What's Dead Should Stay Dead
& the first of my Christmas fic requests - an SPN/MCR cross-over for cadette:
What's Dead Should Stay Dead
Gerard's already been dead seven days when he shows up on Frank's doorstep one afternoon. He's wearing white-framed sunglasses and a dark sweatshirt, with the hood pulled up to cover his face, but it's unmistakably Gerard. Frank's been crying and he's holding wadded-up tissues in his left fist. His eyes are all red and sore, but even so, he's not imagining it and he's not seeing things.
"You're dead," he says softly, as if Gerard somehow missed a crucial memo.
"I know. Can I come in?" Gerard asks, craning his head to one side in the way he does after he's done something wrong. Frank's seen it a lot in the past few months. After Gerard starting drinking again, after his quickie marriage, after he told Frank he didn't want to see him anymore - always that same turn of the head. Frank doesn't even want an apology. He just wants Gerard back again. His Gerard, who cared about things, who cared about him. The Gerard who wasn't found face down in a Mexico City swimming pool after a wild night of partying just a week ago.
Frank steps aside, allowing Gerard into the foyer because he can't think of what else to do. He's got a white afghan draped over his shoulders and he pulls it tighter to his body to keep out the chill. He can't seem to get warm lately. He can't seem to sleep or eat either, so it doesn't worry him too much.
It's the nights that are the worst for him. When he lies awake with the bluish glow of the TV on his face, he's really listening for the sound of Gerard's key in the lock, even though it's been weeks since they've done anything, even though he knows Gerard is gone. Mikey returned Frank's house key to him after the funeral. Gerard still had it on his key-chain.
Frank wants so badly to reach out and hug Gerard that he's practically shaking, but they weren't exactly on the best of terms when Gerard died and there's also that sense of wrongness there, that sense that something here has gone horribly awry.
"Is anyone else here?" Gerard asks, peeking over Frank's shoulder into the living room.
Frank shakes his head. He can't take his eyes off Gerard because he's afraid that if he does, Gerard will be gone again, like a hologram that you can only see in certain slants of light. Frank was at his funeral just four days ago and now he's at home, lying in bed every day in the same sweat-pants wondering what he should do with his life. He tries to remember the last time he ate, but he can't. He wonders if he's hallucinating. Maybe the grief and not-eating and the staying awake at all hours, maybe it's finally taken it's toll on him.
He looks at the calendar over Gerard's shoulder and realizes it's the day after Christmas. Which explains why Mikey came by yesterday and sat with him for an hour at the kitchen table, rubbing his back awkwardly when he cried. Mikey made him pancakes in the skillet, which made Frank cry even harder, because there had been a time when Gerard had made him pancakes in that skillet after he had spent the night.
Gerard goes straight for Frankie's room, knocking the pile of tissues off the bed, before crawling under the covers. Speechless, Frankie sits in a chair in the corner and stares at Gerard lying in his bed. "Are you a ghost?" he asks, after it becomes obvious Gerard isn't going to say anything.
Gerard's laugh is muffled by the blanket. It's a laugh Frank hadn't expected to hear again. "No."
"But you're...dead?" Frank asks, keeping his eyes trained on the lump beneath his blankets.
"I didn't know where else to go," Gerard says, turning so that he faces Frank. He looks paler than usual and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't eaten or showered in days.
Frank nods solemnly, then bites his lip, looking up from under his greasy bangs. "Would it be all right if I touched you? Just to make sure-"
Gerard pauses for a moment, considering, before he peels the blanket back. "Yeah. I guess that would be okay."
Frank's hands tremble as he moves them up Gerard's back, under his shirt. Gerard's skin feels cold, but otherwise the same. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat that lets Frank know he's enjoying it. Frank's moving onto Gerard's chest, when Gerard grabs his wrist hard, halting it's progress. "That's enough." Frank blushes, rubbing at his sore wrist.
"I'm sorry," Gerard apologizes, realizing he's snapped. "This isn't...easy for me...being around you."
"You think it's easy for me?" Frank snorts. "You were dead a week ago. And long before that you were..."
"I know. You don't have to tell me I was an asshole. I know, okay?"
"What's going on with you? Is it drugs or...?"
Gerard shakes his head. "I'm sick, Frank."
"Sick how? I don't understand how you're even alive."
Again, Gerard shakes his head sadly. "I'm not, Frankie. Not anymore."
"I don't understand," Frank sniffles, feeling on the verge of tears again. It's been too long since Gerard let him into his life and now that he's here, he's just pushing him out again.
"I have this thing inside me...this...this virus...and it makes me do bad things, Frank. And I'm sorry to bring you into this. It's my own fault for hanging out with those people and for not listening to you-"
"What does it make you do?" Frank asks in a small voice, like he's afraid of the answer.
Gerard's eyes blur with tears. "It makes me hurt people. I don't want to, but it's like...I can't help it."
"Will you hurt me?"
"I would kill myself before I ever hurt you."
