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Love and Duty	By : rae_roberts Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and make no profit from this story. Just borrowing Papa Winchester and his boys for fun.

Chapter List
- 13
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A day had gone by without a word and barely a glance from Dean. Stubborn, Sam did his best to follow his fiancé’s example, ignoring Dean right back, but the effort left him feeling angry and out of sorts. Even the arrival of letters from St. Louis didn’t to much lighten Sam’s mood. Much as he hated to admit it, he missed the country boy’s stoic presence beside him as he walked him to and from school, his quiet companionship as they sat on the porch in the afternoon… Worse, Sam found he missed Dean’s kisses, the touch of his hands and the hot, eager press of Dean’s body against his. Sam shook his head, dismissing the memories and the thrill of arousal they sparked in his gut. The physical contact would be happening again soon enough, he reminded himself bitterly. He and Dean could only avoid one another for so long. Their wedding loomed closer every day, and then Dean would fulfill his duty and father those grandsons John Winchester wanted so badly.
Ellen spoke up at dinner that night with a further reminder of the impending nuptials. “Sam, Missouri will have to manage class without you tomorrow afternoon. The tailor is coming out from Lawrence to do the fittings for the suits for the wedding party and I’ll need you here at the house. I just know Chuck wasn’t counting on you being so tall,” she added with a teasing grin.
“That means you gotta steer clear of the main house tomorrow, Dean,” Rufus Turner called out before Sam could reply. “It’s bad luck for the bridegrooms to see one another in their wedding finery before the ceremony.”
“Ya superstitious idjit,” Bobby Singer groused affectionately, aiming a smack of his hand to the back of Rufus’s head.
“It’s not superstition, it’s tradition,” Rufus protested, blatantly stealing a fresh-baked dinner roll from Bobby’s plate, making Sam smile at the two old friends’ antics, but he flinched when Dean spoke up.
“Don’t worry, Rufus, I have no problem avoiding that monkey-suit madness.”
His fiancé’s voice was cheerful and ordinarily Sam would have sympathized with Dean’s position, knowing he preferred his worn jeans and t-shirts to fancy suits, but in light of their disagreement and avoidance of one another, the words stung.   He spent the next several minutes in miserable silence, pushing the food around on his plate, before rising to his feet with a murmured,   “Please excuse me.”
“Sit down, Sam.” Even when John Winchester was in a good mood, he tended to bark orders like a cavalry sergeant, and Sam instinctively dropped back into his seat. “I noticed you and Dean haven’t seen much of one another lately,” he remarked.
“No, sir,” Sam admitted.
“I was just late finishing up my chores today, Dad,” Dean said hurriedly, and Sam’s temper flared at his falsely cheery, casual tone. “Sammy and I will make up the time.”
“See that you do,” John rumbled.
“Yes, sir.”
“No, sir,” Sam said quietly, and John’s dark eyebrows arched.
“What’s that?”
“What Dean meant to say was, no, we won’t be making up the time,” Sam told John, glancing down the long table at Dean and feeling a little jolt of satisfaction at the muted but distinct look of alarm that crossed his fiancé’s handsome face. “We’re done with pretending to be courting.” Again, he stood up to leave the table.
“I didn’t excuse you, Sam.”
The elder Winchester’s belligerent expression reminded Sam almost comically of Dean’s when his fiancé was spoiling for a fight, and instead of feeling nervous, he found himself welcoming the confrontation.   “I’m finished,”   he said coldly.
“But, Sam, you barely touched your food,” Ellen interjected, trying to smooth things over. “Are you feeling ill?”
“You live under my roof, you eat at my table,” John warned, “or you don’t eat.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” Sam inclined his head to her, polite. “Excuse me.” He walked out of the dining room, hazel eyes lighting up at the sound of a chair scraping across the wooden floor and John’s heavy footsteps behind him.
A little of Sam’s bravado faded when a big hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.   Face to face, Sam was tall enough to look John Winchester straight in the eye, but the older man was broader, tougher, and worlds more intimidating. “I won’t tolerate disrespect under my roof,” he told Sam gruffly.
“But you’ll tolerate dishonesty?” Sam demanded, refusing to back down even as the rest of the household gathered in the doorway behind John to watch the show. Bobby and Rufus were blocking the exit, preventing Ellen from charging into the fray. Jo bounced on her toes, trying to get a look around her mother and over the two bulky rancher’s shoulders.
“No, I won’t, but that’s a matter for me to discuss with my son, not his fiancé,” John said coldly.
“Dean only lied about us courting because he’s afraid to disobey you,” Sam fired back. “He’s more of a slave than I am! Even back in St. Louis--”
“I can send you back to St. Louis if that’s what you want.” John’s voice rose in fury. “You don’t like the idea of marriage? Fine. I’ll make sure the Academy honors your desire to be bred by any stud that’s available--”
“Stop it! Not another word!” Rufus doubled over with a grunt of pain as Ellen elbowed her way past him. The petite woman shoved between the two much taller men, glaring at them both until Sam’s face flushed red with embarrassment and even John looked abashed.    “Sam, go to your room,” she snapped.    Ellen didn’t bother to wait and see if her son obeyed. She whirled on the gawkers at the dining room door, “And you! Show’s over. Sit down and finish your damned dinner.”

