Forty-Three Days (1/9)
Master Post here.
Chapter 1: Sound and Vision
The scotch went down like water, Jensen immediately rapping his knuckles on the lacquered wooden bar of Gerard’s for a refill. He kept his eyes fixed on the glass as the smooth amber liquid was replenished, nodding curtly at the bartender once the glass was full. He shifted uneasily in his chair at the bar, leaning back into the dark mahogany and lifting the scotch to his lips.
“Man, can you believe it? We get done here, and I’m out to go fight fucking Jason Voorhees. Course I’ll probably get my head split in two with a fucking chainsaw, but who the hell gives a shit, right?”
Jensen could hear Jared, could see his mouth moving a mile a minute under the sunny glow of the bar’s recessed lighting, and forced a frail smile and quiet chuckle past his lips. They were sitting side by side at the bar, looking every bit the parts of Sam and Dean. It had become a habit of theirs to “steal” clothes from set, taking it upon themselves to walk off without changing. They’d shed some of the more conspicuous elements of their wardrobe. There was no way in hell Jensen would chance strolling around Vancouver in Dean’s trademark beaten leather jacket. But the boots, worn jeans, and t-shirts they were dressed in ninety percent of the time still allowed them to blend in. Of course, it helped that they were comfortable.
There they sat, Jared wearing Sam’s blue- and white-striped button-down the way he always did, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, Jensen beside him in one of Dean’s many grey tees. Jared chugged a beer while Jensen downed his scotch, long hair flopping into his bright hazel eyes as he babbled excitedly about his upcoming movie role. If a sober Jared was impossible to ignore (sometimes only because of his sheer size), a less than sober Jared was a bit like an elephant that had snorted a trunkload of cocaine. As an outsider, Jensen would’ve been amazed at his own ability to treat Jared as nothing more than a set prop. But, for all of Jared’s size and volume (exaggerated gesturing included), Jensen couldn’t bring himself to focus on Jared, or anything else, for that matter. He was distracted. He’d been distracted for weeks, though never to this extent.
It had started as a slight buzzing in his ears. Not exactly like the ringing you sometimes get after being in front of the speakers at a concert, but similar. It was low, distant, and he could shake his head and clear it from his senses if he wanted to. It bothered him, but he could still do his job and function as a normal human being. But, over time, the buzz had intensified. It was still low, something like the hum of a running kitchen appliance, but far less soothing. It wasn’t a buzz anymore, but a growl, harsh and animalistic, drawing all of his attention away from the greater details of his life. His arm worked mechanically to bring glass after glass of scotch to his lips, his throat opening to allow the liquid burn to flow through. But when he looked around the paneled room with its varnished tables and leather chairs and saw glasses clinking, mouths opening in laughter and conversation, and, of course, Jared flailing beside him, all other sounds seemed muted under that constant, rumbling growl.
“Ow!” Jensen’s hand flew to the back of his head, rubbing where Jared had just swatted, trying to get his attention. It hadn’t hurt, so much as shocked him out of his disturbed reverie. “The fuck, Jared?”
“No smartass comment?” Jared asked, arms spread wide, beer in hand. “No, ‘Hey, you’d probably look better that way, Jarhead’?”
Jensen’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. He’d already forgotten the last thing Jared had said, and he wasn’t going to bother trying to cover it up. Jared would see right through it.
“Dude.” Jared set his beer down on the bar. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m sorry, man,” Jensen apologized, setting his glass down to be refilled. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, willing the growl to stop rattling around in his brain. “Guess my mind’s just somewhere else.”
“Yeah?” Jared picked his beer back up, taking another swig. “Where at?”
“Nowhere in particular.” He shrugged, downing some more scotch. “Just thinking about how I can’t wait to not have to see your face every day.”
“Right,” Jared laughed, but his smile faded quickly, his upbeat mood suddenly taking a dive.
Jensen watched the laughter drain out of Jared’s expression, eyes suddenly losing their flare, and immediately regretted his choice of words. It was meant to be a joke; one of those smartass statements Jared had been expecting earlier. But in Jensen’s current state, it came out much more bitter and harsh than he’d intended. He reached out and patted Jared’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before letting his arm drop.
“I’m just stressed, man. It’s been a rough schedule since the strike ended. I’m glad we’re done, but…it’s taking a while to get out of the mindset, you know?”
“Thought the scotch would help,” Jared said, his spark returning with the smirk spreading on his face.
“Yeah, me too.”
It was just stress. That was what Jensen kept telling himself. After all, he’d already been to a doctor, had a hearing test, and everything. Nothing was physically wrong with him. But with the end of the writers’ strike, they’d hit the ground running, working through scheduling and budget problems to crank out the last four episodes of the season. With a short break between the end of the season and the start of filming for his next movie, he could work on getting some much needed rest. A few days of sleeping in, and this would all be over.
“Y’alright?” Jared’s voice broke into his thoughts once again. “Something wrong?”
“Nah, man.” Jensen flinched slightly, eyes darting around the room when he thought he saw a flash of black nearby. He turned back to Jared, who eyed him suspiciously, and added an unconvincing, “Everything’s fine.”
Jared frowned, setting his beer back down on the bar and leaning towards Jensen. It wasn’t often that Jensen found himself on the receiving end of Sam’s concerned puppy eyes in real life. It would have made him laugh, if he wasn’t so stressed out that he was hallucinating.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Jared spoke quietly, his tone warm and sincere. “I mean, if anything’s bothering you, even if it’s me, you can tell me.”
“You’re not bothering me, Jared,” Jensen answered, pouring some more scotch down his throat. “Nothing is. I’m perfectly fine. Really. It’s just stress.”
“Yeah, so you said.” Jared finished his beer and fidgeted anxiously in his seat, eyes still on Jensen. “You wanna share a cab?”
The ride was mostly silent, which was unusual for them, especially after a night out at a bar. Though he’d barely paid attention to Jared the entire night, Jensen was all too aware of his friend in the close confines of the cab. All of his focus was on Jared now, on acting normal, like nothing was wrong. He could still hear the growl, but his nerves had suddenly overridden that distraction. He could feel Jared’s eyes on him, feel him fidgeting on the seat, wanting so badly to find out what Jensen was hiding from him. Any other time, Jensen would open up, as much as guys do. But this was different. This was hallucinating, hearing things. Besides, there was no need to bother Jared with it. It was only stress, and in a few days, he’d forget all about it.
“So…you’ll keep in touch, right?”
Jensen tensed. It was awkward. Why was Jared making it awkward?
“Yeah,” Jensen ground out. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”
A long pause followed. Jensen looked out the window, Jared’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head. Christ, this ride was taking forever. Seeing another flash of black outside his window, Jensen blinked rapidly and turned to focus on the back of the passenger seat in front of him, Jared looming in the corner of his eye.
“Jensen,” Jared began softly.
Jensen was pretty sure Jared saw him close his eyes and clench his jaw in frustration, which was probably why Jared’s voice died out uneasily. The regret that Jensen had felt earlier didn’t resurface. Nervous anger took its place. He needed to get away from Jared as soon as possible, to the safety of his apartment, where he could be alone and get some undisturbed sleep.
The cab stopped in front of Jared’s house, and Jensen breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, good luck with the movie,” Jared said as he opened his door, trying to lighten the mood and cut through the tension.
“Yeah, thanks,” was all Jensen could manage. He didn’t turn to see Jared’s shoulders slump in defeat, only stared straight ahead, thankful when the door closed and the cab lurched back into motion.
He climbed the stairs to his apartment building with the growl thrumming in his ears. He froze while fumbling for his keys, catching a large black shape lurking on the corner. He made a point of taking his contacts out as soon as he made it inside, thinking that maybe it would lessen the clarity of his hallucinations even more. And he’d rather have that than be able to see the inside of his apartment in sharp detail. He’d seen it all before, anyway.
Finally making it to his bed, he fell onto the mattress fully clothed, all disturbing thoughts and sounds waning as he gave himself over to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen woke at some ungodly hour of the morning, uncomfortable, cramped, and thirsty. Sore muscles making him groan, he forced himself up out of bed and into his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. Still half asleep, he gulped the water down sloppily, more than a few drops escaping both the glass and his lips to pour down his front. The icy cold liquid helped to awaken the rest of his senses, and, setting his empty glass down in the sink, he paused to listen intently.
