"Unspoken Pt. 1 & 2," Miracles/SPN, NC-17
A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 1 of 4
Rating: NC-17
Dates: Written June-July 2008
Word Count: 5,299 (this chapter), 19,273 total
Summary: Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort.
Pairings: Dean/Paul. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from Scream.
Timeline: Happens after the Supernatural episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the Miracles timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for Miracles.
Warning: Contains spoilers for all of Miracles and Supernatural up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie Scream. Graphic sex between two men. Adult language.
Betas: Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta.
Author's Notes: Follows after "Orange-Flavored Kiss."
It's been a long time since I've written for my OTP. I've been too busy conning others into writing them for me. ^_^ But I always intended to take up this story again. Harshini poking me got me to write it that much sooner.
Kaija West came up with the idea for Dean to be a God is Nowhere person. Idea used with her permission.
"You are not the father!"
Laughing, Paul retorted, "Oh come on, it's her tenth time on the show. This one's got to be the dad."
On Paul's TV screen, Maury Povich opened a manila envelope and took out a piece of paper. "Dominic... you are not the father."
"Ha!" Georgia cried. "You see?"
The audience on The Maury Povich Show momentarily made a great deal of noise in reaction to the result of the paternity test. The female guest had sworn up and down that she was "1000% sure" that Dominic, or maybe the other man she'd brought on the show, Chris, was the father of her baby. To be proven wrong on national TV was humiliating for her and a source of juicy gossip for everyone else in the studio that day. Paul and his best friend Georgia joined in from Paul's home, relaxing on the couch with a bowl of Chex Mix.
"Yeah, well, keep watching. Chris has got to be the father. I can feel it."
Georgia stuffed her mouth full of Chex Mix, rolling her eyes at the same time. "So naïve, Paul," she said; he could barely understand her, as she was chewing. "You don't know a slut when you see one."
"What? Did you just call her a mutt?" Paul asked.
Georgia chuckled, still chewing. "Paul, she's been on the show ten times already."
"Shhh, Maury," he said, pointing at the screen.
Maury opened the second envelope. Chris looked very nervous after finding out that Dominic was not the father; where did that leave him? Drawing out the tension, Maury finally read the paper after a long pause. "Chris... you are not the father!"
The crowd exploded into jubilant chaos. Paul's mouth popped open in a shocked, "Whoooa!" and Georgia began to laugh.
"See, what'd I tell you? Straight up slut."
The shamed mother stomped off the stage and promptly fell to the floor, crying and carrying on hysterically. Paul frowned. "I feel kinda sorry for her kid."
"We all feel sorry for the kid, Paul. He's got a tramp for a mom who doesn't know who her baby daddy is," chuckled Georgia.
"Hm." Paul paused and then added, "That's not why I feel sorry for 'im."
Growing a little somber, she nodded. "No father."
"No father," he agreed.
"That is too bad for the kid. His mom only has herself to blame, though."
"I know." Sighing, a bit weary of the world, Paul grabbed a handful of Chex Mix and put half of it in his mouth.
"Hey, you didn't invite me here so we could get all depressed over Maury. Didn't you want to talk about something?" Georgia asked, thumping him on the shoulder.
His eyes shifting nervously, Paul cleared his throat and started to eat the Chex Mix one piece at a time just to have something to do with his hands. "Uh, yeah. You remember me telling you about... past indiscretions... in college, and a couple of times with Jason?"
Georgia sat up a little straighter. When Paul said he wanted to talk about something, she hadn't expected it would be this. "Yeah..."
"It happened again the other night," he said with a nervous little laugh.
"No! Was it Jason?" Georgia asked, astonished.
Paul shook his head. "You don't know him."
"How'd it happen?"
"Uh... where do I start... you know how the first time, it was just... I was young, and curious, and the guy pursued me... you know how college is."
Georgia burst out with a laugh. "Yeah," she said in a tone that spoke of a few of her own college indiscretions.
"Then, the two times with Jason were because of upsetting things that happened to me..." Paul continued.
"Your break-up with Rebecca and the kid in Arizona dying?"
"Tommy Ferguson," he added, and confirmed, "Yeah. Well, something else happened. I... I recovered my memories of what happened in Vermont in 1998."
Gasping, Georgia said, "That time you were drugged and drove to Mountaineer?"