"Same here," Frank says, laying his head on Gerard's chest.
They're both silent for a second, before Gerard finally speaks. "I need a favor, Frankie."
"Anything," Frank says eagerly. And he means it.
"Tonight, when it gets dark, I want you to tie me to the bed. And I mean...make it really tight, so I can't get out."
"Kinky and totally not what I was expecting, but okay," Frank laughs.
"I'm serious." There's a hard edge to Gerard's voice that makes Frank's smile fade.
"Is that it?"
"No. I want you to sleep in another room. Any room, it doesn't matter. You need to lock me in here and go somewhere else until the morning."
"You're talking like a crazy person."
Gerard's eyes flare wildly. "Maybe I am crazy. But you have to do this for me. Promise?"
"Gee, I'm not sure how-"
"Promise me."
"Okay. I promise."
***
Frank spends all night on the Internet, researching. Sometimes he thinks he hears Gerard in the other room, fighting against his restraints, but he doesn't dare check on him. He's not scared; he knows Gerard would never hurt him, but he's never broken a promise to Gerard and he's not going to start now.
In the morning, Frank makes himself a bacon and egg breakfast and then tiptoes in to check on Gerard. Gerard looks even worse than the previous day. His features are sunken and his skin is as white as a sheet of Xerox paper.
"You need to eat," Frank says, standing over the bed.
Gerard glimpses the Steak knife Frank is carrying in one hand and rolls his head away. "No."
"You'll get sick if you don't."
"I'm already sick," Gerard snaps. His head is throbbing and even the small, imperceptible shifts of the light through the shade seem to pierce right to his center.
"You won't die, you know, if that's what you were hoping for. But you will be in a hell of a lot of pain. And any hunger you feel now, it'll be worse, much worse. There's no telling what you'll do or who you'll hurt."
Gerard doesn't say anything as Frankie drags the blade over his wrist. He keeps his lips pursed in a thin line, his jaw set, as if he's fighting the urge to open his mouth. The cut is clean and efficient and Frank moves it to Gerard's mouth quickly so he doesn't spill any on the sheets.
Gerard laps at Frank's blood meekly at first, like a kitten lapping up a bowl of milk, but then he's sucking hard and Frank is starting to get light-headed. He blushes when he realizes Gerard's erection is tenting out the front of the sweats Frank let him borrow. He wonders how all that works. He's heard that feeding can be highly erotic - like sex or being high, but he doesn't know if that replaces the desire for actual sex or it's only an added perk.
Frank's read about everything he could get his hands on, so he knows all about young vampires, about how hungry they are, about how little control they have, and so he decides that he'll have to be the one to control it. He pulls his wrist away and Gerard jerks against his restraints, his eyes wild. A little blood dribbles down the side of his mouth and Frank leans down and licks up his own blood. It tastes salty and slightly coppery. Some color has returned to Gerard's face - his cheeks are flushed and his eyes no longer look sunken.
"I'll be back," Frank promises, cradling his injured hand.
There's some New-skin in the cabinet over the sink in the bathroom and Frank puts it on his wrist, forming a seal between his cut and the open air. When he comes back, Gerard's still in the same position on the bed, but he has his eyes closed. Frank's pretty sure he's not sleeping, pretty sure that Gerard doesn't need sleep now, but he coughs anyway. "Gee, you awake?"
Gerard's eyes snap open and Frank nearly trips on himself in fright. "You didn't have to do that," Gerard says.
"I know. I wanted to."
"Will you untie me now? I promise I won't hurt you."
"Mmm...not yet," Frank says deviously, undoing the drawstring on Gerard's sweats. "Does it still work the same?" he asks, licking a path up Gerard's erection. Gerard lets out a low groan and Frank laughs tenderly.
"Guess so."
Gerard lifts his head, watching Frank's head moving between his legs. "Why are you being so nice to me? I was a total dick to-"
"Because I don't want to lose you again. Now shut up and enjoy it before I change my mind."
Gerard's cock is as cold as a Popsicle, but he still seems to enjoy what's happening to him and after a few minutes he warns Frank that he's close. When Frank continues, Gerard manages to pull one wrist free and push Frank's face away hard before he cums.
Frank cups his cheek where Gerard pushed him, looking shocked. Gerard is stronger than before. Frank knows he didn't mean to hurt him, but he also doesn't have as much control over his body as he used to.
"Sorry," Gerard quickly apologizes. "I, uh, know that you can get it from blood, but I haven't...I don't know if that goes for other fluids too."
Frank laughs, undoing the restraint on Gerard's other wrist before snuggling down into Gerard's armpit. Gerard strokes his hair gently. "I'd return the favor, but I don't trust myself-"
"To not bite my dick off?" Frank finishes.
"You're such a romantic," Gerard says sarcastically. But Frank can feel the skin on Gerard's face tightening against his cheek so that he knows he's smiling. They both lay there for a while together, not saying anything. Frank is just so happy to have Gerard back, even it's like this, and Gerard is just so happy to be safe and cared for after a week on the road, hiding out in dark alleys and bus stations.
