Creative Imperative

TITLE: Cry Wolf (Part Three)
SERIES: Cry Wolf can be considered a sequel to my SPN fic Family Values but it's not necessary to read that first.
RATING: Adults Only
FANDOM: The Sentinel/Supernatural Crossover
CATEGORY: Crossover, Horror...see story notes.
PAIRINGS: Jim/Blair, Dean/Sam, Dean/OFC

Previous Chapters: Part One | Part Two

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Cry Wolf

Part Three

It was when Dean saw what Blair considered "a light supper" that he decided they'd definitely found the right place to stay. Fried steak and onions, pan-roasted vegetables and the best home-baked bread Dean ever tasted. All this with a pitcher of cold beer and the promise of a second helping if they wanted it.

"Your partner must be fat," Dean joked. "This is fantastic, dude."

"No, we just like to eat well."

"Can we meet your partner?" Sam asked. He was tucking in with as much enthusiasm as Dean.

"Jim's away, working. He'll be home soon, I hope. He was due back yesterday, but I guess the case is keeping him tied up." Blair cut into his steak; he'd made it rare, so blood ran out as he cut. He went on, "Jim used to be a cop, a detective, in Cascade. Now he's a specialist consultant so he works all over the country. Canada, sometimes. Right now he's in Ohio." Blair sighed.

"You miss him," Sam said quietly.

Blair's smile was sad. "Always. On some cases I go with him, but..." He took a bite of his steak. "What about you two? Why are you here this time of year? It can't be for the fishing."

Dean kept his mouth shut, letting Sam take that one.

Sam said, "I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it to you, but...well, I want to write a book."

Blair nodded. "Really? What about?"

"I'm not exactly sure yet. I've read about a series of wolf attacks on people around here, and..."

Dean, watching Blair, saw his reaction before he covered it. Something almost like fear, just for a second, before he schooled his face to a more neutral expression.

"Shit, you're not a journalist are you?" Blair demanded. "Or another nutcase with a crackpot theory about all this?"

That made Sam turn to Dean. Yeah, they'd both heard it. Another nutcase. Who had been here ahead of them? Could their dad be here, too?

Sam said carefully, "I'm not a reporter. I graduated from Stanford last year and I'm hoping to write non-fiction. But you said 'another'. Has someone else been around? A stranger?"

Blair set down his knife and fork. His expression was distinctly less friendly. "This is not a new thing, Sam. We're a stone's throw from the national park, and the land all around us is a wilderness. There are wolves, bears, cats - all kinds of predators - in these mountains. There have been attacks on humans for as long as humans have lived here."

"But," Sam pressed, "the pattern in the last few years is different, isn't it?"

"That's a matter of perspective," Blair answered. "Look, man, there have been more attacks because the human population is increasing, spreading out. There's been some environmental damage, deforestation. The prey animals in the mountains are more scarce, so it makes sense that the predators will move into human territory. That's all it is."

"Not everyone thinks so," Sam prompted.

"Since Jim and I moved here, there have been people every year who've tried to blame the attacks on something...unnatural. We've had Mulder-wannabes asking about cattle mutilations. We've had ghost hunters. Last summer it was a nutcase convinced we've got a werewolf in the hills."

"Last summer?" Dean repeated. Then whoever it was, it wasn't their dad. He met Sam's disappointed eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing. We'll find him, Sam. We will.

"What?" Blair asked, watching them.

"Nothing," Sam answered hastily.

"When you asked for directions at the gas station, did you know the Marsden's daughter was the latest victim?"

"No," Dean answered before Sam could say something unfortunate. There were limits to honesty. "We just picked the place out of the tourist guide."

Blair met Dean's eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment. Dean looked right back, hoping Blair would decide he had an honest face.

Finally Blair nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you what I know about these attacks, Sam, but don't stir things up around town. This is a small town, man. Someone'll rip your head off."

"We're not here to make trouble, Mr Sandburg," Dean answered in his best obedient voice.

