Crossover Fic: Common Bonds - Part 2
Well, whaddya know, the thing was so damn long, I had to break it up into two parts. Never had that happen before.
See Part 1 for header info.
Common Bonds - Part 2
Thinking back to his own now-defunct dinner plans, Charlie snorted. And then looked at Dean in horror. “Wait a minute--you’re not going to eat this thing, are you?”
Dean made a gagging sound. “Hell, no! Trust me, a Behemoth is not fit for eating, and if I do my job right, the only thing left of it will be fertilizer.” He frowned. “Not that anyone would use it for fertilizer, unless they want their crops to turn on them.”
“What?”
“Nothing. So tell me, Professor, what’s your name?”
“My name?”
“We didn’t have time for formal introductions, and unless you want me to call you ‘Professor’ for the rest of our time together...”
“It’s Charles. Charlie.”
“Charlie,” Dean nodded, looking at him. “It suits you.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “Professor Charlie Eppes, mathematician. Tough gig. You must have been a real babe magnet at school.”
“Hardly,” he chuckled. “They were all much older than I am.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that work?”
“I skipped a few grades.”
“Really? Smart guy, huh?”
“You could say that,” Charlie said, hiding his smile. He didn’t want to intimidate Dean with his intellect, though he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say or do that would intimidate the man. He seemed so self-assured, so certain in everything he said and did. He had the same easy manner Don always had whenever they were spending time together away from work. If Dean had been one for obeying the rules, Charlie bet the man would have made a pretty decent agent.
“Me,” Dean said as he ducked under a branch, “I was lucky to make it through high school. Not because I’m stupid,” he said, quick to patch up any holes in his image he might have caused. “We just moved around a lot and school was never a priority. At least, not for me. Sammy, on the other hand, he’d have been thrilled if he had nothing better to do than climb on the jungle gym with his friends and enter spelling bees.”
“Spelling’s never been my forte. Just numbers.”
“And this is mine,” Dean said as he crouched down to study something hanging from the rough bark of a tree. He lifted up a few strands of fur between his fingers and held them to his nose. He sniffed, then quickly drew his hand away, his face scrunching in disgust.
“What?”
Dean handed him the fur and Charlie took a quick sniff, then coughed, dropping the hairs to the ground.
“What is that? Sulfur?”
“Yep,” Dean nodded, standing up.
“What kind of animal smells like sulfur?”
“Not one created by nature,” Dean said as he stood up, brushing his hand against his jeans. His eyes searched the forest, his entire body on alert, exactly the way Don’s was when he was nearing in on a suspect. Watching him, Charlie tried to ignore the thrill that ran through his blood. Don in agent mode had never failed to turn him on, and seeing the edgier, rougher version of that in Dean was having the same effect.
And the jeans were definitely not helping.
It was amazing how the possibility of a gruesome death was made more bearable when accompanied by a nice ass in a pair of jeans. Still, it wasn’t enough to distract him from yet another of Dean’s odd statements.
“One not created by nature? What are you talking about?”
“Long story,” Dean said. “Highly uninteresting. No numbers involved at all. I’d tell you, but I wouldn’t want to put you to sleep.”
“Why don’t I believe a word you just said? Beyond ‘long story’, that is.”
“Because I was lying. Trust me, Charlie,” he said, turning around enough to meet his eyes, “this is a story you’re better off not knowing. Working with your brother, I’m guessing you see the bad side of people every day. That’s enough for one person to handle. You don’t need to know what else is out there.”
“More than just the Behemoth?”
“A lot more.”
Charlie gazed into his face and what he saw there sent a chill down his spine. “Okay.”
“You’re a smart man, Professor,” Dean smiled, shoulders relaxing with relief.
“Yes, I know.”
“Modest, too,” he chuckled. “So what do you do for fun?” Dean asked as he returned to his search.
“My job.”
“There’s that babe magnet status again.”
He blushed. “I can’t help it. My work takes up most of my time, not that I’m complaining. I love it.”
“And when you do get a moment to yourself?”
“I do this--sports, I mean. I hike, I play basketball, snowboard, and I’ve recently taken up golf.”
Dean snorted. “Golf’s not a sport.”
He chuckled. “I’m not all that fond of it myself, but my dad’s teaching me and it’s a chance to spend time with him, so I suffer through it.”
“Oh yeah? Well, in that case, I guess it’s not too bad.”
Charlie was not oblivious to the wistful note in Dean’s voice. “Do you get to see your dad often?”
“Not so much anymore. We’ve grown apart over the past year, not that we were ever really close. My family’s not what you would consider...”
“Normal?” Charlie supplied, then shrugged. “Whose is?”
“Yeah, but my family--we go beyond the usual normal of abnormal. My mom died when I was young, and it destroyed us. My dad never recovered, and my brother took off the first chance he got to get away from him.”
“Sounds a lot like my family, only my brother took off first, then my mom died, and my dad... well, he’s actually doing better than the rest of us. Don and I... I was kind of the reason he left, so it’s only recently that we’ve actually gotten a chance to be brothers. Is that how it was with you and Sam?”
“Something like that, except we’ve always been pretty close. It’s only now he’s stopped resenting it.”
“Your closeness?”
“That. Our family. Me.” Dean stopped and turned around to look at Charlie. “I lost the trail. We need to double back, try to pick it up again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable when Dean stepped towards him with a predatory look in his eye. “I shouldn’t have been distracting you.”
“No need to apologize. I was the one asking questions, Professor,” he said, brushing against Charlie as he passed even though there was more than enough space for the two of them. “I should have been paying more attention.”
Charlie couldn’t help feeling a little relief after Dean had moved on down the trail. He had been so certain that he might--that he would...but it wasn’t important. It hadn’t happened and there was no point dwelling on it.
“Coming?”
