A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.


HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/13/
CHAPTER 4 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/27/
CHAPTER 5 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/6974.html

WARNING- CHAPTER 6: Some readers may find the contents of this chapter disturbing. Emotions run very high and we ask you to keep an open mind. It is not our intent to put our beloved characters in a bad light. Even so we will post a DUB/CON WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. Very much top sam in this chapter!

PS Our poor beta has not checked this chapter so all mistakes are ours alone
CHAPTER 6 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/02/
CHAPTER 7 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/7555.html
CHAPTER 8 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/17/
CHAPTER 9 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/8151.html
CHAPTER 10 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/17/
Chapter 11 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/22/
CHAPTER 12 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/28/
CHAPTER 13 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/09/10/
CHAPTER 14 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/9275.html
CHAPTER 15 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/9625.html

Descending the staircase, Dean and Sam made their way towards the smoking room. A small group of men stood outside quieting at their approach.

“That’s them, the Guardian and Seer.” Someone whispered loud enough for them to hear. Several sets of eyes turned looking the pair over before they entered the room.

Sam lent towards Dean and whispered loud enough for only him to hear. “Stick with me Dean. I’ve come across gatherings like this before. They are like sharks, they attack any form of weakness; anyone they feel does not fit in with their preconceived ideas.”

Entering the room it was immediately obvious to Dean who the head honcho was. He was standing in the center of the room talking to George and a circle of other men. This was a man used to giving orders, letting others do his bidding. A man who was not used to being told no. As tall as Sam, he looked to be in his late thirties, dark hair and gray eyes.

As they walked through the room, all eyes focused on them. Men shaking their hands, clapping them on the back as they passed by, wishing them luck. Uncomfortable with the attention, Dean followed Sam as they made their way towards George.

Spotting his two chums, George excused himself from the terrible bore he’d been stuck with for the past ten minutes and motioned with a tilt of his head for them to follow him. Once at the edge of the room he apologized for the intrusion of the Brotherhood, saying he should have seen it coming. The meeting was called by Lord Reginald Peregrine-Woolsey and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Lord Reginald Peregrine-Woolsey.” Dean mimicked. “What do they want? Why are they here?”

“Why to see you two, old boy.” George grinned. “Only comes round once a generation. You’re something of a celebrity. The new Guardian and Seer. Everyone wants to get a look, see what you are made of.” Pausing to take a worried look around, “you made sure to lock your door didn’t you, we don’t want any unexpected four legged guests?”

“Rose sent up a couple of beef bones so we should be in the clear for a while.” Sam pulled at the neck of his shirt, for some reason it felt too tight tonight. Fond though he was of his childhood friend, Sam didn’t hesitate to issue a caution. “I’m giving you fare warning George, neither Dean, nor myself have the time or patience to sit through an inquisition.”

“George, aren’t you going to introduce me to the guests of honor?” Lord Peregrine-Woolsey interrupted the three men, looking over Sam and Dean with a critical eye.

Back stiffening, George made the introductions. He was more than a little annoyed, he never minded entertaining; in the right circles he was renowned for his lavish dinner parties. The men here tonight were not invited, neither were they particularly welcome. Unfortunately manners and his position dictated he behave in the accepted manner. He could still have a little fun at the pompous ass’s expense. “Reggie,” because he knew Reginald Peregrine-Woolsey hated the diminutive of his given name, “I would like to introduce you to The Guardian, Mr. Dean Winchester, of Kansas, and The Seer, the Earl of Somerset, Lord Samuel Richards.”

Taking Dean’s extended hand Reginald politely shook it, before turning to Sam. “Ah, Lord Richards, I am honoured to make your acquaintance”

“Attention, please.” Reginald addressed the gathering, waiting till all eyes were upon him. “Gentlemen, I present to you the Seer and Guardian, Lord Samuel Richards and Mr. Dean Winchester.”

Mummers and mumbled acknowledgements abounded. Most of the assembled Brotherhood took the time to make themselves known to both of them. Sam noticed a few didn’t. As usual his title meant more than the man it belonged to, and Dean was snubbed by a snobbish few.

“Ah, ma wee boys, so this is where ya pair of wee scamps have been hiding?”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he looked around and then down, his face cracking into a genuine smile of welcome and affection. “Shamus!”

With a huge smile Dean watched as Sam and Shamus were reunited, admitting to himself it was nice to see another familiar face. “Shamus, it’s good to see you,” he said as he grasped the older man’s hand.

A gong sounded and the butler walked in announcing dinner was to be served.

Ever mindful of his status, Reginald took up his position next to George as they entered the large dining room. As the Earl of Pembroke took his spot at the head of the table, Reginald took his seat at George’s left with The Seer sitting next to him. Opposite to George’s right, sat The Guardian and the Irishman. Having Lord Richards sitting next to him would give Reginald the opportunity to discuss his plans for the events that would take place tomorrow.

“Excuse me Reggie,” Sam declined his seat at the table, not in the mood to face Reginald’s idea of polite conversation. No, he wanted to join Shamus and Dean, to put up a united front. Walking purposefully round the table to the other side, he tapped a small bearded man, whose name escaped him, on the shoulder asking politely if he wouldn’t mind swapping seats, Shamus moving down a seat to make room for Sam. “Close your mouth,” Sam added as he took his place next to Dean. Shamus’ wicked grin a fatherly mark of approval.

From across the table Reginald watched the three men. It turned his stomach seeing the young English lord consorting with the likes of a bog Irishman and a Yank. He still couldn’t fathom with the reach of the British Empire, an uncouth, ill mannered, American was The Guardian, their saviour. How George and Sam could be so charmed by the uneducated lout was beyond him.

Sam and Dean took the time to catch up with Shamus on news from home. Neither man telling Shamus what they learned about their roles as the Guardian and Seer. They would save that until they had a chance to speak to him in private.

Over dinner, Shamus watched the two young men on whose shoulders so much rested. Changes. Some subtle, some glaringly obvious, all were noted, worried over. He knew there was nothing he could do to change what was to come, no one could. So Shamus did what he did best, watched and waited for an opportunity to take some of the load.

Sam lost weight; there were shadows under his eyes. He sat too close to Dean, their shoulders touching, eyes constantly flitting Shamus wasn’t sure who was on guard duty tonight, Sam or Dean. Both seemed equally intent on the other’s welfare, perhaps they both were.

Dean. Dean in the short time Shamus had known him, was as implacable as ever on the outside. A front. A shell. A protective wall. A hunter’s face and manner. New lines radiated from watchful eyes. The tense set of shoulders, food re-arranged instead of eaten, gave light to the visual lie. Dean was not alright, neither was Sam. How could they be?

The Brotherhood, of which he was a long time member, was here almost in its entirety tonight.
Shamus could only guess, and backed up by the boys disposition, what he feared, was nothing good. Sam uptight and watchful, Dean guarded and on edge. Looking over the assembled group, Shamus sorted the wheat from the chaff, those that could be relied on and those who couldn’t.

Unfortunately, the self righteous figurehead, an ass by the name of Reginald Peregrine-Woolsey wouldn't be content until he learned what the boys discovered. Shamus knew his type only too well, he was a man who wanted the glory, as long as it was someone else spilling their blood. Shamus knew there was going to be what Dean called a showdown; Reginald would have it no other way. Shamus also suspected others would side with Reginald; the boys were not in for an easy time of it this evening.


Although the meal was excellent, Dean barely ate. He was aware of Reggie watching his every move, the all knowing smile as Dean picked up the wrong fork. The same fork Dean wanted to shove down the arrogant ass’ throat. Bits and pieces of conversation from the different groups around the table drifted their way. Some were discussing their role for tomorrow, others talking about how their lives would change if the Guardian and Seer succeeded, their lives free from the Brotherhood. To Dean‘s relief, most didn‘t want to talk about what happened if he and Sam failed; All the while the men from the Brotherhood glanced at Sam and Dean, trying to measure the two of them up.

Standing, Lord Peregrine-Woolsey tapped his glass, waiting for everyone to look his way. He lifted his glass towards Sam and Dean. “Gentlemen, please join me in a toast to the Guardian and Seer.” All glasses were raised. “To your success.”

“George, Lord Richards, Mr. Winchester, I have called for a small meeting after dinner. Please join us.” Even though Reginald said please, his tone left no doubt it was an order.
Dean acknowledged the shouts and cheers with a nod of his head. He and Sam would not fail, but these men had no idea what that meant; the sacrifice that went with it. For a moment a thought flitted through Dean’s mind. If he could talk to Shamus, maybe Sam could be saved. Shamus cast a spell once making Sam forget, could he do it again? Would he do that to save Sam’s life?


Sam drank the wine each time his glass was filled, food was however another matter. Try as he might, Sam’s throat closed up not allowing anything other than liquid to pass. “That’s alright by me, I’m not hungry,” Sam’s inner voice spoke, and judging by the full plate neither was Dean. Slipping the pocket watch loose Sam checked the time, an hour, a whole hour of precious time wasted. Taking the napkin from his lap and placing it on the table, Sam leant back in the chair, an over eager servant clearing away his untouched plate.

Dutifully, Sam sat through Reginald’s not unexpected toast. Reginald was, to the casual observer, politeness personified. Grinding his teeth Sam waited, sure enough as soon as dinner was finished, George relayed Reginald’s summons, thinly disguised in the form of an invitation. Following George plus several other members of the Brotherhood to an adjacent room, Sam grasped Dean’s arm halting him mid stride. “Dean lets not go. There’s nothing they have to say that I want to hear.”

Dean kept an eye on Sam all evening. Saw as he drank several glasses of wine, watched as he became more agitated as the night dragged on. “Sam, if this involves The Seer and The Guardian we should know firsthand We don’t have to stay, we can leave if things get out of hand.” For some reason, at the back of his mind, Dean had a nagging feeling Sam was probably right about them not joining those summoned for the meeting.

Entering the darkened room, Reginald indicated for Sam and Dean to have a seat. Dean watched intently as Reginald motioned for one of the young lords they met earlier in the evening to pour a round of drinks. Besides himself and Sam, George, and four of Reginald’s lackeys were present. Dean was beginning to think perhaps Sam was right, they shouldn’t have come. Turning to look at Sam, Dean caught the familiar smell of pipe tobacco. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on the small figure in the darkened corner. Smiling, he sat back taking the glass offered to him.

Taking a seat directly opposite Sam and Dean, Reggie sized up the two young men. Although Lord Richards had been somewhat brazen at dinner, Reggie was sure he could intimidate the young lord. After all, Sam only carried the title for a year. “Gentlemen, as the head of the Brotherhood of St Michael, I don’t need to tell you how important it is for your mission to be successful. A member of the Brotherhood will be with you at all times tomorrow. All your actions will be recorded. Tell me Sam, what have you discovered in your search to destroy Baliazar?”

Staring into the amber liquid swirling in the bottom of the crystal glass, Sam sought escape. Reginald’s annoying voice dragged him back to reality. Setting the glass down with deliberate caution, Sam glared at Reginald. “I always thought you were a lightweight, a little slow on the uptake. Tell me Reggie, what’s not to understand? The contents of George’s cellar are for the Guardian and Seer only. Not for the Guardian, the Seer, and the remaining members of the Brotherhood, and whoever else fancies taking a look! The knowledge contained in the casket is not meant for any of you here.”

Picking up his drink, Sam took a large mouthful, his eyes settling on Dean before he swallowed. “A word of warning, if I as much as smell, let alone see any of you near Dean or I, here, or at The Stones tomorrow, the deals off!”

“Lord Richards, as a member of the Brotherhood, you have no right to speak to Lord Woolsey like that. You took an oath like the rest of us to follow his leadership.” The short blond man who was constantly at Reggie’s side stated.

“Actually, neither Dean nor I took an oath. And even if I had, my answer would still be the same.” Sam stared daggers at Reginald’s right hand man.

“I’m sorry, Sam, you misunderstood. I wasn’t asking for you to disclose the contents of the cellar. We know that is for The Seer and The Guardian.” Reggie decided to take a different approach. “I was asking to ensure there was nothing new, that we have made all the necessary preparations. We have our duties to attend to, as do you and Dean. By your wishes I will have our men keep their distance.”

“Tell me Lord Woolsey, have you learned anything that we need to be aware of?” Dean stood, pacing the room before he stopped behind Sam’s chair. One hand gripping the top of the chair, the other resting his fingertips against Sam’s shoulder trying to hold him back. “You have to understand, the Brotherhood told us very little. Only what they want us to know it seems.”

“As you know by now Dean, it’s not safe to keep everything together in one place. That’s how it is with us also. If one of us should fall into the wrong hands, there is only so much he would be able to disclose. It’s for everyone’s protection.” Reggie responded. “Didn’t my representative explain that to you when you choose to do this?”

“What are you talking about? There was no representative from you. Sam and I didn’t choose to do this, not like the rest of you. We were born into this. Our destiny. The almighty Brotherhood, taking advantage of two desperate women who only wanted to have children. The only good thing to come from this, is knowing that after tomorrow there will be no more need for the Brotherhood and the likes of you!”

Indignant, the short blond jumped up. “How dare you speak to his lordship like that. He should have you whipped like the dog you are. I suggest Lord Richards; you keep your cur on a leash.”

Sam didn’t think, he reacted. He was out of his chair fist thudding into short and blond, and adding broken nose and bloody to the description before anyone could raise a hand to stop him. It was amazing Sam thought, looking down at the blubbering mess on the floor, how it was possible to hate a man so completely without even knowing his name. But Sam did with a passion.

Rubbing his bruised knuckles Sam rounded on Reginald. “I suggest you keep the rest of your… entourage, on a tight rein.” Turning to Dean, “are we finished?”

Like everyone else in the room, Dean stood there in shock for a moment watching as Sam pummeled the short blond. Rounding the chair, he grabbed Sam by the waist pulling him back before releasing him. Surprised by Sam’s vicious attack he could only nod as Sam asked if they were finished.

Shamus almost sucked the tobacco out of his pipe in surprise. Gone was his gentle, well mannered boy, and in his place was Dean’s equal, fiercely protective and lethal when pushed. Not that Shamus blamed him, not one iota. Reginald had miscalculated badly. Neither Dean nor Sam would be cowed by his position in an order neither willingly served. Slipping from his chair he crossed the room, opening the door he pointed to the sobbing man on the floor and asked the two men standing guard outside to take care of the mess.

Reginald was an ass and always would be, that was the main reason Shamus kept out of Brotherhood business. Why he insisted Sam have no contact with the ancient order until he met his Guardian. Catching Dean’s eyes he asked. “Will ya be joining an old man in a glass o’ whiskey?”

“It would be my pleasure, but I suggest you join us in our apartment. I think this meeting of the Brotherhood is finished.” Turning Sam towards the door, Dean gave him a slight push. “Come on Sam, let’s go.”

Dean looked over at Reggie before leaving the room. “Lord Woolsey, I suggest you take Sam’s advice, keep your men away from us. We know what needs to be done tomorrow and we’ll see to it. We didn‘t ask for, or need your help.”

Entering the apartment, Dean pointed Shamus to the small sideboard where a large crystal decanter of whiskey sat. Holding up two fingers he let Shamus know Sam had enough.

Taking Sam to his room, Dean removed Sam’s tie, waistcoat, jacket, and shoes telling him to lie down. Going to the bath, Dean filled a small basin with cool water, grabbing a cloth before returning to Sam. Careful of Sam’s bruised knuckles, Dean proceeded to wash away the blood covering Sam’s hands. Once finished he pulled up the sheet covering him.

Sam put up with Dean’s fussing, in truth his head was thumping. Tension? Most likely, though the large amount of wine he drank at dinner on an empty stomach would not have helped. Mind you, that pompous ass Reggie and his cohorts had a fair bit to answer for. Sam was not in the least sorry for anything he said or did tonight.

What right did the Brotherhood have to dictate terms and conditions? They were not the ones… Stop it! Don’t think about it! But inevitably he did, sucked once more into the endless downward spiral. There was no escaping. No handing the task to someone else. No, for better or worse, both he and Dean were stuck. Stuck in the waking nightmare that was their life. Life? That was hilarious, Sam sniggered to himself. In under twenty four hours not only his, but Dean’s life would be over. All he could hope was that it would not be in vain.

Dean regretted not listening to Sam about the Brotherhood meeting. He knew he was agitated, but he never anticipated Sam resorting to violence. Removing his own tie, waistcoat, and jacket, he tossed them over the chair.

Returning to the sitting room, Dean picked up the glass of whiskey Shamus poured for him. He paced around the room before stopping at the window where he looked out over the garden, illuminated by the moon. Even with his back turned he could feel Shamus’ eyes watching him. Dean always suspected the little Irishman knew more about the Guardian and the Seer than he told them. He believed that was the reason he was here now. Nervously, Dean looked over at Shamus. “Tomorrow, after everything’s done…We left instructions for George, but now that you’re here, we would like you to take care of it for us.”

Dean walked back to the chair and sat opposite Shamus. “When we went to The Stones, Sam remembered a vision he had as a child. Later he recalled his dream; the one where Baliazar visited him. I think you know what I’m talking about.” Dean hesitated. He didn’t want Sam to die. Thoughts of his father, lonely and obsessed came to mind. Visions of James, old before his time. He didn’t want that for Sam. Could he ask Shamus to make Sam forget? He wouldn’t ever want to forget Sam. Coughing to clear his throat, Dean met Shamus’ eyes. “What would you do to save Sam?”

“What would you do to save Sam?” Dean’s question was not unreasonable but the motive was. Messing with someone’s mind was dangerous. Yes, he’d done it to Sam with good reason. To give a young boy back his childhood and save his sanity. But to mess with an adult’s mind was dangerous. Where a child, especially a young child, tended to accept, an adult would always question. Especially Sam. Shamus thought he knew why Dean wanted his help but he needed to hear it for himself. “I think ya owe me an explanation, and it better be a damn good one.”

Maybe asking Shamus wasn’t the right thing to do. Dean wasn’t sure how much to share with the older man, and now Shamus demanded an explanation. Dean was willing to make that sacrifice, to die to save others. But Sam, it wasn’t fair that Sam’s life would be over too. “What if I told you I won’t be coming back tomorrow, that in order to destroy Baliazar I have to die?”

“I know. Have faith Dean.”

“You know? How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell us? You tell me to have faith, what bit of advice are you going to have for Sam? Are you going to tell him good things will come from him plunging a knife in my heart? Guilt is eating him up and he hasn’t even done anything yet.”

“Now Dean, I didna have all the evidence an I still don’t. But I could guess which is why I forbade the Brotherhood from having any influence over wee Sam’s life. He needed to be innocent, free, unfettered by the Brotherhood’s dictates. Yer Da, he raised ya right Dean; ya turned into a fine young man. A self sacrificing, loyal, loving young man. Dean I have faith, in the prophecy, faith in you and ma boy. Faith in the almighty.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell Sam? Have faith. You saw Sam tonight. He beat a man over a few stupid words. That’s not Sam. Did you know Sam is planning on killing himself when it’s over? And my dad, he raised me not to trust anyone. Self sacrificing you say. My dad taught me everyone was more important than I was. Sam was the one who taught me how to love.”

“What did ya say?” Shamus’ hands shook, his pipe tumbling to the floor scattering ash and smoldering tobacco. “Shite! Damn wee egit!” Several other colorful words slipped out as he tried to clean up the mess.

Squatting down, Dean helped Shamus as they cleaned up the mess, making sure all the embers were extinguished. Dean looked over at Shamus. “I don’t know what to do. Is it fair for me to ask him to do something I couldn’t?”

Like most Irish people, Shamus’ family was deeply religious and suicide, no matter the reason, was a grave sin. Well you’re nothing if not successful when ya put ya mind ta it! Shamus admonished himself. All the qualities he’d sought in Sam were now driving him towards suicidal thoughts. The lad loved Dean with a singular passion and it was plain for anyone who took the time to look. Shamus never formed a romantic attachment, never felt the need, nor had the time. Sam filled that particular hole in his life. From the moment the red squealing bundle was placed in his arms by a proud David, Shamus was besotted.

Over the years his love and devotion to the boy grew, Sam filling a huge empty hole in his heart, where a wife and children of his own could never be. Shamus was well aware it would take a very special pair to finish what no other Guardian and Seer could. Inevitably, he faced the thought that both could be killed. What he failed to consider was Sam serving, and then when his mind was unbalanced, taking his own life. Feeling awkward, Shamus patted Dean’s arm. “I could do as ya ask, make Sam forget, take him away from here. Although I have to warn ya, the likelihood is he will fight the spell craft and sooner or later he will remember.”

“Shamus, I don’t want Sam to die.” Dean could feel his embarrassment. “I love Sam. As much as I want him to live, I can’t make that choice for him.”

From his vantage point behind the door Sam listened. It saddened him greatly to realize Dean really hadn’t accepted his decision. Perhaps he couldn’t? Sam remembered what it felt when he woke from his illness and discovered the letters Dean left, together with the loaded gun. He’d been devastated. Shocked that Dean would even think about taking his life. Dean was desperate; he could hear it in the tone of his voice. What it must cost this proud, private man to bare his soul and ask for help Sam could only imagine.

You brought him to this point, why couldn’t you have kept your thoughts to yourself? Look at the harm your thoughtlessness has caused. All Dean sought was peace of mind before he gave his life. Why, oh why, did it take listening to a private conversation to make him understand? The least he could do was offer Dean a small measure of comfort. One year. Dean would know if he suddenly changed his mind, but he might buy the promise of a year. Walking away from the door and any further temptation to eavesdrop Sam called out to Dean.

Hearing his name, Dean excused himself from Shamus. Entering the bedroom, he saw Sam propped against the headboard. Dean sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you need, Sammy?”

“One year, Dean.”

“One year?” Dean was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Dean, I heard you.”

“You were listening to us? I’m sorry. I was just asking, thinking out loud. I don’t think we would have done anything. I had to tell someone, Sam. And you are the most important person in both our lives.”

“I don’t know whether to believe, Shamus I know can be a devious bastard. All I ask is that you not interfere and I promise to give you one year. If I still feel the same, then it will be my decision alone what I do about it, and I want yours and Shamus’ promise that you will in no way meddle.” Sam didn’t care if Dean believed him or not, all he wanted was for them not to argue. Trying not to think about tomorrow was hard enough without having to worry about what Dean and Shamus might be up to when his back was turned.

One year. That was more than Dean could ask for. Maybe that was even more cruel. Would one year ease the guilt and pain or make it even more unbearable? For once Dean couldn’t read Sam’s eyes. “I promise Sam, neither Shamus or I will do anything, you have my word.”

Returning to the sitting room, Dean left the door between the two rooms open. Picking up his glass he finished the whiskey. Dean looked over at Shamus’ curious gaze. “Sam promised he won’t do anything for one year. I gave him my word that you and I will do nothing to interfere with his decision. Will you give us your word as well?”

“If that is truly your wish, I will not interfere.” Guilt over their conversation being overheard by Sam kept him from saying more.

“It is.” Motioning towards the whiskey bottle, Dean gave Shamus a smile. “You can let yourself out when you’re finished.” He was certain Shamus would be up to see them off tomorrow. Before returning to the bedroom he looked over one more time. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Sam wasn’t really paying much attention to Dean’s and Shamus’ conversation. Already he was regretting his hasty decision, backed into a corner unable to trust either of them not to take his memories; he was left with little choice. At least Dean seemed relieved and that was what really mattered.

The only thing Dean wanted now was to be with Sam. Closing the door behind him as he entered the bedroom, he walked over to the bed. Leaning down he told Sam to scoot over before he slid in next to him.

The sound of their breathing seemed to echo in the quiet room. Dean knew neither of them would get much sleep, if any. He could feel Sam watching him. This was their last night together. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start, afraid he’d say the wrong thing.

As the nearly full moon flooded their room with light, Sam watched Dean, drinking in the image. Enough to last a year? Probably not. He wished he had Dean’s talent for drawing; he could have a permanent reminder of what Dean looked like. Instead he would have to rely on memory.

Normally Dean would make a joke to relieve the tension, but there was nothing funny to joke about. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but the first night we met, I stayed awake most of the night thinking about you. After all these months you still have that affect on me.”

Tags: angst, historical romance, horror, nc17, slash

A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.


HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/13/
CHAPTER 4 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/27/
CHAPTER 5 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/6974.html

WARNING- CHAPTER 6: Some readers may find the contents of this chapter disturbing. Emotions run very high and we ask you to keep an open mind. It is not our intent to put our beloved characters in a bad light. Even so we will post a DUB/CON WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. Very much top sam in this chapter!

PS Our poor beta has not checked this chapter so all mistakes are ours alone
CHAPTER 6 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/02/
CHAPTER 7 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/7555.html
CHAPTER 8 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/17/
CHAPTER 9 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/8151.html
CHAPTER 10 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/17/
Chapter 11 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/22/
CHAPTER 12 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/28/
CHAPTER 13 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/09/10/
CHAPTER 14 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/9275.html

The massive fireplace was lit to ward off the chill of the September evening. The warm glow shadowed the huge room. Samson and Delilah were stretched out on the rug at the foot of the bed, their bellies full from Rose’s cooking. With so much on their minds, Sam and Dean barely touched their dinner, much to the hounds delight. Dean was propped comfortably against the headboard. Sam’s warm body lay back against his chest. Running his fingers through Sam’s dark tresses, Dean‘s mind wandered during the lull in conversation.

There was much to be done. Tomorrow he would give George the letters putting all his final affairs in order. He was sure Sam prepared his as well, even though he never saw him do it. There were a few things he wanted to discuss with Sam, but one look at his young lover and he knew this was not the time or place.

Dean missed the idle chatter he was accustomed to when he and Sam were like this. So many nights spent talking about their plans and dreams for the future, Sam’s laughter would fill the quiet air of their room in Kansas. Now they were half a world away and there was nothing to laugh about, their dreams turned to nightmares. There was no longer a future, and their plans…well, he didn’t want to think about that either.

Sam was almost asleep, leant back against Dean, one hand in his hair, the other wrapped possessively across his stomach. Sam drifted in that place between sleep and awake. Forcibly jerking himself awake when he drifted too near sleep, as fear of nightmares made it impossible to sleep. The day’s events kept replaying inside his head, repeating over and over. Dean’s possession and worse having to practice his role with the knife. Sam’s stomach protested, churning violently at the remembered feel of the now hated and feared weapon.

The thought of holding Dean as he died was unbearable, Sam’s mind skittering protectively down another avenue in self preservation. Unfortunately everything he thought about led straight back to their current situation.

Sam was desperately scared of failing Dean, of not being able to do what needed to be done when the time came. Guilt gnawed constantly, he couldn’t sleep and nearly every waking moment seemed to be filled with thoughts of Wednesday and what the Brotherhood and Dean expected him to do.

What was he going to do after? One thing was certain, living without Dean was not an option. If Dean managed to coerce Sam into living, the guilt and knowledge of what he did would drive him insane

That left only one option. Sam never before entertained the idea of suicide, therefore nothing immediately sprang to mind when he thought of methods. Asking Dean was out of the question, or was it? Who else was there? Who else could he trust?

No one. Sam trusted only one person, Dean. Sam cleared his throat, “Dean?” It came out sounding exactly how he felt, small and scared.

Morbid thoughts kept running through Dean’s mind. Their failure was not an option. He was preoccupied with the thought of Sam’s death. It was just the little things, but Dean knew what Sam was planning. Dean knew he’d choose a bullet, but what about Sam? The images of what a bullet would do to Sam’s beautiful body made him shudder.

Hearing his name, Dean drew the quilt up closer, tightening his hold on Sam. There was uncertainty in the way Sam said his name. Dropping his hand from Sam’s hair, he rubbed his hands up and down Sam’s arms trying to warm the goose-bumped flesh. “What is it, Sammy?”

“I need your advice on something. Something I know you’re not going to like, but I have no one else.” Sam’s throat closed up, he thought he could ask but now he realized he couldn’t. Jumping up off the bed and away from Dean, Sam grabbed a robe wrapping it about himself, suddenly very cold. “I’m sorry I don’t know what I’m thinking, tired I guess.” Please, please, please swallow the lie, Sam pleaded silently as he finished tying the sash.

Dean wasn’t prepared for Sam’s sudden departure. The absence of his warm body made him shiver. Getting up from the bed, Dean realized Sam must be thinking the same thing. It was the one thing they disagreed on. Drawing them closer to the fire, Dean wrapped himself around Sam. “I’m here. Tell me what you want and I’ll help you.”