"Yes. Turns out... I don't even know how to say this, it sounds so insane. I mean, I know that you have a little experience with weird things after those letters you were receiving from your father, but... it's really out there, Georgia. I don't even want to think how it sounded to the psychologist who hypnotized me." Having finished his snack, Paul started wiping his fingers on a napkin. It didn't seem like he could get them clean enough, with how much he wiped them.
"Paul, it's okay. Whatever happened, I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me."
It took him several seconds to find the words he wanted to use. "I was attacked and drugged."
"Oh, Paul..." Georgia reached out and hugged him to her. He closed his eyes, hugging her back, holding on a little long. "I'm so sorry."
He moved away, but kept a hand on her arm. "It gave me the drug by force. I had no choice but to do its bidding."
"It?"
Paul looked at her. "That's the insane part," he said. "I'd rather not get into that part of it right now. The point is that the recovery of those memories was, well, traumatic."
"Of course it was," Georgia said soothingly. She eyed the bandages on his hands.
"I met Dean, and he was dealing with problems of his own. And I... I told you how I feel when I get like that."
She nodded, knowing how hard it was for him to verbalize his desires for men, no matter how infrequent. "You brought him home?"
"Yeah."
"His name was Dean?"
"Yeah. Dean Winchester."
"The two of you... how far did you go?"
Not able to help it, Paul snorted. "I can't just say it..."
"What base did he get to?" Georgia asked.
He laughed. "What base... oh boy. You know, I've never been really clear on what the various bases are supposed to mean..."
"Did you have sex with him?"
Chewing on his lower lip, Paul looked down at the floor and chuckled to himself nervously.
"Paul?"
"Yes," he replied, voice too loud and too sharp. Somehow, he drew up enough courage to add, "Twice."
Georgia managed not to gasp. "You were upset."
He cringed. "That's the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"At first, I wanted Dean's comfort, and he gave it willingly. But then, I didn't want it to stop. We spent... hours together, Georgia. It just went on and on... and I didn't want it to stop." Paul tentatively looked over at her, to see the reaction on her face. "I've never wanted a man like that before."
Her expression was one of almost shock. "You started to desire him not for comfort... but for him?"
Desperate for her to understand, Paul nodded, his own face distraught with worry. "And when I have the chance, I want to be with him again. I can't stop thinking about it." He almost sounded like he was on the verge of panic. "I'm not gay, Georgia. I'm still attracted to women. What's happening to me?"
She rubbed his arm, hoping to be soothing, to calm him down. "I don't know exactly, Paul. Sometimes, you meet someone and there's something special about them, and they do things for you that no one else has ever been able to do. Maybe for you, Dean is that person." Growing up Catholic also, Georgia understood why this was confusing for him. "Did you manage to get a picture of the guy?"
Paul briefly considered showing her a picture from his cell phone, but decided quickly that it would be embarrassing if she saw the look on Dean's face and his half-dressed state (and those were the pictures he could show her; he didn't even want to think of how Georgia would react if she saw the other pictures). Instead, Paul went to his kitchen table where the hard copy of the Winchester file sat and dug out Dean's photo.
When Georgia saw it, her eyes widened. "Whoa, Paul! This guy's gorgeous!"
He couldn't help but smile and chortle.
She went on. "A guy like this could charm the skin off a sausage."
To that, Paul laughed out loud. "Georgia! That's quite the comparison you just made."
She realized her double entendré and laughed herself, shaking her head. "Okay, maybe I meant that literally."
Paul snatched the picture out of her hand. "I better take this back before you drool all over it and ruin it."
"Me?" She watched him as he gazed longingly at the photo before putting it back in the file. "You really like this guy, don't you?"
"Yeah. You could say that."
Georgia knew by the way he said it that it was the understatement of the year. Her eyes widened in amazement again. "Paul... are you falling in love with him?"
Not looking at her, Paul studied the floor, his own eyes going wide for a second and his breath catching in his chest. He almost instantly started, "N - " but couldn't finish the word; Paul had hardly ever lied to Georgia. Deep down inside, he knew that he couldn't deny it and be entirely truthful. There was something happening between Dean Winchester and himself. But, was it love? After all Paul had been taught in Catholic school, did he even believe it was possible for him to fall in love with a man? "I... don't know, Georgia," he finally said, looking at her. "It would be easier if I could say no, but I can't. After knowing him for only a few days, I already care about his well-being so much that it terrifies me to think I may never see him again. You don't worry about somebody like that if there's nothing between you. A friendship, a fondness, something. But it's much more than that. You ask me if I'm falling in love with Dean and my answer is... I just don't know."