"What do you think you'll do?" Frank asks, after a reasonable bout of silence. He's tracing a circle around Gerard's belly-button and Gerard is resting his head against Frank's shoulder.
"I don't know."
"I could change for you," Frank says softly, because he knows they've both been thinking it.
"No. I would never ask you that."
"You wouldn't have to ask. I'm offering."
"And I'm saying no. I could never do that to you."
"I don't want to have to live without you."
"And I want you to live, so I guess we'll just agree to disagree." Frankie frowns, laying his head back on Gerard's chest. There's no heart-beat anymore - only silence.
***
Frank finds the number in the Yellow Pages of all places, under the heading "Paranormal Investigators". He's desperate at this point and figures that anything is worth a try. He's not sure how many more days he can take of Gerard feeding on him. There's only so much blood in his body he has to give and he nearly passed out in the shower that morning when he was reaching for his shampoo.
A voice answers after four rings. "Dean Winchester at your service. Demon Hunter, Bad Guy Killer, All-Around Hero. How can I help you?"
The introduction throws Frank off a little. "Uh, I'm not sure I have the right number."
"Maybe if you explained your problem to me we can find that out."
Frank takes a deep breath. "Well, my boyfriend...well, maybe not boyfriend, my friend who's a boy...who, I guess technically is married...although, if you factor in that whole "'til death do us part" bit...maybe not."
"It sounds like you have relationship problems, not paranormal ones," Dean smirks.
"No, I...He's changed. And I need like...a potion or an antidote or something."
"Changed into what?"
"I feel stupid saying this over the phone. Do you think you can just come over here and take a look at him?"
"Can you at least give me a hint so I know what sort of weapons to bring?"
"Weapons? Uh, well...he likes to drink blood, so..."
"Ah, a vampire. Where are you?"
"New Jersey."
"And the vampire, er, boyfriend?"
"Same."
"Okay. Can you give me two days? We're just finishing up a job in New England."
Frank blanches, looking down at the still-not healed wounds on his arms. "I-I'm not sure I'll last that long."
"Oh. Well, tomorrow then."
"Perfect." Frank hangs up the phone and Gerard is standing behind him with his hands on his hips.
"Who was that?"
"No one," Frank says defensively. "Are you hungry?" he asks, hoping to God Gerard's not because his arm is throbbing something fierce.
"No," Gerard lies. "But how 'bout I make you some pancakes?"
***
Mikey stops by the next morning with a casserole of questionable origin for Frank and is surprised to find Frank showered and dressed and the house clean. They hug and Frank tries to keep his eyes from drifting to the closet, where Gerard was hiding.
"You look a lot better, man."
"You too. How's your mom?"
Mikey shakes his head and Frank wonders if Gerard is listening to their conversation. "It'll get better," Frank says softly. He feels bad because he has Gerard, so there's nothing for him to get over. He wants to tell Mikey, but he promised Gerard he wouldn't.
There a kitten in Mikey's coat pocket and he sets it and a bag with some litter and a food down in the kitchen. "I thought you might want some company," he says and Frank picks up the kitten and snuggles it to his chest. He's never had a pet, although he's always wanted one. But his parents were strict and then, when he was on the road with the band, he was never at home to care for one.
It's incredibly thoughtful of him and incredibly un-Mikey of him too and when Frank thinks of him riding over here with a kitten in his coat pocket, he's nearly slayed with how adorable it all is. "Thanks. He's really cute."
"He's called Bandito," Mikey explains. They both stand awkwardly in the kitchen for a moment while Frank holds the kitten and Mikey watches him and then Mikey decides to leave. But not before the sleeve of Frank's cardigan rides up just long enough for Mikey to see the bandages covering his wrists.
"It's not what you think," Frank says quickly, pulling his sleeves down over his hands.
Mikey shakes his head. "I won't ask. Listen, I know you loved him, man. We all did. But I couldn't stand losing another brother, so just...take care of yourself," he says, lingering in the doorway of the kitchen.
Frank's eyes water at Mikey's use of the term 'brother'. He and Mikey have never been particularly close, but it's times like these that make you realize just what's important. "I will."
"And get out of the house for Chris-sakes. It's like a fucking coffin with all these shades drawn," Mikey adds before he makes his way out.
***
Dean shows up the next day as promised. Gerard is in the middle of vacuuming the living room when he arrives. Since he doesn't sleep, Gerard's become bored and cagey, trying to find ways to fill the hours of his days and nights. He knows Frank has enough on his mind, so he's been trying to make it easier on him by doing the dishes and straightening up around the house.
Gerard pulls the plug on the vacuum and retreats to the bedroom. He's not supposed to answer the door when anyone comes over. It would be hard to explain just how and why Frank's undead friend is wielding a vacuum cleaner just a week after his own funeral.
