Hunter and Hunted: Part 12/?
Title: The Hunter and the Hunted 12/?
Part 12: “Beware of Pretty Faces”
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Rated: PG for M/M interaction
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek
Spoilers: none
Warning: Slash
Word count: 4,327
Beta by the fabulous <"lj user="sharonmarais">
Disclaimer: Dean and his family belong to Eric Kripke and Supernatural, and Alex belongs to Chris Carter and the X-Files. We own nothing. We are doing this for love and not money.
Author’s notes: Alex has been taken from the hospital by Consortium operatives. Dean has not been able to find him again and much time has passed. When John Winchester goes missing, Dean went to find Sam at college, and now they are looking for their father together.
The quoted song is “Secret Agent Man,” by Johnny Rivers.
Part 11
Part 10
Part 9
Part 8
Part 7
Part 6
Part 5
Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1
Beware of pretty faces that you find
A pretty face can hide an evil mind
Ah, be careful what you say
Or you'll give yourself away
Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow
Much time had passed since that dreadful day in Dean's life.
Upon returning the following morning to the hospital, he'd found that Alex was gone. No one could tell him what had happened; no one seemed to know. He'd searched for days - weeks in fact - but had got nowhere. He could find no leads. It was as if Alex had vanished into thin air; there was nothing. Someone working at the hospital had told him that Alex must have gotten up and left on his own, and Dean's heart had sunk to his boots. He couldn't bring himself to believe that the man who had admitted he loved Dean only the night before would have just walked away; it simply didn’t make sense.
When he'd tried to call the number Alex had used for the Lone Gunmen, it had been disconnected. The trail was cold for that lead too - a dead end, and that had made things even worse for Dean; He'd reluctantly come to the conclusion that Alex had indeed walked out. There was still a glimmer of hope left to him, although as each day, week, month and finally year, passed by, even that little glimmer faded into memory and became the past, yet one more thing that would never be for Dean Winchester.
Dean moved on. He hooked back up with his father for a while, but did more gigs on his own, traveling all over the country, merely meeting up with Dad once in a while. Then the thing that Dean dreaded most had happened, his father had suddenly gone missing, simply leaving a message on Dean's phone. Dean felt those same feelings of isolation and inadequacy all over again. He'd been abandoned. Everyone in his life had left him. First it had been Sam, who had set off for University without giving him a second thought, then the woman he loved had sent him on his way, laughing at him for the life he led. Alex Krycek had vanished as if he'd never been, and now it was his father who'd disappeared.
Dean was almost ready to give up. However, giving up was not in Dean's nature. It was a measure of how desperate he was that, having decided he did not want to do this alone, he went to pick up his brother from Stanford where he'd spent the last four years. Reluctant as Sam was, making Dean understand their liaison was only temporary, the two started to search for John Winchester. Then things for Sam turned downhill fast when his girlfriend was killed in the same terrible fashion as their mother had been.
Sam had stayed with Dean, searching for their father. Deep inside, Dean was happy that Sam hadn't instantly headed back to Stanford, though he felt it was only because Sam wanted to find Jessica's killer, and not because of him or his father, but Dean didn't care. He'd learned to take what he could get, and he was more comfortable knowing that his role was once more that of protector - protecting his brother. It had caused a pang inside him, because he had also promised Alex he would take care of him, and yet... Deep down inside, the young ghost hunter knew that, if Alex hadn't left the hospital of his own free will, he had failed him.
They'd stopped at a gas station, Dean was leaning against the back of his Impala, staring off into nothingness, though it appeared as if he was looking at the two lane blacktop that stretched out behind him. His arms were crossed over his chest while he listened to the old gas pump chiming off the gallons as the Impala drank. For some reason on this day Dean was thinking of Alex. He hadn't thought about him in over a couple of years, but now he suddenly found himself wondering what Alex was doing. Who he was with now? Was he okay. Was he... happy? Dean was sure Alex was... or he would have tried to contact him by now. More than likely the man hadn't really cared. His words had been just that, words and nothing more.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Alex had not wanted to come to Bellefleur, not wanted to shadow Fox Mulder, and was chafing at the bit to be gone once more, knowing that the Smoker was manipulating him yet again and hating the fact that he was allowing it to happen. He'd found the ship, found the evidence of alien presence, and was all in favor of blowing the thing up while it was still on the ground. He wondered why he didn't just take his carefully hidden funds and go live in Mexico, or Bali, or maybe Tibet.
He pulled in to the elderly dilapidated gas station that was on the outskirts of the little town, and emerged from his rental car to fill up. There was a black 67 Impala at the pump, and a long, lean guy filling it, hair blowing in his eyes as he wielded the hose. A lump came to Alex's throat as he recalled the brief interlude he'd spent in such a vehicle so many years ago. He'd never found Dean again. First he'd been imprisoned, interrogated, and then hauled off to Russia by his nemesis, the Federal Agent Fox Mulder. By the time he'd been free to search, the trail was cold, and Alex had lost his arm, lost his chance at freedom, and lost the remains of his self respect.
