The Hunter and the Hunted 21/21
Title: The Hunter and the Hunted 21/21
Part 21: “Exit Light; Enter Night”
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Rated: NC 17 for hot boysex.
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek
Spoilers: Vague for the X-Files “Terma” and “Requiem”
Warning: Slash.
Word count: 10,114
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: We thank you for staying with us for the course of this story. This final episode is very sad for us in many ways.
The quoted song is “Enter Sandman,” by Metallica.
Part 20
Part 19
Part 18
Part 17
Part 16
Part 15
Part 14
Part 13
Part 12
Part 11
Part 10
Part 9
Part 8
Part 7
Part 6
Part 5
Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Say your prayers little one
Dont forget, my son
To include everyone
Tuck you in, warm within
Keep you free from sin
Till the sandman he comes
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
Off to never never land
Just as Alex was walking into his room, the door was shoved wide, and he was pushed inside, the door slammed behind him. An older man stood there, his eyes dark as he looked at the one who had just left the Winchester's room. He looked rough and worn around the edges. His features were rugged, but his eyes held warmth even though they were currently giving Alex a cold stare. "Who are you, and what were you doing leaving that room?"
Alex had put his hand into his pocket and grabbed his gun, not bothering to take it out, but merely pointing it through the fabric, at the intruder. "Who the fuck are you, and why do you want to know?" he growled, backing away as he spoke. "I'll give you ten seconds to explain your interest, or you're gonna find yourself in a lonely, unmarked grave. Go!" He withdrew his hand from his pocket, revealing his Glock.
John Winchester merely looked at the gun and then stepped forward. "I know who you are, Alex." His voice was low and resonant. "Yeah, I know your name. I know who you are. What you are." He moved forward until the gun was resting against his chest, his eyes intense. "You need to leave, and you need to leave now, and you need never to darken their doorway again. You got me?"
For a moment, Alex's eyes opened wide at the other man's words, and then he started to laugh. "No I don't!" he said, between guffaws. "I don't have to do a fucking thing, and you can return to whatever hole you crawled out of and play with yourself. Mind identifying yourself, so I can give you a nice headstone with an inscription?"
John stepped closer, pushing the gun even harder into his chest, "I’m John Winchester. Now you pack up your things. You get in your car and drive away, and you never look back. You crawl back to your Consortium. Back into the sewers you came from. You never see my sons again. You even darken their shadows, try to make contact with them, I will hunt you down and make sure you never do it again. You got me?"
"Yeah, I've got you, but you obviously ain't got me. Mind telling me why you think I should care, John Winchester, since you're the asshole that walked away from my Dean and left him on his own, with nobody?" Alex was angry now. On hearing that this was in fact Dean's father, he had clicked the safety back on his gun and put it back into his pocket, and now he went to sit on the bed. "Prize father you are; no wonder he was frantic with worry about you."
John walked over, grabbing Alex off the bed and slamming him against the wall. The anger was clear in his eyes and upon his face. "You don't know our family, and you don't know what is going on." You don’t know how much I love my boys.
"With all due respect, John Winchester," said Alex, his voice toneless. "You don't have a clue what I know. There's no chance that I'm gonna leave Dean; I love him."
"Really. Is that why you want to harm Sam? Because you love Dean. It's not love, Alex. It's possession for you."
"Harm him? What makes you think I want to harm him?" Alex stared at John, wondering where the hell he was getting his information from. "I just want to make Dean happy for once. You certainly haven't done too much of that yourself, have you?"
"Just stay away from my boys," John growled, his eyes intense, and the anger clear in his voice. He turned and tossed Alex onto the bed, "Now pack your things."
"And if I were to say no?" Alex was equally angry. "Don't you care about Dean at all? Don't you want him to be happy?" He turned his palm up helplessly. "You abandoned him, but I love him, and he loves me. I don't want anything to happen to Sam, because that would devastate Dean, and I want Dean to be happy. If you can prove to me that there's any real reason for wanting me out of the way, because it will hurt Dean more than losing me, I'll go, but you just telling me to get out isn't gonna do it. It just means that I go back and tell Dean, and he comes to kick your dog-in-the-manger ass."
He paused for a moment, looking at John. "I love Dean, Mr. Winchester. I want the best life for him that he can possibly have, and if that isn't what you want, I'll know it."
"I'm telling you to leave for Dean's own good. And don't you dare tell me how I feel about my boys," John snarled. "Your friends, they are coming back for you. They know where you are, and you are gonna get my boys killed. You are gonna get Dean killed, or worse." He moved to step before Alex once more. "They are gonna use Dean as bait once they find out, and then it will only be a matter of time, won’t it?"
The older Winchester reached into his jacket, tossing a folder down beside Alex. "Your girlfriend, Marita, is looking for you."
"She's not my girlfriend!" Alex spat out. "Hasn't been for years. If you know so much, why is she looking for me? The old man is dead now; there's nobody left that cares."
Inwardly, he felt chilled. Had he put Dean in danger? If anyone, anywhere, hurt Dean, he'd never forgive himself. "I don't want anything to happen to Dean. I mean it; I love him." He frowned. If what John Winchester was saying was true, then Dean was in trouble, and so was Sam. Alex couldn't let that happen. He felt his world end right there.
"Welcome to my world. You accused me of not loving Dean. Of abandoning him. I did it because I don't want my boys involved when... things go down." John left it at that. "I left to protect him. To protect Sam." He stepped back. "The people you play with are dangerous, Alexander. They won't hesitate to kill. And your friend, the old man, he's not dead. Though there seem to be puppets fighting to be the new puppet master. Your friend, Marita, wants you to run it with her." He paused, sure now from Alex’s expression that his message was going home.
"Your mess is not finished, and you're putting my boys in danger. You finish sorting out your mess, and then you can come back to Dean, if you still care by then."
"I don't want to run anything with her." Alex was shivering now. "I want Dean." He would have hugged himself, if he'd had two good arms. As it was, he merely stood, game face in place, chin lifted in the arrogant manner he’d always resorted to, when he didn't want people to know that he was suffering. "You sure that that evil old bastard is still alive? I killed him with my bare hands. What the hell is he?"
He seemed almost to have forgotten John as he reached for his phone and turned it on for the first time since he'd met up with Dean. Thumbing the speed dial, he called Marita, and after a few minutes he threw the phone from him in disgust. "I'll never be free, will I? God, how I hate them."
Turning back to John, he nodded. "Okay, you win. I'll leave, but I'm telling you, I'm not going back to the Consortium; I'm going to do what I can to stop them. They've fucked up my life, and I'm going to see that they don't win." He paused. "I want to say goodbye to him before I go," he said at last. “I vanished out of his life the last time. I don’t want to do that again. It wouldn’t be fair to Dean. He isn’t as strong as he wants you to think he is.”
John just stood there, taking in Alex's reaction. His frosty expression had melted somewhat; in a way, he felt for Alex. "You’d better not tell him I was here," was all he said. He was determined that his boys shouldn’t find out that he was ever there. John turned to leave and then paused. "Alex," John looked back at him. "There are some things that will never end... unless it's in death." Pulling open the door, John Winchester walked out, closing it behind him.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
A year passed. John Winchester was laid to rest in the only way that Sam and Dean knew, his corpse salted and burned, and the long, slow process of healing began, although it seemed to Sam that Dean was beyond broken, and that nothing could ever be right for his brother again. He tried hard, but try as he might he was rebuffed. Dean would give him nothing, merely turning his most annoyingly sarcastic attitude onto him and suffering on his own.
He sought for something to turn his brother around, feeling more and more the loss of the devil-may-care spirit of this man who had practically raised him, nursed him through his illnesses and given him everything that he couldn't have himself. He ached for Dean.
Since the one-armed man had left him, Dean had no longer looked at the cheap girls in bars; it was as if everything in him had shut down, and he was frozen into his grief. Finally, one day, finding themselves at a loose end after a hunt in Virginia, Sam took things into his own hands. It was his turn to drive, and his brother was sleeping, exhausted after a battle that had taken everything they had. Deciding that he had to take the chance, Sam turned the Impala towards Washington DC and headed into the nation's capital to find Krycek and make him come back to Dean.
Dean woke, sunglasses on, and he stretched purposefully, shoving his brother as he was driving. "Where are we?" he asked, smacking his lips from the dryness of sleep and looking about for a bottle of water. Traffic was speeding past them, so they were in some city. "What we doing here? You find something to hunt while I was sleeping, or is this another one of your visions?"
"Call it more of a premonition," said Sam, eyeing Dean and gesturing towards the water that had rolled onto the floor while his brother was sleeping. "There's something we need to hunt down, for sure. This is Washington DC, and we're looking for rodents - preferably the two legged kind, and especially the kind that are missing a limb.' They'd crossed the bridge, and Sam was approaching the Hoover building. "There it is;" he said, pointing with his thumb as they drove past. "That's the FBI headquarters. They ought to know where he is."
Dean had grabbed at the water, and he nearly choked on it at Sam’s words. His head whipped around to look at his brother as if he had gone insane. "What? The one city with the most cops... with what we do and we are looking for...." He couldn't even say his lover’s name. Dean had only heard from Alex once since that time, on his birthday. "I swear you have got to be high. He's probably not even here. Why bother?" He stared out the window. Dean hadn't thought the ache in his heart could get any worse, but somehow it had just succeeded.
Inspecting the FBI building, Dean frowned. He knew full well there were two badges in the glove box that could get them inside. "So what? You have a plan or something?"
"Kind of," said Sam, looking over to Dean to get a feel for how he was taking this. "You know that you've been pining for him, and if he didn't leave you an address, then the best chance we have of locating him is to get into the Hoover, find that office down in the basement that he told you about and search through the files ‘til we find him. If the dude he mentioned as being after him all the time is there, then we take him down and make him tell us where Alex is. That is my plan. Masterly, don't you think? And I so young." He spied a parking lot on a vacant site and pulled the car in, fishing through his pockets for change to buy a ticket.
Dean looked over at Sam and stole a line from his brother. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother, you freak?" He smacked Sam's leg. Dean pushed open the door but reached into the glove box and started looking for the IDs he had salted away. He pulled one out, and handed it over to Sam, "Here you go." Taking his own, he wondered if they should change. "We gonna have to play Blues Brothers again?" he asked over the car.
Deep down, Dean very much doubted they would find Alex. The sinking feeling in his stomach told him that it was over. Alex had left him that day for the rest of his life. Things between Alex and these others would never be over. And for some reason, there was a growing pit in his stomach, bigger even than before.
"Yeah, the suit and tie thing is required," said Sam with a grin. "Besides, if we find him, we want you looking spiffy, don't we?" Sam headed around to the trunk and found the suit bags, pulling the two of them out and passing one over to Dean. "Come on, dude. Let's get into the undertaker suit and get this done."
Dressing in the car was a comedy of errors. Dean went first, while Sam stood guard, and once he was decent, Sam took his place, fighting with his pants and cursing the thought that had caused him to come here.