The look of confusion on Paul's face was so intense that it was almost stricken. Georgia's heart went out to her friend. She wished she had all the answers he seeked. They'd been brought up the same way, but Georgia wasn't as confused about whether or not two men could genuinely fall in love with each other - she believed they could, even if it was contrary to the fundamental beliefs of her church. But if Georgia ever found herself in the same situation, and had deep feelings for another woman, would she be so sure? She uttered, "Oh, Paul," and gave him another hug. He embraced her back, grateful to have her to talk to and understand what he was going through, what a struggle this was for him. "You'll figure it out. I'll always be here when you need someone to talk to, okay? It will be alright."
"You have no idea how bad I needed to hear that, George. You just have no idea... this is the first time I've felt this way toward someone since... well, since..." Paul struggled with his words, obviously fighting back tears.
Georgia's mouth fell open. "Since Rebecca?"
Nodding, Paul let out a deep breath.
A wave of emotion swept over Georgia, and she fought back tears of her own. She knew what this meant for him. If Dean didn't feel the same way, Paul could be really hurt. Georgia patted the back of his hand and squeezed it gently. "That's okay. There's nothing wrong with caring about someone."
Paul only nodded back, solemnly.
Understanding the full gravity of why he couldn't talk to Father Calero yet, Georgia didn't suggest that he talk to his parish priest as she usually would. Instead, she took one of his hands and unfolded it, looking at the bandages. "You have cheddar fingers."
Paul began to laugh. "You're the one who brought the Cheddar Chex Mix."
While they were heading into the bathroom to change Paul's bandages, Dean's eyes were on the road, but his heart and mind were there with Paul, drinking in his feelings through the empathic link. In the last hour, Paul had felt amusement, surprise, then confusion and fear. He was conflicted and afraid, but also sent out such warmth and caring, and was grateful for someone's help. Dean wondered what the hell Paul could have been doing that would cause such a range of emotions.
"That sign back there said the next exit was Boston," Sam informed him. He knew from the far-off look on Dean's face that he was too lost in thought to notice everything. "You better call Paul and let him know we're almost there."
"Oh, yeah..." Dean got out his cell phone and dialed up Paul's number.
Georgia was helping him rewrap his left hand when Paul's cell phone rang. He stopped wrapping long enough to get the phone out of his pocket and look at it to see who was calling. His eyes showed surprise, then he smiled sheepishly. "It's Dean."
Grinning mischievously, she crooned, "Ohhhh... your boyfriend."
Paul gave her shoulder a playful whack with his free hand, but instantly regretted it. "Oooh, ow," he growled with a cringe. Georgia couldn't help but laugh. Putting a finger to his lips to shush her, he answered the phone. "Good morning, Dean."
"Hey, you. Uh, I mean Paul." Dean glanced at his brother to see if he noticed the overexcited tone he had started to use for the phone call. Sam had, but he acted like he hadn't. "We're on the edge of town, heading your way. You're decent, aren't you? Not, like, naked or something?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Paul teased. Georgia raised any eyebrow.
"I will in a bit," replied Dean. He kept one eye on the road and the other on Sam. "I'm telling him we'll be there in a bit."
"You liar," Paul laughed. "Yes, it's okay for you guys to head over."
"Okay, we'll see you in about ten minutes. Bye." Trying to be good for Sam's ignorant sake, Dean hung up and smiled at him innocently.
If only he knew how far from ignorant Sam was, he'd understand how fake that smile looked to him.
Georgia tried to appear innocent herself. "You want I should make myself scarce?"
Paul, shaking his head, replied, "I want you to stay and meet him."
Georgia put a hand to her heart. "Paul, meeting the family already?"
He went to smack her again, but stopped short and picked up a magazine, with which he gave her a good whack.
By the time Dean rapped on the door, Paul's hands were reswaddled in clean bandages and he and Georgia were waiting in the living room. Paul wanted badly to give Dean a deep kiss as soon as he saw him, standing in the doorway, but knew that he couldn't. Not in front of the mop-haired little brother standing next to the object of his admiration.