Walking around his car to take the gas nozzle to the tank, Alex stopped short. There, slouching against the trunk of the car he'd noticed, was a familiar figure.
"Dean," he breathed, his voice harsh. "Oh, my God! Is it you?"
Dean hadn't paid too much attention to the other car pulling up. He hadn't bothered to turn his head at the sound of the door opening, or the person who was getting out. He finally cast a quick glance over at the figure as it moved around behind the pump but he hadn't identified the person who was bent over filling the car, so it came as a shock when he heard a voice he knew, saying his name. Dean's head slowly turned, arms uncrossing as he pushed from the back of his car. He blinked, incredulous, and he felt his insides tighten.
Oh God. It was Alex! After all this time it was him. He was looking a little older. Better dressed. Dean swallowed hard, not sure if he should smile or punch the man. With another blink, a shift of his body, he set about trying to act as if it was nothing to him, but it seemed to him that it was almost impossible to hide the trembling within him. "Uh, hey," he began. "Long time, no see." Dean looked back at Sam, who had finished gassing up the car and was now tucking the pump back into its slot, suddenly he felt a little uncomfortable. "Uh, Sam, this is Alex Krycek, old friend, Sam... Alex."
With introductions out of the way, he felt it was time to start asking questions. "What're you doing in this neck of the woods?"
"I... I'm on assignment." Alex flushed. Dean knew about what he did, but it had been so long ago, and Dean's lanky companion - brother, he corrected himself - didn't know a thing about him, that was obvious. He spoke quickly, hoping to be heard before he was shunned. "Dean, I was taken from the hospital that night. They surprised me - they drugged me and smuggled me out of the hospital. It was a long time later, before I could even start to look for you, but I did. I tried so hard to find you. I even put ads in some of the papers where I thought you might look. I had them run ads in the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. Guess you never saw them."
Alex wanted to put his arm around Dean and kiss him breathless, but there was Sam standing there glowering, and somehow Dean's attitude had changed, and Alex couldn't blame him one little bit. "I never stopped looking. Guess I'd make a really lousy detective."
Dean gave a nonchalant shrug, not sure if this was just another story Alex was putting out. Dean had never seen any ads, and he had to question if the man had even tried to do the things he was saying. He was sure that if his father had seen them, he would have said something. "It happens, I guess," he murmured, dismissing the topic as though bored. He turned, digging in his pocket and handing Sam the credit card. "Here you go, bro." He shoved his wallet back into the pocket of the leather jacket that had once belonged to his father.
"Well, looks like things are better for you, doesn't it?" he was keeping his distance, keeping the pumps between them as though they were a shield. "We're... um, passing through."
Why the hell didn't you call? Dean wanted to shout to him. In the end, he said, "Got a gig to take a look at." He wasn't going to tell Alex they were looking for their father.
Walking around to lean in the car, he pulled out a scrap receipt and a pen, jotting his number on it. "Call me when you're... done with your... assignment." He handed it over, his own fingers brushing Alex's, which sent a tingle through him. He quickly pulled away. "Sorry, can't stay and talk." He walked around to the driver's side, putting the car between him and his former lover. "I'll... see you around."
Maybe.
Sam returned and got into the car. Dean gave Alex one last look, and then climbed into the car himself, turning the stereo up loud. Then the black Impala pulled away, leaving Alex behind, and, Dean felt, his heart too, even though he'd tried to play it down.
Figures I'd only get one chance at happiness, thought Alex, looking at the paper in his hand. Swiftly he programmed Dean's number into his phone so that he would have it safe, and then tucked the paper into his pocket for good measure. Dean had looked good, although there was a lost look in his eyes that hadn't been there when they'd been together before.
"Damned if I'm gonna lose you again, now that I've found you." Alex was determined in that instant that he was going to finally break free of the Consortium, and the only way he could possibly do that would be by killing the evil snake-in-the-grass who was the mastermind behind the shadow organization. First he'd put an end to C. G. B. Spender, and then he'd find Dean and they'd have a chance at happiness at last.
Flipping open his phone, he dialed Marita. "Plans have changed. I'm coming back to DC. There's something I've been putting off for far too long."
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Walking away from the limp figure on the ground was easy. Alex stepped over his nemesis, left Spender's apartment and made his way to a nearby park, then he flipped open his phone and dialed. The number seemed to take way too long to connect, and Alex felt a cold sinking feeling as he waited. Was Dean's number still good, or had he had second thoughts after driving away?
When Dean finally answered, the relief flooded through him trickling down and turning his bones to water. "Hi, Dean, it's Alex. Are you busy?"
Dean had been batting at Sam's hands as his brother tried manfully to dress his wounds. "Get off me, let me get the phone." He groped around, searching for it as Sam interfered just enough to cause the thing to slip through his fingers before he could answer it. It was only just before it could switch to voice mail, that Dean finally got his phone flipped open. He hesitated a moment, "Hey, um... no, not busy. What's up?" He tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice not only because he wanted to appear cool and protect his own heart, but also to keep Sam from knowing.
