Title: In the Lap of the Gods

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: Massachusetts is a lot more inviting without bands of angry little Fae to ruin your day. Post 6x14 "Mannequin 3: The Reckoning" a little hurt, a little comfort and a lot of awesome from our boys and Bobby.

Author's Note: This one is a request from my Other Brother who wanted some Pukwudgie action…and tasteless jokes from Dean. Lol I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this yet but I'm sure we'll have fun getting there. I also decided to tie this one in with a sort of request a while back from my lovely Beta who wanted some more in-depth angst between Bobby and Sam with fallout from soulless Sam trying to kill him.

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~


No beginning there's no ending
There's no meaning in my pretending
Believe me life goes on and on and on
Forgive me when I ask you where do I belong
You say I can't set you free from me
But that's not true
It's in the lap of the gods.


Chapter 1

Sam looked up and smirked as Dean found yet another lame reason to walk past him on Bobby's porch. As if he didn't know full well his big brother was checking up on him. Dean's 'take care of Sam' gene had hit an all-time high after his…seizure. Sam shook his head minutely. Dean had told him what it had looked like, but he still found it hard to picture himself like that. He looked back down at his laptop and the articles he was scrolling through looking for another job. It was cold out and he'd have been more comfortable inside, but there was a tightness in Bobby's face every time Sam was in the room that Sam just couldn't handle sometimes. It made his heart hurt to see actual fear around the eyes of the man he considered a second father. Sam chuckled…more like a third father as Dean ambled up to the porch again.

He had been horrified when he'd learned what he had done, what he had nearly succeeded in doing if not for Dean's timely arrival, and he had desperately tried to communicate that to Bobby and apologize…repeatedly…since then. And Bobby said all the right words, accepting his apology, at least on the surface, but there was still obvious doubt and mistrust simmering just below the surface that Sam just didn't know how to fix.

"Find anything?" Dean asked and leaned against the railing, cleaning engine grease from his hands.

"Maybe." Sam nodded. "There've been some strange deaths in Massachusetts in a state forest."

"How strange?" Dean moved to look over his shoulder at the screen.

"Some poisonings. Couple people burned alive with no trace of accelerant. One guy they found riddled with, get this, porcupine quills of unusual size."

"What the hell does that mean, unusual size?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Bigger than normal. Something used the guy as a pincushion." Sam tapped the screen over the page he was looking at. "There's also a long history of people being lured or shoved to their deaths off a cliff in the park. The Watuppa Indians in the area attribute all of this to Pukwudgies."

"Puk-what?" Dean snorted. "Pukwedgies?"

"Wudgies." Sam corrected with a roll of his eyes.

"Nasty bastards is what they are." Bobby said as he stepped out onto the porch, having overheard the conversation. "Worse, there's no such thing as just one of 'em. They live in nests. Most of 'em been wiped out by Hunters over the years, but every once in a while, a nest pops up and starts raisin' hell."

"Awesome." Dean groaned. "Just how I wanna spend my day, bein' chased around a forest by an angry herd of wedgies."

Sam snorted. "Dude. Wudgie. Pukwudgie."

Bobby huffed a laugh and then sobered, looking sideways at Sam and then back to Dean. "You boys'll need help to clear out the nest. I'm comin'."

"How do we gank these things?" Dean followed Bobby back inside with Sam behind him.

"Iron." Bobby said simply. "For once, you can just shoot the little bastards."

"Nice." Dean grinned. "That makes things easier."

Bobby nodded and smiled in agreement. "Lore's kinda sketchy but most sources think they used to be Fae."

"Hence the iron weakness." Sam nodded. "Wait, Fae? That means magic, glamours and crap."

Bobby nodded. "They use magic to lure their prey. Rufus and I hunted a nest of 'em once, long time ago." Bobby rolled his eyes with the memory. "'bout damn near led me off a cliff thinkin' I was chasin' Rufus' ugly ass. Didn't lemme hear the end of it for years."

Dean chuckled, easily imagining Rufus driving Bobby to shouting with embarrassment. "Friggin' Faeries. Gonna have to put that stinky crap on our eyes aren't we?"

Sam nodded with a laugh. "St. John's Wort and it doesn't smell that bad."

"There's a stash of the oil out in the storage shed, Sam." Bobby waved a hand in the general direction.

