Well, I've made some progress on Chapter 2... though I think it's in need of more development.... but I'm getting desperate to not let it languish any longer & I'm having problems loading into fanfiction.com so here goes:

Strange Bedfellows Chapter 2 October 13, 2007


While Sam was checking through the cabin to see what supplies he and Dean needed, Victor and his grandmother had shared a pleasant lunch in the dining hall . Once finished, Victor decided that a leisurely walk would be a nice treat for his grandmother. It was early afternoon and the sky was a vibrant blue with nary a cloud to found. Victor slowly pushed his grandmother's wheelchair through the stately grounds, enjoying the rich colors and intoxicating scents coming from the many garden beds. Formerly a privately run TB sanitarium from an era when it was believed that patients needed to be completely isolated from the general population and would benefit from as much fresh air as possible, the nursing home is nestled in a fairly remote site out in the countryside. This visit has been pleasant and Victor hoped that his grandmother's condition would improve enough that he could take her back to their old hometown for the holidays. The care here was first rate, but its location is so far away from the people that she had known all her life that she received few visitors. This had to be difficult for a woman whose home had always been open to friends and fellow parishioners. The best Christmas present that Victor could give her would be time spent in the company of friends. Maybe he could swing a way to bring some folks out for an occasional visit. He'd have to think on that for awhile.


Their afternoon stroll was interrupted by a call on his agency cell phone. Even off duty, Victor kept it on, set to vibrate, in case his office needed to get in touch. Pulling the phone from deep inside his pocket, Victor wondered how married agents managed to maintain a personal life; but then again, considering the divorce rate among enforcement personnel, maybe they didn't have any more success than he did.


Making sure than his grandmother was still warmly covered with her afghan, Victor stepped a short distance from her and, facing away, answered his phone. "Special Agent Hendrickson here. And it had better be a damn good reason for you to be calling me here."


Victor allowed himself a satisfied smile as one of his field office's junior agents started to stammer out a barely coherent explanation, but the smile vanished, replaced by a feral snarl, as he learned that there had been a confirmed sighting of the Winchester brothers in South Bend, Indiana the previous day. Damn! Victor experienced a rush of conflicting emotions. Elated at the break and chance of catching up with Dean and his brother, Victor simultaneously cursed the timing that not only would make him need to disappoint his grandmother, but also came when he was so far away from both his office and the quarry. He was a good two hour drive from the closest airport which was another two or three hour flight away from South Bend. And that was assuming he could even get a direct flight, which it turned out he couldn't, though he did manage to talk his way into a seat on a flight that would take him to Indianapolis. His team would figure out a way to pick him up from there.


Finished with making his arrangements, Victor pocketed his phone and took his grandmother back to her room. She didn't fuss when he explained that he had to leave, but he could swear that she was holding back tears. Promising his grandmother that he'd make up for his short visit, Victor gave her a kiss and hug before leaving her room and heading for the airport. He'd never even gotten a chance to unpack his bags from the trunk of the rental car, so there was no need to swing into town and pick up anything; just a quick call to cancel his room reservation.


Arriving at the airport, Victor used his credentials to blast through the check in process, impatient to
get to his destination and move in on his quarry. He had spent part of the long drive getting updates from his team and was pleased that the operation was moving forward smoothly in his absence, even though there were no further sightings of either Dean or Sam. What they were doing in South Bend was anyone's guess. Victor hoped they would get them into custody before the body count grew any higher.


Things seemed to be going well until Victor looked out the terminal window and got his first look at his flight. His FBI credentials may have gotten Victor through the security lines and onto a flight, but they didn't give him the pull to redirect a commercial flight, so he had to settle for the first flight available, which was the small commuter plane sitting out on the tarmac. Obviously owned by some bush league small time operator, it wasn't even a jet; how sad was that? Gritting his teeth, he realized that he hadn't been in prop plane since he was a kid and the air turbulence had bounced the small craft around so much that he had puked his guts out. Damn! Not one of his fonder memories.