He shook himself out of his stupor. “Yeah,” he said, and hurried to catch up.
“So what do you think our brothers are talking about?” Dean asked, his eyes glued to the ground.
“Just like we’re talking about them, I’m sure they’re talking about us.”
“Yeah,” Dean smiled, “that’s what I was thinking.”
“It’s the only common factor between us.”
“I don’t know about that. We’ve just pointed out several things we have in common.”
“True, but Don’s not exactly known for his interpersonal communication skills.”
“Neither am I, yet here I am, blabbing to you. Plus, you don’t know Sammy. He’s got that instinctively trustworthy air about him--people just naturally start telling him their life stories without him even having to ask. I’ll bet your brother’s talking up a storm right this very minute.”
Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know Donny. He won’t give in that easily. He’s trained not to.”
“Want to bet on that?” Dean asked, taking his eyes off the trail long enough to wriggle his eyebrows at Charlie, who shook his head.
“I just met you. It would be rude to take your money so quickly.”
“You’d just end up eating your words, Professor. I’ll put my baby brother’s puppy dog eyes up against your brother’s government training any day.”
“It’ll take more than a pair of puppy dog eyes to win over my brother.”
“Really? So he never gives in to yours?”
Charlie blinked. “Mine?”
“Yes, yours. You’re telling me your brother’s immune to your puppy dog eyes?”
“I don’t have puppy dog eyes, and even if I did, my relationship with Don is not based upon that sort of adolescent manipulation. We’re adults, and we treat each other as such.”
Dean didn’t answer beyond keeling over with laughter, and Charlie glared at him.
“I’m being serious.”
“I know,” Dean said between guffaws as he turned around. “That’s what makes it so funny.” Still chuckling, Dean lifted Charlie’s chin with his free hand. “Charlie, you have two of the biggest puppy dog eyes I have ever seen, and when you look at him with those eyes surrounded by those dark curls, I’m willing to bet your brother can’t resist you. Hell, I barely can, and I’ve just met you.”
Charlie gulped as he looked up into Dean’s face and saw the barely checked desire there, a desire echoed within himself. In that moment, if Dean made a move, he knew he wouldn’t even put up a fight.
“Dean, I...” But then he caught something shifting out of the corner of his eye and his blood turned to ice. “Dean, it’s behind you!”
The hunter whirled around, firing his gun the second he spotted the Behemoth. The bullets grazed the monster’s side and it sent up an enraged howl into the forest as it charged them.
“Charlie, fire!” Dean shouted as he reloaded his gun, running at the monster, then screamed as it clawed him across his stomach and sent him flying into a tree.
Feeling as if he was watching the whole scene from a distance, Charlie raised his arm and pulled the trigger, firing off one shot after another into the head of the beast until his gun was empty. Blood sprayed up from where the bullets hit the creature, smoke rising from its wounds, but didn’t seem to slow it down.
The Behemoth was unlike anything Charlie had ever seen.
It had an oval-shaped head with two holes on either side for ears and its nose lay flat against its face with two flaring nostrils above its upper lip. Its mouth looked like a bear trap from the way it opened flat to reveal spiny sharp teeth, and then snapped shut with a force he knew would sever anything caught in-between. It had a long neck that was attached to a large, round body, its skin covered in the thick brown fur they’d found earlier. Its legs were thick as tree trunks and its feet ended in razor-sharp claws that shredded the earth beneath it as it ran.
It was the eyes, though, that frightened Charlie the most. The monster’s eyes, as brown as its fur, were not the eyes of an animal. They looked human.
“Charlie, down!” Dean shouted from where he was struggling to his feet.
He dropped to the ground, a little too late. One of the Behemoth’s paws swiped at his arm as it rushed past, sending the gun flying into the brush. He cried out a the sudden pain, a burning sensation flying up his arm, but quickly pushed it aside and scrambled towards the area where the gun had landed.
“Charlie!” Dean shouted, falling to the earth next to him as the Behemoth circled for another run--fortunately, something that large had a hard time slowing down and turning back around. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” he said, his hand grasping the cold handle of the gun. “But I’m out of bullets.”
Dean was already digging through his backpack and handed Charlie a couple of clips. “Keep it distracted,” he said, pulling out a book and a wicked-looking knife with a blade as long as Charlie’s forearm. “I’ve got to get close enough to shove this into its chest.”
“How?!”
Shrugging, Dean flashed him a grin. “Pure dumb luck would be my guess. Now get ready, because here it comes!”
They both jumped to their feet, Dean moving off to the side and leaving Charlie to face the creature on his own.
This time, he was fully aware of his surroundings as he met the Behemoth’s eyes and was again struck by how human they appeared. If it wasn’t for the raging bloodlust and unbridled cruelty he saw in them, he might have mistaken the Behemoth for an elaborate costume. The human appearance of its eyes made it difficult for him to raise the gun--the lack of humanity in them made it easy for him to pull the trigger.
He aimed for the right knee of its front legs and managed to blow it out. The Behemoth stumbled towards the ground, howling its fury as it snapped at him with its teeth. Charlie fired again, aiming for its gaping mouth until it was a mangled bloody mess, but still the creature refused to relent. By now, the air was filled with smoke and reeked of sulfur, both coming from the beast’s wounds. Charlie knew this was significant, somehow, but his brain was only taking in information, not processing it. Processing would cause a breakdown, one he couldn’t afford until all this was over, and possibly not even then. Emptying the first clip, he reloaded and continued firing.
The sound of chanting reached his ears between cracks from the gun and the screaming of the Behemoth. He glanced over to see Dean approaching the creature, the book lying open in one hand, the knife in the other. Charlie processed the sight, then turned back to watch with detached interest the effect the words had on the beast.