"Oh, thank God." Alex's voice broke. "I was scared that you'd maybe changed your mind, and I'd lost you again." He gave a sigh that was audible, even over the phone. "I missed you, Dean. I've wished I could find you so often. Do you... can we meet? I need to see you again. Please say we can get together?"
"Sure, I'd... like that." Dean grabbed his shirt. That sigh had tied Dean's gut up in knots. He was aching - with relief or excitement he couldn't decide. He cleared his throat, telling Alex to meet him at a bar outside of town. "My brother and I will be in town for a few days. I'm sure I can squeeze you in. See you then." Dean hung up his phone and sat twitching. The thought of seeing Alex again the next day had him feeling nervous. More than nervous in fact. It would take all his energy and willpower to lie to his brother so that he could go out on his own, especially since Sam seemed to be determined to cluck over him like some mother hen.
"Damned right you'll squeeze me in," whispered Alex, slowly putting his own phone back into his pocket. Colorado. He had to get to Colorado as soon as he could. Swiftly heading back to his car, Alex headed for the airport.
Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado was the armpit of the universe, Alex thought, as he finally drove into the little township. He first checked into the local motel, looking around as he did so for signs of the Impala, although right then it wasn't visible. Once he'd unpacked and checked his watch, he headed out to the bar that Dean had nominated and settled down to wait for him.
He'd ordered a beer, and it occurred to him that he should probably call Dean to let him know that he was waiting, but when he dialed the number he had to leave a message. "Okay, Dean, I'm here and waiting for you. I can't wait to see you again." After that there seemed to be nothing else to say, so he sat back to await what might come.
Dean and Sam had spent a couple of days recovering. Sam was doing research on their next gig, although he wasn't finding much, either in the papers or online. Instead, he was spending his time surreptitiously answering emails from his college pals and hoping that Dean wouldn't catch on, and he was also starting to get a bit antsy that nothing was coming up to give them a clue to their father's whereabouts as he searched through database after database.
The trail was getting cold.
Leaning back against the headboard, gloomily examining his bandages, Dean felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out, checking the number and seeing that it wasn't one he knew. He let it go to voicemail and then idly dialed in to check it. Of all things, he was surprised to hear the voice that had been recorded. He hadn't expected Alex to call at all, let alone take him up on his offer and come to him. When Dean shut off his phone, he was a little stunned.
Pushing up off the bed, Dean grabbed his worn, leather jacket, "I'm heading out for a while. You gonna be okay here by yourself? Want me to get your teddy bear?" He asked, grabbing his keys.
"Where you going?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother with a questioning look.
"Out." Dean answered.
"Yeah, out where?"
"Okay, twenty questions, I'm gonna go out and get a drink, maybe make us some money. Wanna come along?" Dean offered, hoping he wouldn't accept.
Sam just stared at his brother then shook his head, "No thanks. Last thing I want to do tonight is watch you throw out your cheap pick-up lines."
"They aren't cheap. They work. You're just jealous." Dean smirked as he headed out of the door.
Sam didn't answer, he merely raised his middle finger and watched his brother leave before turning back to his laptop.
Dean clambered behind the wheel of the Impala and used all his control not to break the speed limit to reach the person who was waiting for him. Upon arriving, he remained sitting for a long moment, gathering himself and trying to calm down. It was just a meeting. Nothing more. Just talking. Dean was sure Alex had moved on. Finally he got out of the car.
Casually walking into the bar, Dean looked around, trying to locate his target. There he was, sitting there, drinking a beer. Dean looked away, and went over to the bar. He smiled at the bartender, ordered a beer and even took a moment while waiting to flirt with the girl next to him. He gave one of his laughs before taking his beer and heading over to the table where Alex was waiting.
Dean slid into the seat across from Alex and leaned back, nonchalantly taking a drink and attempting to look as though he just didn't care.
The closed and guarded young man who sat down opposite to Alex was a shock to him. He hadn't thought that this was going to be easy, but he'd forgotten just how defensive Dean was. He took a deep breath and pulled a page from a newspaper out of his pocket. "I kept them, see." he murmured. He'd circled the ad that he'd run, which simply said, 'Dean, Alex would like to go hunting sirens again,' and gave a box number to contact. "I ran this for weeks - until they noticed where I was getting the money from and froze that account. God, Dean, I thought I'd never see you again."
He laid the paper on the table between them and picked up his beer, shrugging lopsidedly. "I think I did pretty much everything I could think of to find you. I even went to Stanford, but I didn't know what classes your brother was taking. I guess we were too busy to share that much information." He reached to touch Dean's arm as if wanting to verify that he was really here. "I missed you so much."
Dean looked down at the paper clippings, leaning forward to read without touching them. "Online dating services weren't working out huh?"
He leaned back, looking up at Alex, trying to gauge his feelings before looking away. This wasn't at all easy for him. "When I came back that morning, you were gone. Not a sign. I asked around, tried to get surveillance tapes; I spent weeks searching but... your guys are good. I even called that number your geeky friends had, but it had been disconnected." He took another drink, more to give himself something to do than because he was thirsty.