Victor would just have to endure it, because truth to tell, the Bureau considered the Winchesters to be small fish to fry and he and his team had at least a dozen more cases of equal or greater importance. Despite the seriousness of the charges against them, they were still only unproven charges and without convictions or definite links to national security risks, the Winchester investigation would have to be conducted using normal channels and methods. His immediate supervisor, however, valued Victor and his dedication to the job, so he was allowed a degree of freedom with the understanding that it was a privilege not to be abused. As long as Victor produced results, his office would smooth the ruffled feathers that resulted from his less than tactful methods.


Much to Victor's relief the flight was uneventful to their first destination and he remained seated as about half the passengers exited the plane and he was able to once again use his phone to contact his team and apprise them of his location and get whatever updates were available. The plane would be taking off for Indianapolis within the hour and a Bureau helicopter would be waiting there to pick him up. "That was more like it.", Victor thought to himself smugly and he continued with his briefing.


Completely unaware of the FBI's activities, Sam Winchester stood in a mostly empty grocery store parking lot glaring at the Impala. It was wonder that the car's paint wasn't smoking and curling from the heated looks that Sam kept sending its way. If Sam didn't fear Dean's retaliation, he would have kicked it, he was that mad and frustrated. Why this? Why now? After pooling together their available cash, Sam had left Dean getting some much needed sleep while he drove into the small nearby town to pick up what supplies he could find. And he had to admit, the local grocery did carry a pretty good range of items, even if they were a little higher priced than Sam had hoped; and he was able to get most of what he wanted and everything he really needed.


That wasn't the problem. The problem that had Sam giving the Impala his patented daggers of death glares was that once Sam had finished loading the supplies into the car and gotten behind the wheel, turning the key in the ignition hadn't produced the usual rumble and roar of the engine. In fact, it hadn't produced even as much as a click.... just silence. Considering that there had been nothing wrong with the car on the drive into town and Dean kept the Impala in perfect running condition, Sam felt betrayed by this sudden and unexpected turn of events. He dreaded having to call Dean to explain why not only he wasn't on his way back to the cabin, but he was stuck in the parking lot waiting for the local garage mechanic to show up and either solve the problem or tow the car back to his shop. Damn! So much for not using the credit cards. Maybe he'd luck out and it was just a loose wire or something simple like that. Though he had opened the hood earlier and, after a moment of blankly staring at the offending engine, gingerly tested whatever connections he could readily see and had come up with nothing. "Typical Winchester luck.", he thought glumly.

I am taking forever again on getting words on paper.... or keystrokes on screen..... whatever.... lol
so I thought I'd post this in chapters just to get things kicked loose.


Strange bedfellows:

The morning light filtered softly through gauzy curtains, lending an air of serenity to the room. Seated in a comfortable stuffed armchair by the window, an elderly black woman stares blankly at the opposite wall, her thin, gnarled hands fussing gently with the knitted afghan covering her lap and legs as if anxious to take up some unnamed task. The walls are covered with a pastel, flowered wallpaper that blends nicely with the floral pattern of the chair and the neatly made up bed in the corner. A vase filled with fresh flowers sits on the bed stand and the soft playing of gospel hymns in the background adds to the feeling of peace and tranquility.

A second chair faces the old woman and is occupied by her grandson, FBI Special Agent Victor Hendrickson. Since her crippling stroke the previous year his grandmother has been confined to this well run nursing facility; one that actually exceeded his exacting standards. Half blind from various medical problems and now slowly recovering from the effects of the stroke, she has good days and bad days. But she had raised Victor after his preacher father & his mother were killed in a car crash and he visits whenever he can, good days or not, taking her for fresh air outside on the grounds in nice weather or just sitting with her in her room and chatting away.

It was little enough compared to what he felt he owed her. With the exception of some distant cousins that he had only met once or twice as a child, she was the only family he had. Only nine when his parent's car was struck by escaping bank robbers in a stolen getaway car, Victor could trace his interest in law enforcement to that life altering event.

This is one of her better days, though she's hardly said a word since he arrived; and the CD that they are listening to is a new one he had just brought her, filled with her favorite hymns. The staff was very good about ensuring that she had music to listen to throughout the day and had mentioned that she seemed to respond best to hearing the old time gospel songs, hardly surprising for the wife and mother of Baptist ministers. Amazing Grace is currently playing in the background and she starts to sing along in a soft, whispery voice. Victor decided right then that it was definitely worth the hours it had taken to track down the recordings and then get one of the wiz kid computer geeks that worked in his field office to "burn" them onto the CD for him after work in exchange for a large pizza with the "works". Kids. Victor's stomach still churned at the thought of that pizza. Call him a purist, but no one was ever going to convince him that tropical fruits had any business being on a pizza.