Frank answers the door wearing an apron, a spot of flour near his nose. He's been baking cookies all day, even though Gerard can't eat them. He always cooks when he's in a good mood and today, for the first time since Gerard's death, he feels sort of hopeful.
"You must be Dean Winchester."
"You've got it. And this is my brother, Sammy," Dean nods to the taller brunette standing behind him on the stoop.
"Sam," Sam corrects, giving Frank a shy smile.
"Come on in. I made some cookies if you want..."
Dean, not one to turn down food, brightens. "That'd be awesome."
Sam shoots Dean a meaningful look and Dean frowns. "Er, maybe later then. Is he here?"
"He's in the bedroom."
Gerard's sitting on the bed when they come in and the dead kitten is on the floor by his feet. "I'm so sorry, Frank," he says softly, not looking up. Frank wraps the kitten's body in his apron and sits down on the mattress next to Gerard.
"It's okay. I'm not mad."
There are tears in Gerard's eyes when he looks up at Frank and Frank's heart lurches in his chest. "I don't want it to be like this," Gerard says, his voice cracking with emotion.
Frank pats Gerard's thigh. "I know. I brought some people that might be able to help you." Gerard looks up, realizing that there are other people in the room with them for the first time.
Dean gives a little wave. "Hey. Dean. This is Sam."
"Hey. Uh, Gerard."
"Do you think we could get a second alone?" Dean asks and Frank gets up to leave.
"I'll be right outside," he assures Gerard, before closing the door. A moment later, Sam joins him in the hall and Frank raises an eyebrow at him. He's holding the dead cat wrapped in the apron under one arm.
"I'll have one of those cookies if you're still offering," he says.
***
"When did it happen?" Dean asks, sitting down on the bed next to Gerard. Gerard wonders if all Paranormal Investigators are this cute.
"A week ago."
"Who turned you?"
"A friend...or...I thought they were a friend. My wife."
"Tough break."
"Yeah." Gerard stares down at his hands, marveling at how pale they are.
Dean picks at a thread on his jeans, wondering why it's so difficult for him to break the news to someone he's never met. And moreover, someone who's not even...human. "There's not...there's no cure."
"I figured," Gerard nods. They both stare at the carpet for a moment, content to be in silence. "Let me ask you something. If your brother were sick and you knew there was no chance of him getting better, could you kill him?"
Dean didn't have to think about it. He'd faced the same choice before and he couldn't. Not if there was a way to save Sam first. And he had to admit, maybe even if he was beyond saving. "No."
"I don't want Frank to see me like this, but I don't know if I'm ready to let him go. To let...life go."
Dean turns over the revolver he's holding in his hands before handing it to Gerard. "It's the quickest way. One bullet from this-"
"And I'm gone for good?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know...I mean, I know you investigate this stuff...do you know what happens after? I wasn't a bad person before this. I made mistakes like everyone but...I've killed someone and I-"
"I don't know. I've got a one way ticket booked to hell myself and I still don't know. I wish I could tell you, man."
"What would you do?"
"Honestly?" Dean's eyes move to the door, where Sam and Frank were standing only moments before. "I'd take the bullet."
***
That night, Gerard sleeps with the Colt under his pillow. It's comforting, like the way an Astronaut carries a Cyanide pill into space, just in case there's trouble. Break in case of Emergency. Frankie's sleeping on the floor next to the bed tonight. He promised he'd stay out of the room, but he crept in when he thought Gerard was asleep. Gerard doesn't sleep now, but he remembers that Frank hates to sleep alone. He realizes he's not much good to Frank this way. Not when he's always having to restrain himself, not when he's constantly afraid that he's going to hurt the one person he loves the most.
Frank smells different to Gerard now. He can smell his blood even from here and it smells like food, like sustenance. The part of him that wants Frank for sex and love and the part that wants him for food are all mixed up now and he can't pick those impulses apart. And not only that, but when he looks at the future, he can't see much further than his next meal. Frankie will grow old and Gerard will stay like this and eventually, he will have to watch Frank die. It's only a matter of time.
Gerard loosens his restraints and finds Frank's cell and takes it into the kitchen. Dean answers the phone groggily, like he's been sleeping. Gerard doesn't apologize. "Can you do it for me?"
"What? Who is this?"
"It's Gerard. Can you do it for me? Can you shoot me and make sure the body's taken care of?"
"If you're sure that's what you want."
"I'm sure. Can you come now?" Dean looks over at Sam's bed, where he's still fast asleep. His face is pale in the moonlight and for once, he doesn't seem to be troubled by nightmares. Dean doesn't have to wonder what he'd do in the same situation.
"I'll be there. Wait out front." Dean pulls his jeans on. They're still cold from being in his suitcase. The drive is quiet and he can't help but feel like the cold, creeping cloud of death is following him tonight. Gerard is sitting on Frank's steps with the Colt balanced on his knees.
"Did you say goodbye?" Dean asks when he sits down in the Impala's passenger seat.
Gerard shakes his head as he sets the Colt on the seat between them, a strange, sad smile on his face. "Dead men can't talk."