“Why does everything have to be so… so bloody hard? Why can’t we have the life we want? Other people do. Why can’t we? What did you ever do to deserve this? You were just a little kid. Your dad dragged you around with him, forced you to live the life of a hunter, knowing what was in store for you. What gave Shamus and the Brotherhood the right to take our lives, to blindly force us both down a path we have no say in?” Sam knew he was ranting but couldn’t stop. “Why does it all fall to us, Dean? Why should we make the ultimate sacrifice? What right do they have to ask that of us? I’m this close,” he held his finger and thumb a hair’s width apart, “from walking away and letting the Brotherhood deal with everything on their own.”

Sam was voicing so many of the same questions Dean asked himself over and over. Dean knew Sam’s life never prepared him for this. Although generous and sympathetic, he was shielded from the harsher realities of those less fortunate. Out of love, Shamus protected Sam until fate intervened. The circumstances of Dean’s life readied him for this, to sacrifice himself for others, but that was before Sam. Sam was teetering on the brink, and it was up to Dean to pull him back.

Honestly, Dean couldn’t believe he was still alive. How many times had he survived when the odds were against him? Now he was supposed to willingly lie down and let himself be killed? No, it wasn’t fair; would he choose to do this if it wasn’t part of his destiny? The only good thing to come from it all was having Sam in his life. “You know as well as I do why. People live the lives forced on them all the time. You’ve seen with your own eyes what will happen if we don’t stop Baliazar. You couldn‘t live with that on your conscience any more than I could.”

Sam braced his hands against the mantle piece staring into the flickering red, orange, and gold of the fire. “I don’t know Dean. If I had you I think there’s an awful lot I could learn to live with.”

Taking Sam’s arm Dean turned him so they were facing each other. Cupping Sam’s chin he looked into his face. He watched the play of shadows across the high cheekbones, saw the flames reflected in Sam’s eyes. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for our destiny. You are the best thing that ever happened in my life Sam. I don’t want to give that up, to give you up. But the last few months spent with you make this worth while, if it meant that I would have been alone otherwise.”

Dean took a deep breath, “Sammy, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Now that Dean started he was having trouble finding the words. “When it’s over…I mean when I’m gone, I know you’ve made up your mind. I don’t want you to suffer. I have something that will help you. It’ll be quick.” He thought about the small vial of potassium cyanide carefully secured in his trunk.


Sam shouldn’t have been surprised, although Dean didn’t have any psychic abilities, what he did have was a sixth sense where Sam was concerned. Hiding anything from Dean was next to impossible. Therefore the next logical step was for Dean to have taken the time and trouble to find an easy way out for him. What it cost Dean to put those thoughts into actions Sam could only guess, at times like this Sam felt truly humble. Meeting Dean’s intense earnest gaze, a softly whispered “thank you,” seemed somewhat inadequate.

Reaching out Dean took Sam’s hand. “Come on Sam, back to bed. We should try and get a few hours of sleep, or at least rest.” Dean was sure neither would be able to fall asleep, but he missed the intimacy the bed provided, even if they were only holding one another. Dean watched Sam climb back into the huge bed. “I‘ll be back in just a minute.” Going to his room, he pulled the small box from his jacket where he placed it earlier. Returning to Sam, Dean slid in next to him.

“Uh…Sammy…” What seemed like a good idea a few minutes earlier, now left Dean feeling nervous and unsure. “I um… I asked George to pick something up for me. I wanted you to have this.” Dean handed the small box to Sam and waited.

Sam looked from the small red leather box in the palm of his hand to Dean’s uncharacteristically nervous face. Carefully opening the hinged lid, Sam saw two silver signet rings nestled inside. Picking the one with his initials, his keen eyes noticed the engraving on the inside. Turning the ring to catch the light, he read the words aloud, “Honore Et Amore.” Honor And Love.

Sam opened his mouth, closed it, only to open it once more. He was truly stunned. He didn’t know what to say, how to express the feelings Dean’s simple heartfelt gift stirred in him. Picking up the second ring it was also engraved with the same words. A matched pair. Dean was watching him expecting a response. “They’re beautiful Dean.”

Dean watched Sam slip on his ring before handing the box back. Taking his own ring from the box, Dean put it on his right hand. Glancing at Sam, he watched as he twisted the silver metal around his finger. “I’m glad you like it. I didn’t think you would mind if I used your family motto for me too.”

“Mind? I think it was a brilliant idea.” Sam continued staring at the band of silver encircling his finger. He could only guess what prompted Dean to make this open display of affection. Against their tanned skin the two rings would be instantly seen and commented upon.

Nervously, Dean tried to explain. “I’ve never belonged anywhere before. I was always the one passing through. Even with the ranch, I probably wouldn’t have stayed until you came along. You and me Sam, you’re the only thing I’ve ever been part of. I’m not good with words, not like you. I wanted you to know.”

“It’s a two way street, what we feel for each other Dean, what we will do for each other. The words are not necessary,” he smiled, “but they are nice to hear once in a while.”

Fluffing the pillows, Dean slid down, extending his arm he waited as Sam nestled into him. Pulling the quilt up, he covered them both, hoping for at least a few restful hours of sleep.

******

Most of the night Sam and Dean drifted back and forth from a fitful sleep, each trying not to wake the other, but neither succeeding. The restless scratching of the hounds to be let out was the final straw. Now bathed and shaved, Dean finished the letters needed to settle his personal affairs. Coffee in hand he paced the room awaiting Sam’s return.

Dean admitted to himself, curiosity had the better of him. From the window he watched as several carriages, wagons, and bands of riders descended on Wilton House. Some of those arriving wore the familiar brown robes of the Brotherhood. Dean could only imagine they were here in case he and Sam failed.

Closing George’s study door behind him, Sam paused a moment. A mental checklist of the things he needed to do now complete. George and Sam used the same solicitor so tying up the estate or what was left of it was fairly simple, George acting as witness to the letters and the will he made. Sam’s share of his Kansas home with Dean he left to Shamus. The London house and funds enough to run it, he left to his staff. The final letter to Dean’s father, John was a little more difficult. After a lot of thought Sam left the bulk of the remaining assets to John to do with as he wished. Money would not make up for the loss of a son, nothing would. Perhaps it would enable John to have an easier life or help other dedicated hunters with supplies, weapons or even a place to stay. A safe house.

A commotion from the front of the house drew Sam’s attention. Not in the mood for socializing, he made for the small hallway that led to the side entrance and the stables, Samson his canine shadow at his heels. Sam knew dogs were perceptive and these two seemed especially so. Since arriving at George’s home the two hounds rarely left his or Dean’s side unless forced to, and since yesterday they refused to leave either of them. Barking and scratching at the door until they were let in.

Entering the stables the familiar sounds and smells eased some of the tension, the ingrained routine of tacking up, relaxing and calming frayed nerves. Leading the mare outside Sam gathered up the reins and ignoring the mounting block he swung his long leg over the saddle. Gathering up the reins he called out to James, the head groom, telling him he wouldn’t be long.

Samson trotted alongside looking from Sam to the large party of riders and carriages gathered at the front entrance. Hackles raised, a low warning growl rumbled in his throat. Samson circled the horse placing himself between Sam and the large party. All activity stopped and low murmurs could be heard as he drew near. Hearing his name Sam looked around. A large bearded man stepped forward calling out, “Lord Richards.” Samson’s warning growl rising to a ferocious snarl, dissuading the bearded man from venturing closer. “Good boy,” was said loud enough for all to hear and for once Sam didn’t care what anyone thought. Ignoring him Sam urged his mare into a fast trot eager to escape the unwanted attention.

Leaving the mare tied to the iron railings, and faithful Samson on the church steps, Sam entered the huge church, the warmth of the late September sun instantly swallowed by the cold of the churches interior. Picking a pew Sam sat quietly, he felt the need to pray in the house of God. Hopefully wherever he was, God was listening, because whether he believe in God or not, he and Dean needed help. Slipping off the highly polished pew Sam knelt on the small red cushion, bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prayed.

Sam never knew if praying helped or not. Brought up in a family with strong beliefs missing church was not as option. Every Sunday the family went to church. Prayers were said at mealtimes and last thing at night before going to bed. As far back as Sam could remember that was the routine and he went along with it. As his mum always said, it couldn’t hurt to have God on your side in a tight situation.

Clearing his mind Sam thought about Dean. Asking for God’s forgiveness for any sins Dean may have committed, he asked for God’s love and protection for Dean’s eternal soul. Lastly he prayed for the strength to do the right thing.

******

The longer Sam was gone the more impatient Dean became, checking his watch every few minutes. Nerves already frayed, he decided to go look for Sam. Calling to Delilah, “come on girl, let’s find Sam.”

Following Delilah, Dean found himself at the Church of St. Mary and St. Nicholas in the town center. Samson was patiently lying on the steps next to the huge arched entry. Entering the church, Dean’s eyes quickly fixed on Sam sitting on a pew in the front, his head bowed in prayer. Taking a seat in the back row Dean silently watched. After everything, how could Sam still have faith?

It was ironic; so much of what he did with hunting revolved around religion and beliefs, from exorcisms to holy water. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to believe. Maybe it was everything he’d seen, so many lives touched by evil. Where was God when he was needed? Why would he allow horrible things to happen to innocent people?

Dean spent a lot of time in churches. For a time as a boy his father left him with an order to learn Latin and the necessary rituals. His life there was harsh, and he bore the scars of his disobedience, forced prayers and confessed sins of an inquisitive and sometimes mischievous child. Father Thomas wasn’t able to beat the sin out of Dean anymore than he could beat the word of God into him. Stubbornly Dean learned his lessons, bided his time until his father returned.

He and Sam weren’t even guaranteed eternity together. Dean knew what awaited him. He knew demons were real, knew Hell was real. After all the things he’d done over the years, that would be his final resting place. He didn’t expect his death to wipe the slate clean.

Sam didn’t deserve to go to Hell. He’d never killed anyone. An ordained sacrifice for the greater good should not be held against him. Suicide was a sin, but wasn‘t it a greater sin to live with the guilt of what he was forced to do? As for what they did, how could love be a sin?

Looking around the huge church, he noticed the windows, like most churches they told the familiar stories from the bible. Sacrifices made in the name of God. Good vanquishing evil.

For Sam he could get on his knees. Dean quietly made his way to where Sam was praying. Slipping in beside him, he saw the surprised look on Sam’s face as he went to his knees. Bowing his head, he asked God to take and watch Sam’s soul.

A rustle of material and a bump against the pew alerted Sam to someone else’s presence. Opening one eye Sam was not surprised to find it was Dean. A few seconds later you could have knocked him down with a feather. Dean sinking to his knees in a church to pray, not something Sam thought he would ever see.

His prayers quickly finished, Dean stood and exited the church. Sitting on the stone steps he waited patiently with the hounds for Sam, the three of them soaking in the warm rays of the sun. The changing season was evident everywhere. The days still warm, the nights taking on a chill. Autumn was always Dean’s favorite time of year.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Sam leaving the church until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Thinking about tomorrow combined with lack of sleep left him jumpy, he gave a nervous laugh at being caught unaware.

“Who found me, you or the dog?” Three sets of eyes followed his progress as he lowered himself to the stone step.

Smiling, Dean couldn’t help himself. “Who said we were looking for you? Delilah was lonely. We came looking for Samson. Can we help it if the two of you are inseparable?” With a more serious tone Dean continued. “You shouldn’t have left without telling me.”

“Sorry, I had a few things to do and… well I know you don’t exactly like church.” Scratching Samson’s belly he joined in the joke. “Hey Samson you lucky dog.” On a more serious note Sam continued, “I take it you saw our visitors?”

“You know it could be dangerous out by yourself, Sam. I was worried about you when you didn’t come back to the room. And our visitors, hard to miss when they show up like that. Did George say anything to you about them being here?”

“We only spoke briefly.” Stopping mid scratch, Sam frowned. “What do you think they want?”

“My best guess is they are expecting trouble, one way or another. Knowing Baliazar could be free other demons might be gathering to help. Or if we fail...”

“Do you think they come every time? I mean someone has to take care of… things after.” Samson leant against Sam’s leg, head resting on his knee.

Reaching over Dean patted Samson's head, his hand touching Sam's. "Probably. Everything has to be recorded in the ledger. And they have to clean up. They can't leave The Stones like that, too many questions might come up."

“I don’t want them there.”

Dean understood Sam’s reluctance to have anyone there. He felt the same. “I don’t know how we can stop them. We can tell them, but that doesn’t mean they’ll listen.”

Oh they’ll listen Sam thought, as he angrily pushed to his feet, there was no way he and Dean were performing in front of an audience. “We’ll see about that.” Striding over to the iron railing, Sam untied the patiently waiting mare while pausing for Dean to catch up.

Dean watched the determined set of Sam’s jaw, saw the flash of fire in hazel eyes. Falling in beside him, they made the walk back to George’s in comfortable silence.

Anger grew as they neared the huge house. Sam was aware of Dean’s scrutiny but for the most part ignored it. Entering the gravel drive all was peaceful once more. The only difference was the two sentries standing guard either side of the main entrance.

Dropping the mare at the stable they entered the large house through the back entrance of the kitchen making their way up to their apartment.

Once in the sanctuary of their room, Dean poured two whiskeys, handing one to Sam before asking him to recite the summoning and the binding curse. Dean listened intently as Sam recited both flawlessly without hesitation while pacing around the room. Trying to calm Sam, Dean told him to sit. Standing behind the chair, Dean kneaded his shoulders to loosen the tension.

Delilah’s low growl alerted them to someone outside their door before the knock ever came. Opening the door, Dean watched an uncomfortable Duffy present a silver tray with a small envelope. Taking the envelope Dean thanked the elderly man. Turning it over, he saw the seal of the Brotherhood of St Michael. Handing the envelope to Sam, Dean resumed his place waiting patiently for Sam to open it.

Sam felt his shoulders tighten once more as he broke the seal on the letter. He knew who it would be from and for some reason he felt irrational anger towards them. It must have shown because Dean gripped his shoulder in a vice like grip holding him down. Unfolding the white embossed paper Sam scanned the terse message. “It looks like we have been summoned.”

Reading over Sam’s shoulder, Dean came to the same conclusion. Although disguised as an invitation to dinner at eight o’clock, there was no doubt in either’s mind. Dean knew one of them needed to keep a cool head. Unsure of exactly what the Brotherhood’s motives were they could only wait and see. “I think we need to prepare for dinner.”

Dressing in their Henry Poole designed and tailor made tuxedos added a certain air of authority. A layer of armor. A layer of civility that Sam in no way felt at the moment. Tucking in the dress shirt he turned to Dean to fix his tie. “Are you ok? You don’t have to go. I'm used to dealing with their sort. The title has its uses at times.”

“Sammy, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Dean fidgeted as Sam’s long fingers finished with his tie. One look at Sam’s face and Dean knew there would be fireworks before the evening was over. “We are both part of this Sam. We‘re the ones making the sacrifice.”

Sacrifice. Images flashed behind Sam’s closed lids. Unwanted images of him plunging the knife… moving swiftly to the adjoining bathroom, Sam let the sink fill with cold water before splashing it over his face. The images vanished but the memory did not. Twenty four hours, that’s all they had left. Just twenty four hours. “Come on Dean, let’s get this over with.”

The minute the word sacrifice left his mouth Dean knew he said the wrong thing. Sam’s reaction was not unexpected. Dean felt the overpowering need to touch, to comfort Sam. As Sam’s hand reached for the doorknob, Dean stopped him. Reaching up, Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s hair before pulling his head down till their mouths met in a long, slow kiss, telling Sam everything words couldn’t say

Tags: angst, historical romance, horror, nc-17, slash

CHAPTER 13

After plenty of coffee and a small breakfast, Sam and Dean were back in the cellar. A list was compiled of the things they needed for the ritual. Most of the items were readily available. Marie gladly replaced the precious oils needed for summoning and protections that were lost in the tornado before their departure. The various gardens from the large estate provided the herbs. Questioning Dean’s choice of a silver bowl, he explained to Sam that silver repelled evil and in alchemy it was called luna, the moon. Tracing his fingers against the small of Sam’s back, he told him it was represented by a crescent moon.

Pulling out the scroll and books, Dean found he couldn’t help himself. The need to touch Sam, the urge to let his hands linger was overwhelming. They would have to go through the summoning and the ritual step by step. Taking his sketches of the stones, he laid them on the table. Between the visions and the scroll they were soon busy making plans.

Sam tried to pay attention, really he did, but the night time conversation in the bathroom was still too fresh in his mind. He knew the nightmare was just his mind’s way of sorting information, getting it wrong and playing on his fears and insecurities. What he hadn’t expected and perhaps he should have, was Dean’s response. Bolting for the bathroom was the very last thing he expected to happen. Dean was just as scared as he was, but as he later found out for a very different reason. Dean was terrified of what would happen after his death, not of actually dying. No, what scared Dean Winchester was Sam joining him. Sam wanted to allay his fears. Living a lonely lifetime without Dean, living with the knowledge of what he was forced to do was not an option. Much as he hated hurting Dean, there was no way he could do as Dean wanted. Thankfully Dean dropped the subject.

So here they were, once again in the cold, damp, musty cellar researching, fine tuning the summoning they needed to perform. Checking that all the provisions were at hand, nothing could be left to chance, for them and humanity on that night there would be no second chances.

Laying out the scroll, Dean made Sam study it, memorize it. Handing him his sketch pad, he told him to draw the sigil over and over again. Neither dared speak a word, making every noise, every sound echo through the small chamber. When Sam said he was ready, Dean made him shut his eyes and draw it. Placing his hand over Sam’s he guided him on the paper. Again and again, sheet after sheet, until at last he pulled his hand away. Their breathing in tandem, he watched Sam draw the sigil from his mind’s eye.

“Dean if you make me draw that thing one more time I’m going to carve it into your backside. With a blunt knife.” It was a lame attempt at levity, but under the circumstances all he could muster.

Dean leaned in, nipping Sam’s ear. “Why Sammy, you told me you worshipped this body.” Turning, he gave Sam a good view of said backside. “Come on, let’s get some air and check on the herbs.” Carefully locking everything up, they were soon up the stairs and making their way to the garden. Dean knew he was purposely putting things off. He still needed time to face what was yet to come. Taking a deep breath he let the clean fresh air fill his lungs.

Stalling was a favorite Dean tactic, one Sam was only to well aware of. It made him nervous, edgy. Nothing good ever came of stalling and Sam’s unease grew, multiplied. By the time they reached the walled kitchen garden with its beds of vegetables, fruits and herbs, Sam’s skin was crawling. Something was coming, something he just knew he wouldn’t want to hear. Catching Dean’s arm he made him stop. “Dean, whatever it is, just say it. Please.”

Leave it to Sam to get right to the heart of the matter. As much as it annoyed Dean, it was also one of the things he admired about him. Motioning towards the stone bench, they sat down. “Can’t a man get fresh air? I felt like I was suffocating, just wanted to feel the sunshine.” Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, trying to soak in what little warmth he could in the brisk September air. Several minutes later he looked over at Sam. “I’m sorry about this morning. I can only imagine how…I mean with what has to be done. We have so much to do, and all I can think about is you.” Glancing around, Dean slid his hand next to Sam’s, not holding it, but ensuring they were touching.

As Sam started to speak, Dean waved him off. “I’m too tired to argue, I’m not going to try and change your mind. I understand Sam, I don‘t like it, but I understand. I couldn’t live without you, especially after…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “I promise I won’t do anything to try and stop you. But you have to make me a promise, too. If something goes wrong, you have to do whatever you can to destroy him. No matter how long it takes.”

No wonder Dean was agitated. He was probably terrified of being possessed. It would drive Dean insane, his whole life was dedicated to protecting human life and Sam could think of nothing worse than Dean watching in impotent rage as his body was used to wreak havoc and carnage on all he vowed to protect.

“I know I’m new to this... Hunting. But I promise, I won’t fail you. I won’t let him have you.” What the hell am I worried about Sam thought as he took a look around, ever mindful of witnesses. In two days it would all be over. He laid a hand on Dean’s neck urging him closer. Tilting his head he kissed Dean. If anyone saw, Sam didn’t give a damn.

Dean gave in to Sam’s kiss. It was so good, the sweet taste. Coming to his senses, he backed away. A quick check confirmed they were still alone. “We have to be careful. I won’t let your family name be ruined because of me.” To avoid temptation, Dean stood rubbing his neck. “Time to get back to work.” Entering the house, they started towards the basement. Seeing George, Dean asked Sam to wait.

“Lord Pembroke, a minute please.” Dean maneuvered the young lord so they were out of Sam’s earshot. The conversation only lasted a few minutes. Dean slipped the small box George gave him into his pocket. Shaking his hand and thanking him profusely, Dean walked back to Sam.

He saw the questioning look in hazel eyes. Asking Sam if he needed anything before they returned to the cellar, they were through the passage and on their way back to the books.

The Key of Solomon and the journals were again laid upon the table. Sitting down Dean waited, knowing Sam would be full of questions.

Sam’s stomach lurched, a chill rippled over him from head to foot, leaving an uncomfortable tingle in his scalp. Nerves. “Right. I suppose it’s time for me to learn how to summon a demon?” Looking at Dean, “have you ever…?”

“Yeah, I did once. My dad was with me. He wasn’t as powerful as Baliazar.” Dean remembered how scared he’d been. He knew Sam needed to hear the truth. “I kept worrying that I would do something wrong, even though my dad assured me everything would be alright. Once a demon has been summoned he has to come. That doesn’t mean he’ll come as soon as you call him. They like to make you wait.”

“And did he… say things…lie?”

Squeezing Sam’s hand, Dean shook his head. “They know things Sam. It’s like they can see into your head. They lie, they make promises. They offer you things they know you want. He told me I could have my mom back. When I didn’t take his offer he told me she was burning in Hell. Said I would be there with her when my time came. You can‘t listen to them, Sam.”

“But he won’t be saying them will he Dean? It will be you. He’s going to look like you, sound like you, know the things only you know.” Dean’s head shot up, eyes fixed on Sam. Only then did Sam realize the words were spoken aloud and not contained in his head as worried thoughts.

Grabbing Sam by the shoulders, Dean shook him, making him look at him. “Sammy, listen to me. We have to stop this. It’ll drive us insane. I know you can’t get it out of your head, neither can I. But we’re going to have to push it back into the furthest corner of our minds. Can you do that?”

Shaking Sam harder Dean leaned in close, his voice harsh and demanding. “I asked can you do that, Sammy?”

Leaning back in the chair, he broke Dean’s hold. “I try, believe me I do. You don’t have to worry, I won’t let you down.”

“Are you sure? If you can’t, let me know. It’s not like you can run to mummy and hide behind her skirts.”

Sam frowned, where had that come from? Surely Dean didn’t think that? “Dean?”

Standing, Dean started pacing directly behind Sam. “Don’t you ever think I get tired of hearing you whine. Lord Richards, poor little rich boy. As long as you wear the title nobody will stand up to you, tell you the truth.”

Turning in the chair to follow Dean’s movements Sam asked, “What’s this? Some kind of test? If it is its not funny.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Sam.” Dean waited a minute for Sam to relax. Leaning in close he bit into Sam’s ear drawing blood, laughing as Sam grabbed it. “You didn’t mind playing rough when you shoved me against the wall. I thought I would return the favor.”

Pushing back the chair, Sam stood staring at Dean, totally at a loss. “Okay Dean, lesson over.” Swiping at his stinging ear he glared at his still pacing partner.

Dean stopped. “Lesson’s not over till I say it’s over.” Shoving Sam into the wall his face mere inches from Sam’s. “I knew I was nothing more than a diversion for you. Something for you and your friends to laugh about. The stupid cowboy. I knew you never cared, but I played along. You didn’t really think I could love someone as pathetic as you did you? I knew you were useless.” Dean’s hands were around Sam’s throat, squeezing as hard as he could, trying to choke the life from him. “You’re sure as hell not worth dying for.” He spat out.

Something was wrong, very wrong. The angry agitated person trying to squeeze the life out of him wasn’t Dean. Twin spots of vivid color burned on Dean’s cheeks and his eyes were fever bright. Frantic scratching at the door gave Sam the element of surprise needed to break free and turn the tables. Twisting one arm forcefully and no doubt painfully up Dean’s back, Sam pushed him into the wall. A thud of head hitting stone was ignored, as were the threats and bad language. Leaning his entire weight against Dean he grabbed for the amulet. The leather cord came away minus the bronze horned amulet.

Dean felt the air leave his lungs as Sam shoved him hard against the wall. His head was pounding, his heart racing. “God, help me.” He cried out as he tried to free himself from Sam’s hold. With one arm loose he was able to grab his head. Pressing his palm into his forehead he knew he was babbling. “Get out of my head.” Shaking it violently from side to side, he pleaded, begging. “Sammy, help me!”

“Dean fight him, you’ve got to fight him.” Sam’s weight was the only thing holding Dean up. His face was a mask of agony as he fought for control of his mind and body. Fumbling with his free hand Sam pulled the hip flask from his pocket using his teeth to open the top. Holy water splashed onto his hand dripping from his fingers. Inspiration flashed keen and bright, with a wet finger he drew a cross on Dean’s forehead. The reaction was instantaneous, Dean screamed, body twitching and then he went completely limp.

Dean heard Sam’s voice telling him to fight. It sounded like he was in a tunnel or cave. He wasn’t sure, couldn’t remember. Had he fallen? He knew he was pinned against a wall, but where? It was dark and dank, he felt a chill down his spine. He wasn’t alone. Whatever was here was evil. He tried calling out, but the scream caught in his throat. Struggling he tried to free his body. He felt something cold on his forehead which abruptly turned to fire, then nothing but release as he let his body go.

The terrible scratching and howling beyond the door ceased, everything was deathly quiet. Gently Sam lowered Dean to the ground. His training kicking in as he ran a quick visual and physical check, breathing and pulse were a bit quick and his color was still high as was his temperature. Carefully as possible he pulled Dean up so he could heft him over his shoulder. Staggering a little under the weight he unlatched the door. Two anxious hounds darted forward, sniffing his legs then licking at Dean’s dangling hands as they swung slightly from side to side. “Good dogs,” Sam soothed the worried pair; their normally wagging tails were tucked between their legs. “Come on; let’s take Dean for a lie down.”

Thankfully only George seemed to have taken any notice of the howling. His friend was visibly shaking when he saw the four of them. “Sam they didn’t do this did they?” George looked from the unconscious Dean to the two slinking hounds.

“No. No they didn’t. George I have to get Dean settled then I need you to sit with him whilst the dogs and I go hunting. Give me ten minutes then I’ll explain everything.” Not waiting for a reply Sam continued to their apartments. He was grateful George hadn’t offered to help carry Dean, refusing would have been awkward. But he would have, he didn’t want anyone touching him, not even his friend.

Almost as an afterthought he called out, asking George to lock the cellar door and bring the key when he came up.

Sam was slightly out of breath and his legs were burning by the time he laid Dean on the bed in his room. Covers stripped back he carefully removed Dean’s boots and everything else save his underwear, tucking the covers snugly around the now shivering body. Leaning forward he kissed Dean’s forehead then cupped his face, he was still too hot, his thumb rubbed over the high cheekbone, soothing. Dean’s eyes were moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, shaking him and saying his name didn’t wake him.

Two heavy heads lay on Sam’s thigh, needy whines and soulful eyes flitted from Sam to Dean and back again, lingering on the sleeping man. Stroking the two fine heads Sam offered reassurances, not sure if they were for him or the dogs. “He’ll be fine in a while, he just needs to sleep. Then he’ll be right as rain you’ll see.”

George popped his head round the door. “May I come in?”

“Please. George can you sit with Dean for a while? There’s something I need to find. Dean should sleep for a while. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Nearly at the door he called the dogs and told George to lock the door after him.

Two reluctant hounds followed Sam out of the house, pulling the leather cord from his pocket he offered it to Samson, then Delilah. He knew the pair hunted by scent so there was a slim chance that if he followed the path they had taken earlier they just might find it. If the amulet fell off in the house they would have heard it hit the stone or wooden floors which left only the bed or garden. As Dean changed in the cellar, Sam thought it likely the protective amulet was lost somewhere outside.

Noses inches from the ground, tails high, the pair seemed engrossed in the search. Sam’s eyes were glued to the ground, sweeping from side to side as he searched.

Suddenly from up ahead came the sound of shouting and cursing. Running through a brick and rose covered arch, Sam spotted a gardener, one hand jammed under his armpit cursing madly.

Seeing Sam the cursing gardener immediately stopped. Hurriedly explaining that he bent to pick up what he thought was a dropped item of jewelry only to have it burn his hand the moment he touched it. Poking the offending item with his boot he stuck his burnt fingers in his mouth, nosily sucking at them.