Finally, both dressed in funereal black with white shirts and Sam's unruly mop temporarily gelled back off his face, the two men pinned on their badges and headed to the Hoover. "What was that dude's name?" asked Sam as they trotted up the stairs and into the building. "The one that was chasing your boy all over the place?"
Straightening his tie, Dean made a face as they walked toward the Hoover building. He couldn't believe he was doing this, or that Sam was willing. Dean stopped, looking up at his brother, "Sam, look, we don't have to do this."
Sam shot a glance at Dean and then nodded, "Yes we do."
Dean stared at Sam for a long time as his younger brother walked on and left him standing. Rushing to catch up with him, he was beside his brother as they entered the building. "I only remember the last name, Mulder." Together, the two of them approached security, flashed their badges and passed through, "Hey, can you tell me where Agent Mulder's office is?"
The guy laughed, "Spooky? Basement. Take the elevator all the way down, you can't miss it."
They followed the directions that the security guard had given them and were soon standing outside a door on which read the legend, "X-Files." It was locked.
The basement seemed deserted, and Sam dropped to his knees, swiftly working the tumblers of the lock so that the door popped open with a snick. "Tsk! You'd think that the FBI would pose more of a challenge, really, wouldn't you?" He grinned up at Dean as he rose to his feet and dusted off his knees.
Pushing open the door, it soon became obvious that this was the place they needed. Dean closed it behind them and headed for the filing cabinet, while Sam made a beeline for the computer, and soon they were working through files and folders that contained a wealth of information on all aspects of the supernatural.
When Sam finally broke Mulder's code and found a file labeled Krycek, Alex, he called Dean, and soon they were sifting through the information with their breath bated.
Dean had been looking through the files in the cabinet, chuckling. "I can't believe half this shit." He shook his head, stuffing a file back and thumbing through some others. "For a guy trying to prove this stuff exists, he is doing a really piss-poor job." At Sam's call, Dean moved over, leaned against his brother’s shoulder, and together they read the file.
From what Dean could see, Alex had been a busy boy in the early days. He frowned as he saw there had been a long space of time where nothing had been recorded until an entry that was recent. Dean suddenly felt his knees turn weak, and the blood drained from his face. He straightened up and backed away, blinking quickly, his jaw clenching tight. He swallowed hard, "Well that answers that," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Quick as a thought, Sam was up out of the seat, putting his arms around his brother to hold him tight, teeth clenching as he bit back words that he knew would only make things worse. Dead - Dean's lover was dead, and he, Sam, had taken away his brother's last hope of happiness. "God, Dean, I am so sorry," he whispered, knowing that the words meant nothing, and that his rash plan had backfired so completely that it deserved a space in the Guinness Book of World Records, or something.
Dean blinked, his face an emotionless mask though his eyes were filled with tears. He couldn't talk, dared not. Instead he reached up, gently pushing his brother away, "Shut that thing off and let's get out of here before..." He fell silent as he heard a sound. The voices of at least two men became steadily more audible. He shrugged at Sam, and then pushed him to the other side of the door as he drew his gun.
Doggett was the first in the door, "I'm telling you, there’s nothing there. You're only seeing what you want to see."
"You're wrong." The flat, nasal drawl of the man following him into the room spoke of a lifetime of getting his own way. The men were in before they noticed anything was wrong, and Fox Mulder froze as he saw the intruders. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, flinching a little as Sam pointed his gun and stood holding it on him.
"Shut up," Sam growled. He'd checked the badges, and realized that this was the Mulder that Dean had mentioned. "We've got some questions. Answer them, and we'll leave." He pointed to the chair and indicated that Doggett should sit, then swiftly used a set of handcuffs to secure him to it.
Doggett glared at the gun as the door was shut and locked. He’d put his hands up as he inspected the two young men who had guns upon them. "Questions?" Doggett lowered himself down and winced as Sam closed the cuffs around him tightly. "About what?"
Dean sauntered over to Mulder, his face now a mask of anger, "Sit down," came the low growl. When Mulder didn't comply fast enough Dean kicked his knee and forced him down, securing him to the second chair. He grabbed his hair and bent his head back, "Tell me you buried him." The gun in Dean's other hand was pointed right between Mulder's eyes.
"Okay, I buried him," said Mulder, sarcasm thick in his voice as he glared up at Dean. "What the hell are you talking about? And what are you doing in my office?"
Doggett rocked his chair forward, trying to reach the telephone on the desk, and Sam sighed, stepped over to him and clouted him behind the ear with his gun. Doggett went limp, and hung in the seat, his face slack, as Sam, eyes on his brother, reached for the phone jack and yanked it out of the wall.
"Alex Krycek," Dean spoke slowly in some effort to try and control his anger. It was taking everything he had to keep from pulling the trigger. To keep from seeing Mulder's brain splattered on his stupid ass poster of wanting to believe. "Did you bury him?"
"Did I?" Mulder stared at Dean, off-balance now as he sought through his memories. So much had happened that day. "No. Skinner said he'd dispose of him. Why do you want to know, anyway? He was a morally bankrupt bastard, with less conscience than a cockroach. Nobody will ever miss him."
Dean drew back and punched Mulder before grabbing him in the chair and slamming it back so the chair was on two legs and Mulder's head hit his desk. "YOU FUCKIN' BASTARD!" Dean was shaking. "You are the one that can't even rate on the level of a roach. You would give them a bad name. And you are so stupid. You only see what is around you, not the rest of the world. You are not the fucking sun, Muldick. Everything doesn't revolve around you."
Mulder shook his head, groggy from the effects of the repeated blows. He smiled, his full lips curling in derision. "Well, I guess that even a piece of slime like Alex Krycek has someone to mourn for him. If you want to know where he's buried, you're gonna have to go bother Walter Skinner, because I don't have a clue, and what's more, I don't care."
Sam frowned. Something was nagging him. "Where was he killed?" he asked.
"In the parking garage," said Mulder. "Just out back here."
Dean punched Mulder once again before jerking him back up. "I should just let him haunt your lame ass, because it's clear to me... you don't know jack shit about what you are doing, or how to find any of the things you’re looking for. Yeah, I read some of your files... you are a fucking idiot. Dirt has a higher IQ than you do." Dean kicked the chair over, looking to his brother. "Let's go," he glanced back to Mulder, "We'll be back, don't go anywhere."
"Dean, there's no evidence that he's haunting anywhere," said Sam as they left the X-Files, closing the door on the two imprisoned agents, leaving Doggett still unconscious and Mulder lying on the floor, bleeding from a cut lip, glaring at him. "You heard Mulder. This Skinner person that shot him probably burned his body or something."
As Dean continued walking towards the door that led to the parking garage, Sam sighed and followed him.
Dean shook his head, "As badly as they treated him, probably dumped his body in a river or something." He pushed open the door, letting it slam shut again as he walked out into the parkade. He slowed when they reached the area Mulder had described, and Sam swiftly located the stain on the concrete, where Alex Krycek’s blood had spilled out.
Dean’s hand still stung from hitting Mulder. He hesitated a moment and then finally moved over to where Sam was standing and looked down, swallowing hard. He crouched down at last, hand reaching to touch the place where the blood still lingered.
The air was suddenly cool, and Sam twitched, fumbling through his pockets for the EMF. "Dean," he said. "Something... I can feel something."
Dean looked up to Sam, "You have the EMF?" He too could feel the air around him turning cold, but there was a familiar scent to it. He felt his breath catch for a moment. "Xander?" he whispered.
At first it seemed as if nothing more would happen, and Sam was about to go back into the main building, when Alex walked out of the shadows. He looked younger than he had when last Dean had seen him, and it was plain to see that he had two arms once more. He came to a stop on the bloodstained concrete in front of Alex and stood looking down at the still crouching Dean.
"Hello, love," he murmured, and there was regret in his voice as he spoke. "My fault, Dean. I failed you."
Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. Alex was as he remembered him when they first met. He rose up, wanting to go to the man and hold him, kiss him, touch him but... A tear trickled down Dean's cheek as he stood there. "It's okay." He swallowed hard. "What happened, Xander?"
Alex's face changed, grew older, and he was suddenly dressed in more expensive clothes. He turned as a car roared up and a man got out of it. It could be seen that the man was Mulder. They couldn't hear a sound, but it was obvious that there was an altercation between them, and as Alex was speaking, wordlessly opening and closing his mouth, a third figure joined the two of them.
Dean watched as the scene played out. He swallowed hard, and then flinched as the tall, balding man shot his lover. Closing his eyes, Dean swayed, only to feel his brother's hands upon him. "I'm okay," he whispered then looked back at Alex. "Do... do you know where your body is?"
Lying on his back, the hole in his forehead gaping open like a third eye, Alex flickered, faded away, and all was silent again. They waited for a long time before regretfully turning away. It seemed as if Alex had gone, at least at that moment.
Sam, who was still standing very close to his brother, squeezed his shoulder. "Now what do we do? He's gone, and I don't know how you summon ghosts - just demons."
Dean closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, and drew in a long breath. "We better get out of here."
Sam took hold of Dean’s arm and started out, heading back toward the place where they’d parked their car. "Do we need to find this Skinner?" he asked, hoping to God that if they found him, Dean wouldn't skin him alive. They ran across the street to the Impala, and Sam unlocked the passenger door then went around to the driver’s side, looking at Dean over the roof of the car. "He should know where he dumped Alex's body or where it went or we can..." His words cut off.
"Or we can check the morgue," said Dean. He got into the car, pulled his FBI badge off and started searching for different ones. He was getting good at making these things.
"You calm down, bro. I'll drive." Sam settled himself behind the wheel and started the engine. "I don't know where the City Morgue is. You have any clue?"
The evening had come down on them without their noticing, and the street lights were flickering on. Sam flipped on the headlights as they pulled away. "Should be easy enough to find tomorrow. Probably won't be open now though. It's getting late.
"You don't need to go there," murmured Alex, from the rear seat, causing Sam to swerve and making the truck driver behind them honk his horn angrily. "Dean... I need you to help me. I need you to do whatever it is that you guys do to lay me to rest."
Dean jumped at the voice, but quickly turned around to see Alex sitting in the back seat, smiling at him. His heart was pounding, and he stared at the spirit of the man he’d loved. "I guess we don't, now you’re here," he nodded, "I know, I'm trying to help. If we can find your body, we can put you to rest. You... I don't care what they say. You deserve that because... you do." Dean nodded.
"You gonna salt me and burn my bones?" Alex gave Dean a half smile. "I guess that's what you do, isn't it? Salt and burn." His face turned ugly, the wound in his forehead flickering in and out of existence before Alex's ghost settled down again to resemble the young man Dean had first rescued and loved. "Too bad you can't salt and burn the bald fuck that put me in my grave."
Dean insides ached, and he had to look away, the pain of all he had gone through showing on his face in one shot. When he finally dared to look up, Alex’s appearance had reverted to youthful once more. "Hmm," he nodded, turning back. "It's tempting." He glanced at Sam, who was concentrating manfully on driving. "Where are you, Xander?" Dean finally asked Alex, returning his gaze to the back seat.