“Silence,” he said aloud, his lips spreading in a wide grin. He braced his hands on the counter, leaning forward and quietly laughing to himself, shaking his head back and forth. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “Totally ridiculous.”
He walked back into his bedroom, still grinning, and bent to rid himself of Dean’s boots. Discarding the rest of Dean’s clothes, he stretched and crossed over to the window, leaning against the cool glass. Apparently, he wasn’t as bad off as he thought. What he thought would take a few days of sleep to cure took only a few hours. Staring out the window at the rapidly lightening sky, he sighed heavily. Now that his head was clear, he thought back about the night’s events, and regret hit him again, full force. He needed to call Jared and apologize for the way he’d acted.
“Sleep first,” Jensen grunted, glancing down at the rain-soaked streets of Vancouver, the droplets on the window blurring his vision more than it already had been.
Sudden movement caught his eye, and he squinted, trying in vain to focus in the dim light. He swallowed roughly, mouth suddenly going dry again, when he saw that same black shape that he’d seen in the bar and outside the cab window. It hit him then that he wasn’t even wearing his contacts, but the definition of the shape on the streets below had become clearer, if anything.
“What the hell?”
Jensen backed away from the window, his heart suddenly racing. Taking a few deep breaths, he chanced another glance down at the streets. It was still there; hadn’t moved. It was almost as if…
“No,” Jensen said, shaking his head, “No. No, I’m crazy. I just need sleep.”
Did he? Crazier things had happened. What if he was being followed? Plenty of celebrities had stalkers. While he didn’t like to think of himself as a celebrity, the possibility of a stalker still existed. After all, that thing out there couldn’t just be a thing. It was someone. Someone was keeping an eye on him, following him, staking out his apartment building.
He forced down the feeling of dread building in his chest, bending to pick up the jeans he’d tossed on the floor and fishing his cell phone out of one of the pockets. He fought to keep his shaking hands under control as he dialed 911, silently wishing he’d come clean with Jared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing had made him feel more stupid than talking to the cops. Someone was following him. Who? He didn’t know. What did this person look like? He didn’t know. Was this person male or female? He didn’t know. He’d seen nothing more than a shadow, which didn’t give anybody much to go on. Still, the authorities seemed to pity him, and, given the amount of enthusiastic fans in the area, they advised him to simply keep a low profile while they routinely searched the neighborhood for his supposed stalker.
Jensen called his family to tell them he’d be hiding out in Vancouver for a while, attempting to give them a less crazy version of the story. He hated making them worry for what was probably nothing, but if he had to call anybody, it was them. He avoided talking to anyone else, preferring to wait until this whole mess was over. Voice and text messages from everyone, including his girlfriend, were left unreturned. He’d fallen into a self-pitying antisocial rut. In the end, the only person he felt he owed some sort of communication was Jared, having parted with his best friend on such a shitty note. Still, he didn’t have the courage to call.
He sat down at his kitchen table with his cell phone, eventually settling for a text message, impressed with himself for knowing his phone well enough to be able to send one without any visual aids. He hadn’t worn his contacts since that night at the bar. Suddenly, his vision wasn’t so important to him. He did still keep his glasses close, incase he needed them, the thin frames resting there on the table.
Don’t expect to hear from me for a while.
Jensen groaned as soon as he sent the message, bending to let his forehead bang slightly on the kitchen table. “Smooth,” he thought to himself. “Real smooth.” His phone beeped almost immediately, and he lifted his head back up to read Jared’s response, grabbing for his glasses and sliding them on.
Why?
Then, before Jensen could formulate a response,
What’s wrong?
“Jesus,” Jensen grunted. “Give me a chance, will ya?”
He tensed when his phone started ringing in his palm, Jared’s name popping up on the caller ID. On instinct, he immediately forwarded the call. He wasn’t ready for this, dammit. He didn’t want to talk about it. That was the whole point of a text message, wasn’t it? Another beep.
Tell me.
Beep.
Please.
In spite of himself and the situation, Jensen smiled. It was always amusing when Jared’s “verbal diarrhea” carried over into his text messages. His smile faded as he fought to come up with a response to Jared’s pleas.
Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. I’ll call you in a few days.
A few days. In a few days, Jensen was expected to fly out to Pennsylvania to begin filming My Bloody Valentine. He hoped like hell that he wouldn’t feel like such a mess when that time came.
He somehow doubted that when he finally stepped outside, the growl resuming its pulsing beat in his ears.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Ackles, it’s been a while, just wanted to see how filming was going. Call me back, asshole.”
“Hey, Jensen, it’s me. There’s this thing…Sandy and I broke up. And…I’m okay, I just…felt like talking to you, you know? Anyways, I’m gonna go before you make fun of me for being a fuckin’ girl. Gimme a call, man.”
“Jensen, it’s Jared. Again. Listen, I heard you dropped out of the movie…Didn’t seem like something you’d do. Call me back, let me know that everything’s okay.”
“Jensen…are you pissed at me, dude? Call me. Let me know what’s up.”
“Dude…people have been calling me…and your family came to see me at the convention. No one’s heard from you, man, they’re all worried. So am I. Please call me. Or at least call your mother. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to let someone know you’re alright.”
Jensen’s promise to call Jared in a few days had had been broken by more than two weeks. Jared hoped that it was just because Jensen was busy filming his new movie, and that a more upbeat message would have a better chance of getting through to Jensen than all of his concerned questioning had. But Jensen never called him back. Not even when Jared called him with his own personal problems, which hurt a lot more than Jared would admit. It wasn’t as if Jared didn’t have other people to turn to for support, but he would’ve expected something more from someone he thought of as his best friend, or even a second brother. He thought back to that night at Gerard’s, the cab ride, the dismissive text messages, and now this, and found himself more pissed off than hurt, wondering why Jensen was being such an ass towards him for seemingly no reason.
With the news that Jensen had backed out of My Bloody Valentine, a role that he’d been pretty excited about when he first scored it, Jared’s anger waned, allowing the worry to creep back in. He tried calling, again and again. Why the hell wouldn’t Jensen tell him what was going on? What had he done to push Jensen away?
Then, suddenly, Jensen’s other friends were calling him. None of them had heard from Jensen, and all of them called wondering if he’d still kept in touch with Jared. The idea that Jensen didn’t just have a personal problem with Jared should have been a relief. Instead, it had only caused him to crossover into panic; especially when Jensen’s parents showed up at the Supernatural convention in Dallas to corner Jared and ask him why their son refused to call home. Jared left the convention scared out of his mind, leaving yet another message for Jensen. And Jensen still never called him back.
Jared had finally finished eight weeks of filming and grueling fight scenes. He’d been looking forward to this break for months. He’d flown straight out to Texas after finishing up season three of Supernatural, and now he had a little more than two weeks to kick back and relax. He had planned on spending those two weeks doing just that with his family, sleeping in his old bed and eating some homemade pie. But he couldn’t enjoy it now, when he had absolutely no way of knowing if his best friend was okay.
He said goodnight to his family and plodded up the stairs, closing the door to his room behind him, and flopping back on his bed. He pulled his cell phone off the clip on his jeans, briefly considering calling Jensen one more time. But if that hadn’t worked for the past two months, why would it work now? He let his arm fall to his side on the bed, allowing himself to slowly drift off.
The shrill ring of his phone jolted Jared out of his half-sleep, making him spring forward into a sitting position. Lifting the phone in his hand, he stared down at the screen for a second before answering, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest.
“Jensen?” Silence…hesitation…shaky breathing. “Jensen? Jensen, talk to me.”
“Jared?” Jared absentmindedly clutched the sheets in his free hand at the sound of Jensen’s panicked voice. “Jared, I’m…”
“Jensen, are you alright?” He stood, pacing the room, nervously switching the phone to his other hand and running his fingers through his hair. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to call someone, anyone? Talk to me, man, let me know what you need.”
