Now that Sam and Dean know that Bobby decided to stick around and not go with his Reaper, they face a tough decision. Keep Bobby with them? Or help him move on for good?
Post episode scene for 7.19.
"Do you think this is far enough?" Dean indicated a sign ahead that said ‘Bar’.
Sam nodded, “Yeah, I’d say we’re out of range.”
Dean swung the car into a parking space and got out.
"This ain’t right Sam. I feel bad."
"I know. Me too. But we’ve gotta talk and we can’t do it with him around."
"Yeah but leaving him behind like that…."
They’d entered the bar and were making their way to a booth in the back.
"We told him we were going out. We’ll explain later. He’ll understand."
"Hmm maybe…" Dean mumbled as he slid across the seat. "Don’t make me feel any better though."
Sam simply shrugged.
A waitress came to take their order. “What can I get you two?”
"Just a couple of beers sweetheart." Dean said, flashing her a weary smile.
"You got it," she said and Dean absentmindedly watched her sashay away.
"So, what are we gonna do?" Sam asked.
Dean turned to his brother and sighed. “I don’t know Sammy, I don’t know. What can we do? I mean, short of burn the flask, which obviously we are not going to do.”
My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys - a Supernatural Fan Fiction by sweetondean.
Dean was excited. Really excited. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. It’d been a while. Now he felt giddy, giddy like a little boy. The whole idea of going back to the old west had him grinning from ear to ear. Sam was looking at him like he was an idiot, but he didn’t care. Cowboys, real cowboys and saloon girls, real ones in petticoats and corsets. Damn. This was a great idea and it was all his. Time travel back to 1861 and grab some Phoenix ash. Not only that meet Colt. Samuel Colt. The Samuel Colt. Yep, Dean sure was excited. Sam? Not so much. He’d never understood Dean’s love of all things western. From the moment Dean suggested the idea, Sam had had his nose in a book. Researching the Phoenix, reading Colt’s journal, trying to gather as much information as he could before Cas zapped them back in time. All that was great, it was going to be helpful, but Dean knew what they really needed. Yup, Dean knew exactly. So while Sam and Bobby were paying him no mind, Dean snuck out.
Ever since he was a kid, Dean loved cowboys. In particular, he loved Clint Eastwood. Clint could do no wrong as far as Dean was concerned. His love affair with the lanky actor started back when Dean was 10. They were staying at Pastor Jim’s for a while and Dean had been going to school like a regular kid. He came home one afternoon proud as punch with his report card clutched in his little hand. John took it off him expecting to see the usual mixed bag of low marks, the usual comments about his smart mouth in class, but instead the report card was glowing. Dean had passed all his subjects and not only that the teacher seemed to really like him. John looked down at his eldest son, a wide smile spreading across his face. He was so proud of the kid. With everything going on around him, with being dragged from one town to the next, with being in 4 different schools in the past year, somehow Dean had still managed get half decent grades. John ruffled his eldest son’s head “Good work Dean, how about you and me do something to celebrate.” John was thinking the something was like go out back and shoot a few bottles off the fence but Dean looked up at his dad, green eyes wide and asked, “Can we go to a movie dad?” John blinked. The kid literally never asked for anything. It didn’t matter what John asked for, Dean would do it no questions, but he never asked for anything in return. Sam, on the other hand, was already starting to assert his will, but not Dean. John looked down at Dean’s expectant face. How could he refuse? “Ahhh sure kid, I mean if there’s something on.” Dean ran into Pastor Jim’s kitchen and came back with the newspaper. “Dad, there’s an old Clint Eastwood movie playing in town, I don’t know what it’s called, but some of the kids at school were talking about it. It’s a cowboy movie. Could we go to that?” Dean shoved the newspaper into his father’s hands. John quirked an eyebrow, took the paper and flicked through. Sure enough, A Fistful Of Dollars was playing at the local cinema. John looked down as his eldest son beamed up at him, “Hey Jim,” John called out, “Would you mind watching Sammy for a couple of hours while Dean and I have some man time?” John winked at Dean. “Sure,” Jim said, “Sammy and I can think up something to entertain ourselves, right kid?” Sam looked up from his colouring book and nodded. “OK, thanks, I owe you one, well I owe you about a dozen, but….we’ll be back in a bit.” John grabbed his keys, “You ready Dean?” but before John could even finish the sentence Dean was out the door and in the car.