The ghost appeared to peer out of the window, and the brothers could feel the cold air from the back of the car as he put his head between them. "Okay, take a right here and head out towards the arboretum." He reached forward and laid his right hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean could feel the eerie touch like a jolt of electricity. "I'm in the Eastern Cemetery. They dumped me naked, and my identity was never found - Skinner made sure of that."
Shivering from the touch, Dean gasped at the jolt and turned his head to his one time lover. "We'll take care of it." He turned back, "You know where you are going, Sammy?" With a nod, Dean fought to school his face not to allow any more emotions to show.
As Sam pulled the car up at the cemetery, Dean climbed out to find a shovel and the gas can. Sam followed behind with the salt, and the two brothers began to walk, looking about themselves anxiously. "I'm starting to hate cemeteries," Dean mumbled to Sam as he probed the darkness with the flashlight. The air was cold, Dean felt cold, and he knew that people would say what they were about to do was cold hearted. But it was to put his lover to rest. To lay to rest the happiness that now could never be. Dean was all too well aware that he would be burying any dreams he might have had.
"Dean." The ghost had followed, was walking beside him, looking as solid as he had ever done in real life. "Your father was the one that told me to get away from you. He was right. You'd be dead with me now, if I hadn't bailed on you and led them away."
As they finally arrived at the lonely grave, Alex turned, put out a hand, touched Dean's face, warmer now, almost feeling alive. "I loved you; I really did; I still do." He bent forward a little and kissed Dean's mouth, the whisper of lips over his. "So do it, love, and hurry, before I change my mind and beg you to keep me with you."
He studied the wooden marker that was his only headstone. "There's nobody else to remember me, and that's probably a very good thing for all of us. You've been through so much, but I know you have a chance to be happy, if you take it."
Dean closed his eyes, his body shaking with emotion. He’d only let Sam see him that way once. Now he was showing it again as Dean felt his world shattering down all around him. He’d lost his mom, given up his childhood for his brother and father, given up all his dreams for them. He’d had his father give up his own life for him to live without asking him what he thought. He’d feared, always feared Sam would be next, and that he would be the one to leave him, but he’d been wrong, Sam remained, but Alex was gone, taken from him in the worst way. Now he was learning that his father had been the one who told his lover to leave.
Dean opened his eyes, swallowing hard, glancing at Sam before turning back to Alex, "My father never gave me a chance to say... what I would have wanted to say, but..." He cleared his throat, "I love you, Xander. Just wish... we could have one more time." Dean dropped the gas can and the shovel and pressed his hands to his face.
"We should get to it," he said at last.
"Did you ever see Ghost?" Sam had been waiting, watching as his brother's heart took yet another beating, but now he stepped forward. "Dude, I don't know if it can be done for real, but we can try, can't we?"
Alex suddenly looked thoughtful. "I guess we can give it a whirl, since you're psychic Psammy!" For a moment, the ghost grinned, and then he stepped forward, walked straight into Sam, and the lanky young ghosthunter's eyes opened wide as he felt the presence inside him. A moment later, he fell to the ground.
There was a rushing in Dean's ears. It had come to this, and now Sammy was apparently unconscious. As he stumbled forward and knelt down beside his brother, Sam's eyes opened and he reached up with his arms to pull Dean down against him. "Holy shit," said Sam. "It worked."
"Sammy?" Dean asked, holding his brother tightly, but suddenly as he looked into those eyes, he could only see Alex, even if he wore the moles and the sexy smile of his brother. "Xander, is that you? Oh God, Sammy, what did you do?" He brushed his hand through Sam's hair, collecting his thoughts and finally accepting what Sam was trying to give to him.
Holding his brother’s body so tightly that he was almost crushing him, Dean whispered, "I wish you wouldn't have left. I didn't want you to leave, but who was I to tell you not to?" He pulled back, his eyes glassy once more and then leaned in, kissing him deeply. "You really want to do this here, on your grave? I know you were kinky but..." He smiled.
Alex rolled them over and smiled down at Dean out of Sam's eyes, then bent to kiss him. "It's gonna be better than it was the last time we did it, love. I've got two arms again." He gave a short laugh. "That's one perk of being a ghost, I guess. And for this, I'll take it."
They kissed for a long time, Sam's fingers stroking Dean in a way his brother never had, Sam's mouth uttering endearments that would have made the man himself blush. "I want to do everything to you. I don't ever want you to forget me, Dean. I won't forget you, no matter where I am."
Slowly opening Dean's clothes, Alex kissed his way down Dean's body, mouth straying to lick, or nibble or suck at every part. "When I'm gone, you'll still have Sam, you know," he said softly.
Dean's body came alive. He wasn't sure if it was because of Sam's presence or because he was with his lover once again for the last time. He gasped and moaned, little curses leaving him as Alex worked him with his own brother's hands. "I know," he breathed, "I love him. I love you."
"I'll never forget you, Xander. I can't; it’s not possible." Dean's finger groped at Sam's clothing, pulling to expose his brother's skin. When he looked up into those eyes, he could see green gazing back at him. He saw his lover which made Dean's heart melt and ache at the same time. Exposed as they were, they couldn’t get completely naked, but Dean was willing to give that up for this last opportunity to show Alex how much he loved him.
Simultaneously surging up and pushing down, he pulled Alex into a deep kiss that was at the same time hungry and needful. "Want you," he moaned. Teeth sank into skin. Hands pushed at Sam's pants, getting them open so he could sneak a hand inside to grasp his cock and Dean smirked, knowing that what he was whispering was sure to either make Sam inside blush or be jealous.
Sam/Alex closed his eyes and moaned as Dean's fingers caressed him. Pulling Dean's pants open, he reciprocated, palming Dean's erection, sliding a knowing hand up and down as he tugged it free from his clothing. "You know, I used a lot of people, but I only ever loved you," he said softly, moving down until he could lick at the tip of the cock he was holding, swirling his tongue around the ridge where head joined shaft.
For a few moments he lavished attention on the crown, kissing and sucking at it so that he could hear Dean cry out, and then he suddenly sucked him all the way in, mouth working, saliva and hot wet tissue surrounding him.
"Yeah, well so have I," Dean had to admit, "But not after you left and... and after my father's death." He squirmed at his own honesty, but then he let out a cry as his cock ached for that hot mouth. Dean looked down, watching his brother's dark head working him the way he never had before. He knew that Sam wasn't this skilled.
Dean gripped the dark locks, giving them a little push even though he knew he really didn't have to. "God, you are so good at this. Shit!" Dropped back, he pushed his hips up into that delicious mouth and spread his legs wider with need. "Shit, Xander, fuck me, please."
Willing hands tugged at Dean's jeans, dragging them down and then discarding them, so that Dean's lower half lay exposed in the faintly misty moonlight. Lips nuzzled and mumbled over Dean's cock, along his thighs, down behind his balls, until Dean's breathing turned ragged, and he began to beg.
When at last the ghost in Sam's body reared up onto his knees and pulled Dean onto his thighs, he crouched, gazing down on Dean, Alex's expression on Sam's face, before leaning forward and beginning to press himself inside Dean.
Dean was squirming and clutching, back arching as little soft obscenities emerged from his lips. His eyes closed tightly against the pressure of Sam's cock entering him. It had been a very long time since he and Sam had done this. There was pain at first, before he could relax enough to give way and then the burn turned into something sweet and full of sensation. Dean gave himself over to it, clinging onto Sam's upper arms. As he gazed up, all he could see was Alex’s sweet face, Alex’s tender expression and loving eyes. "Love you. Always will," he breathed, even as his eyes shone with tears.
He groaned deeply, working his hips along with those pumping into him. "Oh, man, Xander, you..." Dean groaned again, head pressing back as his back tried to arch. God he loved the feel of this, even though the feeling was tearing him apart on so many levels. Levels he knew he was going to have to learn to shut off or bleed to death from the emotional wounds he’d received.
Once inside Dean, Alex moved gently, not wanting this to be over until it had to be. Instead he crouched, gazing down at his love, hands caressing wherever they could reach. "I wish things could have been different. Maybe we'll get another chance in some future lifetime, you think?"
Tears glinted on Sam/Alex's cheeks, and he leant forward as far as he could, pulling Dean up so that their lips could meet. "You promise me that you and Sam will be happy?" he whispered.
Dean wished for that as much as Alex did - wished that for once the people around Dean would stop leaving him. He swallowed hard as a salty tear dropped down onto him, searing his skin. He wasn’t sure that was a promise he could make. All his other promises had fallen apart when he'd made them. All he could do was nod, knowing his brother was probably listening, watching, and experiencing the intense feelings the two of them had shared when he wasn't around.
"Anything is possible," Dean whispered as he surged up again to capture those lips, even if it meant bending his body into a position that resembled a pretzel. Grabbing, clutching, caressing, Dean let himself open up, baring himself to Alex, to Sam as he was moved. The ring Alex had given him left an impression upon Sam's skin as Dean held on tightly to keep from moving under the tender assault of his lover - his one time lover, he supposed.
Passion grew, and the two of them plunged towards completion, and there would be bruises on both Dean and Sam before the night was through. Alex didn't speak again, because he couldn't. His throat was so tight with the pain of loss that he just couldn't say a word. He concentrated instead on kissing Dean, sucking on his lover's tender mouth, stealing his breath as they moved together - no words, merely tiny sounds, little moans, groans and grunts that told of the bitter-sweet pleasure of this last ever lovemaking
It didn't take much longer. Alex could feel Sam's body tightening, knew that he couldn't hold on much longer and took hold of Dean's cock, squeezing it and stroking it as he tried to make sure that Dean came with him when he finally released.
Dean's lashes were wet with tears. This moment was soon going to be over, and his heart was going to be torn from him once again, the way it had been when he’d seen the words upon the screen that had announced Alex’s death - the way it had been when he’d seen his father upon the bed and heard the doctor calling the time - the time that would be forever in his memory. And just the way it had been when he’d watched the house burn that he’d called his home. Now if ever, Dean understood Sam and how his little brother felt about his loss over Jessica.
With eyes closed tightly, Dean let out a gurgled cry as his release slammed into him, letting go all the emotions that were pinned up inside him. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, sliding down his temples to the ground. The hot splash of his own seed burned his chest even as he felt Sam/Alex fill him. Dean felt shattered, and he started to fight hard to gather those pieces together once more, before his brother returned, and Alex left.
Alex sprawled out over his lover, Sam's body limp and boneless as he collapsed, his head pillowed on Dean's shoulder, his arms stealing round him to hold him close as they lay in the grass on Alex's grave. For a while, neither of them spoke, and then Alex shook Sam's unruly mop of hair back from his face and raised himself to look at Dean.
"Best we get going, love. There isn't too much of the night left, and you don't want to be here once the day breaks." He kissed Dean one last time, lips soft and face full of regret. "I'll never forget that day you found me in the silo there, how gorgeous you looked, and how much you made me want you. Did I ever tell you that I found out what the black stuff was? It was an alien that had the power to possess people, just the way that those demons of yours can. Later, I saw a lot of people that were infected by it. I even infected one of them myself, on purpose."