“Jared…God…I think I’m losing my mind.” Jared froze in the middle of the room when he heard the choked-off sob come through the phone. “I…I need you. I need you to come back to Vancouver. Can you do that, Jared? I just…You’re the only one who’ll understand.”
“Yeah,” Jared replied, immediately scrambling and bending to reach for the suitcase he’d shoved underneath his bed. “Yeah, I can do that, man. Whatever you need, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll let you know when I get there.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared quietly knocked on his sister’s door before opening it, crossing the darkened room to her bed. He stared down at her sleeping form for a minute or two, reluctant to wake her. But he’d already packed, booked a flight, called ahead to leave a message for his dog sitter to say he’d be back to take care of them himself in a few hours, and having Megan drive him to the airport would be quicker than calling and waiting for a car to get to the house and then take him there.
“Megan,” he whispered softly, kneeling down beside her bed and gently shaking her by the shoulder. “Hey.”
Megan stirred and turned towards him in the dark, groaning.
“Jared?” She reached up to rub her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jared answered, then paused. “Well…nothing you need to worry about, anyway.”
“Really?” Megan asked, sitting up in bed and reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp. “If I don’t have to worry about it, then why am I awake right now?”
“Right to the point,” Jared laughed. “Feel like doing your big brother a favor?”
“Depends which big brother you’re referring to,” she said, smiling.
Jared smiled back, then lowered his head, his smile fading.
“You wanna drive me to the airport?”
Megan stared at him open-mouthed, eyes narrowing at him.
“The airport? Now? Why? I thought you were staying to help me move…”
“Yeah, I know, I was,” Jared stammered, “But something’s come up back in Vancouver, and I have to go. Megan, I’m really sorry,” he said, one hand on his chest, the other grasping her arm gently when she rolled her eyes and turned away. “You know I wouldn’t do this unless I really had to.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Megan huffed, rubbing at her eyes again as she rolled to a stop at a red light.
“Because I’m the best big brother you’ve ever had, and you love me way more than Jeff,” Jared joked, grinning over at her. She laughed and then grew quiet when the light changed, and Jared sighed. “Look, just tell mom and dad that I’m-”
“‘Sorry,’ I know,” Megan interrupted. “You said it like nine times already. You didn’t want to wake them and get them all worried, and they shouldn’t call Jensen’s parents until you find out what’s going on.”
“See?” Jared said, smiling sweetly. “That’s why I’m totally okay about ending up with a little sister instead of a puppy.” He ducked, dodging a playful swat to the back of his head. “What? I mean it. You’re very loyal and affectionate. Housebroken, too.”
“Shut up,” Megan laughed.
Jared spent the rest of the ride in a rather nervous state, constantly checking his watch. He finally relaxed when they pulled up at the curb outside the gate for his flight, Megan quickly stepping out with him as he unloaded his belongings. He turned to her, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Thanks, Meg. I owe you one.” He gave her a squeeze before pulling away. “Call me. Let me know you got home okay.”
“You call me when you get to Vancouver,” she retorted, hands on her hips. “Let me know you’re safe and sound after speeding out of here to track Jensen down.”
“I will,” Jared said, nodding. He watched her drive away, and then found his luggage, anxious to board his plane and fly back to Vancouver.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared closed his front door behind him, carelessly dropping his luggage on his living room floor. He bent down to greet the dogs, happy to finally see them again, and let them out into the yard. Satisfied that Harley and Sadie were okay after they’d come back in from doing their business, he immediately picked up his cell phone. Checking his voicemail, he decided to first return his sister’s call and let her know he’d landed safely. With that task accomplished, he wasted no time in scrolling through his contacts for Jensen’s number, hitting the send button and cursing when Jensen’s cell kept right on ringing.
“Hello?”
“Jensen?” Jared’s relief was somewhat short-lived as it was replaced by confusion, thrown off by how calm Jensen sounded compared to the last time they’d spoken on the phone. “Hey…uh…I just got back to Vancouver, I’m at my house. Did you want to-”
“Yeah, great, meet me at Shebeen.”
“You…You’re at a bar?” Jared asked, after a pause. He heard Jensen grunt over the phone, and could almost see the eye roll that must have accompanied the noise, anger beginning to rise in the pit of his stomach.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Wha-Why wouldn’t you be?” Jared stuttered, laughing incredulously and feeling just about ready to reach through the phone and strangle his friend. “Because you called me in a fucking panic, begging me to come back here for you!” he said, his voice rising, heat boiling beneath his skin. “Because you’ve managed to piss me the fuck off and drive me and everyone else you know crazy with worry in the past couple of months with your genius vanishing act! Because I just busted my ass getting all my shit together, pulling my little sister out of bed to help me get to the airport in time, and completely ruined my vacation to fly back here at the drop of a fucking hat, all for you! That’s why you shouldn’t be out at some fucking bar, Jensen! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He stopped, waiting for a response, his chest heaving while the red cleared from his vision after his tirade. He listened intently through the heavy silence that followed, finally breaking it himself.
“Well?” he began testily. “Jensen?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it just in time to see Jensen’s name and the length of the phone call begin flashing on the screen. Jensen had just hung up.
“Fuck!” Jared shouted, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth in frustration. He gripped the phone in his hand so tightly it nearly broke in his grasp, and he struggled hard to resist the urge to heave the tiny object across the room. Shit, he had a headache.
Harley and Sadie were whining and pawing at him, and he sighed heavily, rubbing at his temples before turning to fill their bowls with food and water. He couldn’t believe that Jensen had just put him through all this fear and misery just to haul ass back to Vancouver and go out for a fucking drink.
He cursed again under his breath, this time at himself, angry now that worry and guilt were creeping up on him. Why was he still so damn concerned? Why the hell should he start feeling bad about what he’d just said after all Jensen had put him through? Christ, with the way Jensen had treated him the past couple of months, he shouldn’t even be here.
“He wouldn’t even speak to his family.” The thought crept out from the recesses of Jared’s mind, and he groaned, raking his hands through his hair. “He called you. Remember how he sounded.”
“Fuck me,” Jared muttered aloud, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading for the door. The bar was close enough that he could walk, anyway. Jared couldn’t help but think that sometimes he was way too nice for his own good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared reached the Irish Heather in a matter of minutes, walking quickly through it to the private courtyard at the back which led to the bright red door of the Shebeen Whiskey House. The Shebeen was small and secluded, the bar built into the brick walls of an old nineteenth century coach house. Jensen had brought Jared here a number of times, mostly for its reputation as a well-stocked scotch bar. Taking a deep breath, Jared opened the door and entered the room, eyes quickly adjusting to the dimly lit area.
Jensen was easy to spot, one of the few figures hunched over on a barstool at this hour, his hair a little longer than usual, face unshaven. Jared watched from across the room as Jensen stared into his glass, dim red-rimmed eyes focused on it as if it were the last thing in the world he could really understand. Words Jared never would have used to describe Jensen before ran through his head: pale, thin, lonely, small, vulnerable, and scared. Guilt returned when he noticed Jensen occasionally glancing sorrowfully at the phone laying flat on top of the bar. He approached Jensen cautiously, gently laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Hey.”
As cautious and gentle as the touch was, Jensen jumped out of his seat, crying out in fear, his glass shattering on the floor. Jared stepped back, hands held up, palms outward, giving Jensen time and space to calm down. His stomach fluttered a bit with nerves at Jensen’s unexpected reaction.
“Jensen, relax. It’s okay. It’s just me.”
Jensen stared at him for a few seconds from where he was cowering against the bar, chest heaving with gasping breaths, hands shaking. When recognition finally dawned in his eyes, Jared swore he saw them fill with tears. Jensen turned away, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.
“You’re here,” he said, his voice shaky and quiet.
“Of course I am.” Jared stepped forward, discreetly nodding at the suspicious bartender and slipping her a wad of cash before gently resting his hands on Jensen’s arms, offering a small smile when his friend finally looked up at him, the mist suddenly gone from his eyes. “I said I would be, didn’t I?” Jensen slowly nodded at him, gaze sliding down to the floor.