Its skin began to writhe across its body, moving as if pushed by invisible waves. It reached with its long neck to snap at Dean, who jumped out of the way without once stopping his chanting. It tried to lift itself up, but its weight was too great for the injured leg and the ground shook as it fell. Growling, it again reached for Dean but the hunter dove beneath its grasping jaws to drive the knife deep into the monster’s chest.
The Behemoth released a scream that had Charlie dropping the gun so he could cover his ears. He stared as the monster’s skin started to bubble and smoke, its teeth still trying to get a piece of Dean in spite of its obvious agony, but the hunter was running away from the beast and towards Charlie. Dean grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the forest, casting fearful glances behind them.
“Shit!” he shouted and pushed Charlie to the ground, dragging him under a bush and again protecting him with his own body. “Stay down!”
He didn’t have much of a choice. He was about to ask why when an explosion shook the ground and made his ears ring. Pieces of the monster, heavy and wet with blood, showered down on the forest around them. The thick leaves of the bush fortunately protected them from the carnage, but the stench still reached them and Charlie quickly buried his face against Dean’s chest to keep from gagging.
After a few minutes, when his hearing had returned and the forest settled down around them, he became aware of the slow, harsh breaths coming from Dean’s chest and the too-still weight holding him down.
“Dean?” There was no change in breathing or movement. “Dean, are you okay?”
Using all his strength, he rolled the hunter off of him. The green eyes were closed and Charlie felt something warm against his stomach--the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. Opening up Dean’s jacket, he saw that the tee-shirt he was wearing was torn and bloodied. He quickly lifted it up to reveal Dean’s stomach covered in shallow cuts from the Behemoth’s claws, and while the wounds were messy, they didn’t appear to be that deep. It was the red surrounding them, reaching out across his skin, that worried Charlie the most. The reddened skin was hot to the touch and Dean was covered with a sheen of sweat--the creature’s claws must have been poisoned.
Thinking of his own injury, Charlie pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and saw that the area around the cuts on his arm was red and swelling with vines of red reaching up towards his elbow. The shock of the afternoon began to wear off and Charlie felt the first tendrils of fear and panic take hold. He didn’t know how to handle something like this. They needed a hospital--but would a hospital even know what to do with them?
“Fuck,” he whispered, wishing Don were there.
“Maybe later,” Dean murmured, his eyes fluttering open.
“Dean!” Charlie had never thought he’d be so happy to see those green eyes in his life. “Dean, you’ve got to tell me what to do. Our wounds are infected with whatever was on that thing’s claws. Is there a cure?”
Dean opened his mouth and ran his tongue across dry lips. “My bag. The canteen in my bag.”
His bag. Charlie looked around--he didn’t see a bag. “Where is it?”
“Out there,” Dean said, coughing slightly. “Covered in Behemoth guts.”
“Fuck,” he said again as he crawled out from under the bush. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
“Where would I go?” Dean smiled, and Charlie shrugged.
“Heaven?”
Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked on the coughing fit that followed.
“Damnit, Dean!” Charlie snapped, rubbing his chest. “Breathe!”
Slowly, the coughing fit faded and Dean took several quick shallow breaths. “Heaven,” he gasped. “That’s a good one.”
“If anyone will make it, you will,” Charlie said. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean’s. “I’ll be right back.”
Dean looked up at him with wide eyes and smiled. “Now that might be worth hanging around for.”
Charlie chuckled and kissed him again, then went in search of the backpack. He tiptoed through piles of red flesh, holding his arm to his nose to try and block out the smell. Even as he searched through the mess, the Behemoth’s remains began to dissolve into the ground, though he had a feeling the stench would linger. Long after he left the woods, the stench would linger.
He reached the main mass of the Behemoth’s carcass and began searching for the bag, thinking Dean must have dropped it when he went after the creature with his knife and book.
A book. Charlie still didn’t know what to think about that, but as his head spun with a dizzy spell, he knew he didn’t have the time. He needed to find Dean’s backpack before it was too late for either of them. Finally, he spotted it and grabbed onto a strap, carrying it with him as he ran back to Dean.
“I’ve got it!” he said, falling to his knees and digging through the bag. He pulled out the canteen and held it in front of Dean’s graying face. “What now?”
The hunter breathed in a shuddering breath. “First, pour some over your arm.”
Charlie unscrewed the top and sniffed at the contents. He didn’t smell anything. “What is it?”
“Holy water.”
“It’s what?”
“Just do it.”
Shaking his head, Charlie carefully poured the water over the scratches on his arm. He gasped as his skin began to burn and he quickly set the canteen on the ground before he dropped it. He watched in fear as the wounds began to fizz and bubble, wondering if Dean had done something to make things worse, but then he realized the redness was retreating.
“Again,” Dean whispered, and again Charlie covered the wounds with the water. This time, his arm was washed clean, the scratches vanishing as if they’d never even existed.
“Dean, what...?” He looked over at the hunter and saw that the green eyes were staring blankly up at the branches above him, his chest having ceased to move. “Dean!” Charlie took the shredded pieces of Dean’s shirt and ripped it open. He grabbed the canteen and poured the water over his stomach, making sure to cover every inch of every scratch.
There was no reaction.
“Come on, Dean!” he shouted as he began to perform CPR, using his palms to press down on the unmoving chest. “Fight, damn you! You’re too strong for this!”
Keeping an eye on the wounds, Charlie alternately pressed on Dean’s chest and breathed into his mouth, shouting encouragement along the way. He wasn’t going to give up. Dean had fought for him, and he was going to keep fighting until the man came back to life. He poured another dose of holy water onto the wounds and nearly cried when this time they began to fizzle.
“That’s it, Dean. You can do it. Breathe! Open your eyes! Look at me!”
He doused the wounds again and was relieved when he saw the red had faded significantly and the scratches were beginning to close. He poured the rest of the water onto Dean’s stomach and this time the skin washed clean, but Dean’s breathing was still shallow and his eyes had yet to open.