"I didn't say you were, but - " Blair broke off as the telephone rang.

*****

Blair caught the phone on the third ring. The caller display told him who it was so he answered with a smile, "Hi, Jim!" He could hear traffic in the background and guessed Jim was driving.

"Hi, Chief. Good news. The case is over. I'm on my way to the airport. How's the snow?"

"The highway's open but it's still icy. I'll pick you up from the airport. What time does your flight get in?"

"I'll be on the red-eye, Chief. Just before five in the morning. Still want to pick me up?"

"No. But I will."

Blair knew Jim was smiling. "Must be love. Who's with you?"

Blair turned to glance at the brothers who were talking quietly. "We've got a couple of guests. I know it's early, but the Marsden's place is still closed so I took pity on them."

"Damn," Jim said, his voice low. "I was hoping for some phone sex."

Blair made his voice low and sexy. "You want phone sex, baby, call me when you're not driving."

Jim's laughter was good to hear.

Blair waited for him to stop laughing, then said, "I'll see you at five, Jim. Love you."

*****

By the time supper was finished, it was full dark outside. Sam suggested they should walk into town and check out the bar Erin told them about, but Dean surprisingly vetoed the idea. They might get lost in the dark, it was late...his excuses were lame enough for Sam to guess they weren't the real reason. It made Sam take a closer look at his brother and he realised that Dean hadn't been kidding about sleeping until noon. Dean needed a vacation from all this as badly as Sam did. They were in Panther Creek to do a job, but Stonehaven Lodge was much better than most of the motels they stayed at and they would be alone tonight. Sam thought it was worth taking advantage.

The guest wing had five bedrooms, two bathrooms and a large living room. The living room boasted a French window with a spectacular view of the mountains. There was also a TV with a surround-sound system and a good stereo, with a bookcase displaying a choice of DVDs and music.

Dean settled himself into a leather easy-chair and stretched. Sam watched, and Dean's effortless sensuality caught him in his gut, just as it always did. The way Dean's muscles rippled beneath his t-shirt as he stretched his arms above his head; the way the cords in his neck stood out. And he was going to waste all that on a local girl.

Sam shook his head. He had to stop thinking this way about Dean. They weren't kids any longer. Some childhood games you just can't take into adulthood.

Dean relaxed, turned his head and looked at Sam. "You picked a room yet, dude?"

"No." Sam left Dean to watch TV. He picked up their bags and chose a room at random. He unpacked the laptop. Blair told him that his home network was set up with a wireless router and sure enough the laptop picked up the connection easily. Sam opened the browser and started looking for local news websites.

He heard the television in the other room. Dean was in an odd mood. It was best to give him some space. There were some things they just couldn't talk about. Dean's habit of deflecting any serious conversation had become much worse since their reunion. He was impossible to talk to!

Sam found the local newspaper's website and started by searching through the obituaries. Some of this information he already knew, but the site had details the national newspapers had left out. Before long Sam was absorbed in the task of collating all the new information.

Two hours later, Sam had a good picture of what was happening around Panther Creek. He was convinced it was something supernatural. He thought their initial suspicions of a werewolf were looking more likely, too. Sam didn't like hunting werewolves. Not only was there a serious risk of infection, but a werewolf was a person much of the time. It made killing them...harder.

Sam took his research to Dean, who made him wait until his movie was over. When Dean finally turned the television off, Sam spread the map out on the floor. Dean knelt beside him.

"Blair was right, dude. There's a history of disappearances and animal attacks around here that goes back decades. But in the past six or seven years, it's been different. If we factor in the disappearances, there have been between four and ten victims every year since 1999."

Sam drew a rough circle on the map, a circle which included Panther Creek near its centre. "Jean Marsden's body was found here." He marked a cross on the map. "It's not far from where we are now. The others last year were here, here, here and here." Sam's X's made a clear pattern.