"Hope they deserved it," Dean managed to get out from his closed throat. He swallowed hard once again. "If we run into them, we'll be sure to fry one up for you." He was grimly building his walls back up, trusting Alex to let it happen. "We’d better hurry; Sammy and I have some digging to do." He grabbed at his brother, but whispered to what was inside him. "I... I lied to Sam once, when I told him I didn't know what it was like to lose a love like he had with his girl. I did know. I do know, and I always will know."
Dean felt them separate, and he held back all the sounds that wanted to escape him. "Xander... Is he going to remember all this?" He asked, eyes red-rimmed and blinking fast with tears.
"I don't know." Alex smiled wryly. "I never tried to possess a living person before." He smiled wider and sat up to start adjusting his clothing. "Maybe I could go possess Walter Skinner and have him drive off a bridge into the Potomac or something." He paused and frowned in the act of pulling his pants up. "I guess that sounds like your typical, evil ghost, but it isn't. I was a killer before I died. I haven't changed. That's all. I get these urges from time to time."
He scrambled to his feet again and stooped to offer Dean his hand, pulling his lover up into his waiting arms. "So I guess I should get out of your brother and let him cope with the wet spot in his undies," he said, looking down into Dean's tearful eyes. "I won't be gone completely, you know. I'll always be watching you, loving you."
Dean dressed himself the rest of the way, arching his back as he slid his pants back up and closed the zipper. He could understand Alex’s desire to kill the one who had killed him, especially lately. There were urges in him he didn't want to face, and hunting seemed to be the only thing that would make them go away for a while.
What's dead should stay dead. Those words repeated in Dean's mind even as his heart tried to reject them. He swallowed and nodded, "Just, give me some privacy in the shower now and again." He gave a quick, sad little smile before slowly pulling away.
It had to come to an end at last. Sam gave a shudder, and his breathing faltered, and suddenly, he was Sam again, and Alex was gone as if he'd never been. For a moment, Sam staggered, putting out a hand to hold himself up in case he fell on his face.
"You okay?" he asked, peering at Dean, a worried frown on his face. "What happened?" He checked his watch, apparently disoriented. When Dean didn't answer immediately, he picked up his shovel and started to dig. "Dude, you still want to do this?" he asked.
Dean just stared at Sam for the longest moment before, like his father, he schooled his face, and he nodded, "Yeah, we... need to." Dean grabbed at the shovel, not sure if Sam was lying about not remembering or if he really wasn't faking. The shovel cut into the dirt, and with each removal of dirt, Dean felt his heart aching worse. His only fear now was that they hadn't put Alex into a box before interring him.
After a long while, finally the brothers struck something. Dean looked over at Sam and shrugged. He drew a shaky breath and grabbed the pry bar. "Okay, let's do this. Get the salt and gas, hand it down," Dean stabbed the bar in to get the box open. He didn't want to look in, but he couldn’t stop himself, and he winced at the sight before prizing the box open the rest of the way. Climbing out, he grabbed the salt and started pouring it over Alex’s body, while Sam did the same with the gas.
Dean stood at the edge for a long while before pulling a lighter out and setting it afire and tossing it in. He didn't say anything, merely stood there, staring into the blaze with tears in his eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to hide the trembling of his bottom lip, not wanting to let it show that a tear slipped down. "We should really get out of town right away, before I..." Dean grabbed the shovel without saying another word.
"Yeah, dude, you got it." For once, Sam didn't argue, didn't find six million reasons why they should stay; he merely shouldered his shovel and straightened up. "You sure that you're okay?"
Dean didn't answer, and Sam hadn't expected him to. This was Dean's own, private grief, and the closest he would ever be able to come to it was in the pain of losing Jess. Wisely, Sam kept silent and led Dean back to the Impala, wordlessly loaded the shovels into the trunk and then said, "I'll drive," in a tone that brooked no argument.
The motel they found was expensive and only half way decent. As Sam rented the room, Dean merely sat staring into space, and finally Sam had to go fetch him out of the car to come inside.
Dean hadn't at first felt the nudge from Sam ‘til his brother tugged at his sleeve to encourage him to get out of the Impala. Slowly he left the car behind, exchanging it for the darkened room. Dean tossed his bag down on the floor and headed for the bathroom. "Gonna shower," he announced without looking back. The door closed behind him, and this time Dean locked it, something he rarely did. Eyes drifted about the bright room, taking in the neatly rolled up towels, the shower curtain that was pulled back to reveal a clean tub. His eyes finally came to rest upon his own reflection and he noted that he had reddened eyes that looked as if h was seriously lacking sleep, or was on a drug bender. Dark circles under his eyes completed the effect, standing out starkly in his pale face.
Dean moved over toward the mirror, just standing there. He felt like he was in a living hell. His father's death was still fresh in him even if it had been months since it happened, and now a new scar had formed, adding to the gaping hole that lay in his heart. If he were to lose Sam as well, Dean's world would be fully shattered. He would be alone. He felt a heaviness suddenly come over him, and his knees nearly gave out. Fresh tears began to form, and Dean swallowed hard, then moved to turn the shower on, stripping off his clothing as he went.
The water was really hot, scalding in fact as he got in, leaning with one hand on the shower wall, while his head dropped down and his tears flowed freely. His quiet sobs were masked by the rattle of the exhaust fan, and the water raining down around him. It was long moments before Dean started to wash away any dirt his activities had left on him. He wanted to wash away the thoughts in his head too - thoughts of burying alive the two bastards that had killed Alex, thoughts of solemnly cursing them for giving him the burial that they had. He guessed it was a small favor that they’d given him even that much, but still the need to hurt them as much as he hurt was there, weighing heavy. He and Sam needed to get as far from this place as possible, to put several states between them as soon as they could.
Sam paced while Dean was in the bathroom, worried for his brother and knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. He'd made sure that Dean had left his weapons out in the bedroom, and now he was striding restlessly back and forth in the hotel bedroom, wracking his brains as he attempted to think of anything that might comfort Dean.
He wondered if Dean would want to go after Krycek's murderers, and wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not. On the one hand, he figured that it might give his desolate brother a mild sense of satisfaction, and on the other, Dean really didn't need the feds chasing him as well as everything else on his plate. For himself, Sam had just begun to like Krycek when the man had disappeared. He'd truly enjoyed watching the way that Alex had brought Dean out of himself and had begun to accept that the love between the two of them was real. Now he was left to pick up the pieces. That made him cranky.
When Dean finally emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam, Sam went to him and put his arms around him, not caring if Dean would be sarcastic or not, but just wanting to feel his brother’s warmth against him.
Dean's skin was red both from the shower and from having Sam greet him as he stepped from the bathroom wrapped only in a towel. He made a face as Sam hugged him, but once his brother was holding him, Dean closed his eyes tightly, wet his lips and drew a breath to keep his emotions safely swallowed down.
Lifting his hands, Dean finally protested, "Dude, get off me, you are all dirty," and pushed Sam gently away, steeling his face much as his father always had. "Take a shower, Sammy; I left you some hot water." He moved around Sam, going to his bag to get some clean underwear before crawling into bed.
Numbly, Sam nodded. It was true; he was grubby, covered in grave dirt and smuts from the burning of Alex's remains. He undressed down to his underwear and headed into the bathroom to start getting himself clean. He had no idea what to do for Dean, so he concentrated on washing himself and making himself fresh, thinking that at least he could do that.
Once he was clean, he draped the towel around his hips and went back out, wondering if he should climb into bed with Dean or leave him. "Dude. You want me to hold you?"
Dean lay in his bed while Sam was washing up, letting the sound of the shower create a numbness in his head. That was good because thinking right now was the last thing he wanted to do. The walls around him were trying to build up higher. Dean knew he had changed with the loss of his father. His father had always placed a very heavy weight upon him. He had admitted to that in the hospital, and not once had Dean complained, knowing that it was for his family. However even as he’d admitted it, his father had placed another burden on him, and Dean could feel himself cracking now under the weight.
Then there was Alex, who had been the one person who loved him for himself, and who wasn't tied to his family. Alex hadn’t felt like he had some obligation to love him; he just had. He hadn't placed anything on Dean; instead he had given. Alex had given him the love that he craved but couldn't seem to get from his own family. Dean had thought he wasn't going to be alone forever. There had always been that little glimmer of hope in the back of his mind that Alex would be there for him, but now that had been stomped out. Burned away just like his bones. Forever lost to him.
Dean clutched at his pillow, his face buried in it and his back to the bathroom door. Dean loved his little brother, he always had. However, deep down, Dean had always been jealous of him. Sam seemed always to have taken first place in everything the family did. John had placed Sam first. Dean had always been the afterthought. When his father would come home from a hunt, Sam was always the first one he checked on, while Dean had been left to drag his father’s heavy bag to a table and look it over, waiting ‘til his father came back to settle heavily into a chair or onto a bed. Dean would always assure him he was doing the right things. Dean would bandage him up and get him a cup of coffee. Dean had given so damn much of himself that there was barely any Dean left, and for what? To be left like this? His world shattered around him? His father had given up his life for him. The one person he had loved was dead? Now the only salvation Dean had was Sam, and he knew that Sam could up and leave him at any moment. Dean was scared to death that he would be left with no one to turn to.
As he heard the water shutting off, Dean adjusted his position, coming out of his curled up position and trying to lie as he normally would. One of his hands stole under the pillow to wrap around his knife. His leg bent as he sprawled upon his stomach. He closed his eyes, trying to relax his body for the moment Sam came out. Dean didn't answer Sam’s question right away, fearing his voice would crack if he did. There was a pang in him from hearing the question, because Dean himself had never had to ask Sam that. He’d always just acted. It seemed that of the two of them he was the one that knew his brother better. Lately Dean knew he’d been acting like an ass, but he felt that he had to be the strong one for Sammy's sake.
"Whatever, Sam, I'm just tired," Dean answered, lifting his head to look at his brother. He dropped back down again, knowing how cold that sounded. "I'm okay," he mumbled.
Sam said nothing else; he merely climbed into bed behind Dean and put his arms around his brother, snuggling tightly against his back. He didn't speak, because he knew that there were just no words that he could have said to make his brother feel better, but he held on tightly, letting his warmth seep into Dean's still body.
It was hard for Sam to accept, but somewhere deep down inside him, he knew that he'd been the favored one, and that his big brother, so loving and so needy, had to some extent been on the outside looking in for most of his life. He had counted on Dean being there for as long as he could remember, but he had also taken him for granted. When he'd gone off to college, he'd pushed Dean away without really thinking of the consequences, or of what that might do to Dean. He had to somehow make up for that, and he didn't know now if his guilt and misery would be accepted by his brother, or if Dean would push him away.
He wouldn't be at all surprised if Dean did. He knew that he deserved it.
Sighing again, Sam kissed the back of Dean's neck. "If it means anything at all, dude, I love you."
Dean lay still for several long breaths. Slowly, after a long silence, Dean's leg straightened, his body twisted and he turned to face his brother. His arms slipped around Sam, clinging to him tightly.