“Dean,” Charlie said softly, patting his cheeks. “Dean, look at me. Just open your eyes and look at me.”
Slowly, the green eyes opened and Dean smiled. “Hey.”
Charlie sighed with relief, too happy for words. He just leaned over and kissed the hunter breathless--not a difficult thing to do, considering Dean’s strength hadn’t returned yet.
“I knew that was worth hanging around for,” he said when Charlie finally released him.
“Are you always this arrogant?” Charlie grinned, keeping a hand over Dean’s heart.
“Just about,” he smirked and took a deep breath, and then another one, just for the thrill of being able to do it. “Ah, the wonders of holy water.”
“That really was holy water?”
“Borrowed from the finest church in Las Vegas.”
Charlie arched an eyebrow. “‘Borrowed’?”
“I’d say ‘stolen’,” he grinned, “but all things considered, ‘borrowed’ sounds better.”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Dean, what just happened here?”
“Remember that stuff I told you you don’t want to know about?” Dean asked, covering Charlie’s hand with one of his own. “File it all under there, and then forget about it. Trust me, Charlie, you’ll be better off.”
Charlie looked at the man, thought about everything he’d just seen and done, thought about his life before this afternoon, and decided that maybe Dean was right. Maybe it would be best to just pretend none of it had ever happened.
Except for one thing.
“The stuff I’m supposed to forget--does that include you?” he asked, turning his hand over and wrapping his fingers around the hunter’s.
“I know that under normal circumstances I’d be unforgettable, but in this case, yeah,” he said with a regretful sigh, “it does include me.”
“Even though you saved my life, and possibly that of my brother.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d have done the same for anyone. Just forget about all of this.”
“And while that’s a nice thought, I guess now would be a good time to tell you I don’t forget anything.”
Dean slowly looked up at Charlie, hope lighting up his eyes. “Nothing at all?”
Charlie grinned. “Not a damn thing.”
“And you’re certain about this?”
“Positive.”
“Well, then,” Dean said, mirroring his grin, “maybe we should do something to make this moment as memorable as possible.”
“It isn’t memorable enough already?” Charlie asked, sliding his hand over the smooth, undamaged skin of Dean’s stomach, whose breath caught in his throat. Pushing aside the twinge of nervousness, Charlie slid his hand under Dean’s shirt and back up over his chest until his palm was again resting over his heart. “And you should probably rest,” he said, rubbing a pebbled nipple beneath his fingertip.
“I can rest when I’m dead,” he said, quickly reaching up to grab Charlie by the shirt and pulling him down on top of him.
Grinning beneath the onslaught on his mouth, Charlie willingly allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. Dean’s body covered him as it had so often already that day, but for once, their safety was the furthest thing from his mind. Charlie just wanted to feel Dean’s skin against his, to have the calloused hand that had pulled him out of danger wrapped around his cock, to look into those green eyes as he came.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Dean said, lifting the shirt over Charlie’s head and kissing a path down his chest.
“Yes, I know, I look like an angel,” he said, pulling off the remains of Dean’s ruined shirt. He’d heard his brother call him that often enough, he knew to expect it.
“No, not an angel,” Dean said, snapping open Charlie’s jeans and lowering his head towards the emerging erection, “not with those eyes, not with the way you’re looking at me right now. No angel could make me burn the way you do.”
Charlie looked down into his fiery green gaze, felt the heat with which his body responded to Dean’s touch, and decided to break the one promise in his life he’d always intended to keep.
“Dean,” he began tentatively, and the hunter looked up at him and smiled.
“Don’t worry, Professor,” Dean said just before he slid Charlie into his mouth, “you’re going to have me, and I’ll make sure you never forget.”
An hour and a half later, the two met up with their brothers, and after a lengthy discussion involving much yelling and anxiety over the bloodied clothes, and the sharing of a story too bizarre to be believed, Don decided he was happy enough to have Charlie back and in on piece that he let the Winchesters go without a fight. Well, without much of a fight. It took a little convincing on Charlie’s part, but in the end, the four separated on fairly peaceful terms.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Don asked, his hand on the small of Charlie’s back as they began walking away.
“I’m fine, Don. I’m a fairly capable person, you know.”
“Charlie, I know that. I wasn’t trying to imply that you aren’t. It’s just...damnit!” he swore, taking his brother in his arms and holding him close. “I was so worried about you. I don’t think I’m going to stop worrying until we’re back home.”
“I know,” he smiled, hugging his brother back. “It’s all right. I was worried about you, too.”
Even as he felt Don’s lips touch his forehead, Charlie glanced over his brother’s shoulder at the Winchesters. He looked just in time to see Sam slam Dean against the nearest tree and capture him in a desperate kiss, pressing himself hard against his brother’s body.
Oh. So that’s how he’d known.
Dean returned Sam’s kiss, his strong arms clasping his brother to him, but his eyes opened and he caught Charlie’s gaze. Waving at him with one hand, Dean winked. Charlie waved back and then Dean’s eyes closed and he devoted his full attention to Sam.
Chuckling, Charlie disentangled himself from Don’s hug and, with an arm around his brother’s waist, led him into the woods. “I don’t know about you,” he said, sliding a hand into the back pocket of his brother’s jeans, “but I’m starving.”
“After spending an entire afternoon running around the forest worrying about you, I can definitely say I could use a bite to eat myself.”
“Good. So what do you say we start with dessert?”
Don looked down at him and catching the suggestion in his eyes, the last of his worry faded and he chuckled. Placing an arm around Charlie’s shoulders, Don pulled his brother to him in a quick hug.
“Dessert sounds good.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Charlie grinned, and with one last look over his shoulder, he reached up and gave his brother a kiss. “Come on, Donny, let’s go home, and we can forget this day ever happened.”