"I'll go get it." Sam took it for what it was, a request for his absence, and left with that tight feeling in his chest again.

Dean waited until the front door banged shut and looked over at Bobby with raised brows. "This gonna be a problem, you workin' with us?" He fixed Bobby with an irritated look. "Or aren't you done kickin' him yet?"

He got it, Bobby's reluctance to be in Sam's presence, but that didn't make it any easier to watch. It was hard to trust someone who'd tried to kill you, even if Sam's soul hadn't been around for the ride.

"I ain't kickin' him." Bobby snarled and sat behind his desk. "I don't have a problem."

"Uh huh." Dean wasn't convinced but was at a loss as to what he could do to 'fix' them other than to give Bobby time to work it out on his own. "I'll go pack." Unfortunately, while Bobby was figuring out how to trust his little brother again, Sam's heart was being torn up, and that was plain as day for Dean to see.

Bobby looked away guiltily from Dean's receding back and looked out the window instead. He couldn't stop the small flinch as Sam's tall form walked in front of the window back to the house. Every time he looked at the kid, he saw the monster, and he just couldn't get past it; couldn't accept that there wasn't still a part of Sam that would happily kill him given the chance. How in hell was he ever supposed to trust him again?


Dean reached over and slapped his brother's shoulder to wake him up. "We're here, princess."

Sam groaned and tried to stretch, elbows bumping the ceiling and scowled. "You're a jerk." He looked up and watched Bobby's truck ahead of them bounce into a parking lot in front of a long, log building. "What's this place?"

"Some kinda hunting lodge." Dean smirked. "Appropriate. Bobby says they rent cabins out back, and this time of year they should be pretty empty. Says he knows the owner."

"Huh. Well that could make things less complicated." Sam watched Bobby's truck pull up to the front of the building, and the older climbed out and waved them in.

"We're gonna be chasin' midget Fae through the damn forest. I'm all for less complicated." Dean grumbled. He wasn't looking forward to this job. The Fae had a way of turning things back on you before you even realized it was happening. Dean pulled up beside Bobby's truck, parked, and climbed out with a groan as his joints protested twelve hours behind the wheel.

Sam rolled his eyes as he got out. "You know, you could have let me drive."

"Nope. I really couldn't," Dean said firmly, though he smiled. There was no way he wanted Sam behind the wheel of any car, let alone his baby, never knowing when his wall was gonna spring another leak and turn him into seizure-boy again. He shuddered just at the thought of that happening on the freeway at ninety miles an hour.

"Let's go meet the owner." Bobby headed for the doors at the front of the lodge. "Barry's a bit of an oddball, but he's good people."

"Define 'oddball'." Dean said with a laugh. "'Cause you know, pot, kettle." He waved a hand at Bobby.

"Son, don't think I'm too old to drop your ass in the dirt. Smartin' off at me," Bobby grumbled, yanked the door open, and slapped the back of Dean's head as he went past.

Sam chuckled but quickly choked it back when he saw the flinch in Bobby's eyes as he passed by him. He hung his head and stood back, letting Bobby walk past. Part of him wished he could remember what he'd almost done to Bobby; hearing about it from Cas and remembering it were two very different things, and the more self-protective part of him was glad that he couldn't. He wasn't sure he could cope with any part of himself that would actually want to murder Bobby.

"Stop thinkin' so hard." Dean startled his brother, slapping his arm and nodded when Sam's eyes whipped to his. Dean shook his head and followed Bobby to the counter.

"Bobby Singer. 'Bout damn time you got yer ass back up this way." The elderly, white-haired man behind the counter grinned and vigorously shook the hand Bobby put out.

"Barry. I was tryin' to steer clear of your cookin'." Bobby smirked and turned. "These are John Winchester's boys, Dean and Sam."

"Winchester! There's a name I ain't heard nothin' good about in a while." Barry raised a brow as he looked at the young men and then grinned. "But Hunters are a bunch o' twice-blasted idiots, so that ain't exactly a surprise. You're welcome here anytime. John was a good man."

Dean wiped the scowl that had started from his face and shook the offered hand. "Nice to meet you, Barry…I think."

Sam shook his hand as well and tried not to flinch under the heavy stare the man gave him before he smiled finally. He stepped back and tried not to look as guilty as he felt.

