Finally! The conclusion to my epic saga. It's the longest chapter, but there was really no good place to break it, so you get it all in one. A sincere to everyone who sent me their comments and encouragement, especially JackFan2. I absolutely loved how involved you got in this!! For the anonymous reviewers, I have no idea how to get back to you, so thank you very much! I appreciate you taking the time to let me know you were enjoying this story! Everyone else, feel free to give me a holler and let me know what you think!!

Dead or Alive

Chapter 7

The townspeople had managed to build an acceptable barricade across the main road with the help of overturned wagons and large barrels and crates from the livery and general store. It wasn't going to hold out a gang of men on horseback, but it would give them some protection against the raiders. Hopefully they would be able to turn back the attack long enough to come up with a plan B.

As he surveyed the preparations, Dean felt more than heard the people grow silent, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he turned to see the lone rider silhouetted against the orange blaze of the setting desert sun. He took a deep breath, his hand coming to rest on the grip of the Colt. The feel of the pistol sent a surge of energy through him and he stepped forward through the small group of townspeople to the edge of the barricade.

"That's far enough," he called in a low voice, pleased that no trace of the nervousness he felt could be detected in the steady tone.

The rider pulled up, stopping about ten yards from the edge of the blockade. He turned his horse to one side and leaned against the saddle horn, the reigns held loosely in his hands. His face was in shadows beneath the wide brim of his black Stetson, and his long, straight, black hair hung limply across the canvas duster covering his shoulders. He sat for a moment, taking in the barricade and the small huddle of townspeople behind it before turning his attention to Dean.

"So they found another fool to be their savior," he intoned, his voice grating on Dean's ears like gravel. "What's your name, boy?"

"Winchester," Dean saw no reason to lie. "Why?"

The outlaw shrugged. "I just like to know the names of the men I kill."

Dean grinned. "So do I."

The rider tilted his head, a smile of appreciation curving his lips. "The name's Stolas." He raised a hand and tipped back the brim of his hat.

A stray shaft of light filtered across his face allowing Dean to see his eyes flash an oily black.

A demon.

Terrific.

He didn't allow any reaction to show on his face.

"Have we met?" Stolas' eyes returned to their normal color, squinting as he took in the obviously undaunted young man in front of him.

Dean pursed his lips and gave a slow shake of his head. "Nope. "

"Yet you know what I am."

Dean let his disgust show. "I know."

Stolas nodded slowly. "And now, young Winchester, I know what you are." He sat up, waving a hand toward the small group of citizens of Ballarat. "Do you believe these cowards will stand and fight with you?"

Dean simply shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is what they believe."

Stolas eyes him for a moment before turning to the gathered townspeople. "I want this barricade down. You have ten minutes to decide. If it's still up when I return with my men, we'll burn this town to the ground." Without another word, he reigned in the horse, turned and galloped back out into the desert.

As soon as the demon was out of sight, Dean turned to the small group, the fear they felt apparent on their faces. Nobody moved for a moment as they all stood in the fading sunlight, none of them able to meet the hunter's gaze. Finally, Tyler stepped from the group toward the barricade, his intention obvious. As he reached for the first crate, Dean grabbed him from behind, spinning the larger man and shoving him back into the undercarriage of an overturned wagon.

"Don't," he said, his voice low and threatening. His hands were fisted in the man's suit coat, his eyes blazing as he held the frightened ones of the hotel owner's.

"You don't understand," Tyler pleaded, his own voice trembling, telegraphing his fear. "If we don't do what he says, he'll kill us all…" his eyes drifted to Grace, who was standing to the side on the board walk, her arms tightly wound around one of the bracing beams. "… or worse."

Dean's eyes shifted momentarily to the young girl, understanding Tyler's implications. His anger seemed to suddenly deflate, the full scope of the man's dilemma hitting home. He knew what it was like to do things you didn't want to for the sake of your family. He knew what it took to protect the ones you loved.