Silent for a long moment, he finally made a face and turned his head away. "You left me like everyone else has. But hey," he said quickly after a beat, "It's okay. Time to move on. So what'cha been up to?"
"You think I just left you?" Alex sounded bitter. "They shot me full of dope and took me away. I was kept drugged up and interrogated for months and then dumped in the middle of rural Michigan. I found a group of white supremacists who had me working with them for a few days and then, just when I'd arranged to get away from them, Mulder caught me and dragged me with him off to Russia, chasing fucking aliens." He gave a derisive laugh. "Well, he found them, I'll say that much. I... the whole journey was hell, and I... don't think you'll much care for me now. They ruined me."
Alex hung his head, wanting to tell Dean about the loss of his arm, but not quite sure how to say it. In the end he merely shrugged his lop-sided gesture again and reached for his beer, his left arm dangling uselessly. "By the time I was fit again after Russia, there was no way I could remember your number. That's when I put the ads in the paper."
Dean tried not to feel anything. The story sounded true enough. Alex, as far as he knew, hadn't lied to him in the past, but time had passed; they had both changed. He tipped his head a little, studying Alex as if trying to read the man. He noticed that Alex wasn't using his arm, and he furrowed his brow as green eyes were raised to stare into a pair that was just like them.
"Mulder, huh... I'd ask if you had a pleasant trip, but that seems kind of obvious." Dean took another drink. "What happened to your arm? And..." Dean looked down at his beer bottle, picking at the label with his thumbnail, "And if you wanted to get away from them... why didn't you just leave, walk away. How many chances did you have after...?" Dean looked away, turning his head out towards the bar. "Whenever I would hit a town, some out of the way place, for months, a year even, I would ask around, use the police database." He swung round suddenly, bringing his piercing gaze back to Alex.
"Dad told me to give up. He said men like you... have these patterns. Patterns you get so set in you can't and won't ever escape from them. You don't want to. You may say you do, but you never try. Not really. He also said it was in your best interests. Was better for you. Better for me. Attachments... in our line of work... not a good thing. Can get hurt. He was right..." Dean nodded, looking down at his beer and wrinkled his face a little, "But all I could think about was... you were out there... alone. Scared. I made a promise to you and..." He swallowed hard. "... Hey, all in all... you seem to be doing well. Better clothes than the shit I bought you at Wal-Mart, huh?"
"What do you do, when nothing matters to you any more, Dean?" Alex looked down at his hand, carefully avoiding Dean's eyes. "You just keep going, because it's either that or die, and eventually you make a mistake that kills you, don't you?" There was a brief, uncomfortable moment when the two of them sat staring into their drinks, and then Alex said softly, "Losing you was painful. I didn't care any more, and I got stupid. You want to know what's wrong with my arm? I don't have an arm any more. They cut it off."
He sighed. "I guess you could say that I'm doing well. I'm much more adept at stealing what I need, anyway." He reached out to Dean for a moment, and then dropped his hand with a sigh. "I never stopped loving you. I don't have anyone else, and I don't suppose I ever will. I guess it was naive of me to think we could just take up where we left off, wasn't it?"
Dean swallowed hard. His arm had been cut OFF? Shit! Dean felt anger welling up in him for what had been done to this man who had been his lover. For putting him through whatever trials he'd had to suffer, and for what? This? Alex looked empty - a mere shell of the man he once was.
Daring at last, Dean reached out, snagging Alex's hand, fingers curling around his wrist and dragging back so their palms were together. "You know we can't," he answered softly. "I never stopped loving you either, Alexei. And you aren't alone in not having anyone else." He sighed softly. "Dad, he ditched me not too long ago. I knew it would only be a matter of time, but Sam is... he... I dragged him along to search for dad."
Dean looked at Alex. "I'm sorry." The words were whispered, almost inaudible.
"Yeah, yeah." Alex swallowed, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Wouldn't want your little brother to know that you..." He paused, clutched at Dean's hand for a moment, then released it, pushing to his feet. "I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you, Dean. Have a good life and stay safe, won't you?"
He wanted to bend and kiss Dean. He wanted to scream at him that they had to be together. Instead, he lifted his right hand in a mixture of blessing and farewell and turned to go.
Dean blinked. He swallowed for a moment, then turned to watch the retreating form of his former lover. Something inside him snapped. He shoved out of the booth, got to his feet quickly and surged out after Alex. Once he reached the open, he unleashed his anger.
His hand slapped upon Alex's shoulder and forced the man to stop. "What? Just like that, you're gonna walk out on me again?! Just leave me sitting there, after all you said? You fucking selfish bastard. You're just like my brother. Just like my father. All you guys do is think of yourselves."
Dean backed away, hurt showing clearly on his face. "Fine. You want to walk out. Then at least take this with you." He reached out, jerked the man to him by the collar of his jacket and kissed him, long, deep and hard. He finally pulled back, gasping for air and slowly released Alex. "That's a goodbye."
There was a long beat between them, before he spoke again. "But I don't want to say goodbye."
Alex stood, stunned. He felt shivery and light-headed. For a moment he just gazed at Dean, and then he spoke.