"I love you too, Sammy," he murmured and buried his face into his brother's chest.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
End
Part 21: “Exit Light; Enter Night”
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Rated: NC 17 for hot boysex.
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek
Spoilers: Vague for the X-Files “Terma” and “Requiem”
Warning: Slash.
Word count: 10,114
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: We thank you for staying with us for the course of this story. This final episode is very sad for us in many ways.
The quoted song is “Enter Sandman,” by Metallica.
Part 20
Part 19
Part 18
Part 17
Part 16
Part 15
Part 14
Part 13
Part 12
Part 11
Part 10
Part 9
Part 8
Part 7
Part 6
Part 5
Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Say your prayers little one
Dont forget, my son
To include everyone
Tuck you in, warm within
Keep you free from sin
Till the sandman he comes
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
Off to never never land
Just as Alex was walking into his room, the door was shoved wide, and he was pushed inside, the door slammed behind him. An older man stood there, his eyes dark as he looked at the one who had just left the Winchester's room. He looked rough and worn around the edges. His features were rugged, but his eyes held warmth even though they were currently giving Alex a cold stare. "Who are you, and what were you doing leaving that room?"
Alex had put his hand into his pocket and grabbed his gun, not bothering to take it out, but merely pointing it through the fabric, at the intruder. "Who the fuck are you, and why do you want to know?" he growled, backing away as he spoke. "I'll give you ten seconds to explain your interest, or you're gonna find yourself in a lonely, unmarked grave. Go!" He withdrew his hand from his pocket, revealing his Glock.
John Winchester merely looked at the gun and then stepped forward. "I know who you are, Alex." His voice was low and resonant. "Yeah, I know your name. I know who you are. What you are." He moved forward until the gun was resting against his chest, his eyes intense. "You need to leave, and you need to leave now, and you need never to darken their doorway again. You got me?"
For a moment, Alex's eyes opened wide at the other man's words, and then he started to laugh. "No I don't!" he said, between guffaws. "I don't have to do a fucking thing, and you can return to whatever hole you crawled out of and play with yourself. Mind identifying yourself, so I can give you a nice headstone with an inscription?"
John stepped closer, pushing the gun even harder into his chest, "I’m John Winchester. Now you pack up your things. You get in your car and drive away, and you never look back. You crawl back to your Consortium. Back into the sewers you came from. You never see my sons again. You even darken their shadows, try to make contact with them, I will hunt you down and make sure you never do it again. You got me?"
"Yeah, I've got you, but you obviously ain't got me. Mind telling me why you think I should care, John Winchester, since you're the asshole that walked away from my Dean and left him on his own, with nobody?" Alex was angry now. On hearing that this was in fact Dean's father, he had clicked the safety back on his gun and put it back into his pocket, and now he went to sit on the bed. "Prize father you are; no wonder he was frantic with worry about you."
John walked over, grabbing Alex off the bed and slamming him against the wall. The anger was clear in his eyes and upon his face. "You don't know our family, and you don't know what is going on." You don’t know how much I love my boys.
"With all due respect, John Winchester," said Alex, his voice toneless. "You don't have a clue what I know. There's no chance that I'm gonna leave Dean; I love him."
"Really. Is that why you want to harm Sam? Because you love Dean. It's not love, Alex. It's possession for you."
"Harm him? What makes you think I want to harm him?" Alex stared at John, wondering where the hell he was getting his information from. "I just want to make Dean happy for once. You certainly haven't done too much of that yourself, have you?"
"Just stay away from my boys," John growled, his eyes intense, and the anger clear in his voice. He turned and tossed Alex onto the bed, "Now pack your things."
"And if I were to say no?" Alex was equally angry. "Don't you care about Dean at all? Don't you want him to be happy?" He turned his palm up helplessly. "You abandoned him, but I love him, and he loves me. I don't want anything to happen to Sam, because that would devastate Dean, and I want Dean to be happy. If you can prove to me that there's any real reason for wanting me out of the way, because it will hurt Dean more than losing me, I'll go, but you just telling me to get out isn't gonna do it. It just means that I go back and tell Dean, and he comes to kick your dog-in-the-manger ass."
He paused for a moment, looking at John. "I love Dean, Mr. Winchester. I want the best life for him that he can possibly have, and if that isn't what you want, I'll know it."
"I'm telling you to leave for Dean's own good. And don't you dare tell me how I feel about my boys," John snarled. "Your friends, they are coming back for you. They know where you are, and you are gonna get my boys killed. You are gonna get Dean killed, or worse." He moved to step before Alex once more. "They are gonna use Dean as bait once they find out, and then it will only be a matter of time, won’t it?"
The older Winchester reached into his jacket, tossing a folder down beside Alex. "Your girlfriend, Marita, is looking for you."
"She's not my girlfriend!" Alex spat out. "Hasn't been for years. If you know so much, why is she looking for me? The old man is dead now; there's nobody left that cares."
Inwardly, he felt chilled. Had he put Dean in danger? If anyone, anywhere, hurt Dean, he'd never forgive himself. "I don't want anything to happen to Dean. I mean it; I love him." He frowned. If what John Winchester was saying was true, then Dean was in trouble, and so was Sam. Alex couldn't let that happen. He felt his world end right there.
"Welcome to my world. You accused me of not loving Dean. Of abandoning him. I did it because I don't want my boys involved when... things go down." John left it at that. "I left to protect him. To protect Sam." He stepped back. "The people you play with are dangerous, Alexander. They won't hesitate to kill. And your friend, the old man, he's not dead. Though there seem to be puppets fighting to be the new puppet master. Your friend, Marita, wants you to run it with her." He paused, sure now from Alex’s expression that his message was going home.
"Your mess is not finished, and you're putting my boys in danger. You finish sorting out your mess, and then you can come back to Dean, if you still care by then."
"I don't want to run anything with her." Alex was shivering now. "I want Dean." He would have hugged himself, if he'd had two good arms. As it was, he merely stood, game face in place, chin lifted in the arrogant manner he’d always resorted to, when he didn't want people to know that he was suffering. "You sure that that evil old bastard is still alive? I killed him with my bare hands. What the hell is he?"
He seemed almost to have forgotten John as he reached for his phone and turned it on for the first time since he'd met up with Dean. Thumbing the speed dial, he called Marita, and after a few minutes he threw the phone from him in disgust. "I'll never be free, will I? God, how I hate them."
Turning back to John, he nodded. "Okay, you win. I'll leave, but I'm telling you, I'm not going back to the Consortium; I'm going to do what I can to stop them. They've fucked up my life, and I'm going to see that they don't win." He paused. "I want to say goodbye to him before I go," he said at last. “I vanished out of his life the last time. I don’t want to do that again. It wouldn’t be fair to Dean. He isn’t as strong as he wants you to think he is.”
John just stood there, taking in Alex's reaction. His frosty expression had melted somewhat; in a way, he felt for Alex. "You’d better not tell him I was here," was all he said. He was determined that his boys shouldn’t find out that he was ever there. John turned to leave and then paused. "Alex," John looked back at him. "There are some things that will never end... unless it's in death." Pulling open the door, John Winchester walked out, closing it behind him.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
A year passed. John Winchester was laid to rest in the only way that Sam and Dean knew, his corpse salted and burned, and the long, slow process of healing began, although it seemed to Sam that Dean was beyond broken, and that nothing could ever be right for his brother again. He tried hard, but try as he might he was rebuffed. Dean would give him nothing, merely turning his most annoyingly sarcastic attitude onto him and suffering on his own.
He sought for something to turn his brother around, feeling more and more the loss of the devil-may-care spirit of this man who had practically raised him, nursed him through his illnesses and given him everything that he couldn't have himself. He ached for Dean.
Since the one-armed man had left him, Dean had no longer looked at the cheap girls in bars; it was as if everything in him had shut down, and he was frozen into his grief. Finally, one day, finding themselves at a loose end after a hunt in Virginia, Sam took things into his own hands. It was his turn to drive, and his brother was sleeping, exhausted after a battle that had taken everything they had. Deciding that he had to take the chance, Sam turned the Impala towards Washington DC and headed into the nation's capital to find Krycek and make him come back to Dean.
Dean woke, sunglasses on, and he stretched purposefully, shoving his brother as he was driving. "Where are we?" he asked, smacking his lips from the dryness of sleep and looking about for a bottle of water. Traffic was speeding past them, so they were in some city. "What we doing here? You find something to hunt while I was sleeping, or is this another one of your visions?"
"Call it more of a premonition," said Sam, eyeing Dean and gesturing towards the water that had rolled onto the floor while his brother was sleeping. "There's something we need to hunt down, for sure. This is Washington DC, and we're looking for rodents - preferably the two legged kind, and especially the kind that are missing a limb.' They'd crossed the bridge, and Sam was approaching the Hoover building. "There it is;" he said, pointing with his thumb as they drove past. "That's the FBI headquarters. They ought to know where he is."
Dean had grabbed at the water, and he nearly choked on it at Sam’s words. His head whipped around to look at his brother as if he had gone insane. "What? The one city with the most cops... with what we do and we are looking for...." He couldn't even say his lover’s name. Dean had only heard from Alex once since that time, on his birthday. "I swear you have got to be high. He's probably not even here. Why bother?" He stared out the window. Dean hadn't thought the ache in his heart could get any worse, but somehow it had just succeeded.
Inspecting the FBI building, Dean frowned. He knew full well there were two badges in the glove box that could get them inside. "So what? You have a plan or something?"
"Kind of," said Sam, looking over to Dean to get a feel for how he was taking this. "You know that you've been pining for him, and if he didn't leave you an address, then the best chance we have of locating him is to get into the Hoover, find that office down in the basement that he told you about and search through the files ‘til we find him. If the dude he mentioned as being after him all the time is there, then we take him down and make him tell us where Alex is. That is my plan. Masterly, don't you think? And I so young." He spied a parking lot on a vacant site and pulled the car in, fishing through his pockets for change to buy a ticket.
Dean looked over at Sam and stole a line from his brother. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother, you freak?" He smacked Sam's leg. Dean pushed open the door but reached into the glove box and started looking for the IDs he had salted away. He pulled one out, and handed it over to Sam, "Here you go." Taking his own, he wondered if they should change. "We gonna have to play Blues Brothers again?" he asked over the car.
Deep down, Dean very much doubted they would find Alex. The sinking feeling in his stomach told him that it was over. Alex had left him that day for the rest of his life. Things between Alex and these others would never be over. And for some reason, there was a growing pit in his stomach, bigger even than before.
"Yeah, the suit and tie thing is required," said Sam with a grin. "Besides, if we find him, we want you looking spiffy, don't we?" Sam headed around to the trunk and found the suit bags, pulling the two of them out and passing one over to Dean. "Come on, dude. Let's get into the undertaker suit and get this done."
Dressing in the car was a comedy of errors. Dean went first, while Sam stood guard, and once he was decent, Sam took his place, fighting with his pants and cursing the thought that had caused him to come here.
