Fic: A Town Called Rhoda (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 1 of 7

[smalltrolven]

Back to Masterpost

*****

***THEN***

The nicest Leviathan that we ever knew, was how the brothers always remembered her. Eleanor Visayak had left her beautiful house in San Francisco to Bobby, as well as her cabin in the redwood forest a few hours north of San Francisco. Those two homes and all of her money were thus redirected over to Sam and Dean when Bobby passed away, because Bobby’s will had left everything to the brothers. Hell of a way to come into “family money” but that’s how weird their lives had always been.

The lawyers dealing with Eleanor Visayak’s estate had gone through hell trying to find the brothers. Probate had taken years and years, and by then the boys were ensconced in the bunker, and mostly off the grid. The lawyers had finally found a PO Box address in some of Bobby’s papers and sent one last communication to the brothers. Sam and Dean happened to stop by one of their oldest original post office boxes, the only one that they’d thought to prepay for ten years. It was on the way back from a case and they needed to stop for the night anyway. After getting a motel and some dinner, they stopped in to see if there was anything in the box and amongst all the junk mail and a few issues of Dean’s old subscription to Busty Asian Beauties, there was a big, thick envelope with a return address from a law firm in San Francisco.

All of a sudden, the brothers had to decide whether to sell their new properties or go try to live in them. It was strange to realize that there were so many options spread out before them, kind of like they were regular people all of a sudden. It was almost overwhelming after all these years being at war, huddled up in the bunker, lives intertwined just to survive it all. They could split up, stay together, Sam could go back to school in the San Francisco Bay Area. Dean suggested he try to get back into Stanford law school and finish his degree. After a whole lot of angst trying to live together in Eleanor’s house in San Francisco, they decided to split up for a while, just to see how it went.

Sam continued living in the house in San Francisco, and instead of Stanford ended up at the University of California, Hastings Law School, a much closer commute. Sam was excited to dive back into school and really enjoyed living in San Francisco. It wasn’t enough of a substitute for not having Dean around of course, he missed him like crazy, but he knew that Dean was trying his best to let him go. That’s what the moving to Rhoda thing was all about. It didn’t matter what Sam wanted or needed. Dean thought it was best, that Sam deserved better or some crazy thing like that. Sam didn’t want him to let go, he always wanted to stay with Dean, but if Dean really didn’t want him enough to get over his issues, then he needed to actually let go all the way.

Dean didn’t like living in a big city, it was just too much after getting used to small towns and the intimacy of the bunker. He took to spending more and more weekends and then weeks away at the cabin which was in a teeny town named Rhoda in the middle of the Mendocino forest. He proposed a compromise after a few months of commuting. He was much happier living in Rhoda and Sam was obviously happier in San Francisco. The two places were far enough away that they could have their own separate lives. They could actually try to make their own friends but still be able to easily see each other when they wanted to. Dean was trying his hardest to finally let Sam go live his own life. He knew Sam didn’t agree, his brother really didn’t want a separate life, he wanted Dean to be in it with him. But Dean couldn’t bring himself to think he deserved that sort of happy ending (or Sam for that matter).

They got together in San Francisco for the Christmas holidays and Dean made an offhand comment about them maybe trying to get back together because he missed being with Sam. Sam blew up at him (mostly because of work and school stress) and told Dean that he couldn’t do it anymore. He said that he knew they belonged together, but Dean really didn’t know. Because he kept changing his mind and jerking Sam around. Sam told Dean that it meant that they were over, he couldn’t keep going back and forth. Sam didn’t see how he could make it work to fit a maybe relationship with Dean in the new life he was working so hard on making for himself when Dean didn’t even want to be in it. Maybe later they could work it out, but Sam didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it on top of school and his job.

Dean just left after that big blowup, without really having the fight. It probably made Sam even more angry to cut and run, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. He didn’t really have one. It was stupid to run, but it was too late to go back, once he was already over the Golden Gate Bridge. Too much pride, mixed up possessiveness, a lifetime of everything they’d fought through and survived together. Maybe Sam was right, it was finally time to try it on his own.