A Fistful Of Dollars was everything Dean had hoped it would be. The ticket seller had looked a John a bit funny when he bought a ticket for a kid obviously too young for the movie. If he only knew the kid could shoot a gun better than most adults and could drive a car in a pinch. Dean had wanted popcorn but John didn’t have enough money for tickets and snacks. Dean patted his Dad’s arm and told him it was ok. It broke John’s heart. John watched Dean, his eyes glued to the screen as the movie started and Clint’s character drifted into town. A name-less stranger. A hero. But not in the typical sense. He did what he had to do. He killed when he had to kill. He saved the girl. He saved the family. He did it all with a quiet authority and then he was gone. Dean…was…hooked. From that day on, Dean wanted to be a cowboy. He watched every western that came on TV. When dad was out on a hunt, Dean would sit up late, watching Eastwood, Wayne, Cooper. When on his eleventh birthday he got his own gun, he practiced for hours drawing and shooting like his wild-west heroes. He practised Clint’s steely-eyed look of determination. The cool he didn’t have to practice, the cool came naturally. Now all these years later, he couldn’t believe he was actually going to get to put it all to good use.
Every time Sam and Dean headed out to Bobby’s they drove past Wally’s Western World and every time Dean thought to himself, one day I’m gonna go buy myself something from that damn shop. As Dean started up the Impala he grinned, today was that day. He already knew what he wanted, he wanted to look like Eastwood, but he’d have to get something for Sam too. He couldn’t go back to 1861 looking the part while his gigantor brother looked like a spaceman. There was part of Dean that wanted to buy something really, really horrible for Sam, just to pay him back for rolling his eyes over this whole western deal, but it’d been a long time since he bought anything for Sam, a long time since they’d brought each other presents, so Dean decided he’d get something he thought Sam would like, as much as he was tempted to do otherwise.
How long had it been since he’d bought Sammy clothes? He remembered when they were growing up dad had sent him off with a pocketful of money to get him and Sam some clothes from the thrift shop. Their dad always made sure they had clothes on their backs. They never really wanted for anything like that, but it was seldom new. Dean thought back to one time when dad was away on a long hunt and Dean had to take Sammy to his first day at a new school. Sam had shot up over the summer and was getting to be as tall as Dean. Consequently, his jeans were now halfway up his legs. There was no way Dean was letting his little brother go to school looking like that. There was no way Dean was letting his little brother get picked on for being the poor kid, even though he knew Sam could defend himself. So Dean went shopping. He didn’t have any money other than what dad had left them for food, but when had that ever stopped Dean. He’d been swiping things for as long as he could remember. Dean went into one of the larger department stores in the neighbourhood they were staying in and tried on some jeans. He tried on four. He put back two. The other two he wore, under his own. He walked straight out of the store, wearing three pairs of jeans. It was the first-time in a long time either Sam or him had anything new. When dad came home he looked over their crisp new Levis suspiciously, but he never said anything. Even now Dean seldom had new jeans. Most of his jeans had holes in the knees or a tear somewhere from some fight or another. He only bothered to get himself something new if his clothes were so torn they were unwearable or so covered in blood they were unwashable. Sam was less hard on his clothes and took a bit more pride in what he wore. So Dean wanted to make sure he got Sammy something nice.
Dean walked into Wally’s Western World and felt like he was in Heaven. In fact it felt better than Heaven and Dean would know. All around him were cowboy hats, boots, shirts, coats. A guy could go crazy in here if he had enough money. Dean didn’t. He had a few hundred bucks he picked up the other night hustling a game of pool. It wouldn’t get him very far. Dean saw a pretty girl in the corner hanging some waistcoats and made his way over to her. She turned and looked at him. It always caught Dean off guard the way girls looked at him. Most of the time their jaw dropped. He was always slightly startled by it. Not that he wasn’t well aware he was above average in the looks department, Lord knows he’d used them often enough, but still, it never ceased to surprise him. “Can, can I help you?” the girl stammered slightly. Dean looked down at her nametag. “Ah yes, Jeanie,” he emphasised her name and smiled. He thought he heard her inhale. “I’m looking for an outfit, something traditional, something for me and I’ve also got to get something for my brother.” Jeanie put down the clothes she was holding. “Traditional? What are you wanting the clothes for, day wear or….line-dancing…or….?” Dean laughed. “No, no. Christ no. Not line-dancing. Day wear, but proper western day wear, like cowboys would wear, like they wore in the old west.” Jeanie nodded. “Ok, do you need a whole outfit?” “Well, probably just a couple of shirts and a couple of hats, boots I guess and…” Dean drifted off as he saw what was hanging on the wall, “and that.” He pointed. Jeanie turned and looked. “The sarape?” she looked at him her eyebrows raised. “Yep. The sarape.” Dean beamed.
