"Dad! What …" Sam groaned as John tugged him into the seat from the front wheel well. "What's … my head. It hurts."

"I'm sorry, Sammy. It'll be over soon. Don't worry, son. I won't let anything happen to you." He tossed clothes at him, and exited the truck to give the boy privacy. "Here. Get dressed."

Sam's eyes widened as he suddenly realized he was still only wearing a towel. "What the hell, Dad!" He blushed furiously as he yanked the boxers, jeans and flannel on as quickly as he could. He stepped out of the passenger side, and John was suddenly right beside him. "Come with me, Sam."

But Sam balked. "What! No! Where's Dean? Dad, what's going on?"

John's eyes flared. "It's just you and me, Sam. Just like I said. Now we have a job to do. The question is, will you do it?"

Sam suddenly understood. He felt sick. "No." He whispered. "I'm not going to play bait so you can get some weird sense of vindication."

John stared at his son for a moment. "So you won't do it?"

"No! Now take me back to the motel!"

John nodded. "Sure, son. I'll take you back."

Sam let out a relieved breath. He'd been certain Dad was ready to just toss him off the end of the pier. He climbed back into the truck and pulled his seatbelt around, clicking it into place, looking over when John slid in beside him with a thermos.

"Here." John offered, looking guilty. "It's cold out here tonight. Drink this. It will warm you up."

"What is it?" Sam wrinkled his nose and asked suspiciously, knowing his father's penchant for whiskey.

John snorted. "It's just coffee, Sam. Hot coffee. Go on, it will warm you up."

Sam opened the thermos and sniffed. Then he smiled and took a sip. It was hot and sweet and smooth, just the way he liked it. He'd drunk nearly half the container before he realized how odd that was - Dad took his coffee strong and black - just like Dean. Why would he have …

Sam felt dizzy.

His vision blurred.

He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, realizing they were still parked and not heading back to the motel.

"Daaad …" He slurred. "Nooo."

John stared at his son. The guilt was back and magnified at seeing his youngest son all doped up, but it was a means to an end that had to happen.

Maybe it was better this way. He stepped out of the truck for a second time and moved to the passenger side. Reaching in, he unhooked Sam's belt and brought the boy's long legs around. He helped him stand.

"You okay there, Sammy?" He asked, stepping back to see whether Sam could stand. He was pleased to see the boy was wobbly but vertical, bare feet and all. He looked up and froze.

Damn. The look on his son's face.

Those damned eyes that hid nothing.

John swallowed hard and tugged Sam forward by the hands. "You'll understand one day, Sammy. You will. I promise."

Sam was terrified. He could feel and see everything that was happening to him, but he was helpless to stop it. He could only move forward when John tugged him and stop when he stopped him. He couldn't even fall down. He knew because he'd tried. He tried to plead with his father.

"Da ...d. Puh … pl … ease. Don't."

"Shhh, Sammy. It's going to be fine."

Sam was crying as his father led him quietly along the dock. He knew this was going to end badly. "Da … Dad! Don't, plea … lease."

"Man up, Sam. This won't take long."

"Wha …"

John stopped and took pity on the boy he'd raised for sixteen years. "Sammy, look." He turned the boy to face him and spoke without meeting his eyes. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm telling you this so you can prepare yourself. It won't be that bad, I promise. You won't be in the water any more than a minute or two and then I'll pull you right back out, okay? There's no reason to be afraid. You're my son, Sam. I won't let anything happen to you."

Sam couldn't remember ever being this scared in his life. His father was going to push him in. He was going to sacrifice him to satisfy some imagined debt to one of his pedophile friends. "No! Dad! No!" His voice was gaining volume, and Sam saw John smile.

"Go ahead and yell, Sam. No one's out here to hear you - well, except the sea hag, that is." He tugged Sam's arm again.

Up ahead, Sam could see the end of the dock approaching. He tried to drag his feet, pull away, fall down - anything he could do to slow the approach of that deep, dark drop into frigid waters. He wouldn't survive it this time, he knew. He was too drugged, too out of it. If Dad pushed him over. He was dead. He dragged in a ragged sob.

"Hold up." John instructed, digging in his duffle. To Sam's horror, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a long coil of rope. He tried to take a step back. "No!"

"Shh. Hush, boy. Stop being so dramatic." John sighed as he tugged Sam's hands behind him and slipped the icy steel cuffs over his son's already frozen wrists. He clicked them into place, ignoring the boy's shudder. Then he threaded the rope through Sam's belt loops and tied it off at the middle of his back like a leash.

He stepped back to study his handiwork and nodded. It would do. He spun Sam back around and gave him a small shove forward. "Walk, boy."