Finally, both dressed in funereal black with white shirts and Sam's unruly mop temporarily gelled back off his face, the two men pinned on their badges and headed to the Hoover. "What was that dude's name?" asked Sam as they trotted up the stairs and into the building. "The one that was chasing your boy all over the place?"
Straightening his tie, Dean made a face as they walked toward the Hoover building. He couldn't believe he was doing this, or that Sam was willing. Dean stopped, looking up at his brother, "Sam, look, we don't have to do this."
Sam shot a glance at Dean and then nodded, "Yes we do."
Dean stared at Sam for a long time as his younger brother walked on and left him standing. Rushing to catch up with him, he was beside his brother as they entered the building. "I only remember the last name, Mulder." Together, the two of them approached security, flashed their badges and passed through, "Hey, can you tell me where Agent Mulder's office is?"
The guy laughed, "Spooky? Basement. Take the elevator all the way down, you can't miss it."
They followed the directions that the security guard had given them and were soon standing outside a door on which read the legend, "X-Files." It was locked.
The basement seemed deserted, and Sam dropped to his knees, swiftly working the tumblers of the lock so that the door popped open with a snick. "Tsk! You'd think that the FBI would pose more of a challenge, really, wouldn't you?" He grinned up at Dean as he rose to his feet and dusted off his knees.
Pushing open the door, it soon became obvious that this was the place they needed. Dean closed it behind them and headed for the filing cabinet, while Sam made a beeline for the computer, and soon they were working through files and folders that contained a wealth of information on all aspects of the supernatural.
When Sam finally broke Mulder's code and found a file labeled Krycek, Alex, he called Dean, and soon they were sifting through the information with their breath bated.
Dean had been looking through the files in the cabinet, chuckling. "I can't believe half this shit." He shook his head, stuffing a file back and thumbing through some others. "For a guy trying to prove this stuff exists, he is doing a really piss-poor job." At Sam's call, Dean moved over, leaned against his brother’s shoulder, and together they read the file.
From what Dean could see, Alex had been a busy boy in the early days. He frowned as he saw there had been a long space of time where nothing had been recorded until an entry that was recent. Dean suddenly felt his knees turn weak, and the blood drained from his face. He straightened up and backed away, blinking quickly, his jaw clenching tight. He swallowed hard, "Well that answers that," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Quick as a thought, Sam was up out of the seat, putting his arms around his brother to hold him tight, teeth clenching as he bit back words that he knew would only make things worse. Dead - Dean's lover was dead, and he, Sam, had taken away his brother's last hope of happiness. "God, Dean, I am so sorry," he whispered, knowing that the words meant nothing, and that his rash plan had backfired so completely that it deserved a space in the Guinness Book of World Records, or something.
Dean blinked, his face an emotionless mask though his eyes were filled with tears. He couldn't talk, dared not. Instead he reached up, gently pushing his brother away, "Shut that thing off and let's get out of here before..." He fell silent as he heard a sound. The voices of at least two men became steadily more audible. He shrugged at Sam, and then pushed him to the other side of the door as he drew his gun.
Doggett was the first in the door, "I'm telling you, there’s nothing there. You're only seeing what you want to see."
"You're wrong." The flat, nasal drawl of the man following him into the room spoke of a lifetime of getting his own way. The men were in before they noticed anything was wrong, and Fox Mulder froze as he saw the intruders. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, flinching a little as Sam pointed his gun and stood holding it on him.
"Shut up," Sam growled. He'd checked the badges, and realized that this was the Mulder that Dean had mentioned. "We've got some questions. Answer them, and we'll leave." He pointed to the chair and indicated that Doggett should sit, then swiftly used a set of handcuffs to secure him to it.
Doggett glared at the gun as the door was shut and locked. He’d put his hands up as he inspected the two young men who had guns upon them. "Questions?" Doggett lowered himself down and winced as Sam closed the cuffs around him tightly. "About what?"
Dean sauntered over to Mulder, his face now a mask of anger, "Sit down," came the low growl. When Mulder didn't comply fast enough Dean kicked his knee and forced him down, securing him to the second chair. He grabbed his hair and bent his head back, "Tell me you buried him." The gun in Dean's other hand was pointed right between Mulder's eyes.
"Okay, I buried him," said Mulder, sarcasm thick in his voice as he glared up at Dean. "What the hell are you talking about? And what are you doing in my office?"
Doggett rocked his chair forward, trying to reach the telephone on the desk, and Sam sighed, stepped over to him and clouted him behind the ear with his gun. Doggett went limp, and hung in the seat, his face slack, as Sam, eyes on his brother, reached for the phone jack and yanked it out of the wall.
"Alex Krycek," Dean spoke slowly in some effort to try and control his anger. It was taking everything he had to keep from pulling the trigger. To keep from seeing Mulder's brain splattered on his stupid ass poster of wanting to believe. "Did you bury him?"
"Did I?" Mulder stared at Dean, off-balance now as he sought through his memories. So much had happened that day. "No. Skinner said he'd dispose of him. Why do you want to know, anyway? He was a morally bankrupt bastard, with less conscience than a cockroach. Nobody will ever miss him."
Dean drew back and punched Mulder before grabbing him in the chair and slamming it back so the chair was on two legs and Mulder's head hit his desk. "YOU FUCKIN' BASTARD!" Dean was shaking. "You are the one that can't even rate on the level of a roach. You would give them a bad name. And you are so stupid. You only see what is around you, not the rest of the world. You are not the fucking sun, Muldick. Everything doesn't revolve around you."
Mulder shook his head, groggy from the effects of the repeated blows. He smiled, his full lips curling in derision. "Well, I guess that even a piece of slime like Alex Krycek has someone to mourn for him. If you want to know where he's buried, you're gonna have to go bother Walter Skinner, because I don't have a clue, and what's more, I don't care."
Sam frowned. Something was nagging him. "Where was he killed?" he asked.
"In the parking garage," said Mulder. "Just out back here."
Dean punched Mulder once again before jerking him back up. "I should just let him haunt your lame ass, because it's clear to me... you don't know jack shit about what you are doing, or how to find any of the things you’re looking for. Yeah, I read some of your files... you are a fucking idiot. Dirt has a higher IQ than you do." Dean kicked the chair over, looking to his brother. "Let's go," he glanced back to Mulder, "We'll be back, don't go anywhere."
"Dean, there's no evidence that he's haunting anywhere," said Sam as they left the X-Files, closing the door on the two imprisoned agents, leaving Doggett still unconscious and Mulder lying on the floor, bleeding from a cut lip, glaring at him. "You heard Mulder. This Skinner person that shot him probably burned his body or something."
As Dean continued walking towards the door that led to the parking garage, Sam sighed and followed him.
Dean shook his head, "As badly as they treated him, probably dumped his body in a river or something." He pushed open the door, letting it slam shut again as he walked out into the parkade. He slowed when they reached the area Mulder had described, and Sam swiftly located the stain on the concrete, where Alex Krycek’s blood had spilled out.
Dean’s hand still stung from hitting Mulder. He hesitated a moment and then finally moved over to where Sam was standing and looked down, swallowing hard. He crouched down at last, hand reaching to touch the place where the blood still lingered.
The air was suddenly cool, and Sam twitched, fumbling through his pockets for the EMF. "Dean," he said. "Something... I can feel something."
Dean looked up to Sam, "You have the EMF?" He too could feel the air around him turning cold, but there was a familiar scent to it. He felt his breath catch for a moment. "Xander?" he whispered.
At first it seemed as if nothing more would happen, and Sam was about to go back into the main building, when Alex walked out of the shadows. He looked younger than he had when last Dean had seen him, and it was plain to see that he had two arms once more. He came to a stop on the bloodstained concrete in front of Alex and stood looking down at the still crouching Dean.
"Hello, love," he murmured, and there was regret in his voice as he spoke. "My fault, Dean. I failed you."
Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. Alex was as he remembered him when they first met. He rose up, wanting to go to the man and hold him, kiss him, touch him but... A tear trickled down Dean's cheek as he stood there. "It's okay." He swallowed hard. "What happened, Xander?"
Alex's face changed, grew older, and he was suddenly dressed in more expensive clothes. He turned as a car roared up and a man got out of it. It could be seen that the man was Mulder. They couldn't hear a sound, but it was obvious that there was an altercation between them, and as Alex was speaking, wordlessly opening and closing his mouth, a third figure joined the two of them.
Dean watched as the scene played out. He swallowed hard, and then flinched as the tall, balding man shot his lover. Closing his eyes, Dean swayed, only to feel his brother's hands upon him. "I'm okay," he whispered then looked back at Alex. "Do... do you know where your body is?"
Lying on his back, the hole in his forehead gaping open like a third eye, Alex flickered, faded away, and all was silent again. They waited for a long time before regretfully turning away. It seemed as if Alex had gone, at least at that moment.
Sam, who was still standing very close to his brother, squeezed his shoulder. "Now what do we do? He's gone, and I don't know how you summon ghosts - just demons."
Dean closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, and drew in a long breath. "We better get out of here."
Sam took hold of Dean’s arm and started out, heading back toward the place where they’d parked their car. "Do we need to find this Skinner?" he asked, hoping to God that if they found him, Dean wouldn't skin him alive. They ran across the street to the Impala, and Sam unlocked the passenger door then went around to the driver’s side, looking at Dean over the roof of the car. "He should know where he dumped Alex's body or where it went or we can..." His words cut off.
"Or we can check the morgue," said Dean. He got into the car, pulled his FBI badge off and started searching for different ones. He was getting good at making these things.
"You calm down, bro. I'll drive." Sam settled himself behind the wheel and started the engine. "I don't know where the City Morgue is. You have any clue?"
The evening had come down on them without their noticing, and the street lights were flickering on. Sam flipped on the headlights as they pulled away. "Should be easy enough to find tomorrow. Probably won't be open now though. It's getting late.
"You don't need to go there," murmured Alex, from the rear seat, causing Sam to swerve and making the truck driver behind them honk his horn angrily. "Dean... I need you to help me. I need you to do whatever it is that you guys do to lay me to rest."
Dean jumped at the voice, but quickly turned around to see Alex sitting in the back seat, smiling at him. His heart was pounding, and he stared at the spirit of the man he’d loved. "I guess we don't, now you’re here," he nodded, "I know, I'm trying to help. If we can find your body, we can put you to rest. You... I don't care what they say. You deserve that because... you do." Dean nodded.
"You gonna salt me and burn my bones?" Alex gave Dean a half smile. "I guess that's what you do, isn't it? Salt and burn." His face turned ugly, the wound in his forehead flickering in and out of existence before Alex's ghost settled down again to resemble the young man Dean had first rescued and loved. "Too bad you can't salt and burn the bald fuck that put me in my grave."
Dean insides ached, and he had to look away, the pain of all he had gone through showing on his face in one shot. When he finally dared to look up, Alex’s appearance had reverted to youthful once more. "Hmm," he nodded, turning back. "It's tempting." He glanced at Sam, who was concentrating manfully on driving. "Where are you, Xander?" Dean finally asked Alex, returning his gaze to the back seat.
