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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

Chapter 18

A Brand New World

From Chapter 17

The two of them stripped down and got ready for bed. Dean hit the bathroom first and took a quick shower. He had been so engrossed in Bobby's books he hadn't even noticed that he was still wearing the windblown dirt from their drive. Warm and rosy skinned he wrapped up in a nice, fat, fluffy towel and headed for bed. Sam was already there, sitting up against the headboard waiting for Dean.

The Hunter held out his arms and Dean climbed in, dropping his towel. Wrapped now in Sam's arms he leaned against his husband's chest; warm, safe and comfortable. He yawned yet again and cuddled in close. Sam pulled the comforter up over them both.

"Look Dean," he whispered. "The wind is rising and the tree tops are tossing around. Doesn't it remind you of a boat on the ocean?"

Dean didn't answer. He was already asleep. Sam followed him into slumber as the wind tossed their boat in the sky.

Chapter 18

"You're going to take him where?" Bobby Singer had laughed last night when Sam told him about his idea for a perfect honeymoon spot.

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The next morning Sam woke in their Ship of Dreams. Overnight winter had settled in over South Dakota; the cold Canadian winds had blown into the North Country under the cover of darkness and the air had turned cool, crisp and pure. Outside their windows the sky was a churning mass of grey clouds, heavy with the promise of snow. The oak tree tops at the window ledge tossed and rippled, flashing their silver underbellies in the rampaging air.

The cold had crept into Bobby's old house through a thousand cracks and crevasses but the smell of burning wood promised heat to come. Bobby Singer had risen early to stoke the fires, perhaps in sympathy for his two New York snow bunnies. Sam had awakened first, comforted by the familiar smell of burning oak.

Dean still lay asleep in his lover's arms as the morning light gilded his face. Sam ran his fingers delicately over the sleeping man's full, soft lips and traced the constellations of freckles he had already learned well enough that the patterns were permanently carved into his heart.

Dean wiggled his nose to get rid of the tickle. Sam curled back down under the covers running long fingers hands over Dean's hidden flesh. Flesh that belonged to Sam now; signed, sealed, delivered and approved by the State of New York.

Dean was smiling but refused to open his eyes. "Just what do you think you're doing buddy boy?" he whispered.

Sam kissed the blonde's closed eyes. "You're not fooling anybody, Sunshine." Sam pinched Dean's inner thigh and Dean grabbed the back of Sam neck as his green eyes flashed open. "Bastard."

"Wakey, wakey; eggs and bacy," Sam chortled.

Dean yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "If I had known that marriage meant early morning abuse I would have given the entire idea some more thought," he muttered.

Sam laughed at the petulant grumbling. "Come on, Bobby's going to start cooking soon. First he'll make coffee. You can't resist that. I'll race you to the bathroom."

With that challenge Sam threw their covers on the floor and climbed over Dean on his way to the door. Dean made a grab for his husband's body but there was nothing but naked skin to hold to. Sam slipped away, dancing over the cold floor while pulling on a ratty old pair of sweat pants.

Dean followed more carefully. This place was definitely not his nicely temperature controlled apartment. He sat up shivering on the side of the bed, grabbing at the discarded comforter while watching the windblown tree tops toss against a background of grey and purple storm clouds. Even though night was retreating the cold was staying behind

Dean arranged his comforter around him, careful not to snap his delicate silver chains and decided to take a walk. Somewhere down that hall was a warm shower stall with a delightfully wet husband in it and Dean wanted to find him.

Out in the hall there was evidence of a window that needed caulking and a nippy breeze encouraged Dean to hurry along. His bare feet danced on the cool wood floors that had been polished by a maybe a hundred years of feet. He spotted his destination. The warm bathroom air condensed when it met the cooler hallway atmosphere. The resulting fog might as well have been a flashing sign. He slipped through the unlocked door, dropping his comforter behind in the now empty hall.

Inside the warm little room he stood with his back on the door, his hands behind him. The shower curtain moved and Sam's water slicked face appeared. "Hello, pretty." The big man rumbled. "What are you doing way over there?" Sam crooked a finger. "Get that pretty mouth over here. I have a perfect place for it."