“I think you better go into the house and let Rose take a look your burnt fingers, you can never be too careful.”

Waiting till the gardener was out of sight Sam bent, pushing the grass aside, there sat the ugly horned amulet. Cautiously he poked at it with a finger. Nothing happened. No flair of pain, no burnt finger, he picked it up, ready to drop it should it feel even remotely hot. Nothing. Well that was certainly strange. Closing his fist tightly, Sam ran through the garden, through the hall, and up the stairs pausing only when he remembered George locked Dean’s door.

Dean was as he left him, face still flushed, pulse beating rapidly beneath the sweat dampened skin of his neck. Thanking George and promising to tell him what happened the moment Dean woke up, Sam ushered his friend out the door. Rushing to the bed Sam threaded the cord through the amulet, knotting it tightly before lifting Dean and slipping the amulet over his head, laying it back where it belonged, against Dean’s chest.

Pulling up a chair Sam picked up Dean’s hand. This was an uncomfortable reminder of his vigil after the tornado. Dean silently sleeping and Sam worried and scared. Pressing his lips to the back of the sweating hand he began to talk. The dogs settling at his feet in a silent canine vigil

Holding Dean’s hand, Sam fell into a light doze. Over and over what took place in the cellar re-enacted itself behind his closed lids. Neither was prepared for what happened. At the time Sam wasn’t scared. No. That came later as he waited for Dean to wake up. What scared him most was not Baliazar taking control of Dean, but rather the effect it would have on him. Dean had issues, Sam knew better than anyone the deep seated fears and feelings of inadequacy his lover tried so hard to conceal.

The hot hand he held was jerked away, Dean gasping as he backed up against the headboard, his eyes closing, shutting Sam out. Not this time Dean! “How do you feel?” Brushing his fingers against Dean’s forehead it still felt very hot. “Dean, open your eyes please, I need to check you out, you feel a bit hot.”

Dean was fighting, trying to pull himself from the nightmare. If only he could wake up. He’d never hurt Sam, but yet he had. He’d been cruel, he’d drawn blood, worst of all he‘d tried to kill Sam with his bare hands. The words, the doubts hidden in the back of his mind were pulled viciously from him by the claws that invaded his head. With a gasp, Dean sat up. Sweating and panting he was back in his room. He pulled his hand from Sam’s, startling him in the process. Taking deep breaths he tried to calm himself. His heart no longer felt as though it would burst through his chest. He saw the concerned look on Sam’s face. Leaning back against the headboard, Dean closed his eyes. After what he had done he was too ashamed to face Sam.

“I’ll be fine Sam. Give me a little time.” Not opening his eyes, Dean tried to take the coward’s way out. “You don’t need to wait.”

“There is nothing more important than taking care of you. I’m going to sit here and we will talk. And by we, I mean both of us. So talk! I want to know what happened. All of it, not the Dean Winchester edited version. Don’t even think of lying to me.” Sitting back in the chair he folded his arms and waited.

Slowly opening his eyes they immediately went to Sam’s throat. It was still red and Dean saw the start of the bruise where his thumbs pressed tightly against Sam’s delicate skin.

Delilah jumped on the bed laying next to Dean she rested her head on his thigh. Petting her gave Dean the excuse he needed to avoid Sam’s questioning gaze.

“I’m sorry Sam. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was talking to you and then everything went black. I was trapped, couldn’t move, couldn‘t speak. That’s when I felt it. He was in my head. I don’t know how it was possible. I thought we were supposed to be safe.”

Sampson’s heavy head landed on Sam’s thigh, sad eyes flicking from Sam to Dean and back again. I know you’re worried boy; I am too he thought as he stroked the broad head. “You were safe till the cord on the amulet broke; it fell off in the garden.”

Dean’s hand flew to his chest, his thumb running over the now familiar piece. What happened in the garden? It must have been when Sam kissed him. How could he have been so stupid to not realize it was no longer there? All he thought about at the time was how good it was; Sam’s lip pressed to his, wanting him. Sam willing to risk so much for him. Looking up he met Sam’s eyes, there was no hate, just concern. “I’m sorry.”

“Listen to me, it wasn’t you.” Seeing the bowed head he tried again. “Dean, he was in control, not you. It was his words, his actions, not yours. There is nothing to forgive.”

“It was my hands around your throat. I’m the one who would have killed you. I should have been stronger, I let him into my head, didn’t fight hard enough. It was my fault.”

“Let’s get this straight shall we?” Sam watched Dean’s head snap up. “You invited him in, allowed him to use your voice, your body at will? You wanted him to do the things he did? You just let him take over, watched idly as he tried to strangle me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Dean knew it was a mistake the minute he shook his head. He couldn’t put into words how it felt. The pain, the confusion. “No. I don’t know, everything was twisted.” Dean never heard of a demon influencing someone without possessing them. If this were any indication of the power Baliazar held now, he could only imagine him unleashed.

Baliazar taunted him, telling him Sam would be the first to die by his hands, slowly and as painful as possible. Images flooded his mind, Sam bloody and begging to die, to be put out of his misery. He felt his descent into madness as he was forced to watch everyone he ever cared for meet similar fates. He felt their blood as it ran down his hands, as it splashed his face. Their screams still rang in his head.

“Talk to me Dean. Please?” There was more, Sam was certain, would put money on it. Evasive was Dean’s middle name. Sam’s was persistent, and he was not about to give up.

“What I saw while he was in my head, it was horrible. The things he’s capable of doing. He made me watch you die. Not just you, but everybody. Shamus was right. Baliazar plans to destroy anything and everything that crosses his path. Nothing will be left.”

Sam let the soft warm ear slide through his fingers, the almost unconscious stroking calming, soothing frayed nerves. “My visions are sort of like that. You have to remember demons lie, they deceive. I won’t let him keep you I promise.”

Throwing the covers back, Dean slid his legs over till he felt the floor beneath his feet. “We’re not going to stop him if we stay here. We still have to go over the ritual.” Not ready to stand, Dean reached over, his fingers lightly brushing over the bruises marring Sam’s throat, surprised when Sam didn’t flinch or back away. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Dean still looked a little flushed, not his usual self, but there was no point arguing. Dean was right they were running out of time.

***********

Looking around Dean spotted his clothes. Sam retrieved the bundle, hovering close as he dressed. Still a bit unsteady it took a little longer than Dean expected. On shaky legs he leaned into Sam, for once not arguing he took the offered help. Gradually they started their slow descent to the basement, stopping several times before reaching their destination. Dean shuddered as they stepped through the doorway, his hand going to his chest to reassure himself the amulet was there. Picking up the Key of Solomon he turned it to the page he marked earlier. Sliding the book over so it was between the two of them, he pointed out a small passage to Sam. “You need to memorize this, you have to recite this while you summon Baliazar.”

Sam leant over the table, his finger underlining the words as he read. “Baliazar who art wicked and disobedient. Thou has not obeyed the glorious Name of the true God, the Creator of all things, thou shalt forthwith appear in this triangle, before this circle, to do my will. Come quickly and in peace.” He looked at Dean as he finished the first part, saw the closed off look once again firmly in place. Dean was not coping any better than he was.

It took a few moments before Dean realized Sam was watching him. The worried look asking the silent question. Running his hand through his short hair, Dean gave Sam a weak smile. “I’m fine. Again, till you know it by heart.” Dean listened as Sam read it over and over. When Sam nodded he was ready, Dean handed him a sheet of paper. “Can you remember the sigil?”

Normally Sam loved research, all aspects of it. Reading ancient scripts, even modern notes scrawled in Dean’s journal. This time however he had absolutely no enthusiasm what so ever for the task in front of him. Dutifully he reproduced the sigil and recited the first part of the summoning. When he finished he paused staring at his handiwork. That was the easy part. What was to come next, allowing Baliazar to possess Dean. Jesus, he didn’t even want to think about it, let alone stand idly by and let it happen. Closing his eyes, Sam took a steadying breath. He knew they had to practice; trouble is all he wanted to do was run, take Dean with him and get as far away as possible.

Dean would be with Sam at The Stones as they prepared for the ritual. Confident Sam would be ready for the summoning, the only thing left now was the part they dreaded the most. Clenching his fist, Dean could only hope Sam didn’t see his hand visibly shaking. The thought of removing the amulet and letting Baliazar take over his body and mind terrified him. After what happened earlier, he tried to draw on all his experience from almost a lifetime of hunting. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, grabbing Sam’s hand squeezing tight. Trying to draw in and give back as much strength as possible.

Sam was so lost in thought he jumped, snapping at Dean when his hand was touched “What!”

Startled by Sam’s reaction, Dean flinched. Realizing he was still holding his breath he let it out slowly. His nerves were shot, but there was no getting around what was to come. Wishing, hoping, and pretending wasn’t going to make it go away. He saw the pain and anguish in Sam’s hazel eyes, telling him Sam knew what the next step was. Sam’s grip tightened around his hand, neither wanting to break the precious hold. Pulling out the knife he pried his hand away. “Here Sam, take it.” Extending the handle out he waited.

“Dean I don’t…” Sam’s hand stopped inches from the knife, eyes locked on the crème carved handle. Sam didn’t want to touch it, let alone practice what in just a few short hours he would have to do for real. Telling himself it was only a trial run made no difference. Sam’s stomach clenched and his breath locked in his chest. What the hell was he doing? Dean was relying on him and he couldn’t bring himself to touch the damn knife. Sam forced himself to grasp the handle, the instant his hand came into contact with the cold ivory, Sam started to panic, wanted to let go. I can’t do this, warring with you have to, you have no choice. “Dean?” A breathless plea for help. Two anxious pairs of eyes met mirrored in each the emotions of the other.

Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s. They were in this together. Dean guided their shaking hands as they brought the point of the knife to the lower left side of Dean’s chest. Even though his voice wavered, Dean never took his eyes off Sam’s. “You need to go in through the ribs, thrust up and in. It’ll be over in minutes.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, himself or Sam. “I’ll be right there with you.”

They stayed there, eyes locked on one another. Each struggling with their feelings. As Dean started to falter, Sam reached out his free hand, grabbing his elbow to steady him.

Looking down, Dean saw his white knuckled grasp of their hands still tight on the knife.Loosening his hold, he waited for Sam, his hand still clamped to the hilt. “Sam, you can let go now.” Dean tried to reassure Sam with a gentle voice. Taking back the knife, he returned it to its sheath. They were both still visibly shaken. Sam was white as a ghost, Dean could only imagine what he looked like after what they had just done. Deciding it would be for the best, Dean motioned for Sam to take a seat, then sat down beside him. Returning to the Key of Solomon, Dean showed Sam the last passage needed to complete the ritual. It was imperative Sam memorize it. Dean wouldn’t be there to help.

Reading the final passage Sam realized he would need to make notes. This was too important to trust to memory, especially one that would be under a great deal of stress at the time. Carefully Sam copied the two parts of the summoning and binding curse onto separate pieces of paper. All the while trying to shut out what would be happening as he recited the final words. Dean would be dead or dying. Finally finished, Sam folded the papers and tucked them safely into a pocket. All this was hard, so damn hard on them both.

Tags: angst, historical romance, horror, nc-17, slash
Current Music: ERA, THE MASS

A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.


HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/13/
CHAPTER 4 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/27/
CHAPTER 5 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/6974.html

WARNING- CHAPTER 6: Some readers may find the contents of this chapter disturbing. Emotions run very high and we ask you to keep an open mind. It is not our intent to put our beloved characters in a bad light. Even so we will post a DUB/CON WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. Very much top sam in this chapter!

PS Our poor beta has not checked this chapter so all mistakes are ours alone
CHAPTER 6 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/02/
CHAPTER 7 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/7555.html
CHAPTER 8 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/17/
CHAPTER 9 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/8151.html
CHAPTER 10 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/08/17/
Chapter 11

Honore Et Amore Chapter 11

Carefully balancing the tray against his knee, Sam opened the door. As quietly as possible he set the tray on the small table, glancing at Dean. He had not changed position. Sitting on the edge of the bed he ran his fingers through the short blond hair. It was not often Sam could observe Dean in sleep. Like himself, the awful situation they found themselves in was taking its toll. Leaning down he pressed his lips to his temple. “Morning sleepy head.” He whispered close to Dean’s ear.

Feeling warm breath against his ear sent a shiver through Dean before Sam’s words penetrated his still tired mind. Slowly he blinked his eyes before opening. His first sight was Sam smiling down on him. Rolling his head from side to side he worked the kink out of his neck. The smell of coffee assaulted him. Sitting up, he stretched out his arms,
before cupping Sam’s cheek in his hand. “Morning Sammy.” He said, hearing his voice still rough from sleep.

Fetching the tray Sam set it on the bed in-between them. “About last night… Sorry... I… I didn’t … Dean, I have to find a way out for us and last night seemed such a waste of time. I made this to say I’m sorry.” Sam indicated the full English breakfast.

Dean coughed, trying to clear his throat around the piece of bacon he was chewing. “I told you before there’s nothing to apologize for.” Pouring them both coffees, he took a drink, not bothering to cool it first. Dean filled a plate handing it to Sam before filling his own, his appetite suddenly gone. Forcing himself to eat, they managed to laugh and talk about the ball.

“You going to join me in the cellar or have you found another lead?” Sam left the bed to let the dogs in.

The dogs running in were a welcome but only a momentary distraction. Dean dreaded this, but knew he couldn’t hide forever. “Give me a few minutes and we’ll go to the cellar.” Dean called to Sam as he was getting dressed. “Can you bring the Key of Solomon with you?”

Sam frowned, “why do you need the Key of Solomon?”

“Please Sam, it needs to wait till we’re in the cellar.” With a heavy heart Dean waited as Sam grabbed the book. Taking the tray they dropped it in the kitchen before heading to the secret passage. Leaning down he told the dogs to stay. Climbing down the stairs, he slowly unlocked the door. “Sit down Sam, I have something to tell you.”

Unlocking the casket Dean pulled out the ancient ledger. “This is a history of the Brotherhood of St. Michael. They claim they do the bidding of the Arch Angel Michael. As you know Michael was the angel in the vision from James. What we didn’t know was that Baliazar was an angel as well. According to this, God gave Baliazar a list of men, those most faithful and deserving to be resurrected on their death. Instead of doing that, Baliazar used his power to resurrect ones he thought were deserving. When he was commanded to return to heaven to answer to God, he refused. God sent Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel like bounty hunters after him. In order to escape, Baliazar went to Lucifer where he asked for sanctuary. Lucifer offered him the same job in Hell. All he had to do was renounce God. Baliazar accepted. He became a fallen angel, a demon. We’re talking necromancy here Sam, evil and chaos.” Stopping for a moment, Dean searched Sam’s face seeing him taking in everything he said.

“Somehow Baliazar managed to avoid the angels by constantly possessing men. The vision you saw at The Stones, the ancient one, was the first time Baliazar was trapped. The Stones are said to have magical powers, a portal or prison where he could be held. As long as the altar stone was intact, he couldn’t escape. Once the altar stone was crushed by the collapse of the trillithon, Baliazar escaped. For a millenium he caused havoc until Michael tracked him down at The Stones. He offered him a chance to redeem himself and he refused. With the altar destroyed he couldn’t be held forever. Michael did the only thing he could. He cast him in the abyss for fifty generations. That’s where the Brotherhood comes into it.”

“Where did you find it? It couldn’t have been in the casket because I would have seen it. And… and whose is it?” Sam’s mind was racing with possibilities this was it, this was what he had been searching for.

“It had to be in the casket. I found it while you were helping George. I was frustrated and knocked everything into the floor. It was there when I picked up the books.” Dean dreaded what he was about to reveal next. “I moved it until I could check the Key of Solomon so I could explain it to you.”

Sam eyes drifted from Dean’s face to the ledger then back again. “Why would you do that? I don’t understand… you knew I would want to see it.”

“There was still more we needed. I had to make sure before I told you. There was still a part missing. Do you remember the scroll you found our first time here? The one you set aside to translate? It’s the third part. It’s too important for everything to be kept together in one place, if it fell into the wrong hands, well I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Yes, I remember the scroll, but I haven’t had the time to translate it. George was being unusually annoying and then the ball. If the scroll is one part and the Key of Solomon is another that still leaves one more part and its not the journal.” Sam looked pointedly at Dean, a nasty seed of doubt and fear growing in the pit of his stomach. “Is it Dean?”

“I translated the scroll while you were with George. Do you understand, Sam? We have the history, the summoning has been under our noses the whole time in The Key of Solomon, and the scroll has the sigil. Now we know how to summon him, all we have to do is the ritual.” Tightening his hold on the ledger, Dean saw that look on Sam’s face. There was no escape.

Sam felt the prickling sensation of goose flesh break out all over his body. He shivered. Dean’s body language reeked of anxiety and if he were not mistaken fear. Sam’s heart beat faster and his breaths came in short shallow open mouthed gasps. If Dean was scared…“Dean? Please… tell me?”

Unable to look Sam in the eye, Dean reluctantly handed Sam the ledger knowing what he would find inside. “Sammy, please. I didn’t want you to know until I was sure.” It was a poor excuse for an apology, but it was all he had.

Sam began to read the ancient ledger. The first entry was dated September 870 A.D. a thousand years ago. Followed by two names, Wolfgar and William. Sam read page after page of similar entries. When he reached the end he turned back the pages counting the entries. Two hundred and forty nine total. Two hundred and forty nine times the Guardians and Seers had gone up against Baliazar and lost. Four hundred and ninety eight men lost their lives. Thinking back over what Dean said about St Michael, Sam realized that he and Dean were the last Generation. They were the final Guardian and Seer. The final defense.

“It ends with us, doesn’t it Dean?” Sam noticed Dean was fidgeting, he only did that when he was nervous. “We never had a chance did we? All the hours of research to find a way out. You knew, didn’t you?” He saw Dean flinch, all color draining from his face. “You knew it was a waste of time. Yet still you let me continue to hope, to have faith. Why Dean? Why would you do that to me? You used George didn’t you, to keep me busy? You had no right to keep this from me. I trusted you Dean, and you lied to me!”

“Yes, it ends with us. I didn’t know until I put all the pieces together. I’m not your Guardian Sam, I’m his. Don’t you see? That’s why they all failed, they lost their faith. You’ve lost that and I understand, I do. But I have faith in you. We have to complete the ritual. Do you understand what happens if we fail? I won’t let that happen. You can’t let that happen. Four hundred and ninety eight men have died, but how many others died that we don’t know about? How many more like your parents, and Robert and others from the Brotherhood?” Dean sat on the edge of the table looking down at Sam. “I didn’t lie to you; I was going to tell you. And you’re right, it was wrong for me to use George. When I’m gone, you can have your old life back. It’ll be over, you’ll be free. That’s why I didn’t tell you before the ball. Those are the people that you belong with. They care about you. You and your children will be able to leave your legacy worthy of your family name. I could never give you that.”

Sam heard everything Dean said, but he couldn’t take it in. Couldn’t believe Dean would say this to him. After all they had been through and all they had left to face. Rage welled up in him and before he knew what was happening he had Dean pinned against the cellar wall. Fist drawn back. He wanted to hit Dean, hurt him as much as he was hurting. He was going to hit him; his fist was clenched, poised to strike, at the last moment hitting the wall instead. It was Dean’s eyes that stopped him, the love and self loathing he saw there deflecting his anger. How could he hurt Dean more then the man could do himself? He couldn’t. Dean would punish himself far more efficiently than he ever could.

“Dammit Dean. I love you, but there are times I really don’t like you. Please keep out of my way.” Closing the heavy door behind him, Sam attempted to swallow the huge lump in his throat. Failing miserably he sagged against the solidity of the oak door. Sliding down till he sat with his arms wrapped around his legs chin resting on his knees.

Dean waited for the punch, relished the thought of it. It’s what he wanted. Let Sam hit him over and over. Beat him senseless. Physical pain was easy. It was the pain inside he couldn’t deal with. It was the pain he saw in Sam’s eyes, in Sam’s face that was hard. Instead Sam hit the wall, hurt himself. Dean wasn’t prepared for the restraint, the calm that fell over Sam. He could still hear Sam outside the door, the massive piece of oak separating them. With his back to the door he slid down, bringing his knees to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them resting his head on his arms.

Sam let his head fall back with a satisfying thud. “Damn you Dean, why do you always do this? You can’t hide the truth forever and trying only leads to heartache and upset.” Sam didn’t expect an answer. He was aware Dean would know he was here just outside the door. There were no tell tale footsteps to indicate otherwise.

There was no anger in Sam’s voice, the hurt in Sam’s eyes when he said those cruel things kept haunting Dean. He didn’t mean them, but if he could make Sam hate him, maybe Sam could see the truth in them. See that he was better off without Dean. If Sam hated him maybe he would realize there was something to live for. Leaning his head against the door Dean replied. “I was going to tell you. I wanted to give you the time with your friends. You deserved that.”

“See, that’s what I mean, what gives you the right to decide what’s right or what’s best for me? Didn’t you learn your lesson back in Kansas? You deciding nearly cost us both our lives. Why should I feel any differently than you, remember the letter Dean? I do.”

“Didn’t you do the same thing? How long would you have waited to tell me about the vision? You lied to me and for days, I watched it eat at you, almost destroy you. Sam, you’re all I have, but you have so much more. You have something to live for.” Dean needed Sam to understand.

“That’s not fair and you damn well know it. You saw that vision. You know what I have to do, why I didn’t tell you straight away. How can you compare that to giving me false hope?”

“Look what I had to do to see that vision. I know what you have to do, what we have to do. Now you understand what happens if we fail. I would rather be dead than let that happen. There can be no doubts, no hesitation.”

“You don’t have to worry… I’ll do it… Finish the Brotherhood’s dirty work for them.”

“I do worry. I can’t stop thinking about what you’re going to do after. Once it’s over. And damn the Brotherhood to Hell for what they did to our parents. Taking advantage of them, the price they paid for us. The price we have to pay. Sam, if you die they win. They or someone like them will find another cause, do this to someone else. You can’t let that happen.”

“You are such a hypocrite Dean...You forget one thing…I know you… I know what this is all about. You think you can manipulate me. Well you’re wrong. There is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind… So stop it!”

“You’re wrong Sam.” Turning to his side, Dean placed his palm against the door, wanting to touch Sam, to take in the strength he always gave. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. Yes I’m a hypocrite for wanting you to live. But I don’t want us to fail because of me. I don’t…I’ll be the one to hesitate because I know what that means.”

“I won’t fail you Dean… I promise…” Sam crossed his heart and laid his palm against the door. “I won’t let him have you.” He whispered.

Dean wiped away the lone tear. “I’m sorry Sammy. I told you before, life with me wouldn’t be easy and you would regret it.”

“I’m sorry about a lot of things Dean, but my time with you isn’t one of them. You’re right, its not been easy, but I wouldn’t trade the short time we’ve had together for anything.” Standing up he opened the door, Dean was sat on the floor in much the same position as he had previously been. “It’s safe to come out now.” He smiled as he held out his hand to help Dean up.

Taking the proffered hand, Dean let Sam pull him to his feet. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to the kitchen. You can go get changed we’re going riding.” Sam grinned as he shoved Dean in the direction of the stairs. “I won’t be long.”

Latching onto the doorframe Dean stopped Sam’s momentum. “We have research to do.” Nodding his head at the books and scrolls still scattered on the table.

Sam peered past Dean into the musty old cellar, the books and old papers would still be there when they got back. “No, we don’t.” Tugging on the lapel of Dean’s jacket he pulled him close. Whispered in Dean’s ear. “I have research of a different kind in mind. And I promise you will enjoy it.”

Raising his brow, Dean smiled at Sam. “Promise, huh? Give me a minute to lock these up.” Quickly gathering the books and scrolls, Dean locked them in the casket. Locking the door behind them, Dean let Sam drag him up the stairs.

In the hall Sam pushed Dean in the direction of the apartment with the instructions to change into something comfortable. At Dean’s frown Sam relented, “Go on then, get my jeans out as well.” Dean’s face lit up then he was bounding up the stairs two at a time.

Sam went to the kitchen and after a few words with Rose he ran up to join Dean and change.

By the time Sam entered the room, Dean was putting on his boots, his favorite jeans already on. Sam undressed as Dean searched his steamer. Finding Sam’s jeans he tossed them over. Changing his jacket Dean glanced over. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, indicating their attire. “You are the Earl of Somerset.”

“We only have a few days left, let’s not spend them worrying what others think. I want this time with you to be about us. No one else. So if we want to go out dressed in jeans and Stetsons, we damn well will.” Dressed all in black Dean looked stunning. “Hey you forgot something didn’t you?”

“What’s that Sammy?” Dean called out over his shoulder. Turning around Dean smiled. Holding his holster, he pulled out his colt. Opening the gate he spun the cylinder checking to make sure it was loaded. Satisfied, he buckled the holster around his waist, feeling like he was completely dressed for the first time in ages.

Sam knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it. Dean oozed sex and Sam wanted him. Wanted him badly enough to think about canceling his plans. No, he would wait it would be worth it. “I don’t suppose you brought mine…” He asked as he pulled on the shorter boots.

“Course I did.” A fast check of Sam’s colt and Dean was dropping holster and gun onto the bed. Doing a once over, he gave Sam an appreciative nod of his head. “I told you once, I would follow you anywhere.”

“You get the horses and I’ll get the rest. Meet you out front.” Stepping behind him, Sam slid his hands round Dean’s waist letting them rest against the silver buckle. He mouthed one earlobe, tongue flicking out tasting. “Don’t be long.”

A shiver of desire flooded his body as Sam held him close. The warm breath and tongue against his ear, Sam‘s promise. Not wasting any time Dean was out the door and down the stairs. He was well aware of everyone looking at him, staring with their mouths open, pointing and whispering. Dean grinned at the shocked look on George’s face as he took in his attire. He could imagine everyone’s reaction when Lord Richards walked through the doors. The grooms saddled the familiar bay and the grey, and with a sharp whistle, George’s hounds came running.

Picking up the Stetson, Sam followed aware of the curious glances and whispers his attire caused. “Morning Countess, George.” He called in greeting as he sped past heading for the kitchen.

Rose had done him proud. Two large leather satchels were filled and a large picnic rug was waiting for him.

“Go careful with this one, there’s a bottle and glasses.” Her rosy cheeks glowed, “enjoy yourselves.” Bending down she retrieved a brown paper wrapped package neatly tied with string. “Oh I nearly forgot, this is for Samson and Delilah.” Seeing the frown on his lordships face, “The hounds.”

“Ahh! Thank you Rose.” Slinging the bags over his shoulder and taking the rug and package, Sam waited outside for Dean.

Samson and Delilah? Sam laughed only George would name his dogs like that.

Sam was waiting in front of the stately manner by the time Dean rode up. Dividing the bounty between the two, Dean couldn’t resist, “Are you sure you brought enough?” At the shake of Sam’s head and a laugh, they were soon making their way down the long private road leaving the estate.

Cutting through the market square, past the old church and graveyard, they turned into North Street and then into Castle Lane. Before them stretched the beautiful meadows, huge willows lined the banks of the river. The hedges that divided the fields were full of wild blackberries, and the scent of late flowering wild roses filled the air

The two hounds bounded ahead through the long grass, ears flapping, tails held high. Crossing an open wooden bridge, if Sam remembered correctly, there was a delightful spot a couple of miles upstream where the river widened and became shallow enough to cross.

“George and I came here when we were boys; we brought a huge pack lunch and our fishing rods. We didn’t catch anything, probably because we were too noisy, but we did have a great time.” Sam hoped a little time spent away from books, over-eager friends, and research might lighten their mood. They were running out of time and the last thing he wanted was to spend their remaining time together at odds with one another.

Sam pointed out the various sites as they passed. His enthusiasm still amazed Dean, sometimes childlike in his wonder of the world around them. It was one of the things that drew Dean to him in the first place. The contrast between the two of them, where he saw light and darkness, good and evil, Sam still looked with both eyes open full of awe.

Dean wished he brought his pad so he could sketch some of the beautiful countryside. The meadows were still abloom with late flowering plants. Signs of the small wildlife that called the meadows home were everywhere. Small burrows covered the ground around them keeping them to old worn roads and pathways. The sounds of nature surrounded them. The trill of birds calling their mates. The fresh county air and the warm sunshine were refreshing after the cool dark cellar. Dean drank in everything around him.

Listening intently to Sam reminisce, he hung on to each word, played them through his mind. Imagined his childhood had been one filled with joy and laughter. Not all times with his dad were filled with the hunt. They too had fished and hunted, not for the pleasure of it like Sam, but some pleasant memories still lingered. He eagerly shared them now so they wouldn’t be lost.