But if they didn't stand up to Stolas, if they didn't face their fear, their nightmare would never end.

And neither would his.

He eased his hands away from the man's suit coat and stepped back, turning to address the entire town.

"Look, I get it, okay? Believe me, I do. But this," he waved a hand at the desert where Stolas had disappeared. "This is not going to end if you give in to it." He ran a hand across his hair, struggling to find the words to convince these people of what they had to do. He wished like hell that Sam was here. All the younger Winchester would have to do was give them the earnest expression, pleading voice and puppy eyes and they'd all be lining up to follow him.

Unfortunately, Dean was not the orator of the family.

But he was the one who had always been able to make things work out… more or less.

"This town," he began, his voice low and soft. "could go on just like this. Living in fear of what might happen. None of you will be able to move on, and your families, the people you're trying to protect? They're suffering needlessly because of it." He looked them in the eye, one by one. "You know it's the truth. Deep down, you have to know this is not real. If you really care about your families, if you truly care about his town, you'll do what is necessary to let it, let them, move on." He paused, not knowing if he was getting through to them at all.

"Men have died out here trying to help you. Innocent men with families of their own, families who will never know what happened. My brother, right now, is probably out there searching for me, wondering if I'm dead or alive. Can you live with the fact that you're responsible for all those deaths? That you're responsible for all the pain those families, my brother, will have to go through not knowing what happened to me?" He sighed in frustration. "I don't want to die here. But it's my job to help you. But you need to help yourselves. Or else you'll be trapped in this same nightmare forever."

It was one of the longest speeches he had ever given, and he could only hope it was one of the best received.

The townspeople hadn't moved, they all still stood, heads down as they considered Dean's words. He closed his eyes, his own head dropping in defeat as the minutes ticked by.

"He's right."

Dean's head snapped up, his eyes wide in surprise as he watched Mrs. Walker walk onto the dirt street and cross to his side. She gave him a sad smile then turned to address the rest of the townspeople.

"This young man knew what he was getting into, yet he stayed to help us anyway. I know this is of my own doing. I regret that and will accept your blame. But we cannot continue to turn a blind eye to our own predicament. We must end this. Now. If not for ourselves, then for all those who have given their lives…" she turned placed a hand on Dean's arm, "or are willing to do so, to save us."

Dean felt a presence on his other side and turned to see Grace press against him. "It's time we stood up to our fears," she smiled up at him. "Even though it's easier to believe what you need to, sometimes you need to believe what you have to." She walked to her father and put both arms around him. "Please, father. We need to believe we can end this. We have to try."

Tyler hesitated a moment before lacing his own arms around the small form of his daughter. "You may be right, Grace. But I'm afraid it may be far too late for any of us."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

"Stop! Over there!" Sam pointed to a familiar looking piece of material flapping like a flag in the acrid desert breeze.

Ellie turned the Jeep to the right, angling between the loose sand and brush in a winding route. As they approached the tethered fabric, Sam jumped from the still moving vehicle, landing solidly on his feet and crossing the dry, packed earth in two giant strides.

He pulled the tattered shirt from the bramble bush it was caught on and held it up to the deputy. "It's Dean's!" he yelled to be heard over the rumble of the Jeep's engine. He dropped his arms and let his eyes roam over the desolate desert landscape. "Damnit, Dean. Where are you?" he muttered to himself, searching for any sign of his brother's presence.

A sudden echoing pop rolled across the distance, causing Sam to turn in a circle, trying to determine the direction it had come from.

"That was a gunshot," Ellie announced. She cut the engine and jumped from the driver's side, slowly moving across the dirt to Sam's side, her eyes playing across the distance in a mirror to his.

Two more quick shots echoed in the silence, causing both of them to jump in surprise.

"The ghost town," Ellie whispered as the echoes rolled away and the silence returned.

"How far?"

The young deputy shrugged. "A few miles, just over that rise," she turned to him, her eyes wide with worry. "But we don't know it was your brother, Sam. For all we know it could've been some local shooting at a rabbit."

