Fic: Bumfuck, Nowhere. RPS+SPN. Jensen/Jared, Dean/Sam. NC-17 1/5
Title: Bumfuck, Nowhere
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 41.464 words
Summary: "This was usually how it started. He was in a room, not always the same but they were all tacky, tasteless motel rooms where the sheets smelled like old cigarettes and the beds sagged in the middle. He knew that when he opened his eyes he would see another bed, sheets rumpled. There was a man in the room, someone who spoke to him with a familiarity Jensen didn’t even have with his mother. The man was tall and muscular, and his name was Sam. And Jensen’s own name was Dean."
Warnings: Nightmares featuring horror, sexual violence, torture and repeated main character death. (But with a happy ending!) Spoilers for SPN 15.20.
Author's note: Well, here it is, my (almost) annual New Year's Eve fic. One night I was thinking about that saying that there are only two stories, "A stranger comes to town" and "A man goes on a journey", and consequently wrote the first few paragraphs of this. Then I got stuck as I didn't know where to take it until the Supernatural angle suddenly occurred to me. So this is "A stranger rides into town on a black stead - well, in a black classic car which is pretty much the same thing - and promptly collapses." Not the most heroic beginnings but then again the main character never set out to be a hero. Or even a main character really. Certainly not in the horror story he keeps getting put in.
Beta'd as always by the wonderful candygramme. Also available on AO3.
The car came to a stop in a cloud of dust that twirled for a moment in the low evening sun before settling quietly over the black hood like a soft, sandy blanket.
Jensen turned off the engine. His shoulders sagged and for a moment he just sat, caught up in his exhaustion. Then he took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out of the car, hands tight on the sturdy frame. The silence that greeted him felt comforting, after hours upon hours of the rumbling engine vibrating his skull. He looked around with a slight frown, unconsciously tapping the hot roof with his fingers. Tap-tap-taptap. Tap-tap-taptap. Hmm. This couldn’t be right.
He’d been to his share of small towns, or rather driven through them. Sometimes stopping for gas or crashed down on a bed in an empty motel room before driving on so early the next morning no one was even awake to see him go.
This was not small. This was a grain of sand on the map, a speck that you’d never even notice unless you deliberately planned to go there.
He counted ten buildings lined up on each side of the street (Singular! Like in some damn western.) and that was all. Under a vast sky with open space in every direction, land as flat as it could be. He stood there, as small and insignificant as that grain of sand on the map, like a speck of dust on an abandoned Earth. It was…
The world turned on its axis.
He dove back inside the car, dropping flat on his back across the front bench seat, feet still on the ground, kicking gravel. The setting sun attacked him through the open door on the driver’s side, turning everything into a bright, burning inferno and he squeezed his eyes shut. Sucking in dust with every panicked breath, fingers clawing at his chest as if he could rip it open and let air in that way. He felt himself being pulled down, stomach dropping through his spine and sinking into the vinyl as the now familiar vortex drew him in. For the first time he contemplated letting go, just letting himself disappear into-
“Hey, man, you alright?” A warm hand landed on his knee, squeezing it gently.
Jensen’s eyes sprang open. A large form filled his vision, black and burning around the edges, casting a dark shadow over him. Survival instinct broke through his terror, making him scramble further into the car, feet uselessly kicking air.
“Hey, hey! It’s alright.” The form grew even larger, turning into a man rising up and backing away from where he’d been squatting by the open door, the setting sun burning behind him like a halo. A slow breeze made the mop of hair flicker like flames.
The pendulum swung out of the darkness and back into reality.
Jensen swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut again for a moment before sitting up, rubbing one hand over his face. The low rasping of soft stubble catching on his calluses told him he hadn’t shaved in too many days, hadn’t showered in almost as long. He couldn’t even remember if he’d changed his clothes since he headed off, however long ago that was. “Shit.”
He scooted back out of the car, coming to a shaky stand before the man who’d stepped further away to give him some reassuring space. Jensen almost reached out to pull him back in. Somehow, a human being close enough to touch made the blackening sky seem less imposing, the land not as vast. He was evidence that Jensen wasn’t alone in this whole damned world.
He felt suddenly embarrassed. It tugged at his temper, like it was prone to when he felt out of his element. Which, these days, seemed more of a permanent state. “’M fine,” he said brusquely. “Just tired. Been driving.”
The man laughed, sounding relieved. “I hear ya. You stopping for caffeine? Come on, I’ll walk you over.”
“No, I…”
But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t form the words.
“Sure. That sounds good,” he said instead and locked the car before following the tall form still shadowed by the sunset, leading them across the single street to a small (Everything was so small.) building that claimed it had the best coffee in town. With a cheeky winking emoji painted in garish yellow, acknowledging the absurdity of that statement.
They stepped inside, the tall stranger automatically ducking his head as he went through the door even if he would have made it unscathed, if only just. The setting sun had rendered Jensen more or less blind, the contrasting gloom inside stole what little sight he had left as his eyes fought to adjust.
“Got you a customer!” his companion called out, voice so loud Jensen winced. “Sorry,” the man amended. “She can’t hear that well.”
“Can hear you plenty, kiddo,” a scratchy voice muttered. There was the sound of a chair screeching across the floor before a wrinkly head, haloed by white cotton, rose from behind the counter. “Who’s that?”
“Customer.” The man sounded effortlessly cheerful, like that was his natural state. Jensen wondered what that felt like. Must be nice. “Stopped for a coffee. And something to eat might be a good idea. Right?”
It took Jensen a second to realize the question was aimed at him. He turned his head, getting a proper look at the man for the first time since he’d taken Jensen under his wing. He was older than he’d sounded, somewhere around Jensen’s own age, he guessed. Maybe slightly younger. The flaming hair had darkened to a brown mop, though still just as unruly, the eyes were catlike and smiling, color too indistinct in the gloomy light to be determined. The man’s mouth was wide, stretched into a soft grin. He looked kind. He looked concerned. He seemed oddly familiar. He also seemed unlikely to take no for an answer.
“Yeah,” Jensen heard himself answering and realized he was hungry. Odd. “That would be good.”
The man smiled even wider, snatching them a couple of menus from the counter before striding to a table in the corner with a familiarity that marked it as his regular. Jensen followed, sliding into the booth across from the stranger, banging his ankles against the table leg and his knees into the stranger’s long legs that folded like a flamingo’s underneath the table.
Soon as Jensen sat down the familiar fatigue ascended upon him, like lead in his blood and bones dragging him down. He lost focus, everything going slightly blurry as he stared sightlessly ahead, absentmindedly wondering if he needed to lay his head down on the table. His companion said something Jensen couldn’t hear. The world was there but not really. He was still present, he guessed, but if someone told him he was dead, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
Coffee suddenly appeared in front of him, the aroma stirring him awake enough that he managed to wrap his hand around the warm mug, inhaling deeply before taking a careful sip.
It was good. Not the best he’d had, but so far above the roadside coffee he’d been forced to drink these last few days, he felt close to tears. He could feel the man watching him as he slowly emptied the mug, one heavenly sip at a time. The man must have waved the woman over because when Jensen drained the last drop, she was already there, waiting to fill him up.
“Thank you,” he said, feeling pathetically grateful. She smiled, her pruned faced rippling as the wrinkles settled into a look of happiness. He blinked slowly, gazing at her, at the lines formed by a lifetime of love, grief, and heartbreak. God, she must be at least a hundred. She shouldn’t still be here. Just like he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t…
Jensen straightened, blinking rapidly. Jesus, he was so exhausted he felt high with it. He needed to sleep. (He didn’t want to sleep.) He needed sleep.
“Take your time,” she said, tapping the menu that still lay untouched on the table. “I ain’t closing for another hour.”
She nodded at the man sitting across from him, who Jensen had for a moment forgotten was there, the glint in her eye conveying some message that his companion seemed to understand because he nodded as well, the lips that had gone slack in thought quirking up on one side in a small grin.
“What was that?” Jensen asked as soon as he deemed her out of earshot. It was rude. He had no right to their private communication, but he didn’t like feeling left out. The room suddenly seemed ominously dim. Maybe this was what they did to strangers who came to this tiny town: gave them poisoned coffee, and then buried them out in the desert. Would explain the town’s lack of expansion in a world plagued by overpopulation. Jensen felt a sting of unease. He still drank the coffee. It was good.
“Hmm?” the man said, looking back at him. His eyes were an odd color, undecided between green and hazel with a glint of grey. “Oh, nothing. She’s just… I’m…” He flushed slightly pink. It was unexpected enough that Jensen almost inhaled his next sip. “You feeling better?” the man asked, changing the subject so blatantly Jensen decided to let whatever was embarrassing him slide. It wasn’t really his business.
“Yeah. Guess I just…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know how to explain, didn’t want to. It was private and he didn’t know this man from Adam. “Tired, you know.”
“Yeah, you said.” The man tilted his head, as if waiting for him to continue.
“The sun, I guess. Felt dizzy,” Jensen lied. “Not enough sleep. Been driving… Long way. New York.” The man whistled, seeming impressed, by the distance Jensen guess, not his eloquence. “This helps,” Jensen added, lifting the coffee mug before taking another sip. It really was good. Poisoned or not, it was worth it. (He didn’t really think they were serial killers. Not even his luck was that bad. Not in this world.)
“Looks like it. I mean, you look better. Not as pale.”
The man smiled. It lit up his whole face. He had a big nose, with a big mole right next to it like an old-fashioned beauty mark. Everything about him was big. His hands had long bony fingers, his feet kept bumping into Jensen’s, like he couldn’t find enough space underneath the table for the both of them. Even his head looked big with that unruly mop of hair expanding his silhouette.
“I’m Jared, by the way.” The man, Jared, reached over the table. His hand was even bigger than it had seemed wrapped around his coffee mug. Jensen’s own hand got engulfed in Jared’s tight grip. “Padalecki. It’s a mouthful, I know.” Jared grinned.
‘Bet you are,’ Jensen’s brain submitted unhelpfully. His cheeks reddened. “Jensen. Ackles.”
Jared went eerily still. “Ackles,” he echoed, slowly pulling his hand back. He stared at Jensen for what seemed a very long minute and then smiled again, eyes guarded. As if he’d just realized he wasn’t just helping out a stranger but making a lasting acquaintance. “So, I guess this is your place.”
Jensen blinked. He looked around. “This?” he asked. It was smaller than he’d imagined, which was saying something because everything in this town was so small. Everything except Jared. He must feel like a giant, living here. If he did live here.
“You think there’d be more than one diner in this town?” Jared asked. Mocked. Suddenly he didn’t seem so friendly.
“I wasn’t sure I was in the right town,” Jensen admitted. “There was no sign.”
“Huh,” Jared said then turned his head and yelled, “Daisy!”
Jensen caught his breath. “Wait!” He wasn’t ready. He didn’t even know…
She walked over, fingers fumbling with the hearing aid hooked behind her ear. “Always with the yelling. What? You boys ready to order?”
“Guess who this is,” Jared said loudly, sliding out of the booth. “Mr. Jensen Ackles.”
She froze. The friendly grin slid off her face. “Already?” she said, her voice sounding so faint that Jensen stood up as well, reaching out to catch her if she should fall. She flinched, stepping back. “Of course,” she sighed and then she turned on her heel and hurried back into the kitchen.