Victor resumes talking to her, continuing his abridged version of what he had been doing since his last visit. Pursuit of the Winchester brothers is at the top of his list and his voice grows more and more passionate as he recounts his, thus far, fruitless efforts to locate the brothers. Their seemingly miraculous escape from the Green County jail was infuriating, and Victor didn't think Dean would make another rookie mistake anytime soon. He'd hardly believed his luck the first time around, not after Dean and Sam had dropped off the map for months following the bank job in Milwaukee. His grandmother looked pensive and she suddenly spoke aloud in a surprising clear and unslurred manner, " The Lord has such mysterious ways, and it's so hard to keep to the path. But He never gives His chosen ones more than they can bear."

"Now, Granny," Victor laughed," since when did you start thinking that I'm that special?"

"Oh, you're special, child. And the Lord knows what a good man you are; but I'm not talking here about you, boy." And with that she once more lapsed into silence, except for her contented humming along with the hymns.

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

Two states over from where Victor is visiting his grandmother, Dean & Sam arrive at a remote cabin, one of many that their father had used over the years. Unused except during the fall hunting season, its location on the private land of a grateful family that John Winchester had saved from a violent poltergeist back when the brothers were still young made it an ideal spot to lay low for awhile.

Both brothers are bruised and battered, but Dean is the more seriously injured. Their chasing down of the demon army had been put on hold while they dealt with a particularly nasty poltergeist that had taken up residence in a rowhouse. During their attempt to oust the unwanted intruder, the poltergeist had brought down a section of ceiling right on top of Dean before he managed to place the last ward that finally banished it from the place. The commotion had attracted the neighbors' attention and the boys fled before the police could arrive, with Sam grabbing an armload of towels to staunch the blood flow as best he could until they reached a safe haven. Dean's left shoulder had caught the brunt of the collapsing ceiling supports and Sam was forced to do quite a bit of suturing to patch all the lacerations caused by the falling debris. Their stash of medical supplies had been running low and this pretty much finished it off. A fifth of cheap whiskey from the trunk of the car served as anesthetic while Sam carefully patched up his brother.

Dean endured Sam's ministrations silently, interrupting the process with periodic swigs from the fifth when things got a little too uncomfortable. He felt so worn and tired and was grateful for this chance to just sit and do nothing. He was doubly grateful that Sam was giving him some space.... not hovering over him or haranguing him about what he felt needed to be done.... just quietly tending their hurts in a matter of fact manner.

Ever since Sam figured out that Dean had summoned the cross roads demon and traded his soul for Sam's life, payment due in one year's time, Sam had fluctuated between deep concern for his brother and total outrage at the cost of the deal. Or maybe it was that he felt both ways simultaneously, with one or the other emotion gaining the upper hand. At the same time, Dean was undergoing his own turmoil, wanting to live it up in his few remaining months and find anyway he could to not think beyond the moment that the debt for Sam's life would be collected. And of course, neither brother's behavior was in sync with the other... so neither could address their issues. So they continued this strange dance.

However, even when he raged about Dean's behavior and seeming indifference about his fate, Sam had slowly grown more and more solicitous of his big brother. No longer could he take anything for granted about Dean. He didn't dare; because he knew all too well that in spite of his best efforts to save Dean, he still might fail. Sam knew that he owed Dean so much and he needed to ensure that Dean got the best year possible under the circumstances. It was only a drop in bucket compared to what he owed Dean, but it was a start. He desperately wanted to see Dean fight back, this "new" Dean was so unlike the brother he was sure he knew so well. If Sam had felt frustrated when Dean seemed to accept his death so easily after his accidental electrocution while killing the rawhead, he was now finding whole new levels of frenzied exasperation. But he also remembered, or at least he did after Bobby had torn him a new one, that his final moments with his dad had been marred by his unbridled anger and desire to continue the never ending battle of wills that had existed between them for so long.

