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musings-of-a-lovesick-fool · 10 months

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Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4k

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The air was heavy. Or maybe Dean's body was just being weighed down by the sight before him. The woman he'd helped, who he had still failed to ask the name of even now, was knelt in the mud sobbing over a corpse. Two spears with Eden's Gate's symbol on the end of them dug deep into the lifeless body. An Australian cattle dog with black and white fur, Boomer—he knew the dog's name at least—sat at his feet. His small head was bowed and he whined like he was mourning the loss just like the woman before them.

Arriving at the farm had felt like a dream, or a nightmare to be more accurate. His newly made guide had sprung into a blind rage before Dean had time to think, and that's how they'd ended up surrounded by multiple bodies littering the ground. The ones still breathing were his handiwork and the ones he refused to look at his companion's doing. He'd never been more intimidated by a four foot tall woman with a shovel in his life.

Dean didn't know what to do with himself now, he absently petted Boomers head, eyes focused on the deep red mixing in with the wet earth. He was no good at comforting people, what would he even say at a time like this? 'Sorry your friend was murdered by a religious cult, I'm sure it was long and painful'? Yeah, no. Dean glanced at her, watching her soft face contort as she clutched onto the stained and ripped shirt, shaking her head and mumbling curses through her cries.

Dutch's words couldn't help but creep into the edge of his mind, something about people wanting to help but needing direction… He sighed, shook his head and took a step forward. This was a real shitty way to get that direction. He placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, nearly jumping as her other hand shot back to grab onto it like it was a life raft.

"We need to get these assholes—they can't get away with this." She snarled tearfully, anger ablaze in her bloodshot eyes as she looked back at him. Dean could only bring himself to nod, he agreed, obviously. He struggled on the wording, he forgot one of the most important things about this whole thing. Resistances barely ever ended with an arrest, people who were wronged would always want blood. And he wasn't about to stand in her way, as much as he wanted to minimise the life count here. Getting caught in the crossfire of that firefight would be more detrimental to him than anything.

The woman softened as Boomer nudged her arm, sneaking under her and whining. She let go of Dean to wrap her arms around the pup, leaning her head on his and sobbing a bit more quietly. She looked tired, the kind of tired years usually took out of you. Dean really wished Whitehorse were here—or Joey, she seemed to always have some kind of advice for him. Maybe once he got to her she could share some of that advice on how to fix this mess.

"Alright," She let out a long exhale and wiped her eyes, "I told you we'd take you to Fall's End…" She looked up at Dean and he almost felt like telling her to forget about it. He would stumble upon it eventually surely. But she held her hand out and he took it, helping her up once again. She cast another mournful look downward before walking away into the house. Dean stayed put, watching Boomer as he looked between his dead owners.

The sight reminded him of when an old widow passed away on his street, she had baked cookies for the neighbourhood kids every Sunday and had an old Basset hound almost as old as her. She'd passed away in summer—He and Jacob had found her in her living room with the hound on her lap, he had looked like he was crying just like Boomer did now…

The jingle of metal drew Dean's attention to the door and there the woman stood with car keys in one hand and a rifle in the other. Her cheeks were tear stained and her bottom lip still wobbled as she spoke.

"My name is Blair, forgot to introduce myself… Do you know how to use this?" She offered the rifle to Dean as she stepped off the porch and he took hold of it with a sigh and a nod.

"Yep." Technically he did. He did now anyway. He wished he still didn't.

"Okay, I'll drive and you make sure you gun down any peggie bastard you see." She instructed, walking past him to the car parked a bit away. Dean felt his blood run cold at the order, he wasn't sure he could do that. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He thought back to the panicked drive with the Marshal, the way he'd been so sure to shoot out tires and avoid hitting anyone. But even then a careless toss of dynamite and panicked screams echoed on and the ghosts tied to his ankles were only growing in number one by one.

Blair walked to the car and Dean was close to following after her but a particularly pitiful whine from Boomer made him pause. He glanced at Blair who shared a look with him as she hovered by the drivers side door. They couldn't leave him here, more peggies could show up and who knows what they'd do to the poor thing.