Sam shook his head, his eyes still trained on the sun beginning to set on the horizon. "No. It's Dean." He held up a hand to stop the deputy from responding. "Don't ask me how I know. I just know." He turned and stalked back to the Jeep. "And if my brother is shooting at something, trust me, it's hell of a lot more evil than a rabbit."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsns

Dean swallowed hard as he watched the group of riders make their way toward the edge of the town. There were at least ten men riding behind Stolas, most of them armed with rifles that were pointed in the air, ready to be aimed and fired at a moment's notice. Stolas smiled as he weaved his horse between the scattered remnants of what was left of the barricade, its pieces carelessly strewn apart and lying useless in the dusty street.

A few of the citizens of Ballarat remained in view, but most peaked out from behind windows and doors as the outlaw rode quietly into the center of town, stopping only a few yards from the lone man with the courage to face him.

"So, Winchester," Stolas made a show of looking around, his hands moving to indicate the empty street behind him. "Looks like you put your trust in the wrong place. It looked like the good people of Ballarat have forsaken you."

Dean narrowed his eyes as he stared up at the outlaw. "Looks like."

"Yet you still stand here, willing to die for them. I will never understand you hunters. Why you would risk your life for these dogs is beyond me."

Dean nodded slowly. "I'm sure it is. But it's actually pretty simple. They're human. And even the lowest most cowardly human is a step above a demon scum like you in my book."

Stolas grinned as he looked down his nose at the young man before him. "I like you, Winchester. It's a shame you have to die."

"Everyone dies," Dean responded. "Even demons."

He suddenly dove to the right, pulling the Colt with blazing speed from it's holster and fired a shot at Stolas. The demon reared his mount, causing the shot to miss its intended target. The horse took the bullet in the neck and began to falter, throwing the demon as it crashed to the ground. Stolas pulled his own pistol and fired a return shot as Dean dove behind a water trough. The bullet impacted the thick wood, gouging a groove into the top and raining wood slivers down onto the young hunter's body.

At the first sound of the gunshot, the people of the town reacted in unison, pulling rifles and revolvers from behind the doors and walls of their hiding places. They took aim as the rest of Stolas' gang rode into the town in defense of their leader. None of the outlaws had been expecting the resistance and at first, the townspeople were able to pick them off, sending some to the ground and others to cover behind the overturned wagons.

The outlaws quickly reacted and returned fire, some finding their targets as a few of the townspeople fell, their hands held to their bleeding wounds. But as each casualty hit the ground, the bodies began to disappear before the blood could even seep into the dry desert dirt.

Dean watched in morbid fascination as the man who'd rescued him from the desert took a shot to the chest, twisting and falling to the ground with a grunt, only to simply fade into nothing a moment later. After a few moments, the sounds of the gun battle ceased and Dean chanced a look around the edge of the trough.

They were gone.

All of them.

The townspeople had carried out the ambush perfectly. Stolas and his gang had ridden right into the center of town, confident the people had run again, leaving Dean alone to fight their battle. In his arrogance, Stolas hadn't considered that he'd just walked right into the center of a planned crossfire. He'd never considered that the people he'd been terrorizing for a hundred years would finally realize that it was their fight to win. That they could win.

Another bullet grazed the edge of the trough, cutting a stinging path against his temple. He pulled himself back, his vision swimming as he dropped his head to the ground, trying to hold back the sudden pain that threatened to steel his breath. Rolling to his back, he squeezed his eyes tightly and breathed through his nose in an attempt to fight the nausea that unexpectedly assaulted him.

His ringing ears picked up the sound of slow footsteps and a moment later he felt a shadow fall over him, blocking the fiery red of the setting sun from assaulting his closed eyelids. He forced his eyes open, only to find himself staring up into the form of the demon, silhouetted against the setting sun.