Then a couple days after Dean had gotten back to Rhoda, and was almost over the epic hangover from his two-day post-fight-drunk-fest, several nukes from North Korea hit the West Coast on New Year’s Eve. One nuke landed right in the middle of San Francisco, in the middle of the night when Sam would definitely be at home. When he heard the news Dean was paralyzed with grief at the certain loss of his brother. Demoralized by Sam’s death, he just stayed put in Rhoda, because what was the point? He knew that it was a direct hit and the entire city had been flattened, there were no survivors in San Francisco as far as anyone knew. Then pretty much immediately after that, there was no more news coming from the South, martial law was soon established, there were no more media reports and right after that there were no more radio broadcasts.

Dean tuned out the initial breakdown of society because it was too hard to think about. He couldn’t help but think that if only they’d stayed together through to New Year’s Day like they’d planned, then maybe he’d be dead too, instead of left behind to mourn and what—try to move on? Yeah right, like that was gonna happen. Instead he had left like a pissy little bitch, didn’t stay and fight for what he needed and wanted. And now Sam was dead and there were no more second chances. No more demon deals to be made or angel solutions or reaper interventions available, dead was dead for now and forever.

Dean had a lot of work to do on the cabin, to shore it up in case things got even worse in the outside world, so he mostly focused on that. He put all his effort into working on installing a series of low-tech perimeter alarms, like trip lines that would work well on humans. He was no longer worrying about the supernatural baddies they’d fought over the course of their hunting lives. Chuck had said all that was over before he had left them the world and taken the angels along with him.

The end of the world as the brothers knew it happened and their attempt at having separate regular lives had ended with it. Dean knew that Sam was gone, and there was no way for him to contact Dean even if he had survived. No cell phones worked. No land lines either. There was something about an EMP that fried everything up to a certain point. The post office was no longer a thing. At least the roads were still mostly there—for now. But the remaining gas had to be scavenged or fought over. He was really glad he installed those solar panels last year and hoped they kept working. If he had to be stuck in this post-apocalyptic hell at least he had hot water—for now.

*****NOW****

Late one lovely warm August night, eight months after the nukes had wiped out both his brother and the city that Sam had come to love, Dean awoke when he heard an unexpected noise in his cabin. None of the perimeter alarms had gone off, so it was obviously someone who knew how to be careful. And that likely meant trouble. He grabbed the gun out from under his pillow and sat up slowly so the old brass bed frame wouldn’t squeak like it usually did. He was really glad Blair wasn’t staying over here tonight.

Dean stood up, eyes straining in the dark, and heard a footstep in the hall. He was close to the bedroom door when it opened. Dean launched himself at the large figure and wrassled them down to the floor, losing hold of his gun in the process. They tussled back and forth, fighting for control. He finally had the dude pinned when the moonlight from the window highlighted his attacker’s face. Somehow, it was Sam. His brother was bearded and wild-eyed and a fucking beautiful sight to behold.

“Dean?”

“Fuck, Sammy? Is it really you? How, I mean—what the hell?” Dean asked, gasping for breath from the tussle. He was apparently more than a little out of practice with sparring.

“Yeah, Dean it’s me. I wasn’t there in San Francisco when it all happened. After you left me that day, the last day we talked, I left too. I went down early to Los Angeles for a conference for school and the nukes didn’t all go off there like they did in San Francisco.” Sam gulped in a breath after all the explaining.

‘I had no idea about LA, we haven’t gotten much word from down south in a while, figured it was all pretty much gone.”

"It took me this long just to get to you. I’m so sorry, I tried to get here sooner, I really did. I knew you’d be worried. I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam said, pushing his long hair out of his eyes.

“Sorry…worried? Fuck, I wasn’t worried, I thought you were dead, dude. I mean—I knew you were,” Dean said. “No one survived as far as I heard. No one, even as far down as Palo Alto. I mean—I didn’t even bother to go down there and search for you, because I just thought…”

“I know, and I’m glad you didn’t because I wasn’t even there when the bombs fell. But I knew you would probably think I was dead, that’s why I had to do everything possible to get here, because I didn’t want you to think that for one second more than you had to. I’m so sorry, Dean. You have no idea how bad it is out there.”

“I can imagine. I’ve only gone as far as Arcata, and there were a bunch of checkpoints, with National Guard and rationing and the whole bit. And that was a month ago.”