"C'mon boy," Dean pet the dog's side gently, guiding him to the car and opening up the back door for him. Boomer hopped in and curled up on the backseat, giving the heartiest sigh Dean had ever heard from a dog. He hopped into the passenger seat, put his seat belt on and rested the rifle in his lap. Blair put the key into the ignition with a fire in her eyes that made Dean want to grab onto the hand holds—He didn't, but maybe he should have. When she finally put her foot on the gas Dean felt himself fly back in his seat, the back of his head almost comically bouncing off the headrest. He braced himself on the center console as she swerved out of the driveway.

"Jesus," he muttered, Blair huffing out a small apology as she gunned it down the road. Dean glanced in the backseat, finding Boomer now on the floor behind Blair's seat, a similar surprise in his big brown eyes. Dean laughed, he couldn't help it, and he saw Blair crack half a smile as he ran a hand down his face. After righting himself he wound down the window, the wind blowing by sending his hair flying in his face. He reared back, hurriedly pushing the dark brown strands out of his eyes.

"There's a cap in the back, probably wanna put it on."

Dean nodded at the suggestion and twisted around, being met with Boomer holding the faded blue cap between his teeth. He held it out to Dean and gave the deputy pause, this was one smart dog. That could come in handy. He took it, ruffling his head with a small thanks before tugging the cap onto his head. Now with his hair out of his eyes Dean settled back in the seat and kept his eyes on the side of the road. He was hoping they wouldn't pass by any peggies at all but luck hadn't been on his side so far. It felt like it hadn't been on his side in a while.

They sped down quite a large stretch of road without seeing anything, it almost let Dean forget about what led him to being in the car with Blair and Boomer. The wind was refreshing against his face and the hum of the engine under his feet would have been enough to lull him to sleep had he been more relaxed. It had been a while since he'd been in the passenger seat, once he'd gotten his licence he barely ever let anyone else drive him around. He forgot how nice it could be. Not having to think and just enjoying the views that went by.

A scream interrupted that fragile peace all too soon.

Boomer let out a startled bark, jumping back onto the seat and sticking his head out of the back window as he searched for the source of the pained cry. Dean tightened his grip on the rifle in his hand, putting the barrel up on the window frame as he readied himself to fire warning shots. The anxiety in his stomach resurfaced as they rounded a bend, another small group of peggies stood along the side of the road, two corpses crumpled at their feet on the asphalt. The car jolted forward, Blair putting her foot further down on the gas as she hunched forward.

The car swerved and Dean fell back in his seat before he knew what was happening. The peggies up ahead turned as the sound of the car veering towards them finally registered and Dean locked eyes with all three as Blair aimed for them. That hadn't been part of the plan, but he wasn't about to offer the pissed off redhead next to him any criticism. The peggies attempted to move, their bodies twisting and bending but they didn't make it very far before the bonnet rammed into them. One after the other they rolled, their bodies flying with the impact and disappearing behind the car before Dean could even blink.

He tried to ignore the way the car rocked as whatever under them got under the tires and made for a short, bumpy surface. He also tried to ignore the new splatters of red on the cracked windshield as Blair continued down the road. He clutched the rifle in his hands, now aimed at the roof of the car as he sat unaligned in his chair. Blair let out a ragged breath, her short fingers stretched out before wrapping around the steering wheel again, her shoulders sagging a small fraction.

Silence fell over them, the road clear and smooth and the Valley all too quiet.

"Sorry." Blair muttered out after a moment, glancing at him through the rear view mirror. He nodded, finally readjusting in his seat and shaking his head, clearing his throat as he dared a glance in the rearview himself. Blair's expression was a mix of anger and shock, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done but couldn't bring herself to regret it. He could understand that, kind of.

"S'fine. Let's just… Keep to the road, yeah?" He offered a lousy, weak smile and Blair nodded with her own tight lipped excuse of a smile.

Boomer whined from the backseat and Dean reached back to offer a small pat of comfort, poor boy probably wasn't used to the high action of a… Hit and run? That's kinda what they just did wasn't it? Fuck. He felt more sure than ever of his choice to leave his badge behind, carrying that around would be more ironic than anything now.

Luckily for Dean and perhaps Blair too, the rest of the way to Fall's End was clear. Unfortunately however, as they neared the town Dean picked up a transmission from Mary May Fairgrave and the tone of it was less than optimistic. The first thing they spotted when coming up to the town was the burnt remains of a building, which made the small sparks of hope in Dean truly flake out. Blair cursed under her breath and turned off road again, slowing down and rolling the car a ways behind the burnt building.