"I don't either."
Part 12: “Beware of Pretty Faces”
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Rated: PG for M/M interaction
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek
Spoilers: none
Warning: Slash
Word count: 4,327
Beta by the fabulous <"lj user="sharonmarais">
Disclaimer: Dean and his family belong to Eric Kripke and Supernatural, and Alex belongs to Chris Carter and the X-Files. We own nothing. We are doing this for love and not money.
Author’s notes: Alex has been taken from the hospital by Consortium operatives. Dean has not been able to find him again and much time has passed. When John Winchester goes missing, Dean went to find Sam at college, and now they are looking for their father together.
The quoted song is “Secret Agent Man,” by Johnny Rivers.
Part 11
Part 10
Part 9
Part 8
Part 7
Part 6
Part 5
Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1
Beware of pretty faces that you find
A pretty face can hide an evil mind
Ah, be careful what you say
Or you'll give yourself away
Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow
Much time had passed since that dreadful day in Dean's life.
Upon returning the following morning to the hospital, he'd found that Alex was gone. No one could tell him what had happened; no one seemed to know. He'd searched for days - weeks in fact - but had got nowhere. He could find no leads. It was as if Alex had vanished into thin air; there was nothing. Someone working at the hospital had told him that Alex must have gotten up and left on his own, and Dean's heart had sunk to his boots. He couldn't bring himself to believe that the man who had admitted he loved Dean only the night before would have just walked away; it simply didn’t make sense.
When he'd tried to call the number Alex had used for the Lone Gunmen, it had been disconnected. The trail was cold for that lead too - a dead end, and that had made things even worse for Dean; He'd reluctantly come to the conclusion that Alex had indeed walked out. There was still a glimmer of hope left to him, although as each day, week, month and finally year, passed by, even that little glimmer faded into memory and became the past, yet one more thing that would never be for Dean Winchester.
Dean moved on. He hooked back up with his father for a while, but did more gigs on his own, traveling all over the country, merely meeting up with Dad once in a while. Then the thing that Dean dreaded most had happened, his father had suddenly gone missing, simply leaving a message on Dean's phone. Dean felt those same feelings of isolation and inadequacy all over again. He'd been abandoned. Everyone in his life had left him. First it had been Sam, who had set off for University without giving him a second thought, then the woman he loved had sent him on his way, laughing at him for the life he led. Alex Krycek had vanished as if he'd never been, and now it was his father who'd disappeared.
Dean was almost ready to give up. However, giving up was not in Dean's nature. It was a measure of how desperate he was that, having decided he did not want to do this alone, he went to pick up his brother from Stanford where he'd spent the last four years. Reluctant as Sam was, making Dean understand their liaison was only temporary, the two started to search for John Winchester. Then things for Sam turned downhill fast when his girlfriend was killed in the same terrible fashion as their mother had been.
Sam had stayed with Dean, searching for their father. Deep inside, Dean was happy that Sam hadn't instantly headed back to Stanford, though he felt it was only because Sam wanted to find Jessica's killer, and not because of him or his father, but Dean didn't care. He'd learned to take what he could get, and he was more comfortable knowing that his role was once more that of protector - protecting his brother. It had caused a pang inside him, because he had also promised Alex he would take care of him, and yet... Deep down inside, the young ghost hunter knew that, if Alex hadn't left the hospital of his own free will, he had failed him.
They'd stopped at a gas station, Dean was leaning against the back of his Impala, staring off into nothingness, though it appeared as if he was looking at the two lane blacktop that stretched out behind him. His arms were crossed over his chest while he listened to the old gas pump chiming off the gallons as the Impala drank. For some reason on this day Dean was thinking of Alex. He hadn't thought about him in over a couple of years, but now he suddenly found himself wondering what Alex was doing. Who he was with now? Was he okay. Was he... happy? Dean was sure Alex was... or he would have tried to contact him by now. More than likely the man hadn't really cared. His words had been just that, words and nothing more.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Alex had not wanted to come to Bellefleur, not wanted to shadow Fox Mulder, and was chafing at the bit to be gone once more, knowing that the Smoker was manipulating him yet again and hating the fact that he was allowing it to happen. He'd found the ship, found the evidence of alien presence, and was all in favor of blowing the thing up while it was still on the ground. He wondered why he didn't just take his carefully hidden funds and go live in Mexico, or Bali, or maybe Tibet.
He pulled in to the elderly dilapidated gas station that was on the outskirts of the little town, and emerged from his rental car to fill up. There was a black 67 Impala at the pump, and a long, lean guy filling it, hair blowing in his eyes as he wielded the hose. A lump came to Alex's throat as he recalled the brief interlude he'd spent in such a vehicle so many years ago. He'd never found Dean again. First he'd been imprisoned, interrogated, and then hauled off to Russia by his nemesis, the Federal Agent Fox Mulder. By the time he'd been free to search, the trail was cold, and Alex had lost his arm, lost his chance at freedom, and lost the remains of his self respect.
