replied firmly.

"I'm in the twilight zone," Sam muttered under his breath even though he could see where Dean was heading and he admitted to himself that his brother's thinking was probably on the right lines. It all fitted if Merlin was to be believed.

"Merlin," Dean said putting a hand up to stop Sam protesting any further. "You said you could sense Mordred. What did you mean?"

"All the Knights of the Round Table were attuned to each other. It's what made them strong, unique and unrivalled in battle," Merlin answered.

"And you could sense them because... well because you're .... well Merlin. Right?" Dean questioned shooting Sam another warning look.

"Yes," Merlin nodded. "It was the Knights' greatest strength and yet ... may be their greatest weakness." Merlin shook his head.

"Do you think he can sense you now?" Dean asked shooting Sam a worried expression that disappeared as soon as he turned back to Merlin.

"May be," Merlin bit at his lip. "But I have grown stronger than when I first awakened.... so may be not. But I sense him. His evil. It surrounds us here. And there are others. Others who secretly supported Mordred and his treachery."

"Great," Sam blew out a breath. "So we're screwed before we even start."

"Sammy," Dean warned quietly. "I'm thinking," he started to pace up and down. "That may be you weren't the only one enchanted by Nimue," Dean said. "What if all Arthur's Knights were imprisoned by her for whatever reason. May be she wanted to protect them from destroying each other. Or may be Mordred tricked her into helping him."

"I suppose it's a possibility," Merlin conceded. "Near the end the Knights were turning on each other. All Mordred's doing," he spat bitterly. "He was slowly destroying everything Arthur built up."

"But how did they get here?" Sam interrupted looking puzzled. "And where are all the good Knights?"

"I don't sense any others," Merlin murmured. "Just Mordred and a handful of his men."

"I'm getting there Sammy," Dean said patiently. "So what if Nimue made a mistake," he continued. "What if she imprisoned this Mordred guy as well along with all the other Knights. And hundreds of years later along came our Uther Pendragon and planted Camelot right here... and somehow Mordred managed to escape with a few of his bully boys. And now he's in this Uther Pendragon dude. And somehow he trapped all the other Knights so they couldn't .... well stop whatever it he has planned."

Both Sam and Merlin nodded in agreement. "It sounds kinda plausible when you put it like that," Sam reluctantly conceded. Dean smirked in triumph making Sam roll his eyes in annoyance at his brother.

"Excalibur is in danger," Merlin murmured.

"So Mordred wants to be King of England," Sam frowned still not a hundred per cent convinced. "And to do that he needs the sword because we all know that Excalibur is linked with the rightful sovereignty of Great Britain." He frowned again.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Who told you that?" he sneered. "That was a story made up for children," he patiently explained as if he were talking to a small child.

Sam glared at Merlin and folded his arms across his chest. Merlin ignored Sam. "And since my awakening I have read many of your stories and they are just that...... stories. Fabrications of the real truth," Merlin sniffed derisively. "Excalibur has many magical properties and is dangerous and powerful in the wrong hands."

"Well of course," Sam said sarcastically.

"Will you two give it a rest," Dean sighed his patience wearing thin. "You're giving me a headache."

"The sword had great power for the bearer," Merlin continued ignoring both Sam and Dean. "And Arthur was terrified that it would fall into the wrong hands.... evil hands. So he had me protect it with a powerful spell. One that not even Mordred could break." Merlin looked up at Dean. "And Bedivere was chosen as the Knight to protect and guard Excalibur."

Dean flushed bright red and turned away. "So what can it do?" Sam asked curious despite himself.

"I cannot tell you," Merlin replied. "Only Arthur knew its secrets. Even I do not know its power."

Sam snorted. "Not helping," he hissed. He narrowed his eyes at the older man - he had the strangest feeling that Merlin was lying to them about what he knew.

Merlin's snarky reply was interrupted by a knocking at the door. All three men turned and stared at the door for a moment. Dean shook himself out of his trance first and waved Sam and Merlin back behind him as he moved towards the door. "I will not hurt him," Merlin touched Sam's arm. "Only you have that power."

Sam's head snapped round and he stared at Merlin watching as the old man disappeared into the bathroom before he could utter an angry retort. He turned back to Dean who had now cautiously opened the door. "And you would be?" Dean asked stepping back slightly. Sam noticed his brother glance quickly around the room relaxing slightly as he noticed Merlin was no longer standing next to him. "Hey Sammy," Dean said with mock cheefulness. "It's the welcoming committee."

"Gentlemen," the man standing in the doorway gave them both a smile as he stepped uninvited into the room. "My name is Uther Pendragon and I'm here to welcome you to Carnival of Camelot."

To be continued

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-05-24T09:02:37Z

Rating:          General
Characters:   Sam and Dean
Disclaimer:     They don't belong to me, just playing with them for a while!

Summary:   Dean meets an strange man which throws him and Sam into an unusual adventure

Chapter Two
Meeting Merlin

Four hours later....