“My…My glass.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jared said when Jensen began to reach for the shattered remains. His heart clenched when he heard the faraway, childlike tone of Jensen’s voice. “It’s taken care of.” He leaned down until he caught Jensen’s eye again. “You wanna tell me what happened?” Jensen hesitated, nervously licking his lips.
“Jared,” he began, pausing again and staring down at the floor, watching the liquid from his broken glass roll between his feet. “If I told you something…” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, and looked back up at Jared. “If I told you that something that happened on our show was happening to me…would you think I was crazy?”
Jensen stared up at him with a heartbreaking mixture of hope and fear; fear that Jared would reject him, tell him he’d gone insane, tell him no such thing was possible. Jared fought to keep his expression neutral and his mind open, willing to listen and consider whatever Jensen might tell him.
“No,” Jared said honestly, watching the tension slowly leave Jensen’s body, green eyes finally brightening and showing some relief. “No, I’d never think that. You can tell me anything.”
Jensen suddenly surged forward and pulled him into a bruising hug, and Jared simply responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s thin frame.
“I haven’t talked to anyone in so long,” Jensen said softly. Jared tightened his hold. “I was too fucking scared.” He hid his face against Jared’s shoulder in shame. “I felt so fucking stupid.”
“Talk to me,” Jared said, the commanding statement a bit of a contrast to the gentle circles he rubbed into his friend’s back. “I need to know what’s going on. You’re scaring me, man.”
“I can hear them, Jared,” Jensen said, licking his lips again as he slowly pulled back, his eyes nervously flicking around the room. “I can see them, too.” Jared shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his arms crossing over his chest.
“You can see who, Jensen?” he asked, concern building into dread.
“Not ‘who.’” Jensen shook his head, tension visibly building in his body and fear glowing in his eyes again as his voice wavered, “Hellhounds.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen stormed out of the bar, crossing the courtyard to the Irish Heather and heading back out to the street, Jared hot on his heels. Shaking his head, he whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at Jared.
“You said you would believe me!” he shouted. “You said you wouldn’t think I was crazy!”
“Keep your voice down!” Jared scalded, moving closer and pushing Jensen’s arm down. “I never said I didn’t believe you, but why the fuck would you be seeing Hellhounds, Jensen?”
“I don’t know!” Jensen shouted again, then closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to get himself under control. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I don’t know.” Jared suddenly grabbed him by the arm, and Jensen angrily shrugged him off.
“You didn’t make a deal, did you?” Jared asked, his tone flat and even, unsure of what to expect. Of the two of them, Jared had always been more willing to believe in the supernatural. It was incredibly unlikely for any of this to be real, but if it was…
“No!” Jensen gaped at him, head shaking back and forth. “God, no! You think I’m that goddamn stupid?”
“No, Jensen, I don’t,” Jared sighed, shoulders drooping.
“Christ!”
Jensen turned, taking a few short steps away from Jared, gently rubbing his temples. He paused and stiffened when he felt Jared’s fingers lightly wrap around his arm.
“You’re not stupid, Jensen,” Jared said, his voice laced with guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m not stupid.” Jensen’s body drooped, tired and defeated. “I’m just crazy. Right?” Jared opened his mouth and closed it, unsure of how to respond. “Why is this happening to me?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll help you.”
“Yeah,” Jensen laughed bitterly. “You mean you’ll get me help.”
“Jensen…” Jared stepped forward, into Jensen’s line of vision. “If that’s what you need…”
Jensen turned to look at Jared but his gaze slid further on, focusing on something behind Jared. His eyes widened in fear, and he stumbled backwards.
“Jensen?” Jared eyed him with concern. “Jensen, what is it?”
Jensen didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, gasping and choking on his words. With a fleeting glance at Jared, he turned and bolted, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name beneath a strangely familiar growl.
“Jensen!”
Just like that night at Gerard’s, Jensen could hear Jared, but his voice was easy to ignore, the growl much more intense now than ever. He could see the Hellhound clearly, looking very much as Sam had described, a “demonic pit bull.” He wasn’t even wearing his contacts, having dealt with blurry vision for quite some time now, even choosing to set a specific ringtone for Jared, so that he wouldn’t have to use his glasses to be able to tell when his friend was calling him. Feeling that the large black animal was close behind him, ready to attack this time, he ran without paying attention to any of his surroundings, knowing that he simply had to get away.
“Jensen, stop! Please!”
It happened so fast. He wasn’t even aware that he’d begun crossing a two lane street. With the growl roaring in his ears, he almost didn’t hear the blaring horn and screeching of brakes to his right. He was shocked by the vehicle that seemed to suddenly materialize out of thin air, nearly on top of him. A sharp cry escaped his mouth as he stumbled, the metal of the car’s grille just touching his legs. His body turned, trying to right itself, and he ended up facing the car and dropping forward, his palms braced flat on the hood. He was vaguely aware of Jared’s panicked scream, his gaze briefly passing over the blurred shape of the driver before he collected himself and began running again.
Jensen began frantically searching his pockets as he ran, his speed lagging a bit, giving Jared time to catch up to him. Catching a glance of fear from Jensen, who turned briefly to see him catching up, Jared drew closer and lunged forward, tackling his best friend to the ground and trying to soften the fall as best he could, which wasn’t much. Still, the fall didn’t exactly throw Jensen off. Jared struggled to keep him still, wrestling on the ground as Jensen fought violently beneath him.
“No! No! Let me go! Fuck, Jared, let me go! Please, God…”
Jensen was damn near hysterical, and Jared looked around, thankful that they’d happened down a fairly deserted side street. He managed to block a right hook Jensen threw at him from below, completely taken aback by his friend actually taking a swing at him. He’d never physically fought Jensen, and hoped he never would. But here he was, Jensen’s left fist suddenly connecting with his cheekbone. He did his best to ignore the pain, using his own size and strength to his advantage and pinning Jensen’s biceps to the ground. Jensen immediately gripped Jared’s forearms, using them as leverage to thrust a knee up towards Jared’s body. Jared groaned loudly in pain when that knee hit just shy of his groin, crashing into his inner thigh instead. He briefly closed his eyes, feeling Jensen still struggling beneath him, almost pulling free. Jared willed the stars in his front of his eyes to fade, quickly rolling into a better position to fully pin Jensen’s entire body, using all of his remaining strength to keep Jensen in place as he struggled. Looking down, he noticed that Jensen now had a small leather pouch clutched in his hand.
“What is that?” Jared asked breathlessly, leaning closer. “Isn’t that a prop?” He pulled back, staring down at Jensen in disbelief. “You’re stealing from set now?”
“I need it,” Jensen choked out, a few panicked tears escaping his eyes. “Jared, they’re after me. You have to let me go.”
“Jensen.” Jared looked down at him sympathetically. Fear was growing inside of him. What if Jensen really had lost his mind? “Man, they’re not after you. Please, just calm-”
Jensen’s expression suddenly changed from fear to agony, his head thrown back against the pavement as he screamed in pain. Jared jolted in surprise, loosening his grip on Jensen, and looked down just in time to see phantom claws raking through the denim covering Jensen’s leg, blood pouring through the jagged openings.
“Help me,” Jensen sobbed, Jared’s head snapping back up to look at him. “Jared, please, don’t let me die.”
“Fuck!” Jared cursed, his heart pounding in his chest. As quickly as he could, he got up, hauling Jensen to his feet, and began running, pulling Jensen along behind him. He could hear Jensen laboring behind him, and had to fight to run through his own pain, his leg throbbing where Jensen had kneed him. “Keep going,” Jared urged, knowing how badly Jensen was hurting, “Just keep going!”
“Where?” Jensen gasped. “Jared, where?”
“My house,” Jared panted, quickly reaching back and grabbing the leather pouch out of Jensen’s hand, suddenly realizing what it was for, “Not far.”
They were both tiring, Jared could feel it. But his heart leapt when they turned a corner and caught sight of his house. He found a new burst of energy, and pulled Jensen on. Cursing and fighting with his keys when they got to the front door, he finally pulled it open and pushed Jensen inside. Slamming the door behind them, Jared spun around and opened the pouch, dumping a portion of its contents along the bottom of the door.
