SpN: Non Timebo Mala 10/?

[roxy]

Title: Non Timebo Mala
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OMCs, Sam/OMCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3343

Spoilers: might be considered spoilery for All Hell Breaks Loose
Summary: Sam Winchester is looking for the ultimate weapon, one that will destroy the demon who destroyed his family. Dean Kane was raised to be a maker of weapons. He was just the man Sam needed.

Notes/Warnings: This is my AU version of the Colt's making. Increeeedibly AU. It's completely a child of my wild imaginings. Warnings for sex ( brief het and M/M, incest, rape.) Sections will have individual warnings.

AAAAH! Huge boo-boo! Thanks for the head's up, toldthestars!

As much as Sam didn't like the silence between them, he hated even more those moments when the man looked at him like…like his favorite gun jammed, or his horse died. Like he might want to talk about it. Or like he was afraid Sam might want to talk.

Took everything in Sam then, not to stand up and shout at him, run at him like a rabid dog.

Some days, Sam got restless. Maybe a little angry. Some days. Most days, Sam was fine. He took that lesson and made it part of him. That--that was never going to happen to him again.




Dean
The Eriksen's wagon was waiting for new wheels…it was the first time Dean would be assisting Tobe with wheels without someone else helping out, and Tobe assured him that he had no doubt Dean was more than ready doing the job. It felt good to know that he had the man's trust, but it didn't really do much to make him sweat less…and speaking of sweat…he untucked the handkerchief and wiped his forehead, retied it while casting a more critical eye than Tobe ever would over the wall sconce he was making, one of what was to be a matched pair.

He hefted the hammer and let it drop and for the next hour or so, the only sound in the forge was the crackle of fire and the crash of the hammer on the anvil, hitting the piece one, two, three times, and then a beat on the anvil. One, two, three times, and a beat on the anvil…habit. Tradition…and a wee bit of magic. One beat between to keep the devil away, that's what Tobe had always told him.

Muscles jumped and bunched in his arms as he struck, he tsk'd when fragments of hot metal hit him, but ignored the small sparks of pain otherwise—he was dotted with old scars. It meant nothing; he barely felt the burn anymore. The leather apron that hung to his knees protected everything of importance to him. He grinned and struck again, laid the white-hot metal against the horn of the anvil and turned it, and struck the piece and turned, until it was almost the shape he needed it to be. He whispered to it as he worked, telling it what it was going to be, smiled as the shape of what he had in his mind became born in the metal.

He plunged the piece into the water barrel, and leaned back, both hands jammed against the dripping small of his back. He grimaced, turned--and jumped. "Oh—I'm sorry, how long have you been there?"

Eriksen's daughter took a tentative step into the doorway. The shy smile she directed at him made his face go warm. "My brother and I got bored and came to see what happens in the shop. It's very…warm. And…"

Dean tried to smile back, and hoped he didn't look as addle-headed as he felt. "It's…smelly? Dirty? I apologize. It's not exactly a place for a young lady. And her brother," he said, though since he couldn't convince his eyes there was anything to look at but her, he had no idea if she really had a brother with her or not. What he could plainly see was that she was pretty: long red hair, dimples, soft green eyes and a pink bow of a mouth. She wore a bonnet, with a few limp asters tucked into the crown. No doubt the bonnet was a vain attempt to keep the freckles dusting her nose from turning a deeper copper. He melted a little at the sight....

Dean's attention seemed to make her nervous, her hands fluttered upwards to the waist of her gown, her fingers danced over the tiny flowers dotting the fabric. She blushed furiously when Dean grew bold enough to flash her a full-fledged smile…all together, nervous and blushing and pretty as a sunrise, she snuck right under Dean's skin. He wiped his hand as clean as he could and held it out to her. "My name's Dean, I'm Tobe's so—assistant."

"Really?" she said, her head tilting slightly to look up at his eyes. "You don’t mean to say you work for a nigger?"

Dean felt a chill roll down his back and lodge in his gut. He lowered his hand and took a step back, away from the doorway. "No," he said carefully. "I mean to say I'm the *apprentice* to the town's *blacksmith*, Mr. Kane. A position I'm damn proud of. I also mean to say, he's my only family, and I'm proud of that, too. You have yourself a nice day."