Reaching the group of four willows Sam pointed out the collapsed river bank where they could cross to the other side. “See that?” He nodded his head at the knotted rope hanging from a branch. “George and I used to swing out over the river on that and yes we did fall off. Wonder if it’s strong enough to take our weight?” Once over the river, they dismounted and removed the tack. This side of the river was well fenced and the horses could graze in safety.

Spreading out the picnic rug, Sam tossed Dean the brown paper parcel; he couldn’t help grinning at the names written in neat script on the front.

Dean watched Sam spread the rug with his usual finesse. Catching the parcel he smiled. “Samson and Delilah, huh. What a pair.” Unwrapping the paper he called them by name for the first time. Wasting no time they surrounded Dean, waiting anxiously for the bones he held. With a short toss they were on them before they hit the ground.

Grabbing the other satchel, Dean handed it to Sam before sitting on the rug, just taking in everything around him. Fresh baked bread, several different cheeses, pickles, apples, and salad vegetables came from Dean’s bag.

Opening his, Sam held up a heavy thick glassed bottle. “Remember this?” He held out the champagne bottle for Dean to open.

Remember it. It was something Dean would never forget. Sometimes it seemed so long ago, that day by the lake. Dean pointed the bottle away from them before working the cork loose, letting it pop, watching it land a few feet away. This time he was ready for the fizz and the bubbles. “I know you don’t need Dutch courage now Sammy.” He handed the bottle back to Sam.

Fishing out two glasses he handed one to Dean, filling them both with the golden bubbling liquid, clinking the two glasses together. “To love and faith.” The look in Dean’s eyes said more than words ever could. Sam could only hope that all he felt was also clear for Dean to see. Downing the glass in one, he pulled fresh wild berries and cream from the bottom of the bag laying them carefully next to a couple of plates and the cutlery.

What else did they have? Dean knew how much Sam loved him, he showed it with everything he did. He knew what Sam was willing to do for him, what Sam was going to do. They weren’t here to dwell on that. It wasn’t much, but he could at least give him that gift today. “Come on Sam, a man could starve waiting for you.”

With two healthy appetites the meal was soon eaten, all that remained were the berries. Plucking one of the larger strawberries and dragging it through the thick cream he offered it to Dean. Gasping as his hand was held, soft lips closing over his forefinger and thumb warm wet tongue snaking over the sensitive fingertips. His stomach tightened.

Knowing Sam’s fascination with his mouth, Dean continued to tease. Releasing Sam’s hand, he ran his tongue over his upper lip, first from one side to the middle and then the other, before doing the same with his bottom lip. He watched Sam swallow, saw the tip of Sam’s tongue as he drew his bottom lip in with his teeth. Grabbing a berry he mimicked Sam’s earlier action, dragging it through the cream before dropping it into Sam’s mouth, making sure to leave some of the cream on Sam’s lips.

Swallowing the sweet berry and not taking his eyes off of Dean even for a moment, Sam leant forward. Using his thumb he removed the cream before pressing it into the slightly parted lips to be sucked clean. Warm velvet softness engulfed his thumb, a slick tongue swirling round the pad. Intense green eyes locked with his the entire time, added to the erotic sensations curling in Sam’s stomach and groin. Wrapping a hand round the back of Dean’s neck he pulled him closer, “I want you Dean,” came out more of a predatory growl. As he lay back, the warm pliant body moved with him. Tangling his fingers into the soft blond hair he brought their mouths together, Dean as eager as he was

Dean tasted the champagne as it mingled with the cream and the berries as Sam‘s tongue probed his mouth. Large hands held him firmly in place. Surfacing for air, it was only moments before Sam’s mouth was back, his teeth tugging at Dean’s lip, his right hand started a slow slide from Dean’s neck, down his back pulling him even closer. Rolling to their sides, deft fingers worked between their bodies seeking out buttons, ghosting over flesh as each one gave way. Sam’s mouth moved against Dean’s jaw line slowly making its way to his throat leaving a trail of little kisses and warm breath. He could feel his shirt being pulled from his jeans, Sam’s warm hand sliding between flesh and fabric, moving up and down his body from shoulder to waist leaving a trail of goose-bumps everywhere it touched.

Rolling over, Sam straddled Dean’s hips. Pausing for a few moments he stared in wonder as the sight beneath him. Dean was perfect. He would never tire of looking at him, touching, tasting. Leaning down he captured an earlobe drawing it into his mouth nipping, “do you have any idea what you do to me?” Scooting back settling on hard thighs, Sam slowly licked and kissed Dean’s neck, tongue catching on the faint stubble over his Adams apple. Tongue lapping at the hollow between collar bones, down further over broad chest muscles. Blowing softly on dusky nipples watching them tighten, pebble, under his watchful gaze. Dean’s groan as his tongue flicked out touching, teasing, sucking first one then the other. Dean writhing under him, fingers digging into his back.

Sam knew all the right places, all the right touches, and still every time he touched Dean, it was like something new. Sam’s tongue left a trail of white heat as it slid over his skin. Pure pleasure burning into his flesh. He couldn’t get enough. Just anticipating what was to come was enough to consume him. Dean couldn’t help himself, moving his body trying to get closer. He couldn’t stop the noises that told Sam of his need and desire.

Nudging Dean’s legs apart Sam lay between them, slowly undoing the holster followed by the ornate silver belt buckle, now all that remained were the buttons on the front of the black jeans. Popping the first one Sam kissed the extra skin it revealed. Tongue following the fine trail of blond hair downwards as each successive button was popped. Jesus! Dean was naked underneath, his cock springing free from the confines of the too tight denim. Dean was propped up on his elbows watching, smoldering green met hazel, “I see you came prepared?” He chuckled, “Can you lift up for me?” Sam tugged the denim down, at the last moment realizing that he needed to remove the ornate boots.

Undoing a couple of his top buttons Sam reached a hand to the neck and pulled his shirt over his head, Dean watching his every move. Taking off the boots, Sam stood up and unbuckled the holster, dropping it to join the pile of discarded clothes. Legs slightly parted, the belt was the next casualty pulled slowly from the loops. It too joined the mound. Searing gazes locked as each button was popped. Sam smiled as it was revealed that he too was prepared. Kicking the heavy weight denim free he stood waiting, watching. Looking down at Dean through the long hair falling across his face he asked. “See anything you like?”

Dean took in the sight of Sam standing tall and naked over him. Gone was the shy, unsure young man of months past, Sam was a strong and confident lover. Once he tasted Sam, Dean knew he would always hunger for more, he would never get his fill. With a growl, he reached up grabbing Sam’s hand pulling him down next to him. Shifting slightly his mouth covered Sam’s, forcing his tongue into the warm cavern. He savored the taste. He was addicted to that mouth, each kiss left him craving more, and oh, god what it could do to his body. Kissing deeper he swallowed the moans as they tried to leave Sam’s throat.

Coming up for air, Dean rolled over reveling in the feel of the hard body beneath him. The smooth skin of Sam’s jaw was a contrast from his own rough stubble. Dean continued to kiss and lick Sam’s exposed throat, marking him as he bit and sucked the smooth flesh. He could feel Sam’s shiver as it moved through his body. Their bodies flush Dean could feel the double beats of their hearts against his chest, hard muscle flexed beneath him and he didn’t know who was trying to get closer.

Scooting back Dean straddled Sam, he couldn’t take his eyes off Sam’s flushed face. In hazel eyes he saw lust and desire and love. Dean’s fingers brushed over the firm hot flesh of his lovers body. Trying to commit every inch of skin to memory.

Leaning down, he started to lick a path down Sam’s body. He could taste the salt as his tongue licked the sweat that ran down his skin. He could feel Sam squirm, hear him whimper. Holding Sam‘s narrow hips firmly in place, he waited for Sam to look at him. “Tell me what you want Sam.”

“Want to forget, help me, Dean."

Sam’s voice was broken, so raw with pain and emotion. “I’ll help you, Sammy.” Gently
Dean tried to reassure him. “Now tell me what you want.”

“You Dean. I want you.”

Pulling himself back up covering Sam, Dean kissed away the tears that clung to Sam’s lashes, his tongue lapped up the salty trail of tears following their path to Sam’s ear. I’ll take care of you.” Dean’s whisper promised before he found Sam’s lips.

Inching down slightly Dean wanted to drag out every second they were together. From the hollow of Sam’s throat, he continued his journey. His teeth found a taut nipple, taking its twin between his fingers he waited to hear the familiar gasp, then moan knowing he found the right point between pleasure and pain.

Sam held on to Dean’s shoulders; it never ceased to amaze him the feelings Dean could awaken in him. A look, a touch, a kiss could drive him mad with desire, want and need. And to have Dean buried within him, holding him, telling him he loved him was all his dreams come true.

With Sam’s hands on his shoulders he let him guide him. Licking his way down the hard flat stomach he stopped, dipping his tongue into the younger man’s naval. He felt Sam’s erection bumping under his chin. He could smell the intoxicating scent of sweat mixed with the familiar musk.

Scooting down further Dean ran his fingertips down Sam’s thighs. Sam was bucking up under him, heard him call his name. Looking up hazel eyes watched him, he blew across the head of Sam‘s cock, seeing goose-bumps rise off his young flesh.

He continued to drag his fingers over Sam’s thighs feeling the flex of the hard muscles at his touch. Capturing the hard shaft with his hand, Dean started a slow, steady pace stroking up and down. He heard Sam moaning and pleading, his hips thrusting up, trying to catch the rhythm of Dean’s hand.

Bringing his mouth down he licked the pulsing flesh from root to tip, his tongue circling the crown. Licking and sucking Sam’s huge cock, Dean brought Sam nearer the edge over and over again, before pulling back not allowing Sam’s release.

Blanket held in his white knuckled grip Sam arched into Dean’s mouth as he begged for release. “Please, please Dean.”

Reaching across Sam’s body, Dean hooked his jacket dragging it closer. Digging through the pocket he found the bottle of oil he placed in it before they left the manor. With shaking hands he uncorked the bottle. Pouring a liberal amount in his hand he felt it drip between his fingers. Stroking his cock he coated it with the oil. Pulling his hand away he moved it down to Sam’s entrance. Slowly he worked in a slick finger, heard Sam gasp at the intrusion. Dean waited for Sam to adjust before adding another, stretching him as he went.

Using his knees, Dean spread Sam’s thighs wider. Pressing his throbbing cock into the tight entrance he waited as Sam caught his breath. With a nod Dean pushed further into Sam’s body until he was sheathed inside. Dean bit his lip to keep from coming. He leaned down till he was covering the hard firm muscular body of his lover. He felt powerful thigh muscles as Sam’s legs wrapped around him, pulling him in deeper. He started moving, slow deep thrusts before finding a steady rhythm.

Sam’s large hands were holding onto him desperately, bruising, like he would never let go. And Dean didn’t want him to. “God Sammy, I love you so much.” He heard himself say. Dean felt the body beneath him still for a moment before Sam was arching into him again, matching each thrust.

Dean felt hard knuckles against his stomach as Sam’s hand slipped between their bodies.
The feel of Sam’s hand stroking himself, need and desire had Dean twisting his hips, driving him deeper. He felt Sam tense, then the warm rush of his release between them. With one last thrust Dean lost all control, shuddering as his orgasm moved through him.
Shaking and spent Dean collapsed on Sam. Strong arms wrapped around him pulling him closer as their breathing gradually slowed. Slipping out of Sam, Dean rolled to his side taking his lover with him, holding on for all he was worth.

Sam snuggled into Dean’s embrace, his body and mind relaxed, sated, doubting either of them had the energy or will to move. Sounds gradually returned as his breathing slowed. The tearing of grass as the horses grazed, the rasp and scrape of canine teeth on beef bones, bird song and buzz of insects. Dean’s arm tightened about him, a kiss against his brow. Lifting his head Sam looked up noticing a frown marring the perfect features. “Dean?”

The warm afternoon sun beat down upon them. At the mention of his name, Dean brought his elbow up, propping his head on his hand. “Sammy, when this is all done you know what you have to do.” Dean waited for Sam to meet his eyes. “Promise me you’ll burn my body.” The thought of that much evil having taken it over terrified Dean.

“Don’t. Please Dean.”

“You have to do it. There’s no one else. Promise me you’ll do it. You’re the only one I trust.” Dean pleaded. “I have to know there’s nothing of him left.”

“Dean there won’t be time… time to… I have written a letter for George, he’ll know what to do. He’ll take care of things for us.”

“It can’t wait for George. You have to do it as soon as I’m gone. I’m begging you, please.” Blinking back tears, Dean caressed Sam’s cheek. “I’ve never asked you for anything before.”

“Oh God.” Full of pain and anguish Sam sat up, arms wrapped about his head, knees drawn up he rocked back and forth. “No! I can’t. Please… please don’t ask me to do that.”

Sitting up Dean took pity on Sam. He wrapped his arms around him, stilling him. “It’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.” He kissed Sam’s forehead willing to let it go for now.

Sam sat watching the dragonflies and other small insects by the water’s edge. A sudden dart of blue catching his eye, tapping Dean’s arm to gain his attention then putting a finger to his lips to signal silence he slowly pointed a little upstream. There sat on a slender branch overhanging the waters edge a bright blue and orange kingfisher, beak full of wriggling minnow. “Bet you wish you had your paints and paper,” he whispered close to Dean’s ear.

A low growl and scrabble of canine feet saw Samson and Delilah jump off the bank into the river. Standing to see what caught their attention Sam pointed out a water vole swimming along the opposite bank before ducking into the entrance to his home in the river bank. Two very disappointed hounds were sniffing at the entrance with not a hope in hell of catching anything.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” Sam called over his shoulder as he picked his way gingerly on bare feet over tree roots to the rope hanging from the overhanging willow. Giving it an experimental tug he stepped back a few paces before launching himself out over the water and letting go. The huge spray of cold water hitting Dean as Sam went under.

Dean gasped at the unexpected splash of cold water. Grabbing the rope he waited till Sam surfaced. Choosing his spot he swung out over the edge dropping with a few feet of him. Coming up for air, he saw the huge smile on Sam’s face. Laughing like a couple of kids, they swam and splashed around.

All too soon the sun was slipping towards the horizon and it was time to pack up and head home. Drying themselves on the rug they dressed hastily. The early evening brought a nip to the air. Catching the horses and tacking up, they were soon crossing the river once more, two tired dogs close on their heels. Entering the estate a groom came out to greet them. Dismounting they handed over the reins, Dean whistling for the dogs to follow, they went straight to their apartment in search of a hot bath and something to eat.

Tags: angst, historical romance, horror, nc-17, slash

A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.


HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/13/
CHAPTER 4 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/27/
CHAPTER 5 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/6974.html

WARNING- CHAPTER 6: Some readers may find the contents of this chapter disturbing. Emotions run very high and we ask you to keep an open mind. It is not our intent to put our beloved characters in a bad light. Even so we will post a DUB/CON WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. Very much top sam in this chapter!

PS Our poor beta has not checked this chapter so all mistakes are ours alone
CHAPTER 6 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/02/
CHAPTER 7 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/7555.html
CHAPTER 8 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/17/
CHAPTER 9 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/8151.html
CHAPTER 10
Honore Et Amore Chapter 10

The sound of scratching woke Dean. Glancing over he could see Sam’s body sprawled across the bed. He knew he should get up and chase the hounds away. They had taken to following him every chance they got. Stretching out he thought back to yesterday.

With a little of George’s help, they managed to keep Sam busy and distracted. Several of George’s guests for the summer ball had arrived. Old family friends and acquaintances of the Richards family were happy to see and catch up with the young lord. Dean watched how easily Sam slipped back into being Lord Richards, the Earl of Somerset.

Excusing himself after all the introductions, Dean returned to the cellar and back to the research. After finding the ledger, everything started falling into place. The ledger directed him back to the Key of Solomon. From there finding the summoning was easy. Now he would just point Sam in that direction. There would only be a few days to prepare. Maybe it was better that way.

George requested Dean join them for dinner. Although he wanted nothing more than to decline, Dean owed it to George for all he had done for them. He was somewhat grateful to find himself at the opposite end of the table from Sam. Curious stares and a steady barrage of questions kept him occupied, but he was constantly aware of hazel eyes glancing his way.

Dean was dreading tonight, the summer ball. The social event of the season. Teasing, Sam offered to give Dean dance lessons, only to be surprised when Dean told him he knew how to dance. Marie taught him when he was younger. They were in New Orleans his dad recovering after a hunt gone bad. It was one of the few times his life seemed normal.

As he started to get up, Sam’s long arm reached out, pulling him close, nuzzling into his neck. Shutting his eyes he nestled into Sam, soaking in his lovers warmth. The loud barking of the dogs brought Dean out of his bliss. With a frustrated groan, he rolled away from Sam. “Damn, dogs. Better get them before everyone in the house is up to see what’s going on.” Dean looked back at Sam stretched out invitingly on the bed. “Come on, Sam. Time to get up. We have a few hours. If we go now we can get some research done.”

Once in the basement, Dean tossed Sam Sean’s journal, watched the slight hesitation as Sam opened it and scanned the pages looking for something Dean might have missed, doing the same with the letters. Setting out scrolls for Sam to translate and more texts, soon they were both immersed in their elusive search. An ever growing collection of notes and entries testament to their many hours of work. Dean checked his watched, knowing their presence would be missed, he informed a reluctant Sam it was time to go. Dean watched the dejected set of Sam’s shoulders as he followed him up the stairs.

******
A bath and shave and it was time to get dressed for the ball. Everything was laid out waiting. Dean would have preferred fighting monsters instead of facing all these people. He didn’t care what they thought about him, but he didn’t want to embarrass Sam, and as Sam‘s guest what he did would reflect back on him. This was Sam’s life before, and could be again. It was time for Dean Winchester cowboy, hunter, bounty hunter, to become Dean Winchester, gentleman.

With great care he started to dress. Standing in front of the mirror he admitted Henry had been meticulous with the details. The black trousers were a perfect fit. He hadn’t been in suspenders since he was a child. Braces, they called them braces, he reminded himself. The white cotton shirt contrasted nicely with his bronzed skin. He quickly donned the black socks and low shoes. He missed his boots, but it was only for a night. Slipping into the waistcoat he grabbed his jacket and went to wait on Sam. No matter how hard he tried, he would have to ask for help with the bow tie.

Entering Sam’s room Dean was surprised. Sam’s clothes were still laid out waiting, Sam nowhere in sight. Making his way to the bath, he caught Sam deep in thought. He saw the sadness reflected back in Sam’s eyes from the mirror. Dean knew what weighed so heavily on the young lord’s face. It was the same thing that occupied his mind during his waking hours. Destiny. Shamus said the Guardian would be tied to the Seer for his lifetime. Did he know what that lifetime was? A cruel twist of fate, or in his case a twist of the knife.

Clearing his throat, he waited for Sam to acknowledge him. “ Need to get dressed Sam. We have to be downstairs soon.”

This was supposed to be the highlight of the social calendar. The Wilton House Ball. Everyone who was anyone would be there. Earls, Barons, Dukes, Lords and their Ladies. Rubbing his hand over the steamy mirrors surface, Sam scraped away the last of his beard, fingertips checking for any stray whiskers. Finding none he washed off the shaving crème and dried his face.

Staring at his reflection, Sam realized he’d changed so much since he was here a year ago. For one his parents were still alive, his mom excited about meeting old friends and catching up on the latest gossip. Usually consisting of which lucky young woman managed to capture the eye of an eligible bachelor. Sam always tried to stay well out of the way showing enough interest to satisfy his parents and George before slipping away into the beautiful peaceful gardens.

Dancing and social chitchat he could tolerate in small doses, but after a couple of hours of being perused even Sam’s patience had worn thin. From old and widowed, to young and simpering, Sam did his duty and behaved like the gentleman he was brought up to be

Sam was aware for some time that something was missing in his life. Pondering what it might be.

Well, he certainly found it in spades, Dean, the Brotherhood, and a Demon named Baliazar. Would he swap this year for last? Truthfully some of it he would. But not Dean. Never Dean. In such a short time Dean became Sam’s whole universe, his sun, moon and stars and he knew Dean felt the same about him. There was nothing they would not do for each other… and that was at the basis for all of Sam’s anxiety. So far nothing he looked at seemed to offer even the slightest hope of a way out for them. Time was rapidly running out and if he could not find it in time he would be forced…

How was he to do what Dean and the Brotherhood demanded when he was having the greatest difficulty even saying it? Let alone thinking about, and worse still planning the best way to do it. Knowing Dean that little discussion along with one other would soon be on the table. One of them was definitely not up for negotiation. He also knew that was the one thing that would break Dean’s heart.

Turning, Sam stared in wonder; Dean looked every inch a gentleman. Henry had done himself proud. The tux fitted perfectly, knowing Dean concealed a small arsenal of weapons. Walking around him, Sam inspected the rear view, just as good as the front. “You look very handsome Dean.”

Dean waited for Sam to finish his inspection. Smiling he couldn’t help himself. “You’re not so bad yourself. But I prefer you to keep this look,” reaching for the towel that covered Sam, “just for me. Get dressed.”

Neatly sidestepping the grasping hands, he slipped out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Dean remained standing, watching as he dressed. Shrugging into the jacket he finally turned to look at Dean. “What do you think?” He asked raking one hand through his hair

Seeing Sam, Dean held his breath. Sam was right, the clothes did make the man. He never looked more handsome. With an appreciative nod of his head, “You look pretty good yourself.” Shrugging his shoulders, Dean held out his bow tie. “Can you give me a hand with this?” He asked, moving closer to Sam.

Taking the proffered black tie, Sam stepped closer draping the black cotton pique round the stiff collar before neatly tying it, gently tugging on the ends he made sure it sat correctly. “All done, can you do mine?” Sam indicated the loose ends hanging either side of the collar. Dean looked up, their eyes making contact. Oh God. It would be so easy to fall into those eyes and never climb back out.

For all the times he’d been this close to Sam, Dean was suddenly nervous. He was all thumbs. Sam waited patiently as he fumbled with the loose ends. Finally on the third attempt, he got it right. A last glance in the mirror, Dean knew it was time to join the ball. He’d been dreading this since George and Sam mentioned it. “Are you sure they’re expecting us? Can’t we just stay here?”

Cupping his hand round the back of Dean’s neck, Sam closed his eyes letting his forehead rest against Dean’s. “There’s nothing I would like more than to stay here, you know that.” He knew Dean was nervous. Funny, he could face a vampire, but quelled at the idea of a few hours in the company of his fellow man. “You’ll be fine Dean; I promise if I spot some wicked young thing trying to have her way with you I will rescue you.”

With a quick kiss to Sam’s lips, Dean stepped back. “My knight.” He teased. “I’m not quite the catch as your lordship. I’m afraid you’ll be fighting off your own flock of followers. I’ll probably be the one rescuing you.” Walking to the door, Dean pulled it open. “Shall we go Lord Richards?”

Walking down the wide staircase, Sam was more than aware of the looks they were both receiving. He whispered, “if it gets too much, sneak into the garden that’s what I do.” Standing by the entrance to the ball room Sam handed their card to the announcer. Leaning in close, “its only for a few hours, I’ll try to keep an eye on you.”

The announcer read the invitation and in a clear loud voice “The Earl of Somerset and guest, Mr. Winchester.”

*******

Stepping into the Ballroom Sam nudged Dean’s shoulder then pointed out the refreshments. Both making a beeline for the white linen covered table. A huge silver punch bowl, engraved with a hunting scene, took pride of place.

As they entered the room Dean wasn’t surprised by the number of eyes on him and Sam. Curious stares to see Lord Richards’ business partner. Outright leers from others. He’d often been told he was handsome. But there was only one set of eyes that mattered to him.

Sam could tell from the set of Dean’s shoulders how tense he was. His eyes swept the huge room looking for exits and assessing the level of threat that the situation posed. Dean the hunter in a tux was something Sam would never forget and so it would seem neither would a lot of the guests. Dean was certainly attracting a lot of attention and not all of it female.

From the linen covered table, Dean was able to survey the entire room. It was obvious no expense was spared for lavish occasion. At the end of the room a small orchestra played. Late summer flowers filled every corner of the room.

Women in all their finery. Ruffled gowns in silk and taffeta, white and pale pastels for available young women in search of husbands. Richer colors for those spoken for, even a few in widow’s weeds. Men dressed in tuxedo’s, or military uniform with braids and sashes, chests full of medals.

From the corner of his eye Dean saw George approaching, with a number of women in tow, an almost apologetic look on his face. He couldn’t help but notice the resemblance of the women.

“Samuel,” George began, “I’m sure you remember my cousin, Lady March. And her daughters.” Starting from the oldest to the youngest. “Alice, Emma, Beth, Jane, and Lucy.”

“Lady March, this is Samuel’s business associate, Mr. Dean Winchester, from America.”

Lady Elizabeth March and her five daughters top of his list. Out of politeness he put up with them each time they met at a social engagement, but not tonight. Tonight he had neither the patience nor the will to play nice. Like Dean he was here on sufferance and he fully intended to get away as soon as humanly possible, taking Dean with him.

Following Sam’s lead, Dean made at slight bow at each of the introductions, aware of Lady March’s scrutiny. Soon their names were inscribed on each of the young ladies dance cards, along with that of their mother Lady March.

As the music started again, Dean found himself escorting Miss Alice March to the dance floor as Sam took his place with Emma. With each turn on the floor, Dean’s eyes sought out Sam. Glad to see he wasn’t the only one miserable by their circumstances. Once the music ended the young women were escorted back to their mother. Switching off, Dean noticed the differences of the sisters as they waltzed around the room.

Alice was talkative, chattering away. Emma distracted, her attention wandering to another young man. Beth, flirtatious, enjoying the attention her loud laughter brought from around the room. Jane was shy, barely speaking a few words. And Lucy had a rebellious streak about her that Dean found refreshing. Lady March was full of questions, obviously searching to find out if Dean would be a suitable husband for any of her daughters. Dean felt bad for the women, put on display to find a husband. Viewed as little more than property.

Never ending introductions, one after another, Dean was constantly trying to remember them all. His name added to more dance cards. Sam was faring about the same. They would meet back at the table after every couple of dances. Just enough time to exchange a few words before they were again separated from one another.

Some of the gentlemen took a keen interest in Dean as well. Asking about the business venture that brought Dean and Sam together. Dean telling them Sam was interested in purchasing land he was reluctant to let go of, and a partnership was formed. Years of practice let him easily slip into the role he played. With his quick wit, soon the conversation changed.


Dean was practically dragged to the dance floor by a lovely Countess. She was almost as tall as him, her dark hair fell in loose curls almost to her waist. Flawless olive skin. The sapphire color of her gown brought out the blue of her eyes. Her ample breasts threatened to spill out of her gown. Dean noticed the wagging of tongues as the ladies kept glancing their way, whispering behind their fans. As the dance progressed she pressed her body closer. He saw the open invitation in her eyes. A lifetime ago he would have accepted it.

But now Dean knew it wasn’t soft round curves he wanted in his bed. It was the feel of a hard muscled body pressed against him. Large hands that would hold him firmly in place or pull him in deeper. It was a hard jaw line, Sam’s mouth leaving him babbling like an idiot, begging for more, marking him, claiming him. It was looking up into hazel eyes that told him everything he wanted to know.

Looking around Dean didn’t see Sam anywhere. It wasn’t like Sam just blended in. Impatiently he waited for the music to end, quickly escorting the Countess back to her seat. Excusing himself he remembered Sam telling him he would often sneak into the garden. With that in mind, he went in search of Sam.

******

Stepping outside Dean took a deep breath filling his lungs with fresh air. He reeked from the mixed scent of the perfumes that clung to him. The almost full moon illuminated the statues and fountains. Scanning the vast grounds he didn’t see Sam. He could be anywhere, the garden was huge. Feeling the familiar thump of a tail, he looked down, George’s hounds, his almost ever present companions waited patiently. “Let’s go find Sam.” Following behind, Dean was lead to the gazebo where he could make out Sam sitting in the shadows, his head buried in his hands. Approaching quietly, he entered, “Sammy?”

A cold wet nose thrust into his face made Sam jump; it was one of the dogs. Dean would not be far behind. When he slipped out of the patio doors he spotted the two hounds patiently waiting. Both dogs attention focused on the interior of the ballroom, large soulful eyes no doubt searching for Dean. Since their arrival the two fox hounds seemed to have formed a deep attachment to Dean. They followed him everywhere, much to George’s and Sam’s amusement. Even when barred from the room Dean was in, they would lie down outside and patiently wait for him to come out. Sam unconsciously stroked the broad head and the velvet soft ears while he waited. The scrunch of shoes on the gravel path betraying Dean’s approach.