Chapter 2: Blood and Dust
Chapter 1: Sound and Vision
The scotch went down like water, Jensen immediately rapping his knuckles on the lacquered wooden bar of Gerard’s for a refill. He kept his eyes fixed on the glass as the smooth amber liquid was replenished, nodding curtly at the bartender once the glass was full. He shifted uneasily in his chair at the bar, leaning back into the dark mahogany and lifting the scotch to his lips.
“Man, can you believe it? We get done here, and I’m out to go fight fucking Jason Voorhees. Course I’ll probably get my head split in two with a fucking chainsaw, but who the hell gives a shit, right?”
Jensen could hear Jared, could see his mouth moving a mile a minute under the sunny glow of the bar’s recessed lighting, and forced a frail smile and quiet chuckle past his lips. They were sitting side by side at the bar, looking every bit the parts of Sam and Dean. It had become a habit of theirs to “steal” clothes from set, taking it upon themselves to walk off without changing. They’d shed some of the more conspicuous elements of their wardrobe. There was no way in hell Jensen would chance strolling around Vancouver in Dean’s trademark beaten leather jacket. But the boots, worn jeans, and t-shirts they were dressed in ninety percent of the time still allowed them to blend in. Of course, it helped that they were comfortable.
There they sat, Jared wearing Sam’s blue- and white-striped button-down the way he always did, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, Jensen beside him in one of Dean’s many grey tees. Jared chugged a beer while Jensen downed his scotch, long hair flopping into his bright hazel eyes as he babbled excitedly about his upcoming movie role. If a sober Jared was impossible to ignore (sometimes only because of his sheer size), a less than sober Jared was a bit like an elephant that had snorted a trunkload of cocaine. As an outsider, Jensen would’ve been amazed at his own ability to treat Jared as nothing more than a set prop. But, for all of Jared’s size and volume (exaggerated gesturing included), Jensen couldn’t bring himself to focus on Jared, or anything else, for that matter. He was distracted. He’d been distracted for weeks, though never to this extent.
It had started as a slight buzzing in his ears. Not exactly like the ringing you sometimes get after being in front of the speakers at a concert, but similar. It was low, distant, and he could shake his head and clear it from his senses if he wanted to. It bothered him, but he could still do his job and function as a normal human being. But, over time, the buzz had intensified. It was still low, something like the hum of a running kitchen appliance, but far less soothing. It wasn’t a buzz anymore, but a growl, harsh and animalistic, drawing all of his attention away from the greater details of his life. His arm worked mechanically to bring glass after glass of scotch to his lips, his throat opening to allow the liquid burn to flow through. But when he looked around the paneled room with its varnished tables and leather chairs and saw glasses clinking, mouths opening in laughter and conversation, and, of course, Jared flailing beside him, all other sounds seemed muted under that constant, rumbling growl.
“Ow!” Jensen’s hand flew to the back of his head, rubbing where Jared had just swatted, trying to get his attention. It hadn’t hurt, so much as shocked him out of his disturbed reverie. “The fuck, Jared?”
“No smartass comment?” Jared asked, arms spread wide, beer in hand. “No, ‘Hey, you’d probably look better that way, Jarhead’?”
Jensen’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. He’d already forgotten the last thing Jared had said, and he wasn’t going to bother trying to cover it up. Jared would see right through it.
“Dude.” Jared set his beer down on the bar. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m sorry, man,” Jensen apologized, setting his glass down to be refilled. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, willing the growl to stop rattling around in his brain. “Guess my mind’s just somewhere else.”
“Yeah?” Jared picked his beer back up, taking another swig. “Where at?”
“Nowhere in particular.” He shrugged, downing some more scotch. “Just thinking about how I can’t wait to not have to see your face every day.”
“Right,” Jared laughed, but his smile faded quickly, his upbeat mood suddenly taking a dive.
Jensen watched the laughter drain out of Jared’s expression, eyes suddenly losing their flare, and immediately regretted his choice of words. It was meant to be a joke; one of those smartass statements Jared had been expecting earlier. But in Jensen’s current state, it came out much more bitter and harsh than he’d intended. He reached out and patted Jared’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before letting his arm drop.
“I’m just stressed, man. It’s been a rough schedule since the strike ended. I’m glad we’re done, but…it’s taking a while to get out of the mindset, you know?”
“Thought the scotch would help,” Jared said, his spark returning with the smirk spreading on his face.
“Yeah, me too.”
It was just stress. That was what Jensen kept telling himself. After all, he’d already been to a doctor, had a hearing test, and everything. Nothing was physically wrong with him. But with the end of the writers’ strike, they’d hit the ground running, working through scheduling and budget problems to crank out the last four episodes of the season. With a short break between the end of the season and the start of filming for his next movie, he could work on getting some much needed rest. A few days of sleeping in, and this would all be over.
“Y’alright?” Jared’s voice broke into his thoughts once again. “Something wrong?”
“Nah, man.” Jensen flinched slightly, eyes darting around the room when he thought he saw a flash of black nearby. He turned back to Jared, who eyed him suspiciously, and added an unconvincing, “Everything’s fine.”
Jared frowned, setting his beer back down on the bar and leaning towards Jensen. It wasn’t often that Jensen found himself on the receiving end of Sam’s concerned puppy eyes in real life. It would have made him laugh, if he wasn’t so stressed out that he was hallucinating.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Jared spoke quietly, his tone warm and sincere. “I mean, if anything’s bothering you, even if it’s me, you can tell me.”
“You’re not bothering me, Jared,” Jensen answered, pouring some more scotch down his throat. “Nothing is. I’m perfectly fine. Really. It’s just stress.”
“Yeah, so you said.” Jared finished his beer and fidgeted anxiously in his seat, eyes still on Jensen. “You wanna share a cab?”
The ride was mostly silent, which was unusual for them, especially after a night out at a bar. Though he’d barely paid attention to Jared the entire night, Jensen was all too aware of his friend in the close confines of the cab. All of his focus was on Jared now, on acting normal, like nothing was wrong. He could still hear the growl, but his nerves had suddenly overridden that distraction. He could feel Jared’s eyes on him, feel him fidgeting on the seat, wanting so badly to find out what Jensen was hiding from him. Any other time, Jensen would open up, as much as guys do. But this was different. This was hallucinating, hearing things. Besides, there was no need to bother Jared with it. It was only stress, and in a few days, he’d forget all about it.
“So…you’ll keep in touch, right?”
Jensen tensed. It was awkward. Why was Jared making it awkward?
“Yeah,” Jensen ground out. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”
A long pause followed. Jensen looked out the window, Jared’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head. Christ, this ride was taking forever. Seeing another flash of black outside his window, Jensen blinked rapidly and turned to focus on the back of the passenger seat in front of him, Jared looming in the corner of his eye.
“Jensen,” Jared began softly.
Jensen was pretty sure Jared saw him close his eyes and clench his jaw in frustration, which was probably why Jared’s voice died out uneasily. The regret that Jensen had felt earlier didn’t resurface. Nervous anger took its place. He needed to get away from Jared as soon as possible, to the safety of his apartment, where he could be alone and get some undisturbed sleep.
The cab stopped in front of Jared’s house, and Jensen breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, good luck with the movie,” Jared said as he opened his door, trying to lighten the mood and cut through the tension.
“Yeah, thanks,” was all Jensen could manage. He didn’t turn to see Jared’s shoulders slump in defeat, only stared straight ahead, thankful when the door closed and the cab lurched back into motion.
He climbed the stairs to his apartment building with the growl thrumming in his ears. He froze while fumbling for his keys, catching a large black shape lurking on the corner. He made a point of taking his contacts out as soon as he made it inside, thinking that maybe it would lessen the clarity of his hallucinations even more. And he’d rather have that than be able to see the inside of his apartment in sharp detail. He’d seen it all before, anyway.
Finally making it to his bed, he fell onto the mattress fully clothed, all disturbing thoughts and sounds waning as he gave himself over to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen woke at some ungodly hour of the morning, uncomfortable, cramped, and thirsty. Sore muscles making him groan, he forced himself up out of bed and into his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. Still half asleep, he gulped the water down sloppily, more than a few drops escaping both the glass and his lips to pour down his front. The icy cold liquid helped to awaken the rest of his senses, and, setting his empty glass down in the sink, he paused to listen intently.