Dean grinned. "Nice work, Sammy." He traced the blue line of the river with his finger. "It's staying within reach of the water."

"Yeah. Now, the deaths you and Dad discovered all took place within a day of the full moon. There's also one you missed: a woman drowned in the creek, just here." He marked the map.

"Full moon again?"

"The night before. It's reported as a drowning, no suggestion of an animal attack, but - "

"So why include it?"

"Because I think she was running from something when she fell into the creek." Sam glanced at Dean, who was sprawled on the floor studying the map. "The creek is the centre of it, dude, I'm sure."

Dean was chewing his lip. "Yeah, we should definitely check out the creek. But look at this, Sammy." Dean's finger traced a line from the site of Jean Marsden's murder to the previous site, and then to the one before that. His invisible line encircled Stonehaven Lodge. He looked up at Sam. "Coincidence?"

Sam frowned. "It could be. The farm is within this thing's hunting ground. You could probably link any of these isolated houses like that."

"Yeah, you could be right." Dean rolled onto his back lazily. "We'll check out the creek in the morning. Then you can talk to Blair and his partner. I'll see if there's anyone else around worth talking to..."

While Dean talked, Sam began folding up the map. He didn't ask again why Dean didn't want to start tonight. They were both in need of a rest. Dean was lying on top of the map so Sam reached out to push him off it. Dean caught Sam's wrist as if he'd anticipated a very different touch. Their eyes met.

Nothing was said. Sam saw the raw lust in his brother's look and that wasn't entirely a surprise. But the fear in Dean's eyes was a shock. Desire between them was nothing new. Brothers were not supposed to feel this way about each other but they always had. They fucked each other as teenagers, but that was before Sam left. Before Sam spent four years trying to forge a normal life for himself.

It was different, to feel this desire as an adult. There could be no excuses; no pretending it was a game or a phase.

The fear Dean showed him was something Sam thought he understood. Sam left once. He could not promise Dean he would never leave again. He fully intended to quit hunting as soon as the thing that killed Jess and their mother was dead. He could not live like this for the rest of his life. But next time Sam left, he was damned well taking Dean with him. Sam tried to explain that to Dean, not in words, but with his eyes, his expression, because he knew Dean wouldn't stand for the conversation. It wasn't really a "normal" life Sam needed. It was just safety. To be free of all this weirdness.

He wanted to live in a world where salt was something you sprinkled on food instead of across window sills and silver was something you wore in rings, not bullets. A world where nightmares went away when he woke up.

Then he remembered Max, whose psychic power destroyed his fragile mind, and he shuddered. Normal? Sam could never be normal. He saw visions and dreamed things that came true. He felt the energies of places and saw spirits. Sam might never learn his way out of that world and damn, but he needed Dean to keep him sane. Dean would never let Sam get out of control the way Max...

"You're not him, Sam. You're nothing like him." Dean's voice was quiet but determined, cutting into Sam's thoughts.

Dean's hand still covered Sam's wrist. Sam moved closer, feeling the map crackle beneath him. He leaned down, slowly, and kissed Dean.

Dean did not push Sam away.

Dean made a small sound and his mouth opened to accept Sam's kiss. For a moment, it was only a kiss. Then Dean grabbed for Sam in a movement owing more to wrestling than to passion. He rolled Sam onto his back, pinning him down, and kissed him hard. Sam barely had time to catch his breath before Dean's hands were on his belt and the zipper of his pants. It was like a dam breaking, this long-denied need pouring out, carrying them within its torrent, helplessly. Dean's urgency was almost frightening. In seconds Sam's pants were down around his knees and for a moment he thought Dean was going to roll him over and just fuck him and he would have welcomed that. But Dean's fist closed around Sam's dick.

Sam cried out. No one else ever touched him the way Dean could. Dean taught him, learned Sam's body with him. Dean, even when rushed like this, knew exactly how to give Sam the most pleasure. Sam was coming before he knew it, the need building inside, more and more and he wanted to hold back but couldn't, just couldn't.