"So," Stolas' voice no longer sounded human, the echoing tone causing Dean to wince despite his aching head. The demon had his gun trained on Dean's head, his finger pressed against the trigger. "You were able to save them after all, Hunter. Maybe that will give you solace after I send you to Hell."

Dean took a deep breath and, with speed borne of desperation, rolled away from the trough, bringing the Colt up in a steady arc. "After you," he responded coldly. He pulled the trigger twice, the sounds of the shots echoing away into the desert.

snsnsnsnsnsnssnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

Ellie pulled the Jeep onto the deserted street of Ballarat. Most of the buildings of the town were in ruins, a few of the storefronts still upright behind the broken boards of the raised walkway. There were dry desert weeds growing up between the ruins of the buildings, small tumble weeds blowing across the barren dirt, catching on the pieces of broken wagons and wooden railings that littered the main street of the ghost town.

As she slowly pulled the vehicle to a stop, Sam opened his door and stepped out onto the hard packed dirt, his eyes quickly scanning the area for any sign of his brother. A slight movement to his left caught his attention and his sight focused on the shadow behind the over-turned water trough. As he squinted through the encroaching darkness he could just make out the dark green material of Dean's t-shirt.

"Dean!"

Without bothering to close the door of the SUV, Sam bolted toward the far side of the street, sliding to his knees as he came within reach of his brother's prone body.

Carefully, he rolled the unconscious man to his back, supporting his head against his leg as he slapped the sunburned cheek gently.

"Dean, man, come one. Wake up, Dean!" He breathed a sigh of relief as the older man emitted a low groan, his head moving to reveal a shallow gouge of dark, congealed blood near his left temple.

"Here," Ellie slid to a halt behind him, her boots kicking up dust from the dry desert earth. She opened the lid of the canteen and held it out to Sam, then dropped to her knees as he poured some of the liquid into his brother's open mouth.

Dean immediately began to cough as the water touched his parched throat, his face scrunching in pain and his hand rising to fist in the sleeve of Sam's shirt.

"Easy," Sam soothed, lifting the canteen to his brother's chapped lips as soon as the coughing had settled. "Just take it easy, Dean. I gotcha."

The familiar voice seemed to ease the older man's discomfort and he allowed the canteen to be tipped, savoring the cool water as it quieted the fire in his mouth and throat. After a few small sips, he opened his eyes, relieved to see the face of his brother floating above him.

"Hey," Sam smiled, his eyes shining in relief. "Never really took you for a sun worshipper."

"I'm all about the bikinis, dude." Dean's voice was barely a whisper and Sam held up the canteen for him to take another careful sip.

"Yeah, well there's no beach around here, man. I think you're gonna have to have your sense of direction checked."

Dean nodded and grinned, wincing as one of the cracks in his dry lips split and began to bleed. "My sense of direction is fine. I was heading toward the ocean."

"And you would've made it," Ellie chimed in. "In about another 500 miles or so."

"See," Dean coughed roughly. "Internal GPS is perfectly fine."

"Right," Sam laughed, his hand moving to touch the bruised skin around the gouge in his brother's head. "This looks like a gunshot wound," he said quietly, his eyes connecting momentarily with Ellie's before he returned his attention to his brother, noting Dean's eyes beginning to drift closed again. "Hey, hey, Dean. Stay awake."

"Tired, Sammy."

"I know, man. I just need you to stay awake a little longer."

"S'okay, Sam. Saved 'em. Used the Colt."

Ellie placed a hand on Dean's cheek, frowning at the dry heat of his skin. "He's way to hot, Sam. Probably suffering from heat stroke. We need to get him out of the heat and cooled down as soon as possible." She stood up quickly. "I'm going to move the Jeep closer. If we can get him in the back and back to Lone Pine quickly, he should be okay." Without waiting for a response, she gave Sam a pat on the shoulder then moved quickly back toward the parked vehicle.

"Hey, Dean," Sam shook his brother slightly, eliciting another groan. "Come on, man. What about the Colt?" On top of the heat stroke, he suspected his brother had a concussion from whatever had caused the wound on his head and he needed to keep Dean from falling asleep until they got him back to town and thoroughly checked out.