But Sam wouldn't. He'd regained enough motor function to resist at least that much.

"Dammit, Sam! I said move!" John barked, stepping in front of the boy and pulling roughly on his arm.

Sam moved then. He had no choice.

###

Mike yawned, then jerked awake with a start. Dammit. He'd fallen asleep. The first thing he did was hustle up on deck to check the position of Jonesy's Wager. He was relieved to see it seemed to have stopped its sideways creep. He sighed and scratched and was about to retire back below deck when he heard a shout.

He listened again, straining to see out into the darkness.

Nothing.

He turned.

"Dad! No!"

Mike stiffened. That voice. He was sure he knew it. He stuck his head inside the cabin.

"Skip! Wake up!"

JayJay was instantly alert. He stepped out into the hallway. "What is it?"

"Trouble, I think."

JayJay nodded. "Wait for me. Do not try to handle it alone."

Mike heard footsteps. It sounded like two people - one stepping along normally, the other shuffling awkwardly. He ducked back inside, dousing his flashlight, and trained his eyes on the dock.

As he watched, two figures came closer - a man and a boy - the man was dragging the kid by an arm and it looked as though the boy had his hands tied behind him. The kid was barefoot without even a jacket, and it sounded like he was crying quietly. As they passed by, Mike saw the kid look up at the boat in recognition and draw in a ragged breath.

Sammy.

It looked as though he was about to shout for help when the man's hand closed over his mouth and Mike heard a loudly whispered "Fuck!".

Without another thought, Mike was on deck and clamboring down onto the dock.

"Sammy!"

###

Everything happened so fast after that.

Sam saw Mike leap onto the dock, looking like he was ready to kill or be killed. From the direction of the parking lot, he heard Dean's voice call his name, and then all he knew was cold and blackness and terror like he'd never before experienced.

The water was so cold, it took his breath instantly. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think. He couldn't move his hands, and he was sinking.

He was sinking so fast.

He was going to die. He'd gone in unprepared, not even a single deep breath to get him ahead of the game. He'd gone in mid-shout. And he was already out of time when he heard first one splash and then another.

But he was on the bottom now, and too far down for anyone to reach him in time.

He felt an intense wave of sadness engulf him. This was going to be so hard on Dean.

Then strong hands were on him, and they were pulling toward the surface. Midway up, they were joined by a second pair of hands.

Seconds later, Dean and JayJay popped up from the icy depths, holding Sam between them. They held him in strong arms and tossed the rope that encircled him skyward. Using the rope, Mike pulled them up, one-by-one, bringing JayJay up last.

And all the three men could do was lie on the dock like fresh-caught fish and gasp for the breath needed to fill their frozen lungs.

But John could still move. Dragging himself to his feet from the spot where someone - probably Mike or Bobby - had dropped him, he ran for the small outboard that bobbed, ready and waiting, in the far shadows of Jonesy's Wager. Sam heard the sputter of the engine as it roared to life, and he tried to shout out a warning. But he was too late.

John was away from the dock and heading out into open water before anyone could move. Sam saw him look back once, his face expressionless, as he headed out to sea.

Sam's eyes filled with tears then. He would have died here along these stark, rocky banks. He'd have died, and no one would have ever known what happened to him, his only memorial a cold watery grave that no one ever came to visit.

His own father ...

He sobbed.

But then he felt a hand on him, and he looked over. Dean lay there, not two feet away, and he was reading Sam's mind like he had since before Sam could remember. The older boy smiled. "Not on my watch, Sammy." He coughed out, one trembling hand outstretched to comfort his brother anywhere he could reach him. And Sam smiled back through tears of betrayal and caught Dean's hand in his own. The strength he found there - life-saving.

Bobby knelt next to them, placing his jacket over both of his frozen boys, when movement out in the water caught his eye.

She was there. Only Bobby saw her surface next to the dock, her long, dark hair swirling around her like a living thing. She hovered there, watching as John slipped away in Jonesy's boat. She locked eyes with Bobby for only for a moment, nodding, before turning and trailing John out into open water.

Bobby let his eyes drift upward then to the breaking of a blood-red dawn on the horizon. It was going to be another stormy day at sea.

But for him and his boys, the long trick was finally over.

- END -

Author's Note: Thank you to every one who followed along on this latest adventure. Your feedback, your reviews, your encourage make all the hard work worthwhile. Beyond research, I have no real knowledge of Alaskan crab fishing, how the Coast Guard works or how a young Navajo skipper might actually speak, and at no time throughout this whole story did anyone point that out to me :) You guys rock.