Jensen stood still, not sure what to do. He looked at Jared who had gone pink in the face, dipping his head as if ashamed of the brutal way he’d handled their introduction.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Jensen said slowly, “but I’m not here to fuck anyone over.”
Jared looked up. His mouth was set in a thin line. “This place is all she has.”
“It’s not really hers.” Jensen sighed inwardly when Jared’s face went tight. “I just mean… It was left to me. I never asked…” He took a deep breath. “I’m just here to take a look, that’s all.”
Not like he’d move here, take up what little space this town had to offer. If any. He knew he didn’t belong. He knew that. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.
The heaviness suddenly rushed back in, descending upon him like a dark waterfall. He grabbed hold of the table, sliding back into the booth before he folded onto the floor, like a distressed damsel in a bad romance novel. Jared hesitated then followed his example, sitting down across from him, a look of reluctant concern on his face.
“You alright? You don’t look so hot.”
“Thanks,” Jensen replied automatically, feeling a small sting of satisfaction when Jared winced. “I’m fine. Just…”
“Tired. Yeah, you keep saying that.” Jared tilted his head. “I’ve seen tired. Man, I’ve been tired. This looks different.” Jared slid back out of his seat. “I’m gonna rustle you up something to eat. Don’t think Daisy’s in the mood.”
“You don’t have to…” Jensen’s voice trailed off as his head landed in the cradle of his elbow, eyes squeezed shut. “Shit.”
“You gonna pass out?” Hands nudged surprisingly gently at his shoulder, pushing him further in on the bench.
“No... I don’t know.” He tried to raise his head, but the darkness was thick as molasses, gluing him in place. God, please, he didn’t want to fall asleep! He let out a mortifying whimper, his hand shooting out for something to hold on to, finding big bony fingers, squeezing his own with comforting strength.
“It’s alright. You’re alright. Just breathe. Breathe. Mr. Ackles? Hey! Jensen, you with me?”
He breathed, concentrating on the voice that earlier had sounded so cold but now was soft and warm with concern, like Jared just couldn’t help it. Like he was just too nice a person to be mad at someone so pathetic.
“I’m here,” Jensen finally managed to croak out. Everything was still black around the edges, familiar shadows lurking at the edges of his visions. Always ready to swarm in to drown him. It was the kind of blackness that swallowed light, that thrived on its absence, on his weak attempts to fight back. “Just… give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.”
The hand he was holding shifted and he clamped down in panic, but Jared only adjusted his grip, the heat of his palm, his fingers, like rays of sunshine seeping warmth into Jensen’s cold skin. He heard some mumbling, low voices trying to stay unobtrusive, and then there was silence. After a while the smell of bacon drifted over, salty and comforting. He breathed. He breathed. He breathed.
After a long time he finally lifted his head, blinking blurrily in the darkened room. The sun had gone down and apart from a sliver of light, shining through the crack of a door behind the counter, leading presumably to the kitchen, and the soft flicker of candles on the tables, the place was blessedly dark. A solid presence warmed one side and Jensen realized Jared must have moved over in order to more comfortably hold his hand.
Jensen straightened his cramped fingers and slid his hand out of Jared’s warm grip. “Thank you.” He looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry for… I apologize.”
“Don’t.” Jared’s voice was low as a whisper. He didn’t move away.
The bench should have felt too cramped for two larger than average men, but Jensen felt more grounded than he had in a long time, with the heat of Jared’s muscular thigh and shoulder pressing into his own. It was a strange feeling, almost foreign. Unearned.
Jensen leaned back. Only then did he feel the weight of Jared’s free arm on his shoulders, the heat of it warming his neck. It was a welcome change from the sweat-soaked bone chill he usually woke up to.
“I just have this…” He stopped. Closed his eyes and relished in the feeling of another person’s proximity. He usually appreciated his own space, wasn’t much for close contact in his day-to-day life, but Jared’s warmth felt reassuring, calming, safe. “Thing. It’s hard to explain.”
“You don’t have to.” Jared shifted, as if to move away, and Jensen tensed in disappointment. Jared stilled, then settled back down, large hand closing over Jensen’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “We can just sit here and not talk.”
“Now, that’d be new challenge for you, kid,” Daisy’s hoarse voice said as plates loaded with eggs, sausages and bacon landed before them.
Jensen started to pull away in mortification, suddenly realizing what it must look like, what they must look like, knowing he wasn’t in any shape to deal with it, not now, but Jared’s fingers curled around his shoulder, reassuring, and Jensen responded without meaning to, settling back into Jared’s side, slotted there like a puzzle piece, comforted, calmed.
“Now, why you need to embarrass me like that?” Jared said to the old woman, lower lip slipping down into a pout. It made him look like a boy, and Jensen suddenly questioned his earlier assessment regarding Jared’s age. There was something playful about him, not childish but boy like. Innocent. Jensen couldn’t even imagine what that felt like. “My sweet Daisy.”
She swatted at his head with her towel, the scowl barely hiding her smile. “Stop flirting and eat your food.”
“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, ma’am,” Jensen said, looking at the mountain of food before him. His mouth watered despite his stomach’s usual protest.
“Is what I do. For now.” She gave him a calculating look. “Guess it’s on the house. The house being yours and all.”
“No, I’m paying,” he said quickly, then realized he’d left his wallet and phone in the car. Jesus, he really was a mess. “I’ll pay. Just give me a minute and I-”
He tried to nudge Jared out of the way but the man didn’t move an inch, just gave him a look, all play gone from his gaze, fingers digging into Jensen’s shoulder, keeping him still. He subtly shook his head. Jensen sighed and settled back down.
Daisy snorted. “Relax and eat your food, Mr. Ackles.”
He winced. “Jensen. Please.”
She looked unconvinced, like accepting his name would mean she accepted him and what it meant, him being here.
“Please,” he repeated. “I don’t…” He trailed off. How could he explain over thirty years of fearing the name he was forced to carry? Why would she even care?
“Alright,” she said after a moment, her voice softer, like she’d seen something in his eyes he hadn’t meant to disclose. “Jensen. Eat your food.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He looked at the steaming heap of food before him. His stomach sent a warning cramp. He ignored it. He needed to eat. And this looked better than anything he’d had in too long to remember.
Jared squeezed his shoulder before letting go, fingers trailing down Jensen’s side then along his waist as he pulled free to pick up his utensils. Jensen’s neck felt cold, his whole body wobbly without the weight of Jared’s arm holding him steady. He picked up his knife and fork, unwrapping them from their napkin swaddle. Relaxed when Jared shifted and moved his thigh closer, pushing it warm and firm against Jensen’s own.
They ate in silence, only disturbed by Daisy tottering by to fill up their coffee mugs. Jensen had already had too much, his nerves were firing off like exposed wires, but the coffee sliding down his throat warmed his chest in a way food never managed. He ate half a sausage, a few bites of bacon, shoveled a couple of forks of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Then stopped, closing his eyes as he breathed slowly through his nose.
“You don’t need to finish,” Jared said quietly. “It’s okay.”
Jensen opened his eyes to find Daisy watching him hawklike from behind the counter. He picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of bacon but halfway to his mouth he had to put it down again.
“Just haven’t been eating much,” he murmured, afraid she was listening, despite Jared claiming she was hard of hearing. Maybe she could read lips. Maybe she had bugged the table. Maybe he was really losing his mind. “Lost the habit, I guess.”
Jared looked at him and Jensen realized how weird he must sound. Then Jared grinned and said, “Explains why your ass is so skinny,” and the heavy stone on Jensen’s chest lifted, just a little.
“You’re… skinny,” he retorted, not caring that he sounded juvenile. Jared’s grin grew even wider. Jensen couldn’t help smiling back, ducking his head as he felt his face grow hot. Were they flirting? Or was this just how people talked? He wouldn’t know. He’d fallen out of that habit as well.
He leaned back, allowing himself to relax against Jared’s side, watching him eat with a gusto that made Jensen feel strangely happy. Everything about Jared seemed larger than life, his size, his smile, his appetite. His kindness which Jensen had done nothing to earn, quite the opposite, but been given none the same, as if offering a stranger comfort came as natural to Jared as breathing.
“You live in town?” Jensen asked after a while, when there was only a little food left on Jared’s plate. He caught Jared eyeing the food Jensen himself had abandoned and without thinking he pushed it over. Jared pulled the plate close, grinning, if a little bashful, and tucked in.
“Sure,” he said after he’d swallowed. “Work here, too.” He tilted his head in a direction along the street. “Got a practice over in Parker’s House, an apartment upstairs. Blue one, can’t miss it,” he elaborated when Jensen just blinked at him.
Jensen raised his eyebrows. Jared was wearing ripped jeans and a plaid shirt that had seen better days, or rather decades. Not to stereotype but… “Practice? What, law? Doctor?”
“Vet.” Jared grinned. “I know, you were being nice, not mentioning the smell.”
Jensen hadn’t really noticed. He just thought Jared smelled like everything else in this place, like fresh air and grass and dust. A hint of dog. Good. But then again his sense of smell wasn’t exactly stellar these days, with his nostrils stuffed with the stink of blood and smoke and sulfur…
Don’t.
Stop.
Think about something else.
“Honestly, I figured that was Daisy,” he said, jumping when she suddenly stood up, eyes narrowing. He could feel Jared laughing, his body shaking slightly though there was no sound. “Shit.”
“She really can’t hear you. I think.” Jared shot Daisy a smile and yelled, “Excellent, like always, Daisy!”
“Don’t yell! I ain’t deaf!” she shot back, reaching up to adjust her hearing aid with a small frown.
“She keeps forgetting to turn them on. Or change the batteries. Honestly, I’m not even sure they do much when they’re working.”
“How old is she?” Jensen asked, keeping his voice low.
Jared tilted his head in thought. “You know, I’ve never had the balls to ask her. But you go right ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Jensen lifted his hands, palms out. “Nuhuh. I value my balls, thank you very much.”
Jared chuckled. “She already looked to be a hundred when I moved here. And that was two years ago.”
“Shouldn’t she retire?” Jensen realized his blunder when Jared’s smile fell. He quickly added, “I’m not firing anyone. Certainly not a hundred-and-two-year-old woman that scares the crap out of me.”
Jared drew in a breath and sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry I was such a jerk. It’s just been…” The smile was quick, uneasy. “We don’t really like change.”
“Never said I meant to change anything,” Jensen said, although some things would have to if he was keeping this place. Like adding some nicer lighting in here. And air-conditioning. And hire some extra hands-
Shit, what the hell was he doing? He couldn’t stay here. “I just came to take a look.”
“And then what?” Jared’s mouth twitched, as if he was fighting to be civil. “It belongs to you now. This place and all the rest. Well, half of it. You can’t just ignore it.”
“Wait, what?” Jensen frowned at him. “What rest? Uncle Jack left me his property, meaning this diner and the land it’s on, I guess.”
Jared raised his eyebrows, as if Jensen was being deliberately obtuse. “His property. Which includes everything on this side of the street. Every house, every lot, every… I don’t know, sidewalk, lamppost, whatever. It’s all yours now.”