“Sammy?”

Dean waited for Sam to look up, but he continued petting the dogs refusing to face him. Sitting next to Sam, Dean put his hand on Sam’s arm. Sam was always the one to make contact first. Somehow Dean knew that Sam needed him to be the one to reach out, to touch him.

Sam continued stroking the large bony head and warm soft ears, he felt like he was slowly drowning. Nothing made any difference. All the research was a waste of time, he’d read most of the books. They were nearly out of time. There was no escape. Not for Dean, and consequently not for him.

Knowing what weighed so heavily on Sam’s mind, Dean lifted his chin, making him look at him. Gently he brushed away the tears that still clung to Sam’s lashes. Sam’s eyes couldn’t hide anything, he was breaking and there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. Pulling Sam into his arms, he tried to give Sam his strength. Tried to hide how much he was breaking, too. Knowing the dogs would alert them to anyone coming, Dean kissed Sam, the taste of whisky still on Sam’s tongue. Pulling back he looked into the anguished hazel eyes. “Talk to me, Sam.”

“It’s nothing. I just needed a little air.” He fiddled with the hem of his tuxedo.

“Me, too. It was getting stuffy in there. All those people. They were asking about you. Said you weren’t yourself.” Stopping Sam’s hands, Dean repeated himself. “Talk to me.”

“We should be researching not… I need to research, time is running out. I have wasted enough time. George wanting help with guests and tonight the ball. Do you have the knife on you? No one will notice if we slip into the cellar for a while. There must be something I haven’t seen or translated properly, some clue I missed that will help.”

“You’re wrong Sam. People will notice. These are your friends, they care about you. All those books, they’ll still be there tomorrow.” Thankful for the darkness, Dean continued. “I promise, we’ll find something.”

Searching Dean’s face he saw only love and the need to protect. Sam desperately wanted to believe. Oh God, he wanted, needed it so badly it was almost a physical craving. But wanting and needing would not make it come true, no matter how hard he wished it. With a weary sigh, Sam stood up. “Dean, don’t promise what you can’t deliver. It’s worse than lying. Do you want to go back in or call it a night?”

Dean stood taking Sam‘s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes. “Remember what James said. You have to have faith and trust. That’s why all the others failed. I’ve seen your faith Sam. I trust you to do the right thing. You can’t give up. A few months ago you didn’t believe monsters existed, you didn‘t believe in fairy tales. Now you know. You’ve seen with your own eyes. What would you say if I told you I wished for you? It’s true. One night I made a wish. Wishes are magic. It doesn’t take much to make a wish come true. Do you know the best time to make a wish? It’s a full moon, a crescent moon, or the equinox. All you have to do is close your eyes and repeat three times. Sammy I know it sounds crazy, but I swear to you.”

“Yeah, well faith only gets you so far Dean. The rest is usually down to hard work. I can’t research dressed like this. I’ll go get changed then I’m going to the cellar. I need you to unlock the casket for me.” Sam stopped a couple of paces away from Dean, “and as for wishes, I stopped believing in those about a year ago”

“No Sam, you’re not going to the cellar. We’re going back inside. You were the one that wrote George asking to stay, you came here knowing about the ball. You‘re going to walk in there and act like Lord Richards. There’s nothing I would like more than to give you back your life with your parents. It was a poor bargain, me for them. Sam, I love you so much it hurts. You can spend the next few days mad at me if that’s what you want to do, its your choice. I hope you make the right one.”

What ever comeback Sam thought Dean would deliver, it was not that. He immediately felt deep shame for his earlier behavior. Dean was right about several things; his friends did not deserve to be on the receiving end of his bad mood, and he was letting the family name down. But God help him he was so very wrong about one thing. The bargain.

Dean’s face normally so readable was now a closed book. His eyes normally so expressive. Sam was the first to look away. “You’re wrong.” He continued but it was little more than a whisper, “I was given the bargain of a lifetime. You.” Thoroughly ashamed of himself he strode back towards the ballroom.

Quickening his pace, it took a few moments for Dean to catch up to Sam. He felt guilty as hell for being mean. It was for the best. The next few days would be hard for both of them. Dean hated the sadness in Sam’s eyes. As they approached the doors, Dean stopped him. “Sam, promise me something.” Dean took a deep breath as Sam turned to face him. “Promise me you’ll stay away from the Countess, I don’t want to see her hands all over you.”

Sam appreciated Dean’s efforts to lighten the mood. “Sorry Dean, too late, the countess was the last dance partner before I left.” He smiled hoping Dean would swallow his change in attitude. Pulling out the pocket watch he pressed the catch opening the gold case, it was ten o’clock. Hopefully the festivities would die down about twelve. He could do it. Put on a show for two hours. Pretend everything was wonderful, that he was enjoying himself, make conversation. Be Lord Richards. He would become Dean for a while, hide his true feelings, his frustration, his hurt and his anger and deal with it later.

Dean knew Sam was making the effort because it was the proper thing to do. It was what was required of Lord Richards. Putting on a smile Dean decided if Sam could do it, so could he. He would never be happier to see this evening end. Even though Sam laughed, Dean meant what he said about the Countess. It wasn’t just her, it was all of them. He realized how much he hated sharing him. Dean had never been jealous before with any of his lovers. Sam was different, he was more than just his lover. He was everything.

The human body had an amazing capacity to deceive not only itself but others. Sam danced, ate, drank, made polite and informed conversation and even laughed when there was need. Through it all he felt detached as if something or someone else was in control of his body. Time passed but he was unaware until Dean caught his arm and whispered in his ear.

Keeping an eye on his watch Dean waited before approaching Sam. The last dance for the evening would be announced soon. If they started saying their farewells now, Sam could politely give his regrets to anyone wishing to dance. Catching Sam’s arm he breathed into Sam’s ear, knowing the effect it always had. Maneuvering him to George’s side, Dean smiled as several of the guests started towards their host. With his most charming smile he recounted his pleasure at meeting everyone.

Once the farewells were said, Sam followed Dean into the hall and up the wide staircase. He could feel the tension falling away. His footsteps got slower and he used one hand to pull himself up the last few steps. The walk to their apartment took ages and all he wanted was to fall on his bed. Sam wondered if Dean felt the same way.

By the time Dean made it up the stairs he’d already removed his tie, his jacket, and his waistcoat. He even managed to untuck and unbutton his shirt. He was never happier for a day to be over, even knowing what it meant for him and Sam. Now he wanted nothing more than to lock the door against everyone else. Just him and Sam in the world they shared. Unlocking the door, Dean let Sam enter first, waiting for some sign Sam wanted him to stay.

As Sam stepped past him, Dean felt the slightest brush of fingertips against his hand. An invitation to stay. That was more than he could ask for. Dean removed his shoes as he watched Sam drop onto the bed before laying back. Moving to the bed, he crouched down. “Here let me help.” He offered, lifting first one foot and then the other he removed Sam’s shoes and socks.

Squatting on the floor removing Sam’s shoes and socks was the persona of Dean Winchester, Bounty Hunter and Killer of all things evil, the man others never saw. This side of himself Sam knew was reserved only for him.

Sam waited for Dean to look up, leaning forward he cupped the back of his head drawing him into a lazy kiss. Not a promise of sex, rather one of love, trust and understanding.

Shrugging out of his jacket, Sam dropped it to the floor along with the tie, trousers, shirt and underclothes. Climbing naked between the sheets he held the covers open for Dean to join him. Strong arms pulled him onto his side tucking him against the warm muscled body.

Sam draped his arm across the slim waist linking their two hands, as usual Dean’s other hand was against his head, fingers idly playing with his hair. They were both secure enough in their relationship now, there was no need for words. Sam pressed his lips to the smooth skin, felt Dean’s kiss on the top of his head and both relaxed drifting towards sleep.

He should be exhausted after the last couple of days. Glancing over he almost envied Sam lost in dreamland. Almost, but he never tired of watching him in the depths of slumber. Since being together he spent hours doing so. Unable to sleep, Dean slipped away from the warmth of Sam’s body.

Putting on his trousers he made his way to his room, opening his trunk he found what he was searching for. Returning to Sam’s room, Dean pulled the chair next to the bed. The near full moon illuminated the room with a soft glow, giving him all the light he needed. Taking out his pad, he started to draw.

Sam’s dark hair half covering a tempting lobe, contrasted against the white pillow. Dean sketched the shape of Sam’s face, his strong jaw line partially cast in shadow from the glow of moonlight. The long neck Dean loved to nuzzle, exposed and inviting. Strong shoulders gave way to well defined arms, his left arm outstretched awaiting the return of his absent lover. He admired the bare chest, hard firm muscles, and flat stomach, before he captured them on paper. Sam’s right hand grasped the sheet covering him from the waist down.

Dean knew what pleasures awaited there. Stifling a yawn he set his pencil down. Feeling drowsiness overcome him at last, he put the chair back in the corner. Undressing he climbed back into bed. Wrapping himself around Sam’s lean body, he let the sound of Sam‘s soft snore lull him to sleep.

Tags: angst, historical romance, horror, nc17, slash

 

A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.


HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/13/
CHAPTER 4 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/27/
CHAPTER 5 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/6974.html

WARNING- CHAPTER 6: Some readers may find the contents of this chapter disturbing. Emotions run very high and we ask you to keep an open mind. It is not our intent to put our beloved characters in a bad light. Even so we will post a DUB/CON WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. Very much top sam in this chapter!

PS Our poor beta has not checked this chapter so all mistakes are ours alone
CHAPTER 6 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/02/
CHAPTER 7 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/7555.html
CHAPTER 8 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/07/17/
CHAPTER 9 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/8151.html 

Opening his eyes Sam found that he was once again at the stones. For some reason they seemed much larger at night, scarier, his young mind imagining monsters lurking behind the massive stones. Lightening split the sky overhead and Sam dropped to the ground in fear, bony knees drawn up to his chin, skinny arms wrapped around his head. Ever since he could remember, storms frightened him. He would run seeking safety in his mother’s arms. She understood, did not tease him about his childish fears. His dad would say, “you’re a big boy now Sam. There is nothing to be afraid of.” Then he would ruffle Sam’s hair and change the subject. But Sam was not convinced.

 

  A deep growling rumble of thunder shook the ground, accompanied by forked lightning.   Sam whimpered, he wanted mom, failing that he wanted Shamus or his Dad.  Tears filled his eyes spilling down his cheeks.

 

Laughter sounded in front of him, he risked looking up, one small hand scrubbing the tears away.  A man leant against one of the tall stones; he was dressed from head to toe in black. 

 

“Hello Samuel”

 

  Sam gasped “H….H…How do...How do you kno…know my name?” Standing up he took several faltering steps back, the man felt funny.

 

 “Oh Sammy, I know all about you. Everything you have done and everything you will do.

“Did you enjoy your trip here today?” Watching the small boy squirm, enjoying his fear he continued.  “Did you see anything interesting?” Watching with amusement as the color left the horrified child’s face, the tremors that shook the small frame. He mocked, “You’re not a very brave little boy are you, Samuel? I can’t imagine young Dean wetting his trousers, but then you’re not Dean are you?” He tugged the collar of his coat up and tipped his hat further back on his head revealing his face and hair.

 

The first thing Sam noticed was the shocking red hair, next was the long scar that ran from his right eye to his chin. Sam’s tummy started to hurt like he was going to be sick. He stepped back once again, not daring to risk turning round to see where he was going, too afraid that the man would grab him.

 

“Would you like to know what I’m going to do Samuel?” Ignoring the shake of the child’s head he continued, “I’m going to see that interfering brother of mine, he’s caused me so much trouble I’m going to kill him very, very slowly and painfully. Would you like to see that, see me kill Shamus?” Looking at the child’s deathly white face he continued once more. “Then I am going to pay a little visit, a visit to that pretty little mother of yours.” He licked his lips, “I will play with her and when I get bored I will have a house warming fire. Daddy will have a ring side seat Samuel.  He will be watching, enjoying, laughing, as mummy crackles and pops on the fire and then dear daddy will join mummy on the fire. A Richards Roast, won’t that be a tasty treat, eh Samuel?”

 

Sam wanted to run wanted to scream, he was so utterly terrified he could do neither. He shook so hard that his teeth were chattering. His legs gave way and he fell onto his hands and knees violently ill.

 

The man laughed, studying his small victim enjoying every moment of the boy’s pain, fear, and wretchedness!   “Then I will come for you boy and there will be no one to stop me. I’m going to enjoy myself so much with you, Samuel.  Take pleasure in your pain. In your gasps and moans. You won’t like it and you certainly won’t survive it. But you will be an interesting little plaything for a while. I think Dean would make a more worthy distraction, but I need him. For later.  You, are somewhat superfluous, a weak cowardly little boy who clings to his mother’s skirts.”  He knew the moment his eyes turned black, heard the terrified boy’s screams. “Be seeing you Samuel! “

 

Sam sat up in bed screaming, frightened eyes darting round his bedroom looking for the man with black eyes. Blankets held against his heaving chest in a white knuckled grip.

 

The bedroom door opened with such force it banged against the wall, Shamus and his parents rushing to his side. His trembling, sweat soaked body was scooped up and cradled on his mothers lap. Soft lips pressed against his forehead, soothing words mumbled against his cold clammy skin.

 

 “Shush, little man, shush, I’m here, you’re safe now.” She rocked him, a soothing hand carding his hair.

 

“No! No!” Sam cried. “I’m not safe. He...He’s coming to get us.”

 

“No little man, it was only a dream, no one is coming to get you.” Sarah kissed her son’s cheek.

 

“N, no. “Sam sobbed, “it wasn’t a dream, he said, he said he was going to kill Shamus and then he was going to kill us.” He clung to his mother’s neck.

 

Shamus knelt in front of Sam. “Sam look at me. Look at me Sam!” The tear streaked little face turned to rest on Shamus’ familiar features.  "What did the man look like? Think carefully now Sam, tis important”

 

Sam calmed slightly, sobbing giving way to hiccupping, hitched breaths and sniffing. “He looked like you Shamus, but taller and he, he ha, had b-b-black eyes.”

 

Shamus looked from Sarah’s anxious face to David’s. Shaking his head he said “not in front `o the boy. David, come with me.” Just as his hand touched the door he heard Sam ask “who's Dean, mummy?” Shamus stumbled, David catching his arm preventing him from falling. Looking up he hissed “I need ta talk ta you now!” Making for his bedroom he closed the door firmly behind them. “David we must act quickly, he’s found Sam and by the sounds of it, Dean too! He’s scaring the boy and that’s his intention. In time he’ll frighten the boy so much, he’ll be useless to us and Dean when the time comes.”

 

“What can we do Shamus? Sarah and I have done all you asked of us. We have loved Sam, kept him safe. Not exposed him to any of the Brotherhood as per your wishes. Even though, those among the Brotherhood have wished it otherwise. They wanted access to him, wanted to train him to fight, but we did as you asked. Now what are we to do, Sam is clearly terrified, it is not something he will ever forget?” David grabbed the little man’s arm “Tell me! What are we to do?”

 

“Calm yourself David, ma boy. I know a way ta make this right, but I need ya permission."   Shamus knew David would do anything for the little boy he loved so much.

 

“Anything, Shamus, anything, you know that. You have my permission.”

 

“I can make young Sam forget.”

 

“What? How? You mean, forget?”

 

“Yes, I can make him forget everything. What happened at the stones today and what happened here tonight. It will be as if it never happened. Young Sam will grow up as we intended him to.  Innocent, with an open mind and without the crippling fear that bastard has filled him with today. God alone knows what he told the boy.  He will remember nothing of this day until the time is right, when he needs to remember. Not before.”

 

“What do you need Shamus? Name it and it will be yours.”

 

“Nothing. Just leave me and the boy alone for a while and when he wakes tomorrow morning, he will have forgotten.”

 

“You won’t hurt him, will you?” David asked worried for his son.

 

“David I would never willingly hurt Sam, you know that. Take Sarah downstairs and stay there till morning. If this is to work I must do it now.”

 

“Give me a minute with my son and Sarah, and then we will do as you say.”

 

Fifteen minuets later Shamus sat on Sam’s bed. The sleeping draught he’d given the boy was starting to work. The little hand gripping his ever so tightly was starting to relax.

 

Shamus had sought permission for what he was about to do to Sam.  Lock his memories away until he came into his powers. He had no compunction about the spells effects on the rest of the household. They along with Sam would loose this days memories. Only he would be immune to the magic he would weave here tonight and that was as it should be. Needed to be for Sam’s sake….

 

Sam knew he was dreaming, tried to wake himself up. He didn’t want to see any more, he wanted Dean.  Wanted to Wake up!  Find, Dean. He wanted, needed Dean!

 

********

Returning to their rooms, Dean washed and changed.  Pacing, restless, and hurting he came to a decision.  Scrabbling a quick note asking that he or Sam not be disturbed, he checked on Sam before making his way downstairs.  Seeing Duffy, he handed him the note asking it be passed on to Lord Pembroke.  Taking a small detour, Dean stopped in the large kitchen.  Rose was more than happy to accommodate any friend of Lord Richards.  Bustling around the large warm kitchen she prepared a light dinner at Dean’s request.  As Dean ate, Rose recounted several stories from Sam’s childhood. Finishing his meal, Dean thanked Rose and slowly made his way to the secret passage leading to the basement.

 

Glancing up and down the hall to ensure he wasn‘t seen, Dean quickly slipped through the doorway.   After entering the small room, Dean locked the door behind him.  Within minutes a collection of scrolls and books were laid before him on the table.  Chastising himself, Dean thought of the time he wasted when he should have been researching.  Maybe his dad was right all along maybe he allowed himself too many distractions. 

 

Lighting a new candle, Dean wasn’t sure how much time passed.  Stretching out, he tried not to let his mind wander from the task at hand.  A cup of coffee would be a godsend, but he didn’t have time for little luxuries.  Taking another stack from the chest, he rolled his neck before sitting down.  Even knowing Sam was safe he worried about him, wished he was here, missed his presence.   The look in Sam’s eyes at the stones kept flashing in his mind, even worse, Sam’s withdrawal.  Reminding him of what he’d done.

 

Shaking his head, Dean pulled a small journal from the top of the stack.  A packet of letters fell to the floor.  Retrieving the bundle, he placed them on the table before opening the book.  Inside the cover the book was inscribed by the owner; Sean Patrick O’Reilly.  His personal diary.  Scanning the pages, Dean passed through the first several years.  One item did catch his eye.  Sean talked about losing his mother as a young boy, how a few years later his father married again.  His new wife giving him a brother, Shamus.  Glimpsing through the years, he talked about meeting someone special.  Dean knew immediately he was speaking about James.  Sean told of a strange man approaching, of becoming the Guardian, of the daunting task ahead.

 

Untying the faded ribbon that bound the letters Dean turned them over.  Curious he started to read.  The first few letters were written before their destiny was revealed.  Letters of undying love and devotion.  The last two were of doubt, of desperation. 

 

Sean told of confessing his sins to his priest.  His sin, loving James.  He told of the priest’s revulsion.  He was a sinner, a sodomite.  He would be cast into the fires of hell.  He could only be redeemed if he gave up his lover, if he changed his blasphemous ways.  The letter from James tried reassuring Sean.  Telling him to have faith and trust.  They would overcome. 

 

Faith and trust.  That’s what James told Sam in his vision.  He and Dean could defeat Baliazar with faith and trust.  They were like Sean and James, a man of faith and a sinner.  Is that how it was with all the Guardians and Seers?  Is that why they all failed?  Dean would rather die than give up Sam. 

 

After reading the diary and letters, Dean was no closer than when he entered the room today.  Over half the books didn’t have what they needed.  He was beginning to believe there was nothing.  The walls were closing in, he needed air.  Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to take a break, he locked the door behind him.  Reaching the top of the narrow stone steps, he listened intently.  He couldn’t afford to be seen entering or exiting the hidden passage.  Hearing nothing, Dean unlatched the door, cracking it open, George’s hounds were laying there waiting.  Once they saw Dean they sat up, tails wagging, happy to see him. 

 

Telling them to stay, Dean climbed the stairs to their rooms to check Sam.  Peeking into the bedroom, Sam was sound asleep.  He was turned on his back, Dean watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, heard the soft snore.  God, he wanted to lie down beside him and sleep.   But he couldn’t, not knowing if he was welcome.   Besides, he had work to do. 

 

Taking the back hallway he slipped into the kitchen.  Rose cheerily made a fresh pot of coffee, popping a warm tart from the oven.  Setting Dean at the table she propped open the back door letting in the evening breeze.  He listened to the excited chatter as preparations for the ball were well underway.   Closing his eyes, Dean felt the warm atmosphere only a kitchen could provide.  The heart of the home.  Wrapping his hands around the cup, he drank in the dark brew.

 

Finishing up, it wasn’t long before he was back in the cellar, nose in yet another ancient tome.  Dean didn’t remember the last time he felt so defeated.  He promised himself, promised Sam, they would find a way out of their destiny.  Each road led to a dead end.  Frustration and anger mounted like the ever growing stack of books.  Why were all these books here if they didn’t help with the prophecy?  

 

Taking his arm Dean swept the large pile into the floor, books landing helter skelter.  Looking at the mess, he didn’t care if he was acting like a child.  Dean buried his face in his hands.  He wanted to scream, to cry, to vent his rage at the unfairness of it all.  So many hours and nothing.  Hours he could have spent with Sam.  Sam, he heard Sam’s voice in his head.  “Stop wallowing in self pity, we’ll never find the answers.”

 

Kneeling down Dean started gathering the books.  The gilt edges of ancient ledger caught his eye.  He didn’t remember seeing it earlier.  Setting it aside, he cleaned up the mess.  Sitting down he examined the cover.  Something was familiar.  Closing his eyes he concentrated.  The seal, somewhere he knew the seal.  Mull, Robert, Duncan, the Brothers.  Opening the ledger, his fingers glided over the ancient parchment, the illuminated pages, the archaic script, The Brotherhood of St. Michael.  The Archangel Michael.  Michael, the angel in the vision.  Michael the angel of autumn.  The ritual must take place on the autumn equinox.  Michael the warrior, the protector, the healer, the guardian.  Dean was the Guardian.  Michael, the angel of repentance, righteousness, mercy and salvation.  Was this their salvation?  Michael, who sent God the prayers of the faithful. Sam was faithful.  James said they must have faith and trust.  This was it.  This was what they’d spent weeks trying to find.    

 

Page after page, Dean read.  Years and years of entries.  Over a thousand years traced back.  He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  And then, there it was.  Baliazar.  An angel given the task by God to resurrect the dead.   Those worthy by God’s choosing.  Corrupted, he sought sanctuary in hell. Now fallen he joined the forces of Lucifer, given the task to resurrect the dead.  Necromancy.  Those of Lucifer’s choosing.  

 

Dean continued to read.  There in front of his eyes were pages and pages of names.  The previous Guardians and Seers, all those who failed.  The last entry empty.   The last entry.  Dean sat there stunned.  He had to tell Sam.  Minutes passed before Dean started to gather the books.  Carefully he returned them to the stone casket, locking the box he made his way to the door.  Unlocking the door he lit the torch before blowing out the candles.  Securing the door behind him, he started up the stairs. 

 

*******

Entering the room, he heard Sam calling out his name over and over.  Sam was asleep, caught in the throes of a nightmare.   

 

“Sam. Wake up.”  Dean continued to shake the sleeping man.  Sam’s face was pale and sweating.  Dean felt him tremble as he pulled Sam against his body.  Shaking even harder he watched as Sam’s eyes fluttered before opening.  Dean waited a few moments for Sam to focus, waited as recognition set it. 

 

“Oh God, Dean.”  Sam threw his arms around him.

“Dean?” Sam hugged him fiercely. Sam was still caught up in the dream, the memories, emotions and fears of his eight year old self. Gradually as his breathing slowed down he became more aware of his surroundings and released Dean.  Sitting up he pushed a hand through his hair. Everything seemed so real, his dreams as a child, his fear, his parents. Sam could still feel his mother’s arms about him, her lips against his forehead.

 

Giving Sam some time, Dean fidgeted, unsure if Sam wanted him close.  Sam had been angry with him at the stones.  Angry about the visions.  Was the hug just a measure of comfort for Sam coming out of a nightmare?  “Are you alright?  Was it a nightmare or another vision?”  Dean asked trying to keep his voice calm.

 

Sam drew his knees up wrapping his long arm around them. “No. Not visions, or nightmares. Memories, Dean. I was reliving memories Shamus took from me when I was eight.”

 

Watching Sam wrap his arms around his knees like he did, reminded Dean of an eight year old.  He looked young and vulnerable.  Dean wanted to hold him and chase his fears away.  But Sam wasn’t an eight year old.  Dean walked around the bed, sitting down he leaned against the headboard, still close if Sam needed him.  “Why would Shamus do something like that?”

 

“You saw the visions I had when we were at the stones today? Well it didn’t end there. That night Baliazar paid me a visit in my dreams.”  Sam shuddered, the memories still too raw, too fresh in his mind.

 

Reaching over, Dean put his hand on Sam’s knee, wanting to touch Sam and lend his strength.  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

 

Sam scooted back also resting his back against the headboard, making sure his shoulder was in contact with Dean’s. Things had been a bit strained between them and as usual he suspected that most of it was his fault. He now knew why Shamus and his father shielded him from any involvement with the Brotherhood, but he couldn’t help wondering if he would be better off with Dean’s attitude. Wished he was not perceived as the weak link.

 

Releasing the breath he was holding, Sam turned to look at Dean, he saw deep sadness and weariness on his face. Leaning into his lover’s warmth he told Dean the rest of the story.

 

Dean listened intently as Sam recounted his dream.  “Shamus and your parents did the right thing.  They were trying to protect you.  As a child you weren’t strong enough to fight Baliazar.  He’s a demon.  He would have destroyed you.  They gave you a chance to grow up.”   One look at Sam’s face told him what he was thinking.  Dean grasped Sam’s hand, feeling his long fingers close around his.  “You’re stronger than me where it counts.”  

 

“I don’t know Dean, what if we can’t find a way out? I don’t know if I can...”  He looked at Dean’s face, the too expressive eyes, saw Dean glance out the window. “And even if I do, what’s the point? I don’t want to be without you Dean.”

 

Wanting to change the subject, Dean put on one of his best smiles.  “Come on Sam.  You’ve been sleeping for hours.  You missed dinner.  I’m sure Rose kept something warm for you.  Let’s go raid the kitchen.” 

 

*****

 

Tags: angst, horror, nc-17, period drama, romance, slash, western
Current Music: KILLERS

A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.

A/N We are so sorry for the long delay in posting the final story. Hopefully we will continue posting on a regular basis now. Many thanks for those of you who asked where we were. So without further delay here is chapter 3.

HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2009/03/13/
CHAPTER 4

The huge empty bed mocked him, only further emphasizing the fact he was alone. Dean wondered if Sam was laying awake two doors down thinking the same thing. He was glad he’d slept on the train from Glasgow to London, he wasn’t sure he would be getting any tonight. Even with Sam’s reassurance he would be safe in his home Dean hated the thought that he was unprotected.

Feeling the need to keep busy, Dean pulled his weapons from the trunk. He had done it so many times; the familiar ritual of cleaning was comfortable. With every gun and knife memorized, he could close his eyes and not miss a beat. His thoughts turned to the days events.

Upon leaving the station Dean tried to take in all the surroundings. The nearer they came to their destination the closer attention he paid to the area. He watched as they passed a huge library, a cemetery, and several pubs he would make a point to visit later.

Several churches lined the narrow streets. Always a wealth of information, and now with Sam’s newest revelation they would be given access to the archives. With a little luck they would be able to find out more about Baliazar, more importantly they might find what they needed to destroy him.

Once they finished their tea, Dean asked Sam for a quick tour of his home. Always the hunter, Dean filed away all the exits and entries to memory. Stepping closer something else caught his eye. From the huge entry hall to the richly decorated dining room with its huge chandelier, everything orderly, shined and polished, Dean never felt more out of place.

The kitchen was warm and inviting, Dean watched as Sam quietly came up behind the small, plump woman putting his arms around her. Turning, the elderly woman brandished a large wooden spoon before realizing who accosted her.

“Oh, your lordship, it‘s so good to see you‘ve come home.” Tears glistened in the woman’s soft brown eyes as Sam embraced her tightly.

As Dean watched, he realized with a dull ache how much he missed Ruth.

“Mrs. Peel, I would like to present Dean Winchester, he’ll be our guest while I’m here.”