Dean hissed, "Sam, look at me!" Sam opened his eyes to find Dean's face above his, flushed and eager. He expected a kiss, but Dean only held his gaze, pumping Sam's cock faster, harder. Sam surrendered, allowing Dean to take what he needed. He knew Dean wouldn't let go this completely for anyone but him. This intensity was for Sam, and Sam alone. He came looking into his brother's eyes and saw Dean shudder in silent orgasm as his own faded away.

It had been too fast, and Sam felt almost embarrassed to have come so quickly. The dark stain evident on Dean's pants when they both began to sit up allayed that feeling a little. They looked at each other, both silent.

Sam opened his mouth to speak.

Dean said, "Dude, don't make a big deal of it."

Sam frowned. Why did Dean do that, every fucking time? "Fuck you," he returned, irritated.

"What's the matter, Sammy? You want to cuddle?"

"It's Sam. Go and change your pants."

*****

No woman Dean had ever been with was as sexy as Sam when he came. The way Sam struggled to keep his eyes open, because Dean wanted him to. The way his body bucked beneath Dean's weight. The strength of his hand gripping Dean's shoulder. The silken hardness of Sam's dick sliding across Dean's palm. Four years apart had turned Dean's little brother into a man, and he was still the best sex Dean could imagine. Sam's surrender brought Dean to orgasm. He'd barely even touched himself; he came in his pants like a kid. Only Sam could do that to him.

Dean found the room Sam had chosen for them and couldn't help smiling. It was a king-sized bed, not two singles. Sam was determined, wasn't he? But they'd introduced themselves to Blair as brothers; sharing a bed could get them into serious trouble. They'd got a lot of practice dodging their father but even so...

Dean stripped off his pants and underwear and rummaged in his bag for a change of clothing. God, Sam...

He knew that wanting his brother was fucked up. He'd stopped caring somewhere around the time he turned eighteen. He remembered his teenage brother crawling into his bed at night. He remembered covering Sammy's mouth as he came, terrified their dad could hear them. So it was fucked up. He'd missed it. He missed having this with Sam.

Dean could sleep with others to satisfy the physical need. Sex was freely available anywhere. But most of the time it was just physical. Only with Sam could Dean relax completely, be himself. Be safe. Only with Sam.

And Sam was there, behind him, sliding his hands around Dean's body. "What's taking you so long?"

Dean turned around and without really thinking about it he reached up to kiss Sam. He hadn't really noticed on the floor just how tall Sam was. This wasn't "little Sammy" any longer. He'd always been assertive in bed; now he was positively aggressive.

Dean liked it.

He let Sam pull him down onto the bed.

*****

Jim woke with a start and found Blair's gentle hand on his shoulder. They were still in the truck, and he saw the snow-capped mountains glow with the first light of dawn.

"Jim, we're almost there, man," Blair said.

Jim rubbed sleep out of his eyes and yawned. It felt like days since he'd slept properly. He rolled down the truck's window. Cold air flowed in: it would help keep him awake. "Chief, I think I'm getting too old for this," he sighed.

Blair snorted, keeping his eyes on the road. "Not even close, man. Was it a tough case this time?"

Jim nodded. "I hate leaving a case unsolved."

"I thought you said you'd closed it."

"No, I said it was over. There have been murders in at least four states with the same MO: Arizona and New Jersey in October last year, California in November, and Maine just before this last one. So I told them to hand it over to the FBI. I stayed long enough to debrief with the Feds, but they don't need me around for the rest." Jim leaned back, looking up at the truck's ceiling. Lee Torrance, a lieutenant with the Ohio state police, called Jim in on the case for only one reason: because he knew Jim was faster than a forensics lab. Lee didn't exactly know about Jim's sentinel ability, but he knew enough: they'd worked together on a couple of cases over the years since Jim started consulting.

