Breathing Red
Breathing Red
He stares at the other man and he knows through the haze of blood that surrounds his vision, if Sam weren’t there he’d have the other hunter against the wall in seconds. He doesn’t like others getting involved in his hunts, but he’s willing to make exceptions for tough cases. The guy in front of him is arrogance walking but it’s something Dean knows well. Hell, he is that guy most days.
Sam looks at them both like they’re crazy and all the way to the bar he’s bitching about it. He doesn’t want to be there and Dean wishes like hell he’d just let Sam stay in the motel tonight like he’d wanted. Dean was in the mood to celebrate though and he wanted Sam to be a part of that. Sometimes Sam was more work than he was worth though and the rest of the night was no better than it’s beginning.
It’s not until after he nails Sam that he realizes he’s just letting off steam and blowing up at the wrong person. He knows what he really wants to do, what he needs to do, and Sam is just getting in the way of that. He’ll have to apologize for it later, have some emo talk about whatever it is that’s going through Sam’s head, but for now, he lets him go and walks back to the bar.
Gordon Walker is waiting for him, a fresh beer in one hand and a pool cue in the other. His smile is dark and it matches his eyes. When Dean looks at Gordon he sees someone as dangerous as he is. He sees someone who is willing to do the same things he is. The difference is that there is no regret in Gordon and that’s a feat Dean has yet to manage. For most hunts it’s kill or be killed but there are times when he hates this life and what it’s cost him. There are times when he hates his father for what he did to him. There are times when he hates himself for what he’s pulled Sam back into. Its nights like tonight where he needs to bury that rage and hate into something that can handle it.
They drink pretty hard and play pool with no holds barred, not trying to hustle but just to win. Gordon is pretty good, but he didn’t grow up hustling like Dean did. It’s not just a practice it’s a way of life and while most hunters have learned to adapt to their surroundings quickly, Dean is a chameleon the likes of which the hunting world has never seen before.
When the night is winding down they stumble out and Dean follows Gordon to his motel without being asked. When he rests the back of his head on the wall as Gordon grabs for his keys, the other man gives him a brief look as if assessing what might happen next. Dean isn’t sure if he’s anxious or anticipating but he doesn’t care right now. He needs this tonight.
Dean strolls in and takes a look at the multitude of clippings and the strange organization the man has. They all do it differently. Only he, Sam, and Dad ever used the same system and that was just because their Dad trained them to. Even now, without their Dad, they manage to improve on it little by little; Sam using some of his genius-level brain power to shift things slightly to a better perspective and Dean with his hunter’s eye that gives him the insight that most hunters never quite attain until their later years, if they make it that long.
He can feel Gordon’s eyes on him as he checks out the room but Gordon just stands by the door, his jacket tossed aside on one of the chairs and his hands hanging loose at his sides. Like he expects Dean to attack him. No, Dean thinks with a smile. Like he wants Dean to attack him.
“Take your clothes off.” Dean says.
“What?”
Dean looks over his shoulder at the older man but there is nothing in his eyes that makes Dean think he’ll say no. He wanted a fight but Dean wants control and Gordon needs to be off balanced for that. “I said take your clothes off.”
Gordon’s eyes go wide and Dean looks away before he sees the smirk that graces his lips. He doesn’t need to show much yet. Gordon is sold already and Dean smiles as he hears the sound of clothes dropping behind him.
“On the bed.”
Gordon doesn’t say anything but Dean can hear the bed squeaking as the other man climbs on top of it. Dean doesn’t waste any time as he walks over and joins him. He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t try to make this anything more than hard and fast and need. Hell, he doesn’t even bother getting undressed, just drops his pants and fucks into Gordon long and hard until the other man is screaming underneath him.
Screaming the way his victims do when he kills them. Screaming the way Dean’s do. Dean sees through the cloud of blood finally, sees away from the man he’d sawed in two tonight and the hate and pain and need to cover it all up with bravado inherited from his father. He feels dirty and tired and when he rolls away from Gordon to pull his pants up he sees the light of obsession in Gordon’s eyes, the reverence and awe that sometimes comes when people find another hunter of their caliber. They are few and far between and they aren’t the friendliest bunch.
“So, we still gonna do this thing?” Gordon asks and Dean knows he’s talking about the hunt.
“Course.” He answers back as he reaches for the doorknob. He decides to stop because there’s something dark in the room and he can feel it trying to wrap around him. The man might be a good fuck and a great hunter, but he doesn’t trust him to look at him. “About earlier…” he looks over his shoulder then and gives a smile that makes lesser man quake. Gordon just looks confused. “Don’t mess with Sam, no matter what goes down, you leave him alone. He’s my blood, and I keep what’s mine.”
Gordon nods and Dean has a sinking feeling in his stomach and he wants nothing more than to go to bed and forget this whole damn day, only he can’t just yet. He walks away from the room and finds his way to his own, taking his second long hot shower of the night. This time it isn’t vampire blood he’s washing away, but hunter scum and he’s not entirely sure which is worse.
Sam turns over in bed when Dean looks over at him. They don’t say anything at first, but then Dean reaches a hand out and brushes the hair out of Sam’s face. His brother smiles sleepily at him and his eyes close shut.
Dean crawls into his own bed, facing Sam, knowing that it’s only this knowledge of Sam being close that keeps his own nightmares away. He’s got more than enough blood on his hands to understand why Sam had such a hard time sleeping for a while and now more than ever he wants to protect him from it.
They’re family. It’s what they do and even if it meant drowning in a river of blood, Dean would take his last gulp, breathing red, to save his little brother from this kind of hurt.