"Glad you boys have come up here to deal with those damn Pukwudgies." Barry shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Most of the time they're just a damn menace, lead the occasional tourist astray, but damn if they haven't been offin' the locals lately."

"How long has this nest been active?" Sam asked, curious that the man had apparently known about them for some time and not called in anyone to deal with it.

"Oh, a decade or more, I suppose." Barry shrugged. "Like I said, never really been more than a nuisance 'til now." He reached under the counter and came back up with two keys attached to wooden placards. "Got'cher keys to your cabins out back. Only got a few guests here in the lodge." He laid a finger along his nose. "Kept the cabins empty for ya."

Bobby took one of the keys and tossed it to Dean. "Why don't you boys go get settled while Barry and I go over where he thinks the nest is." He raised a brow at the old man. "I know you been thinkin' about it since before you called me."

Barry chuckled. "Never could put nothin' over on you, Singer. Yeah, I do. Come on."

Dean nodded at Bobby and gave his brother's shoulder a push toward the door. Once outside, he took a sidelong look at him and the clearly miserable expression Sam was doing a piss-poor job of hiding. "He'll get over it, Sammy."

Sam glanced at him in surprise and then shook his head. "It's alright, Dean. I deserve it. I can handle it."

Dean snarled softly, wanting to explain to Sam…again…that he didn't deserve crap. As far as Dean was concerned, Sam had a clean slate. He'd have to figure out how to get that through Bobby's thick skull before Sam started flogging himself for penance or something equally stupid his geek brain might come up with.


"God…oh, God…this isn't happening." Christopher Rollings chanted to himself as he ran, slapping limbs out of his way as he pelted through the forest. The sound of snapping twigs, running feet, and barely heard laughter followed him, straining already frayed nerves and putting the sting of panicked tears in his eyes. He risked a glance over his shoulder, but, as before, saw nothing but the forest. He cried out as his right foot caught a trailing tree root and threw him to the ground. He rolled to a stop and scrambled to his knees, then back to his feet.

"Stay away from me!" He shouted and started running again with the tears now falling. "Joe…shit, Joe! Where are you?"


"Joe!" Christopher yelled as he heard his friend's voice from up ahead. He put on more speed as the sounds behind him picked up even louder and the faint laughter became darker…vicious. He wished now that they'd listened to the old man at the lodge when he'd said to stay out of the forest. "Should'a listened. God, we should'a…should have…Joe!"

"Keep coming!"

Christopher heaved for breath and a pain stitched in his side from too much running without a rest. He ignored it. He gasped in relief when he saw Joe ahead in the trees, waving him frantically on.

"Hurry up! They're coming!"

"O…ok!" Christopher managed through burning lungs and ran with everything he had. He neared Joe. He broke through the trees, reaching for his friend...and screamed as he stepped into open air as his voice followed him down the cliff and to his death.


"Ok, these are pretty damn nice compared to the crap-holes we usually end up in." Dean admired the outside of the rustic log cabin while Sam opened the door.

"Nice in here too." Sam said as he flipped on the lights and then smirked. "Well, except for the taxidermy explosion." The cabin was a large, warm room in natural woods with blankets tossed here and there over a low couch and two chairs, a table on the other side of the room, and a large television that Dean smiled at and ran a finger over appreciatively. The walls and every available horizontal surface were decorated with mounted heads and various small critters, stuffed and posed.

Dean poked at two stuffed chipmunks next to the tv and snorted. "I can live with Chip and Dale here as long as the tv picks up Skin-imax."

"You start watching cheesy soft porn, I'm bunking with Bobby," Sam laughed and went to a door beside the small refrigerator and flicked on the bedroom light. "Nice." Two king size beds filled the room with another door to the bathroom, dresser, and a small table jammed between the beds.

Dean came in behind him, tossed his bag on the bed nearest the door automatically and then rolled onto it with a grateful groan. "Oh, yeah, baby."

Sam smirked. "I'll leave you two alone." He went back outside and to the trunk, grabbed his bag and the weapons bag and went back inside. He peeked in the bedroom and sure enough, Dean had fallen into a light sleep, unsurprising after twelve hours behind the wheel. He chuckled softly and went about making the cabin safe. He was in the middle of drawing a devil's trap on the bottom of the rug by the door when Bobby opened it and nearly banged it into his head.

