Disclaimer:Supernatural is not mine. More's the pity. They belong to Kripke Enterprise and the CW Network. I am not making any money from this; I am simply playing in the fantastic sandbox that Kripke created with these two characters.

Synopsis: Samuel Campbell (Sam) is called home from Palo Alto, CA when his father is killed in an accident at the ranch. His sister Gwen remained in the family business, though it was always his father's intention that Sam should run the family business. Her husband Christian has taken over running the business, but the ranch is losing money and since Sam is the sole executor of the estate he is forced to return. Upon returning home, he finds his family's business is a wreck; an unknown corporation is trying to buy them out.

After interviewing several men to take the spot of one of the hands, Sam's foreman Bobby Singer eventually settles on Dean Winchester. This is after the man saves Sam's life in a bar one night. The cowboy brings his own baggage including a small son. He is also running from something in his past that he desperately wants to keep buried.

Warnings: This is an unrelated AU story with Male/Male pairings. If you don't like that sort of thing, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. There is also foul language interspersed throughout the story, so be on the look out for that. Dean and Sam are unrelated in this story, since I don't really write Wincest. But I do like the dynamic between these two characters. ALSO IF YOU READ MY OTHER WINCHESTER STORIES…YOU MAY NOT LIKE THIS ONE. PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS.

Chapter One:

Horses and Ranch Hands

The Bar S Ranch was one of the oldest and largest working cattle Ranches in the great state of Texas. Located outside of San Antonio it was reasonably close to large metropolitan amenities and the open range alike. Making it unique by today's standards. It also happened to be one of the most successful cattle and horse ranches in the continental United States. The massive property extended for more than a half a million acres with several small houses for the hands and their families along with the large family estate set in the center of an oasis. Their primary trade was Black Angus cattle, but the old man had started into the Appendix quarter horses about ten years ago. That had been a very lucrative turn for the ranch. Breeding the highest quality horses and then training them to win in the arena as well as being able to work the cattle on the large plains they roamed.

Samuel Campbell had loved growing up on the palatial ranch. He'd spent most of his summers cruising through the brush looking for lost cows or camping beneath millions of bright stars while running the cattle drives with his father and the other hands in the spring and the fall. But he'd always wanted more out of life than just being a cowboy. Although, there was nothing wrong with that life, he'd just wanted more. He'd always loved school and the thought of not going on past high school had never really been an option for him. The choice had nearly devastated his father. Sam had had an amazing connection with the horses. The ones that he'd trained had always brought in the highest sales and were the most solid at working the rangy cattle.

Sam had been born last, his older sister Gwen had married a man that she'd met down at the local watering hole. This particular bar was one of three in the entire town and it was one that Sam had been told to stay out of by the men working on his father's ranch. It was full of the toughest stock in Texas and it was a good place to find trouble, if that was what a guy was looking for. The guy Gwen had married was a jackass in Sam's opinion. Christian had only wanted the money that came with the Campbell name, not the woman. He and Sam had gone the rounds on more occasions than the young man cared to remember about how to properly treat a woman.

The loss of their own mother to rapid onset of pancreatic cancer when Sam had been two years old, had heavily affected how he treated women. The deadly cancer had gotten into the bones and metastasized before the doctors found it. By the time his mother was diagnosed, she'd had only a few months to live. Their father had been devastated when he'd learned of the disease and the doctor's inability to save the woman he loved.

Sam had learned about monogamous relationships from the devotion his father had shown his mother and had dated his high school sweetheart all through his first three years of college and then she'd up and moved to Washington DC, to pursue a career in medicine. He hadn't gone with her. He'd chosen to stay and continued to pursue his Law degree, but then his father had died and the ranch started falling apart. Gwen didn't have the background to run an operation of that size and her husband was a joke. But despite how much Sam disliked the guy, his sister loved him, so he tolerated Christian's presence.

Sam stared into the large hazy mirror inside the puke green bathroom of the Silver Spur Bar. The smell of stale cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air and his eyes were red-rimmed as he assessed his physical appearance. He leaned forward and placed the palms of his hands on the stained white porcelain of the sink. There was an obnoxious 'plop', 'plop', 'plop' sound emanating from the bottom of the pipes running beneath the counter. The music was really lousy tonight and Sam wondered whether or not just staying home would have been more fun that this place. He groaned and reached up to scrub a hand down his stubbled face. The five-day growth prickly beneath his palm as it pulled at the exhausted expression on his face.