Walking around his car to take the gas nozzle to the tank, Alex stopped short. There, slouching against the trunk of the car he'd noticed, was a familiar figure.
"Dean," he breathed, his voice harsh. "Oh, my God! Is it you?"
Dean hadn't paid too much attention to the other car pulling up. He hadn't bothered to turn his head at the sound of the door opening, or the person who was getting out. He finally cast a quick glance over at the figure as it moved around behind the pump but he hadn't identified the person who was bent over filling the car, so it came as a shock when he heard a voice he knew, saying his name. Dean's head slowly turned, arms uncrossing as he pushed from the back of his car. He blinked, incredulous, and he felt his insides tighten.
Oh God. It was Alex! After all this time it was him. He was looking a little older. Better dressed. Dean swallowed hard, not sure if he should smile or punch the man. With another blink, a shift of his body, he set about trying to act as if it was nothing to him, but it seemed to him that it was almost impossible to hide the trembling within him. "Uh, hey," he began. "Long time, no see." Dean looked back at Sam, who had finished gassing up the car and was now tucking the pump back into its slot, suddenly he felt a little uncomfortable. "Uh, Sam, this is Alex Krycek, old friend, Sam... Alex."
With introductions out of the way, he felt it was time to start asking questions. "What're you doing in this neck of the woods?"
"I... I'm on assignment." Alex flushed. Dean knew about what he did, but it had been so long ago, and Dean's lanky companion - brother, he corrected himself - didn't know a thing about him, that was obvious. He spoke quickly, hoping to be heard before he was shunned. "Dean, I was taken from the hospital that night. They surprised me - they drugged me and smuggled me out of the hospital. It was a long time later, before I could even start to look for you, but I did. I tried so hard to find you. I even put ads in some of the papers where I thought you might look. I had them run ads in the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. Guess you never saw them."
Alex wanted to put his arm around Dean and kiss him breathless, but there was Sam standing there glowering, and somehow Dean's attitude had changed, and Alex couldn't blame him one little bit. "I never stopped looking. Guess I'd make a really lousy detective."
Dean gave a nonchalant shrug, not sure if this was just another story Alex was putting out. Dean had never seen any ads, and he had to question if the man had even tried to do the things he was saying. He was sure that if his father had seen them, he would have said something. "It happens, I guess," he murmured, dismissing the topic as though bored. He turned, digging in his pocket and handing Sam the credit card. "Here you go, bro." He shoved his wallet back into the pocket of the leather jacket that had once belonged to his father.
"Well, looks like things are better for you, doesn't it?" he was keeping his distance, keeping the pumps between them as though they were a shield. "We're... um, passing through."
Why the hell didn't you call? Dean wanted to shout to him. In the end, he said, "Got a gig to take a look at." He wasn't going to tell Alex they were looking for their father.
Walking around to lean in the car, he pulled out a scrap receipt and a pen, jotting his number on it. "Call me when you're... done with your... assignment." He handed it over, his own fingers brushing Alex's, which sent a tingle through him. He quickly pulled away. "Sorry, can't stay and talk." He walked around to the driver's side, putting the car between him and his former lover. "I'll... see you around."
Maybe.
Sam returned and got into the car. Dean gave Alex one last look, and then climbed into the car himself, turning the stereo up loud. Then the black Impala pulled away, leaving Alex behind, and, Dean felt, his heart too, even though he'd tried to play it down.
Figures I'd only get one chance at happiness, thought Alex, looking at the paper in his hand. Swiftly he programmed Dean's number into his phone so that he would have it safe, and then tucked the paper into his pocket for good measure. Dean had looked good, although there was a lost look in his eyes that hadn't been there when they'd been together before.
"Damned if I'm gonna lose you again, now that I've found you." Alex was determined in that instant that he was going to finally break free of the Consortium, and the only way he could possibly do that would be by killing the evil snake-in-the-grass who was the mastermind behind the shadow organization. First he'd put an end to C. G. B. Spender, and then he'd find Dean and they'd have a chance at happiness at last.
Flipping open his phone, he dialed Marita. "Plans have changed. I'm coming back to DC. There's something I've been putting off for far too long."
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Walking away from the limp figure on the ground was easy. Alex stepped over his nemesis, left Spender's apartment and made his way to a nearby park, then he flipped open his phone and dialed. The number seemed to take way too long to connect, and Alex felt a cold sinking feeling as he waited. Was Dean's number still good, or had he had second thoughts after driving away?
When Dean finally answered, the relief flooded through him trickling down and turning his bones to water. "Hi, Dean, it's Alex. Are you busy?"
Dean had been batting at Sam's hands as his brother tried manfully to dress his wounds. "Get off me, let me get the phone." He groped around, searching for it as Sam interfered just enough to cause the thing to slip through his fingers before he could answer it. It was only just before it could switch to voice mail, that Dean finally got his phone flipped open. He hesitated a moment, "Hey, um... no, not busy. What's up?" He tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice not only because he wanted to appear cool and protect his own heart, but also to keep Sam from knowing.