Dean shifted restlessly in the bed dreaming that he was being watched. He murmured in his sleep but still could feel the eyes boring into his soul as he slept and he muttered again feeling uneasy and edgy. Dean knew instinctively that it wasn't Sam watching him and his hunter instincts kicked in as he forced himself back to consciousness jerking himself awake. His body was tense as he fought against sleep and the painkillers he had been given. The room was silent and he relaxed slightly. He blinked several times and rolled his head to one side and came face to face with an old man peering at him through bright blue eyes. "What the hell?" Dean pulled back moaning in pain as the sharp movement jarred his shoulder.
Dean slowly and carefully pulled himself to a half sitting position and stared at the older man who he strangely felt no threat from. The man gave him a small smile returning the stare silently. Dean squinted at the man. He had short but straggly grey hair and a grey goatee. He was thin and withered looking and Dean couldn't guess his age but his bright blue eyes somehow seemed to belie his age. They were young, full of life and were scrutinising Dean carefully. Dean fidgeted under the intense scrutiny. "So I guess," he edged back slightly cautious despite the feeling that the man wouldn't hurt him. "You're not the new night nurse?" he asked.
The man cocked his head to one side. "I am Merlin," he suddenly announced.
"OK," Dean muttered wondering why he always seemed to attract the lunatics and escapees from the psychiatric ward.
"Confidante and loyal and trusted advisor to King Arthur," the man continued as though he hadn't heard Dean at all.
"I'll take that as a no then," Dean raised his eye brows.
"I am also prophet and magician to the royal court," Merlin continued with a hint of pride in his voice.
"You do magic?" Dean couldn't help asking despite the weirdness of the situation. He had always loved magicians as a child, found it fascinating and annoyed Sam by watching magicians on the television whenever he got the chance.
"Of course I do," Merlin replied haughtily. He scowled at Dean before turning his back.
"What kind?" Dean asked enthusiastically. "Do something now," he waved his good arm in the air. "Make something appear .... or something..... you know vanish," he clicked his fingers together.
Merlin glanced at the younger man over his shoulder giving him a strange look but never one to resist a challenge. He sniffed. "If you insist," he said drawing himself up to his full height. He put both arms in the air and mumbled something Dean couldn't quite catch. The old man spun round with a flourish sweeping his hands through the air. He frowned in confusion looking around the room and himself. Despite the weirdness of the situation Dean found himself searching the room too and felt strangely disappointed that nothing had happened.
Merlin turned to him. "I don't.... well I don't seem to be at my best at the moment," he admitted sheepishly.
"Dude," Dean grinned trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice and tone. "Tell me about it."
The older man gave Dean a small smile before turning and looking towards the doorway. Once satisfied that they were alone, he leaned in close to Dean. Lowering his voice. "What are you doing here?" Merlin asked.
Dean frowned confused. "Same as you I guess," he shrugged.
The old man looked over his shoulder towards the door again and despite himself Dean looked in the same direction. "Are you on a secret mission for our King?" Merlin pressed as he cocked his head to one side regarding Dean seriously.
"What?" Dean frowned in confusion again feeling like he had entered the twilight zone.
"Of course. Of course," Merlin stuttered. "You wouldn't be able to tell me," he put his hands up in the air. "I completely understand." He turned back to the second bed in the room.
"I don't understand," Dean said confused.
"Bedivere. Bedivere," Merlin gave a small laugh turning back to Dean. "You were always a clown. "You should have been the Court Jester not the noble Knight that you are."
"A noble Knight," Dean interrupted raising his eye brows in surprise and snorted. "My name is Dean Winchester and a noble Knight I aint.... not by a long shot." He gave a small laugh.
Merlin moved closer and lightly touched Dean's arm. Dean flinched at the touch which made his arm tingle with electricity. He stared down at his arm and then up at the older man suspiciously. "No," Merlin shook his head. "You have the heart and soul of a Knight. Trust me," he whispered.
"I only trust one person," Dean pulled back out of reach of the older man. "And he aint here." He scowled at the older man wishing that he hadn't made Sam leave.
"No matter," Merlin stepped back. "Are you alone?" he asked ignoring Dean's scowl. "Is one of our other Knights here with you?"
Dean sighed tiredly. "No. And no," he replied. "And I can't help you. And I'm definitely not this Bedivere guy."
The older man started to pace restlessly around the room mumbling under his breath and waving his hands in the air every now again. Dean couldn't hear what the man was saying and was starting to get dizzy watching as Merlin circled the room. If he hadn't been so tired Dean would have found it amusing. Instead he found it sad. Without warning Merlin stopped his fidgety pacing at the base of Dean's bed and stared at him. "But Excalibur is in danger from Mordred," he said earnestly. "Everything we of the Round Table believe in and cherish is in mortal danger. You have to help me."
Dean let out a long sigh rubbing at his forehead to ease the growing pain of the threatening headache. "No I can't," he replied reluctantly. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely. Dean felt sorry for the older man but his ramblings weren't making any sense and he was tired and in pain.
"Mordred is hiding," Merlin continued ignoring Dean's protestations completely. "Within another. But I have seen him in all his evilness."
Dean blinked at the older man not sure that he had heard right. "Whatever," he said softly hoping that Merlin hadn't noticed his reaction. "I don't understand," he forced out hoping that he sounded convincing. Dean stared at the older man not flinching keeping his face as expressionless as he could.
Merlin stared back with his piercing blue eyes. "I think you do," he accused softly. "And it is your destiny to protect Excalibur. Keep it safe. Safe from the evil that would possess it."
"Look," Dean pointed a finger at the older man. "I'm not this Bedivere dude or a Knight or.... whatever. I'm just... just Dean Winchester. Who don't believe he has a destiny or kismet .... or any of that crap. I'm just plain old me."
Merlin gave him a small smile. "I seriously doubt that," he replied with another almost knowing smile. "And I suspect that you are anything but ordinary Dean Winchester."
Dean shivered at the old man's perceptiveness deciding to go with his usual response. "Whatever," he said dismissively with another sigh. "And right now I'm totally wiped out and I'm gonna get some sleep," Dean slid down the bed and turned awkwardly onto his side closing his eyes hoping that the older man would get the message. "And you should do the same," he murmured.
After a few minutes Dean heard the old man shuffle to the other bed and within minutes he heard low snoring. Dean shifted onto his back and stared up at the ceiling lost in his thoughts. Dean knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The old man had started talking about destiny and now Dean couldn't get Sam and his possible destiny out of his mind. Random and disturbing thoughts bombarded his mind making his head pound even more in pain.
He knew deep down that Sam wouldn't turn evil but he was terrified that one day he would be forced to kill his own brother. Forced to watch his brother die at his hands. And to top that every time he closed his eyes Dean could see the look of pure hatred reflected in Sam's eyes as he cruelly pushed his fingers into the shoulder wound. Dean could feel his body trembling at his thoughts and he clenched and unclenched his fists in an effort to dispel the unpleasant thoughts and images that his mind insisted on conjuring up. Suddenly angry with himself he forced his eyes shut and tried to convince his body that he wanted to sleep. But within minutes his eyes snapped open not able to banish the sight of Sam laying dead in front of him. Dean cursed the mad old man and resigned himself to staring up at the ceiling for the remainder of the night with only the pain in his shoulder for company.

The next afternoon..............