He swallowed his disgust at the image that stared back at him. His blue-green eyes were dull and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He'd allowed his hair to get longer than he generally liked, it made him look a lot younger than his twenty-six years. He sighed and leaned over the sink, dipping his hands into the cool running water before splashing it onto his face. It ran down his skin and dripped off his nose as he reached for a paper towel.

"Can't believe you came back to this fucking town." A deep voice said from his left.

Sam pulled in a long slow breath and leaned against the sink before turning his eyes in the direction of the door. "Jasper." He said casually and stood up causing the other man to look up at him as he straightened to his full height of 6'4. "How're you?" He hadn't seen the guy since the day of their graduation ceremony.

Jasper had been the captain of the baseball team and received a scholarship to play for a collegiate team. He'd also been Sam's one discretion in high school. They'd both gotten drunk at a party and things had gone further than either of them planned. And that's when Jasper Harrison had lost his god-damned mind. He'd been afraid that Sam was gonna out him to the entire school. So he and his buddies had cornered Sam and beat the hell out of him until he was bruised almost beyond recognition and nearly unconscious. To be fair, the guy had brought most of his team to that particular party and Sam had taken down three of them before Jasper got in a lucky blow. But that had been the end of their uneasy friendship.

Sam had never talked to anyone about that night. He was still pretty sure it was just the alcohol that had made him even entertain the idea of kissing Jasper. Because he'd never looked at another man since that night. As he looked at Jasper he could tell that the guy was piss-drunk and looking for a fight and Sam hadn't even been back in town for 24 hours.

"Oh you know…hanging down at the stop-n-go. Some shit doesn't change." He shoved away from the wall and Sam blinked in surprise when he saw the bat drop down from behind Jaspers arm.

"What's going on here Jasper?" He asked as he looked over at the door. The guy wasn't taller than Sam, but he was big enough to do some damage if he got close…and he had that aluminum bat.

"Nothing…just wanted to remind you to keep your fucking faggot mouth shut." He growled out.

The anger was starting to build in his gut at the accusations flying out of the guy's mouth. Sam wasn't drunk enough to have this conversation. "Look Jasper, I'm only here long enough to get my dad's affairs in order." He shifted his weight and reached for a towel before looking back at the other man. "And that was a long time ago."

Jasper's control broke and he lunged at Sam. The bat was flying in several directions at once, making it nearly impossible for Sam to determine where it was coming from. The silver aluminum bat reversed suddenly and caught Sam in the side. He grunted in pain as he doubled over, his opponent taking a moment to grin before striking again. Sam managed to land two pretty nasty blows. Jasper staggered backwards and slammed into the bathroom stall. He roared his anger and lunged with a wild swing…Sam's eyes caught the glint of silver just before it connected with his head. A sudden flair of pain nearly blinded him as his head exploded and his knees went weak. He caught a blurry form shifting again and he knew that if Jasper landed that second blow to his head…he was done.

"What the fu…?" A raspy voice growled. The sounds of scuffling had Sam trying to focus on a third figure that had walked into the bathroom. A moment later Jaspers unconscious body was lowered to the dirty tile floor. "Hey…hey buddy? You okay?" The gentle hand that landed on his shoulder pulled him from the comfort of passive sleep. Sam's gaze was folding in and out of focus as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. As the face leaned over him, with a worried expression appeared to be an angelic face. The deep forest green eyes were shining at him in concern. His sculpted, chiseled face shifting into the strong chin, Greek nose, complete with high cheekbones, and full pouty pink lips. Sam wondered if he'd died and this was some sort of angel sent to escort him across the border. And that was pretty fucked up…he knew that. But the thought flitted through his head anyways.

"You alive, pal?" The deep voice asked as he shifted back onto his heels and gently touched the bloodied wound on the side of Sam's head. He smiled in sympathy as Sam winced at the feather light touch. "Sorry."

Sam tried to form the words, 'that he was okay, of course he was okay'. But nothing seemed to pass his lips. "Alright, lets get you home." The man helped him get slowly to his feet. Sam felt his stomach rebel at the idea of being in a new position.

"Wait…wait." Sam groaned as his head pulsed in pain. He doubled over and wrapped his arms around his mid-section.

"Whoa…easy buddy. You gotta a name?" The man asked as Sam leaned heavily against him. He was surprised to notice that he wasn't leaning too far down. This guy was almost as tall as he was.