What did the Colt gave to do with this? The gun had disappeared when Dad had died. Although they suspected it was now in the hands of the Yellow Eyed Demon, they really had no clue what had happened to it. For Dean to bring it up now… either something unbelievable had happened or the desert had truly fried his brother's brain. "Dean, talk to me. What about the ghost town? What about the Colt?"

"It was a demon, Sammy." Dean coughed a bit as his voice scraped against his throat. "The town finally stood up to it. Walker's gun… the Colt…"

"Dean!" Sam could tell his brother was fading and slapped him a few times lightly on the cheek. "No sleeping." He splashed some of the water across his brother's face, getting an instant reaction. Sam simply smiled and placed a hand on his forehead to hold him down. "Easy, just needed you to wake up, dude. No sleeping on the job." He ignored Dean's weak look of contempt. "What do you mean the town stood up to the demon? Dean, there's nothing here."

Dean opened his eyes fully at the statement. He struggled a moment to get his arms beneath him and, with Sam's help, was able to push himself up from his prone position, swallowing hard as the horizon tilted for a moment. He felt Sam's arm circle his shoulder, keeping him upright and bracing him from crashing back to the hard ground. AS soon as the world stopped spinning, he chanced a look at the town, his breath catching in his throat as he looked out upon the decay of the old wooden buildings.

Sam was beginning to worry as his brother began to list sideways. He caught him just as Ellie pulled the Jeep close to them on the far side of the trough. "Dean?"

Dean's eyes roamed across the ruins of what, in his mind, was a thriving western settlement. He strained to hear the sound of the horses clopping along the street, or the whirring of the wheels as the wagons rolled along. But all he could hear was his own ragged breathing. He snorted a soft laugh through his nose, knowing that it was all gone – if it had ever been there at all. He reached up, placing the back of his hand against his brother's chest and giving him a weak tap. "It's okay, Sammy. Job's done."

Sam simply nodded, his face a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Good, Dean. I want to hear everything. But right now, let's get you out of here and back to a nice air-conditioned hospital, huh?"

Dean raised his eyes, not even arguing about the proposed destination. "Air conditioning sounds good."

Sam smiled. "I'll bet."

As Ellie opened the back door, Sam stood, stooping to help Dean unsteadily rise to his feet. He placed a hand around his brother's waist and slung a limp arm over his shoulder, maneuvering the injured man around the wooden trough and to the back door of the Jeep.

As they approached the SUV, Dean placed a hand against the open door frame and turned to Sam, a frown on his face. "Dude, my car. The Impala's –"

"Already taken care of, Dean," Sam interrupted. "The car's fine." He motioned with his chin to the gash on his brother's head, reaching out a hand to steady the older man as he swayed dangerously. "Which is more than I can say for you."

"I'm good," Dean replied with a grin. "What do you say we look for our next job in, I don't know, Alaska?"

Sam simply shook his head in fond exasperation and gently pushed him into the back seat of the Jeep. Dean leaned his head against the cool glass of the back window as Sam and Ellie took their seats in the front, his eyes capturing a last look at the deserted town. He still wasn't sure if it had been real or just a figment of his imagination, but he felt confident the ghosts of Ballarat were now at peace.

As for the Colt. He had fired three of those six missing bullets. He had no idea if the gun that had felt so solid in his hand was in fact the actual Colt they would find a hundred years later, but the balance of the weapon, the feel of the grip and the smooth release of the bullet had felt right. The legend says that the gun had been made for a hunter. Maybe, just maybe, it had found it's rightful owner again. He could only believe that the gun, wherever the hell it was, would turn up again.

Ellie shifted the vehicle into drive and with a nod from Sam, began the long trek back to Lone Pine. As the Jeep pulled out, Dean's eyes were drawn to the hard packed dirt near the trough where the last remnants of the setting sun caught the edge of a tarnished silver badge half buried in the dry desert sand.