“Silence,” he said aloud, his lips spreading in a wide grin. He braced his hands on the counter, leaning forward and quietly laughing to himself, shaking his head back and forth. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “Totally ridiculous.”
He walked back into his bedroom, still grinning, and bent to rid himself of Dean’s boots. Discarding the rest of Dean’s clothes, he stretched and crossed over to the window, leaning against the cool glass. Apparently, he wasn’t as bad off as he thought. What he thought would take a few days of sleep to cure took only a few hours. Staring out the window at the rapidly lightening sky, he sighed heavily. Now that his head was clear, he thought back about the night’s events, and regret hit him again, full force. He needed to call Jared and apologize for the way he’d acted.
“Sleep first,” Jensen grunted, glancing down at the rain-soaked streets of Vancouver, the droplets on the window blurring his vision more than it already had been.
Sudden movement caught his eye, and he squinted, trying in vain to focus in the dim light. He swallowed roughly, mouth suddenly going dry again, when he saw that same black shape that he’d seen in the bar and outside the cab window. It hit him then that he wasn’t even wearing his contacts, but the definition of the shape on the streets below had become clearer, if anything.
“What the hell?”
Jensen backed away from the window, his heart suddenly racing. Taking a few deep breaths, he chanced another glance down at the streets. It was still there; hadn’t moved. It was almost as if…
“No,” Jensen said, shaking his head, “No. No, I’m crazy. I just need sleep.”
Did he? Crazier things had happened. What if he was being followed? Plenty of celebrities had stalkers. While he didn’t like to think of himself as a celebrity, the possibility of a stalker still existed. After all, that thing out there couldn’t just be a thing. It was someone. Someone was keeping an eye on him, following him, staking out his apartment building.
He forced down the feeling of dread building in his chest, bending to pick up the jeans he’d tossed on the floor and fishing his cell phone out of one of the pockets. He fought to keep his shaking hands under control as he dialed 911, silently wishing he’d come clean with Jared.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing had made him feel more stupid than talking to the cops. Someone was following him. Who? He didn’t know. What did this person look like? He didn’t know. Was this person male or female? He didn’t know. He’d seen nothing more than a shadow, which didn’t give anybody much to go on. Still, the authorities seemed to pity him, and, given the amount of enthusiastic fans in the area, they advised him to simply keep a low profile while they routinely searched the neighborhood for his supposed stalker.
Jensen called his family to tell them he’d be hiding out in Vancouver for a while, attempting to give them a less crazy version of the story. He hated making them worry for what was probably nothing, but if he had to call anybody, it was them. He avoided talking to anyone else, preferring to wait until this whole mess was over. Voice and text messages from everyone, including his girlfriend, were left unreturned. He’d fallen into a self-pitying antisocial rut. In the end, the only person he felt he owed some sort of communication was Jared, having parted with his best friend on such a shitty note. Still, he didn’t have the courage to call.
He sat down at his kitchen table with his cell phone, eventually settling for a text message, impressed with himself for knowing his phone well enough to be able to send one without any visual aids. He hadn’t worn his contacts since that night at the bar. Suddenly, his vision wasn’t so important to him. He did still keep his glasses close, incase he needed them, the thin frames resting there on the table.
Don’t expect to hear from me for a while.
Jensen groaned as soon as he sent the message, bending to let his forehead bang slightly on the kitchen table. “Smooth,” he thought to himself. “Real smooth.” His phone beeped almost immediately, and he lifted his head back up to read Jared’s response, grabbing for his glasses and sliding them on.
Why?
Then, before Jensen could formulate a response,
What’s wrong?
“Jesus,” Jensen grunted. “Give me a chance, will ya?”
He tensed when his phone started ringing in his palm, Jared’s name popping up on the caller ID. On instinct, he immediately forwarded the call. He wasn’t ready for this, dammit. He didn’t want to talk about it. That was the whole point of a text message, wasn’t it? Another beep.
Tell me.
Beep.
Please.
In spite of himself and the situation, Jensen smiled. It was always amusing when Jared’s “verbal diarrhea” carried over into his text messages. His smile faded as he fought to come up with a response to Jared’s pleas.
Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. I’ll call you in a few days.
A few days. In a few days, Jensen was expected to fly out to Pennsylvania to begin filming My Bloody Valentine. He hoped like hell that he wouldn’t feel like such a mess when that time came.
He somehow doubted that when he finally stepped outside, the growl resuming its pulsing beat in his ears.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, Ackles, it’s been a while, just wanted to see how filming was going. Call me back, asshole.”
“Hey, Jensen, it’s me. There’s this thing…Sandy and I broke up. And…I’m okay, I just…felt like talking to you, you know? Anyways, I’m gonna go before you make fun of me for being a fuckin’ girl. Gimme a call, man.”
“Jensen, it’s Jared. Again. Listen, I heard you dropped out of the movie…Didn’t seem like something you’d do. Call me back, let me know that everything’s okay.”
“Jensen…are you pissed at me, dude? Call me. Let me know what’s up.”
“Dude…people have been calling me…and your family came to see me at the convention. No one’s heard from you, man, they’re all worried. So am I. Please call me. Or at least call your mother. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to let someone know you’re alright.”
Jensen’s promise to call Jared in a few days had had been broken by more than two weeks. Jared hoped that it was just because Jensen was busy filming his new movie, and that a more upbeat message would have a better chance of getting through to Jensen than all of his concerned questioning had. But Jensen never called him back. Not even when Jared called him with his own personal problems, which hurt a lot more than Jared would admit. It wasn’t as if Jared didn’t have other people to turn to for support, but he would’ve expected something more from someone he thought of as his best friend, or even a second brother. He thought back to that night at Gerard’s, the cab ride, the dismissive text messages, and now this, and found himself more pissed off than hurt, wondering why Jensen was being such an ass towards him for seemingly no reason.
With the news that Jensen had backed out of My Bloody Valentine, a role that he’d been pretty excited about when he first scored it, Jared’s anger waned, allowing the worry to creep back in. He tried calling, again and again. Why the hell wouldn’t Jensen tell him what was going on? What had he done to push Jensen away?
Then, suddenly, Jensen’s other friends were calling him. None of them had heard from Jensen, and all of them called wondering if he’d still kept in touch with Jared. The idea that Jensen didn’t just have a personal problem with Jared should have been a relief. Instead, it had only caused him to crossover into panic; especially when Jensen’s parents showed up at the Supernatural convention in Dallas to corner Jared and ask him why their son refused to call home. Jared left the convention scared out of his mind, leaving yet another message for Jensen. And Jensen still never called him back.
Jared had finally finished eight weeks of filming and grueling fight scenes. He’d been looking forward to this break for months. He’d flown straight out to Texas after finishing up season three of Supernatural, and now he had a little more than two weeks to kick back and relax. He had planned on spending those two weeks doing just that with his family, sleeping in his old bed and eating some homemade pie. But he couldn’t enjoy it now, when he had absolutely no way of knowing if his best friend was okay.
He said goodnight to his family and plodded up the stairs, closing the door to his room behind him, and flopping back on his bed. He pulled his cell phone off the clip on his jeans, briefly considering calling Jensen one more time. But if that hadn’t worked for the past two months, why would it work now? He let his arm fall to his side on the bed, allowing himself to slowly drift off.
The shrill ring of his phone jolted Jared out of his half-sleep, making him spring forward into a sitting position. Lifting the phone in his hand, he stared down at the screen for a second before answering, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest.
“Jensen?” Silence…hesitation…shaky breathing. “Jensen? Jensen, talk to me.”
“Jared?” Jared absentmindedly clutched the sheets in his free hand at the sound of Jensen’s panicked voice. “Jared, I’m…”
“Jensen, are you alright?” He stood, pacing the room, nervously switching the phone to his other hand and running his fingers through his hair. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to call someone, anyone? Talk to me, man, let me know what you need.”