[February 19, 2006]
See Part 1 for header info.
Common Bonds - Part 2
Thinking back to his own now-defunct dinner plans, Charlie snorted. And then looked at Dean in horror. “Wait a minute--you’re not going to eat this thing, are you?”
Dean made a gagging sound. “Hell, no! Trust me, a Behemoth is not fit for eating, and if I do my job right, the only thing left of it will be fertilizer.” He frowned. “Not that anyone would use it for fertilizer, unless they want their crops to turn on them.”
“What?”
“Nothing. So tell me, Professor, what’s your name?”
“My name?”
“We didn’t have time for formal introductions, and unless you want me to call you ‘Professor’ for the rest of our time together...”
“It’s Charles. Charlie.”
“Charlie,” Dean nodded, looking at him. “It suits you.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “Professor Charlie Eppes, mathematician. Tough gig. You must have been a real babe magnet at school.”
“Hardly,” he chuckled. “They were all much older than I am.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that work?”
“I skipped a few grades.”
“Really? Smart guy, huh?”
“You could say that,” Charlie said, hiding his smile. He didn’t want to intimidate Dean with his intellect, though he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say or do that would intimidate the man. He seemed so self-assured, so certain in everything he said and did. He had the same easy manner Don always had whenever they were spending time together away from work. If Dean had been one for obeying the rules, Charlie bet the man would have made a pretty decent agent.
“Me,” Dean said as he ducked under a branch, “I was lucky to make it through high school. Not because I’m stupid,” he said, quick to patch up any holes in his image he might have caused. “We just moved around a lot and school was never a priority. At least, not for me. Sammy, on the other hand, he’d have been thrilled if he had nothing better to do than climb on the jungle gym with his friends and enter spelling bees.”
“Spelling’s never been my forte. Just numbers.”
“And this is mine,” Dean said as he crouched down to study something hanging from the rough bark of a tree. He lifted up a few strands of fur between his fingers and held them to his nose. He sniffed, then quickly drew his hand away, his face scrunching in disgust.
“What?”
Dean handed him the fur and Charlie took a quick sniff, then coughed, dropping the hairs to the ground.
“What is that? Sulfur?”
“Yep,” Dean nodded, standing up.
“What kind of animal smells like sulfur?”
“Not one created by nature,” Dean said as he stood up, brushing his hand against his jeans. His eyes searched the forest, his entire body on alert, exactly the way Don’s was when he was nearing in on a suspect. Watching him, Charlie tried to ignore the thrill that ran through his blood. Don in agent mode had never failed to turn him on, and seeing the edgier, rougher version of that in Dean was having the same effect.
And the jeans were definitely not helping.
It was amazing how the possibility of a gruesome death was made more bearable when accompanied by a nice ass in a pair of jeans. Still, it wasn’t enough to distract him from yet another of Dean’s odd statements.
“One not created by nature? What are you talking about?”
“Long story,” Dean said. “Highly uninteresting. No numbers involved at all. I’d tell you, but I wouldn’t want to put you to sleep.”
“Why don’t I believe a word you just said? Beyond ‘long story’, that is.”
“Because I was lying. Trust me, Charlie,” he said, turning around enough to meet his eyes, “this is a story you’re better off not knowing. Working with your brother, I’m guessing you see the bad side of people every day. That’s enough for one person to handle. You don’t need to know what else is out there.”
“More than just the Behemoth?”
“A lot more.”
Charlie gazed into his face and what he saw there sent a chill down his spine. “Okay.”
“You’re a smart man, Professor,” Dean smiled, shoulders relaxing with relief.
“Yes, I know.”
“Modest, too,” he chuckled. “So what do you do for fun?” Dean asked as he returned to his search.
“My job.”
“There’s that babe magnet status again.”
He blushed. “I can’t help it. My work takes up most of my time, not that I’m complaining. I love it.”
“And when you do get a moment to yourself?”
“I do this--sports, I mean. I hike, I play basketball, snowboard, and I’ve recently taken up golf.”
Dean snorted. “Golf’s not a sport.”
He chuckled. “I’m not all that fond of it myself, but my dad’s teaching me and it’s a chance to spend time with him, so I suffer through it.”
“Oh yeah? Well, in that case, I guess it’s not too bad.”
Charlie was not oblivious to the wistful note in Dean’s voice. “Do you get to see your dad often?”
“Not so much anymore. We’ve grown apart over the past year, not that we were ever really close. My family’s not what you would consider...”
“Normal?” Charlie supplied, then shrugged. “Whose is?”
“Yeah, but my family--we go beyond the usual normal of abnormal. My mom died when I was young, and it destroyed us. My dad never recovered, and my brother took off the first chance he got to get away from him.”
“Sounds a lot like my family, only my brother took off first, then my mom died, and my dad... well, he’s actually doing better than the rest of us. Don and I... I was kind of the reason he left, so it’s only recently that we’ve actually gotten a chance to be brothers. Is that how it was with you and Sam?”
“Something like that, except we’ve always been pretty close. It’s only now he’s stopped resenting it.”
“Your closeness?”
“That. Our family. Me.” Dean stopped and turned around to look at Charlie. “I lost the trail. We need to double back, try to pick it up again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable when Dean stepped towards him with a predatory look in his eye. “I shouldn’t have been distracting you.”
“No need to apologize. I was the one asking questions, Professor,” he said, brushing against Charlie as he passed even though there was more than enough space for the two of them. “I should have been paying more attention.”
Charlie couldn’t help feeling a little relief after Dean had moved on down the trail. He had been so certain that he might--that he would...but it wasn’t important. It hadn’t happened and there was no point dwelling on it.
“Coming?”
He shook himself out of his stupor. “Yeah,” he said, and hurried to catch up.