"Sam…Sam Campbell." He managed with a bit of difficulty. The words were slurred and it had nothing to do with the limited alcohol he'd drank before walking into the dark green bathroom. He heard the guy chuckle as he carefully pushed the door open.

"Dean Winchester." He answered immediately. "You live around here?" They moved through the dark bar and Dean nodded at the bartender when his eyes flickered up and widened in surprise. "He's okay. I'm just gonna help him get home."

"Hmmm?" Sam said as his eyelids fell shut a few times.

"No..no, no…Sammy, you gotta stay awake man. I don't know where you live." Dean said as he scanned the parking lot for his car. A small smile played at the edges of his lips when he saw the classic car parked under the one streetlight. As they approached the car Dean felt himself taking more and more of the weight as Sam's legs got rubbery. "Come on. You're as big as a fucking house, dude. Carry some of your own weight." He mumbled as he leaned Sam against the car and pulled his keys from the pocket of his leather jacket.

After he managed to get Sam into the back seat he realized that he still didn't know where this guy lived. He blew out an exasperated breath and made an instant decision. Cranking the engine he headed in the direction of the small motel he was staying at. Under any other circumstance he would even think about taking a stranger home with him. But this kid didn't look too good and he'd definitely gotten his ass handed to him by that son of a bitch at the bar.

XXXX

Dean leaned against the counter a cold beer in his hand as he watched the stranger sleeping in his bed. He'd taken Emery to the neighbors place. Mrs. Carson was a sweet old woman whose husband had died last year. She was in love with the gap toothed little boy. The child made friends with every one he met. He smiled at that thought. His son was the light of his life. His bright blue eyes and bright blonde hair had melted the hearts of greater beings than the little old woman that owned this motel.

But he wasn't willing to risk the boy being in the same room with someone Dean didn't know. He looked at the kid on the bed. This Sam character was lanky and he appeared to be somewhere in his twenties. Dean took a step closer and licked his plump lips as he stared at the very good looking and very unconscious man. This isn't good. The thought flickered through his head quickly as he set his beer down and grabbed the ice from his freezer along with a warm washcloth. He'd put off cleaning up the blood on Sam's face as long as he could. Dean had hoped that the kid would wake up and he could talk to him a bit. But no dice. Sam stayed decidedly and stubbornly unconscious.

"Well…let's get you cleaned up kid." He said as he sank down onto the bed next to Sam. He winced as he got a good look at the long cut just above Sam's left eye. The kid really needed stitches, but Dean knew that taking him to the hospital would be worse for both of them. Whatever had gone down in that bar, it looked like it was something from a long forgotten past and Dean wasn't one for digging into the past. He dabbed gently at the blood and turned to grab a couple of butterfly bandages. Dean carefully pulled the edges of the cut together and placed a small gauze pad over it. He found his fingers lingering on the warm skin of Sam's face longer than was really necessary and he shook his head as he gathered his stuff and wandered back to the kitchen.

Dean sank bonelessly into the chair at the small kitchen table and took a long slow draw on his beer. He wondered if he could find another job soon, since he'd just blown his one chance at an interview. He'd come to Texas because there were a lot of ranches and everyone of them needed good hands. He had an appointment with one of the foreman in the morning. "Ah shit…" he huffed as he realized that he probably wouldn't make it to that appointment. Especially if Sam didn't come around soon… His green eyes slid over to the clock on the wall and he shook his head as he took another sip of his beer.

The buzzing of his phone was the next sound that Dean could remember. He groaned internally when his neck protested at the fucked up position he'd fallen asleep in. There's a reason why we invented the bed. He thought silently.

It took a moment for his brain to kick in when he didn't feel the bouncing happy bundle of little boy on his lap or the cartoons blaring from the small motel TV. That was when he remembered the whole incident at the bar. He glanced over at the bed and was surprised to find it very empty, though the sheets were messed up and the blanket was thrown back. He stood up, cracking his back in the process, and looked around the room, the sound of the water in the bathroom had him padding over to the door. He knocked quietly and waited for an answer.

The door pulled open instantly and a very tall, very confused young man leaned against the doorframe tiredly. He pointed at the bandage on his head. "You're handiwork?" He asked. His blue-green gaze looking intently at the shorter man. He'd removed his shirt and was currently making it a little hard for Dean to breathe as he leaned against the frame of the bathroom. It was obvious that he spent a fair amount of time in the gym. Since Dean was sure that no one had the right to look that spectacular half clothed in a strangers motel room after getting beat up the night before.