“Boy, you really are great at pissing people off,”   Jo announced on their way to school the next morning.
Sam sighed heavily. He’d retreated to his room on Ellen’s orders and stayed there until breakfast the next morning, but he couldn’t help but overhear the harsh tone of John’s voice rising up through the floorboards. “I know.”
“John can’t send you back to St. Louis.” Jo came to a stop, turning to face Sam. “He can’t, Sam! Mom won’t let him!” she insisted, her brown eyes clouded with worry.
“He won’t,” Sam reassured her. His initial assessment of John Winchester’s stubborn inability to admit he might be wrong about the marriage he’d arranged for his son still held true. Jo surprised Sam by flinging her arms around him in a tight hug. He returned it gratefully.
“Good.” She sniffled loudly, then stepped back, collecting herself.
“Where was Dean this morning?” Sam asked Jo curiously. After the chewing-out his father had no doubt given him, Sam had expected Dean to show up, cowed, to walk him to school like a dutiful fiancé, but Dean hadn’t even come down for breakfast.
“Oh, he left last night. Something’s been attacking cattle out in the far grazing lands, a wolf, probably, or maybe a werewolf,” Jo said casually. “John told Dean that since you two had quit courting, he might as well go hunt it down, whatever it is.”
Not that long ago Sam would have insisted there were no such thing as werewolves, but now he stopped, looking at Jo with alarm. “By himself?” he asked, clearly concerned, but the fourteen-year-old just scoffed.
“Dean’ll be fine. He’ll be back in a day or two, don’t worry.” She grinned. “Good job not caring, Sam.“

Ellen had mentioned that the tailor, Chuck Shurley, would be coming out from Lawrence, but when Sam returned to the house at lunchtime he found what looked like half the population of the little frontier town.   Bolts of cloth were piled up on the dining room table, women and men bustled about with tape measures and pincushions, and every bedroom, it seemed, had been pressed into service as a dressing room.
Soon Sam was dressed in a white linen suit.   He stood awkwardly while Chuck Shurley circled, eyeing him critically and complaining about his height through a mouthful of pins. Eventually the trouser and jacket cuffs were bristling with those pins, and Sam retreated up the stairs to change out of the suit so Chuck’s staff of helpers could finish hemming it.
A young man was just emerging through his bedroom door when Sam got to the top of the stairs.    Slender and dark-haired, he looked about Dean’s age and was clearly in the house for a fitting, judging by the suit jacket he was wearing over a t-shirt and patched and faded jeans. “Hello,” Sam said.
Bright blue eyes stared at him unblinking for a long moment. “Hello, Sam Harvelle.”   The stranger stepped past him and down the stairs without another word, leaving Sam to watch him go, bemused.
“That’s Cass. Strange as they come, but he’s harmless...And I know, I look ridiculous,”   Pam Barnes said as Sam turned to look her way.
“No, ma’am,” Sam said honestly. “You look nice.”    The captain of the guard wore a halter dress that showed off her perfectly toned arms and shoulders and clung to the feminine curves of her body. She chuckled at his compliment, inclining her head in thanks.   “Who’s Cass? Does he live here on the estate?” Sam asked her. He knew there were still some ranch hands on the sprawling Winchester estate that he hadn’t had a chance to meet yet.
“Nah, Cass is the local hermit, lives somewhere on the outskirts of Lawrence...I’m not even sure where he holes up.”
“He’s a hermit, but he’s in the wedding party?” Sam said skeptically.
Pam chuckled. “Funny how that works, eh? I’m sure Dean’s the only one who could have talked him into it, as shy and skittish as Cass is.”
Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Curious, wondering what the connection was between his fiancé and the eccentric-sounding Cass, but also a little jealous.   Was Cass more than just a friend? He was about to ask Pam more about the local hermit, but she spoke up instead.
“Look, Sam, I don’t want you thinking I have to force my attentions where they’re not wanted. I just didn’t realize the predicament was putting you in, until Dean mentioned it.”
“That’s all right, ma’am,” Sam told her.
“Well, I feel as if we got off on the wrong foot.” She thrust out a hand. “Can we start over?”
“Yes, ma’am.”

They shook hands and Pamela headed down the stairs, muttering to herself. “I can’t wait to get out of this ridiculous get-up and back into some normal clothes.”
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Love and Duty