What's Dead Should Stay Dead
Gerard's already been dead seven days when he shows up on Frank's doorstep one afternoon. He's wearing white-framed sunglasses and a dark sweatshirt, with the hood pulled up to cover his face, but it's unmistakably Gerard. Frank's been crying and he's holding wadded-up tissues in his left fist. His eyes are all red and sore, but even so, he's not imagining it and he's not seeing things.
"You're dead," he says softly, as if Gerard somehow missed a crucial memo.
"I know. Can I come in?" Gerard asks, craning his head to one side in the way he does after he's done something wrong. Frank's seen it a lot in the past few months. After Gerard starting drinking again, after his quickie marriage, after he told Frank he didn't want to see him anymore - always that same turn of the head. Frank doesn't even want an apology. He just wants Gerard back again. His Gerard, who cared about things, who cared about him. The Gerard who wasn't found face down in a Mexico City swimming pool after a wild night of partying just a week ago.
Frank steps aside, allowing Gerard into the foyer because he can't think of what else to do. He's got a white afghan draped over his shoulders and he pulls it tighter to his body to keep out the chill. He can't seem to get warm lately. He can't seem to sleep or eat either, so it doesn't worry him too much.
It's the nights that are the worst for him. When he lies awake with the bluish glow of the TV on his face, he's really listening for the sound of Gerard's key in the lock, even though it's been weeks since they've done anything, even though he knows Gerard is gone. Mikey returned Frank's house key to him after the funeral. Gerard still had it on his key-chain.
Frank wants so badly to reach out and hug Gerard that he's practically shaking, but they weren't exactly on the best of terms when Gerard died and there's also that sense of wrongness there, that sense that something here has gone horribly awry.
"Is anyone else here?" Gerard asks, peeking over Frank's shoulder into the living room.
Frank shakes his head. He can't take his eyes off Gerard because he's afraid that if he does, Gerard will be gone again, like a hologram that you can only see in certain slants of light. Frank was at his funeral just four days ago and now he's at home, lying in bed every day in the same sweat-pants wondering what he should do with his life. He tries to remember the last time he ate, but he can't. He wonders if he's hallucinating. Maybe the grief and not-eating and the staying awake at all hours, maybe it's finally taken it's toll on him.
He looks at the calendar over Gerard's shoulder and realizes it's the day after Christmas. Which explains why Mikey came by yesterday and sat with him for an hour at the kitchen table, rubbing his back awkwardly when he cried. Mikey made him pancakes in the skillet, which made Frank cry even harder, because there had been a time when Gerard had made him pancakes in that skillet after he had spent the night.
Gerard goes straight for Frankie's room, knocking the pile of tissues off the bed, before crawling under the covers. Speechless, Frankie sits in a chair in the corner and stares at Gerard lying in his bed. "Are you a ghost?" he asks, after it becomes obvious Gerard isn't going to say anything.
Gerard's laugh is muffled by the blanket. It's a laugh Frank hadn't expected to hear again. "No."
"But you're...dead?" Frank asks, keeping his eyes trained on the lump beneath his blankets.
"I didn't know where else to go," Gerard says, turning so that he faces Frank. He looks paler than usual and there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't eaten or showered in days.
Frank nods solemnly, then bites his lip, looking up from under his greasy bangs. "Would it be all right if I touched you? Just to make sure-"
Gerard pauses for a moment, considering, before he peels the blanket back. "Yeah. I guess that would be okay."
Frank's hands tremble as he moves them up Gerard's back, under his shirt. Gerard's skin feels cold, but otherwise the same. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat that lets Frank know he's enjoying it. Frank's moving onto Gerard's chest, when Gerard grabs his wrist hard, halting it's progress. "That's enough." Frank blushes, rubbing at his sore wrist.
"I'm sorry," Gerard apologizes, realizing he's snapped. "This isn't...easy for me...being around you."
"You think it's easy for me?" Frank snorts. "You were dead a week ago. And long before that you were..."
"I know. You don't have to tell me I was an asshole. I know, okay?"
"What's going on with you? Is it drugs or...?"
Gerard shakes his head. "I'm sick, Frank."
"Sick how? I don't understand how you're even alive."
Again, Gerard shakes his head sadly. "I'm not, Frankie. Not anymore."
"I don't understand," Frank sniffles, feeling on the verge of tears again. It's been too long since Gerard let him into his life and now that he's here, he's just pushing him out again.
"I have this thing inside me...this...this virus...and it makes me do bad things, Frank. And I'm sorry to bring you into this. It's my own fault for hanging out with those people and for not listening to you-"
"What does it make you do?" Frank asks in a small voice, like he's afraid of the answer.
Gerard's eyes blur with tears. "It makes me hurt people. I don't want to, but it's like...I can't help it."
"Will you hurt me?"
"I would kill myself before I ever hurt you."
"Same here," Frank says, laying his head on Gerard's chest.