Using all his charms, Dean gave the elderly woman a slight bow. “ Mrs. Peel, my pleasure. Lord Richards told me your teas are legendary. Now I know what he was talking about.” Winking he continued, “What he didn’t tell me was how beautiful you are.” From the corner of his eye he watched Sam smile, shaking his head, as he rolled his eyes at Dean’s antics.

Glancing from Dean to Sam, Mrs. Peel told him with a laugh. “If it’s alright with your Lordship, I’ll be locking up the maids while this wolf’s here.”

After leaving the kitchen Sam began a slow climb up the stairs. Motioning to the room at the end of the hall, he told Dean that was his parents room, before showing Dean to the large modern bath and then his room. Stepping into the room Dean was surprised to see the room wasn’t as elegantly decorated as the rest of the house. The large room was comfortably furnished. A large wooden bed was centered against the wall, a wardrobe opposite the bed, a huge leather chair sat near the window, in one corner a small writing desk held a crystal decanter full of whiskey with two glasses. Dean’s trunk had already been placed in the room as well. Quirking his brow, Dean looked at Sam.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sam told him it was Shamus’ room when they stayed in London.

“That explains a lot.”

With a puzzled look Sam asked, “What are you talking about Dean.?”

“Come here,” walking to the window Dean pointed up to the frame showing Sam the symbols carved into it. “Every door, every window, has been marked for protection. I bet if I look hard I’ll find even more.”

Dean followed Sam to his room, again pointing out the markings and charms. Sam’s room suited him, Dean thought. Squatting down he pulled up the corner of the large carpet revealing a devil’s trap beneath Sam’s huge wooden bed. The room was larger, but similarly furnished to his. In addition a large bookcase covered half a wall.

Once inside the closed room, Sam reached out caressing Dean’s face, thumbing over the bruise that was mostly hidden in his hairline. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Taking his lover’s hand, Dean brought it down to his lips kissing the open palm. “It’s okay Sammy. You did what you thought was right.”

Shortly before 8:00 P.M. Wilkins informed Sam dinner was ready, and with permission he would be up in a few minutes. Sam opened his door waiting for his butler as Dean cleared the books they were pouring over from the desk, giving the man room to place the trays. Sam informed Wilkins the dishes would be sent back to the kitchen by the dumbwaiter, and he could dismiss the staff for the evening once all their duties were completed.

Realizing all the guns and knives were cleaned and checked, Dean repacked those he didn’t need for the time being. Sitting in the leather chair he waited until the house became totally silent. Noiselessly he exited his room crossing to Sam’s in a matter of seconds. Quietly undressing and lifting the covers he slid in next to Sam’s warm naked body.

“For awhile I thought maybe you weren’t coming.” Sam breathed against him as he nuzzled into his neck.

Dean pressed into Sam with a throaty growl. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

It was still dark when Dean woke. Glancing at his watch he knew he needed to get back to his room before the rest of the house was up. Trying not to wake Sam he disengaged himself from the lithe form wrapped around him. After putting on his jeans he dropped a kiss on Sam’s lips as he pulled the covers up and watched Sam snuggle into the blanket. Hesitating for a minute, he gave a sad sigh as he closed the door behind him.


*************************************

Sam woke early to an empty bed, he could hear the dawn chorus through his window, looking at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace he saw it was 5 o’clock. Moving his hand across to the empty side of the bed, it was cold, meaning Dean left some time ago.

Padding to the bathroom he made quick work of shaving and bathing. Running a comb through his unruly chocolate locks he chose one of his formal suits to wear.

He felt the need to dress the part of the Earl of Somerset this morning. He had an uncomfortable feeling his and poor Mr. Poole’s patience would be tried to the limits this afternoon.

Sam had been sneaking into Mrs. Peel’s kitchen ever since he was a small boy. His parents had been frequent guests of the former Earl’s and he often invited them to stay and make use of his London home. From the wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen Mrs. Peel remembered his liking for an early breakfast and was already hard at work.

“Good morning, your lordship. I have taken the liberty of cooking your favorite.” Wiping her hands on a cloth tucked into her apron, her round and remarkably unlined rosy cheeked face smiled at him.

“Morning, Mrs. Peel. That would be wonderful; can you make that for two? I need to butter Dean up before Henry arrives this afternoon.”

Mrs. Peel chuckled. “If anyone can make a gentleman out of your young Mr. Winchester it’ll be the Queen’s tailor.”

Walking over to the warming stove Sam lifted one of the covered plates and helped himself to a beautifully browned sausage.” Mmmmm, God I have missed these.” He enthused, pinching another one.

“It’s a good thing I catered for five this morning.” She watched a perplexed expression form on Sam’s face. “The way you are going you will have demolished one breakfast before it’s on the table.”

Sam paused, a half eaten rasher of crispy bacon in his fingers. “You know me too well, Dean has an equally large appetite. Would you like me to wait and take it up with me?”

“Heavens no! There would be nothing left by the time you reached your rooms.” She teased. “No, that nice Mr. Winchester needs a good breakfast inside of him. I’ll send it up in the waiter, should be ready in fifteen minutes.” Making shooing motions she encouraged Sam to leave her kitchen. A smile on her face. Such a nice young man, and that Mr. Winchester such a flirt. Shame I wasn’t a few years younger.

Running back up the stairs he knocked on Dean’s door. He didn’t have to wait long. Dean as ever an early riser was partially dressed. Sam’s eyes were immediately drawn to the expanse of bare tanned skin where the hastily slipped on shirt hung open. All thoughts of breakfast went out of his mind as his eyes traveled lower and found his lover’s feet were still bare. Sam felt the blood start to pool in his groin, with a groan he forced himself to remember what he came to say.

Dean smiled as he looked up at the taller man. “Morning Sam, did you sleep well? What can I do for you this fine morning?”

Momentarily caught off guard by the slightly formal greeting Sam frowned, pausing. before he realized Dean was putting on a show for any would be eaves droppers. “Morning Dean, slept fine I think. I wanted to know if you would like to join me for breakfast this morning?”

“I would love to join you for breakfast. I’m starving, is that bacon and coffee I smell?” Closing his door behind him Dean turned to follow Sam to his room.

As soon as the door was closed he pulled Dean into a passionate kiss. Hands cradled the sides of his face as he pushed Dean back against the door. “God I’ve missed you.” He managed to force out between eager kisses.

“It’s only been an hour since I left your bed, Sammy.” Dean barely got the sentence out before Sam was kissing him again. Hearing a noise in the hall, Dean pushed Sam back. “What was that?’

“Breakfast!” Yanking the door Sam collected the trays of food depositing them on the bed while Dean made room for them on the table.

The desk quickly cleared, Sam brought the trays over as Dean poured two cups of coffee. Breakfast was eaten in relative quiet. Sam seemed to have something on his mind, continually averting his eyes from Dean.

“Mrs. Peel sure can cook.” Dean said as he finished the last of the bacon. Stacking the trays he waited as Sam carried the lot back to the dumbwaiter.

On his return Dean was waiting for him just inside the door. He had an amused grin on his face as he reached up and using his thumb wiped at the corner of Sam’s mouth before popping his thumb in his own mouth and sucking on it noisily before pulling it from between his lips with a pop.

Damn, Sam thought. “You did that on purpose.” He accused as he pulled Dean into a less than gentle kiss. Pushing against Dean’s shoulders he guided them both back to the unmade bed where they collapsed side by side. Clothes were hastily discarded and left in a heap on the floor. Although they made love during the night both were eager once more.

Sitting astride Dean‘s hips, Sam leant forward placing a trail of little kisses along the line of the freshly shaven jaw, until he reached the small, neat ears. Dean moaned when he sucked and bit the tender lobe. He whispered, “love you Dean,” before he continued down Dean’s neck peppering it with small kisses and bites. Moving back slightly until he rested on the strong thighs. Sam popped a finger into his mouth moistening it before circling one nipple and then the other. His tongue followed flicking the tiny nub before he captured it between his teeth and nipped. Dean hissed, his neck arching digging his head into the pillow.

Continuing his exploration with his tongue, Sam followed the line between Dean’s pectoral muscles, past the highly defined abdominals, until he found the small depression of Dean’s navel. Stopping to plunge his tongue in and swirl it around the concave depression, before he nipped at the thin line of hair that led to the tight curls and the beautiful hard cock that brought them both so much pleasure. Deliberately by passing it, Sam stroked Dean’s inner thighs from knee to the crease where thigh met hip, before asking Dean to turn over.

Sam adored Dean’s back, he never tired of watching the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he moved. The broad shoulders tapering over his ribs to a trim waist, narrow hips, and a perfect backside. Unable to resist, Sam sank his teeth into the baby soft skin of the nearest buttock. Hard enough for Dean to feel, it but not hard enough to bruise. Nudging Dean’s legs apart with his knee Sam settled himself between his thighs. For a while he wanted to try something and he hoped this time Dean might be receptive. Not giving Dean any warning, he parted his cheeks planting small kisses on the space between, Dean stiffened but didn’t move away so Sam continued. Using the tip of his tongue to moisten the soft skin along the crease, before placing a kiss against Deans opening.


As he leant forward Sam felt his cock glide over the back of one thigh before he moved allowing the sensitive head to follow the path of his teasing tongue. Taking some of his weight on his hands that were braced on either side of Dean’s shoulders he lowered himself covering Dean’s back. Letting his head fall forward he kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth then turned his attention to Dean’s neck lavishing it with small kisses. Wriggling slightly Sam felt the head of his cock rub against Dean’s velvet sack moving forward he allowed it to slowly follow the crease until it reached the slight depression of Dean’s entrance. Allowing the head of his leaking cock to rub back and forth spreading his bodies natural lubrication. God Sam was so turned on it felt wonderful “God, Dean,” he groaned,” I want you!”

Dean was turned on from all the lavish attention. Sam knew all the right places, all the little things that made him ache for more of his touch. The warmth of Sam’s mouth as he pressed little kisses against Dean’s neck sent shivers through his body. He didn’t think it possible, but as Sam’s body covered his, he felt himself get even harder. He could feel Sam’s cock nestled between his cheeks, moving lower towards his opening.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized exactly what Sam was asking. The moment of truth was finally here. “Sam, no one else,” he stuttered, trying to find the words. “What I’m trying to say is I’ve never trusted anyone before I met you….” he could feel himself blushing.

Had dean not suddenly gone rigid under him Sam would have missed the quietly spoken confession.. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but then again this was his Dean, so he could. Dean was brought up not to trust anyone. So it was entirely natural his distrust extended to sex. After all, it was when a person was most vulnerable.

Sam held his position poised above Dean, he didn’t want to make a fuss about Dean’s virginity and put him off. But by the same token he couldn’t let it go unacknowledged. Also he would HAVE to slow down now, back off a bit. Lowering himself so he lay snug against Dean’s whole length, Sam, placed one large hand soothingly on the back of Dean’s neck and began to massage the tense muscles.

Dean felt Sam’s slight hesitation before he lowered himself completely. He couldn’t believe for once Sam seemed to be speechless. With a nervous laugh he teased “Cat got your tongue Sammy?”

“Dean I’m sorry I just presumed that… What I mean is, you don’t have to.”

“You want to do this, don’t you?” Dean asked hoping to ease both their fears a little.

Wriggling from side to side Sam replied. “Do you even need to ask?” He placed a kiss on Dean’s temple. God, Dean was full of surprises, he could be pig headed and totally ruthless at times, but it was this side of his lover that intrigued Sam the most. The vulnerable almost shy side, that no one but him would ever get to see.

Sam’s body felt so good pressed against him. Yes, he was nervous, but it was a nervous excitement, anticipating Sam making love to him. Reaching over he grabbed the small bottle by the bed passing it to Sam.

Pushing back onto his hands and knees Sam grabbed one of the spare pillows, slipping an arm under Dean’s stomach he lifted so he could slide the pillow under his hips and make things a little more comfortable. Pouring a little of the oil onto the small of Dean’s back he lightly ran one large hand through it. Starting at Dean’s neck he kneaded the tense muscles before moving on to his shoulders which were just as knotted. Gradually Sam felt Dean start to relax. Unlike Sam, Dean didn’t have the luxury of half a bottle of champagne to loosen him up. He moved down over his lower back to his bottom, placing a kiss on the base of his spine before poured a thin trickle of oil between his cheeks. Replacing the bottle he quickly followed the glistening path the oil had taken with his fingers, sliding between the slightly parted cheeks. Dean opened his legs wider allowing Sam to kneel down, one hand resting reassuringly on the small of his back, his thumb rubbing small circles on his quivering skin.

The slick trail led past Dean’s entrance. Sam remembered back to the first time Dean had done this to him. Remembered how strange it felt, not painful but it had been uncomfortable at times. He gently eased an oiled finger in, and the first thing he thought as Dean clamped down on the invading digit was if it was this snug a fit with just one finger how was there ever going to be enough room to fit his raging erection in this incredibly small tight space? The second was how warm and soft Dean felt once he had gotten past the rings of muscle. As Dean relaxed he was able to slide his finger in and out. Eventually judging dean relaxed enough to add a second. Pulling out, Sam added a bit more oil to his fingers and pressed in with just the tips of his fingers. He could feel Dean immediately clamp down, in a soft coaxing voice Sam said “Dean try to relax, I know it feels strange, a little uncomfortable, but I promise it does get easier.” Continuing to push past the resistance, Dean groaned and Sam could see him gripping the pillow tightly. Sam stilled his movements, leaning forward he placed small kisses on Dean’s back, his other hand continuing to massage small circles on the now sweat slicked skin. “Dean, we don’t have to do this, if its hurting I’ll stop.“

Feeling his body constrict around Sam’s fingers, Dean concentrated on the feel of Sam’s hand as he rubbed circles into his skin, the feel of Sam‘s warm breath against his back. He trusted Sam, knew the pain would pass, he wanted this. He wanted to feel everything. “You could never hurt me.”

Taking Deans words as permission Sam pressed in with both fingers. Once fully inside Sam set about finding that special place that had turned his own discomfort into pleasure. Pressing against the smooth wall. Now if only he could…. Ahh found it. Gently he caressed the sensitive gland. As expected it had the desired effect.

Dean hadn’t really known what to expect, but whatever it was Sam had done made him forget the slight discomfort of Sam’s fingers. As he gasped, he heard Sam give a little laugh.

Sam continued with the patient stretching, when he could just about get three fingers in he stopped and looked down at himself. Dean used three, though the first time Sam was convinced it was a lot more. Sam was sure Dean was ready, well as ready as he was going to be. “Dean this time its going to be me.” He warned, “so just relax and let me in I’ll go slow I promise.”

“I’m ready Sammy,” Dean heard the nervousness in his voice, knowing Sam could hear it too.

Pouring a generous amount of the oil onto himself he made sure every bit was covered. Stroking Dean’s side to calm him, Sam took a steadying breath before pushing forward, surprised at the amount of force needed to breach the small opening. Dean immediately went rigid under him.

Dean let out a shocked gasp. “Sam.”

Sam stopped instantly, holding very still he peered down all he’d managed to get in so far was the head.. “ Dean, I’ll hold still I won’t move but you have to relax.” And he would hold still, even if it killed him “Let me know when your ready.”

Taking a deep breath, Dean let it out slowly, his heart was racing. “I’m ready.”

Dean caught his breath as he felt Sam enter him for the first time. He knew Sam was giving him time to adjust, to ease the pain. He thought about how good it felt when he was the one inside Sam, picturing Sam‘s face when they made love. Releasing his breath he gave a slight nod of his head letting Sam know he was ready for more.

Easing in slowly Sam held still for a moment, before withdrawing until only the head remained inside. Grabbing the bottle, he drizzled more of the oil between Dean’s cheeks and over his cock. This time when he pushed in it was much easier, but still incredibly tight. Using short strokes Sam was finally fully sheathed inside “God dean you feel fantastic.“ Resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder he bit down trying frantically to stave of his orgasm. The intense pleasure almost overwhelming; Sam was not sure who was shaking more by this stage, him or Dean. Wrapping an arm round Dean’s waist Sam moved back pulling Dean with him, until they were both kneeling.
He never imagined it would be so good, the sensation of Sam filling him until he was fully inside. Each stroke was slow, sweet torture. He knew even without touching himself that he was harder than he had been in his entire life. He could feel Sam’s hands holding his waist. Dean felt Sam shift behind him before he was pulled up. Reaching out Dean grabbed the headboard, arching his back into Sam; he wanted more. He heard himself whimper, “Oh God Sammy.”


Dean arching into him was Sam’s undoing. He could no longer stay still, and neither it would seem, could Dean. Gripping one muscular shoulder to steady himself he reached under Dean with the other hand finding and squeezing his hot hard cock in time to his own thrusts. Dean holding tight to the headboard as,. need, heat and the most intense pleasure drove all rational thought from Sam’s mind. As his body took over, driving them both over the edge, spiraling out of control. Dimly he was aware of incoherent sounds, Dean’s name torn from his lips as he came. Dean’s own release spilling hot over his hand. Breath coming in ragged gasps he lay his head against Dean’s back “Jesus, Dean, you okay? Sam gasped. He could hear Dean’s heart thudding in his chest and his own felt like it was trying to burst out of his head. Small white stars were flashing behind his closed lids and his limbs felt like they had turned to jelly, no way would they support him if he moved..

Sam moving inside him was like nothing he ever experienced before. Pain and pleasure mixed into one. He could feel every movement of Sam’s body, the flex of muscles as his hips pushed forward, deepening every thrust. His blood was pounding through his veins, his heart beating faster and faster. Sweat trickled between them as their bodies moved in tandem. Sam’s breath was hot against his back.

Sam‘s hand stroking him in rhythm as he pounded into him. His body fueled by lust and desire eagerly met every thrust. He felt the liquid heat as Sam exploded into him. Losing all control, he spilled over Sam’s tight fist. He heard Sam ask, “Jesus Dean, you okay?” As he collapsed onto the bed. Breathless, all he could do was shake his head yes.

Following Dean down onto the bed Sam carefully withdrew. Dean looked totally out of it. Smiling, Sam kissed him on the temple before going to the bathroom to fetch a couple of cloths to clean them up. Taking advantage of Dean’s sleeping form Sam cleaned and then checked Dean to make sure he had not caused any damage. Sliding the covers from under the sleep heavy body Sam sighed in contentment. Pulling Dean tight against him Sam buried his nose into the gap between Deans neck and shoulder “Thank you,” he whispered into the soft freckled skin.

Tags: angst, horror, nc-17, romance
Current Music: breaking benjamin, breath

A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY.
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.

A/N We are so sorry for the long delay in posting the final story. Hopefully we will continue posting on a regular basis now. Many thanks for those of you who asked where we were. So without further delay here is chapter 3.

HONORE ET AMORE
CHAPTER 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/09/20/
CHAPTER 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/5930.html
CHAPTER 3

Dean blinked his eyes. It took several moments for the spots to clear. His head was pounding and the constant motion wasn’t helping any. Shaking his head he tried to comprehend what happened.

He couldn’t believe it. Sam hit him.

Looking around he was aware they were in a small boat. In the distance he saw Castle Duarte on the far shore. The only noises were muffled whispers and the sound of the water as it hit the side of the small vessel. Glancing about his eyes settled on Sam’s tall form talking to Duncan.

As he struggled to sit up, Sam turned hurrying over to Dean. Reaching over to touch the already darkening bruise Dean knocked his hand away. “Don’t touch me Sam,” he snarled.

“I’m sorry Dean, I had to do it. The Seer had a vision before we arrived. You would have died on Mull. It was the only way to prevent it from happening.”

“How can you be sure? All your visions were changed. How do you know we couldn’t change this one as well?”

“This one was different Dean. Please, I don’t know how to explain…”

Dean waved Sam off, his green eyes still flashed his anger. “Did you even try Sam?”

Neither man noticed Duncan‘s approach. “You don’t have time to argue. People died to ensure your safety.”

Looking around Dean saw the faces of the boat’s crew watching him and Sam. “Where’s Robert? And what about the others? How many got away?”

“Robert went back,” Sam replied as he dropped his head, “He refused to leave the others.”

“So we were the only ones to get away?” The thought of others sacrificing their lives to let them escape gnawed at Dean’s insides as he waited for Sam to look up. “Are they all… dead?”

Unable to speak Sam just nodded his head.

A sudden wave of nausea overcame Dean. Quickly moving to the side of the boat he hung his head over the edge heaving. The shame of his failure and weakness was there for all to see. He felt the familiar weight of Sam’s hand on his back, the gentle touch offering comfort and asking for forgiveness for hitting him. How could he tell Sam he was unworthy? Several minutes passed before the young hunter could compose himself. He waved off Sam’s assistance as he made his way back to his seat on unsteady legs.

The rest of the trip was done in silence. Each man left to their own thoughts. It wasn’t long before the small boat docked. Telling them it was no longer safe to return to the inn Duncan told them to follow him.

Dawn was breaking as they made their way through the winding streets before stopping at a tiny cottage. “Arrangements are being made to get you to Glasgow. From there you’ll be able to get to England.” Duncan stated. “It will be safer to travel under the cover of darkness.”

“Can we get to our trunks?” Dean asked. “There are things in them we have to have.”

“My people can take care of that. If there is nothing else, I suggest you get some sleep,” Duncan said as he turned to exit the room.

“Wait,” Sam requested, as he hurriedly wrote a note handing it to Duncan. Quickly scanning the note, the young Scotsman nodded to Sam before leaving the room.

Once they were alone, Sam again apologized profusely for hitting Dean. Explaining his vision, how James had the same vision of Dean's death. Dean heard the sincerety in Sam's voice, saw the anguish in his eyes, still he wasn't ready to talk about it.

“Dean…” Sam started only to be cut off by the older man.

“You heard Duncan. Get some sleep.” Dean motioned to the small bed. He could see the nights events weighed heavily on Sam’s mind as well. Dean saw Sam's hesitation. With a sad smile Dean tried to reassure Sam everything would be alright. Joking, telling him he knew how hard it was to sleep alone. It took awhile for Sam’s breathing to even out as he fell into sleep.

Dean was angry with himself. He wondered if he would have listened to Sam, to leave when the time came. Like a siren's call he let the lure of the battle draw him in, he felt the excitement surge through his blood. He had been foolish, leaving Sam alone and unprotected when he left with Robert. He was warned that so much depended on him and Sam, on the success of what was ahead. His father and others told him before, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't save everybody. Robert and the others made their choice, to give their lives to ensure that Sam and Dean would live. Making a promise to himself, Dean vowed he would at least try to give Sam the benefit of the doubt from now on.

Pulling up a chair Dean positioned it so he could watch Sam. They were all dead. Dean knew the odds were against them at the castle, but still how many deaths would be on his conscience before he and Sam could kill Baliazar? They could not fail. He would not let these deaths be in vain.

Dean hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but at some point he dozed off, only to be awakened after hearing his name. Looking over, he watched Sam tossing and turning in a fitful sleep. Incoherent mumbling almost a chant poured from his mouth. Stepping closer he could hear the words, a litany of “No I can’t” over and over. Reaching down, Dean caressed his lover’s face, “It’s okay Sam, sleep. I’ll be watching over you.” He reassured the sleeping man in a calm voice.

Hours passed before Duncan returned to the cottage. Telling Dean a small bribe to the innkeeper, and he was more than willing to turn his back as Sam’s and Dean’s trunks were retrieved from their room by several of Duncan‘s men and sent ahead to the station. They would be boarding the train to Glasgow and from there London. A private overnight sleeper was reserved as Sam requested.

Dean watched as the young man paced anxiously around the room, occasionally glancing in Dean’s direction. Pulling a jug from the cupboard and some glasses Duncan took a seat asking Dean to join him as he poured them each a shot of whiskey. Never sure what to say Dean broached the subject carefully. “I’m sorry about your father. I didn’t know him well, but I could tell he was a fine man. And proud of you.”

“He told you that?” Duncan queried. “He seldom told anyone I was his son. Wanted to protect me.” The man’s dark eyes filled with tears that clung to his lashes as he tried to wipe them away.

“He didn’t have to. I could see it in his eyes when we first met on the boat. I promise you I will do all I can to see that he is avenged.” Dean’s eyes never wavered from the younger man.

Raising their glasses, they paid tribute to the fallen men. Hearing movement from the other room, it was only moments later when Sam joined them, wiping the sleep from his hazel eyes. Pouring another round the men again lifted their glasses, a toast to their success on the coming hunt.

By late afternoon a simple meal was prepared, the table gradually filled as several men stopped by the small abode. Greetings and toasts were made all around. The lost men were honored with bold stories and laughter rang throughout the room. Still the sadness of their loss and sacrifice hung heavy in the air.

As the sun started to set Dean was approached by Sam and Duncan. “We need to get you to the station soon.” Duncan told him with a grin as he looked over to Sam. “It’ll be best if you blend in with the other travelers and not draw attention to yourselves. I have some clothes that should fit you.”

Dean followed the two men into the bedroom and waited as Duncan opened the large wardrobe. The cowboy’s eyes went wide as he saw a tartan kilt and a tam pulled from the wardrobe and heard Sam’s hearty laugh behind him.

“Oh hell no!” Dean said as he backed away. “No offense, but I’m not wearing a skirt.”

A huge smile covered Duncan’s face as he watched the look of disbelief that crossed Dean’s features before finally taking pity on the tall American. “The finery’s not for you.” Duncan reached in and took out a small collection of things for Dean to choose from before he left the room.

Once the door closed Sam stepped behind Dean, his arms encircling him, drawing him close. Leaning down he nibbled on a tempting lobe before whispering in his ear. “I think the skirt would have suited you,” he teased. “It would make your job of protecting me easier.” Sam roared with laughter and held on tighter when Dean let out an exasperated sigh as he squirmed to free himself from Sam’s strong arms.

“We don’t have time for this Sammy. We have a train to catch.” Dean stated over his shoulder as he waited for the young Englishman to loosen his hold. With a quick kiss to the nape of his neck Sam finally released him.

Dean could still feel Sam’s eyes on him as he removed his holster and then his shirt. The simple shirt he selected was a size too large, but he preferred it to the others. Taking a minute he carefully packed his holster, shirt, and Stetson in a satchel that had also been provided.

Two of Duncan’s men escorted them to the station. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he would not be there to see them off. Handshakes and quick goodbyes and the two men were off. It was dark by the time they reached the station and were able to board virtually unseen.

Once settled in the privacy of the carriage Dean asked Sam about the Seer. The way Sam avoided his eyes he knew Sam hadn’t told him everything. Sam was a very bad liar, obviously having little experience. Deciding to give him time, he hoped Sam would come to him when he was ready.

Sam had been almost as vague as to their next destination, only telling Dean they would be going to London where they could continue their research. The autumn equinox was still a few weeks away and there was much to do.

********************************************

That first night in Duncan's small cottage Sam was plagued by nightmares eventually giving up on sleep he joined Dean and Duncan in a farewell drink. Dean questioned him about the time he spent with James, wanting to know what James told him, what he had seen. He managed to fob Dean off with the vision of Baliazar’s arrival and Dean’s subsequent death, in addition to the other vision of his meeting with the demon. But he failed to mention the vision James locked in his mind. The one he would only look at in private when he returned to his London home. Sam knew the final vision from James would be bad and he wanted to put off knowing its contents as long as possible.

Opening it on the train or their first night home would not possible. No. He would wait until their second night home when Dean checked the house out to his satisfaction and was relaxed enough to sleep. Hopefully then Sam would have a few hours to himself, therefore time to compose himself before facing Dean would be vital.

Their departure from Oban was quick and discreet. Duncan and the remaining members of the Brotherhood taking care of all travel arrangements, ensuring their swift and safe arrival at the station. Once on board, Sam gradually relaxed as did Dean, the meeting with James, the visions and their subsequent flight was stressful to say the least. The bruise on Dean’s temple a constant reminder.

Sam reached out to touch the fresh bruise, only to have Dean pull away. "Dean, please I said… look you know I would never hurt you.” even as the words left his mouth the blue of the bruise mocked him.

"I'm fine Sam." Dean hated the look of guilt in Sam's eyes.

Sam could see that Dean did not believe him and he was not fine, he was far from fine. Sam looked down at his clasped hands. Dean was obviously still cross, so Sam tried to explain.

“James shared a vision with me of Baliazar killing you. It was,” Sam swallowed hard. “There was no time to explain… to argue, Dean. I made a decision, maybe not the one you would have made. But the sight of you pinned against the wall, blood dripping onto the floor… you were dead, Dean. I couldn’t stop him, it was too quick. James said he was coming, that we were out of time. Look I know you’re mad with me. Please see I didn’t have a choice.”

"You've already apologized Sammy." Dean was still angry that he hadn't seen it coming. He could have stopped it if he would have listened. His voice softened. "I said I was fine. Let's not talk about it any further."