The ghost appeared to peer out of the window, and the brothers could feel the cold air from the back of the car as he put his head between them. "Okay, take a right here and head out towards the arboretum." He reached forward and laid his right hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean could feel the eerie touch like a jolt of electricity. "I'm in the Eastern Cemetery. They dumped me naked, and my identity was never found - Skinner made sure of that."
Shivering from the touch, Dean gasped at the jolt and turned his head to his one time lover. "We'll take care of it." He turned back, "You know where you are going, Sammy?" With a nod, Dean fought to school his face not to allow any more emotions to show.
As Sam pulled the car up at the cemetery, Dean climbed out to find a shovel and the gas can. Sam followed behind with the salt, and the two brothers began to walk, looking about themselves anxiously. "I'm starting to hate cemeteries," Dean mumbled to Sam as he probed the darkness with the flashlight. The air was cold, Dean felt cold, and he knew that people would say what they were about to do was cold hearted. But it was to put his lover to rest. To lay to rest the happiness that now could never be. Dean was all too well aware that he would be burying any dreams he might have had.
"Dean." The ghost had followed, was walking beside him, looking as solid as he had ever done in real life. "Your father was the one that told me to get away from you. He was right. You'd be dead with me now, if I hadn't bailed on you and led them away."
As they finally arrived at the lonely grave, Alex turned, put out a hand, touched Dean's face, warmer now, almost feeling alive. "I loved you; I really did; I still do." He bent forward a little and kissed Dean's mouth, the whisper of lips over his. "So do it, love, and hurry, before I change my mind and beg you to keep me with you."
He studied the wooden marker that was his only headstone. "There's nobody else to remember me, and that's probably a very good thing for all of us. You've been through so much, but I know you have a chance to be happy, if you take it."
Dean closed his eyes, his body shaking with emotion. He’d only let Sam see him that way once. Now he was showing it again as Dean felt his world shattering down all around him. He’d lost his mom, given up his childhood for his brother and father, given up all his dreams for them. He’d had his father give up his own life for him to live without asking him what he thought. He’d feared, always feared Sam would be next, and that he would be the one to leave him, but he’d been wrong, Sam remained, but Alex was gone, taken from him in the worst way. Now he was learning that his father had been the one who told his lover to leave.
Dean opened his eyes, swallowing hard, glancing at Sam before turning back to Alex, "My father never gave me a chance to say... what I would have wanted to say, but..." He cleared his throat, "I love you, Xander. Just wish... we could have one more time." Dean dropped the gas can and the shovel and pressed his hands to his face.
"We should get to it," he said at last.
"Did you ever see Ghost?" Sam had been waiting, watching as his brother's heart took yet another beating, but now he stepped forward. "Dude, I don't know if it can be done for real, but we can try, can't we?"
Alex suddenly looked thoughtful. "I guess we can give it a whirl, since you're psychic Psammy!" For a moment, the ghost grinned, and then he stepped forward, walked straight into Sam, and the lanky young ghosthunter's eyes opened wide as he felt the presence inside him. A moment later, he fell to the ground.
There was a rushing in Dean's ears. It had come to this, and now Sammy was apparently unconscious. As he stumbled forward and knelt down beside his brother, Sam's eyes opened and he reached up with his arms to pull Dean down against him. "Holy shit," said Sam. "It worked."
"Sammy?" Dean asked, holding his brother tightly, but suddenly as he looked into those eyes, he could only see Alex, even if he wore the moles and the sexy smile of his brother. "Xander, is that you? Oh God, Sammy, what did you do?" He brushed his hand through Sam's hair, collecting his thoughts and finally accepting what Sam was trying to give to him.
Holding his brother’s body so tightly that he was almost crushing him, Dean whispered, "I wish you wouldn't have left. I didn't want you to leave, but who was I to tell you not to?" He pulled back, his eyes glassy once more and then leaned in, kissing him deeply. "You really want to do this here, on your grave? I know you were kinky but..." He smiled.
Alex rolled them over and smiled down at Dean out of Sam's eyes, then bent to kiss him. "It's gonna be better than it was the last time we did it, love. I've got two arms again." He gave a short laugh. "That's one perk of being a ghost, I guess. And for this, I'll take it."
They kissed for a long time, Sam's fingers stroking Dean in a way his brother never had, Sam's mouth uttering endearments that would have made the man himself blush. "I want to do everything to you. I don't ever want you to forget me, Dean. I won't forget you, no matter where I am."
Slowly opening Dean's clothes, Alex kissed his way down Dean's body, mouth straying to lick, or nibble or suck at every part. "When I'm gone, you'll still have Sam, you know," he said softly.
Dean's body came alive. He wasn't sure if it was because of Sam's presence or because he was with his lover once again for the last time. He gasped and moaned, little curses leaving him as Alex worked him with his own brother's hands. "I know," he breathed, "I love him. I love you."
"I'll never forget you, Xander. I can't; it’s not possible." Dean's finger groped at Sam's clothing, pulling to expose his brother's skin. When he looked up into those eyes, he could see green gazing back at him. He saw his lover which made Dean's heart melt and ache at the same time. Exposed as they were, they couldn’t get completely naked, but Dean was willing to give that up for this last opportunity to show Alex how much he loved him.
Simultaneously surging up and pushing down, he pulled Alex into a deep kiss that was at the same time hungry and needful. "Want you," he moaned. Teeth sank into skin. Hands pushed at Sam's pants, getting them open so he could sneak a hand inside to grasp his cock and Dean smirked, knowing that what he was whispering was sure to either make Sam inside blush or be jealous.
Sam/Alex closed his eyes and moaned as Dean's fingers caressed him. Pulling Dean's pants open, he reciprocated, palming Dean's erection, sliding a knowing hand up and down as he tugged it free from his clothing. "You know, I used a lot of people, but I only ever loved you," he said softly, moving down until he could lick at the tip of the cock he was holding, swirling his tongue around the ridge where head joined shaft.
For a few moments he lavished attention on the crown, kissing and sucking at it so that he could hear Dean cry out, and then he suddenly sucked him all the way in, mouth working, saliva and hot wet tissue surrounding him.
"Yeah, well so have I," Dean had to admit, "But not after you left and... and after my father's death." He squirmed at his own honesty, but then he let out a cry as his cock ached for that hot mouth. Dean looked down, watching his brother's dark head working him the way he never had before. He knew that Sam wasn't this skilled.
Dean gripped the dark locks, giving them a little push even though he knew he really didn't have to. "God, you are so good at this. Shit!" Dropped back, he pushed his hips up into that delicious mouth and spread his legs wider with need. "Shit, Xander, fuck me, please."
Willing hands tugged at Dean's jeans, dragging them down and then discarding them, so that Dean's lower half lay exposed in the faintly misty moonlight. Lips nuzzled and mumbled over Dean's cock, along his thighs, down behind his balls, until Dean's breathing turned ragged, and he began to beg.
When at last the ghost in Sam's body reared up onto his knees and pulled Dean onto his thighs, he crouched, gazing down on Dean, Alex's expression on Sam's face, before leaning forward and beginning to press himself inside Dean.
Dean was squirming and clutching, back arching as little soft obscenities emerged from his lips. His eyes closed tightly against the pressure of Sam's cock entering him. It had been a very long time since he and Sam had done this. There was pain at first, before he could relax enough to give way and then the burn turned into something sweet and full of sensation. Dean gave himself over to it, clinging onto Sam's upper arms. As he gazed up, all he could see was Alex’s sweet face, Alex’s tender expression and loving eyes. "Love you. Always will," he breathed, even as his eyes shone with tears.
He groaned deeply, working his hips along with those pumping into him. "Oh, man, Xander, you..." Dean groaned again, head pressing back as his back tried to arch. God he loved the feel of this, even though the feeling was tearing him apart on so many levels. Levels he knew he was going to have to learn to shut off or bleed to death from the emotional wounds he’d received.
Once inside Dean, Alex moved gently, not wanting this to be over until it had to be. Instead he crouched, gazing down at his love, hands caressing wherever they could reach. "I wish things could have been different. Maybe we'll get another chance in some future lifetime, you think?"
Tears glinted on Sam/Alex's cheeks, and he leant forward as far as he could, pulling Dean up so that their lips could meet. "You promise me that you and Sam will be happy?" he whispered.
Dean wished for that as much as Alex did - wished that for once the people around Dean would stop leaving him. He swallowed hard as a salty tear dropped down onto him, searing his skin. He wasn’t sure that was a promise he could make. All his other promises had fallen apart when he'd made them. All he could do was nod, knowing his brother was probably listening, watching, and experiencing the intense feelings the two of them had shared when he wasn't around.
"Anything is possible," Dean whispered as he surged up again to capture those lips, even if it meant bending his body into a position that resembled a pretzel. Grabbing, clutching, caressing, Dean let himself open up, baring himself to Alex, to Sam as he was moved. The ring Alex had given him left an impression upon Sam's skin as Dean held on tightly to keep from moving under the tender assault of his lover - his one time lover, he supposed.
Passion grew, and the two of them plunged towards completion, and there would be bruises on both Dean and Sam before the night was through. Alex didn't speak again, because he couldn't. His throat was so tight with the pain of loss that he just couldn't say a word. He concentrated instead on kissing Dean, sucking on his lover's tender mouth, stealing his breath as they moved together - no words, merely tiny sounds, little moans, groans and grunts that told of the bitter-sweet pleasure of this last ever lovemaking
It didn't take much longer. Alex could feel Sam's body tightening, knew that he couldn't hold on much longer and took hold of Dean's cock, squeezing it and stroking it as he tried to make sure that Dean came with him when he finally released.
Dean's lashes were wet with tears. This moment was soon going to be over, and his heart was going to be torn from him once again, the way it had been when he’d seen the words upon the screen that had announced Alex’s death - the way it had been when he’d seen his father upon the bed and heard the doctor calling the time - the time that would be forever in his memory. And just the way it had been when he’d watched the house burn that he’d called his home. Now if ever, Dean understood Sam and how his little brother felt about his loss over Jessica.
With eyes closed tightly, Dean let out a gurgled cry as his release slammed into him, letting go all the emotions that were pinned up inside him. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, sliding down his temples to the ground. The hot splash of his own seed burned his chest even as he felt Sam/Alex fill him. Dean felt shattered, and he started to fight hard to gather those pieces together once more, before his brother returned, and Alex left.
Alex sprawled out over his lover, Sam's body limp and boneless as he collapsed, his head pillowed on Dean's shoulder, his arms stealing round him to hold him close as they lay in the grass on Alex's grave. For a while, neither of them spoke, and then Alex shook Sam's unruly mop of hair back from his face and raised himself to look at Dean.
"Best we get going, love. There isn't too much of the night left, and you don't want to be here once the day breaks." He kissed Dean one last time, lips soft and face full of regret. "I'll never forget that day you found me in the silo there, how gorgeous you looked, and how much you made me want you. Did I ever tell you that I found out what the black stuff was? It was an alien that had the power to possess people, just the way that those demons of yours can. Later, I saw a lot of people that were infected by it. I even infected one of them myself, on purpose."