Jensen stared at him. His chest felt increasingly tight. “That can’t be… No. I’m not…. No.”
“Jack Ackles bought this place about two years ago. Then took over Morgan’s mortgage, next door, forcing them out. Overbid another house a little further down then...” Jared huffed. “You get the picture. Folks didn’t even realize what was going on until suddenly he owned every damn building on this side of the street. He’d started bidding on a property on the other side when… Well, he up and died. So, when we found out some city boy, no offence, had inherited the whole lot… Frankly, we’ve been waiting for the eviction notices to start flowing in.”
Jensen gaped. “Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder y’all hate me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jared looked unsure for the first time since they met. Which felt like days but bizarrely enough was less than an hour ago. “You really didn’t know? How the hell could you not know?”
“I didn’t read all the paperwork?” Jensen put his head in his hands. God, he was too tired for this shit. What the hell had he gotten himself into? “I can’t really… I get tired.” He didn’t know how to explain bright paper attacking his eyes, the letters swimming on the white surface like drowning ants, words losing their meaning before he could connect them. “I just remembered him talking about this place. I thought… I thought that’s all there was. I didn’t know… Oh Jesus.”
Jared’s heavy arm slid back over his shoulders. “Maybe you should lie down.”
“I’m fine…” Jensen started when another wave of vertigo hit, spinning the universe on its axis, throwing nausea up into his throat. Fuck. If he puked Daisy’s food, she would probably hack him to bits with a meat ax. “Yeah, okay. Might need a hand to my car,” he admitted as Jared helped him stand up.
“You’re not sleeping in your car.” He could practically hear Jared rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? You practically own this town. Well, half of it. You can have like your pick of houses to live in.”
“I’m not throwing someone out of their home!” Jensen protested. “What the hell you take me for?”
“Good to know. But I meant empty houses. Weren’t all that wanted to stay after they’d sold, guess they figured they’d rather spend their money elsewhere than on rent. This place is practically a ghost town now. You inherited a ghost town.”
“You’re still here. And… Daisy,” Jensen said lamely. Although he wouldn’t be surprised if she was already dead, just moving around out of pure stubbornness.
“Ain’t got nowhere else to go,” Jared muttered. “What’s your favorite color?”
Jensen blinked. What? “Uh, blue?”
Jared huffed. “You’re not getting my house! Plus, it’s on the other side of the street. Not one of yours. Choose another.”
Jensen’s muddled brain couldn’t remember a single color of the rainbow, ironically enough. “Don’t care. Any room with a bed. And curtains. Please.”
Jared’s arm tightened around his shoulder as he steered him out through the door. “We’re not gonna go peeping through your windows, man.”
“No, but the sun will, tomorrow morning. Wait, my bag! In the car.”
Jared turned and steered him across the street, arm tight around Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen went along with it, wasn’t much else he could do. He was fading fast, much faster than yesterday. There was no denying it anymore, he was getting worse.
Jared stood by as Jensen retrieved his phone and wallet from the glove compartment, his movements slow and sluggish. Then he went around to open the trunk to get his bag, containing a change of clothes and toiletries.
“How did you manage to drive all the way here if you can’t stand the sun?” Jared suddenly asked. “Ooh, you’re not a vampire, right?”
“Funny.” Jensen hoisted the bag up on his shoulder and almost tipped over, saved only by Jared grabbing his arm. This was really getting humiliating. “I wear sunglasses,” he spat out, not mentioning the stabbing headaches or the dry eyeballs making his eyes burn.
“Okay. I was just curious.”
Jared relieved Jensen of the bag before he could form a protest, then put his arm nonchalantly around Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him firmly to his side, like they were a sweet couple going for an intimate stroll. Jensen stiffened before giving up with a silent long exhale. What did it matter anyway?
“This all you’ve got?”
“Like I said, only meant to take a look,” Jensen said. Mumbled. Forming words was getting increasingly difficult. “Wasn’t planning on staying.”
“Still, New York. Long drive back and forth.”
Jared steered him across the street again towards a two-storied house, pink with white windowpanes and a pale green door. Jensen thought of objecting out of principle, but really, he was so damn tired he’d happily accept Barbie’s Dream House as long as it had a bed that fit him.
“You know, with my job, I do laundry pretty much every day. You’re free to throw in some of your things, if you need to.”
“Thanks. I’m good.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t taken the bag out of the trunk at all since he left four - or was it five? - days ago. God, his socks were going to smell something awful when he took his shoes off. He decidedly didn’t think of the state of his underwear. Or his teeth. His mouth tasted sour with coffee and halitosis.
He wasn’t usually this… pathetic. It had been a bad week. Well, month really. Life. Honestly, these days, if he managed to get out of bed and not tumble right back in after his morning piss, he considered it a success. If he ate food, or had anything other than coffee, it was practically Christmas. Showers and clean clothes were so low on his list of desired accomplishments he hardly ever thought about them. He was just grateful Jared didn’t complain about the undoubtfully bad smell that had to be wafting from beneath his armpits. Thank God he’d stopped smoking. Not for health or even economic reasons, but because he almost set his apartment on fire, falling asleep with a cigarette burning between his fingers. Twice. He was surprised by how little he missed it. But then again, he didn’t really feel much about anything anymore.
“It shouldn’t be too dusty,” Jared said as he fetched the keys from underneath the welcome mat and unlocked the front door. “Maggie - she’s the one whose been handling your properties, collecting rent and such - has been keeping everything nice and clean. You should probably thank her at some point.”
Jensen grunted then flinched as Jared turned on the light in the hallway. Damn, that was bright! Like someone was attacking his brain with a thousand needles.
“Oops, sorry. Esther, the old woman who used to live here, always lit up the whole street with her million-watt bulbs. You’re probably gonna want to change them.”
Jensen gritted his teeth. “Can we just… Bedroom?”
“Oh yeah. Of course. Come on.” Jared grabbed Jensen’s waist, hauling him to his feet as his knees started to give in. “Just as well you’re not heavy. You know, if you want, I could probably carry you up the stairs.”
Jensen bristled. Goddammit, he was not a child! “You’re not carrying me up the damn stairs!”
He started the painstakingly slow journey to the upper floor, one heavy foot after another, Jared keeping a tight grip around his waist. By the time they reached the upper landing he was breathing heavily and felt a little faint. Fuck.
“Where to?” he grunted but Jared was already steering him towards a door on the right, pushing it open with the hand carrying the bag before turning on the lights. Again the brightness assaulted Jensen’s eyes but Jared quickly lowered him on the bed, turned on the reading lamp that was only a little dimmer, and killed the overhead lights.
“Better?”
Jensen nodded, arm slung over his eyes as he leaned back on the pillows. “Thanks. I can take it from here,” he added testily when he heard nothing indicating Jared was leaving.
“Uh. Yeah, sure. Uhm, bathroom’s across the hall. This room is on the west side so the morning sun shouldn’t bother you too much. You want me to unpack your bag? Grab your washing? It’s no trouble, really.”
“Just leave it. I’ll get to it tomorrow,” he said, resolutely not lifting his arm.
“Okay.” He could hear Jared shift, as if unsure. “Yeah. Uhm, good night. Guess I’ll see you around. Hard not to, town this small,” he added with an awkward laugh.
“Yeah.” Jensen had spent the last few years making sure to keep everyone at a distance. And now he was here, in this tiny, tiny place, responsible for people he could not get away from. “Night.”
He listened to Jared’s steps down the stairs, surprisingly light for a man that size, the clink of keys being dropped on the small table in the entry, and the softer click of the door closing behind him. Jensen exhaled. He should go downstairs and lock the door. He should undress and go brush his teeth. He should… He closed his eyes.
“Dean, wake up. We gotta get going.”
He kept his eyes stubbornly shut, but it was no use. An arm shook him, urging him to get his lazy ass out of bed. It was time, the fight was waiting. And there was no getting out of it.
This was usually how it started. He was in a room, not always the same but they were all tacky, tasteless motel rooms where the sheets smelled like old cigarettes and the beds sagged in the middle. He knew that when he opened his eyes he would see another bed, sheets rumpled. There was a man in the room, someone who spoke to him with a familiarity Jensen didn’t even have with his mother. The man was tall and muscular, and his name was Sam. And Jensen’s own name was Dean. He knew that was his name because Sam kept repeating it. “Dean, we have to…” and “Dean, why are you…”. He knew Sam’s name because Dean screamed it when-
He never saw Sam’s face, it was always blurry.
In every dream they were in a hurry, because apparently they had to save people. A lot. He didn’t understand it but that seemed to be their job. Which in this world meant fighting horrible monsters. Every night. And then, every night, they died.
Sometimes Sam died first, and the pain Dean felt watching him fall was like his tether to life itself had been severed. When it came time for his own death, he usually welcomed it. Not because he thought he’d be reunited with Sam. That was very clear. They were both being sent to Hell (Why? Jensen couldn’t understand. Weren’t they heroes?) but Dean knew he was headed for the common pit while Sam, for some reason, had his own place reserved in Lucifer’s cage.
That was the worst part of it. Not dying, not the pain and torture awaiting them, for an eternity, but the fact that they were ripped apart, never to see each other again. Because, and this Jensen felt with every bone, every muscle, every blood vessel in Dean’s body, they loved each other so much that nothing else in the whole wide world really mattered to them. Not killing the monsters, not saving the world, nothing. Everything Dean did was for Sam, and Jensen was sure that everything Sam did was for Dean. Even dying. Especially dying. This was the end of the road and the last chance they had to save the other. But every single night he died with Sam screaming his name, or watched Sam die while screaming Sam’s name, and every single night he knew they were losing each other. Forever.
This night would be no different, except something about Sam’s retreating back felt familiar. Something…
Sam called out for him to hurry and Jensen rose out of bed, feeling just as weary as when he lay down, in another bed, in another house, in another reality. He was already dressed, he even had his boots on. Seemed Dean had just been taking a nap, gathering strength for the battle. Too bad Jensen had no strength left and he didn’t really know how to fight anyway.
The first few times he tried to tell Sam that he wasn’t Dean, that he had no idea how he got there, that he didn’t want to fight because he had no clue how. That he didn’t want to die. But Dean never said those things. Dean said, “Yeah, okay.” And “Wait up, Sammy.” And “You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that?” no matter what words Jensen formed in his mouth. And then Dean followed Sam out into the night, with a gun in his hand and such love in his heart that he was ready to take on the whole world to prove it.
This time was no different. Dean put on his jacket, gathered his gun, and grabbed car keys off the set of drawers. Outside waited their car, his car, their home if what he felt whenever he slid behind the wheel was to rely on.
The car was this reality’s only connection to Jensen’s real life. It was the same model, even the same make as his own. Just like Jensen’s own beloved classic, this one was a beauty, a beast of a vehicle, rumbling to life as he turned the ignition. And then they drove… somewhere. It was always different. Sometimes a dirt road, sometimes a graveyard, sometimes an old barn. It didn’t matter, the end was always the same.