Dean obeyed the summons and took a couple of steps to the side of the tub. Stepping over the side he was immediately swept into Sam's arms and pressed against his lover. The hot water pounded his back while Sam tilted his face into the stream so that Sam could get at his lover's neck. Sam traced Dean's collar with his tongue, stopping occasionally to nip and mark. The big man's hands wandered Dean's body at last settling to take both of Dean's hands in one giant paw and pin them behind the smaller man's back. Sam's other hand went exploring.

Dean spread his legs when Sam's knee pushed them apart. Sam's free hand went all the secret places; before, behind and between. Dean shut his eyes and surrendered. Everything he was he offered to his lover, his husband, his dominant.

"Open your eyes, Dean." Sam murmured. "I don't want you to fall." Obeying, Dean stared into Sam's face "On your knees, lover."

Dean was licking his husband's dick a moment later. Sam braced against the wall, wrapped his band around the back of Dean's head and fed his dick between Dean's plush lips. "Suck, baby."

It wasn't long. Dean didn't even have time to get sore knees before his husband was shooting down his throat. He held on to Sam's legs until Sam got his control back and wasn't threatening to fold. Sam pulled his lover up and turned Dean to face the steam of warm water.

Holding the smaller man around the waist Sam forced Dean's head against his shoulder and claimed his lips. Dean's body was completely controlled and Sam worked Dean's cock until Dean painted the shower walls with come. Sam's lips prevented Dean's screams from sullying poor Bobby's ears.

The two of them were coming down from their orgasms when Bobby's voice floated up the stairs. "Breakfast's ready. Anyone up there interested?"

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Fifteen minutes later two bright, shiny, well-scrubbed newly-weds were sitting down at Bobby's table. The older man peered at them over the edge of his parts catalogue. When Bobby said "You two look like the cat that ate the canary" Dean almost spit his coffee into his cereal bowl. The older man's eyebrows did a little dance and then he hid his face behind his catalogue.

Sam held his laugh in so hard he had coffee leaking out of his nose. From behind Bobby's reading material an "idjits" floated out.

"So Bobby," Sam began. "I thought we'd load the car up after breakfast and take off for Sica."

Dean's head popped up. "What?" he looked from one man to another. "We're going to go where? What's Sica?"

Bobby snorted and turned to Sam. "He get like that a lot? Kind of all adrift?" Sam laughed back

"Don't pick on Dean, Bobby. I haven't told him about Sica yet. I kind wanted to ease him into the idea."

Bobby stood up and flicked back the curtain on the kitchen window. "I can understand that. It doesn't look like very good weather to go camping in the woods. I think we're going to be getting snow tonight. Good luck with the tent."

Dean slapped his hands on the table. "Hey guys, I'm right here. What's with this camping in the woods stuff?" He shifted his focus and stared at Sam. "Just what have you got me involved with, Sam? I don't do sleeping on the ground, in the woods, in the snow." With each clause Dean's voice got higher.

Now Sam stood up and peered out the same window that Bobby had used. He them went and stood behind Dean holding him down in the chair by griping his shoulders. "Well, I was going to leave this for when we were in the car but here goes. I've made arrangements for us to camp in Sica State Park tonight."

"Why?' Dean asked quietly. "Why would you think that was a good idea, Sam?"

"I want to take you some place sacred. Dean. There is no more sacred or secret place in all of the Dakotas than Sica Hollow." Sam sat back down in his chair. Bobby leaned against the stove with his arms crossed.

"Tell him the rest of it, Sam." Bobby said. "Go on, I want to see you get out of this one."

"When the Dakotas belonged only to the Dakota Sioux Sica Hollow was their hunting grounds. They named it Sica, which means "bad" or "evil" in the Sioux language. The streams in Sica run red and the Sioux believed it was blood that ran out of the ground. Here was the location of one of the Sioux creation myths."

Sam settled in and held on to Dean's hands. "The Sioux were once a peaceful tribe who never knew evil or war. Then one day a brave called Hand arrived in the village. No one liked him and he frightened the woman and their children. They went to the elders and begged them to make Hand leave the camp. He promised to leave in the spring after the snows melted but instead of keeping his promise he stayed and taught the young men of the tribe how to fight and kill. Again the woman went to the elders and the elders asked the Medicine Man, Wicasa Wakan, what they had to do to get Hand to leave."

