((//SCREAMS BECAUSE I CANT PUBLISH OR TAG THAT SUBMISSION ON THE NOOK BUT I WANT EVERYONE TO READ THAT MAGNIFICENCE// HOW DO YOU WRITE SO PERF MOTHER OF CHUCK))
Notes: I know absolutely nothing about Mexico. So anything about Mexico in this is completely BS'd.
"I don't see why we need to go to Mexico to do this." Sam muttered as he sat on the table with his legs dangling over the edge. The laptop propped up in his lap as he continued researching for their latest hunt. Dean was busy making the final corrections on their newest fake ID badges. Border control. Dean seemed almost too excited to be doing it. "Garth said there was some shit going down in Mexico. Big shit and considering everything we've dealt with? Who better than us?" He glanced up from the badges briefly, giving a satisfied smirk before lifting them up. "Whatcha think, Sammy? Think they'll pass?"
Sam glanced from his laptop. No real expression across his face except for the raising of his eyebrows. "John Entwistle and Charlie Watts? Really, Dean? I mean.. Okay I get your fascination with the rock culture.... but come on. We can't go across the border with the names of some dudes from The Who and The Rolling Stones. No one will believe it."
"Stop being a pain in the ass. They aren't obvious names. Charlie and John are perfectly common names. Not our fault our parents had famous last names." As far as Dean was concerned, that was the end of that conversation right then and there. Sliding the badges into their leather cases, Dean tossed one as Sam before sliding his own into his back pocket. "Find anything interesting?"
Sam rolled his eyes before continuing on the laptop. "Not really... Garth said it's something big. Mentioned a jaguar being spotted at the scenes out in the woods which really doesn't make much sense to me. Why would a jaguar be there?"
"You thinking a shifter?" Dean slid into the chair in front of Sam, his legs kicking up and being propped on the table. "Maybe, but a shifter isn't our thing really. If it's something big it wouldn't be a shifter. And sending us to Mexico? It makes no sense." Sam scratched the back of his head before sighing in frustration and closing the laptop.
"You know we can't afford to drive clear down there, right?" It was something Sam had been avoiding bringing up just as badly as Dean was avoiding thinking about it. "We leave tonight we can make it there by the weekend." He mumbled quietly, wanting to continue avoiding the idea of them actually having to consider the best option. Dean was not on board with the idea of flying. "And waste a bunch of gas. Dude I get you want to drive the impala everywhere possible, but we can't afford it. Plane tickets would be cheaper."
"I just got us a couple shiny new credit cards under our lovely new rocker names. We can afford it just fine." It was pointless to continue arguing. Maybe it was a better idea to just drive. It'd keep Dean focused and not stressed. Last thing they needed to deal with was Dean having a meltdown on an air plane...again. "Fine. Whatever. We need to get packing. You wanna pack or you want to call Garth to get the rest of the information?" "I'll pack. Garth doesn't know how to shut up when I get him on the phone."
Several hours later, they were loading and unloading the Impala much to Dean's protests. "I'm not leaving all my guns behind, Sam." Dean grumbled as he tossed the last of their bags on the ground beside the car. "Will you stop acting like a spoiled little brat?! It's bad enough we're driving across the border. We cannot do that with a car packed full of unregistered guns. Garth said there's a hunter down there we're going to be meeting up with. He's got plenty of guns and everything else we'll need. So get over it and help me finish cleaning out this mess." There was a series of mutters and curses before he finally started helping. Once everything was taken care of, the batcave was locked up tight and they were hitting the road.
Getting past border control was more difficult than Dean suspected and for once he had to admit Sam was right. Even with the badges, the car was searched thoroughly before they were allowed to pass through. "Told you so." Sam mumbled as he stared out the window. Dean rolled his eyes and turned Megadeth up even louder with the purpose of annoying Sam as much as possible.
Several days later, the two were pulling up on a dirt road in what was easily the middle of no where. "Good fucking thing I filled up at the last gas station we spotted." Dean muttered bitterly, though the Impala was already on a quarter tank. "This is why I said we should have flown." Dean shot Sam a glare as he pulled up beside a rusted, rough looking pickup truck and shut her off. "Yeah well.." He couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he shot Sam a glare and curled his nose as he stuck his tongue out behind Sam's back.
A man stepped out of the house that was falling apart. A shotgun in hand as he raised it up. "¿Qué es lo que quieres?" The man yelled in a thick accent. Both men stopped walking as they stared at him, neither of them exactly understanding a word that had been shouted at them. "We don't... " Sam stumbled, trying to find words from years back in Spanish class. "No hablan español. I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean. Garth sent us." For a moment the man stared at them, eyes narrowed.
"Look man, you can put down the shotgun and let us in to get this shit taken care of or we can drive our asses back across the border and let you deal with it yourself." Dean was leaning around Sam to get a better look at the man before shrugging his shoulders and starting to walk back towards the impala.
"Wait. You the Winchesters? John's boys?" That caught Dean's attention immediately. Dean turned on his heels and was immediately stalking towards him. "Yeah. We're John's boys. You got a problem with that?" Sam raised one of his hands to stop Dean from stalking further towards him. "Dean take a chill pill." He whispered before stepping forward. "Look we've been driving pretty much nonstop for days now. We're both tired, he's bitchy and I personally want a shower."