This time it was a cabin up a mountain side. They had to hike the last part of the way and while Dean was cursing and sweating, Jensen felt the uselessness of the whole thing. Why go through all this extra work for the same damn outcome? He should just stop, sit down, and ask Sam to join him in waiting for death to come to them. But Dean soldiered on along the overgrown track, only so he could watch Sam die in that damn cabin while his heart broke in too many pieces to ever be put together again. And then he also died. Jensen didn’t even see how, this time, there was just excruciating pain, then blackness. Then hell fire where he screamed and cried and begged-
And then he was back in his bed. The sun was filtering through the edges of the curtain of the otherwise dark room. Jensen lay still, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. His whole body ached. He could hear people talking some way away, maybe in the next house over or possibly in the middle of the street. He couldn’t imagine they got much traffic running through town, miles away from the highway. Only people who came here were people with business to attend, whether that be personal or other, or people who got lost. Jensen gathered he was both.
He was still wondering if there was any point in getting up when he heard someone knock on the front door downstairs. It creaked open before he could decide whether to answer or let it be. Guess Jared hadn’t locked behind him when leaving the keys.
“Jensen, you up there?” shouted a familiar voice.
Familiar in more ways than one, Jensen suddenly realized. It echoed the voice of Sam from his dreams, nightmares, whatever he should call his nightly adventures. Actually, a lot of Jared felt familiar now he thought about it. It was strange he hadn’t made the connection before but then again, he’d been too exhausted to think much of anything. Much like now. But with the death of Sam still painfully fresh in his mind, the resemblance was eerie. His voice, his build, the way he moved.
Jensen shook his head. He was being stupid. He must have fallen asleep with Jared still on his mind and then he’d somehow altered Sam to fit. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him no, he hadn’t, Sam was just the way he’d always been. Tall, muscular, beautiful. Dead.
“Hey.” Jared stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as if he was trying to make himself look less imposing. He must have made his way up the stairs while Jensen was having his freakout. “You look like shit,” he said.
Jensen sighed and closed his eyes.
“Sorry,” Jared said, voice moving closer. His steps were strangely soft for a man his size. “It’s just, it’s five o’clock. I was getting worried. Haven’t seen you all day. Daisy said she hadn’t seen you either.” The voice seemed to be right by Jensen’s ear. “You need to eat.”
Jensen didn’t answer. He felt too tired to talk. To move. To get up and eat something, if only to ease Jared’s worries. He could still taste blood and ash in his mouth.
“Wait here,” Jared said.
Jensen heard him move away and a little while later hurry down the stairs. His mind drifted.
He thought about the deer he’d almost hit a couple of days ago, how it has gazed at him, frozen, in the middle of the road, before disappearing into the trees.
He thought about the couple he’d heard fucking in the room next door at the hotel (never motels, not if he could help it) he’d stayed in three, or was it four, nights ago. It was a cheap shithole, and the walls were thin, and the man kept calling the woman a whore and a slut as he slammed into her, hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the walls. She never made a sound, not until later, when he’d left with a slam of the door. Then she laughed and then she cried and then she left a little while later. Jensen hoped she got paid well and proper.
He thought about Sam dying, his blurry face turning bloody as he choked out Dean’s name-
“Here.”
He opened his eyes to find Jared standing by the bed, glass of water in his hand. “I bet you’re dehydrated,” he said, then “Let me help you up,” after putting the glass on the bedstand.
Jensen just blinked at him.
“C’mon.”
Before he knew it, he was sitting up, pillows being pushed in behind his back. He wanted to say he wasn’t sick, but maybe he was. Maybe he was, above all, sick in the head. Lord knows he wasn’t feeling normal in any sense of the word.
The glass was pushed against his lips, and he tipped his head slightly back, drinking it down. He wasn’t really thirsty, but he figured it would appease Jared to see him doing something normal.
“There you go.” Jared put the glass down then gripped Jensen’s chin, gently, and tilted his head up, studying him. “You look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep at all?”
“Don’t sleep much,” Jensen lied. Well, probably lied. Truth was, he had no idea if he was asleep or not when he was in that other place. He sure didn’t get any rest.
“Hm.” Jared frowned. “Seen a doctor?”
“A few.”
They all said the same. He just needed rest. Possibly in a facility strapped to the bed if he kept talking about Sam and Dean and the world ending in death and destruction. Otherwise, he was healthy. The exhaustion, the heightened sensory issues, the lack of appetite, the feelings of unreality… all of it could be blamed on him not getting enough sleep. Apparently. They tried a sleep study but kept having to wake him up because he wouldn’t stop screaming. They gave him sleeping pills but all they did was make the dreams even darker, more violent. And he woke up just as tired. After that Jensen decided they didn’t know their ass from their elbow and stopped answering their calls.
“Well, I’d offer you horse tranquilizers, but I might lose my license,” Jared joked. He still looked worried. Hesitant. Like he was thinking of throwing Jensen in the trunk of his car and driving him to the nearest hospital.
Jensen lifted his hand, heavy and aching, and rubbed at his temple. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“You don’t get to decide what I worry about,” Jared said. “Frankly, I ain’t too happy, knowing you drove all the way here from New York. That’s me worrying, right there, about the fact you might have killed yourself. Or others.”
“I’m not that bad,” Jensen protested. Jared just looked at him. “Alright, I am now but I wasn’t. Not like this. It’s just been building up and…” He stopped. Didn’t add, I think I might be dying. It felt too melodramatic. And probably untrue. Probably.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Month maybe?”
“A month?”
“Something like that.”
He pushed at the covers, wondering when he’d had the thought to undress, to crawl underneath. Wondering if Jared had come back last night and found him passed out, had taken off his shoes, his shirt and jeans, and tucked him in. Wondering why the thought didn’t disturb him, though it did make him feel self-conscious. He wasn’t exactly in the best shape of his life. His latest doctor had used the word gaunt.
Jared backed off, clearing the way out of the room and to the bathroom, but he didn’t move any further, standing vigilant, as if he was waiting for Jensen to collapse. Jensen did stumble at one point but caught himself on the doorframe before Jared could jump to the rescue. Jensen made a point of closing the bathroom door but he left it unlocked. He might still have some pride left but he wasn’t stupid.
The bathroom was blaringly bright and pink, but clean and it held towels (pink), soap (pink), and a generic bottle of shampoo (thankfully not pink). Jensen wondered if it had all been there or if Jared had laid it out for him, same trip he put Jensen to bed. He glanced at the mirror, saw a ghost of who he should be and quickly looked away, turning to the shower instead. He felt grimy, gritty, filthy to the point of disgusting. His knees might be shaking but there was no way he was walking out of this bathroom without taking a shower first.
The water ran lukewarm, heat regulator stuck on body heat. His body craved it warmer, but his mind honestly needed it cooler if it was to drive the fog out of his brain. He left it as it was. The shampoo smelled of lavender, the soap of sandalwood. And again he wondered.
His hair felt too long between his fingers, his stubble almost a beard. It made him feel feral. He wondered if Dean’s hair was long and unruly or if he kept it neat, soldier like. Couldn’t remember. Sam had a mop of hair, that much he’d seen, had felt Dean’s longing to push that hair out of Sam’s eyes, to run his fingers through it, to gather it in his fist as he pulled him close for a kiss.
He never did any of those things. Jensen didn’t know if it was because they never had the time, with the world always on the brink of destruction, or if something else was holding them back. After all, he knew they loved each other, fiercely. To an obsessive degree.
“You alright in there?”
The worried voice, muffled by the barrier of the door, pulled Jensen out of his musings. He turned off the water and pushed the shower curtain aside. “I’m fine,” he said, then repeated, a little louder, “I’m good,” and reached for the towel.
“Alright. Need anything from your bag?”
Jensen looked at himself in the mirror, wiping the steam off when all he saw was clouds. Christ, he looked like a grizzly. Shaving wouldn’t be a bad idea. And then brushing his teeth. “Toiletries. In a black bag.”
“Alright.”
Jensen rubbed himself dry, wrapping the towel around his waist just as Jared knocked on the door and then opened it without waiting for permission. He didn’t step in, just held out Jensen’s toiletry bag, gaze respectfully aimed at the ceiling. When Jensen didn’t immediately take it, still wrestling with fastening his towel, Jared glanced down. He went eerily still. His eyes travelled down Jensen’s chest and further, where they seemed to get stuck, lips parting as he breathed in. Just as quickly he shook himself out of his daze, mouth snapping shut.
“Here,” he said, putting the bag on the counter. His face was pink. “Yell if you need anything else.” Then he closed the door with a loud click.
Jensen looked down. The towel was thin, cheap. Used and wet it didn’t really hide much of anything. His face heated. He grabbed the bag, wiping the steam off the mirror again.
When he stepped out of the bathroom - freshly shaved, minty breath - he almost stumbled over Jared’s long legs where he sat in the hallway, waiting. Jared looked up, paused, blinking at Jensen in surprise, then quickly dropped his gaze and stumbled to his feet, letting him pass. Jensen frowned but didn’t ask what that was about.
Back in the bedroom he pulled clean clothes and underwear out of his otherwise untouched bag. He shot Jared a glance, but he had lingered in the hallway, eyes on his own two feet as if they were the most interesting things he’d seen in days. Jensen hesitated a moment before dropping the towel and quickly pulling on clean underwear, jeans, t-shirt. Shook out a grey plaid shirt, a warm flannel to fight the cold already creeping into his bones.
He felt slightly dizzy as he bent down to put on his boots, but it went away soon as he straightened up. Still, Jared wasn’t wrong about him needing to eat something. “We going to the diner?” he said as he pushed himself to his feet.
Jared finally raised his head and pushed away from the wall. He still wouldn’t quite meet Jensen’s eyes. His cheeks were slightly pink. “Unless you were thinking of making something?” he said. “I could run to the store if you want.”
Jensen chuckled. “Not really that domestic but thank you.”
Jared grinned. “Diner it is.”
They made their way slowly down the stairs, Jared first, glancing over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure Jensen was still on his feet and not tumbling towards him. He smiled when Jensen grabbed the keys from the hallway table.
“What?”
“Just… not many people that lock their doors around here unless they’re going away. And even then someone needs to water the plants, feed the cat, all that.”
Jensen looked at the keys in his hand, then shrugged and locked the door behind them. “Not quite there yet,” he said as he shoved the keys into his pocket. He couldn’t really imagine ever leaving his house or car unlocked, didn’t matter where he was. Trusting strangers wasn’t really in his nature.
Which didn’t explain why he had trusted Jared last night, and still did, to the point of stripping bare in his presence. He glanced at Jared who was walking close as if to catch Jensen if he should waver or stumble over his own feet. Maybe it was because he reminded Jensen so much of Sam and he could feel Dean’s unfaltering trust in Sam, rooted in his own psyche. Maybe it was because Jared had been looking after him from the moment he’d arrived, despite him having done nothing to earn that kindness. In fact, Jared had every reason to dislike him but for some reason he had decided he didn’t.
“Uhm, I should warn you,” Jared suddenly said, as if he’d read his thoughts. “We might run into some angry folks. News of your arrival spread quickly.”
Jensen sighed. “Well, at least they weren’t angry enough to kill me in my sleep.”
“They’re not that angry,” Jared said but he didn’t sound overly sure. “Just… annoyed.”
“As long as Daisy still serves me coffee, I can take it.”
Although, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he could. On his best of days, he could stand up to anyone, save perhaps his family, but this wasn’t his best day. It wasn’t his worst either but then again, his worst days included watching Sam being mauled to death by monsters.