“So what do you think our brothers are talking about?” Dean asked, his eyes glued to the ground.
“Just like we’re talking about them, I’m sure they’re talking about us.”
“Yeah,” Dean smiled, “that’s what I was thinking.”
“It’s the only common factor between us.”
“I don’t know about that. We’ve just pointed out several things we have in common.”
“True, but Don’s not exactly known for his interpersonal communication skills.”
“Neither am I, yet here I am, blabbing to you. Plus, you don’t know Sammy. He’s got that instinctively trustworthy air about him--people just naturally start telling him their life stories without him even having to ask. I’ll bet your brother’s talking up a storm right this very minute.”
Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know Donny. He won’t give in that easily. He’s trained not to.”
“Want to bet on that?” Dean asked, taking his eyes off the trail long enough to wriggle his eyebrows at Charlie, who shook his head.
“I just met you. It would be rude to take your money so quickly.”
“You’d just end up eating your words, Professor. I’ll put my baby brother’s puppy dog eyes up against your brother’s government training any day.”
“It’ll take more than a pair of puppy dog eyes to win over my brother.”
“Really? So he never gives in to yours?”
Charlie blinked. “Mine?”
“Yes, yours. You’re telling me your brother’s immune to your puppy dog eyes?”
“I don’t have puppy dog eyes, and even if I did, my relationship with Don is not based upon that sort of adolescent manipulation. We’re adults, and we treat each other as such.”
Dean didn’t answer beyond keeling over with laughter, and Charlie glared at him.
“I’m being serious.”
“I know,” Dean said between guffaws as he turned around. “That’s what makes it so funny.” Still chuckling, Dean lifted Charlie’s chin with his free hand. “Charlie, you have two of the biggest puppy dog eyes I have ever seen, and when you look at him with those eyes surrounded by those dark curls, I’m willing to bet your brother can’t resist you. Hell, I barely can, and I’ve just met you.”
Charlie gulped as he looked up into Dean’s face and saw the barely checked desire there, a desire echoed within himself. In that moment, if Dean made a move, he knew he wouldn’t even put up a fight.
“Dean, I...” But then he caught something shifting out of the corner of his eye and his blood turned to ice. “Dean, it’s behind you!”
The hunter whirled around, firing his gun the second he spotted the Behemoth. The bullets grazed the monster’s side and it sent up an enraged howl into the forest as it charged them.
“Charlie, fire!” Dean shouted as he reloaded his gun, running at the monster, then screamed as it clawed him across his stomach and sent him flying into a tree.
Feeling as if he was watching the whole scene from a distance, Charlie raised his arm and pulled the trigger, firing off one shot after another into the head of the beast until his gun was empty. Blood sprayed up from where the bullets hit the creature, smoke rising from its wounds, but didn’t seem to slow it down.
The Behemoth was unlike anything Charlie had ever seen.
It had an oval-shaped head with two holes on either side for ears and its nose lay flat against its face with two flaring nostrils above its upper lip. Its mouth looked like a bear trap from the way it opened flat to reveal spiny sharp teeth, and then snapped shut with a force he knew would sever anything caught in-between. It had a long neck that was attached to a large, round body, its skin covered in the thick brown fur they’d found earlier. Its legs were thick as tree trunks and its feet ended in razor-sharp claws that shredded the earth beneath it as it ran.
It was the eyes, though, that frightened Charlie the most. The monster’s eyes, as brown as its fur, were not the eyes of an animal. They looked human.
“Charlie, down!” Dean shouted from where he was struggling to his feet.
He dropped to the ground, a little too late. One of the Behemoth’s paws swiped at his arm as it rushed past, sending the gun flying into the brush. He cried out a the sudden pain, a burning sensation flying up his arm, but quickly pushed it aside and scrambled towards the area where the gun had landed.
“Charlie!” Dean shouted, falling to the earth next to him as the Behemoth circled for another run--fortunately, something that large had a hard time slowing down and turning back around. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” he said, his hand grasping the cold handle of the gun. “But I’m out of bullets.”
Dean was already digging through his backpack and handed Charlie a couple of clips. “Keep it distracted,” he said, pulling out a book and a wicked-looking knife with a blade as long as Charlie’s forearm. “I’ve got to get close enough to shove this into its chest.”
“How?!”
Shrugging, Dean flashed him a grin. “Pure dumb luck would be my guess. Now get ready, because here it comes!”
They both jumped to their feet, Dean moving off to the side and leaving Charlie to face the creature on his own.
This time, he was fully aware of his surroundings as he met the Behemoth’s eyes and was again struck by how human they appeared. If it wasn’t for the raging bloodlust and unbridled cruelty he saw in them, he might have mistaken the Behemoth for an elaborate costume. The human appearance of its eyes made it difficult for him to raise the gun--the lack of humanity in them made it easy for him to pull the trigger.
He aimed for the right knee of its front legs and managed to blow it out. The Behemoth stumbled towards the ground, howling its fury as it snapped at him with its teeth. Charlie fired again, aiming for its gaping mouth until it was a mangled bloody mess, but still the creature refused to relent. By now, the air was filled with smoke and reeked of sulfur, both coming from the beast’s wounds. Charlie knew this was significant, somehow, but his brain was only taking in information, not processing it. Processing would cause a breakdown, one he couldn’t afford until all this was over, and possibly not even then. Emptying the first clip, he reloaded and continued firing.
The sound of chanting reached his ears between cracks from the gun and the screaming of the Behemoth. He glanced over to see Dean approaching the creature, the book lying open in one hand, the knife in the other. Charlie processed the sight, then turned back to watch with detached interest the effect the words had on the beast.