They were sitting opposite each other in a roadside diner staring at the plastic covered menus in total silence. Sam risked a glance up at his brother. Instead of looking at his menu Dean was staring out of the window his usual unreadable expression fixed on his face lost in his own thoughts. He was still pale and his arm had been secured into a sling strapped across his chest to support his injured shoulder but Sam knew that Dean would be losing the sling very soon. Sam also knew that Dean was aware that he was being studied but his brother chose to stubbornly ignore him letting his gaze rest on the Impala through the window.
Sam sighed to himself hating the tension between them and for once in his life he couldn't think of thing to say to his brother. He turned his attention back to his menu and tried to decide between a chicken or steak sandwich.
But he couldn't get away from thinking about Dean. The hole in their relationship was like a gaping chasm stretching out between them. They both desperately wanted to leap across but neither had the courage, both filled with fear for the other. And their distance hurt Sam more than he cared to admit and even though he blamed himself for Dean's silence and misery, he also partly blamed their father as well. Blamed him for the secret he had saddled Dean with before giving his life away to the demon. The secret that was slowly tearing them apart leaving only the black cloak of silence between them, enveloping and surrounding them in its darkness. It threatened to choke and smother them with unspoken fear and veiled danger. They were both terrified. Sam was terrified of becoming what they hunted, even more so now. And Dean was terrified that he would have to kill Sam. It was straining their relationship to breaking point as each tried to help the other overcome and fight their own demons. Their childhood bond and love for each other, once lost but found again recently, smouldered under the surface as their only weapon against the fear and terror they both felt.
And if he was honest with himself Sam missed his snarky brother and desperately wanted him back. Sam was jolted out of his miserable thoughts by his brother's voice.
"Do you think he's OK?" Dean asked as he continued to stare out of the window.
"Who?" Sam asked confused.
"Merlin," Dean turned to look at Sam. "Do you think he'll be OK?" Dean couldn't really explain why the old man had gotten to him but he had for some reason. The old man's words spun around his head making him feel dizzy and he sighed to himself as he stared down at the menu unseeing.
"I'm sure he'll be looked after," Sam assured sensing that Dean had liked the old man. He hadn't met the man himself because he had arrived to collect his brother after the old man had been transferred up to the psychiatric ward, but Dean had spent half an hour talking about him before falling into a brooding silence. Sam sighed in exasperation. Dean never ceased to amaze him. His brother always came off as insensitive and uncaring but the truth was so different. Dean cared deeply about people but chose to show the whole world his devil-may-care and cocky attitude and most people never looked any further. His brother hid the real Dean deep within himself and Sam wished that people wouldn't judge the book by its cover. There was so much more to his brother than the Dean he showed the whole world.
"Yeah," Dean sighed not sounding convinced. "But them orderlies weren't too nice to him. Ass holes," he said under his breath.
"I'm sure they were only doing their job," Sam defended.
"Yeah but they didn't have to be so heavy handed," Dean retorted. "And they laughed at him."
"Dude," Sam said patiently. "He told you he came from Camelot."
Dean scowled and turned away from Sam grabbing for the complimentary newspaper and pretended to scan the headlines. He turned the page over and sat back in his chair his mouth open staring down at the newspaper. "May be he did," Dean pushed the newspaper towards Sam.
Sam quickly scanned the news story which reported on the opening of a new theme park called Carnival of Camelot. The theme park promised a taste of medieval life with thrill rides, the largest roller coaster to ever be built, a genuine castle and its grounds shipped piece by piece from England and a luxurious hotel set within the Park itself. In the centre of the article was a photograph of the man responsible for the project. Sam looked at the name and looked up at Dean. "You gotta be kidding?" he said incredulously.
Dean gave him a small smile. "Newspapers don't lie," he shrugged slightly at the sceptical look Sam shot him. "Well OK... they do but it says there in black and white that his name is Uther Pendragon," he tapped a finger on the article. "And geek boy ...... if I remember rightly he was King Arthur's father."
Sam looked over at Dean speechless. He gave a small nod, not really knowing what to say. He glanced down at the newspaper again noting that the theme park was only fifty miles away. "Dean," he said reasonably.
"Don't Dean me," Dean scowled at Sam. "We're going. We gotta check this out," he slid out of the booth and headed towards the door.
"Dean," Sam snapped himself out of his trance. Grabbing the newspaper he headed after Dean. "It's just a coincidence," he called after his brother still vainly holding onto the hope that he could convince Dean that he needed to rest and heal properly. But deep inside Sam knew it was a lost cause - Dean had the scent of a possible hunt. He sighed in exasperation.
"I don't believe in coincidences," Dean snapped over his shoulder as he headed towards the Impala.
Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation as chased after his stubborn brother. "Dean," he repeated closing his eyes against the slam of the Impala's door. Stopping in his tracks, Sam dropped his head defeated and stared at the ground for a moment knowing that his brother wouldn't listen to him. Dean was in determined mode. "Why me?" he looked heavenwards shaking his head in exasperation.

To be continued.......

Pendragon's Legacy

2008-05-22T21:05:06Z

Rating:          General
Characters:   Sam and Dean

Disclaimer:
Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while!

Author's Notes:
Set somewhere in Season Two after Born Under a Bad Sign.

Summary:
Dean meets a strange man who throws he and Sam into an unusual hunt.

PENDRAGON'S LEGACY
by Eryn

Chapter One

Commencement

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam slammed down the coffee cup in his hand on the side. Angrily he advanced on his stubborn brother who was in the process of trying to untangle his legs and feet from the blankets.

"Getting outta here," Dean glared at Sam through slightly blood shot eyes as he finally extricated his legs and feet from the blankets. He stood up swaying for a moment as his feet touched the cold tiles. He gripped his IV pole tightly trying to gain his equilibrium determined not to fall flat on his face in front of Sam wanting to prove to his brother that he was alright.

The brothers stared at one another each challenging the other to make the first move or sound. The silence echoed around the sterile room as they both stubbornly regarded the other, one with his arms folded, the other desperately clinging onto his IV pole. They glared trying to out-stubborn each other.

Sam swept his eyes up and down his brother's form taking in his appearance. He was used to Dean looking strong and healthy but his brother just looked ill. Except for two round circles on his cheeks the flushed redness of the fever had all but disappeared but the remainder of his face was bleached of all colour making his hated freckles as well as the numerous black and blue bruising stand out starkly in contrast to the paleness of his skin. Sam couldn't help flexing his knuckles knowing that he had been the one to put the bruises on Dean's face. Had been the one to torture his own brother. The guilt and shame he felt within him spiralled up another notch and he felt his stomach clench. Sam forced himself to look back at his brother. Slightly hunched and clinging onto his IV pole Dean was holding his arm across his chest in an effort to support his injured shoulder. Sam felt immediately sick again and shivered slightly as the reality of what he had done while possessed came rushing back to him in a flash. He saw it all in his mind in glorious technicolour and he flinched against the memories of what he had been forced to watch. The glimpses had been fragmented and blurred but he had clearly seen the moment when he had shot his own brother. He could still feel the heavy familiar weight and the cold steel of the gun in his hand as he aimed at Dean. He even remembered the sound of the gunshot as it echoed in his ears and the dull thudding sound of his brother falling. And then silence. Sam shivered again as he continued to stare at Dean.