He turned back to the forge and nearly missed the little distressed sound she made. He turned back and glared at her.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me—" she looked genuinely upset, her hand held out to him, and Dean was lonely, and few people sought him out….

Dean took a deep breath. "I'm…Tobe is like my pa. I know most people…" He stopped and inhaled again. "I can walk you back to your place. If you'd like."

"I would like that. My name is Anne," she said, "it's nice of you to offer. I thank you." They walked out of the shop and sitting on the log bench outside the shop doors, long legs stretched out in front of him, and long arms folded over his belly, was a carbon copy of Anne…a *masculine* copy of Anne.

"Finally," the lanky boy growled. He had the same red hair and freckles, but on him the pink bow of a mouth was elongated and had a definite downward turn at the ends. He glowered at Dean. "I'm her brother Jan. I go *everywhere* with her." His narrowed eyes looked full of purpose and Dean took a subtle step away from her. This must be something brothers did, swell up like snakes if their siblings were in danger, he thought, and smothered a laugh. Jan may have been nearly as tall as Dean but he was about as thick around as his sister. Dean was pretty sure he was in no danger from the tall, gangly boy—he was thistledown thin and would probably blow over in a high wind.

His sister, on the other hand…now she was something to fear, all right.

It didn't take long and he almost didn't notice it was so natural, so gradual, that any free time Dean had, he chose to spend with Anne. She'd become a pleasant fixture in his life, spoiled only by the knowledge that at the end of spring, the Eriksens planned to move on, further west. Knowing that made every second they spent together that more precious.

It was on a sunny day, while they picnicked by the river—miraculously alone—that Dean decided he wanted to tell Anne about his life. About how he came to be there, raised by Tobe, learning to be a blacksmith...he wanted to make her understand just how important Tobe was to him, if it was possible.

She sat quietly on the blanket and listened, not once making him stop, or fluttering, or even crying. She listened to him seriously, completely, and when he was done she said, "You really pulled fortune from disaster, Dean. You were blessed."

He tilted slowly towards her, and she to him. His heart was beating so fast and so hard, it almost hurt…her eyes fluttered closed, the pink tip of her tongue inched out, wet her lip and Dean's breath caught, he felt blood fill his cheeks, felt her warm breath skate across his parting lips and then, they folded into each other, mouth against mouth. His hands flew up and cupped her face…it was dream-like, it was melting into honey, it was floating away on a bed of clouds….

The first kiss, his first kiss, the first time he touched someone with purpose and the desire to affect them, and it was sweet, soft, and….nice. So very nice. He pulled back just as slowly as they'd come together, and took his time to look at her. Her eyes were still closed, ginger lashes sweeping the swell of her pink cheek, the fine hairs framing her forehead were damp and twisted in thin, bright curls, there were tiny beads of sweat on her upper lip. Her breath slowed, evened out and her eyes opened carefully.

When she saw he was watching her, she gave him a timid little upturn of the mouth, the mouth he'd touched, felt give under his own like magic. Her hand rose from her lap, and slowly extended towards him. A little line rose between her brows. She touched his mouth with a delicate finger and lightly traced the curve of his lips. "Your lips are soft," she said shyly. "I've never kissed anyone with such soft lips before."

Den felt a quick stab of disappointment, his fingers danced over his lips when her finger withdrew. "Oh—you've been kissed before?"

She didn't answer right away. Just brushed damp curls off her forehead and took a little time to resettle her bonnet. Smoothed the material wrinkled over her lap and then, she fixed him with a speculative look. "You haven't?" she asked.

"Oh—oh, hell, sure I have. Lots of girls…well not lots. I mean a few, some…two or three…maybe."

The look in her eyes was pure laughter. "Dean," she said, and he knew it meant, I know about you, I hear things. People in town think he's slow—well-meaning but missing a card or two from his deck. Him and Tobe have been content to let folks think so—it'd made life a little easier in some ways. But maybe she thinks it too…or maybe she sees what's true about him. Maybe….

"Anne! I've looked for you all over—"

"Jan! Why must you follow me everywhere?" She leaped to her feet, and stamped one foot against the ground hard enough to raise a little puff of dust. "Go away!"