Its skin began to writhe across its body, moving as if pushed by invisible waves. It reached with its long neck to snap at Dean, who jumped out of the way without once stopping his chanting. It tried to lift itself up, but its weight was too great for the injured leg and the ground shook as it fell. Growling, it again reached for Dean but the hunter dove beneath its grasping jaws to drive the knife deep into the monster’s chest.
The Behemoth released a scream that had Charlie dropping the gun so he could cover his ears. He stared as the monster’s skin started to bubble and smoke, its teeth still trying to get a piece of Dean in spite of its obvious agony, but the hunter was running away from the beast and towards Charlie. Dean grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the forest, casting fearful glances behind them.
“Shit!” he shouted and pushed Charlie to the ground, dragging him under a bush and again protecting him with his own body. “Stay down!”
He didn’t have much of a choice. He was about to ask why when an explosion shook the ground and made his ears ring. Pieces of the monster, heavy and wet with blood, showered down on the forest around them. The thick leaves of the bush fortunately protected them from the carnage, but the stench still reached them and Charlie quickly buried his face against Dean’s chest to keep from gagging.
After a few minutes, when his hearing had returned and the forest settled down around them, he became aware of the slow, harsh breaths coming from Dean’s chest and the too-still weight holding him down.
“Dean?” There was no change in breathing or movement. “Dean, are you okay?”
Using all his strength, he rolled the hunter off of him. The green eyes were closed and Charlie felt something warm against his stomach--the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. Opening up Dean’s jacket, he saw that the tee-shirt he was wearing was torn and bloodied. He quickly lifted it up to reveal Dean’s stomach covered in shallow cuts from the Behemoth’s claws, and while the wounds were messy, they didn’t appear to be that deep. It was the red surrounding them, reaching out across his skin, that worried Charlie the most. The reddened skin was hot to the touch and Dean was covered with a sheen of sweat--the creature’s claws must have been poisoned.
Thinking of his own injury, Charlie pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and saw that the area around the cuts on his arm was red and swelling with vines of red reaching up towards his elbow. The shock of the afternoon began to wear off and Charlie felt the first tendrils of fear and panic take hold. He didn’t know how to handle something like this. They needed a hospital--but would a hospital even know what to do with them?
“Fuck,” he whispered, wishing Don were there.
“Maybe later,” Dean murmured, his eyes fluttering open.
“Dean!” Charlie had never thought he’d be so happy to see those green eyes in his life. “Dean, you’ve got to tell me what to do. Our wounds are infected with whatever was on that thing’s claws. Is there a cure?”
Dean opened his mouth and ran his tongue across dry lips. “My bag. The canteen in my bag.”
His bag. Charlie looked around--he didn’t see a bag. “Where is it?”
“Out there,” Dean said, coughing slightly. “Covered in Behemoth guts.”
“Fuck,” he said again as he crawled out from under the bush. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
“Where would I go?” Dean smiled, and Charlie shrugged.
“Heaven?”
Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked on the coughing fit that followed.
“Damnit, Dean!” Charlie snapped, rubbing his chest. “Breathe!”
Slowly, the coughing fit faded and Dean took several quick shallow breaths. “Heaven,” he gasped. “That’s a good one.”
“If anyone will make it, you will,” Charlie said. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean’s. “I’ll be right back.”
Dean looked up at him with wide eyes and smiled. “Now that might be worth hanging around for.”
Charlie chuckled and kissed him again, then went in search of the backpack. He tiptoed through piles of red flesh, holding his arm to his nose to try and block out the smell. Even as he searched through the mess, the Behemoth’s remains began to dissolve into the ground, though he had a feeling the stench would linger. Long after he left the woods, the stench would linger.
He reached the main mass of the Behemoth’s carcass and began searching for the bag, thinking Dean must have dropped it when he went after the creature with his knife and book.
A book. Charlie still didn’t know what to think about that, but as his head spun with a dizzy spell, he knew he didn’t have the time. He needed to find Dean’s backpack before it was too late for either of them. Finally, he spotted it and grabbed onto a strap, carrying it with him as he ran back to Dean.
“I’ve got it!” he said, falling to his knees and digging through the bag. He pulled out the canteen and held it in front of Dean’s graying face. “What now?”
The hunter breathed in a shuddering breath. “First, pour some over your arm.”
Charlie unscrewed the top and sniffed at the contents. He didn’t smell anything. “What is it?”
“Holy water.”
“It’s what?”
“Just do it.”
Shaking his head, Charlie carefully poured the water over the scratches on his arm. He gasped as his skin began to burn and he quickly set the canteen on the ground before he dropped it. He watched in fear as the wounds began to fizz and bubble, wondering if Dean had done something to make things worse, but then he realized the redness was retreating.
“Again,” Dean whispered, and again Charlie covered the wounds with the water. This time, his arm was washed clean, the scratches vanishing as if they’d never even existed.
“Dean, what...?” He looked over at the hunter and saw that the green eyes were staring blankly up at the branches above him, his chest having ceased to move. “Dean!” Charlie took the shredded pieces of Dean’s shirt and ripped it open. He grabbed the canteen and poured the water over his stomach, making sure to cover every inch of every scratch.
There was no reaction.
“Come on, Dean!” he shouted as he began to perform CPR, using his palms to press down on the unmoving chest. “Fight, damn you! You’re too strong for this!”
Keeping an eye on the wounds, Charlie alternately pressed on Dean’s chest and breathed into his mouth, shouting encouragement along the way. He wasn’t going to give up. Dean had fought for him, and he was going to keep fighting until the man came back to life. He poured another dose of holy water onto the wounds and nearly cried when this time they began to fizzle.
“That’s it, Dean. You can do it. Breathe! Open your eyes! Look at me!”
He doused the wounds again and was relieved when he saw the red had faded significantly and the scratches were beginning to close. He poured the rest of the water onto Dean’s stomach and this time the skin washed clean, but Dean’s breathing was still shallow and his eyes had yet to open.