“Jared…God…I think I’m losing my mind.” Jared froze in the middle of the room when he heard the choked-off sob come through the phone. “I…I need you. I need you to come back to Vancouver. Can you do that, Jared? I just…You’re the only one who’ll understand.”
“Yeah,” Jared replied, immediately scrambling and bending to reach for the suitcase he’d shoved underneath his bed. “Yeah, I can do that, man. Whatever you need, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll let you know when I get there.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared quietly knocked on his sister’s door before opening it, crossing the darkened room to her bed. He stared down at her sleeping form for a minute or two, reluctant to wake her. But he’d already packed, booked a flight, called ahead to leave a message for his dog sitter to say he’d be back to take care of them himself in a few hours, and having Megan drive him to the airport would be quicker than calling and waiting for a car to get to the house and then take him there.
“Megan,” he whispered softly, kneeling down beside her bed and gently shaking her by the shoulder. “Hey.”
Megan stirred and turned towards him in the dark, groaning.
“Jared?” She reached up to rub her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jared answered, then paused. “Well…nothing you need to worry about, anyway.”
“Really?” Megan asked, sitting up in bed and reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp. “If I don’t have to worry about it, then why am I awake right now?”
“Right to the point,” Jared laughed. “Feel like doing your big brother a favor?”
“Depends which big brother you’re referring to,” she said, smiling.
Jared smiled back, then lowered his head, his smile fading.
“You wanna drive me to the airport?”
Megan stared at him open-mouthed, eyes narrowing at him.
“The airport? Now? Why? I thought you were staying to help me move…”
“Yeah, I know, I was,” Jared stammered, “But something’s come up back in Vancouver, and I have to go. Megan, I’m really sorry,” he said, one hand on his chest, the other grasping her arm gently when she rolled her eyes and turned away. “You know I wouldn’t do this unless I really had to.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Megan huffed, rubbing at her eyes again as she rolled to a stop at a red light.
“Because I’m the best big brother you’ve ever had, and you love me way more than Jeff,” Jared joked, grinning over at her. She laughed and then grew quiet when the light changed, and Jared sighed. “Look, just tell mom and dad that I’m-”
“‘Sorry,’ I know,” Megan interrupted. “You said it like nine times already. You didn’t want to wake them and get them all worried, and they shouldn’t call Jensen’s parents until you find out what’s going on.”
“See?” Jared said, smiling sweetly. “That’s why I’m totally okay about ending up with a little sister instead of a puppy.” He ducked, dodging a playful swat to the back of his head. “What? I mean it. You’re very loyal and affectionate. Housebroken, too.”
“Shut up,” Megan laughed.
Jared spent the rest of the ride in a rather nervous state, constantly checking his watch. He finally relaxed when they pulled up at the curb outside the gate for his flight, Megan quickly stepping out with him as he unloaded his belongings. He turned to her, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Thanks, Meg. I owe you one.” He gave her a squeeze before pulling away. “Call me. Let me know you got home okay.”
“You call me when you get to Vancouver,” she retorted, hands on her hips. “Let me know you’re safe and sound after speeding out of here to track Jensen down.”
“I will,” Jared said, nodding. He watched her drive away, and then found his luggage, anxious to board his plane and fly back to Vancouver.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared closed his front door behind him, carelessly dropping his luggage on his living room floor. He bent down to greet the dogs, happy to finally see them again, and let them out into the yard. Satisfied that Harley and Sadie were okay after they’d come back in from doing their business, he immediately picked up his cell phone. Checking his voicemail, he decided to first return his sister’s call and let her know he’d landed safely. With that task accomplished, he wasted no time in scrolling through his contacts for Jensen’s number, hitting the send button and cursing when Jensen’s cell kept right on ringing.
“Hello?”
“Jensen?” Jared’s relief was somewhat short-lived as it was replaced by confusion, thrown off by how calm Jensen sounded compared to the last time they’d spoken on the phone. “Hey…uh…I just got back to Vancouver, I’m at my house. Did you want to-”
“Yeah, great, meet me at Shebeen.”
“You…You’re at a bar?” Jared asked, after a pause. He heard Jensen grunt over the phone, and could almost see the eye roll that must have accompanied the noise, anger beginning to rise in the pit of his stomach.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Wha-Why wouldn’t you be?” Jared stuttered, laughing incredulously and feeling just about ready to reach through the phone and strangle his friend. “Because you called me in a fucking panic, begging me to come back here for you!” he said, his voice rising, heat boiling beneath his skin. “Because you’ve managed to piss me the fuck off and drive me and everyone else you know crazy with worry in the past couple of months with your genius vanishing act! Because I just busted my ass getting all my shit together, pulling my little sister out of bed to help me get to the airport in time, and completely ruined my vacation to fly back here at the drop of a fucking hat, all for you! That’s why you shouldn’t be out at some fucking bar, Jensen! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He stopped, waiting for a response, his chest heaving while the red cleared from his vision after his tirade. He listened intently through the heavy silence that followed, finally breaking it himself.
“Well?” he began testily. “Jensen?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it just in time to see Jensen’s name and the length of the phone call begin flashing on the screen. Jensen had just hung up.
“Fuck!” Jared shouted, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth in frustration. He gripped the phone in his hand so tightly it nearly broke in his grasp, and he struggled hard to resist the urge to heave the tiny object across the room. Shit, he had a headache.
Harley and Sadie were whining and pawing at him, and he sighed heavily, rubbing at his temples before turning to fill their bowls with food and water. He couldn’t believe that Jensen had just put him through all this fear and misery just to haul ass back to Vancouver and go out for a fucking drink.
He cursed again under his breath, this time at himself, angry now that worry and guilt were creeping up on him. Why was he still so damn concerned? Why the hell should he start feeling bad about what he’d just said after all Jensen had put him through? Christ, with the way Jensen had treated him the past couple of months, he shouldn’t even be here.
“He wouldn’t even speak to his family.” The thought crept out from the recesses of Jared’s mind, and he groaned, raking his hands through his hair. “He called you. Remember how he sounded.”
“Fuck me,” Jared muttered aloud, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading for the door. The bar was close enough that he could walk, anyway. Jared couldn’t help but think that sometimes he was way too nice for his own good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared reached the Irish Heather in a matter of minutes, walking quickly through it to the private courtyard at the back which led to the bright red door of the Shebeen Whiskey House. The Shebeen was small and secluded, the bar built into the brick walls of an old nineteenth century coach house. Jensen had brought Jared here a number of times, mostly for its reputation as a well-stocked scotch bar. Taking a deep breath, Jared opened the door and entered the room, eyes quickly adjusting to the dimly lit area.
Jensen was easy to spot, one of the few figures hunched over on a barstool at this hour, his hair a little longer than usual, face unshaven. Jared watched from across the room as Jensen stared into his glass, dim red-rimmed eyes focused on it as if it were the last thing in the world he could really understand. Words Jared never would have used to describe Jensen before ran through his head: pale, thin, lonely, small, vulnerable, and scared. Guilt returned when he noticed Jensen occasionally glancing sorrowfully at the phone laying flat on top of the bar. He approached Jensen cautiously, gently laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Hey.”
As cautious and gentle as the touch was, Jensen jumped out of his seat, crying out in fear, his glass shattering on the floor. Jared stepped back, hands held up, palms outward, giving Jensen time and space to calm down. His stomach fluttered a bit with nerves at Jensen’s unexpected reaction.
“Jensen, relax. It’s okay. It’s just me.”
Jensen stared at him for a few seconds from where he was cowering against the bar, chest heaving with gasping breaths, hands shaking. When recognition finally dawned in his eyes, Jared swore he saw them fill with tears. Jensen turned away, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.
“You’re here,” he said, his voice shaky and quiet.
“Of course I am.” Jared stepped forward, discreetly nodding at the suspicious bartender and slipping her a wad of cash before gently resting his hands on Jensen’s arms, offering a small smile when his friend finally looked up at him, the mist suddenly gone from his eyes. “I said I would be, didn’t I?” Jensen slowly nodded at him, gaze sliding down to the floor.