After about an hour Dean had everything he thought they needed. He’d got himself a black shirt, with white piping and buttons on the cuffs. He thought maybe it was a bit fancy but Jeanie said he looked nice in it. He also bought himself a waistcoat, a bolo tie and new belt with a shiny silver buckle. He grabbed himself a hat and of course, the sarape. For Sam he got a belt with a huge buckle to go with his huge body, a hat and a shirt. The shirt wasn’t easy. Everything was a bit fancier than Sam usually liked. Sam’s tastes were pretty simple and he tended not to wear too many colours. After deliberating longer than he was comfortable with, Dean settled on a white shirt with a little bit of embroidery on the shoulders. Admittedly the embroidery was of yellow roses, but it was subtle and it was the least fussy white shirt in the place. He hoped Sam would like it. The size was a bit of a wild guess. He figured if he was a XL Sam must be a XXXL at least. Lastly he grabbed them both a pair of boots. Jeanie asked if he needed new pants as they didn’t wear jeans in the old west, but the boots had tapped Dean out, so they were just going to have to go in their jeans. As he headed to the cash register he grabbed one last thing, a Marshall’s badge. Sure it said Marshall of Olde Western Town, but he figured no one would get close enough to read it.
Jeanie boxed everything up and handed Dean his purchases in 3 brown paper bags proudly emblazoned with the Wally’s Western World logo. Jeanie then handed Dean her phone number. Dean smiled and politely said something about calling her as he shoved it in his pocket….if he had a dollar…. Back in the Impala he put his parcels on the front seat next to him and sighed happily. That was a lot of fun. Dean had actually had fun. He shook his head. It’d been a while. Starting up the car he laughed, hells, he was off to the old west today, the wild west, he was off to 1861, he was going to go to a saloon, he was going to meet saloon girls, he was going to meet Samuel Colt, Sam and him were going to meet Colt! Dean grinned and thought, damn, this is going to be a good day, I really hope Sam likes his shirt….
So that was my latest fan fiction! Let me know what you think. - Amy
You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean
Dean cocked his shotgun and fired a salt round into the Demon closest to him. It would slow it up, but not for long. He put his hand in his pocket and grabbed another couple of shells.
“Sam” Dean yelled, “I’m running low here, where the hell’s Ruby’s knife”?
Sam lunged forward and splashed holy water across the face of a second Demon. It screamed, turning to snarl at Sam as the flesh of its meat-suit sizzled and burned.
“I don’t have it”, Sam yelled over his shoulder, “It must be in my duffle”.
“Christ”, growled Dean, “I’m gonna to have to go get it”
Turning to his brother, Dean tossed his shotgun across the room, “You got this”?
Sam caught the gun easily in one hand, cocking and firing it in a single movement. “Yep” he yelled, as the shots blasted the third Demon rushing towards him, “But hurry Dean”. Three against one were still bad odds.
Dean turned and ran into the bedroom.
Shit. “Where is it, Sam”?
“Under the bed” yelled Sam, as he cocked and fired the gun again.
Dropping to his knees, Dean felt around under the bed. ”Tidy freak” he grumbled, as his hand touched canvas. “OK, I got it” he yelled and quickly hauled Sam’s duffle onto the mattress.
After a moment of frantic rummaging, Dean was relieved when his hand found the hilt of the blade, but as he pulled Ruby’s knife free from the tangle of t-shirts and dirty underwear, something else caught in his fingers
Looking down Dean was startled to see a familiar piece of thin black leather. Hanging from his fingertips was his amulet. The amulet Sam gave him when they were kids. The amulet Dean tossed in the bin after their unpleasant trip to Heaven. The amulet he thought was long gone
Dean stared at the tiny piece of gold now in the palm of his hand. “The kid must have saved it from the bin”, he thought, “Stashed it in his bag”. He let out a low chuckle. “Well I’ll be damned”.
“Anytime you’re ready Dean”, Sam yelled from the other room.
Dean jumped and chuckled again shaking his head. Smiling to himself he dropped the amulet back into the bag, covering it with Sam’s gigantic clothes. “Hold your horses Sammy”, he yelled, “I’m coming”, and with that he grabbed Ruby’s knife and ran to help his little brother.
This story is dedicated to my friend Sarah, who really loves the amulet!
This is only my second fan fiction, so I’d love to hear your comments. Please feel free to leave feedback. Thanks for reading!
You can read more of my work here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~sweetondean