"Oh, thank God." Alex's voice broke. "I was scared that you'd maybe changed your mind, and I'd lost you again." He gave a sigh that was audible, even over the phone. "I missed you, Dean. I've wished I could find you so often. Do you... can we meet? I need to see you again. Please say we can get together?"
"Sure, I'd... like that." Dean grabbed his shirt. That sigh had tied Dean's gut up in knots. He was aching - with relief or excitement he couldn't decide. He cleared his throat, telling Alex to meet him at a bar outside of town. "My brother and I will be in town for a few days. I'm sure I can squeeze you in. See you then." Dean hung up his phone and sat twitching. The thought of seeing Alex again the next day had him feeling nervous. More than nervous in fact. It would take all his energy and willpower to lie to his brother so that he could go out on his own, especially since Sam seemed to be determined to cluck over him like some mother hen.
"Damned right you'll squeeze me in," whispered Alex, slowly putting his own phone back into his pocket. Colorado. He had to get to Colorado as soon as he could. Swiftly heading back to his car, Alex headed for the airport.
Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado was the armpit of the universe, Alex thought, as he finally drove into the little township. He first checked into the local motel, looking around as he did so for signs of the Impala, although right then it wasn't visible. Once he'd unpacked and checked his watch, he headed out to the bar that Dean had nominated and settled down to wait for him.
He'd ordered a beer, and it occurred to him that he should probably call Dean to let him know that he was waiting, but when he dialed the number he had to leave a message. "Okay, Dean, I'm here and waiting for you. I can't wait to see you again." After that there seemed to be nothing else to say, so he sat back to await what might come.
Dean and Sam had spent a couple of days recovering. Sam was doing research on their next gig, although he wasn't finding much, either in the papers or online. Instead, he was spending his time surreptitiously answering emails from his college pals and hoping that Dean wouldn't catch on, and he was also starting to get a bit antsy that nothing was coming up to give them a clue to their father's whereabouts as he searched through database after database.
The trail was getting cold.
Leaning back against the headboard, gloomily examining his bandages, Dean felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out, checking the number and seeing that it wasn't one he knew. He let it go to voicemail and then idly dialed in to check it. Of all things, he was surprised to hear the voice that had been recorded. He hadn't expected Alex to call at all, let alone take him up on his offer and come to him. When Dean shut off his phone, he was a little stunned.
Pushing up off the bed, Dean grabbed his worn, leather jacket, "I'm heading out for a while. You gonna be okay here by yourself? Want me to get your teddy bear?" He asked, grabbing his keys.
"Where you going?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother with a questioning look.
"Out." Dean answered.
"Yeah, out where?"
"Okay, twenty questions, I'm gonna go out and get a drink, maybe make us some money. Wanna come along?" Dean offered, hoping he wouldn't accept.
Sam just stared at his brother then shook his head, "No thanks. Last thing I want to do tonight is watch you throw out your cheap pick-up lines."
"They aren't cheap. They work. You're just jealous." Dean smirked as he headed out of the door.
Sam didn't answer, he merely raised his middle finger and watched his brother leave before turning back to his laptop.
Dean clambered behind the wheel of the Impala and used all his control not to break the speed limit to reach the person who was waiting for him. Upon arriving, he remained sitting for a long moment, gathering himself and trying to calm down. It was just a meeting. Nothing more. Just talking. Dean was sure Alex had moved on. Finally he got out of the car.
Casually walking into the bar, Dean looked around, trying to locate his target. There he was, sitting there, drinking a beer. Dean looked away, and went over to the bar. He smiled at the bartender, ordered a beer and even took a moment while waiting to flirt with the girl next to him. He gave one of his laughs before taking his beer and heading over to the table where Alex was waiting.
Dean slid into the seat across from Alex and leaned back, nonchalantly taking a drink and attempting to look as though he just didn't care.
The closed and guarded young man who sat down opposite to Alex was a shock to him. He hadn't thought that this was going to be easy, but he'd forgotten just how defensive Dean was. He took a deep breath and pulled a page from a newspaper out of his pocket. "I kept them, see." he murmured. He'd circled the ad that he'd run, which simply said, 'Dean, Alex would like to go hunting sirens again,' and gave a box number to contact. "I ran this for weeks - until they noticed where I was getting the money from and froze that account. God, Dean, I thought I'd never see you again."
He laid the paper on the table between them and picked up his beer, shrugging lopsidedly. "I think I did pretty much everything I could think of to find you. I even went to Stanford, but I didn't know what classes your brother was taking. I guess we were too busy to share that much information." He reached to touch Dean's arm as if wanting to verify that he was really here. "I missed you so much."
Dean looked down at the paper clippings, leaning forward to read without touching them. "Online dating services weren't working out huh?"
He leaned back, looking up at Alex, trying to gauge his feelings before looking away. This wasn't at all easy for him. "When I came back that morning, you were gone. Not a sign. I asked around, tried to get surveillance tapes; I spent weeks searching but... your guys are good. I even called that number your geeky friends had, but it had been disconnected." He took another drink, more to give himself something to do than because he was thirsty.