Continued here.
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 41.464 words
Summary: "This was usually how it started. He was in a room, not always the same but they were all tacky, tasteless motel rooms where the sheets smelled like old cigarettes and the beds sagged in the middle. He knew that when he opened his eyes he would see another bed, sheets rumpled. There was a man in the room, someone who spoke to him with a familiarity Jensen didn’t even have with his mother. The man was tall and muscular, and his name was Sam. And Jensen’s own name was Dean."
Warnings: Nightmares featuring horror, sexual violence, torture and repeated main character death. (But with a happy ending!) Spoilers for SPN 15.20.
Author's note: Well, here it is, my (almost) annual New Year's Eve fic. One night I was thinking about that saying that there are only two stories, "A stranger comes to town" and "A man goes on a journey", and consequently wrote the first few paragraphs of this. Then I got stuck as I didn't know where to take it until the Supernatural angle suddenly occurred to me. So this is "A stranger rides into town on a black stead - well, in a black classic car which is pretty much the same thing - and promptly collapses." Not the most heroic beginnings but then again the main character never set out to be a hero. Or even a main character really. Certainly not in the horror story he keeps getting put in.
Beta'd as always by the wonderful candygramme. Also available on AO3.
The car came to a stop in a cloud of dust that twirled for a moment in the low evening sun before settling quietly over the black hood like a soft, sandy blanket.
Jensen turned off the engine. His shoulders sagged and for a moment he just sat, caught up in his exhaustion. Then he took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out of the car, hands tight on the sturdy frame. The silence that greeted him felt comforting, after hours upon hours of the rumbling engine vibrating his skull. He looked around with a slight frown, unconsciously tapping the hot roof with his fingers. Tap-tap-taptap. Tap-tap-taptap. Hmm. This couldn’t be right.
He’d been to his share of small towns, or rather driven through them. Sometimes stopping for gas or crashed down on a bed in an empty motel room before driving on so early the next morning no one was even awake to see him go.
This was not small. This was a grain of sand on the map, a speck that you’d never even notice unless you deliberately planned to go there.
He counted ten buildings lined up on each side of the street (Singular! Like in some damn western.) and that was all. Under a vast sky with open space in every direction, land as flat as it could be. He stood there, as small and insignificant as that grain of sand on the map, like a speck of dust on an abandoned Earth. It was…
The world turned on its axis.
He dove back inside the car, dropping flat on his back across the front bench seat, feet still on the ground, kicking gravel. The setting sun attacked him through the open door on the driver’s side, turning everything into a bright, burning inferno and he squeezed his eyes shut. Sucking in dust with every panicked breath, fingers clawing at his chest as if he could rip it open and let air in that way. He felt himself being pulled down, stomach dropping through his spine and sinking into the vinyl as the now familiar vortex drew him in. For the first time he contemplated letting go, just letting himself disappear into-
“Hey, man, you alright?” A warm hand landed on his knee, squeezing it gently.
Jensen’s eyes sprang open. A large form filled his vision, black and burning around the edges, casting a dark shadow over him. Survival instinct broke through his terror, making him scramble further into the car, feet uselessly kicking air.
“Hey, hey! It’s alright.” The form grew even larger, turning into a man rising up and backing away from where he’d been squatting by the open door, the setting sun burning behind him like a halo. A slow breeze made the mop of hair flicker like flames.
The pendulum swung out of the darkness and back into reality.
Jensen swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut again for a moment before sitting up, rubbing one hand over his face. The low rasping of soft stubble catching on his calluses told him he hadn’t shaved in too many days, hadn’t showered in almost as long. He couldn’t even remember if he’d changed his clothes since he headed off, however long ago that was. “Shit.”
He scooted back out of the car, coming to a shaky stand before the man who’d stepped further away to give him some reassuring space. Jensen almost reached out to pull him back in. Somehow, a human being close enough to touch made the blackening sky seem less imposing, the land not as vast. He was evidence that Jensen wasn’t alone in this whole damned world.
He felt suddenly embarrassed. It tugged at his temper, like it was prone to when he felt out of his element. Which, these days, seemed more of a permanent state. “’M fine,” he said brusquely. “Just tired. Been driving.”
The man laughed, sounding relieved. “I hear ya. You stopping for caffeine? Come on, I’ll walk you over.”
“No, I…”
But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t form the words.
“Sure. That sounds good,” he said instead and locked the car before following the tall form still shadowed by the sunset, leading them across the single street to a small (Everything was so small.) building that claimed it had the best coffee in town. With a cheeky winking emoji painted in garish yellow, acknowledging the absurdity of that statement.
They stepped inside, the tall stranger automatically ducking his head as he went through the door even if he would have made it unscathed, if only just. The setting sun had rendered Jensen more or less blind, the contrasting gloom inside stole what little sight he had left as his eyes fought to adjust.
“Got you a customer!” his companion called out, voice so loud Jensen winced. “Sorry,” the man amended. “She can’t hear that well.”
“Can hear you plenty, kiddo,” a scratchy voice muttered. There was the sound of a chair screeching across the floor before a wrinkly head, haloed by white cotton, rose from behind the counter. “Who’s that?”
“Customer.” The man sounded effortlessly cheerful, like that was his natural state. Jensen wondered what that felt like. Must be nice. “Stopped for a coffee. And something to eat might be a good idea. Right?”
It took Jensen a second to realize the question was aimed at him. He turned his head, getting a proper look at the man for the first time since he’d taken Jensen under his wing. He was older than he’d sounded, somewhere around Jensen’s own age, he guessed. Maybe slightly younger. The flaming hair had darkened to a brown mop, though still just as unruly, the eyes were catlike and smiling, color too indistinct in the gloomy light to be determined. The man’s mouth was wide, stretched into a soft grin. He looked kind. He looked concerned. He seemed oddly familiar. He also seemed unlikely to take no for an answer.
“Yeah,” Jensen heard himself answering and realized he was hungry. Odd. “That would be good.”
The man smiled even wider, snatching them a couple of menus from the counter before striding to a table in the corner with a familiarity that marked it as his regular. Jensen followed, sliding into the booth across from the stranger, banging his ankles against the table leg and his knees into the stranger’s long legs that folded like a flamingo’s underneath the table.
Soon as Jensen sat down the familiar fatigue ascended upon him, like lead in his blood and bones dragging him down. He lost focus, everything going slightly blurry as he stared sightlessly ahead, absentmindedly wondering if he needed to lay his head down on the table. His companion said something Jensen couldn’t hear. The world was there but not really. He was still present, he guessed, but if someone told him he was dead, he wouldn’t have been surprised.
Coffee suddenly appeared in front of him, the aroma stirring him awake enough that he managed to wrap his hand around the warm mug, inhaling deeply before taking a careful sip.
It was good. Not the best he’d had, but so far above the roadside coffee he’d been forced to drink these last few days, he felt close to tears. He could feel the man watching him as he slowly emptied the mug, one heavenly sip at a time. The man must have waved the woman over because when Jensen drained the last drop, she was already there, waiting to fill him up.
“Thank you,” he said, feeling pathetically grateful. She smiled, her pruned faced rippling as the wrinkles settled into a look of happiness. He blinked slowly, gazing at her, at the lines formed by a lifetime of love, grief, and heartbreak. God, she must be at least a hundred. She shouldn’t still be here. Just like he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t…
Jensen straightened, blinking rapidly. Jesus, he was so exhausted he felt high with it. He needed to sleep. (He didn’t want to sleep.) He needed sleep.
“Take your time,” she said, tapping the menu that still lay untouched on the table. “I ain’t closing for another hour.”
She nodded at the man sitting across from him, who Jensen had for a moment forgotten was there, the glint in her eye conveying some message that his companion seemed to understand because he nodded as well, the lips that had gone slack in thought quirking up on one side in a small grin.
“What was that?” Jensen asked as soon as he deemed her out of earshot. It was rude. He had no right to their private communication, but he didn’t like feeling left out. The room suddenly seemed ominously dim. Maybe this was what they did to strangers who came to this tiny town: gave them poisoned coffee, and then buried them out in the desert. Would explain the town’s lack of expansion in a world plagued by overpopulation. Jensen felt a sting of unease. He still drank the coffee. It was good.
“Hmm?” the man said, looking back at him. His eyes were an odd color, undecided between green and hazel with a glint of grey. “Oh, nothing. She’s just… I’m…” He flushed slightly pink. It was unexpected enough that Jensen almost inhaled his next sip. “You feeling better?” the man asked, changing the subject so blatantly Jensen decided to let whatever was embarrassing him slide. It wasn’t really his business.
“Yeah. Guess I just…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know how to explain, didn’t want to. It was private and he didn’t know this man from Adam. “Tired, you know.”
“Yeah, you said.” The man tilted his head, as if waiting for him to continue.
“The sun, I guess. Felt dizzy,” Jensen lied. “Not enough sleep. Been driving… Long way. New York.” The man whistled, seeming impressed, by the distance Jensen guess, not his eloquence. “This helps,” Jensen added, lifting the coffee mug before taking another sip. It really was good. Poisoned or not, it was worth it. (He didn’t really think they were serial killers. Not even his luck was that bad. Not in this world.)
“Looks like it. I mean, you look better. Not as pale.”
The man smiled. It lit up his whole face. He had a big nose, with a big mole right next to it like an old-fashioned beauty mark. Everything about him was big. His hands had long bony fingers, his feet kept bumping into Jensen’s, like he couldn’t find enough space underneath the table for the both of them. Even his head looked big with that unruly mop of hair expanding his silhouette.
“I’m Jared, by the way.” The man, Jared, reached over the table. His hand was even bigger than it had seemed wrapped around his coffee mug. Jensen’s own hand got engulfed in Jared’s tight grip. “Padalecki. It’s a mouthful, I know.” Jared grinned.
‘Bet you are,’ Jensen’s brain submitted unhelpfully. His cheeks reddened. “Jensen. Ackles.”
Jared went eerily still. “Ackles,” he echoed, slowly pulling his hand back. He stared at Jensen for what seemed a very long minute and then smiled again, eyes guarded. As if he’d just realized he wasn’t just helping out a stranger but making a lasting acquaintance. “So, I guess this is your place.”
Jensen blinked. He looked around. “This?” he asked. It was smaller than he’d imagined, which was saying something because everything in this town was so small. Everything except Jared. He must feel like a giant, living here. If he did live here.
“You think there’d be more than one diner in this town?” Jared asked. Mocked. Suddenly he didn’t seem so friendly.
“I wasn’t sure I was in the right town,” Jensen admitted. “There was no sign.”
“Huh,” Jared said then turned his head and yelled, “Daisy!”
Jensen caught his breath. “Wait!” He wasn’t ready. He didn’t even know…
She walked over, fingers fumbling with the hearing aid hooked behind her ear. “Always with the yelling. What? You boys ready to order?”
“Guess who this is,” Jared said loudly, sliding out of the booth. “Mr. Jensen Ackles.”
She froze. The friendly grin slid off her face. “Already?” she said, her voice sounding so faint that Jensen stood up as well, reaching out to catch her if she should fall. She flinched, stepping back. “Of course,” she sighed and then she turned on her heel and hurried back into the kitchen.