“Yeah, it’s gotten worse. Last I heard, the electric grid isn’t back up yet. And the gas supplies were almost gone because they can’t refine it, much less transport it.”

“How’d you get all the way here from LA?” Dean asked, finally realizing that he was still straddling his brother on the floor. His hands were on Sam’s chest and they shouldn’t be, not like that, not anymore. No matter how much of a miracle his brother’s survival was, he couldn’t go there and do that again. Dean knew he’d be the one to not survive what Sam would do to him again. He’d barely made it through the last time. He kneed his way off of Sam and helped him up to a sitting position. The light from the moonlight outside was still highlighting him, as overgrown and hairy as he was, he was still the most beautiful sight Dean thought he’d ever seen.

Sam seemed to know there was a lot going on in Dean’s mind and didn’t answer for a moment until they both got used to not being slammed together on the floor.

“A combination, a private plane got me as far as Vegas before they shut down the air travel coming out of California. Then I had to wait until they started running the buses again, I found some work to make some cash. I took one of the last buses up Highway 395 to Reno before all the diesel supplies had run out. Then it was a lot of hitchhiking and actual hiking to get to Red Bluff. I’m just glad it was summer, I wouldn’t have wanted to get over the pass in the winter. I did the last bit here to Rhoda on a horse that I traded the last of my money for.”

Dean noticed that Sam didn’t elaborate on many of the details, so who knows what he really did. At some point he knew he’d have to try to get the full story out of Sam. “Hold on, you…you rode a horse all the way up here from Red Bluff?”

“Yeah, it took three days of hard riding but I got here. I’ve got her tied up to your front porch, wasn’t sure exactly where to put her.”

“She can bunk in with Baby if she won’t kick or anything,” Dean said.

“Nah, Poppy’s a good girl, and she’s pretty pooped after all those miles, not up to much kicking I’d imagine. I just need some water for her. You got anything outside I could use to fill up for her?”

“Yeah, let’s go get her settled,” Dean said, standing up all the way. “Let me grab us a couple flashlights.” He got the one he always kept by his bed, and shone his way to the kitchen where there were several on a shelf by the door. He picked a pink one for Sam and handed it to him with a grin. “Let’s go see this girl that got you here.”

Sam preceded him out the door and Dean was amazed to see how wide his brother’s shoulders had gotten since he’d last seen him. Since the last time—back when he’d thought they might have a chance at putting themselves all the way back together. But that was a while ago and it hadn’t been what Sam wanted, that’s what he said the last time Dean had tried to ask. Dean internally slapped himself, At least Sam’s alive ya idjit!

Poppy stood at the porch railing, shifting from side to side in the moonlight, she huffed when Sam approached. He rubbed his face against hers and spoke to her softly. Dean thought he heard Sam saying thank you. Leave it to his brother to be talking to his horse.

“You gonna introduce us or what?” Dean asked, still standing on the porch.

“Sorry, I was just thanking her for getting me here…to you. Dean this is Poppy, she’s a Bashkir Curly and is pretty much my new best friend.”

“Poppy, it’s nice to meet you, even though apparently I’ve been replaced in the best friend department,” Dean said, running a hand through her mane. “You’re beautiful, and you really are curly. I’ve never seen a curly horse like you. I wish I had an apple or something handy for you.”

“She’ll just be happy with a big bucket of water, I’ve still got some of the feed she came with when I bought her.”

“I have a big pasture she’s welcome to browse if she wants, the chickens are in for the night.”

“You have chickens? Since when?” Sam asked, sarcasm coming through loud and clear.

Dean considered how to answer as he walked towards the hose bib at the corner of the house and found the wide metal bucket he kept for washing his garden vegetables. He started filling it up, the sound of the water pouring into the metal bucket suddenly very loud in the quiet night. This wasn’t only about chickens of course, but even a sarcastic question like that deserved a real answer. “Since I wanted some freaking scrambled eggs for breakfast, and there weren’t any in the one store we have in town and I didn’t feel like getting out all the way to Arcata for them. A friend got me some chicks this spring. They’re pretty funny really, real characters, and man—fresh eggs are the best. Just wish that bacon was still a regular thing I could get my hands on. There’s a guy down the valley that does some hog raising and bacon production, but it’s a precious commodity these days.”