Jim went into this case expecting a straightforward investigation: the victims were a family active in local politics so motive seemed obvious. Lee wanted him to establish method, and that was where the case became weird. The fire department established that the fire burned at over four thousand degrees, which was impossible without some kind of high-temperature accelerant, and no trace of an accelerant was found. Jim examined the scene as closely as only a sentinel could. He found traces of sulphur (which the forensics team had missed) and a small amount of paraffin (which was news to no one - apparently the woman who was killed had been fond of those tacky decorative oil lamps).

The mystery led Jim to do some research, looking for other impossibly hot fires in the hope of finding out what kind of accelerant might have been used. Instead, Jim uncovered (or thought he had - the Feds hadn't confirmed anything yet) what looked like a serial murder case. The kind that was going to hit national headlines when the media caught on.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you?" Blair's voice interrupted Jim's thoughts.

Jim reached across to squeeze Blair's thigh, feeling the warmth of him through his pants. "Yeah, I wanted to be there for the arrest. But it's better to let the Feds have it. Whoever they are, they're moving around a lot. I guess it's just...there are some things I couldn't figure out. Like how they did it. It's bugging me."

"Why couldn't you...?"

"Chief," Jim interrupted, "I want to forget about it until I've had about ten hours sleep. Okay with you?"

"Sure, man." Blair fell silent agreeably.

Jim could feel himself dropping off to sleep again. That was no good. He'd sleep when they reached home. When he was in their bed. "Talk to me, Chief. How's the book coming?"

Blair grinned at him. "It's almost finished. I'll be done in another week, I think, then I can send it on to Angie and take a break for a while."

"So you'll come with me on the next job?" Jim asked hopefully. He could manage without Blair and on some jobs he had no choice. Some of the police departments he worked with refused to trust Blair's discretion because he was a crime writer. But it was always better when they worked a case together. When Jim knew he was being hired for his sentinel ability, he always took Blair along.

Blair answered enthusiastically, "You bet I'm coming!"

"Anything lined up?" Jim asked. Blair acted as, in effect, Jim's business agent, making arrangements, choosing jobs and so on, so he often knew before Jim where the next job would come from.

"Um...Nelson called with a tracking job. Colorado. If you want it."

"Bail jumper?"

"I think so. I told him you're not available for another week. He'll call back if the job's still on. D'you want to take it, Jim?"

Jim thought about it. "Maybe. Depends on the details. I'll look at the file if he calls back."

"We don't need the money, Jim."

"I know." Jim nodded. The accounts were in good shape. Blair's last book was still selling well and Jim worked hard enough last year to save a decent amount. He could afford to be picky about his next job. "So, tell me about our guests," he suggested to change the subject. He could see the lights of Panther Creek ahead.

"Oh. Two brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester. They seem okay." Blair fell silent while he turned the truck onto the hill road, then started talking again, telling Jim about the brothers and why they said they were in Panther Creek.

Jim groaned. "Not more UFO nuts?"

Blair slowed the truck and pointed the control at the gate. It swung open slowly. "I don't think so, man. They don't seem like the type."

And they were home. Jim climbed out of the truck and stretched, working the kinks out of his spine. He groaned. "I just want to fall into bed and sleep."

Blair smiled, coming around to his side. "Then why don't you?"

"Coming with me?"

"Uh...I'd love to, man, but I've gotta make breakfast for our guests."

In the bedroom, Jim undressed quickly. Blair left Jim's bags under the window. Jim came up behind him. "Chief."

Blair straightened and turned into Jim's hug, lifting his face for a kiss. Jim kissed him deeply, his fatigue retreating as he held his lover close. Coming home made the travelling worth it.

"Come to bed," Jim whispered into Blair's ear.

"I missed you," Blair said. It was as good as a yes.

Jim got into the bed but Blair just lay down above the comforter. Jim understood: Blair needed to stay awake and couldn't lie down for long. He gathered Blair into his arms and cuddled him close. "I missed you, too." In minutes, Jim was asleep.

Part Four