A storm of emotion flowed over Jan's face, anger, and hurt, jealousy…Dean skooted back to the far edge of the blanket. He'd seen the two fight often enough that he no longer winced or felt the need to leap between them but it still made him uncomfortable. Tobe had cautioned him that it was no odd thing for siblings to fight, and the best thing to do if they weren't armed was to keep out of the way until the storm blew over.

Tobe always had darn good advice. Dean sighed and leaned back on his elbows and watched, ready if Anne needed him. Anne was a sight, with her bonnet flying back, dangling from it's ribbons and spraying aster petals all over. There was something about the way she looked with high color in her cheeks—so pretty, so alive. Her curls bounced with the vehemence of her words, they both gave it their all. Words flew back and forth like poison darts…they were fuming, furious and totally involved in their fight. Dean was sure that both of them had forgotten he was even there, even though the fight was more or less about Dean.

With nothing else to do besides wait for the storm to settle, Dean found himself looking back and forth between Anne and her brother, who he noticed mirrored his sister, red flush tinting his face, staining his collar bone and all the skin Dean could see in the vee of his open shirt collar, almost obscuring the freckles speckling his skin there….

Dean flinched his eyes away when he realized that he'd been staring at Jan's neck the last few minutes. He distracted himself by wondering what made a brother and sister hate each other so much—was startled again when he caught Jan's eyes on him. They were green as sapling leaves, and the pupils were black as coal, they looked like his sister's, and they didn't. Something was in the depths of those eyes, and Dean shivered. Nothing good—of that he was sure.

Later that afternoon, he asked Anne why they hated each other so, and she laughed. "I don't hate Jan, I *love* him—he's my brother. It's just…he's so bossy. Just because he was born a few minutes before me, he acts like I'm a baby." She tossed her hair. "Oh, for heaven's--here he comes again—"

Jan slunk up on them like he was Anne's belligerent shadow. Without a word, he fell in behind them walking, and Dean swore he could feel Jan's eyes on his back, like bits of burning iron.

That one kiss turned out to be all they ever had—after that day they never had a real moment alone. What they had was longing, and looks and the touch of each others hands, but Dean felt he could live off that just as well.
****
Tobe watched Dean from the corner of his eye, a kind of speculative look that Dean couldn't recall Tobe fixing him with before. He watched Dean follow Anne about, never saying a word, but Dean could see the man was worried. He kept silent, until one night, he walked right up to Dean, grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him along like a reluctant horse headed to get himself shoed.

They ended up at the table. There was the oil lamp, set up in the middle of the table, along with the half-full bottle of whiskey, and the two small glasses sitting on the table again and Dean's eyebrows raised. He wondered what Tobe wanted to tell him. He was a little nervous, considering the last time there was whiskey involved….

"Sit," he said, and poured Dean and himself a bit of whiskey. "So. She's a nice enough little girl. But she's leaving real soon. Dean--" he held his hand up, warding off whatever Dean had wanted to say. "You're going to feel like hell, I'm not gonna lie to you. But you'll survive, and one day, you'll look back on this and feel…like this was the time you grew up in."

"I'm grown now," Dean protested. "I'm not a chap anymore, Pa. I'm almost nineteen—I could marry if I set my cap for it."

Tobe slammed the glass down hard enough to rock the table and Dean jumped. Tobe looked like thunder, and his voice *was* thunder. "Lord all mighty Jesus, boy—tell me you're not—"

Dean embarrassed himself by almost shouting, "no"—and was hit with a hot wash of guilt. Shouldn’t he want to—shouldn't he have thought of that as a way to keep Anne near him? He could, he was sure, marry her and be happy, have babies with her and every day, wake up to her beautiful green eyes…and Jan, hair flopping like a pup's ears and following them everywhere, gnashing his teeth and growling under his breath….

Dean snorted and slapped his hand over his mouth to trap giggles that wanted to come out--he was nineteen and grown and giggling was not done. "Pa, you need me more than anyone else does. I'm…not in that much of a hurry to head out on my own. I'm pretty content right here." Hell yeah, he thought and emptied the glass. Still tasted like wash water and kerosene.

"I know you are content here boy, at least until you find the right girl," Tobe said, and took a quick sip of whiskey. "Dean…I got a question. Jan, you know he kind of…" Tobe licked his lips and put the glass down. "Never mind, son, never mind."