Dean smiled. "Yeah. You look like shit, dude." He wasn't a hundred percent sure that this guy even remembered his flipping name after the activities of the night before. But he knew that he'd be remembering the lanky kid he'd saved from a massive beat down for many years to come. Something about him was sticking in Dean's brain like a dart in a dartboard.

Sam snorted. "We don't know each other well enough for you to say stuff like that, Dean." He said with a smirk.

"Ah, so you do remember my name." He smiled. Dean shifted out of the way as Sam moved to exit the bathroom. He'd cleaned up a bit and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the unruly sable locks. Dean found his eyes raking over the other man looking for any injuries that he might have missed the night before. There was bruising on his ribcage, where Dean assumed he'd taken a swing from the bat, and another along his shoulder blades. But other than that he seemed to be okay…oh and the massive black eye and the cut on his face.

Dean hadn't exactly been sober when he'd wandered into that restroom so he couldn't be sure if Sam had been this way before or not. But when he'd walked in and saw a man on the floor bleeding from an obvious head wound and another one that was intent on doing far worse damage, it had kicked in Dean's training. He hadn't thought, he'd simply responded to the situation and then he'd found himself responsible for Sam.

Now as he stared at the tall man standing in just a pair of jeans and his bare feet…Dean was questioning the choice to bring Sam back here. He was about three inches taller than Dean himself was. He obviously liked the tanning beds and judging by the muscled chest and the toned abs, he must eat pretty well. His green eyes flashed up and he caught Sam watching him with an amused expression on his face. The mole near Sam's nose was doing nothing to alleviate the uncomfortable pressure Dean was feeling. The other man's eyes were an almond shape and they weren't exactly blue, but they weren't precisely green either. And the color combination was a bit on the intoxicating side. Okay, Dean…you're sleeping with the next woman who smiles at you. He thought as he spun around and scrubbed a hand down his face.

"Yeah…I remember your name. Thanks by the way." Sam said as he crossed to the bed and grabbed his sweater, pulling the soft blue material over his head and settling it on his lean hips. He leaned over and grabbed his boots, slipping his stocking covered feet inside. He'd managed to throw those on without Dean noticing. His shirt rode up slightly in the back and Dean found that he needed to walk away for a moment. He settled on heading into the small kitchen and grabbing the coffee and starting to brew a new pot.

Dean snorted. "Guy was gonna smash your head in. Not like I was gonna walk away from that." He swallowed as Sam turned around and pinned him with a serious look.

"Do you turn everything into a joke? Is that some sorta coping mechanism?" Sam tilted his head and waited for an answer while Dean sputtered across from him.

"What? I don't do that." Yeah, he so 'did' do that…but he wasn't gonna admit that to this lanky holier than thou…person. Because at the moment Dean just couldn't come up with a better word to describe Sam. He watched as the guy's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he smiled slightly, dimples that were impossibly charming popped out and Dean groaned inwardly.

"Okay…right…" He turned and looked around for his wallet, patting the back pockets of his jeans. The action made the other man smile and he shook his head slightly.

"It's on the table." Dean said quickly. He needed to get this guy back to the bar and out of his life. But a sudden sway in Sam's step had him rushing forward and slipping the taller man's arm over his shoulder. "Come on man, you're not in any condition to drive. How about I take you home and then…" He bit at his lower lip as he tried to think of a solution to the two-car thing.

"Gwen can pick it up." Sam offered instantly solving Dean's dilemma.

Dean wasn't sure why the mention of the woman's name sent a pang of something slicing through his chest as he nodded. He didn't know this guy and it wasn't likely that he was gonna get to know this guy.

TBC…

Author's Note: This idea wouldn't leave me alone. Maybe it's growing up on a farm myself or maybe it's just the idea of writing a fiction with horses in it…but I thought that two boys from Texas…should meet up in Texas. Dean would end up there because of something in his past and Sam would wind up back there because of family. This is a total AU, so please remember that. Also Please take the time to let me know if you guys are even interested in the direction of this story. It is a M/M between unrelated versions of Sam and Dean, with the occasional OC.

PLEASE REVIEW: So I know whether to post the other chapters.