Jensen stood still, not sure what to do. He looked at Jared who had gone pink in the face, dipping his head as if ashamed of the brutal way he’d handled their introduction.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Jensen said slowly, “but I’m not here to fuck anyone over.”
Jared looked up. His mouth was set in a thin line. “This place is all she has.”
“It’s not really hers.” Jensen sighed inwardly when Jared’s face went tight. “I just mean… It was left to me. I never asked…” He took a deep breath. “I’m just here to take a look, that’s all.”
Not like he’d move here, take up what little space this town had to offer. If any. He knew he didn’t belong. He knew that. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.
The heaviness suddenly rushed back in, descending upon him like a dark waterfall. He grabbed hold of the table, sliding back into the booth before he folded onto the floor, like a distressed damsel in a bad romance novel. Jared hesitated then followed his example, sitting down across from him, a look of reluctant concern on his face.
“You alright? You don’t look so hot.”
“Thanks,” Jensen replied automatically, feeling a small sting of satisfaction when Jared winced. “I’m fine. Just…”
“Tired. Yeah, you keep saying that.” Jared tilted his head. “I’ve seen tired. Man, I’ve been tired. This looks different.” Jared slid back out of his seat. “I’m gonna rustle you up something to eat. Don’t think Daisy’s in the mood.”
“You don’t have to…” Jensen’s voice trailed off as his head landed in the cradle of his elbow, eyes squeezed shut. “Shit.”
“You gonna pass out?” Hands nudged surprisingly gently at his shoulder, pushing him further in on the bench.
“No... I don’t know.” He tried to raise his head, but the darkness was thick as molasses, gluing him in place. God, please, he didn’t want to fall asleep! He let out a mortifying whimper, his hand shooting out for something to hold on to, finding big bony fingers, squeezing his own with comforting strength.
“It’s alright. You’re alright. Just breathe. Breathe. Mr. Ackles? Hey! Jensen, you with me?”
He breathed, concentrating on the voice that earlier had sounded so cold but now was soft and warm with concern, like Jared just couldn’t help it. Like he was just too nice a person to be mad at someone so pathetic.
“I’m here,” Jensen finally managed to croak out. Everything was still black around the edges, familiar shadows lurking at the edges of his visions. Always ready to swarm in to drown him. It was the kind of blackness that swallowed light, that thrived on its absence, on his weak attempts to fight back. “Just… give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.”
The hand he was holding shifted and he clamped down in panic, but Jared only adjusted his grip, the heat of his palm, his fingers, like rays of sunshine seeping warmth into Jensen’s cold skin. He heard some mumbling, low voices trying to stay unobtrusive, and then there was silence. After a while the smell of bacon drifted over, salty and comforting. He breathed. He breathed. He breathed.
After a long time he finally lifted his head, blinking blurrily in the darkened room. The sun had gone down and apart from a sliver of light, shining through the crack of a door behind the counter, leading presumably to the kitchen, and the soft flicker of candles on the tables, the place was blessedly dark. A solid presence warmed one side and Jensen realized Jared must have moved over in order to more comfortably hold his hand.
Jensen straightened his cramped fingers and slid his hand out of Jared’s warm grip. “Thank you.” He looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry for… I apologize.”
“Don’t.” Jared’s voice was low as a whisper. He didn’t move away.
The bench should have felt too cramped for two larger than average men, but Jensen felt more grounded than he had in a long time, with the heat of Jared’s muscular thigh and shoulder pressing into his own. It was a strange feeling, almost foreign. Unearned.
Jensen leaned back. Only then did he feel the weight of Jared’s free arm on his shoulders, the heat of it warming his neck. It was a welcome change from the sweat-soaked bone chill he usually woke up to.
“I just have this…” He stopped. Closed his eyes and relished in the feeling of another person’s proximity. He usually appreciated his own space, wasn’t much for close contact in his day-to-day life, but Jared’s warmth felt reassuring, calming, safe. “Thing. It’s hard to explain.”
“You don’t have to.” Jared shifted, as if to move away, and Jensen tensed in disappointment. Jared stilled, then settled back down, large hand closing over Jensen’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “We can just sit here and not talk.”
“Now, that’d be new challenge for you, kid,” Daisy’s hoarse voice said as plates loaded with eggs, sausages and bacon landed before them.
Jensen started to pull away in mortification, suddenly realizing what it must look like, what they must look like, knowing he wasn’t in any shape to deal with it, not now, but Jared’s fingers curled around his shoulder, reassuring, and Jensen responded without meaning to, settling back into Jared’s side, slotted there like a puzzle piece, comforted, calmed.
“Now, why you need to embarrass me like that?” Jared said to the old woman, lower lip slipping down into a pout. It made him look like a boy, and Jensen suddenly questioned his earlier assessment regarding Jared’s age. There was something playful about him, not childish but boy like. Innocent. Jensen couldn’t even imagine what that felt like. “My sweet Daisy.”
She swatted at his head with her towel, the scowl barely hiding her smile. “Stop flirting and eat your food.”
“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, ma’am,” Jensen said, looking at the mountain of food before him. His mouth watered despite his stomach’s usual protest.
“Is what I do. For now.” She gave him a calculating look. “Guess it’s on the house. The house being yours and all.”
“No, I’m paying,” he said quickly, then realized he’d left his wallet and phone in the car. Jesus, he really was a mess. “I’ll pay. Just give me a minute and I-”
He tried to nudge Jared out of the way but the man didn’t move an inch, just gave him a look, all play gone from his gaze, fingers digging into Jensen’s shoulder, keeping him still. He subtly shook his head. Jensen sighed and settled back down.
Daisy snorted. “Relax and eat your food, Mr. Ackles.”
He winced. “Jensen. Please.”
She looked unconvinced, like accepting his name would mean she accepted him and what it meant, him being here.
“Please,” he repeated. “I don’t…” He trailed off. How could he explain over thirty years of fearing the name he was forced to carry? Why would she even care?
“Alright,” she said after a moment, her voice softer, like she’d seen something in his eyes he hadn’t meant to disclose. “Jensen. Eat your food.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He looked at the steaming heap of food before him. His stomach sent a warning cramp. He ignored it. He needed to eat. And this looked better than anything he’d had in too long to remember.
Jared squeezed his shoulder before letting go, fingers trailing down Jensen’s side then along his waist as he pulled free to pick up his utensils. Jensen’s neck felt cold, his whole body wobbly without the weight of Jared’s arm holding him steady. He picked up his knife and fork, unwrapping them from their napkin swaddle. Relaxed when Jared shifted and moved his thigh closer, pushing it warm and firm against Jensen’s own.
They ate in silence, only disturbed by Daisy tottering by to fill up their coffee mugs. Jensen had already had too much, his nerves were firing off like exposed wires, but the coffee sliding down his throat warmed his chest in a way food never managed. He ate half a sausage, a few bites of bacon, shoveled a couple of forks of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Then stopped, closing his eyes as he breathed slowly through his nose.
“You don’t need to finish,” Jared said quietly. “It’s okay.”
Jensen opened his eyes to find Daisy watching him hawklike from behind the counter. He picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of bacon but halfway to his mouth he had to put it down again.
“Just haven’t been eating much,” he murmured, afraid she was listening, despite Jared claiming she was hard of hearing. Maybe she could read lips. Maybe she had bugged the table. Maybe he was really losing his mind. “Lost the habit, I guess.”
Jared looked at him and Jensen realized how weird he must sound. Then Jared grinned and said, “Explains why your ass is so skinny,” and the heavy stone on Jensen’s chest lifted, just a little.
“You’re… skinny,” he retorted, not caring that he sounded juvenile. Jared’s grin grew even wider. Jensen couldn’t help smiling back, ducking his head as he felt his face grow hot. Were they flirting? Or was this just how people talked? He wouldn’t know. He’d fallen out of that habit as well.
He leaned back, allowing himself to relax against Jared’s side, watching him eat with a gusto that made Jensen feel strangely happy. Everything about Jared seemed larger than life, his size, his smile, his appetite. His kindness which Jensen had done nothing to earn, quite the opposite, but been given none the same, as if offering a stranger comfort came as natural to Jared as breathing.
“You live in town?” Jensen asked after a while, when there was only a little food left on Jared’s plate. He caught Jared eyeing the food Jensen himself had abandoned and without thinking he pushed it over. Jared pulled the plate close, grinning, if a little bashful, and tucked in.
“Sure,” he said after he’d swallowed. “Work here, too.” He tilted his head in a direction along the street. “Got a practice over in Parker’s House, an apartment upstairs. Blue one, can’t miss it,” he elaborated when Jensen just blinked at him.
Jensen raised his eyebrows. Jared was wearing ripped jeans and a plaid shirt that had seen better days, or rather decades. Not to stereotype but… “Practice? What, law? Doctor?”
“Vet.” Jared grinned. “I know, you were being nice, not mentioning the smell.”
Jensen hadn’t really noticed. He just thought Jared smelled like everything else in this place, like fresh air and grass and dust. A hint of dog. Good. But then again his sense of smell wasn’t exactly stellar these days, with his nostrils stuffed with the stink of blood and smoke and sulfur…
Don’t.
Stop.
Think about something else.
“Honestly, I figured that was Daisy,” he said, jumping when she suddenly stood up, eyes narrowing. He could feel Jared laughing, his body shaking slightly though there was no sound. “Shit.”
“She really can’t hear you. I think.” Jared shot Daisy a smile and yelled, “Excellent, like always, Daisy!”
“Don’t yell! I ain’t deaf!” she shot back, reaching up to adjust her hearing aid with a small frown.
“She keeps forgetting to turn them on. Or change the batteries. Honestly, I’m not even sure they do much when they’re working.”
“How old is she?” Jensen asked, keeping his voice low.
Jared tilted his head in thought. “You know, I’ve never had the balls to ask her. But you go right ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Jensen lifted his hands, palms out. “Nuhuh. I value my balls, thank you very much.”
Jared chuckled. “She already looked to be a hundred when I moved here. And that was two years ago.”
“Shouldn’t she retire?” Jensen realized his blunder when Jared’s smile fell. He quickly added, “I’m not firing anyone. Certainly not a hundred-and-two-year-old woman that scares the crap out of me.”
Jared drew in a breath and sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry I was such a jerk. It’s just been…” The smile was quick, uneasy. “We don’t really like change.”
“Never said I meant to change anything,” Jensen said, although some things would have to if he was keeping this place. Like adding some nicer lighting in here. And air-conditioning. And hire some extra hands-
Shit, what the hell was he doing? He couldn’t stay here. “I just came to take a look.”
“And then what?” Jared’s mouth twitched, as if he was fighting to be civil. “It belongs to you now. This place and all the rest. Well, half of it. You can’t just ignore it.”
“Wait, what?” Jensen frowned at him. “What rest? Uncle Jack left me his property, meaning this diner and the land it’s on, I guess.”
Jared raised his eyebrows, as if Jensen was being deliberately obtuse. “His property. Which includes everything on this side of the street. Every house, every lot, every… I don’t know, sidewalk, lamppost, whatever. It’s all yours now.”
Jensen stared at him. His chest felt increasingly tight. “That can’t be… No. I’m not…. No.”