"If we're talking like men here, Pa, I gotta tell you, that fella's a burr right up my ass. Everywhere I go, he's there, staring at me. I swan, it's like he's got some kinda hate for me and *no* reason for it! I've been nothing but a gentleman with his sister. Heck, we just had one tiny little kiss…" He shrugged. "Moonstruck." His head felt like fish were swimming slowly through the fibers of his mind…he licked his lips and smiled, a little cock-eyed and woozy.

Tobe watched him, his whiskey colored eyes growing a little darker as he stared at Dean. His lips twitched once or twice like he was about to speak, but finally settled for shrugging. He tossed down the bit of liquor sitting in the bottom of his glass and laughed. "Dean, Dean…you got a lot more life coming your way, boy. Take your time—once you move forward, it's hard to move back."

Dean peered at Tobe. Sometimes the man was like a wrote over book. There was one meaning on the page and another right on top of it….



When the time came for the Eriksens to leave, Dean expected the pain to be towering and terrible, but there was just a feeling of melancholy. He felt wistful, and truthfully, dreaded being lonely again, but the gaping hole in his chest never appeared. Anne wept on his shoulder, her tears hot and damp on his thick shirt but…he kind of got the feeling she was enjoying the drama of it all, instead of really mourning their separation. He kissed her again, his second and final kiss with her and again, it was sweet as honey, soft—his breath left him in a sigh when she parted her lips, and they breathed together for a tender moment…she pressed her hands to his cheeks and whispered, "Dean."

She turned and ran out of the yard towards home…he watched her, a gentle sadness filling his chest.
***
He was coming around the corner form the hen house, a bucket of feed in his hand and thinking of nothing in particular when a shadow fell over the ground in from of him. "Oh—it's you—what did you want? Anne's not here."

"I know," the boy said, face wreathed in an angry scowl, as usual.

"Look, if you saw us kissing, rest assured I respect your sis—"

"God—maybe you *are* touched--" Jan grabbed Dean by the shoulders and the feed bucket was knocked out of his hand, rolled across the dirt and his head rocked back when Jan slammed their mouths together. Pain burst through his lip, and was instantly soothed when Jan swept it with his tongue. Heat, and wet against his lip made him gasp and then Jan's tongue was inside, sweeping over his own tongue, licking across the roof of his mouth and then slower, inside his lip, like he was searching out something special and something about that made Dean moan. The press of heat where only he'd touched before, the press and roll of his lip under Jan's made his breath hitch, and warmth flood him, and then to his horror he realized he was hard, and rocking his hardness against Jan's thigh. Jan groaned approvingly, and grabbed Dean by the waist—it shocked him how much harder that made him, the explosion of heat in his belly made him gasp…

"God, oh wait…" Dean was gasping. He felt like he did when he was about to come. His mouth tingled and throbbed, his heart raced painfully and when Jan pressed up between his legs, just as hot and stiff and throbbing as he was, for a moment Dean thought he'd come. Jan bit his lip and brought him back to himself.

"I have to leave. I kept waiting for you to catch up but you're prettier than smart, Dean Kane." Jan cupped Dean's cheeks, kissed him, on the cheek…brought their foreheads together and for a moment they breathed together, like Dean had with his sister earlier that morning. She had been…her kisses had been nice, and Jan's kiss had been everything but nice—nice was the furthest thing from what it had been. It was wrong, frighteningly wrong, and resting there, panting for breath and willing his prick to go down, Dean would've given almost anything to have had the time to do it again, and again…Jan slapped him lightly on the cheek he'd kissed.

"I should have taken my chance earlier. God, I'll be thinking about you forever," Jan sighed. "You take care of yourself. Dean," he said and his lips traced Dean's cheek, his neck—a moment later, he ran out of the yard.

Dean felt sick with excitement, with dread. What happened? How was it that Jan had made him feel so much more than Anne had? What did it mean…why him? What he was feeling was wrong, and bad, and…he wanted more awfully bad.


part 11

Comments

[locknkey.livejournal.com]

Poor confused Dean - all sexually mixed up.

His time with the two of them was very sweet and Tobe's obvious amusement and knowing and heartache watching Dean grow up.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

oy! Sorry for not answering this--I'm not sure if it was the LJ notification fiasco or me!

I'm glad that his crush came across as sweet! Dean's life up to this point counterpoints Sam's.