Dean sighed in frustration. He could almost feel Sam's guilt bouncing off the hospital room walls. His younger brother's body was almost vibrating with guilt and shame and Dean could see it plainly reflected in Sam's eyes. Dean had forgiven Sam days ago and as far as he was concerned it wasn't Sam's fault and he would never ever blame him for what he had been forced to do when he had been possessed. The past was the past as far as Dean was concerned. But Sam as usual had his own guilt party going on and Dean wondered if Sam would ever forgive himself. Dean sighed again suddenly bored with their staring match. "Stop it Sammy," he stubbornly straightened up as much as his aching body would allow him and gave Sam his best cocky smile as he started to shuffle towards the closet concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. His whole body ached and he felt like an old man but Dean was determined to get out of the hospital and getting his clothes was the first step.

Sam shook himself out of his self-loathing. "Oh no you're not," Sam reached Dean and tried to herd his brother back towards the bed. Dean dodged his attempt but stumbled nearly falling as he let go of the IV pole in an effort to avoid Sam and his long arms. "Dean," Sam snapped angrily as he caught his brother before he hit the floor. Gripping Dean firmly by the elbow he used his height advantage to force his hard-headed brother back towards the bed.

"Dude," Dean jerked his arm away from Sam. He sank back onto the bed relieved that he was sitting. Dean couldn't believe that the effort of getting across the room had sapped his strength but hell would freeze over before he admitted it to Sam. "Just go be a nice little brother and get a pen and sign me out."

"No," Sam folded his arms across his chest and set his expression. He could be stubborn as well. "You're staying right here until the doctor says it's OK for you to leave."

From Sam's tone Dean knew that his brother meant it. "I hate you," he sulked.

"I know," Sam said. "But you're still staying put." Without giving Dean any warning he grabbed his brother's legs gently and swung them back up onto the bed. Pressing home his advantage Sam lightly pushed Dean back against the pillows.

"Sammy," Dean squeaked scowling. "Quit it with the shoving stuff."

"It's for your own good," Sam couldn't help smirking as he flicked the blankets over his brother tucking them in neatly. Satisfied that Dean wouldn't try another escape attempt Sam retrieved his coffee and slumped down in the chair next to the bed.

"You should have been a girl," Dean baited. "Florence aint got nothing on you Samantha," he began to fiddle with the plaster keeping his IVs in place. "But I'm going nuts in here."

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration. "You've only been properly awake a couple of days." He slapped lightly at Dean's hand. "And leave that alone. Or I'll get the nurse to wrap your hand .... like they do the little kids."

"Stop with the slapping man," Dean pouted. "Injured man here."

"I know," Sam said softly as he turned away from Dean not able to look his brother in the eye for a moment. He struggled to get his emotions under control glancing down at his arm staring distractedly at the dressing, a clear and painful reminder of the hurt he had inflicted on Dean.

Dean cursed his stupidity as he saw the guilt appear in his brother's eyes again. He shifted slightly wincing in pain as he jarred his shoulder. He bit at his lip hoping that Sam hadn't noticed. "Stop it Sammy," Dean said firmly. "It wasn't you. How many times do I have to say this. It wasn't you. It was her. That bitch Meg. She shot me not you. Got it?"

"But," Sam bit at his lip as he looked back towards Dean almost always expecting to see accusation and blame in his brother's expressive eyes. It surprised him every time when he could see nothing but love and understanding reflected in the greenness. Deep down Sam knew that Dean would never blame him. The shame and guilt was all in his own mind, of his own making. He was punishing himself for the hurt and pain he had caused his brother and deep down, Sam knew it.

"No buts," Dean held up his good hand stopping Sam mid-sentence. "It's done. Over. Let's just put it down to the crappy life we lead. OK?"

"I can't," Sam replied. "I can't. I shot you Dean. I hurt you. You're here because of me. It's all my fault," he said miserably. Sam could feel his guilt trying to strange him again and he took a deep breath to fight off the suffocating sensation pulsing through his body.

Dean sighed frustrated at not being able to convince his pigheaded brother that he wasn't to blame for anything and certainly not his injuries and the infection was just bad luck. "It's no big deal," he muttered off-handedly.

"Yes it is a big deal," Sam exploded at Dean's total lack of concern for his own health and welfare. The guilt he had been carrying around for days flared into anger. Sam could feel his blood boiling and he lashed out. "You were unconscious for three days man. Three days. You had to have emergency surgery. You just got the drain outta the shoulder and they have been pumping you full of God know what to fight the infection," Sam jumped to his feet and began to pace up and down the room. "The damn infection was really really bad," he turned glaring at Dean. "You coulda died or ..... or lost your arm," he choked.

"But I didn't," Dean interrupted quietly trying to keep his tone calm.

Sam scowled at him on a roll with his anger. "You should have told me about your shoulder. You should have let me take care of it. But oh no Dean Winchester knows best. Indestructible Dean Winchester," Sam snapped angrily. "Did you think that I wouldn't care? You always take care of me. But you never let me take care of you," he accused glaring at Dean. "I'm not a little kid any more."

"I know," Dean stared down at the blankets idly fiddling with a loose thread. "But you're kinda acting like one now." He stared up arching an eyebrow at Sam willing his brother to calm down. He was tired, his shoulder throbbed, his head was aching and he really didn't want to fight with his brother any more.

Dean's calming words and silent pleading seemed to deflate Sam's sudden burst of anger and he flopped into the chair again. He pulled a face at Dean. "You scared the crap outta me," he admitted.

"I know," Dean admitted reluctantly. "But it's over now... and I just wanna get outta here."

Sam glanced at Dean. He looked exhausted and Sam decided that the subject of him shooting Dean would keep for when his brother was feeling stronger. He was determined that he wouldn't let it go. They would talk but now was not the right time. "OK," he agreed with a small smile.