It had taken Sam awhile, but he was starting to gain a better understanding his brother now than he ever had in the past. During the past two years that they had worked together in the "family business"of hunting down supernatural evil, Sam slowly came to the realization that most of what he thought he "knew" about his brother was really just the self protective facade that Dean used to get through the relentless grind of the "job".... be it fighting evil creatures or taking care of his pain in the ass little brother. Dean's need to protect his family over rode his own self interest to an unhealthy degree; and while it frustrated Sam to no end, he was learning to accept the fact that Dean's "problems" were the result of their screwed up childhood, and getting mad at Dean wouldn't solve anything. Any more than taking out his anger on his dad had helped. Sam sometimes wondered what might have been if he had been more open about his family with Jess, perhaps she would have helped him figure things out earlier. Lord knew that she repeatedly tried to get him to open up about his family, only to have him shut down completely on her. What if it could have prevented her death? He'd never know, but the residual guilt would be a part of him forever.

Sam had mostly felt safe as a child, thanks to Dean.... but then later when he felt threatened as he grew older and better understood what the family did, Sam had responded with anger and resentment. Sam deeply regretted how he seemed to let his anger take control and make him oblivious to the needs of his family. Sure his childhood was messed up, but that was the fault of the yellow eyed demon, not his dad or Dean. They were victims as well. And to add to it.... it was Sam that the yellow eyed demon wanted, so here he had been blaming them when it was really as much his fault that their mother died. Sam distrusted the yellow eyed demon enough that he didn't put much faith in the "dream" he had back in X. Rosie's mom didn't recognize the demon, so why should his own mother be any different.

Sam was more tolerant as Dean drank a little more, or maybe a lot more, than he should.... knowing what lay in wait had to be taking its toll on Dean; and while Sam knew that Dean would make the same deal again in a heartbeat, there was no way he could not be dreading his fate. So Sam made an effort not to get so caught up in the hunt that he neglected sharing time with Dean. No longer did Dean play darts or pool solo, Sam would put away the laptop and join in. And the more he did so, the more natural it became. Two brothers sharing some fun together. He did draw the line at "hooking up" with girls, but Dean actually spent far less time chasing skirts than he had before, preferring to spend his time with Sam. Sometimes it seemed that Dean would spend great lengths of time just observing Sam, content to hear Sam breathe or do the most mundane tasks. Of course, he would deny that he was doing anything more than listening to his music or daydreaming. But Dean seemed to still be haunted by the agonizing hours that he spent staring at Sam's corpse and needed to assure himself that Sam was alive and going to stay that way.

Finally finished with his suturing, Sam cleaned up and put away the remaining first kit materials. Dean went over to one of the beds and lay down in preparation for sleep. Sam rummaged around for a clean sheet of paper and started a list of supplies they needed. He would finish the list and then see how much cash they had on hand. The credit cards were too risky to use in this isolated area, but he would definitely need to make a supply run before too long. He'd let Dean sleep while he made something for lunch and then head out.

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

I finally finished a new fanfic.... and of course after I post it, I find those pesky typos that always elude me during proofing.... it's a gift I guess

anyway, the Winchesters are such a wonderfully dysfunctional family and I find it fun to try to imagine how they got that way. Most of the time I just post those long ponderings in the forum, but this time i decided to flesh it out into a short story titled Bulleye.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3787586/1/Bullseye

hope you give it a read.....

I rode my new horse home yesterday....  traded a couple of calves for her with my neighbor.... 

she's a registered Thoroughbred with a little age on her, but sensible & well broke.

 

It was funny how the cows all had to come over & check her out...  and how they'd dash away when she snorted or made the "nasty face" at them.... 

highland cattle may have impressive horns, but they learned long ago from my other horses that teeth & heels trump horns ... should be "interesting" to see them learn to coexist....  and you thought only people could be obnoxious... lol 

 

some photos I took this morning before work

 

http://s62.photobucket.com/albums/h110/sciencegeek51/Critters/   

In my previous blog I mentioned how impressed I was with  Mike Robertson and I just have to let you 

know that his latest weeky minute is really interesting.

He has once again gotten involved in working to get music albums into an mp3 format for sale - 

as opposed to the current rental deals available.  If you're into portable music, I strongly recommend 

checking out his site.   See if you agree with me.

www.michaelrobertson.com