Wicasa Wakan asked Wakantanka, the Great Spirit, what they should do. Wakantanka sent his dark winged messenger, The Thunderer in reply. The Thunderer called the rain to Sica Hollow and flooded the village. Hand tried to run away from the storm but vines sprang out of the ground, wrapped around his ankles and held him until he went mad and drown. Even then Thunderer was not satisfied and it continued to rain until the entire village was destroyed and all the villagers were killed. Only the maiden, Fawn, stayed alive and she slept for three days. When she awoke the village and everyone she had ever known was gone." Sam stopped.

"Charming," Dean said. "You want to take me to this garden sport for what reason?"

"There is a trail in Sica called the Trail of Spirits." Sam answered. "I want us to camp beside the Trail of Sprits and pledge a bond between us. There is magic that runs the Trail. Pledges made there have the force of law. Nothing can break them." Sam smiled at his lover. "Welcome to my world. Remember, you wanted to know. Now come with me and we'll spend the night in Sica. I'll show you spirits do exist in this world."

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They left Bobby's house after breakfast and drove north to Sica. It was under three hours later they pulled into the park parking lot and started out on the hike along the Trail of Spirits. It still was cold in South Dakota even though it was high noon. They kept up a steady pace and after a few hours Sam called a halt to their wandering. Dean looked around at the place that Sam had picked. To Dean's city eye it was just another clump of trees on the side of a rocky hill. It looked no different than any of the other clumps of trees they had walked by that day.

To Sam, however, the place was perfect. There was a nearby water source; there were study pines available to block the worst of the winds. They could pitch their little two man tent under the trees and hopefully nothing would come by that perhaps craved a taste of human meat. He set Dean to gathering stones to make a fire pit and Sam set up their tent under the branches of the pine closest to the ground. If it did snow he hoped that the pine branches would keep the worst of it off them.

There was nothing more uncomfortable than digging out of a tent that collapsed due to the weight of a fresh snowfall. He hoped to avoid that particular disaster. He had other plans for the night.

Earlier, when they had still been at Bobby's Sam had presented Dean with the white buckskin clothing that Bobby's Lakota friend had left for them. Sam looked at Dean squatting beside their fire, feeding the flames small sticks. The skins could not have fit any better and the whiteness only emphasized Dean's silver collar and chains. He was a fantasy and Sam wanted to make absolutely sure there was no way he would ever lose this man to fate, fortune or another lover. When the sun began to set Dean stood with Sam's arms around him and repeated the words that Sam fed him with no idea what he was saying but complete faith that Sam would always keep him safe.

Night came on and the moon rose, turning the landscape into a perfect picture of silver gleams and black shadows. It was growing steadily colder and it only made it more perfect when the snow began to fall. Dean was thinking of the sow at the wedding in Central Park. This place was going to be an even more special memory as it only belonged to the two of them. Behind them their little fire began to flicker.

"You ready to sleep, Princess?" Sam asked. Dean glanced at the little tent. "Is this really going to work, Sam?"

Sam leaned over and threw a few more sticks on the fire. "Sure. It'll be nice and cozy. Just hang your clothes up high in the branches and come on in." With a laugh the big man stripped swiftly and disappeared through the tent flap. Dean shrugged and followed suit.

Sam welcomed his lover under the blanket with open arms and Dean was surprised at how comfortable it did appear to be. They listened quietly for a bit to the fall of the snow landing on the pine branches and then Sam spoke. "You know something princes?' He rolled on his side and propped his head on his bent arm. He drew Dean's head toward him by tugging on Dean's silver chains. "I don't believe that I have every mentioned that I love you."

Dean laughed softly. "Now that you mention it, I don't believe you ever have. By the way I love you too."

They kissed and held on to each other as if something was going to pull them apart and they were going to fight it all the way. As is the way of lovers, one thing lead to another and Sam took his sweet submissive in every position they could manage inside the little tent. Sam took Dean from behind, from on top with the blonde's knees pushed up to meet his chest and had Dean ride Sam's pumping hips until Dean begged to be allowed to rest, if only for a little while.

Sam laughed at Dean's whining. "Did I get that unlimited sex line written into the pre-nup or not? I can't remember."

Dean moaned and grabbed his knees, opening himself up to his husband's busy, inquiring fingers. "I don't care about your whining baby, just give it up and get ready." Sam offered no sympathy, only demand.

Sam's words re-ignited the fire in Dean's belly and he rolled over, raised his ass and presented himself yet again. He'd do it over and over until sunrise if Sam could keep up.

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The Owl and the Pussy-Cat by Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

II
Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

III
'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?'Said the Piggy,'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

The End