They're both silent for a second, before Gerard finally speaks. "I need a favor, Frankie."
"Anything," Frank says eagerly. And he means it.
"Tonight, when it gets dark, I want you to tie me to the bed. And I mean...make it really tight, so I can't get out."
"Kinky and totally not what I was expecting, but okay," Frank laughs.
"I'm serious." There's a hard edge to Gerard's voice that makes Frank's smile fade.
"Is that it?"
"No. I want you to sleep in another room. Any room, it doesn't matter. You need to lock me in here and go somewhere else until the morning."
"You're talking like a crazy person."
Gerard's eyes flare wildly. "Maybe I am crazy. But you have to do this for me. Promise?"
"Gee, I'm not sure how-"
"Promise me."
"Okay. I promise."
***
Frank spends all night on the Internet, researching. Sometimes he thinks he hears Gerard in the other room, fighting against his restraints, but he doesn't dare check on him. He's not scared; he knows Gerard would never hurt him, but he's never broken a promise to Gerard and he's not going to start now.
In the morning, Frank makes himself a bacon and egg breakfast and then tiptoes in to check on Gerard. Gerard looks even worse than the previous day. His features are sunken and his skin is as white as a sheet of Xerox paper.
"You need to eat," Frank says, standing over the bed.
Gerard glimpses the Steak knife Frank is carrying in one hand and rolls his head away. "No."
"You'll get sick if you don't."
"I'm already sick," Gerard snaps. His head is throbbing and even the small, imperceptible shifts of the light through the shade seem to pierce right to his center.
"You won't die, you know, if that's what you were hoping for. But you will be in a hell of a lot of pain. And any hunger you feel now, it'll be worse, much worse. There's no telling what you'll do or who you'll hurt."
Gerard doesn't say anything as Frankie drags the blade over his wrist. He keeps his lips pursed in a thin line, his jaw set, as if he's fighting the urge to open his mouth. The cut is clean and efficient and Frank moves it to Gerard's mouth quickly so he doesn't spill any on the sheets.
Gerard laps at Frank's blood meekly at first, like a kitten lapping up a bowl of milk, but then he's sucking hard and Frank is starting to get light-headed. He blushes when he realizes Gerard's erection is tenting out the front of the sweats Frank let him borrow. He wonders how all that works. He's heard that feeding can be highly erotic - like sex or being high, but he doesn't know if that replaces the desire for actual sex or it's only an added perk.
Frank's read about everything he could get his hands on, so he knows all about young vampires, about how hungry they are, about how little control they have, and so he decides that he'll have to be the one to control it. He pulls his wrist away and Gerard jerks against his restraints, his eyes wild. A little blood dribbles down the side of his mouth and Frank leans down and licks up his own blood. It tastes salty and slightly coppery. Some color has returned to Gerard's face - his cheeks are flushed and his eyes no longer look sunken.
"I'll be back," Frank promises, cradling his injured hand.
There's some New-skin in the cabinet over the sink in the bathroom and Frank puts it on his wrist, forming a seal between his cut and the open air. When he comes back, Gerard's still in the same position on the bed, but he has his eyes closed. Frank's pretty sure he's not sleeping, pretty sure that Gerard doesn't need sleep now, but he coughs anyway. "Gee, you awake?"
Gerard's eyes snap open and Frank nearly trips on himself in fright. "You didn't have to do that," Gerard says.
"I know. I wanted to."
"Will you untie me now? I promise I won't hurt you."
"Mmm...not yet," Frank says deviously, undoing the drawstring on Gerard's sweats. "Does it still work the same?" he asks, licking a path up Gerard's erection. Gerard lets out a low groan and Frank laughs tenderly.
"Guess so."
Gerard lifts his head, watching Frank's head moving between his legs. "Why are you being so nice to me? I was a total dick to-"
"Because I don't want to lose you again. Now shut up and enjoy it before I change my mind."
Gerard's cock is as cold as a Popsicle, but he still seems to enjoy what's happening to him and after a few minutes he warns Frank that he's close. When Frank continues, Gerard manages to pull one wrist free and push Frank's face away hard before he cums.
Frank cups his cheek where Gerard pushed him, looking shocked. Gerard is stronger than before. Frank knows he didn't mean to hurt him, but he also doesn't have as much control over his body as he used to.
"Sorry," Gerard quickly apologizes. "I, uh, know that you can get it from blood, but I haven't...I don't know if that goes for other fluids too."
Frank laughs, undoing the restraint on Gerard's other wrist before snuggling down into Gerard's armpit. Gerard strokes his hair gently. "I'd return the favor, but I don't trust myself-"
"To not bite my dick off?" Frank finishes.
"You're such a romantic," Gerard says sarcastically. But Frank can feel the skin on Gerard's face tightening against his cheek so that he knows he's smiling. They both lay there for a while together, not saying anything. Frank is just so happy to have Gerard back, even it's like this, and Gerard is just so happy to be safe and cared for after a week on the road, hiding out in dark alleys and bus stations.