The changeover at Glasgow’s Station to the overnight sleeper to London was accomplished with minimal fuss. Sam paid a porter to buy them a couple of hot pies and a couple of bottles of beer to wash them down with. Finishing their supper both men decided to turn in and soon he and Dean were snuggled up for the night. Both squeezed up into the one small bunk. Sam with his back to the wall and Dean facing the door. The only thing preventing Dean from falling out of the tiny bed were Sam’s arms wrapped protectively around him.

By mutual agreement neither discussed the events at Mull or Oban. Deciding instead to leave it until later, and if Sam had any say in the matter, a lot later. Once they were home an unsuspecting Dean was in for a few surprises. An appointment with a very well known tailor and a few deportment lessons were in order. It was time for Dean to blend in.

Twice more the train stopped to fill up on water and coal. Each time Sam paid the porter to bring them breakfast and a sparse lunch. With no dining car, passengers usually ate at the station restaurant but they both thought it a good idea to keep a low profile and stay in the private car away from prying eyes. At last by early afternoon the train pulled into Euston Station. The handsomely paid porter was dispatched once more to find a suitable cab. The eager porter probably made more in one day with tips from Sam than he would earn in a year. Soon all their luggage had been loaded onto the cab and Sam gave the driver his Hampstead address.

Going home was going to be strange. When last he stayed here he was a grieving boy now he was a grown man with a lover. Both were deeply involved in an ages old war of good against evil. With thoughts of home Sam was reminded of a certain little matter he had neglected to tell Dean.

Come on, you have to tell him before you get home. Wilkins is going to open the door and the cat will well and truly be out of the bag. “Uh… Dean, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I need you to listen and not get mad.”

Dean knew Sam was keeping something from him. Sam had been nervous on the train. He was just surprised Sam decided this was the time to tell him. “It’s been a long day Sam, just tell me."

Wincing, Sam looked sideways at Dean, “I’ve… um… I’ve got a title.” He sat back closing his eyes waiting for the penny to drop.

“What do you mean a title? You writing a book or something? Why would I be mad about that?” Dean asked wondering why it was bothering Sam so much. "I can see it now, My Life As A Vampyre Hunter by Mr. Samuel Richards." Dean teased.

“Not quite, Dean. It would be, My Life As A Vampire Hunter, by Lord Samuel Richards.” Sam held his breath nervously watching Dean’s face waiting for his reaction.

“Lord Samuel Richards? You mean as in fancy rich dude? What, that just happened to slip your mind before?”

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out through pursed lips Sam replied, “Yes, yes and no. It didn’t slip my mind …It’s never been important to me, Dean and I didn’t want it to make a difference to how you saw me.”

Shaking his head Dean looked up at Sam, “Do you really think it would have mattered to me? What I saw was someone who wasn’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and do what had to be done. We worked and trained side by side for months. I guess I would have been surprised. So you don’t mind secrets as long as their yours?”

Sam felt all the blood drain from his face. Oh God! Did Dean know? Could he know that James hid a vision in Sam’s head? A vision that was meant to be viewed in private well away from his guardian? He searched his face trying desperately to find the answer. He could feel his heart and breathing speeding up. Forcing himself to get control, he couldn’t let Dean see the affect of his words. Dean was nothing if not observant. “Dean I’m sorry, it’s just that I didn’t want to be treated any differently and believe me a title does that, whether you want it to or not.”

Seeing Sam’s distress Dean decided he was being a little too hard on him. After all he still kept secrets of his own. “So what does that mean for us while we’re here? I need to know. You should have told me before so I could have been ready.”

“Well it shouldn’t mean a lot to you. Its not as if I’ll make you call me your lordship.” Laughing Sam continued. “Not unless you want to. But other peoples' attitude to my title will be very obvious especially if we are to mix in polite society.”

Just wait till my tailor sees us, Sam cringed internally. Dean was going to throw a fit.

“My little Lord Sam.“ Dean breathed against Sam’s ear. “You would like that wouldn’t you?” Turning serious Dean looked at Sam. “ Sam I need to know that I can protect you, and I’m not talking about us being together. We have a lot to do and only a few weeks to prepare."

“Ahhh, Dean , about the being together part. That’s going to be a bit awkward. This isn’t Kansas with Ruth and Isaac. This is England with all its so called morals. We are going to have to be extremely careful. I have servants…” Once again Sam winced wishing he had explained all this whilst on the boat and not left it all to the last moment .

“Sammy, people have been sneaking around for centuries to be together. I doubt we’ll
have a problem with that. Might even make things a bit more interesting.” Dean said as he placed is hand on Sam’s thigh with a devilish grin on his face.

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, “Dean I’m serious what we do… Buggery, is against the law here, we could be put in prison. I’ll have a word with Wilkins when we get home and ban the servants from the third floor, that’s where our bedrooms will be. I’ll say we have some experimental equipment there that cannot be disturbed. That should at least give us some privacy.”

“Sam, I know how serious it is. I’ve seen what happens to people like us. I would never do anything to put you at risk. And now that I know about your lordship, I will never do anything to compromise your position. I don’t know how all this works, so you’re going to have to tell me as we go. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“Dean I don’t give a damn about the title or anything that goes with it, I never have. As for embarrassing me well, let's just say you could do with a few lessons on etiquette. If and I mean if, we ever have to visit anyone of importance or dine at the club. Otherwise it's just you and me same as always.” Sam hoped that Dean would not take this the wrong way. Rich people were notorious for being snobs and sticklers for manners, usually other peoples, not their own.

“You say that now, but if something ever happens you may decide you want to come back to this life. Marie did teach me a few things. We don’t have a lot of time to socialize. We still have research and we may have to use your influence to help. Just give me a little time to prepare is all I ask.”

“Dean, you have no idea, do you? Wherever we go you draw attention and just as my height and accent made me stand out in Kansas, so too will your looks and accent here. Something I intend to remedy as soon as I can. The accent I can do nothing about, but the clothes… They have to go.”

“What do you mean they have to go? I can leave the holster and hat when we go out. Nobody’s going to be paying much attention to me.” Dean knew how to blend in and not
be noticed since he was a child he was sure he could do the same thing here. Besides they didn’t have time to buy new clothes.

Sam sputtered nearly choking. “You have to be joking Dean!”

“No I’m not joking. I’ll just stand back and keep my mouth shut, let you do all the talking.” Dean couldn’t understand what the problem was.

“Dean you call yourself a hunter but you really don’t have a clue do you? What do you see when you look in a mirror? Because I have to tell you that you are the most handsome man I have ever seen. And judging by all the attention you have been getting since arriving here I am not alone in my opinions.”

Dean was embarrassed by Sam’s revelation, he knew he was blushing and couldn‘t help it. “You think I’m handsome? Like you said Sam, people have only noticed me because I talk different and because of my clothes. That’s all it is.”

A knocking on the roof of the cab announced they had arrived at their destination. The door was opened and Sam faced the four story Church Row town house that was the only link with his past. His parents inherited the house when his father inherited his title. His mother spent months turning the house into a welcoming home. He knew that walking inside was going to bring back many memories.

Sam was not at all surprised to see the elderly butler was waiting outside to greet them.

“Welcome home, your Lordship.” The sprightly sixty year old butler beamed from ear to ear.

Dropping his bag Sam embraced the older man “Wilkins, how many times do I have to tell you its, Sam.”

“No, my Lord, that wouldn’t be right. You’re the Earl of Somerset now and should be addressed as such. Besides Mrs. Peel would have my guts for garters if she heard me call you anything else.” The old Butler supervised the luggage as it was carried up the steps and deposited in the hall by Mister Peel.

“And heaven forbid we upset Mrs. Peel” Sam joked. The elderly housekeeper had been there as long as Sam could remember.

Dean looked up at the huge red brick townhouse. Sam told him everything was taken care of before they left America. Dean was not expecting anything this grand.

“Wilkins, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Dean Winchester, from Kansas. He’s my business partner and will be staying with us for a while.”

Sam could saw Wilkins assessing Dean, bowing slightly he said, “Good afternoon and welcome sir.”

Dean watched as Wilkins gave him a quick once over. Remembering his manners he extended his hand to the elderly man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“If you would like to go in your Lordship, Mrs. Peel has laid out a beautiful tea in the red drawing room. I will take care of the rest of yours and Mr. Winchester’s luggage. Would you like me to unpack your things?”

“That won’t be necessary Wilkins, just have them put in our rooms.” Glancing at Dean “Come on Dean, you must be starving, I am. You’re in for a real treat no one makes tea like Mrs. Peel.” Sam grinned as he started up the stone steps of his home.

Starving for tea. Dean thought. How silly was that? Why didn't they call it an afternoon snack? Tea was something you drank. Even Sam preferred coffee.

Grinning back at Sam, Dean couldn’t resist. With his usual smirk he replied, “Wherever you lead your lordship, I’ll follow.”

Sam stiffened and winced, he knew he was in for a lot of good natured teasing. Removing his coat he hung it on the hall stand and led the way into the drawing room, eagerly anticipating the tempting delights he knew would be waiting for them.

Dean followed Sam into the room, looking around before taking the chair closest to the fireplace. The late afternoon sun flooded the large room. The two large bookcases flanking the fireplace were filled to capacity. He watched as Sam drank in the familiarity of the room, could see him remembering happier times with his family.

Walking over to the huge fireplace with its large gilt mirror Sam closed his eyes for a moment. Sadly, he could feel no trace of his parents in the room. Not that he really expected to, but it briefly crossed his mind that with his new found abilities he might have felt something. Turning round he found Dean’s too knowing eyes on him, dammit, the man was too perceptive at times. “Help yourself, Dean.” He pointed to the wonderful display of food his housekeeper laid out for them on the side table.

Taking a delicate china plate he helped himself to a few sandwiches and poured Dean and himself a cup of coffee adding cream to his and leaving Dean’s black.

Filling his plate with some sandwiches and fruit tarts Dean returned to his chair. Wrapping his hands around the cup of coffee he took a large drink groaning out his pleasure as he tasted the dark rich brew. Looking over at Sam he smiled, “Thanks, Sammy.” He was rewarded with a huge dimpled smile as some of the unease drained from Sam’s face.

“Dean, I know this is not quite what you expected.” he opened his arms wide encompassing the beautifully decorated room,” But it is, was, my parents' London home and I hope you will feel at home here and treat it as you would your own.”

“All the comforts of home you say? I’ll remember you said that.” From what he had seen Dean wasn’t sure he would be comfortable here. Their home in Manhattan had been simply decorated, with sturdy furnishings, made to be used, unlike the fancy things that surrounded him. The only thing that said home to him was Sam.

Once the delicious tea was eaten Sam walked over to the intercom. Several minutes later Wilkins arrived, Sam asked that he relay his thanks to Mrs. Peel for the tea. He then broached the delicate subject of privacy. “During my stay no one is allowed on the third floor without my express permission. Mr. Winchester and I will be handling sensitive information and equipment.” Sam trusted the old butler to make sure his wishes were carried out to the letter.

“I will take care of that immediately your lordship. Would dinner at eight be convenient?” Wilkins enquired.

I think we’ll take dinner in our rooms, Wilkins. It’s been a long day and we have a lot of work to catch up on. So if Mrs. Peel could prepare something simple it would be appreciated.”

Tags: angst, romance

 
A/N THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL PART IN THE DARK RIDERS TRILOGY..THE STORY IS COMPLETE AND WILL BE POSTED WEEKLY. 
SUMMARY- FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM ON THEIR JOURNEY TO ENGLAND WHERE THEY  MEET THE LAST SEER AND REALIZE THE TERRIBLE PRICE THEY MUST PAY TO BEAT THE DEMON BALIAZAR AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Dark riders-http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/845.html
Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning -http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
MANY THANKS TO LOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL WORK OF ART, OUR BANNER
AND TO  feather_touch FOR BEING OUR FABULOUS BETA THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HARD WORK.


HONORE ET AMORE CHAPTER 1

Dean couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure if it was the constant motion of the train or the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Quietly he slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Sam. After their last train ride Sam insisted on renting a private rail car with all the luxuries of home for their journey to New York. Only thing was Dean hadn’t told him he made a slight change to those plans. Shamus again warning him to use his instincts before they left Kansas. Sam was a smart boy, he would figure that out come morning.

Pulling the chair closer to the window he sat watching the night fly past. The last ten days had gone by quickly. They all insisted, much to Sam’s chagrin, he rest a few more days. Next was a trip to Manhattan. Dean wired a list of supplies he would need before they embarked. Their travel arrangements were wired booking passage on a small liner from New York to England. What was it Sam said? The journey would take a fortnight from there. A fortnight, why couldn’t he just say two weeks, sometimes Dean wondered if Sam even knew how to speak English.

He made arrangements so Ruth and Isaac could start rebuilding the ranch while he and Sam were away. Sam provided the sketches and with a little luck they would have a home once they returned. Sam’s belongings had been retrieved from the hotel he'd left them there the day he followed Dean to warn him about the tornado.

The day that had been the turning point in their lives.

They lost most everything that day, so a trip to the mercantile was in order. A list was left with the proprietor and had been picked up by Isaac at the end of the week.

Dean was finding it hard to keep his word to Shamus to try and get along for Sam’s sake. The man tried his patience at every turn.

Shamus took as much delight in calling Dean “egit” as he did calling Sam “Wee Sammy.” Dean finally had enough. If Shamus was going to call him that then he would have to come up with a name for Shamus as well. He could always call him a leprechaun. No the little Irishman was probably used to that. Brownie perhaps, or elf? No those weren’t right either, and then it hit him. Next time he called him "egit" he would be ready for him.

Dean didn’t have to wait long. They were all sitting around Ruth’s table with a great bounty before them when Shamus nudged Sam. “Wee Sammy will ya have the "egit" pass the potatoes?”

Looking at Dean, Sam laughed as he asked for the bowl. Dean glanced over at Ruth and Isaac, winking as he picked up the bowl and handed it to Sam. In his best Irish accent he said, “Here ya go Wee Sammy, give these ta the pixie.” Laughter erupted from the table as Shamus sputtered and spewed.

“Pixie! Pixie ya be calling me, why you…” Stopping himself in mid-sentence Shamus broke into a huge smile.

After that Shamus learned his lesson. The few times he slipped, someone was always happy to remind the pixie.

Shamus answered all the questions he could about the Guardian and Seer. They spent hours translating runes and symbols, but there were still many questions needing answers. Training resumed, this time Dean learned a few new tricks too. Despite his age and size, Shamus had proven to be a worthy competitor.

Dean and Sam spent the last day at the ranch just riding. Letting the horses run as they pleased, regretting leaving them behind. Shamus promised they would be well taken care of.

Ruth, Isaac, and Shamus accompanied them to the station. Ruth cried as she embraced both boys, a quick hug from Isaac and Shamus and they were ready to board. Dean wasn’t sure how long they would be gone, but he made a promise to them all. They would be back.

With all those thoughts in mind, Dean decided if he couldn’t sleep it wasn’t fair for Sam to. Slipping back beneath the sheets he pressed into Sam’s warm flesh, letting his hands and his mouth awaken Sam and his passion.

******************
Pulling out of the station in St Louis, Sam gave Dean a questioning look. They were now heading south instead of east. They watched the landscape change as they traveled further south. At times large plantations dotted the scenery, lush green growth from the fields. Other times it was the cities lining the Mississippi River.

It was late morning when the porter knocked, handing Dean an envelope and telling them they would be arriving in New Orleans within the next half hour. Dean watched as the station came into view.

A private carriage was waiting for them. Their trunks quickly loaded and they were on their way. The city had been spared most of the ravages of the war. Local street vendors called out hawking their wares, rare and exotic treasures brought into the port city from around the world. Dean and Sam took in the beauty around them as they made their way through the French Quarter. Balconies with their iron laced rails hung over the narrow sidewalks. Oleander and wisteria lined patio gardens. Turning off Jackson Square, they soon found themselves at their destination, St Ann’s Street.

Stepping from the carriage, a young woman opened the door waiting for them to enter. They were led into a grand salon, before being told to have a seat as she exited the room. A large crystal chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, silk curtains hung from the windows. Dean chose a leather armchair, as Sam settled onto the large sofa adorned with rich velvet cushions.

The young woman re-entered the room carrying a tray she set on the sideboard. She took a small crystal decanter filled with an emerald liquid that reminded Sam of the color of Dean’s eyes. Sam watched entranced as she poured the green liquid into two small glasses. Placing a slotted spoon over each glass and adding a sugar cube, she poured a small bit of water into each glass. He saw the liquid turn milky white before she turned bringing the glasses to them. Cautiously Sam took a sip, not expecting the bitter taste. Looking over, he could see Dean unfazed as he drank.

“My mistress will be with you shortly.” The young woman smiled before leaving them alone.

“Why are we here Dean?” Sam asked as he took in the rest of their surroundings. The room was filled with rich furnishings, dark mahogany woods, a huge marble fireplace, satins, velvets and silks covered the walls and furniture. “Shamus told us time was of the utmost importance.”

“We need a few things before we leave. If anyone can help us, this is the place we need to be. I wired ahead and with any luck we will be right on schedule.” Dean replied hearing the door open.

Dean and Sam stood as the elderly woman entered the room. Now over seventy she must have been beautiful when she was young. Her skin the color of creamed coffee. Rich dark eyes that never missed a thing, and a smile that lit up a room.

Sam watched as Dean approached the woman. Taking her hands as he placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Hello, Marie.”

“Mon cher it has been too long. You have grown since you last graced my home.” Her dark eyes twinkled as she looked at the tall handsome man before her. “And you bring me another beauty to feast these old eyes on as well.” She teased watching Sam blush.

“Marie, I would like to present Samuel Richards.” Dean’s tone was full of affection. “Sam, I want you to meet the queen of New Orleans, Marie Laveau.”

Sam leaned down placing a kiss on each cheek just as Dean had done earlier. “It's my pleasure Ma’am.” He said, waiting for her to take a seat, before he and Dean sat down.

“Call me Marie, welcome to my home Samuel. There is much power in your name, it is old, biblical. You are destined to be great.” She watched as the two men exchanged a glance. “There is more,” she said as she took a tarot card from her table turning it to show them The Lovers. Seeing their discomfort, she continued looking at Dean. “I have made the arrangements you requested. And procured the items you asked for.”

Pointing to the bell pull she nodded to Dean, waiting for him to tug the small tapestry piece. Minutes later the young woman again entered the room. Marie whispered to the girl giving her a list of instructions.

“Your room is being prepared. You will stay here this evening. Your trunks have been sent to your room. Samuel, if you will follow Renee, she will show you to your room, where you can freshen up. I would like to speak to Dean.”

Sam stood. “It was a pleasure meeting you ma’am.. Marie.” Sam followed Renee from the room.

An hour later Dean was in their room. An occasional breeze kept the stifling heat at bay. Dean told him about Marie. She was known as the voodoo queen, and for a woman of color she was very influential in the city. Removing his boots and shirt Dean told Sam they had time for a nap before they would be called down for dinner. In the lazy afternoon heat they curled into one another before falling asleep.

It was close to sunset when a knock on the door woke them telling them dinner would be at the half hour. Both men washed the sleep from their eyes before dressing for dinner. Marie was waiting when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Mon cher,” A huge smile played across her face, “there are refreshments waiting for you in the courtyard.”

Jasmine and honeysuckle perfumed the hot, humid, night air as Sam and Dean stepped into the open courtyard. Candles illuminated the large square. A side table was topped with a large crystal decanter full of whiskey as well as an assortment of dishes, the spicy aroma making their mouths water.

Instinctively Dean knew they were not alone. He slowly released the derringer from his sleeve as he nodded for Sam to pour some whiskey. “A man could get shot trying to sneak up on someone.” Dean’s voice carried a hint of a smile. They watched as a lone figure stepped from the shadows.

“God, it’s good to see you son.” His dad’s deep voice was music to his ears. Within seconds he had closed the gap pulling Dean into a tight embrace. Stepping back Dean held his dad at arms length before his fist connected with his dad’s jaw sending him to the ground.

“Good to see you too, dad.” Dean said. “What are you doing here?”

Rubbing his jaw John looked up at his son. “Marie said you would be here. I wanted to see you.”

“You knew where I was. You could have come there. Last time I heard from you was a telegram telling me about a hunt for a black dog.” Dean glanced at Sam seeing the surprise in his eyes before he held out his hand to help his dad up.

Smiling, John took the proffered hand. As he got to his feet his dark eyes were drawn to the amulet that swung from around Dean’s neck. Reaching out he held it in his hand.

“Where the hell did you get that?” He demanded.

“Well, you should know. You’re the one who made the deal.” Dean’s voice was bitter.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t believe it son. Your mother was so desperate to have a baby. That’s the only reason I agreed.”

Sam handed Dean a glass before passing one to John as well. “Sam, this is my dad.”

“Sir it’s nice to meet you, Sam Richards.” Sam extended his hand. Dean could hear the nervousness in his lover’s voice as he took his place next to Sam.

“John Winchester.” Taking his hand John nodded his head towards Dean. “Is he…”

“The Seer? Yes. Part of another deal. Would you still have done it if you knew the price at the time? If you knew mom would die?”

“What are you talking about Dean?" John took a drink of the whiskey savoring the familiar burn. Your mother’s death was an accident. After your brother died she was never the same. There are things you don’t know.”

“Yeah, dad, you’re good at keeping secrets. Are you sure about mom? Sam’s parent’s died in a fire too.”

Dean saw the shocked look on is father’s face. He'd been angry, wanted to hurt him, but he immediately felt guilty.

Seeing the hurt on the older men’s faces, Sam broke in. “Let’s eat. Marie went to all this trouble. It will give you a chance to catch up and for us to become better acquainted, sir.” Sam grabbed a plate and started to fill it with a sampling of the excellent cuisine before sitting at the small table.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Dean and John took turns, much to Sam’s delight, telling stories of Dean’s childhood, each with their own version of events. John and Dean caught up with the past two years being apart. The whiskey flowed along with the conversation. It was well after midnight before the men said their goodnights.

Closed in the sanctuary of their room, Sam pulled Dean close against him. “Will Marie tell your father about us? I mean…well.”

Laying in Sam’s arms, Dean laid his head back against his shoulder. “No Sam. She doesn’t have to. He knows we’re lovers.”

“How do you know? Did he say something? Does it matter to him? I don’t know what my parents would have said. I mean, it’s not like we can tell just anyone.”

“I just know. He didn’t have to say anything. It might take a little time, but he’ll be fine with it Sam. It wouldn’t have mattered with your parents, they loved you. Now go to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”


Dean was down for breakfast early. The warm sweet beignets, and café au lait reminded him of when he was younger and first met Marie, she spoiled him against John‘s wishes. He turned as his father entered the large kitchen watching him smile and shake his head at his son’s choice.

John poured himself a cup of coffee before filling his plate with savory sausage and eggs. Sitting next to his son, the conversation was somewhat stilted avoiding the subject at hand. A few minutes later, they were joined by Sam, who placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder as he looked to see what was offered for breakfast. Self consciously he pulled back aware of John’s gaze. Taking a selection of both the sausage, the eggs, and the beignets he poured a cup of café au lait as well, before sitting down next to Dean.

John and Dean spent most of the morning together. Dean asking questions John didn’t have or was reluctant to answer. More than once Marie intervened between the two, before telling John she wanted to speak to Dean alone.

One thing John noticed was the change in his son. Dean was always a good hunter, one of the best, but now he seemed more complete. John could only imagine that was due to Sam being in his life. He was happier than John ever remembered.

John admitted to himself, he was worried. He never wanted this life for Dean. After all, he was his son. All these years he hoped it wasn’t true. That they could outrun Dean’s so called destiny. Seeing the amulet and Dean’s confirmation brought back too many painful memories.

Stepping into the courtyard John was surprised to find Sam sitting there. As Sam stood to leave he asked him to stay, telling him Dean was talking to Marie and would be awhile. Taking a seat, John took a little time to study the young man who meant so much to his son.


The day dragged on. They were all filled with nervous anticipation for what lay ahead.
The books Dean asked for were carefully packed along with the supplies between his and Sam’s trunks for their voyage. Marie had made arrangements for them to sail on a small steamship.

When it was approaching time to leave, Marie asked them to join her in the salon where John was already waiting.

“I have something for you.” Marie said as she handed Dean a small bag. “The gris gris will protect you. You will need all it holds in your journey ahead.” Kissing him and holding him tight she wished him luck. “I will see you when you return. Adieu, mon cher.”

“Samuel, I have prepared one for you as well. We will meet again.” With a quick hug and kiss she left them with John to say their goodbyes.

“Sir” Sam extended his hand to John who took it before he pulled him into a hug. “Be careful, watch his back Sam.” Sam’s hazel eyes filled with tears as he stepped back nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Pulling Dean close John held on. “Be careful son, you’re all I have. I can’t lose you.”

“You too, dad. I’ll see you when we get back.” Dean held tightly before letting go. With a sad smile he and Sam made their exit.

A short carriage ride later and they were at the docks Their trunks were taken aboard before they were shown to their small cabin. The room had two stacked berths, a desk, and two chairs. There trunks were placed in the corner, not leaving room for much else.

There were few passengers on the small steamship. With the time they saved turning south on the train, they would still arrive in Scotland on schedule. If Dean thought the train was confining then the ship was even more so. Most of their meals were taken with the captain, but occasionally, Dean with Sam in tow, would venture into the galley and spend his time with the crew.

The days were filled with hours pouring over the books, until they had to step on deck to feel the fresh ocean air. The nights were spent wrapped around one another on the too small berth trying to fill their insatiable desires.

**************

Shamus kept Sam company during his two days enforced bed rest. To the best of his ability and recollection Shamus informed him of the history of the previous Guardian and Seer. The Guardian had not survived the confrontation with the ancient evil he and Dean were to face. The Seer, his mate gone became a recluse. The secret organisation responsible for his continued care had taken him to the Scottish Isle of Mull. There he would live the rest of his life, protected by the Brothers.

Shamus visited only once and in all honesty was more that eager to leave. In truth the Seer gave the young Irishman the creeps. James was a young man whose hair literally turned white over night, through remorse, pain and grief. Remorse caused by his inability to fulfill his part in the prophecy. Pain, from the terrible life threatening injuries he received whilst trying to defeat the evil that had taken the Guardian from him. Several times the Brothers reported the Seer was near death. Each time responsibility for the next generation of Guardian and Seer pulled him back from the brink. Grief, mind numbing all encompassing grief caused by the loss of his partner had broken the man. Shamus understood the deep bond the Guardian and Seer shared. Had himself been touched by the same grief. Sean had been his older brother. Try as he might he could not prize the details of Sean's death from James. Shamus hugged the older man both shedding tears. Shamus for the loss of his brother and James for the loss of his lover.

The night before he was due to leave James approached him offering him an old walking stick. Shamus was intrigued wondering why James would want to give him the unremarkable walking stick, until he laid his hand on it. Blue light flared as if from within the very wood itself. Shamus cried out in fear trying to snatch his hand back but it was as if he was suddenly paralyzed. His mind was screaming at him to run, whilst his body was frozen in place unable to move. The blue light expanded moving up his arm and when it touched his shoulder and head he had fallen to the ground. When he woke he was lying on a bed, the amulet was resting against his chest and in his hand was a beautifully carved shillelagh. James explained the responsibilities that came with the role of caretaker. The life he would live, his duties to the next Seer and his eventual release from his duty once the new Seer and Guardian bonded.

Sam came to the conclusion during those two days Shamus was deliberately vague about some of his memories, but genuinely did not have answers for some of the questions he and Dean asked. Telling them James would be in a better position to help.

Whilst he spent many hours with Shamus, Dean organized the travel arrangements. Sam’s only input to insist upon paying for a private carriage. Justifying the expense by explaining the need for safety, comfort and privacy. Money was of little concern to Sam, as Dean would find out.

Whilst in Manhattan Sam sent several telegrams. Two went to London. The first was addressed to Wilkins the butler, at the home he still maintained in the capital, informing Wilkins of his arrival with a guest.

The second was to his tailor. Ruth managed to obtain Dean’s measurements, the artful woman pretended she was making a suit for Isaac as a surprise and would Dean mind her taking a few measurements because he and Isaac were of similar size.

Sam placed an order for evening and daywear both formal and informal, also accessories a gentleman might need for the summer season. All of Sam’s measurements were kept on file so ordering a new wardrobe was easy. He decided not to inform Dean about the new clothes until he had to.

The third went to an old friend George. Although he had not seen George in a while he was sure of a warm reception. His friend would be delighted to have company and if nothing else he felt sure he and Dean would be made welcome.