“My…My glass.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jared said when Jensen began to reach for the shattered remains. His heart clenched when he heard the faraway, childlike tone of Jensen’s voice. “It’s taken care of.” He leaned down until he caught Jensen’s eye again. “You wanna tell me what happened?” Jensen hesitated, nervously licking his lips.
“Jared,” he began, pausing again and staring down at the floor, watching the liquid from his broken glass roll between his feet. “If I told you something…” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, and looked back up at Jared. “If I told you that something that happened on our show was happening to me…would you think I was crazy?”
Jensen stared up at him with a heartbreaking mixture of hope and fear; fear that Jared would reject him, tell him he’d gone insane, tell him no such thing was possible. Jared fought to keep his expression neutral and his mind open, willing to listen and consider whatever Jensen might tell him.
“No,” Jared said honestly, watching the tension slowly leave Jensen’s body, green eyes finally brightening and showing some relief. “No, I’d never think that. You can tell me anything.”
Jensen suddenly surged forward and pulled him into a bruising hug, and Jared simply responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s thin frame.
“I haven’t talked to anyone in so long,” Jensen said softly. Jared tightened his hold. “I was too fucking scared.” He hid his face against Jared’s shoulder in shame. “I felt so fucking stupid.”
“Talk to me,” Jared said, the commanding statement a bit of a contrast to the gentle circles he rubbed into his friend’s back. “I need to know what’s going on. You’re scaring me, man.”
“I can hear them, Jared,” Jensen said, licking his lips again as he slowly pulled back, his eyes nervously flicking around the room. “I can see them, too.” Jared shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his arms crossing over his chest.
“You can see who, Jensen?” he asked, concern building into dread.
“Not ‘who.’” Jensen shook his head, tension visibly building in his body and fear glowing in his eyes again as his voice wavered, “Hellhounds.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen stormed out of the bar, crossing the courtyard to the Irish Heather and heading back out to the street, Jared hot on his heels. Shaking his head, he whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at Jared.
“You said you would believe me!” he shouted. “You said you wouldn’t think I was crazy!”
“Keep your voice down!” Jared scalded, moving closer and pushing Jensen’s arm down. “I never said I didn’t believe you, but why the fuck would you be seeing Hellhounds, Jensen?”
“I don’t know!” Jensen shouted again, then closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to get himself under control. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I don’t know.” Jared suddenly grabbed him by the arm, and Jensen angrily shrugged him off.
“You didn’t make a deal, did you?” Jared asked, his tone flat and even, unsure of what to expect. Of the two of them, Jared had always been more willing to believe in the supernatural. It was incredibly unlikely for any of this to be real, but if it was…
“No!” Jensen gaped at him, head shaking back and forth. “God, no! You think I’m that goddamn stupid?”
“No, Jensen, I don’t,” Jared sighed, shoulders drooping.
“Christ!”
Jensen turned, taking a few short steps away from Jared, gently rubbing his temples. He paused and stiffened when he felt Jared’s fingers lightly wrap around his arm.
“You’re not stupid, Jensen,” Jared said, his voice laced with guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m not stupid.” Jensen’s body drooped, tired and defeated. “I’m just crazy. Right?” Jared opened his mouth and closed it, unsure of how to respond. “Why is this happening to me?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll help you.”
“Yeah,” Jensen laughed bitterly. “You mean you’ll get me help.”
“Jensen…” Jared stepped forward, into Jensen’s line of vision. “If that’s what you need…”
Jensen turned to look at Jared but his gaze slid further on, focusing on something behind Jared. His eyes widened in fear, and he stumbled backwards.
“Jensen?” Jared eyed him with concern. “Jensen, what is it?”
Jensen didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, gasping and choking on his words. With a fleeting glance at Jared, he turned and bolted, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name beneath a strangely familiar growl.
“Jensen!”
Just like that night at Gerard’s, Jensen could hear Jared, but his voice was easy to ignore, the growl much more intense now than ever. He could see the Hellhound clearly, looking very much as Sam had described, a “demonic pit bull.” He wasn’t even wearing his contacts, having dealt with blurry vision for quite some time now, even choosing to set a specific ringtone for Jared, so that he wouldn’t have to use his glasses to be able to tell when his friend was calling him. Feeling that the large black animal was close behind him, ready to attack this time, he ran without paying attention to any of his surroundings, knowing that he simply had to get away.
“Jensen, stop! Please!”
It happened so fast. He wasn’t even aware that he’d begun crossing a two lane street. With the growl roaring in his ears, he almost didn’t hear the blaring horn and screeching of brakes to his right. He was shocked by the vehicle that seemed to suddenly materialize out of thin air, nearly on top of him. A sharp cry escaped his mouth as he stumbled, the metal of the car’s grille just touching his legs. His body turned, trying to right itself, and he ended up facing the car and dropping forward, his palms braced flat on the hood. He was vaguely aware of Jared’s panicked scream, his gaze briefly passing over the blurred shape of the driver before he collected himself and began running again.
Jensen began frantically searching his pockets as he ran, his speed lagging a bit, giving Jared time to catch up to him. Catching a glance of fear from Jensen, who turned briefly to see him catching up, Jared drew closer and lunged forward, tackling his best friend to the ground and trying to soften the fall as best he could, which wasn’t much. Still, the fall didn’t exactly throw Jensen off. Jared struggled to keep him still, wrestling on the ground as Jensen fought violently beneath him.
“No! No! Let me go! Fuck, Jared, let me go! Please, God…”
Jensen was damn near hysterical, and Jared looked around, thankful that they’d happened down a fairly deserted side street. He managed to block a right hook Jensen threw at him from below, completely taken aback by his friend actually taking a swing at him. He’d never physically fought Jensen, and hoped he never would. But here he was, Jensen’s left fist suddenly connecting with his cheekbone. He did his best to ignore the pain, using his own size and strength to his advantage and pinning Jensen’s biceps to the ground. Jensen immediately gripped Jared’s forearms, using them as leverage to thrust a knee up towards Jared’s body. Jared groaned loudly in pain when that knee hit just shy of his groin, crashing into his inner thigh instead. He briefly closed his eyes, feeling Jensen still struggling beneath him, almost pulling free. Jared willed the stars in his front of his eyes to fade, quickly rolling into a better position to fully pin Jensen’s entire body, using all of his remaining strength to keep Jensen in place as he struggled. Looking down, he noticed that Jensen now had a small leather pouch clutched in his hand.
“What is that?” Jared asked breathlessly, leaning closer. “Isn’t that a prop?” He pulled back, staring down at Jensen in disbelief. “You’re stealing from set now?”
“I need it,” Jensen choked out, a few panicked tears escaping his eyes. “Jared, they’re after me. You have to let me go.”
“Jensen.” Jared looked down at him sympathetically. Fear was growing inside of him. What if Jensen really had lost his mind? “Man, they’re not after you. Please, just calm-”
Jensen’s expression suddenly changed from fear to agony, his head thrown back against the pavement as he screamed in pain. Jared jolted in surprise, loosening his grip on Jensen, and looked down just in time to see phantom claws raking through the denim covering Jensen’s leg, blood pouring through the jagged openings.
“Help me,” Jensen sobbed, Jared’s head snapping back up to look at him. “Jared, please, don’t let me die.”
“Fuck!” Jared cursed, his heart pounding in his chest. As quickly as he could, he got up, hauling Jensen to his feet, and began running, pulling Jensen along behind him. He could hear Jensen laboring behind him, and had to fight to run through his own pain, his leg throbbing where Jensen had kneed him. “Keep going,” Jared urged, knowing how badly Jensen was hurting, “Just keep going!”
“Where?” Jensen gasped. “Jared, where?”
“My house,” Jared panted, quickly reaching back and grabbing the leather pouch out of Jensen’s hand, suddenly realizing what it was for, “Not far.”
They were both tiring, Jared could feel it. But his heart leapt when they turned a corner and caught sight of his house. He found a new burst of energy, and pulled Jensen on. Cursing and fighting with his keys when they got to the front door, he finally pulled it open and pushed Jensen inside. Slamming the door behind them, Jared spun around and opened the pouch, dumping a portion of its contents along the bottom of the door.
Chapter 2: Blood and Dust