“Jack Ackles bought this place about two years ago. Then took over Morgan’s mortgage, next door, forcing them out. Overbid another house a little further down then...” Jared huffed. “You get the picture. Folks didn’t even realize what was going on until suddenly he owned every damn building on this side of the street. He’d started bidding on a property on the other side when… Well, he up and died. So, when we found out some city boy, no offence, had inherited the whole lot… Frankly, we’ve been waiting for the eviction notices to start flowing in.”
Jensen gaped. “Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder y’all hate me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jared looked unsure for the first time since they met. Which felt like days but bizarrely enough was less than an hour ago. “You really didn’t know? How the hell could you not know?”
“I didn’t read all the paperwork?” Jensen put his head in his hands. God, he was too tired for this shit. What the hell had he gotten himself into? “I can’t really… I get tired.” He didn’t know how to explain bright paper attacking his eyes, the letters swimming on the white surface like drowning ants, words losing their meaning before he could connect them. “I just remembered him talking about this place. I thought… I thought that’s all there was. I didn’t know… Oh Jesus.”
Jared’s heavy arm slid back over his shoulders. “Maybe you should lie down.”
“I’m fine…” Jensen started when another wave of vertigo hit, spinning the universe on its axis, throwing nausea up into his throat. Fuck. If he puked Daisy’s food, she would probably hack him to bits with a meat ax. “Yeah, okay. Might need a hand to my car,” he admitted as Jared helped him stand up.
“You’re not sleeping in your car.” He could practically hear Jared rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? You practically own this town. Well, half of it. You can have like your pick of houses to live in.”
“I’m not throwing someone out of their home!” Jensen protested. “What the hell you take me for?”
“Good to know. But I meant empty houses. Weren’t all that wanted to stay after they’d sold, guess they figured they’d rather spend their money elsewhere than on rent. This place is practically a ghost town now. You inherited a ghost town.”
“You’re still here. And… Daisy,” Jensen said lamely. Although he wouldn’t be surprised if she was already dead, just moving around out of pure stubbornness.
“Ain’t got nowhere else to go,” Jared muttered. “What’s your favorite color?”
Jensen blinked. What? “Uh, blue?”
Jared huffed. “You’re not getting my house! Plus, it’s on the other side of the street. Not one of yours. Choose another.”
Jensen’s muddled brain couldn’t remember a single color of the rainbow, ironically enough. “Don’t care. Any room with a bed. And curtains. Please.”
Jared’s arm tightened around his shoulder as he steered him out through the door. “We’re not gonna go peeping through your windows, man.”
“No, but the sun will, tomorrow morning. Wait, my bag! In the car.”
Jared turned and steered him across the street, arm tight around Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen went along with it, wasn’t much else he could do. He was fading fast, much faster than yesterday. There was no denying it anymore, he was getting worse.
Jared stood by as Jensen retrieved his phone and wallet from the glove compartment, his movements slow and sluggish. Then he went around to open the trunk to get his bag, containing a change of clothes and toiletries.
“How did you manage to drive all the way here if you can’t stand the sun?” Jared suddenly asked. “Ooh, you’re not a vampire, right?”
“Funny.” Jensen hoisted the bag up on his shoulder and almost tipped over, saved only by Jared grabbing his arm. This was really getting humiliating. “I wear sunglasses,” he spat out, not mentioning the stabbing headaches or the dry eyeballs making his eyes burn.
“Okay. I was just curious.”
Jared relieved Jensen of the bag before he could form a protest, then put his arm nonchalantly around Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him firmly to his side, like they were a sweet couple going for an intimate stroll. Jensen stiffened before giving up with a silent long exhale. What did it matter anyway?
“This all you’ve got?”
“Like I said, only meant to take a look,” Jensen said. Mumbled. Forming words was getting increasingly difficult. “Wasn’t planning on staying.”
“Still, New York. Long drive back and forth.”
Jared steered him across the street again towards a two-storied house, pink with white windowpanes and a pale green door. Jensen thought of objecting out of principle, but really, he was so damn tired he’d happily accept Barbie’s Dream House as long as it had a bed that fit him.
“You know, with my job, I do laundry pretty much every day. You’re free to throw in some of your things, if you need to.”
“Thanks. I’m good.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t taken the bag out of the trunk at all since he left four - or was it five? - days ago. God, his socks were going to smell something awful when he took his shoes off. He decidedly didn’t think of the state of his underwear. Or his teeth. His mouth tasted sour with coffee and halitosis.
He wasn’t usually this… pathetic. It had been a bad week. Well, month really. Life. Honestly, these days, if he managed to get out of bed and not tumble right back in after his morning piss, he considered it a success. If he ate food, or had anything other than coffee, it was practically Christmas. Showers and clean clothes were so low on his list of desired accomplishments he hardly ever thought about them. He was just grateful Jared didn’t complain about the undoubtfully bad smell that had to be wafting from beneath his armpits. Thank God he’d stopped smoking. Not for health or even economic reasons, but because he almost set his apartment on fire, falling asleep with a cigarette burning between his fingers. Twice. He was surprised by how little he missed it. But then again, he didn’t really feel much about anything anymore.
“It shouldn’t be too dusty,” Jared said as he fetched the keys from underneath the welcome mat and unlocked the front door. “Maggie - she’s the one whose been handling your properties, collecting rent and such - has been keeping everything nice and clean. You should probably thank her at some point.”
Jensen grunted then flinched as Jared turned on the light in the hallway. Damn, that was bright! Like someone was attacking his brain with a thousand needles.
“Oops, sorry. Esther, the old woman who used to live here, always lit up the whole street with her million-watt bulbs. You’re probably gonna want to change them.”
Jensen gritted his teeth. “Can we just… Bedroom?”
“Oh yeah. Of course. Come on.” Jared grabbed Jensen’s waist, hauling him to his feet as his knees started to give in. “Just as well you’re not heavy. You know, if you want, I could probably carry you up the stairs.”
Jensen bristled. Goddammit, he was not a child! “You’re not carrying me up the damn stairs!”
He started the painstakingly slow journey to the upper floor, one heavy foot after another, Jared keeping a tight grip around his waist. By the time they reached the upper landing he was breathing heavily and felt a little faint. Fuck.
“Where to?” he grunted but Jared was already steering him towards a door on the right, pushing it open with the hand carrying the bag before turning on the lights. Again the brightness assaulted Jensen’s eyes but Jared quickly lowered him on the bed, turned on the reading lamp that was only a little dimmer, and killed the overhead lights.
“Better?”
Jensen nodded, arm slung over his eyes as he leaned back on the pillows. “Thanks. I can take it from here,” he added testily when he heard nothing indicating Jared was leaving.
“Uh. Yeah, sure. Uhm, bathroom’s across the hall. This room is on the west side so the morning sun shouldn’t bother you too much. You want me to unpack your bag? Grab your washing? It’s no trouble, really.”
“Just leave it. I’ll get to it tomorrow,” he said, resolutely not lifting his arm.
“Okay.” He could hear Jared shift, as if unsure. “Yeah. Uhm, good night. Guess I’ll see you around. Hard not to, town this small,” he added with an awkward laugh.
“Yeah.” Jensen had spent the last few years making sure to keep everyone at a distance. And now he was here, in this tiny, tiny place, responsible for people he could not get away from. “Night.”
He listened to Jared’s steps down the stairs, surprisingly light for a man that size, the clink of keys being dropped on the small table in the entry, and the softer click of the door closing behind him. Jensen exhaled. He should go downstairs and lock the door. He should undress and go brush his teeth. He should… He closed his eyes.
“Dean, wake up. We gotta get going.”
He kept his eyes stubbornly shut, but it was no use. An arm shook him, urging him to get his lazy ass out of bed. It was time, the fight was waiting. And there was no getting out of it.
This was usually how it started. He was in a room, not always the same but they were all tacky, tasteless motel rooms where the sheets smelled like old cigarettes and the beds sagged in the middle. He knew that when he opened his eyes he would see another bed, sheets rumpled. There was a man in the room, someone who spoke to him with a familiarity Jensen didn’t even have with his mother. The man was tall and muscular, and his name was Sam. And Jensen’s own name was Dean. He knew that was his name because Sam kept repeating it. “Dean, we have to…” and “Dean, why are you…”. He knew Sam’s name because Dean screamed it when-
He never saw Sam’s face, it was always blurry.
In every dream they were in a hurry, because apparently they had to save people. A lot. He didn’t understand it but that seemed to be their job. Which in this world meant fighting horrible monsters. Every night. And then, every night, they died.
Sometimes Sam died first, and the pain Dean felt watching him fall was like his tether to life itself had been severed. When it came time for his own death, he usually welcomed it. Not because he thought he’d be reunited with Sam. That was very clear. They were both being sent to Hell (Why? Jensen couldn’t understand. Weren’t they heroes?) but Dean knew he was headed for the common pit while Sam, for some reason, had his own place reserved in Lucifer’s cage.
That was the worst part of it. Not dying, not the pain and torture awaiting them, for an eternity, but the fact that they were ripped apart, never to see each other again. Because, and this Jensen felt with every bone, every muscle, every blood vessel in Dean’s body, they loved each other so much that nothing else in the whole wide world really mattered to them. Not killing the monsters, not saving the world, nothing. Everything Dean did was for Sam, and Jensen was sure that everything Sam did was for Dean. Even dying. Especially dying. This was the end of the road and the last chance they had to save the other. But every single night he died with Sam screaming his name, or watched Sam die while screaming Sam’s name, and every single night he knew they were losing each other. Forever.
This night would be no different, except something about Sam’s retreating back felt familiar. Something…
Sam called out for him to hurry and Jensen rose out of bed, feeling just as weary as when he lay down, in another bed, in another house, in another reality. He was already dressed, he even had his boots on. Seemed Dean had just been taking a nap, gathering strength for the battle. Too bad Jensen had no strength left and he didn’t really know how to fight anyway.
The first few times he tried to tell Sam that he wasn’t Dean, that he had no idea how he got there, that he didn’t want to fight because he had no clue how. That he didn’t want to die. But Dean never said those things. Dean said, “Yeah, okay.” And “Wait up, Sammy.” And “You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that?” no matter what words Jensen formed in his mouth. And then Dean followed Sam out into the night, with a gun in his hand and such love in his heart that he was ready to take on the whole world to prove it.
This time was no different. Dean put on his jacket, gathered his gun, and grabbed car keys off the set of drawers. Outside waited their car, his car, their home if what he felt whenever he slid behind the wheel was to rely on.
The car was this reality’s only connection to Jensen’s real life. It was the same model, even the same make as his own. Just like Jensen’s own beloved classic, this one was a beauty, a beast of a vehicle, rumbling to life as he turned the ignition. And then they drove… somewhere. It was always different. Sometimes a dirt road, sometimes a graveyard, sometimes an old barn. It didn’t matter, the end was always the same.