Dean returned the smile pleased that Sam was seeing it his way for once. He was determined that they would not be talking about it again, ever. "I hate this place," he grumbled trying to get comfortable. He winced in pain as he jarred his shoulder again. "It sucks big time."

"You always say the same thing," Sam couldn't help a small chuckle escape at the expression on his brother's face. "But if your tests all check out the doctor said you can may be leave tomorrow or the day after." Sam smirked at Dean having decided yesterday that they would also be staying put for a few days to allow his brother to heal and rest. And he was determined to stick to his plan but hadn't as yet gotten around to sharing his intentions with his brother. Sam was waiting for the right moment but already had all his arguments, good ones, planned out in his head. They weren't hunting for at least a week, may be two. Sam turned his attention back to Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes in frustration. He narrowed his eyes at Sam taking in the rumpled clothes and weariness reflected in his brother's expression. "Why don't you go back to the motel and get some sleep?" Dean suggested. "You look like crap."

"Says the man in a hospital bed," Sam quipped. "I've salted and burned better looking corpses than you."

"I'm just not at my best," Dean defended with a smirk. "My handsomeness has gone on vacation.... but it will be back," he waggled his eye brows at Sam. "And then none of the nurses will be safe."

"That's not even a word," Sam protested.

"Sammy," Dean said earnestly. "I'll be fine. OK? Just go and get some rest and then come back tomorrow to break me out. Please," he said attempting his own version of Sam's puppy dog eyes.

Sam sighed. "OK," he agreed. "But no escape attempts while I'm gone. Deal?" he held out his hand.

Dean grinned up at him. "You are such a girl sometimes," he teased as he slapped Sam's hand. "No trying to escape. Promise." He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes not able to believe how tired he was. Sensing that Sam hadn't moved he cracked open one eye. "Go," he ordered.

"I'm going. I'm going," Sam protested as he watched Dean close his eyes again. He couldn't help himself and he watched for a moment as his brother relaxed and descended quickly into sleep. Sam smiled to himself. The hardened battle weary hunter disappeared and was replaced with the child that Dean had once been. Sam cocked his head to one side studying his brother as he slept. Still pale and bruised with his cheeks still slightly flushed with the fever that had raged through his body from the shoulder wound, Dean somehow looked almost angelic as his features relaxed and smoothed out completely as sleep chased away the pain, tension and stress of his everyday life. With another smile Sam left the room to head back to the motel even more determined that they wouldn't be hunting for a while.

Famous last words.......

To be continued

Hustle

2008-05-13T17:29:54Z

Rating:      General
Summary:    Set after first season episode - The Benders
Characters: Sam and Dean
Type:          One shot

Summary:   Dean isn't telling Sam something and Sam is just annoyed!!

HUSTLE
by Eryn

"So you gonna ask me?" Dean flopped down in a chair opposite Sam. He stared at his brother willing him to look up.

Sam ignored Dean tapping away on his laptop. He reached for his beer and took a quick swig. "No," he replied turning back to his research without looking at Dean. Sam knew that his actions would annoy Dean but he just couldn't resist baiting his brother for a change. He bit the inside of his lip so he didn't laugh. He could feel Dean staring at him and fidgeting in his chair. He doggedly tapped at random keys ignoring Dean determined not to look up or ask the question.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam shifting in his seat trying to get comfortable. He jarred his shoulder and he cursed under his breath. Leaning back in his chair, Dean idly surveyed the bar as he raised his hand to his shoulder hoping that Sam wouldn't notice the movement. He pressed his hand to his shoulder trying to stop the pain from the burn.

Dean stared around the bar again. It was his kind of bar. Noisy patrons, loud music, smoky and the waitresses were hot. With his other hand he took a swig of his own beer. Turning in his seat, Dean caught the eye of one of the waitresses and signalled for another two beers. Dean flirted with her for a moment when she brought their beers over and removed their empty bottles. Dean stared after her as she walked back to the bar. Sam didn't even look up just grabbed the second bottle of beer and took a swig.

The burning sensation in his shoulder subsided to a dull ache and Dean dropped his hand holding his arm across his chest to stop the weight of his arm pulling on the burn. Dean turned his attention back to Sam narrowing his eyes at his brother. He was going to win this time. Dean shifted in his seat again. Leaning forward he picked up a beer mat and tapped it in time to the music. He wiggled and fidgeted in his seat and "accidentally" jolted their table. He grinned knowing that Sam was weakening. He could read his brother's body language so well. Dean knew he risked being hit with the laptop but he just couldn't help himself. He could smell victory. With a small smile Dean kicked his brother's shin under the table.

"Dean," Sam looked up scowling at his brother. "That hurt," he said rubbing at his shin. "And it wasn't fair. You cheated."

Dean raised his eyes at Sam at the comment. "What are you? Five?" Dean teased.

"I'm not the one fidgeting like a little kid and kicking the table. And then me," Sam glared at Dean. Dean grinned mischievously. He relaxed his arm not wanting Sam to notice that he was in pain. Instead he gave Sam a triumphant smile. "You're such a girl. It was just a little tap," he folded his arms carefully across his chest. "So you gonna ask now?"

Sam scowled at Dean but gave up. He leaned back folding his arms. "OK," he said. "How much did you hustle this time?"

Dean gave him a hurt look. "I didn't hustle this time," he protested. "I was just an innocent bystander."

Sam raised his eyes. "Dean Winchester and the word innocent in the same sentence is one hell of a notion for me to get my head around," Sam teased. He gave Dean a small smile to take the sting out of his words but also because he knew that his brother was telling the truth. Dean hadn't been looking for a pool game he had been challenged to one by a group of scruffy looking men.

Sam had watched fascinated as his brother played winning every game, except the first two games, easily. Dean had circled the table as though it was prey he was stalking measuring up every angle and slant of the table as he carefully took each of his shots the balls disappearing down the pockets one by one. Sam also knew that Dean losing the first two games wasn't bad luck. It was his brother's way of sizing up his opponents. During those two games, Dean would have learned and memorised his opponent's strengths and weaknesses and then used them against his challenger in the following games.

Dean's movements were fluid and graceful and his face never gave anything away remaining neutral and almost disinterested. Sam had noticed before that Dean was never cocky and over-confident when he was playing and it paid off every time. Sam himself had a hard time working his brother out so complete strangers had no chance at all. And Dean used it to his advantage. Sam was a decent player. Dean had taught him when he was eight. But Dean was an excellent and efficient player his skills honed over many years and even their father had given up trying to beat his brother. Sam turned his attention back to his brother with a smile.