Slowly the shotgun was lowered before the man nodded his head. "Vamos. There's a shower around back." The man waved his hand to hint to the two to follow him. After a moment Dean and Sam followed to the door. "Don't be starting anything, Dean." Sam practically hissed at his brother as they walked into the door. "Me?! He's the one who pulled a goddamn shotgun on us." "Yeah and we're in Mexico, we're a couple white boys who just pulled up on someone's property that didn't know us. You'd be pulling a shotgun out too." Sam did have a point.
After being directed to where this outside shower was, Sam disappeared outside while Dean paced around the house. Sitting down not seeming too appealing after the fact his butt was planted in the leather seat of the impala for longer than usual. "So you gonna give me your name or am I going to have to start calling you José?" The man turned, glaring at Dean. "We don't take to racism down here. You say something like that around some of the other hunters and they will not hesitate to shoot you." Dean rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. "It's the most Mexican name I know. Don't blame me for going with that."
The man sighed before reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of tequila. "The name's Hector." Without another word, Hector poured a couple glasses of tequila and slid one over to Dean. "Well, Hector, you going to fill me in on what's going on around here?" Dean raised the glass up and took a hefty drink from it. Grimacing at the liquid burned on its way down. "Wait for your brother. He's the smarter one, correct?" The comment was offending to say the least. Dean didn't comment, though. Merely pressed his lips into a tight grin and continued drinking.
A few minutes later Sam came walking back into the house drying off his hair. He slid into the bar stool beside Dean and took the glass poured for him, nodding his head in thanks before taking a careful drink. "So Garth didn't give us too much on what's going on down here. Mind explaining a bit better?" Hector nodded, refilling his own glass and Dean's before getting into the details. "Can't say for certain. People keep winding up dead. Strange ways too. All injuries are self inflicted. Usually cause of death." "So how do you know it's not just a bunch of suicides?" "The last victim was my brother. He wasn't the suicidal type. He'd gone on a hunt. Rumors of a shifter bothering the town. A jaguar running around. There are none native around there."
Dean remained silent, processing everything while drinking the liquor. "Garth mentioned a jaguar when he told us about this. What do you think it has to do with the deaths?" Hector shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Can't say exactly. Might be something, might be nothing at all."
"Maybe a witch? Could be forcing these people to kill themselves and its familiar could be a jaguar. Make the familiar watch to make sure everything goes smoothly...." Sam finally offered. It seemed like a better idea than just a shifter running around. "What's a familiar?" Hector asked, obviously confused. "It's a witch's companion. Kinda like a soul mate kinda deal. They usually take forms of animals. Met a couple witches that had dogs and cats, never heard of a jaguar though..." Dean was quick to answer. "It's not unheard of, though. We don't exactly keep up with what goes on in the witch community." Sam offered. The three continued tossing the idea around.
Dusk was beginning to set in, the air cooling off finally. "You two must be exhausted. Why don't you sleep and I'll try to get more information on everything?" Dean and Sam nodded in agreement to Hector's proposition. "There's a spare room down the hall. Sorry it's nothing fancy. Don't exactly have company too often." "It'll be fine. We've been sleeping in the car the last few days." Standing up, the three headed down the hall and into the room. Dean grimaced to himself as he looked at the stained mattresses on the floor and the chipped walls. "I miss my bed.." He muttered to himself which lead to an elbow going into his ribs. "We appreciate it, Hector." Hector nodded his head as he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the Winchesters to make themselves at home in the room.
Dean walked over to one of the mattresses on the floor, kicking it slightly. "Man... I think I'd rather sleep in the Impala." "Dean." Sam hissed, shooting him a glare as he sat down on the bed. "You gotta cut it out. He didn't have to let us stay here." "Yeah well.. I don't like it." He muttered as he laid down, not bothering with undressing. Who knows what had been on the mattress before him. "Just go to sleep." Surprisingly it took no time for the boys to fall fast asleep.
Sam's making noises, they sound so slutty and pornographic. He's rocking up against Benny's the vampire's fingers tangled tight in Sam's hair, and he's making these loud noises. And he comes all over his stomach with Benny's fingers up his ass, and hand in his hair, and Sam he's all scarlet but he wants it. He needs it. He wants to get fucked. "Please." He begs. "Please fuck me." Sam breathes out his voice a rush and a wreck as he moans low in his throat, and heat spreads though his cock.
It was Dean who carried Sam's body into the house. It was Dean who took the time to make sure his clothes were presentable and that he wasn't covered in blood. When Bobby stepped up to try to help, Dean snapped at him. Told him that Sam was his little brother, his responsibility and it would be him to take care of him. So Bobby stepped aside, gave Dean his space despite being able to hear everything Dean was saying.
And Dean admitted everything in some type of hope that maybe Sam would just open his eyes. Admitted that there was no point of him continuing if Sam wasn't there. That he was a failure at protecting the only person that mattered in the world. It was at that moment he decided on making the deal. When he'd left? He told Bobby he was going to gather wood so they could give Sam a proper hunter's burial. What he didn't tell him was what he was really going to do. That he was going to do whatever it took to do what he always set out to do. Take care of his little brother.
That's why there was no hesitation when the demon told him one year. One year was all he needed. One day with Sam would have been more than enough for him.
Maybe right before Sam dies - and he only has a second to do it - he breathes, "I love you," against the warmth of Dean's neck. Just like he'd refused to collapse before Dean could catch him, he refuses to die without Dean knowing the truth.