“Mmmm, bacon, I vaguely remember that,” Sam said.

“Oh, so now you’re a bacon aficionado, about time,” Dean said with his own answering sarcasm. “Here, this is full now, should I bring it to her, or do you want to walk her over?” Dean asked, moving the full and very heavy bucket away from the hose which had a tendency to drip. He didn’t think Poppy would like getting her ears dripped on while she drank.

Sam stepped back to Poppy and untied her from the porch rail. He led her over toward Dean’s waving flashlight and showed her the bucket with his own. She immediately dove in and started drinking it up. Once she finished she looked up at Dean like she was saying thanks and then leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder.

“Aww, she’s so cuddly,” Dean said, charmed by the sight of his giant brother cuddling with his big curly horse. He scratched at her ears to get in on the action.

“She’s a real sweetheart, she put up with my learning how to ride her well on the way here. A lot of horses would have thrown me and gone on their own way,” Sam said.

“She doesn’t have shoes?” Dean asked, refiling the bucket.

“Yeah, this breed doesn’t need them apparently. Seemed good since I don’t know if there’s a lot of blacksmiths left around.”

“I know there’s some people who do metalworking in the area, but not sure about blacksmiths specifically. C’mon, let’s get her settled down in the garage barn.” Dean led the way across the gravel driveway, Sam followed with Poppy on her lead in one hand and the refilled bucket in the other hand.

“What’s she need for the night?” Dean asked.

“Pretty much just a place to lay down, and a little of her food. Is it okay if I leave the bucket in here too, in case she’s still thirsty?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I have more buckets around. I think this area here by the workbench is the biggest clear spot. She won’t get hurt by any of the sharp stuff, right?” Dean shone the flashlight over all the tools and buckets of nails spread out on the workbench.

“Nah, she’ll be sleeping, won’t you girl?” Sam asked as Poppy made herself comfortable eating out of the feedbag.

“I wish I had a light I could leave on for her out here,” Dean said.

“She’s used to traveling in the dark, it’s no big deal,” Sam said.

“You rode in the dark too?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I knew you needed to know I was still…you know, alive. Like I said, I had to get here as fast as I could,” Sam said.

“I’m…damn, I’m so glad you’re here, Sammy,” Dean said, grabbing Sam in for a hug. He tried and failed not to notice the new muscles that Sam was now packing. Sam tucked his head into Dean’s neck somehow making himself small enough to hug. Dean never figured out how he did that, but he was glad for the moment of closeness. The relief was just hitting him, the sudden joy too. “Dude! You’re really here, you’re alive!” Dean whooped.

Sam laughed and Poppy made a horse noise that sounded like a slightly sarcastic snort.

Sam hugged him back so hard and strong that it took Dean’s breath away. In that moment Dean didn’t ever want to let him go. Like ever ever ever. “Never do that to me again, dude.”

“Promise,” Sam said, speaking the word into the skin of Dean’s neck where it sank in and began to rearrange things inside him. The scratch of Sam’s wild beard as he spoke adding to Dean’s sensation of being marked and changed.

Dean shivered with all the feelings and reluctantly pushed them apart. He couldn’t go there or do that again, not to his heart, no matter how much he wanted to, and Sam obviously wanted to, oh boy yippee, yet another one-eighty. There was someone else he was involved with now, and he didn’t want to have to explain about Blair being in his life to Sam right now, at least not yet.

“Good night, Poppy, I’ll see you in the morning,” Sam said.

It sounded like every other time Sam had had a pet when he was a kid, it threw Dean back into the past, into his memories of raising the boy into this giant man. All those times Sam had cried because they’d had to leave behind whatever stray dog or cat he’d managed to sneak into their motel of the week. And all that time in the bunker where Sam had wished they’d had the time to get a dog or something, but they never managed to find the time. He’d been surprised Sam hadn’t gotten a dog when he lived in San Francisco, and he’d asked him at one point on one of their many long phone calls. Sam had said he worked too much so he felt that it wouldn’t have been fair to the dog. Dean knew he meant that about more than just the dog so he’d dropped the conversation there.

“Night, Poppy,” Dean said.

~**~*~*~*~

To Part 2