Silent for a long moment, he finally made a face and turned his head away. "You left me like everyone else has. But hey," he said quickly after a beat, "It's okay. Time to move on. So what'cha been up to?"
"You think I just left you?" Alex sounded bitter. "They shot me full of dope and took me away. I was kept drugged up and interrogated for months and then dumped in the middle of rural Michigan. I found a group of white supremacists who had me working with them for a few days and then, just when I'd arranged to get away from them, Mulder caught me and dragged me with him off to Russia, chasing fucking aliens." He gave a derisive laugh. "Well, he found them, I'll say that much. I... the whole journey was hell, and I... don't think you'll much care for me now. They ruined me."
Alex hung his head, wanting to tell Dean about the loss of his arm, but not quite sure how to say it. In the end he merely shrugged his lop-sided gesture again and reached for his beer, his left arm dangling uselessly. "By the time I was fit again after Russia, there was no way I could remember your number. That's when I put the ads in the paper."
Dean tried not to feel anything. The story sounded true enough. Alex, as far as he knew, hadn't lied to him in the past, but time had passed; they had both changed. He tipped his head a little, studying Alex as if trying to read the man. He noticed that Alex wasn't using his arm, and he furrowed his brow as green eyes were raised to stare into a pair that was just like them.
"Mulder, huh... I'd ask if you had a pleasant trip, but that seems kind of obvious." Dean took another drink. "What happened to your arm? And..." Dean looked down at his beer bottle, picking at the label with his thumbnail, "And if you wanted to get away from them... why didn't you just leave, walk away. How many chances did you have after...?" Dean looked away, turning his head out towards the bar. "Whenever I would hit a town, some out of the way place, for months, a year even, I would ask around, use the police database." He swung round suddenly, bringing his piercing gaze back to Alex.
"Dad told me to give up. He said men like you... have these patterns. Patterns you get so set in you can't and won't ever escape from them. You don't want to. You may say you do, but you never try. Not really. He also said it was in your best interests. Was better for you. Better for me. Attachments... in our line of work... not a good thing. Can get hurt. He was right..." Dean nodded, looking down at his beer and wrinkled his face a little, "But all I could think about was... you were out there... alone. Scared. I made a promise to you and..." He swallowed hard. "... Hey, all in all... you seem to be doing well. Better clothes than the shit I bought you at Wal-Mart, huh?"
"What do you do, when nothing matters to you any more, Dean?" Alex looked down at his hand, carefully avoiding Dean's eyes. "You just keep going, because it's either that or die, and eventually you make a mistake that kills you, don't you?" There was a brief, uncomfortable moment when the two of them sat staring into their drinks, and then Alex said softly, "Losing you was painful. I didn't care any more, and I got stupid. You want to know what's wrong with my arm? I don't have an arm any more. They cut it off."
He sighed. "I guess you could say that I'm doing well. I'm much more adept at stealing what I need, anyway." He reached out to Dean for a moment, and then dropped his hand with a sigh. "I never stopped loving you. I don't have anyone else, and I don't suppose I ever will. I guess it was naive of me to think we could just take up where we left off, wasn't it?"
Dean swallowed hard. His arm had been cut OFF? Shit! Dean felt anger welling up in him for what had been done to this man who had been his lover. For putting him through whatever trials he'd had to suffer, and for what? This? Alex looked empty - a mere shell of the man he once was.
Daring at last, Dean reached out, snagging Alex's hand, fingers curling around his wrist and dragging back so their palms were together. "You know we can't," he answered softly. "I never stopped loving you either, Alexei. And you aren't alone in not having anyone else." He sighed softly. "Dad, he ditched me not too long ago. I knew it would only be a matter of time, but Sam is... he... I dragged him along to search for dad."
Dean looked at Alex. "I'm sorry." The words were whispered, almost inaudible.
"Yeah, yeah." Alex swallowed, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Wouldn't want your little brother to know that you..." He paused, clutched at Dean's hand for a moment, then released it, pushing to his feet. "I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you, Dean. Have a good life and stay safe, won't you?"
He wanted to bend and kiss Dean. He wanted to scream at him that they had to be together. Instead, he lifted his right hand in a mixture of blessing and farewell and turned to go.
Dean blinked. He swallowed for a moment, then turned to watch the retreating form of his former lover. Something inside him snapped. He shoved out of the booth, got to his feet quickly and surged out after Alex. Once he reached the open, he unleashed his anger.
His hand slapped upon Alex's shoulder and forced the man to stop. "What? Just like that, you're gonna walk out on me again?! Just leave me sitting there, after all you said? You fucking selfish bastard. You're just like my brother. Just like my father. All you guys do is think of yourselves."
Dean backed away, hurt showing clearly on his face. "Fine. You want to walk out. Then at least take this with you." He reached out, jerked the man to him by the collar of his jacket and kissed him, long, deep and hard. He finally pulled back, gasping for air and slowly released Alex. "That's a goodbye."
There was a long beat between them, before he spoke again. "But I don't want to say goodbye."
Alex stood, stunned. He felt shivery and light-headed. For a moment he just gazed at Dean, and then he spoke.
"I don't either."