"Whatever dude," Dean turned away scanning the bar area again. Sam studied his brother again. To a casual onlooker, Dean was just looking around the bar. But Sam knew better his brother was checking for any potential trouble or danger for them. Even when Dean was casually walking around a bar, Sam knew he was in full hunter mode ready for anything or anyone. It annoyed him most of the time, but it also made him feel safe. Always had done ever since he had been a child.

"You didn't have to take up their challenge," Sam said evenly. "You coulda said no."

Dean turned back to him. "A Winchester always accepts a challenge," Dean replied simply. "It's against the rules to say no."

Sam snorted. "Who made these stupid rules up?" he asked knowing full well that they were Dean's own rules.

Dean grinned. "I did."

"I shoulda known," Sam rolled his eyes. He leaned forward. "Do these rules count even when you're hurt?"

Dean glared at Sam. "I'm fine," he snapped. He turned away from Sam pretending to look around the bar again. There was no way that Dean was going to let Sam see where the freaky family had burned his shoulder. Sam was already feeling guilty enough about getting him hurt and Dean wasn't going to add to the guilt.

Sam nodded slowly staring at his brother. The cuts and bruises were starting to fade, but Sam knew there was another injury, one that Dean wouldn't let him see. Sam had noticed Dean favouring his left shoulder and wondered just what Dean was hiding from him. Sam felt a stab of guilt knowing that it was his fault although deep down he knew that Dean didn't blame him at all. He just couldn't help himself. He sighed. Sam hated it when Dean was being stubborn, but he could be just as stubborn and he was going to find out. He also knew the injury was the reason that Dean hadn't been hustling pool earlier. Sam smiled to himself. Even with an injured shoulder his brother had easily beaten his challengers.

Sam sighed again. He didn't want to fight with Dean so he decided to say nothing more about the injury for now. "So," he said. "Go on. I know you're dying to tell me. How much did you win?"

Dean turned back to him with a grin his bad mood forgotten. "Three hundred and twenty," he said. "Should pay for our room and keep us in gas and food for a couple of days or so." Dean took another swig of his beer.

Sam nodded with a smile. "And keep you away from credit card scams for a while," he said as he put the lid of the laptop down. "Man I hate when we have to do that."

Dean scowled at him. "Those scams keep us from sleeping in the Impala. Buys us gas and food. Quit complaining. I don't ask you to do it."

Sam ignored Dean. He knew that his brother was right but hell was going to freeze over before he admitted it. "I'm heading back to the room. You coming?" he asked.

"No. Gonna hang out here for a while," Dean turned eyeing the pretty waitress again. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean looked around again. "Here," he leaned forward surreptitiously pressing a wad of notes into Sam's hand. "Put this in our safe place," he instructed.

Sam stuffed the notes quickly into his pocket nodding. He collected his laptop and stood up. Dean stood too starting to follow Sam towards the door. "I thought you were staying," Sam said confused.

"Just gonna make sure you get back to the room OK," Dean shrugged.

"No you're not," Sam hissed. "The motel is just across the parking lot. I'm not a little kid Dean."

Dean pulled a face. "Last time you left a bar alone you did a disappearing act on me," he accused. "And it aint happening again. Not on my watch."

"Dean," Sam hissed again. "Go hustle some more... or go play with your little waitress," he snapped suddenly angry with his overly protective brother. "And stop being an asshole." Sam saw a flicker of hurt cross Dean's face and he immediately felt guilty. "I'll be fine," Sam softened his tone. "I promise not to get kidnapped. OK."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment. He wanted to protect Sam wanted to make up for his recent failure. But Sam was right, he wasn't a child anymore. "OK," he shrugged. "But I aint coming after this time," Dean stated. "You're on your own Sammy," Dean turned back heading towards the bar.

"Fine with me," Sam pushed the door to the bar open. He took a quick look over his shoulder. Dean was heading back over to the pretty waitress. Sam shook his head and stepped out into the fresh air.

An hour later, Dean leant on the bar nursing his beer. His shoulder was aching again and he closed his eyes against the pain. Dean knew that the pool games hadn't helped his shoulder but he could never resist a challenge. But now he had to admit to himself that the pain was making him feel sick and he pushed the beer bottle away. He didn't even feel like flirting with the waitress who had been giving him the eye for the last half an hour. Dean sighed to himself as he pushed himself away from the bar. He tossed some bills on the counter and moved towards the door deciding that after a good night's sleep he would be as good as new.

The cool air hit him as Dean stepped outside. He swayed slightly and grabbed for the handrail for support. He took a couple of deep breaths before starting down the steps and across the parking lot towards their room.

He heard them before he saw them. They were behind him and Dean swung around to be faced with three of his challengers. He rolled his eyes slightly but grinned cockily. "Gentlemen," he said. "Nice evening for a walk."

"You cheated," the smaller of the three accused stepping forwards. "And we want our money back."

Dean put his hands up in surrender. "You challenged me. And I beat your asses fair and square," he protested as he edged backwards glad that he had given the money to Sam to hide.

"Well now we want our money back," the middle man sneered edging closer to Dean. "Now."

"Yeah now," the taller man snapped as he lunged forwards. Dean expected the move and stepped smoothly to one side. The man sailed past and hit the ground with a grunt.

"Jeff. You OK?" the smaller man shouted keeping his eyes on Dean who was still edging backwards away from the men.

Dean considered taking his chance and running but he knew he probably wouldn't be able to outrun all three men. "Great," he sighed to himself deciding that his only option was to fight and hope he got in some lucky punches before they beat him senseless.

"Yeah Steve. You and Aaron get him," Jeff hissed as he scrabbled to his feet.

Dean looked over to the other two men. They both moved forward. Dean moved backwards knowing he couldn't dodge them both. Dean struck out hitting Aaron a glancing blow before turning on Steve hoping to get in a punch. Steve caught him by surprise by grabbing his arm and twisting slightly and painfully. Dean let out a yelp of pain as Aaron joined Steve and the two men dragged him into the alleyway between two sets of motel room blocks. Dean squirmed in their grip kicking out as they forced him into the alleyway. His foot connected with Aaron's shin. The man let out a yelp before back-handing Dean across the face re-opening the healing cut on his forehead.