"Geez, Bobby. Knock and warn a guy next time." Sam chuckled, finished the trap and stood.

"Right. Sorry. Where's Dean?" Bobby looked around the room expectantly.

Sam nodded to the bedroom. "Snoring. He needs a little longer after that drive."

Bobby stood awkwardly in the cabin door while Sam, not so surreptitiously moved away from him to give him space. He shook his head at himself and came inside. "Little cabin warmin' present from Barry." Bobby held up a case of beer and set it on the little breakfast table. He took a map out of his pocket and set it on the table, took out two beers, and held one out to Sam.

"Uh, thanks." Sam took it with a tentative smile, twisting the cap off. "So how far in are we gonna have to hike?"

Bobby opened the map and spread it out, using the six-pack to hold one side down. "Few miles."

"I heard beer." Dean emerged from the bedroom rubbing his eyes.

Sam snorted a laugh and handed his to his brother. "Here." He grabbed his coat and shrugged it back on. "I'll go find us some food."

"Dude, you're not driving." Dean reached for the keys on the table but Sam grabbed them first.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

Dean watched him go with a frown. "Don't crash my car!" He looked over at Bobby's raised brows and scowled. "What?"

"Nothin'." Bobby sat at the table and took a pull on his beer. "We got some hikin' to do. Barry thinks the nest is maybe back here somewhere." He pointed to a circled area on the map as Dean sat across from hm. "There's hikers, campers, and hunters all through the forest, but this area near the cliff seems to be where most of the deaths and attacks are happenin'."

Dean studied the topographical map, trying not to twitch as he listened to the Impala's engine start up and pull away and frowned. "Man, that's gonna be a bitch of a hike."

Bobby nodded. "Forest is damn dense in there. Barry says you can get three feet from your buddy and lose sight of him."

"So, good place to split people up and take them out." Dean narrowed his eyes at the map and the cliff marked on it. "He have any idea how many of these little bastards we're looking for?"

"Nope." Bobby shook his head and leaned back. "Could be two or three. Could be a dozen. No way to know 'til we find 'em."

"Awesome." Dean groaned and emptied his beer. "Don't suppose you've got a machine gun in your truck?"

Bobby chuckled. "And have to listen to you tearin' up the cars in my lot all day with it? Hell, no. I know better."

Dean grinned and shrugged, knowing he would happily unload a machine gun all day just for kicks. He set the empty bottle on the table and pulled another out of the pack. "When you wanna start this shindig?"

"Got one survivor from a few days ago in the local hospital." Bobby shrugged. "Might have seen how many of them there were before they pinchushioned his ass."

"Wait, his ass?" Dean snorted and then laughed. "Ouch."

Bobby smirked. "Figure we could go talk to him tonight and hike out in the morning. Not enough daylight left today."

"Let's boogie then." Dean stood, drained the new beer and went into the bedroom after his coat. "I'll text Sam, let him know where we're going."


Sam set the take-out bags on the seat beside him and pulled his ringing phone out. He read the quick message from Dean and sighed. "Guess there's no rush to get the food back hot." He started up the car and rather than head back to the cabins, he decided to drop by the local police station.

Freetown-Fall was a small town with old buildings that gave it the look of having been forgotten by time except for the Biggerson's restaurant Sam had stopped at. He found the police station easily enough and parked around the side in relative privacy. He pulled his FBI badge from the glove box and got out. Sam popped the trunk and pulled his suit out of his bag, quickly changing into the shirt and jacket. He closed the trunk and tucked his shirt into his jeans; unwilling to drop his pants in public and smirked at what Dean would have had to say. He finished tying his tie and pulled open the door, stepping inside.

The squad room, contrary to the orderly place Sam had been expecting, was in a state of chaos. Several officers were trying to restrain a very large man who roared unintelligibly and tossed one of the cops aside like he weighed nothing.

"Dammit! GET HIM DOWN!" A man shouted from the back of the room and waded into the fight.

Sam watched as the man - the sheriff, according to his badge - was thrown like the other, and the remaining two officers tried to overwhelm the enraged guy. Sam groaned, rolled his shoulders and stepped into the fray.


To Be Continued…