"Hope they deserved it," Dean managed to get out from his closed throat. He swallowed hard once again. "If we run into them, we'll be sure to fry one up for you." He was grimly building his walls back up, trusting Alex to let it happen. "We’d better hurry; Sammy and I have some digging to do." He grabbed at his brother, but whispered to what was inside him. "I... I lied to Sam once, when I told him I didn't know what it was like to lose a love like he had with his girl. I did know. I do know, and I always will know."
Dean felt them separate, and he held back all the sounds that wanted to escape him. "Xander... Is he going to remember all this?" He asked, eyes red-rimmed and blinking fast with tears.
"I don't know." Alex smiled wryly. "I never tried to possess a living person before." He smiled wider and sat up to start adjusting his clothing. "Maybe I could go possess Walter Skinner and have him drive off a bridge into the Potomac or something." He paused and frowned in the act of pulling his pants up. "I guess that sounds like your typical, evil ghost, but it isn't. I was a killer before I died. I haven't changed. That's all. I get these urges from time to time."
He scrambled to his feet again and stooped to offer Dean his hand, pulling his lover up into his waiting arms. "So I guess I should get out of your brother and let him cope with the wet spot in his undies," he said, looking down into Dean's tearful eyes. "I won't be gone completely, you know. I'll always be watching you, loving you."
Dean dressed himself the rest of the way, arching his back as he slid his pants back up and closed the zipper. He could understand Alex’s desire to kill the one who had killed him, especially lately. There were urges in him he didn't want to face, and hunting seemed to be the only thing that would make them go away for a while.
What's dead should stay dead. Those words repeated in Dean's mind even as his heart tried to reject them. He swallowed and nodded, "Just, give me some privacy in the shower now and again." He gave a quick, sad little smile before slowly pulling away.
It had to come to an end at last. Sam gave a shudder, and his breathing faltered, and suddenly, he was Sam again, and Alex was gone as if he'd never been. For a moment, Sam staggered, putting out a hand to hold himself up in case he fell on his face.
"You okay?" he asked, peering at Dean, a worried frown on his face. "What happened?" He checked his watch, apparently disoriented. When Dean didn't answer immediately, he picked up his shovel and started to dig. "Dude, you still want to do this?" he asked.
Dean just stared at Sam for the longest moment before, like his father, he schooled his face, and he nodded, "Yeah, we... need to." Dean grabbed at the shovel, not sure if Sam was lying about not remembering or if he really wasn't faking. The shovel cut into the dirt, and with each removal of dirt, Dean felt his heart aching worse. His only fear now was that they hadn't put Alex into a box before interring him.
After a long while, finally the brothers struck something. Dean looked over at Sam and shrugged. He drew a shaky breath and grabbed the pry bar. "Okay, let's do this. Get the salt and gas, hand it down," Dean stabbed the bar in to get the box open. He didn't want to look in, but he couldn’t stop himself, and he winced at the sight before prizing the box open the rest of the way. Climbing out, he grabbed the salt and started pouring it over Alex’s body, while Sam did the same with the gas.
Dean stood at the edge for a long while before pulling a lighter out and setting it afire and tossing it in. He didn't say anything, merely stood there, staring into the blaze with tears in his eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to hide the trembling of his bottom lip, not wanting to let it show that a tear slipped down. "We should really get out of town right away, before I..." Dean grabbed the shovel without saying another word.
"Yeah, dude, you got it." For once, Sam didn't argue, didn't find six million reasons why they should stay; he merely shouldered his shovel and straightened up. "You sure that you're okay?"
Dean didn't answer, and Sam hadn't expected him to. This was Dean's own, private grief, and the closest he would ever be able to come to it was in the pain of losing Jess. Wisely, Sam kept silent and led Dean back to the Impala, wordlessly loaded the shovels into the trunk and then said, "I'll drive," in a tone that brooked no argument.
The motel they found was expensive and only half way decent. As Sam rented the room, Dean merely sat staring into space, and finally Sam had to go fetch him out of the car to come inside.
Dean hadn't at first felt the nudge from Sam ‘til his brother tugged at his sleeve to encourage him to get out of the Impala. Slowly he left the car behind, exchanging it for the darkened room. Dean tossed his bag down on the floor and headed for the bathroom. "Gonna shower," he announced without looking back. The door closed behind him, and this time Dean locked it, something he rarely did. Eyes drifted about the bright room, taking in the neatly rolled up towels, the shower curtain that was pulled back to reveal a clean tub. His eyes finally came to rest upon his own reflection and he noted that he had reddened eyes that looked as if h was seriously lacking sleep, or was on a drug bender. Dark circles under his eyes completed the effect, standing out starkly in his pale face.
Dean moved over toward the mirror, just standing there. He felt like he was in a living hell. His father's death was still fresh in him even if it had been months since it happened, and now a new scar had formed, adding to the gaping hole that lay in his heart. If he were to lose Sam as well, Dean's world would be fully shattered. He would be alone. He felt a heaviness suddenly come over him, and his knees nearly gave out. Fresh tears began to form, and Dean swallowed hard, then moved to turn the shower on, stripping off his clothing as he went.
The water was really hot, scalding in fact as he got in, leaning with one hand on the shower wall, while his head dropped down and his tears flowed freely. His quiet sobs were masked by the rattle of the exhaust fan, and the water raining down around him. It was long moments before Dean started to wash away any dirt his activities had left on him. He wanted to wash away the thoughts in his head too - thoughts of burying alive the two bastards that had killed Alex, thoughts of solemnly cursing them for giving him the burial that they had. He guessed it was a small favor that they’d given him even that much, but still the need to hurt them as much as he hurt was there, weighing heavy. He and Sam needed to get as far from this place as possible, to put several states between them as soon as they could.
Sam paced while Dean was in the bathroom, worried for his brother and knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. He'd made sure that Dean had left his weapons out in the bedroom, and now he was striding restlessly back and forth in the hotel bedroom, wracking his brains as he attempted to think of anything that might comfort Dean.
He wondered if Dean would want to go after Krycek's murderers, and wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not. On the one hand, he figured that it might give his desolate brother a mild sense of satisfaction, and on the other, Dean really didn't need the feds chasing him as well as everything else on his plate. For himself, Sam had just begun to like Krycek when the man had disappeared. He'd truly enjoyed watching the way that Alex had brought Dean out of himself and had begun to accept that the love between the two of them was real. Now he was left to pick up the pieces. That made him cranky.
When Dean finally emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam, Sam went to him and put his arms around him, not caring if Dean would be sarcastic or not, but just wanting to feel his brother’s warmth against him.
Dean's skin was red both from the shower and from having Sam greet him as he stepped from the bathroom wrapped only in a towel. He made a face as Sam hugged him, but once his brother was holding him, Dean closed his eyes tightly, wet his lips and drew a breath to keep his emotions safely swallowed down.
Lifting his hands, Dean finally protested, "Dude, get off me, you are all dirty," and pushed Sam gently away, steeling his face much as his father always had. "Take a shower, Sammy; I left you some hot water." He moved around Sam, going to his bag to get some clean underwear before crawling into bed.
Numbly, Sam nodded. It was true; he was grubby, covered in grave dirt and smuts from the burning of Alex's remains. He undressed down to his underwear and headed into the bathroom to start getting himself clean. He had no idea what to do for Dean, so he concentrated on washing himself and making himself fresh, thinking that at least he could do that.
Once he was clean, he draped the towel around his hips and went back out, wondering if he should climb into bed with Dean or leave him. "Dude. You want me to hold you?"
Dean lay in his bed while Sam was washing up, letting the sound of the shower create a numbness in his head. That was good because thinking right now was the last thing he wanted to do. The walls around him were trying to build up higher. Dean knew he had changed with the loss of his father. His father had always placed a very heavy weight upon him. He had admitted to that in the hospital, and not once had Dean complained, knowing that it was for his family. However even as he’d admitted it, his father had placed another burden on him, and Dean could feel himself cracking now under the weight.
Then there was Alex, who had been the one person who loved him for himself, and who wasn't tied to his family. Alex hadn’t felt like he had some obligation to love him; he just had. He hadn't placed anything on Dean; instead he had given. Alex had given him the love that he craved but couldn't seem to get from his own family. Dean had thought he wasn't going to be alone forever. There had always been that little glimmer of hope in the back of his mind that Alex would be there for him, but now that had been stomped out. Burned away just like his bones. Forever lost to him.
Dean clutched at his pillow, his face buried in it and his back to the bathroom door. Dean loved his little brother, he always had. However, deep down, Dean had always been jealous of him. Sam seemed always to have taken first place in everything the family did. John had placed Sam first. Dean had always been the afterthought. When his father would come home from a hunt, Sam was always the first one he checked on, while Dean had been left to drag his father’s heavy bag to a table and look it over, waiting ‘til his father came back to settle heavily into a chair or onto a bed. Dean would always assure him he was doing the right things. Dean would bandage him up and get him a cup of coffee. Dean had given so damn much of himself that there was barely any Dean left, and for what? To be left like this? His world shattered around him? His father had given up his life for him. The one person he had loved was dead? Now the only salvation Dean had was Sam, and he knew that Sam could up and leave him at any moment. Dean was scared to death that he would be left with no one to turn to.
As he heard the water shutting off, Dean adjusted his position, coming out of his curled up position and trying to lie as he normally would. One of his hands stole under the pillow to wrap around his knife. His leg bent as he sprawled upon his stomach. He closed his eyes, trying to relax his body for the moment Sam came out. Dean didn't answer Sam’s question right away, fearing his voice would crack if he did. There was a pang in him from hearing the question, because Dean himself had never had to ask Sam that. He’d always just acted. It seemed that of the two of them he was the one that knew his brother better. Lately Dean knew he’d been acting like an ass, but he felt that he had to be the strong one for Sammy's sake.
"Whatever, Sam, I'm just tired," Dean answered, lifting his head to look at his brother. He dropped back down again, knowing how cold that sounded. "I'm okay," he mumbled.
Sam said nothing else; he merely climbed into bed behind Dean and put his arms around his brother, snuggling tightly against his back. He didn't speak, because he knew that there were just no words that he could have said to make his brother feel better, but he held on tightly, letting his warmth seep into Dean's still body.
It was hard for Sam to accept, but somewhere deep down inside him, he knew that he'd been the favored one, and that his big brother, so loving and so needy, had to some extent been on the outside looking in for most of his life. He had counted on Dean being there for as long as he could remember, but he had also taken him for granted. When he'd gone off to college, he'd pushed Dean away without really thinking of the consequences, or of what that might do to Dean. He had to somehow make up for that, and he didn't know now if his guilt and misery would be accepted by his brother, or if Dean would push him away.
He wouldn't be at all surprised if Dean did. He knew that he deserved it.
Sighing again, Sam kissed the back of Dean's neck. "If it means anything at all, dude, I love you."
Dean lay still for several long breaths. Slowly, after a long silence, Dean's leg straightened, his body twisted and he turned to face his brother. His arms slipped around Sam, clinging to him tightly.
"I love you too, Sammy," he murmured and buried his face into his brother's chest.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
End