Dean could feel blood running down his face and he grit his teeth against the pain as they slammed him up against the wall holding him tight. He writhed trying to get free but they tightened their grip. "Now what?" Steve asked over his shoulder.

"Now we teach him a lesson he won't forget," Jeff snarled as he balled his fist and slammed it hard into Dean's stomach. Dean knew what was coming and tried to twist out of the way. Jeff's fist hit him in the stomach taking his breath away. Dean bent over double as his other two attackers let him go laughing loudly.

Rubbing at his stomach and taking a deep breath Dean straightened up glaring at Jeff. Before Jeff could take a step forward and aim another punch Dean narrowed his eyes and jabbed his elbow to one side hitting Aaron hard in the ribs. Aaron huffed in pain bringing his arms around his middle. Jeff hadn't expected the move and stopped in surprise. Dean took his chance and kicked out slamming his foot hard against the man's knee pushing with all his strength. Jeff lost his balance and dropped to the ground again. Quickly bringing his arm up Dean made a fist slamming it backwards connecting with Aaron's face. Aaron squealed in pain as his head bounced off the brick wall and he slumped to the ground dazed his nose broken and bleeding.

Ignoring Jeff, Dean turned on Steve and hit him with a right hook. Staggering backwards Steve ducked Dean's second blow. Recovering he threw himself at Dean catching him a glancing blow to the chin. Dean stumbled and fell to his knees. Steve moved forwards quickly and kicked Dean in the stomach. Steve cackled a triumphant laugh stepping backwards. The laugh spurred Dean on and with a groan he dragged himself to his feet. He swayed slightly before drawing himself up to his full height. Confident, Steve went to hit Dean again. Dean dodged out of his way and jabbed a surprised looking Steve again hard in the middle of his face. With a howl of pain Steve put his hand up to his nose wiping at the blood. Growling he advanced on Dean. Dean was ready for him and hit the man hard again in the face. Steve stumbled backwards hitting his head on the wall. He slumped to the ground unconscious.

Scrabbling to his feet, Jeff launched himself at Dean smacking him in the eye. Dean stumbled again but managed to get his own punch in, his fist connecting with the man's jaw. Dean bit at his lip as Jeff grabbed his left arm. Pain lanced through his shoulder and tears of pain sprang to his eyes. Jeff grinned at his obvious pain and twisted Dean's arm again. Dean cried out and tried to push Jeff away with his good arm. Jeff hit him in the stomach again and Dean reeled back nearly losing his balance as he managed to shove Jeff away from him. Dean dodged to the left as Jeff took another swing at him. Taking a deep breath against the pain Dean kicked out with his right foot connecting with Jeff's stomach lifting him off the ground a few inches. Jeff clutched at his stomach groaning before dropping to his knees his head resting on the ground. Dean put his foot on Jeff's side and pushed him over onto the ground. Jeff looked up at Dean and glared.

"We're done here," Dean swayed as he surveyed the three men on the ground. He held his arm across his stomach. "And I don't cheat," he hissed as he started to jog along the alleyway. Dean decided to head away from the motel and double back in a half hour or so in case they decided to follow him.

Half an hour later.....

Dean checked both ways before heading towards their room. He felt like his shoulder was on fire, his stomach felt bruised and his eye and head hurt. His whole body felt battered and the pain was making him feel dizzy. Dean's legs felt like a lead weight but he forced his feet forwards until he reached their door. He took a deep breath hoping that Sam was in bed asleep. Opening the door Dean sighed in relief the room was in darkness. He stepped quietly into the room but staggered and accidentally knocked the table. Dean steadied himself by clutching the edge of the table.

"You better not be drunk," Sam murmured from one of the beds. "Because I'm not cleaning up after you."

"I'm not drunk," Dean managed to say trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. Feeling shaky Dean hung onto the table afraid that his legs would give way. His once heavy legs now felt like jelly and he tightened his grip on the table.

"Good," Sam huffed as he turned over pulling the comforter further up. Sam was angry at Dean. Even though he said he wouldn't Sam had seen his brother standing at the door to the bar watching as he crossed the parking lot towards their room. Sam had seethed all night about Dean continuing to treat him like a small child. He lifted his head and pummelled his pillow into shape. He slammed his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

Dean ignored Sam's obvious bad mood and focussed on the bathroom door willing his feet to move. "You can do this," he encouraged himself. He took a step forward swaying again but managed to make it to the bathroom closing the door behind him. Dean stared into the mirror. A pale blood streaked face stared back at him. "You look like hell," he murmured to himself as he poked gently at his blackening eye.

He carefully slipped off his over shirt and then his t-shirt which made him want to howl in pain as he lifted his arm up. Dean studied the purple and black bruising which had started to form across his stomach and he rubbed lightly at it with one hand. Moving one hand upwards Dean carefully fingered the dressing he had put on the burn that morning and gently peeled it away. The skin around the burn was red and raw and the wound was open as the blisters had burst and were oozing slightly. The pain seemed overpowering for a moment and Dean took a few deep breaths pushing down the urge to throw up. His body was tired, hurt and only his stubbornness had kept him on his feet. Dean looked back towards the mirror and blinked twice as his reflection seemed to fade into a misty light that threatened to overwhelm him. His knees began to buckle and Dean grabbed onto the wash basin. Dean could feel himself falling down into a black hole and vaguely felt his body hit the floor. He surrendered to the darkness.

Sam turned over and punched his pillow again. He squinted over to the other bed. It was empty. "Dean," he raised his head up looking around the room. The bathroom door was still closed and Sam turned his head concentrating. He heard a thump. Sam rolled his eyes and laid his head back down on his pillow. "You can sleep on the floor for all I care," he thought to himself angrily as he closed his eyes. He immediately opened them again - something was nagging at him. Sam sat up searching his memory for what was bothering him. He switched on the bedside lamp. And then it came to him in a flash and he leapt out of bed heading towards the bathroom. It was the way Dean had spoken to him when he came into the room. It hadn't been right Dean hadn't sounded like himself.

"Are you OK in there?" Sam hammered on the door. Silence. "Dean," he yelled again before pushing the door open to see his brother laying on the floor unconscious. "Dean," he rushed forwards dropping to his knees. Carefully pulling Dean onto his side Sam checked his breathing. It was deep and even. Dean's face was flushed although he looked extremely pale. He glanced at Dean's other injuries gasping in horror as his eyes rested on his brother's reddened shoulder. Cursing Dean for his stubbornness he retrieved a damp cloth from the basin and gently wiped Dean's face cleaning the blood from the re-opened cut on his forehead.