The fourth and final telegram was to his bank. He needed a letter of credit in case money became an issue whilst they traveled.

They both visited the lumber mill and selected the timber for the new ranch house. Isaac would oversee the building of their plans for their new home while they were away. New furniture, crockery, linen and all the and hundred and one other things that needed replacing ordered from catalogues. Sam would have liked to be there to supervise but there were more important things to take care of.

With as many of the arrangements made as possible they both boarded the train setting off on the first leg of their long journey. At least this time they would be able to stay together, now he had Dean back he was not letting him out of his sight.


One thing Sam liked about England, you could travel from one end of the country to the other in a couple of days. Unlike America where it would probably take weeks to get from one end to the other. Not that he was bored. Dean kept him on his toes, lessons in all things supernatural continued. Books were a source of enjoyment, research was a pleasure. Sam scoured all the books Dean and Shamus could lay their hands on. Somewhere in one of these books he hoped to find information on Baliazar.

Information that might shed some light on the prophecy, give them some clue as to his hiding place or better still how to kill him. So far it had been a fruitless search, hours and hours spent and nothing to show for it. The information they needed just wasn’t there.

Dean‘s little detour to New Orleans to visit an old acquaintance, Marie Laveau had been a blessing. The seventy year old was a delight and she had known Dean since a small boy. She was more than happy to help, scouring her vast library of ancient books and scrolls. Several dusty books were pulled from the shelves. Among them a much treasured copy of The Key of Solomon. Taking Sam to one side she told him the books were a gift and that the three of them would meet again.

Meeting Dean’s father came as a shock. Sam not knowing how to react to the man. For Dean’s sake he would be pleasant, would behave himself. Needing some time to himself he escaped to the courtyard, not wishing to intrude upon the time Dean spent with his father. Hearing footsteps he looked up, seeing John, he rose to leave. John telling him to stay. Dean was talking with Marie and would be a while. John took the other seat. Both seemingly lost in thought for a while.

Dean clearly loved and respected his father. A man whose legacy caused them both so much pain, so much heartache.

All Sam saw was the man who emotionally crippled his son to the point that he almost lost him

John was the first to break the silence, “So you’re the one?” John cast a leisurely eye over Sam from the top of his tousled chocolate brown hair to his boot clad feet. “Has my boy so distracted he doesn’t know if he’s coming or going?”

“Yes sir, that would be me.” Sam decided to return the stare. “So, you’re the one responsible for his state of mind?”

The two men stood sizing each other up, John cracking first, lowering his eyes and smiling. “How did he take the news?”

“Probably about the same as I did. Not nice to feel betrayed, manipulated. It's not nice being lied to by those you trust most. Your parents.” Sam kept his eyes locked on John’s. Unlike Dean he didn’t owe the man anything.

“What Mary and I did;” John’s head shot up, eyes cold, assessing. “Is none of your concern, besides it’s in the past.”

“Not for your son it's not.” Looking quickly about him Sam checked making sure they were not overheard. “Why did you do it? Why would you do that to a little boy? Why would you bring him up to think caring for someone is a weakness?”

“So, a few months in my son’s bed makes you an expert? You’ll never know all there is to know about Dean. He’ll always keep part of himself hidden from you. It’s what makes him the ideal hunter. The ability to shut everything else out to concentrate solely on the job.” John clenched his fists then made a conscious effort to relax them.

“You let your son grow up thinking all he was good for was hunting. That his own needs were of no importance.” Sam thrust his hands into his jacket pocket with enough force to strain the lining. For some insane reason he wanted to hit John, to make him pay, to make him hurt as Dean hurt.

“Hunting is in Dean’s blood; it’s what he’s good at, all he’ll ever be good at, it’s what he was created for. You’ll get him killed. He can kill this thing on his own. He doesn’t need you distracting him, filling his mind with crap. He’s better off the way he is, with no ties.”

“God you’re a piece of work! I heard what you said to him. I’m not going to let you turn him into a cold, lonely, bitter man like you. Because you’re Dean’s father and that reason alone if you ever wish to visit, you will be made welcome in our home. But if you ever… Ever try to interfere… well. Lets just leave it there shall we?”

John’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening, “You threatening me boy?” He said in a deceptively quiet voice.

“No sir. Just telling you how it will be. Dean’s mine. And I will protect him, from any and all threats.” Some how his hands escaped from his pockets and were now bunched at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms.

John threw back his head and roared with laughter Releasing the tension he felt since meeting the man his son had taken as a partner.

Sam didn’t know what to make of it. He stood there with a perplexed expression on his face.

Clapping Sam on the shoulder John said. “You’ll do.” He continued to laugh. “Yeah you’ll do. Dean said you were a handful and not to be deceived by your,” He gestured up and down with his hand, “looks. Come; let's find my son before he busts a gut wondering what we're doing to each other."

Later that night as they settled into the cramped little cabin that would be their home for a fortnight Dean questioned him, wanting to know what he and John talked about. Sam had been evasive and eventually Dean gave up.



A.N: Marie Laveau 1801-1881 African American voodoo queen renowned in New Orleans

Tags: angst, horror, nc-17, slash

Title: Dark Riders 2 Storm Warning
Authors: ForsakenBeloved
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Ratings: NC 17/adult
Warnings: Slash/Angst/Violence/Wincest/Au
Disclaimer: Don’t Belong To Us
Summary: Sam follows Dean to his ranch in the flint hills of Kansas. When disaster strikes, will an ancient prophecy and a pact made by their parents before they were born, bring them closer together, or tear them apart?
Status: Complete. Posting weekly
Word Count: 38630 APROX
A/N: Thank you to all the readers who have asked about a second story. Well here it is, hope it does not disapoint. The story is complete and will be posted once a week [or you ask real nice and then we might post sooner lol] This is the second in a series of stories that follow Dean and Sams adventures.
A big thank you to Louy for the awesome banner thanks mate, you rock!
Previous story DARK RIDERS can be found here http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/

Storm Warning Chapter 1 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
Storm Warning Chapter 2 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2808.html
Storm Warning Chapter 3 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/3113.html
Storm Warning Chapter 4 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/05/17/
Storm Warning Chapter 5 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/3774.html
Storm Warning chapter 6 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/3981.html
Storm Warning chapter 7 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/4221.html
Storm Warning Chapter 8 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/06/13/
STORM WARNING CHAPTER 9 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/2008/06/21/
STORM WARNING CHAPTER 10 http://forsakenbeloved.livejournal.com/4956.html
STORM WARNING CHAPTER 11
AUTHORS NOTE - THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER OF STORM WARNING. DARKR RIDERS STORY 3 HONORE ET AMORE. WILL BE POSTED SHORTLY AND WILL FOLLOW DEAN AND SAM TO ENGLAND AND A FINAL SHOWDOWN WITH BALIAZAR.

“Jesus, Dean, I can't get my head round all of this can you? It’s too much to take in.”

“I can't believe it. God, I need some air.” Dean leaned his back against the closed door.

Sam looked up a little worried, “You’re going out?”

Walking back to the bunk Dean grabbed his boots, "No, we're going out” Dean picked up Sam's boots, handing them to him, he asked, "Need some help?"

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, my back’s a bit sore.”

Trying to be careful Dean helped Sam put his boots on, then reaching his hand down he pulled Sam up.

“Where are we going? Don’t think I’m up for a long walk,” holding onto Dean’s hand he rubbed his thumb over the warm flesh. Craving the feel of skin against skin even if only for a few seconds.

"Think you can manage a short ride?" Dean asked placing his arm around Sam's waist letting him lean on him for support.

Not wanting to disappoint him Sam agreed, “Yeah, I think so,” though privately he wondered if he would be able to. Merlin would be eager to run after not being ridden for a while and would probably pull like a train.

They made their way slowly to the door. Once outside Dean made Sam sit on the old bench. “Wait here, I'll get Blaze.”

Could it be possible that what Shamus said was true that they had been destined to be together? Sam thought back to the first time he had seen Dean. It was strange but there had been an instant attraction even if he had not fully understood it at the time. Watching the handsome retreating figure Sam knew he would move heaven and earth to keep him.


Dean hoped as he walked to the corral that he was doing the right thing. He had to be careful of Sam's injury. He just couldn't stay here for now. He didn't want to see anyone but Sam; he wasn't ready to share him, especially with Shamus. Blaze trotted up to meet him, he was as eager as Dean to get away. Dean made short work of putting on the bridle, pulling affectionately on the soft black ears, “Hello, you handsome black devil. Gonna take me an Sammy for a ride an you better behave, otherwise you’ll be missing a few vital stallion parts.”

Merlin feeling a bit left out butted Dean in the back with his large head. “Sorry, boy, but Sam’s not up to taking you out yet,” he scratched the soft pink nose then pushed the large horse away from the gate so he and Blaze could leave.

It didn't take long for Dean to return leading Blaze by his reins. “If I push the bench over, do you think you can climb up behind me?” With a wink, he teased, "You think you can hold on?”

Sam smiled as he realized what Dean had been planning “Sure, no problem.”

Dean pushed the bench to the edge, helping Sam step up he waited to make sure it wouldn’t tip over. Grabbing the reins and using the steps Dean swung his leg over Blaze’s broad back before he guided him as near to the bench as he could, waiting for Sam to climb behind him.

Carefully seating himself, Sam wrapped his arms tightly round Dean’s slim waist molding himself to the warm body. He was so aware of Dean’s frame in front of him. God, this was going to be torture.

“Hold on tight, Sammy, wouldn’t want to lose you now.” Dean told him as Blaze started a slow walk. Dean loved the feel of Sam’s embrace. He had missed the closeness they had shared before he let his foolish pride get in the way of everything.

All thoughts of the conversation they’d just had and the pain from his back disappeared The gentle back and forth flex of hips was playing havoc with Sam’s self control, he could already feel his jeans getting uncomfortably tight and he knew that Dean would be able to feel the hard bulge pressed against his lower back.

Dean could feel warm breath against his neck, and could feel Sam’s hardness through the heavy fabric of his jeans. This was going to be a shorter ride than he had planned. He guessed he wasn’t the only one who had missed being together. Turning Blaze he headed for the nearest pond.

Sam felt himself getting increasingly turned on; his questing fingers sought and found the buttons to Dean’s shirt, undoing enough to slip his hand in to lay against his lover’s quivering stomach muscles. He heard Dean suck in a sharp breath as his fingers found and gently pinched a nipple. Loosening Dean’s belt with his other hand and undoing the buttons, Sam slipped a hand slowly inside, surprised to find Dean naked under his jeans, his eager hand closing round silk clad steel. Dean moaned, his head falling back to rest against Sam’s shoulder affording a wonderful expanse of neck to feast on. Wiping his thumb over the crown collecting the escaping fluid he removed his hand from Deans jeans, pushing his thumb into Dean’s panting mouth. At the same time he latched onto the soft skin of his neck gently nipping and sucking,. Dean mirroring his actions with his thumb. Groaning against the heated skin trapped between his teeth Sam ground his erection against Dean’s back. Quickly removing his thumb Sam once again grasped Dean’s hot heavy erection squeezing and pulling in time to the gentle sway of his hips and the horses’ movements. Feeling the now familiar tingle up his spine Sam bit hard into Dean’s shoulder as he exploded in his jeans, feeling Dean arch back against him as he came coating Sam’s hand and his own stomach before going limp in Sam’s arms

Dean hadn’t been expecting Sam’s actions. Not that he really minded but this wasn’t exactly the place he planned on being when they were together again. Dean shuddered as Sam’s long fingers stroked him finding the perfect rhythm. He felt a warm tongue glide over his neck where moments before teeth had nipped at the sensitive skin. God, he had missed Sam’s touch. He almost jumped when Sam’s thumb brushed over the head of his aching cock. Sam pushed his thumb up to Dean’s mouth. He could taste himself as he licked and sucked before gently biting down. This was a first; he had never experienced anything like this before. Between Sam’s fingers and Blaze’s motion it wasn’t long before Dean could feel his control start to slip away. He could hear Sam’s breath hitch and knew that Sam was as close as he was. A few more strokes of Sam’s knowing fingers and Dean couldn’t take any more before he was spilling over Sam’s tight fist. Spent Dean collapsed against Sam.

“God, Dean, we should do this more often,” Sam’s breathing gradually slowed “Merlin’s turn next time.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “Damn, Sam, I was just planning on a little fresh air and talking. I know it’s been awhile, but I wasn’t expecting that. Not saying I didn’t like it, cause I did. But Merlin’s gonna have to wait.”

“All joking aside, what do you make of what was said?” he tucked Dean in, and rebuttoned his jeans. “I mean, do you even believe any of it?”

"With everything I've seen, I know anything is possible. I've heard about deals being made all the time. I just never figured I was one of them."

“Not just you, Dean, if we’re to believe Shamus, then both our lives were planned even before we were born.”

As they approached the pond, Dean's mind raced. He knew Sam was thinking some of the same things. He waited for Sam to slide down before he slid down next to him. Walking to the water’s edge, he leaned down and washed his hands, wiping them on his jeans to dry them. Standing he waited as Sam did the same, holding out his hand to help him up.

Picking what looked like a comfy spot on the grass Sam eased himself down. So many thoughts raced through his mind clambering for attention but one in particular would not be ignored. Were the feelings they had for each other genuine or manufactured to suit a higher purpose?

Sitting next to Sam, Dean knew what was foremost on Sam's mind. "I don't care what they say, I know how I feel about you. Nothing, no plans, no destiny, had anything to do with that."

His too expressive face must have betrayed his fears because Sam found himself listening to the answer to his unspoken question. “How can you be sure, Dean, I mean how can we be sure of anything? How do we know we’re not still being manipulated? Look what happened when you tried to leave. If Shamus is to be believed, my getting sick was no accident.”

“I refuse to believe it. Do you believe Shamus or Ruth or Isaac created the tornado? He said we’re all human. If it were destiny it would have been easy. There was nothing easy about what we’ve been through. Do you doubt how you feel about me?”

“I’m as sure as I can be that what I feel for you is genuine, but how can we know for sure?” Drawing up his legs Sam hugged his knees, sighing, “At the end of the day does it even matter, as long as it’s real to us?”

Nudging Sam’s shoulder, Dean grinned, “So if it’s all planned then from now on everything between us should be smooth sailing. You honestly believe that? I’m just going to fall into line and no more arguing, or being selfish, or anything else. Come on, Sam, you know me better than that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Hey, I was just thinking... if I get the visions d’you get something too? I mean it’s hardly fair, I get blinding headaches and you get what? A necklace?”

“I know I’m right.” With a leer, Dean raised his eyebrow, “Besides I know how to make you feel better. And I got a knife. I don’t know how this works. Never been part of destiny before.”

Sam could feel the huge smile spreading across his face "Yes, you do know me. As for destiny, guess Shamus can tell us what we need to know."

“After everything you still trust him?” Dean asked. “We should have been told. How could they stand by and let all those things happen? How many lies have we been told? To think our parents did this to us. Now he just walks in here and says it‘s up to us to save mankind.”

“They lied by omission. God, Dean, I don't want to have to think about all of this. I want to remember my parents as they were, loving and kind, not making deals that would involve me in Christ knows what.”

“I’m happy for you, Sam that you can do that, but I can’t. Maybe if I had the life you had, I could too, but I didn’t. What about your dreams to rebuild the ranch?”

“I said I'd like to remember them like that, but I'm scared that all I'll ever remember is how they lied to me. How they lied to both of us.”

Standing, Dean reached out to help Sam up. “Come on, we need to get you back. I know we’re going to have to hear what Shamus has to say, but not until you’re ready to talk to him.” Taking Sam’s face in his hand Dean looked into his eyes. “Sammy, I know your parents loved you, there‘s no way they couldn‘t.”

*************************************************************************************

Ruth busied herself around the small cabin kitchen. She had hoped that the conversation with the boys could have waited a bit longer. She had grown so fond of both of them. The look of hurt and betrayal in Dean’s eyes had been almost too much to bear. She looked over at the table where Isaac and Shamus were sitting, and knew they were feeling the same.

“Well we made a fine mess of that,” she said, close to tears.

Shamus settled himself in an armchair, reaching into an inner jacket pocket he drew out a small wooden pipe and leather tobacco pouch. Opening the small pouch he proceeded to fill his pipe, Shamus always did his best thinking while smoking. Lighting his pipe he sat back, soon filling the small cabin with the smell of pipe tobacco. “O, ‘tis a shame for sure They’ll get over it. Wee Sam’s not one to bear a grudge for long.” Frowning he added “Not too sure about that young ejit!

Getting up Isaac walked to the stove pulling his wife into a tight embrace, waiting for her to compose herself. Once Ruth had settled Isaac poured three cups of coffee setting them on the table, before he and Ruth rejoined Shamus. “You’re going to have to talk to Sam. Dean’s not going to listen to us.”

Hearing voices Shamus walked to the window, sending up small puffs of smoke like a miniature steam train. “I’ll be having a talk with them both when they get back from their little jaunt.” Shamus watched almost enviously as Dean helped Sam to mount the big black horse. Finally acknowledging that his role of caretaker was over, the position more than ably filled, if Ruth and Isaac were to be believed, by the young man sitting in front.

“He’s not an idiot, Shamus. We know you were worried about Sam but we feel the same way about Dean. He can hold a grudge.” Ruth chided.

“Don’t be fooled by the country gentleman, butter wouldn’t melt on the image the lad projects. Young Sammy can be a holy terror and a devious little shite when he’s a mind.
What’s he like, this new guardian? Looks capable enough, but what’s he like inside what makes him tick?”

Know you’re enemy Shamus, m’lad, if he was to convince the boys he would need all the information he could get his hands on.

“He’s more than capable. Dean’s had a hard life. After Mary’s death, John took the boy and they just drifted for a few years. We would hear things from time to time. He taught Dean to hunt when he was still a boy. He’s done what he had to in order to survive. He’s a proud man, Shamus. He believes in what he does. He will be a good Guardian.” Ruth said with pride for the young man.

“In his own way John prepared him for what was to come.” Isaac added. “What we had to do was easy compared to what they will be facing. We still have to help make sure they’re ready.”

“How’s Sam’s training coming along? He’s a natural with horses and books. And a quick study when properly motivated. Regretfully, I was hindered in the lad’s preparation by his ma, a very strong-willed lass. Determined she was that her son have a normal childhood.”

Shamus smiled at an almost forgotten memory of Sarah, with her pale skin, blue eyes, and red hair, she was a real beauty. But as her coloring would suggest she had a temper to match it. Young Sam had followed him like a young puppy, his gentle manner a gift when working with horses. But it was his thirst for knowledge that got the pair of them in trouble. Sam had asked about the old shillelagh and seizing the opportunity Shamus had started teaching him the ancient art of Irish stick fighting. Trouble was that he forgot that all young children liked to show off….especially if they had an audience.

Wee Sam had picked his moment, unfortunately in front of a wealthy potential buyer. He’d carefully sized up his opponent the unwitting carrier of a cane and challenged the man to hit him. Playing along, the unfortunate man had ended up on the end of the “jig kick” an illegal, well if there were rules and it was a fighting competition, move that blocked the attacker’s move then disabled him with a swift kick between the legs. Needless to say, Sarah had not been amused. The young lass had no need for a stick. Her tongue was all the weapon she needed, the lashing he received had him ducking for cover for several days.

“Sam has trained very hard. He still has more work to do. Dean’s a good teacher, but he’s a bit overly protective of Sam. Dean will follow Sam. It’s more than the bond.”
Ruth said as she refilled their cups. “You have plenty of tricks up your sleeve, Shamus, the time has come for you to share them. They‘re going to need all the help they can get.”

Laughing, Isaac looked at his old friend, “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. You have two very angry young men, who still have a lot of questions. You’re going to have to watch your temper. We know you love Sam like he’s your own, but Sam’s not so easily influenced anymore. He made his choice as well.”


Ruth watched with amusement as Shamus looked around for someplace to empty his pipe. “Shamus, I let you smoke that in my home, but don’t be leaving your ashes all over the place. Take that outside. There’s plenty of room to empty it there.”

With a rueful grin he stood up, shite the woman was house-proud. He wondered how Isaac ever slipped anything past her. Perhaps he didn’t.

To say that he was dreading what he must do next was an understatement. Sam had been a constant companion almost from the moment he was born. He’d watched, encouraged, played with, and comforted the lad for all his life. To see that role now taken by another was a bitter sweet moment. Even the knowledge that he himself had pushed Sam in the right direction to find Dean was not really helping. Ruth and Isaac had been able to allay some of his fears as to Dean’s suitability. They were good honest folk and he should trust their judgment.

But still there was that nagging doubt, it wasn’t that he disliked the lad, he didn’t know him well enough to do that. Dean was an unknown quantity. Perhaps the lad would grow on him, he hoped he would. Sam clearly loved him and he owed it to Sam to at least try to get along with Dean. His inner voice chose that moment to make itself known “you’re a silly old fool Shamus Patrick O’Reilly tis bloody jealous you are.”

“Shut up,” Shamus muttered to himself. His right hand unconsciously sought out the knobbed head of his stick as it had for many years. Cursing under his breath he snatched his hand back stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He felt naked with out its protection, as if a part of himself was missing, its absence a further reminder, if he needed one that he was no longer Sam’s protector.

He remembered the moment he’d laid his shillelagh, on the sleeping man; remembered thinking to himself that it was like losing a friend. A part of him, a small very selfish part hoped that it would reject the slumbering man before him. But it had not. The amulet and knife had accepted Dean as the rightful Guardian. The knife would only reveal itself and transform in the presence of the true guardian. Even to Shamus the knife had only ever been his trusty old shillelagh.

*************************************************************************************

By the time the bunkhouse came into sight, Dean could tell how tired Sam was. He was slumped against his back, head laid on his shoulder. He was pretty sure Sam was nearly asleep. Making for the bunkhouse Dean waited as Sam got down before he slid from Blaze’s back. Helping Sam inside to the bunk, he made sure Sam was comfortable before telling him he would be back as soon as Blaze had been taken care of. Once outside Dean grabbed the reins as he led the stallion to the corral.

Opening the gate Dean walked into the corral. It only took a few minutes before the bridle was taken off. “Life was easier when you were the only one I had to talk to. You’d listen and never talk back. We need to get you a barn built.”

Opening the cabin door to dispose of his pipe ash Shamus saw his opportunity to make his peace. “That’s a fine horse ya have there.” His knowledgeable eyes roamed over the black horse.

“Thanks,” Dean said with pride. He appreciated the compliment. Sam had told him what an excellent horseman Shamus was. If Sam’s skills were a tribute to the Irishman, then the man truly had a way with horses.

Closing the gate behind him, Shamus felt warm breath against his ear followed by a nudge in the back. Turning round he came face to muzzle with a beautifully spotted leopard appaloosa. “This cheeky wee chap Sam’s?” he rubbed the soft nose, swallowing the painful lump in his throat when he thought of the loss of the beautiful horses that had been his life’s work.

“His name’s Merlin. The first time I saw Sam he made a bet with his owner that he could train him. I spent most of the day watching them. I had never seen anyone do that before. He told me how you taught him.” Dean smiled at the memory and how he had taken a page from Shamus’ book when it came to Sam himself. “When Sam was down with the fever he said your ship was sunk. Said you and all the horses drowned. How did you survive?”

“Instinct bo…Dean, do you trust it?” Shamus watched the back in front of him stiffen and the hand cease it’s careful brushing of the ebony coat.

Dean could feel the tension, he didn‘t want to argue, but to be reminded of his life, his “destiny” was almost too much right now. He was still angry. Taking a deep breath he replied. “I’ve had to live by my instincts since I was a kid. Lives depended on what I did.”

“Good! A man after me own heart. Because it’s instincts that have kept me alive. Instinct that made me catch an earlier boat. Instinct is what will keep you and Sam alive, that and the visions.” He continued the comforting stroking of the soft spotted coat. “Work with me Dean? We both love the same person, admittedly in different ways.” He couldn’t resist a sly wink. “Try ta meet me half way even if it’s only ta save Sam’s feelings.”

Dean felt himself blush at Shamus’ words. What he and Sam had would always have to be kept a secret. But now, at least here they wouldn’t have to hide it. “I will do whatever I have to in order to protect Sam and keep him alive. Or I’ll die trying.” Dean extended his hand, “I’ll try for Sam’s sake.”

“Well can’t ask for more. Come lad there’s much I have ta tell you and Wee Sammy. He hates me calling him that, but I can’t resist. One o the simple pleasures in life, teasing Sam.”
Finishing up with Blaze, Dean and Shamus walked towards the bunkhouse. Smiling Dean thought to himself, he couldn’t agree more, teasing Sam was one of many pleasures. Maybe he could find common ground with Shamus after all. Opening the door he allowed the little Irishman to enter first. Dean walked to the table pouring three shots of whiskey, handing one to Shamus, before heading over to Sam’s bunk. Dean sat on his own bunk letting Shamus sit next to Sam.

Seating himself down Shamus cast a fatherly eye over Sam. He was pleased to note some colour had returned to his face. Christ he felt awkward, so much would rest on the shoulders of these two young men. And depending how he handled the next few minutes would determine whether he would be believed or kicked out on his backside.
“How ya feeling Sammy, ready for a wee chat?”

Re-positioning himself so that he could face his old friend Sam lent forward pulling Shamus into a fierce hug. Closing his eyes he breathed in the familiar and comforting smell of pipe smoke. “God it’s so good to see you.” Sitting up he held onto his friend, drinking in the time worn craggy features he’d adored since a child. “Well as you can see I’m feeling a lot better, so I suppose we had better have that talk you promised us.” His eyes drifted to Dean, surprised and relieved to find the earlier animosity had gone.

“The knife and the amulet that you now own are part of an ancient prophecy. Sacrifice, Death and Resurrection. The two of you, Dean the Guardian and you Sam the Seer must defeat an ancient evil. Ta aid you both you have been given certain gifts. Dean the Amulet will hide you and by means of your close relationship you will also hide Sam from its searching Eyes. Make no mistake here, if your relationship falters Sam will be exposed and you will be found.”

Dean rubbed the smooth metal of the amulet between his fingers. When he woke up with it around his neck he could feel the power vibrate through it. He didn’t know what part it played in Sam’s recovery and he wasn’t willing to risk Sam’s life. That’s why he didn’t remove it. In his bones he knew it was connected to Sam in some way.

“The Knife is the only weapon on earth that can kill it. I carried it for many years as an old fighting stick, knowing that it would only reveal itself when in the possession of the Guardian, you Dean must never be without it for ta lose it would be unthinkable.”

“Sam, as the Seer you have received the gift of vision. This evil walks among us, you are the only one who can see through its disguise and recognize it for what it really is. Your visions will guide the two of you and together you must kill it.”

Shamus waited for the barrage of questions that were bound to come, knowing that for some at least he would have no answer.

Pulling the knife from its ancient leather sheath Dean turned it over in his hands. It was beautiful. He had never seen such workmanship. The handle was engraved with runes and symbols. Some familiar, some he had never seen before. The six inch blade had been finely honed; it was also engraved in a language Dean did not recognize. “Do you know what it says?” He asked as he passed it to Shamus.

“See Dean, there’s a wee problem, its not that I ’m being evasive. I don’t have the answers and it’s going ta involve a journey ta get the answers.” Shamus waited for the expected explosion he felt sure would be coming his way.

“I thought you knew. Sam said your stick had the same runes. You’ve had it for years, what’s different?” Dean hated not having answers. “A journey? Can you tell us where or don’t you know that either? “

“Its back home isn’t it?” Sam looked earnestly at Shamus. “I have to take Dean back home, to Scotland and then to the stones.” flashes of a half remembered dream floated just out of reach. Frowning he tried to hang on to the wisps of receding memories but it was no good, the harder he tried the faster they seemed to retreat. Finally thumping the bed in frustration he gave up.

“Yes lad, you’ll need to find the last Seer he’ll be the one ta answer your questions. But you need ta be quick we‘re running out of time. The beast will have sensed the passing of power and he‘ll be looking for you. He’ll do whatever it takes ta stop you.”

“You say it’s an ancient evil. You called it the beast. Do you know what it is?” Dean looked between the two men. “And you’re telling me we have to go to England.”

“Tis all your nightmares and fears rolled into one, and yes, Sammy, you get ta go home.”

finis

Thank you to all of our readers and especially those of you who took the time and trouble to review. Well Riders 2 Storm Warning has come to an end , we hoped you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed writing it and sharing it with all of you.
join us in the final story HONORE ET AMORE which we will post shortly.
Many thanks C & L forsakenbeloved

Tags: angst, au, horror, nc-17