This time it was a cabin up a mountain side. They had to hike the last part of the way and while Dean was cursing and sweating, Jensen felt the uselessness of the whole thing. Why go through all this extra work for the same damn outcome? He should just stop, sit down, and ask Sam to join him in waiting for death to come to them. But Dean soldiered on along the overgrown track, only so he could watch Sam die in that damn cabin while his heart broke in too many pieces to ever be put together again. And then he also died. Jensen didn’t even see how, this time, there was just excruciating pain, then blackness. Then hell fire where he screamed and cried and begged-
And then he was back in his bed. The sun was filtering through the edges of the curtain of the otherwise dark room. Jensen lay still, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. His whole body ached. He could hear people talking some way away, maybe in the next house over or possibly in the middle of the street. He couldn’t imagine they got much traffic running through town, miles away from the highway. Only people who came here were people with business to attend, whether that be personal or other, or people who got lost. Jensen gathered he was both.
He was still wondering if there was any point in getting up when he heard someone knock on the front door downstairs. It creaked open before he could decide whether to answer or let it be. Guess Jared hadn’t locked behind him when leaving the keys.
“Jensen, you up there?” shouted a familiar voice.
Familiar in more ways than one, Jensen suddenly realized. It echoed the voice of Sam from his dreams, nightmares, whatever he should call his nightly adventures. Actually, a lot of Jared felt familiar now he thought about it. It was strange he hadn’t made the connection before but then again, he’d been too exhausted to think much of anything. Much like now. But with the death of Sam still painfully fresh in his mind, the resemblance was eerie. His voice, his build, the way he moved.
Jensen shook his head. He was being stupid. He must have fallen asleep with Jared still on his mind and then he’d somehow altered Sam to fit. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him no, he hadn’t, Sam was just the way he’d always been. Tall, muscular, beautiful. Dead.
“Hey.” Jared stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as if he was trying to make himself look less imposing. He must have made his way up the stairs while Jensen was having his freakout. “You look like shit,” he said.
Jensen sighed and closed his eyes.
“Sorry,” Jared said, voice moving closer. His steps were strangely soft for a man his size. “It’s just, it’s five o’clock. I was getting worried. Haven’t seen you all day. Daisy said she hadn’t seen you either.” The voice seemed to be right by Jensen’s ear. “You need to eat.”
Jensen didn’t answer. He felt too tired to talk. To move. To get up and eat something, if only to ease Jared’s worries. He could still taste blood and ash in his mouth.
“Wait here,” Jared said.
Jensen heard him move away and a little while later hurry down the stairs. His mind drifted.
He thought about the deer he’d almost hit a couple of days ago, how it has gazed at him, frozen, in the middle of the road, before disappearing into the trees.
He thought about the couple he’d heard fucking in the room next door at the hotel (never motels, not if he could help it) he’d stayed in three, or was it four, nights ago. It was a cheap shithole, and the walls were thin, and the man kept calling the woman a whore and a slut as he slammed into her, hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the walls. She never made a sound, not until later, when he’d left with a slam of the door. Then she laughed and then she cried and then she left a little while later. Jensen hoped she got paid well and proper.
He thought about Sam dying, his blurry face turning bloody as he choked out Dean’s name-
“Here.”
He opened his eyes to find Jared standing by the bed, glass of water in his hand. “I bet you’re dehydrated,” he said, then “Let me help you up,” after putting the glass on the bedstand.
Jensen just blinked at him.
“C’mon.”
Before he knew it, he was sitting up, pillows being pushed in behind his back. He wanted to say he wasn’t sick, but maybe he was. Maybe he was, above all, sick in the head. Lord knows he wasn’t feeling normal in any sense of the word.
The glass was pushed against his lips, and he tipped his head slightly back, drinking it down. He wasn’t really thirsty, but he figured it would appease Jared to see him doing something normal.
“There you go.” Jared put the glass down then gripped Jensen’s chin, gently, and tilted his head up, studying him. “You look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep at all?”
“Don’t sleep much,” Jensen lied. Well, probably lied. Truth was, he had no idea if he was asleep or not when he was in that other place. He sure didn’t get any rest.
“Hm.” Jared frowned. “Seen a doctor?”
“A few.”
They all said the same. He just needed rest. Possibly in a facility strapped to the bed if he kept talking about Sam and Dean and the world ending in death and destruction. Otherwise, he was healthy. The exhaustion, the heightened sensory issues, the lack of appetite, the feelings of unreality… all of it could be blamed on him not getting enough sleep. Apparently. They tried a sleep study but kept having to wake him up because he wouldn’t stop screaming. They gave him sleeping pills but all they did was make the dreams even darker, more violent. And he woke up just as tired. After that Jensen decided they didn’t know their ass from their elbow and stopped answering their calls.
“Well, I’d offer you horse tranquilizers, but I might lose my license,” Jared joked. He still looked worried. Hesitant. Like he was thinking of throwing Jensen in the trunk of his car and driving him to the nearest hospital.
Jensen lifted his hand, heavy and aching, and rubbed at his temple. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“You don’t get to decide what I worry about,” Jared said. “Frankly, I ain’t too happy, knowing you drove all the way here from New York. That’s me worrying, right there, about the fact you might have killed yourself. Or others.”
“I’m not that bad,” Jensen protested. Jared just looked at him. “Alright, I am now but I wasn’t. Not like this. It’s just been building up and…” He stopped. Didn’t add, I think I might be dying. It felt too melodramatic. And probably untrue. Probably.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Month maybe?”
“A month?”
“Something like that.”
He pushed at the covers, wondering when he’d had the thought to undress, to crawl underneath. Wondering if Jared had come back last night and found him passed out, had taken off his shoes, his shirt and jeans, and tucked him in. Wondering why the thought didn’t disturb him, though it did make him feel self-conscious. He wasn’t exactly in the best shape of his life. His latest doctor had used the word gaunt.
Jared backed off, clearing the way out of the room and to the bathroom, but he didn’t move any further, standing vigilant, as if he was waiting for Jensen to collapse. Jensen did stumble at one point but caught himself on the doorframe before Jared could jump to the rescue. Jensen made a point of closing the bathroom door but he left it unlocked. He might still have some pride left but he wasn’t stupid.
The bathroom was blaringly bright and pink, but clean and it held towels (pink), soap (pink), and a generic bottle of shampoo (thankfully not pink). Jensen wondered if it had all been there or if Jared had laid it out for him, same trip he put Jensen to bed. He glanced at the mirror, saw a ghost of who he should be and quickly looked away, turning to the shower instead. He felt grimy, gritty, filthy to the point of disgusting. His knees might be shaking but there was no way he was walking out of this bathroom without taking a shower first.
The water ran lukewarm, heat regulator stuck on body heat. His body craved it warmer, but his mind honestly needed it cooler if it was to drive the fog out of his brain. He left it as it was. The shampoo smelled of lavender, the soap of sandalwood. And again he wondered.
His hair felt too long between his fingers, his stubble almost a beard. It made him feel feral. He wondered if Dean’s hair was long and unruly or if he kept it neat, soldier like. Couldn’t remember. Sam had a mop of hair, that much he’d seen, had felt Dean’s longing to push that hair out of Sam’s eyes, to run his fingers through it, to gather it in his fist as he pulled him close for a kiss.
He never did any of those things. Jensen didn’t know if it was because they never had the time, with the world always on the brink of destruction, or if something else was holding them back. After all, he knew they loved each other, fiercely. To an obsessive degree.
“You alright in there?”
The worried voice, muffled by the barrier of the door, pulled Jensen out of his musings. He turned off the water and pushed the shower curtain aside. “I’m fine,” he said, then repeated, a little louder, “I’m good,” and reached for the towel.
“Alright. Need anything from your bag?”
Jensen looked at himself in the mirror, wiping the steam off when all he saw was clouds. Christ, he looked like a grizzly. Shaving wouldn’t be a bad idea. And then brushing his teeth. “Toiletries. In a black bag.”
“Alright.”
Jensen rubbed himself dry, wrapping the towel around his waist just as Jared knocked on the door and then opened it without waiting for permission. He didn’t step in, just held out Jensen’s toiletry bag, gaze respectfully aimed at the ceiling. When Jensen didn’t immediately take it, still wrestling with fastening his towel, Jared glanced down. He went eerily still. His eyes travelled down Jensen’s chest and further, where they seemed to get stuck, lips parting as he breathed in. Just as quickly he shook himself out of his daze, mouth snapping shut.
“Here,” he said, putting the bag on the counter. His face was pink. “Yell if you need anything else.” Then he closed the door with a loud click.
Jensen looked down. The towel was thin, cheap. Used and wet it didn’t really hide much of anything. His face heated. He grabbed the bag, wiping the steam off the mirror again.
When he stepped out of the bathroom - freshly shaved, minty breath - he almost stumbled over Jared’s long legs where he sat in the hallway, waiting. Jared looked up, paused, blinking at Jensen in surprise, then quickly dropped his gaze and stumbled to his feet, letting him pass. Jensen frowned but didn’t ask what that was about.
Back in the bedroom he pulled clean clothes and underwear out of his otherwise untouched bag. He shot Jared a glance, but he had lingered in the hallway, eyes on his own two feet as if they were the most interesting things he’d seen in days. Jensen hesitated a moment before dropping the towel and quickly pulling on clean underwear, jeans, t-shirt. Shook out a grey plaid shirt, a warm flannel to fight the cold already creeping into his bones.
He felt slightly dizzy as he bent down to put on his boots, but it went away soon as he straightened up. Still, Jared wasn’t wrong about him needing to eat something. “We going to the diner?” he said as he pushed himself to his feet.
Jared finally raised his head and pushed away from the wall. He still wouldn’t quite meet Jensen’s eyes. His cheeks were slightly pink. “Unless you were thinking of making something?” he said. “I could run to the store if you want.”
Jensen chuckled. “Not really that domestic but thank you.”
Jared grinned. “Diner it is.”
They made their way slowly down the stairs, Jared first, glancing over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure Jensen was still on his feet and not tumbling towards him. He smiled when Jensen grabbed the keys from the hallway table.
“What?”
“Just… not many people that lock their doors around here unless they’re going away. And even then someone needs to water the plants, feed the cat, all that.”
Jensen looked at the keys in his hand, then shrugged and locked the door behind them. “Not quite there yet,” he said as he shoved the keys into his pocket. He couldn’t really imagine ever leaving his house or car unlocked, didn’t matter where he was. Trusting strangers wasn’t really in his nature.
Which didn’t explain why he had trusted Jared last night, and still did, to the point of stripping bare in his presence. He glanced at Jared who was walking close as if to catch Jensen if he should waver or stumble over his own feet. Maybe it was because he reminded Jensen so much of Sam and he could feel Dean’s unfaltering trust in Sam, rooted in his own psyche. Maybe it was because Jared had been looking after him from the moment he’d arrived, despite him having done nothing to earn that kindness. In fact, Jared had every reason to dislike him but for some reason he had decided he didn’t.
“Uhm, I should warn you,” Jared suddenly said, as if he’d read his thoughts. “We might run into some angry folks. News of your arrival spread quickly.”
Jensen sighed. “Well, at least they weren’t angry enough to kill me in my sleep.”
“They’re not that angry,” Jared said but he didn’t sound overly sure. “Just… annoyed.”
“As long as Daisy still serves me coffee, I can take it.”
Although, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he could. On his best of days, he could stand up to anyone, save perhaps his family, but this wasn’t his best day. It wasn’t his worst either but then again, his worst days included watching Sam being mauled to death by monsters.
Continued here.