“Dean,” Charlie said softly, patting his cheeks. “Dean, look at me. Just open your eyes and look at me.”
Slowly, the green eyes opened and Dean smiled. “Hey.”
Charlie sighed with relief, too happy for words. He just leaned over and kissed the hunter breathless--not a difficult thing to do, considering Dean’s strength hadn’t returned yet.
“I knew that was worth hanging around for,” he said when Charlie finally released him.
“Are you always this arrogant?” Charlie grinned, keeping a hand over Dean’s heart.
“Just about,” he smirked and took a deep breath, and then another one, just for the thrill of being able to do it. “Ah, the wonders of holy water.”
“That really was holy water?”
“Borrowed from the finest church in Las Vegas.”
Charlie arched an eyebrow. “‘Borrowed’?”
“I’d say ‘stolen’,” he grinned, “but all things considered, ‘borrowed’ sounds better.”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Dean, what just happened here?”
“Remember that stuff I told you you don’t want to know about?” Dean asked, covering Charlie’s hand with one of his own. “File it all under there, and then forget about it. Trust me, Charlie, you’ll be better off.”
Charlie looked at the man, thought about everything he’d just seen and done, thought about his life before this afternoon, and decided that maybe Dean was right. Maybe it would be best to just pretend none of it had ever happened.
Except for one thing.
“The stuff I’m supposed to forget--does that include you?” he asked, turning his hand over and wrapping his fingers around the hunter’s.
“I know that under normal circumstances I’d be unforgettable, but in this case, yeah,” he said with a regretful sigh, “it does include me.”
“Even though you saved my life, and possibly that of my brother.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’d have done the same for anyone. Just forget about all of this.”
“And while that’s a nice thought, I guess now would be a good time to tell you I don’t forget anything.”
Dean slowly looked up at Charlie, hope lighting up his eyes. “Nothing at all?”
Charlie grinned. “Not a damn thing.”
“And you’re certain about this?”
“Positive.”
“Well, then,” Dean said, mirroring his grin, “maybe we should do something to make this moment as memorable as possible.”
“It isn’t memorable enough already?” Charlie asked, sliding his hand over the smooth, undamaged skin of Dean’s stomach, whose breath caught in his throat. Pushing aside the twinge of nervousness, Charlie slid his hand under Dean’s shirt and back up over his chest until his palm was again resting over his heart. “And you should probably rest,” he said, rubbing a pebbled nipple beneath his fingertip.
“I can rest when I’m dead,” he said, quickly reaching up to grab Charlie by the shirt and pulling him down on top of him.
Grinning beneath the onslaught on his mouth, Charlie willingly allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. Dean’s body covered him as it had so often already that day, but for once, their safety was the furthest thing from his mind. Charlie just wanted to feel Dean’s skin against his, to have the calloused hand that had pulled him out of danger wrapped around his cock, to look into those green eyes as he came.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Dean said, lifting the shirt over Charlie’s head and kissing a path down his chest.
“Yes, I know, I look like an angel,” he said, pulling off the remains of Dean’s ruined shirt. He’d heard his brother call him that often enough, he knew to expect it.
“No, not an angel,” Dean said, snapping open Charlie’s jeans and lowering his head towards the emerging erection, “not with those eyes, not with the way you’re looking at me right now. No angel could make me burn the way you do.”
Charlie looked down into his fiery green gaze, felt the heat with which his body responded to Dean’s touch, and decided to break the one promise in his life he’d always intended to keep.
“Dean,” he began tentatively, and the hunter looked up at him and smiled.
“Don’t worry, Professor,” Dean said just before he slid Charlie into his mouth, “you’re going to have me, and I’ll make sure you never forget.”
An hour and a half later, the two met up with their brothers, and after a lengthy discussion involving much yelling and anxiety over the bloodied clothes, and the sharing of a story too bizarre to be believed, Don decided he was happy enough to have Charlie back and in on piece that he let the Winchesters go without a fight. Well, without much of a fight. It took a little convincing on Charlie’s part, but in the end, the four separated on fairly peaceful terms.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Don asked, his hand on the small of Charlie’s back as they began walking away.
“I’m fine, Don. I’m a fairly capable person, you know.”
“Charlie, I know that. I wasn’t trying to imply that you aren’t. It’s just...damnit!” he swore, taking his brother in his arms and holding him close. “I was so worried about you. I don’t think I’m going to stop worrying until we’re back home.”
“I know,” he smiled, hugging his brother back. “It’s all right. I was worried about you, too.”
Even as he felt Don’s lips touch his forehead, Charlie glanced over his brother’s shoulder at the Winchesters. He looked just in time to see Sam slam Dean against the nearest tree and capture him in a desperate kiss, pressing himself hard against his brother’s body.
Oh. So that’s how he’d known.
Dean returned Sam’s kiss, his strong arms clasping his brother to him, but his eyes opened and he caught Charlie’s gaze. Waving at him with one hand, Dean winked. Charlie waved back and then Dean’s eyes closed and he devoted his full attention to Sam.
Chuckling, Charlie disentangled himself from Don’s hug and, with an arm around his brother’s waist, led him into the woods. “I don’t know about you,” he said, sliding a hand into the back pocket of his brother’s jeans, “but I’m starving.”
“After spending an entire afternoon running around the forest worrying about you, I can definitely say I could use a bite to eat myself.”
“Good. So what do you say we start with dessert?”
Don looked down at him and catching the suggestion in his eyes, the last of his worry faded and he chuckled. Placing an arm around Charlie’s shoulders, Don pulled his brother to him in a quick hug.
“Dessert sounds good.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Charlie grinned, and with one last look over his shoulder, he reached up and gave his brother a kiss. “Come on, Donny, let’s go home, and we can forget this day ever happened.”
[February 19, 2006]