She killed the engine and sat back with another huff of breath, brown eyes flicking around wildly as she muttered a bit under her breath and chewed on her thumb nail. Dean let her be, unbuckling himself and scooting out of the car carefully, keeping his eyes out for any peggies that may have been wandering. They were just outside of Fall's End, he could see the small stretch of town and blurry figures walking around with a hell of a lot more guns than they currently had. Boomer hopped out of the car and settled beside him, growling lowly at the invaders ahead of them.

"I dunno if we'll be able to take these guys out on our own, I know a couple up a ways. The Rye's, they've got a plane and might be able to help us out here." Blair leant over the centre console, talking in a hushed tone as she gestured behind her shoulder. Dean shuffled back to the car, tugging his backpack off and pulling the map out of it once more. He spread it out on the seat and Blair looked it over, trailing her hand around Holland Valley before pointing at a big piece of land with what looked like an airstrip.

That was pretty far from here.

"I'll stay, if they start getting too rowdy I'll…" He trailed off, not really wanting to say what he knew was ultimately unavoidable. Blair nodded, reaching over to pat his hand firmly.

"Mary May and Jerome are important to this community, if you think they're in trouble for even a second you rain hell down on those fuckers. We can't lose 'em." The conviction in Blair's words steeled Dean's fraying nerves and he squeezed the hand that had wrapped around his. This felt solid, like something he could actually do compared to the mammoth of a task Dutch wanted to push onto his shoulders. He could keep these people safe, he could help them, he just needed to stay calm and keep his hands steady. He could do that.

He took the map and leaned back, closing the car door and giving the frame a firm pat. Blair started the car again, sharing one last nod with Dean before she turned and rolled back down the road they'd come from. He stayed in that spot and watched her disappear down the road, becoming nothing but a hazy mirage on the horizon. He glanced down at the dog beside him, glad he at least had a little company left. He didn't feel as alone. Not that, that eased any of the dread in his stomach.

He got as close as he was willing to the town, hiding behind a broken down and rusted car and keeping Boomer close to him. He hoped they wouldn't hurt him but considering how freely they gunned down people he didn't have high hopes for how they treated animals. He ran his hand through Boomer's short fur, really more for himself than the pooch. It brought a comfort one could only get from petting a dog. Occasionally he'd hear the peggies get riled up, talking louder and ranting and raving at their captives.

None of them were making any move to harm the captives, that was until the woman Dean assumed was Mary May headbutted a peggie that had been getting in her face. He jumped to a crouched position, panic flying through him as the peggie kicked her square in the chest and knocked her onto the dirt road.

That seemed like trouble.

He cleared his throat and readied his rifle, jumping up and rushing to the back of another building, Boomer hot on his heels. He'd had time to count the peggies littered around, from what he'd spotted there were about ten. Not too bad, not ideal but he could handle it. He didn't have much of a choice. He snuck into one of the buildings, keeping low and avoiding making too much noise. He pushed himself up against one of the walls beside the front window of the house, peeking out and spotting the main ground group.

It would be stupid to hit any of them out in the open, starting a firefight would mostly end in dead captives and a few bullets for him and Boomer too.

He tried to call upon his older brother in his mind, all the war stories and battle tactics he'd gone over a faded memory in his mind. Dean had never had that strategic brain, he always went headfirst into something and hoped for the best. But that was only when his safety was on the line, other people were depending on him here. He glanced down at Boomer, who seemed ready to follow Dean into whatever he set off. It gave him some confidence, oddly. He just hoped Blair and her friends wouldn't take too long to reach them.

Dean gave Boomer another hearty pat, shuffling off and sneaking out of a side door to the side yard. He crouched beside some bushes, waiting for a peggie to come around into the yard and out of view of the rest. If he could pick them off one by one without them catching onto him he'd have a good chance of getting everyone out of here alive. He really hoped he could get everyone out of here alive.

He sucked in a deep breath at the sound of footfalls on gravel, hearing the crunch and breathing of another person alongside the mechanical scraping of a rifle against a belt. The peggie walked past him blissfully unaware, only spotting him when it was too late and Dean had thrown himself out of the bush to wrap his arm around the guy's neck. He pulled him back to the bush, locking his elbow and covering the guy's mouth with his hand. His lean body thrashed around and his hands clawed at Dean arms, his boots dug into the dirt; kicking up grass and jolting his body around even more.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, if he knew any prayers he'd have been muttering one now.