Dean began to mumble as he regained consciousness. He swatted at the cloth with his hand. Dean opened his eyes. He blinked trying to focus. The mist cleared and Dean looked up at a worried looking Sam staring down at him. "What happened?" he muttered struggling to sit up despite Sam's efforts to try and push him back down onto the floor.

"Looks like you went ten rounds with a truck," Sam said giving up trying to keep Dean laying on the floor. He helped his brother sit up before running the cloth under the cold water again.

"I think the truck won," Dean groaned as he leant back against the side of the bath tub.

"You look like crap man," Sam pressed the cold damp cloth to Dean's eye hoping that it would take some of the swelling down.

"Ouch," Dean tried to pull away. "You're hurting Doctor Heavy-Handed," Dean swatted Sam's hand away holding onto the cloth himself. "Where did you learn your bedside manner?"

"From you," Sam shot back. "And don't be such a baby." Sam grinned as Dean glared at him with one eye. "And just what the hell happened?" Sam asked.

"Guess my pool friends weren't good losers," Dean answered with a grimace as he started to drag himself to his feet. "They thought I was hustling them. So they kinda thought they'd teach me a lesson."

"And you thought I needed watching to walk across the parking lot," Sam shook his head. He watched Dean struggle to his feet and cursed his stubborn brother but knew it was useless to try and get Dean to stay sitting on the floor.

Dean glared at him again. "They came up behind me," he defended. "But I left them on their asses feeling sorry for themselves."

"And you need to sit down before you fall on your ass again," Sam protested as he moved to his brother's side.

"Whatever dude," Dean ignored Sam pulling away from him as he moved slowly towards the door. He swayed suddenly and grabbed for the door frame to steady himself.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation and took Dean's elbow firmly steering him towards the bed. "But you weren't hustling tonight. You were an innocent bystander," he repeated Dean's own words.

Dean shot Sam a sideways look raising his eyes in surprise. "I thought my name and innocent didn't belong in the same sentence," Dean grinned at Sam as he sunk down onto the bed.

"It's a special occasion," Sam quipped.

Dean chuckled which turned into a groan as he leaned forward holding onto his bruised stomach. "Damn that hurts," he admitted through gritted teeth.

"I'll get you some ice for the bruising in a moment," Sam said as he grabbed their first aid kit. "Let me look," Sam bent down and pressed his fingers up and down Dean's stomach and abdomen. Dean hissed in pain at each touch. "Sorry," Sam apologised. "I don't think you broke any ribs. Just badly bruised."

Dean nodded as he closed his eyes. "I don't need ice. Your fingers are cold," he complained.

"Don't be a girl," Sam teased as he turned his attention to finishing cleaning up the cut on Dean's forehead fixing a dressing in place. With a deep breath he turned his attention to Dean's shoulder. "So," he said looking at his brother. "This is what you've been hiding from me?"

Dean opened his eyes and stared at Sam. He shrugged wincing at the movement. "It's no biggie," he muttered.

"Yes...... Yes it is a biggie," Sam argued. "Dean. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look Sammy," Dean sighed. "What can I say .... bad stuff happens sometimes," he shrugged again. "They were freaks and they got their kicks outta burning me. But what they did to me was nothing compared to what they did to those other guys. And what difference would it have made if I had told you.... oh yeah you'd feel guilty all over the place."

"Would not," Sam sulked but knew that Dean was right but was damned if he was going to admit it to his brother.

"What's done is done. And it's over. OK?" Dean continued determined.

Sam studied his brother's determined expression and he sensed this was an argument he wasn't going to win. He sighed in surrender. "OK," he said reluctantly. He peered closely at Dean's shoulder. "I think we should take you to the Emergency Room. It looks bad," he said.

"No," Dean replied. "There's some burn dressings and cream in my bag. Just patch me up. And I'll be good to go."

"Dean," Sam protested although he grabbed for Dean's bag and scrabbled about until he found the sterile dressings and cream. "I still think you need professional treatment at the hospital."

"OK," Dean conceded. He hissed in pain as Sam carefully dabbed cream on and around the burn area.

Sam stared at him in surprise. "Really?" he couldn't help asking. Dean nodded. "I'm glad for once you see it my way," Sam smirked in triumph. "I'll just put this on temporarily and then we'll get going." As gently as he could Sam laid the dressing over the reddened area and secured it with some tape.

"Yeah. You can take my shoulder," Dean grinned at Sam. "But the rest of me aint coming along on your little trip."

Sam's triumphant smile faded immediately. "You win this time," he muttered angrily knowing that he was never going to get his brother to the hospital unless he knocked him out first. Sam toyed with the thought for a moment before dismissing it deciding that he wanted to live to see his next birthday. Mumbling under his breath Sam got up and pulled the pillows off both beds and arranged them on one bed. "You are so..... so," Sam was lost for words for a moment.

"Cuddly, handsome, loveable," Dean helped him out with another grin.

Sam pulled a face. "Lay back and don't move," he pointed at the pillows. "I'm gonna get you some ice for your eye and stomach." He grabbed the ice bucket from the table.

"Yes sir," Dean teased as he struggled to lay back against the pillows. He sighed as he lay back into their softness. "Thanks Sammy," Dean murmured as he closed his eyes.

"It's Sam," Sam shot back. "And when I get back you are showing me how to apply for a fake credit card. I was never as good as you and Dad. So it's about time you showed me the finer points."

"It'll be a Dean master class," Dean grinned as he opened his eyes to look at Sam. He cocked his head to one. "You sure Sammy?" he asked. "I thought it was against all them principles of yours."

Sam snorted. "What principles? I think you're a bad influence on me," he pointed a finger at Dean. "And you are not hustling for a while."

"I thought you said I wasn't hustling tonight," Dean couldn't help saying. He shot Sam another grin.

"Dean," Sam said frustrated as he pulled a face at his brother. Dean just grinned again. "I am getting ice. You are not hustling for a while," Sam said determined. "And you are teaching me how to apply for a fake credit card."

"My Sammy's all grown up," Dean teased.

"Jerk," Sam pulled the door open.

"Bitch," Dean countered as the door slammed behind his brother.

End