"What do you think you'll do?" Frank asks, after a reasonable bout of silence. He's tracing a circle around Gerard's belly-button and Gerard is resting his head against Frank's shoulder.
"I don't know."
"I could change for you," Frank says softly, because he knows they've both been thinking it.
"No. I would never ask you that."
"You wouldn't have to ask. I'm offering."
"And I'm saying no. I could never do that to you."
"I don't want to have to live without you."
"And I want you to live, so I guess we'll just agree to disagree." Frankie frowns, laying his head back on Gerard's chest. There's no heart-beat anymore - only silence.
***
Frank finds the number in the Yellow Pages of all places, under the heading "Paranormal Investigators". He's desperate at this point and figures that anything is worth a try. He's not sure how many more days he can take of Gerard feeding on him. There's only so much blood in his body he has to give and he nearly passed out in the shower that morning when he was reaching for his shampoo.
A voice answers after four rings. "Dean Winchester at your service. Demon Hunter, Bad Guy Killer, All-Around Hero. How can I help you?"
The introduction throws Frank off a little. "Uh, I'm not sure I have the right number."
"Maybe if you explained your problem to me we can find that out."
Frank takes a deep breath. "Well, my boyfriend...well, maybe not boyfriend, my friend who's a boy...who, I guess technically is married...although, if you factor in that whole "'til death do us part" bit...maybe not."
"It sounds like you have relationship problems, not paranormal ones," Dean smirks.
"No, I...He's changed. And I need like...a potion or an antidote or something."
"Changed into what?"
"I feel stupid saying this over the phone. Do you think you can just come over here and take a look at him?"
"Can you at least give me a hint so I know what sort of weapons to bring?"
"Weapons? Uh, well...he likes to drink blood, so..."
"Ah, a vampire. Where are you?"
"New Jersey."
"And the vampire, er, boyfriend?"
"Same."
"Okay. Can you give me two days? We're just finishing up a job in New England."
Frank blanches, looking down at the still-not healed wounds on his arms. "I-I'm not sure I'll last that long."
"Oh. Well, tomorrow then."
"Perfect." Frank hangs up the phone and Gerard is standing behind him with his hands on his hips.
"Who was that?"
"No one," Frank says defensively. "Are you hungry?" he asks, hoping to God Gerard's not because his arm is throbbing something fierce.
"No," Gerard lies. "But how 'bout I make you some pancakes?"
***
Mikey stops by the next morning with a casserole of questionable origin for Frank and is surprised to find Frank showered and dressed and the house clean. They hug and Frank tries to keep his eyes from drifting to the closet, where Gerard was hiding.
"You look a lot better, man."
"You too. How's your mom?"
Mikey shakes his head and Frank wonders if Gerard is listening to their conversation. "It'll get better," Frank says softly. He feels bad because he has Gerard, so there's nothing for him to get over. He wants to tell Mikey, but he promised Gerard he wouldn't.
There a kitten in Mikey's coat pocket and he sets it and a bag with some litter and a food down in the kitchen. "I thought you might want some company," he says and Frank picks up the kitten and snuggles it to his chest. He's never had a pet, although he's always wanted one. But his parents were strict and then, when he was on the road with the band, he was never at home to care for one.
It's incredibly thoughtful of him and incredibly un-Mikey of him too and when Frank thinks of him riding over here with a kitten in his coat pocket, he's nearly slayed with how adorable it all is. "Thanks. He's really cute."
"He's called Bandito," Mikey explains. They both stand awkwardly in the kitchen for a moment while Frank holds the kitten and Mikey watches him and then Mikey decides to leave. But not before the sleeve of Frank's cardigan rides up just long enough for Mikey to see the bandages covering his wrists.
"It's not what you think," Frank says quickly, pulling his sleeves down over his hands.
Mikey shakes his head. "I won't ask. Listen, I know you loved him, man. We all did. But I couldn't stand losing another brother, so just...take care of yourself," he says, lingering in the doorway of the kitchen.
Frank's eyes water at Mikey's use of the term 'brother'. He and Mikey have never been particularly close, but it's times like these that make you realize just what's important. "I will."
"And get out of the house for Chris-sakes. It's like a fucking coffin with all these shades drawn," Mikey adds before he makes his way out.
***
Dean shows up the next day as promised. Gerard is in the middle of vacuuming the living room when he arrives. Since he doesn't sleep, Gerard's become bored and cagey, trying to find ways to fill the hours of his days and nights. He knows Frank has enough on his mind, so he's been trying to make it easier on him by doing the dishes and straightening up around the house.
Gerard pulls the plug on the vacuum and retreats to the bedroom. He's not supposed to answer the door when anyone comes over. It would be hard to explain just how and why Frank's undead friend is wielding a vacuum cleaner just a week after his own funeral.
Frank answers the door wearing an apron, a spot of flour near his nose. He's been baking cookies all day, even though Gerard can't eat them. He always cooks when he's in a good mood and today, for the first time since Gerard's death, he feels sort of hopeful.