Dean squeezed harder, willing the man to stop moving and eventually he did. His body was heavy and Dean tried to be careful as he laid his head down on the grassy ground. He tugged him further into the bush, making sure he'd be hard to spot. He took the handgun from his belt and the bullets from his rifle, it felt odd looting the guy after knocking him out but he's sure he wouldn't hold it against him. He'd probably have happily looted him if the roles were reversed, that thought made it a little easier.

"Tell your precious Father he can go fuck himself!"

A woman's voice shouted in the distance and peeking around the fence Dean spotted the same woman from before back on her knees, glaring up at the Peggie that had kicked her. He sucked in a deep breath and used the distraction to shuffle across the road, his sight set on the Pastor. He caught said man's eye on his way and tried to motion for him to be quiet, ungracefully nearly knocking the handgun into his teeth as he did. He made it to cover, listened to the building commotion with his blood rushing in his ears and waited for another stray peggie to wander to him.

He did the same dance and song, hiding the body he brought down and making his way inside the church, he took down the peggies in there and snuck back to the fence just behind Jerome.

"You came just in the knick of time friend." Jerome whispered, keeping his eyes forward as Dean watched the nearest peggie walk back to them. His head was turned to watch his buddy having a shouting match with Mary May and as soon as he was close enough Dean pulled him over the fence. The angle didn't allow for the choke out so he rammed his elbow into the guy's temple, throwing him to the side and landing another punch to his cheek for good measure. The Peggie fell with a thud and he didn't wait to check if he was okay, the shouts were getting louder and he could feel himself getting antsy.

He did have time to take the hunting knife from his thigh, using it to cut the zip ties around Jerome's wrist. Jerome shuffled back, crouching beside him and breathing out a sigh of relief as he rubbed his wrists.

"I'm gonna try and get the guy up on that roof, can you help your friend?" Dean didn't bother with polite formalities, at the moment they didn't seem too important. Jerome nodded and Dean gave him the handgun, he didn't know if he'd use it but it was protection nonetheless. He didn't wait for any verbal response from the Pastor, barely catching it as he went to the side and hopped over the fence. Behind the buildings now he spotted a ladder, which he tried to climb quickly and quietly—two things very hard to do with an old rusty ladder.

He spotted the sniper, leering over the edge and scoping out the edge of the buildings. Dean had been lucky he hadn't spotted him when he was sneaking around. Carefully Dean kept to a crouch, moving slowly behind the peggie and making as little noise as he could. As the peggie stepped back and began to turn Dean grabbed his sniper and knocked him over. Just as he did a range of gunshots and shouts resounded down below, Jerome's name tossed around with the title of sinner in the midst of it all. Either they noticed he was gone or he'd been spotted.

Stealth was out, so he guessed it was back to headfirst diving in. That was bound to happen eventually but now a small job was gonna be a big one, especially if any of the peggies got off distress calls for backup which Dean was guessing they would. The peggie in front of him kicked his legs out, trying to knock Dean over but he managed to jump over them. He kicked the guy's gun away and attempted to hit him with the butt of his rifle, the peggie rolled away just in time and jumped back up onto his feet.

Dean deigned to toss his rifle to the side, not wanting the peggie to copy his earlier move and possibly knock him down. The peggie came at him first, throwing a weak left hook that Dean knocked away with his forearm, bringing his left arm and landing a firm punch to the peggies nose. The peggie stumbled back but steadied himself and threw himself at Dean again, this time he ducked down and hooked around Dean's middle. Dean took a few unbalanced steps back, stopping just short of the edge of the roof. He dug his heels in and rammed his elbow down on the back of the peggies neck.

The guy grunted in pain but held on, his grip only loosening on the third blow Dean landed. Dean took the opportunity to grab the guy's shoulders and ram his knee up into his sternum, tossing him off of him. Dean followed up with another punch to the gut and then his left cheek, finally kicking the guy in the stomach and sending him onto his back again. The peggie rolled onto his side and as Dean got closer he flung his arm through the air, the glint of a blade making Dean rear back.

He felt a sting across the bridge of his nose but he ignored it in favour of grabbing the guy's wrist, bringing his forearm down on Dean's now bent knee. The knife clattered to the ground and Dean punched the guy again, really beginning to feel that familiar ache in his knuckles and exertion in his lungs.