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

"There's still one thing I don't get." Deputy Elizabeth Paloma sat on the edge of the chair near the door of the motel room, her eyes watching the man who was propped up against the mound of pillows on the far bed.

Dean turned his head and returned her gaze. They had made a stop at the local hospital at Ellie's insistence. He had been given intravenous fluids and they had stitched the wound on his head, but he had insisted on returning to the motel despite the doctor's recommendation that he be admitted for observation. He had even agreed to spend the evening resting in bed as long as Sam didn't hover. It had been his idea for his brother and the pretty deputy to go to dinner – if said brother would ever get done primping and escort the nice your lady out.

But, until Sam was showered and shaved and smelled like a walking flower bed, it was Dean's responsibility to entertain the deputy, so he raised his eyebrows innocently.

"Only one thing?"

She smiled. "Good point." She pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear and leaned forward, the loose ends of her chestnut locks brushing her bare shoulders. She had taken the time to change into a simple yellow sundress that tied halter style behind her neck and Dean had to admit, he appreciated the view. "I still don't understand why those bodies were drained of blood." She shook her head the tan skin of her forehead puckering in a frown. "Let's assume for now they died in the same weird vision thing you were caught in, what exactly happened to them?"

Dean shrugged and pursed his lips, lying his head back against the pillow. "I don't know." He admitted. "As near as we can figure, they must have been shot by the demon and bleed out in the vision. If that happened to them there…" he let his voice trail off, hoping the explanation would be enough for the young deputy.

Dean had been surprised at how much Sam had told her about them and their lives. He hadn't gone so far as to tell her their real names, and it was obvious she knew they were still keeping secrets from her, but apparently she had seen and heard enough to know they weren't the bad guys and it seemed to be enough for her.

Besides, she obviously had the hots for his little brother, and who was he to let a simple explanation of a haunting get in the way of young romance?

Sam finally opened the bathroom door, tugging at the hem of his white button up shirt. The shirt was a little short on his lanky body, but judging from Ellie's smile, it wasn't going to be a problem.

"I'm ready," he announced as he tossed his dirty clothes toward the duffle back on the floor beside the bed.

Ellie stood, giving him a pretty smile. "Then we should probably get going. This is one of the best Italian places in town. It fills up pretty fast."

Sam nodded and grabbed his cell off the dresser before crossing the room and opening the door for Ellie.

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" Ellie looked back at Dean, her eyes sincere with the question.

"Or we could bring you something back." Dean shifted his eyes to his brother, whose hurried offer was a bit less sincere than the young woman's. He laughed softly and snuggled down into the soft pillows.

"No thanks, Ellie. You two have fun. I'm just gonna catch a movie and get some z's like the doctor ordered."

"Okay. Bye, Dean."

He waved a hand, smirking as he caught the look of relief on Sam's face.

Before he pulled the door closed, Sam stuck his head back in, a slight expression of guilt pulling at his mouth. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Go. Eat. Just bring me back some lasagna and we'll call it good."

Sam gave him a grateful grin and nodded eagerly before softly closing the door.

Dean shook his head, chuckling at the eagerness his brother had shown at the chance of spending a little more time with the lovely deputy. He picked up the remote and clicked on the television situated on the stand at the end of the bed. He frowned as the familiar theme from one of his favorite movies, Silverado, reverberated through the small speaker, watching for a moment as Kevin Kline faced off against Brian Dennehy in the deserted old west street. His chest grew tight as a moment later he noticed he'd forgotten to breathe, the showdown on screen hitting a bit too close to his memories of the much more personal one in Ballarat.

With a swallow of his suddenly dry throat, Dean quickly hit the button, changing the channel to a brightly colored episode of South Park. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the one-dimensional little cartoon kids argued with the equally one dimensional mad scientist. Grinning at their antics, he let his body relax as the cool air and the crisp sheets slowly lulled him to sleep.

The End