"You must be Dean Winchester."
"You've got it. And this is my brother, Sammy," Dean nods to the taller brunette standing behind him on the stoop.
"Sam," Sam corrects, giving Frank a shy smile.
"Come on in. I made some cookies if you want..."
Dean, not one to turn down food, brightens. "That'd be awesome."
Sam shoots Dean a meaningful look and Dean frowns. "Er, maybe later then. Is he here?"
"He's in the bedroom."
Gerard's sitting on the bed when they come in and the dead kitten is on the floor by his feet. "I'm so sorry, Frank," he says softly, not looking up. Frank wraps the kitten's body in his apron and sits down on the mattress next to Gerard.
"It's okay. I'm not mad."
There are tears in Gerard's eyes when he looks up at Frank and Frank's heart lurches in his chest. "I don't want it to be like this," Gerard says, his voice cracking with emotion.
Frank pats Gerard's thigh. "I know. I brought some people that might be able to help you." Gerard looks up, realizing that there are other people in the room with them for the first time.
Dean gives a little wave. "Hey. Dean. This is Sam."
"Hey. Uh, Gerard."
"Do you think we could get a second alone?" Dean asks and Frank gets up to leave.
"I'll be right outside," he assures Gerard, before closing the door. A moment later, Sam joins him in the hall and Frank raises an eyebrow at him. He's holding the dead cat wrapped in the apron under one arm.
"I'll have one of those cookies if you're still offering," he says.
***
"When did it happen?" Dean asks, sitting down on the bed next to Gerard. Gerard wonders if all Paranormal Investigators are this cute.
"A week ago."
"Who turned you?"
"A friend...or...I thought they were a friend. My wife."
"Tough break."
"Yeah." Gerard stares down at his hands, marveling at how pale they are.
Dean picks at a thread on his jeans, wondering why it's so difficult for him to break the news to someone he's never met. And moreover, someone who's not even...human. "There's not...there's no cure."
"I figured," Gerard nods. They both stare at the carpet for a moment, content to be in silence. "Let me ask you something. If your brother were sick and you knew there was no chance of him getting better, could you kill him?"
Dean didn't have to think about it. He'd faced the same choice before and he couldn't. Not if there was a way to save Sam first. And he had to admit, maybe even if he was beyond saving. "No."
"I don't want Frank to see me like this, but I don't know if I'm ready to let him go. To let...life go."
Dean turns over the revolver he's holding in his hands before handing it to Gerard. "It's the quickest way. One bullet from this-"
"And I'm gone for good?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know...I mean, I know you investigate this stuff...do you know what happens after? I wasn't a bad person before this. I made mistakes like everyone but...I've killed someone and I-"
"I don't know. I've got a one way ticket booked to hell myself and I still don't know. I wish I could tell you, man."
"What would you do?"
"Honestly?" Dean's eyes move to the door, where Sam and Frank were standing only moments before. "I'd take the bullet."
***
That night, Gerard sleeps with the Colt under his pillow. It's comforting, like the way an Astronaut carries a Cyanide pill into space, just in case there's trouble. Break in case of Emergency. Frankie's sleeping on the floor next to the bed tonight. He promised he'd stay out of the room, but he crept in when he thought Gerard was asleep. Gerard doesn't sleep now, but he remembers that Frank hates to sleep alone. He realizes he's not much good to Frank this way. Not when he's always having to restrain himself, not when he's constantly afraid that he's going to hurt the one person he loves the most.
Frank smells different to Gerard now. He can smell his blood even from here and it smells like food, like sustenance. The part of him that wants Frank for sex and love and the part that wants him for food are all mixed up now and he can't pick those impulses apart. And not only that, but when he looks at the future, he can't see much further than his next meal. Frankie will grow old and Gerard will stay like this and eventually, he will have to watch Frank die. It's only a matter of time.
Gerard loosens his restraints and finds Frank's cell and takes it into the kitchen. Dean answers the phone groggily, like he's been sleeping. Gerard doesn't apologize. "Can you do it for me?"
"What? Who is this?"
"It's Gerard. Can you do it for me? Can you shoot me and make sure the body's taken care of?"
"If you're sure that's what you want."
"I'm sure. Can you come now?" Dean looks over at Sam's bed, where he's still fast asleep. His face is pale in the moonlight and for once, he doesn't seem to be troubled by nightmares. Dean doesn't have to wonder what he'd do in the same situation.
"I'll be there. Wait out front." Dean pulls his jeans on. They're still cold from being in his suitcase. The drive is quiet and he can't help but feel like the cold, creeping cloud of death is following him tonight. Gerard is sitting on Frank's steps with the Colt balanced on his knees.
"Did you say goodbye?" Dean asks when he sits down in the Impala's passenger seat.
Gerard shakes his head as he sets the Colt on the seat between them, a strange, sad smile on his face. "Dead men can't talk."