To his good fortune the peggie finally stopped moving and fell flat against the roof, chest very barely moving and wheezing breaths escaping his open, bloody mouth. Dean pushed himself back onto his feet, stumbled to the edge and looked over the chaos unfurling on the ground. Mary May was now free as well as any other captives that the peggies had been holding, which had unavoidably started an intense firefight.

He pushed himself back, racing back to the ladder and sliding down it. He landed less than gracefully and stumbled as he caught his footing. He began to run between two buildings, almost making it to the end before a peggie ran in from the way he was headed. He was facing behind him, looking at whoever had made him run in the first place and Dean took that opportunity to surprise him.

As they ran into each other Dean did his usual trick of grabbing his gun. He tossed him into the side of one of the buildings, ramming his shoulder into his chest as he tried to pry the gun from his hands. The peggie recovered from the shock quicker than Dean appreciated, launching the gun upward and the sting of the metal hitting his forehead came quickly, followed soon after by an ache and a surprised grunt.

Dean stumbled back, arms flailing as he tried to find purchase on the peggie with dots blurring his vision. Another hard blow knocked into his gut and he felt his ass make contact with the concrete and then his elbows. Pain bloomed through his arms in both directions and he rolled to his side to alleviate some of the pain, groaning as he tried to focus his bleary eyes. He caught the shine of something and looking up he was met with the barrel of the gun pointed at him. Well shit.

Everything moved slowly, he lifted his hand—To what? Block a bullet? God he was an idiot. A shot went off and Dean tensed, but no pain came. No skin was torn and the only blood coming out of him was leaking from his nose and lips. The peggie in front of him however dropped to the ground in a heap, gun clattering and skull loudly cracking against the ground. Dean caught the blurry figure of Jerome rushing forward, picking him off the ground and asking if he was alright as he leaned against him.

He nodded, coughing when he attempted to speak. Jerome didn't push him further as more gunshots rebounded through the air, he tucked him against the wall and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before seemingly going back into the fight. Dean took a second to collect himself and shake the ringing from his ears. That ringing turned into whirring and Dean furrowed his brows, covering his ears in confusion before the force of something large going overhead far too close nearly knocked him over. His head shot up and he caught sight of the tail of a white plane.

Oh great, they had air support.

Dean nearly fell over as another plane shot past, bright yellow this time. That couldn't be a peggie plane as well, surely. He ducked down to grab the peggies gun, only half deterred by his locked grip and fish eyed stare. He raced back into the main street, looking up and watching as the yellow plane let loose a rain of bullets onto the peggie plane. He felt like cheering, he was relieved he wouldn't have to deal with that. He wouldn't have had a clue on how to take out a plane from the ground.

A bullet whizzed past his head and he remembered he was in an active fight, he dropped to a crouch and spun on his heels. The peggie that had shot at him began to move back behind their cover but he let off a shot and clipped their shoulder before they managed to hide. As they bent over in pain a flicker of a thought passed him by, he could have easily landed a head shot in that moment.

The thought made him feel ill, the fact he'd even thought about it made him feel even worse and he turned and ran to take his own cover instead. He spotted Blair, Boomer at her side as she hit a peggie over the head with a metal pipe. The act was raw and angry, a big contrast to her soft appearance, if he hadn't seen her do a similar thing with a shovel earlier it would have been much more jarring. The planes flew back overhead, causing another gust of strong wind.

The cacophony of sounds was almost peaceful for a moment, everything merging together in a loud hum in Dean's head. And then it was messy and grating again, too many bullets and voices—Even his own breathing was too much. Bullets ricocheted off of his cover and he tried to duck down lower and slow his breathing, his self soothing was interrupted by a quiet bark. Boomer stood in front of him with the bloody pipe Blair had been holding now in his mouth, tail wagging behind him.

He took it and nudged his forehead against his furry one, the comfort from the dog enough to get him back on track in his head. They were doing this, they were pushing back the peggies and had a guy in the sky to top it off. They could do this.

#another bites the dust lets gooooo #far cry 5 oc #jacob seed x oc #Dean Tag #Far Cry Tag #SMFYaM Tag #Multichapter Tag #finally utilising more of my OCs hello Blair beloved Blair we're all happy to see you <333

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