As if to make things even harder, Dean flashed a gorgeous smile. "Hey Paul. Can we come in?"
"You have to ask?" Grinning like a fool, Paul opened the door wide for them. "Morning, Sam."
"Morning." He saw the dark-haired woman sitting on Paul's couch. "You got company."
"Yeah. Uh, Dean, Sam, this is my best friend, Georgia Wilson. Georgia, this is Dean and his brother Sam Winchester."
She stood up, trying to keep her knowing smile to a minimum. "Pleased to meet you."
They each shook her hand. Dean eyed her, and then eyed Paul, trying to figure out if she'd just paid her friend a brief visit or if she had been the source of all those varied feelings coming off Paul. Had they been talking about him? "Good to meet you too."
"I just came in to say hello. Dean needs to talk to you about something, so I'm going to head on over to SQ and meet you guys there later," explained Sam. Dean handed him the keys.
"Well," Georgia began, clapping her hands together, "I must be on my way. Talk with you later, Paul?" The look she gave him said, Later, when you'll dish all the dirt?
He squinted an eye at her for being so obvious and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Have a good weekend, George."
"Hey, why don't I give Sam a ride to SQ?" she suggested. "I know where it is, and that way, he could leave the car for you," Georgia said to Dean.
"Works for me," he replied.
"Alright, well, see you later?" Sam looked at his brother with an expression that said, Good luck.
Dean nodded, swallowing down his apprehension.
With a wave and a duck out the door, Sam and Georgia were gone, and Paul was locking the door behind them. When he turned around, Dean poked him hard in the chest. "Put that crystal ward back where I left it. I don't want the Keel bitches coming in here and interrupting us again."
"Okay, okay, sheesh." Paul got the crystal out of a desk drawer and handed it to him.
Dean put the crystal back under one of the windows in Paul's apartment. "There."
"You can just put it back like that and it works?"
"That's how I set up the spell. Now..." Dean nearly pounced on Paul, taking his face in his hands and kissing him with all the pent up passion he hadn't been able to act on the night before. Paul let out a frustrated, excited noise; he felt like he'd been waiting for this for much longer than he actually had. They backed into a wall and, as Dean was kissing Paul, he lifted his arms above his head, caressing them as he went, rubbing his fingers over Paul's bandages gently, then moving his hands down to the bottom of Paul's sweater vest. Dean lifted the sweater over his head and broke the kiss long enough to pull it off. Paul breathed out heavily, watching him toss the sweater onto the couch.
Paul leaned in to kiss him again, but Dean put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Wait."
"What, what?" Paul said impatiently.
"I've got something really serious to talk to you about."
Sighing, he asked, "It can't wait?"
"It really can't wait," answered Dean.
Paul looked at his sweater lying on the couch. "If you wanted to talk to me first, then why were you undressing me?"
Glancing at the sweater vest, Dean squared his shoulders and grinned mischievously. "I just don't like it on ya." And without another word, he strolled into Paul's bedroom.
Downstairs in the parking lot, Georgia made a half circle around the long black Impala. "Hey, get the boat car. I've never seen this monstrosity around Paul's building before."
Sam snickered. "It's my brother's."
"Oh, I should have known a guy like that would have a car like this." Chuckling herself, she pointed across the parking lot. "There's mine. Let's be off, shall we?"
He frowned at the compact car. "I hope I can fit in that cracker box."
"It's not my fault you're the Jolly Green Giant."
Once he was seated on the passenger side, Sam let out a laugh at how his knees were practically pressed into his chest. "Fee, fi, fo, fum..."
"Sorry." Georgia reached over and grabbed a handle on the left front of his chair. "Push back."
He did, and the seat moved back a few inches. "Thanks, that's a little better." Sam looked up at the roof of the car, trying not to hit his head on it; the car lacked headroom for him, too.
Once they were underway, Georgia opened a compartment between them and brought out a bottle. "Protein water?"
"Sure. I'm a bit thirsty."
"I thought you'd like it. You look like you work out."
"Yeah, I do." Sam twisted the cap off and started to drink.
"Me too. I don't weight train, but I run every morning, rain or shine."
They chatted about running and working out for a few minutes, making polite conversation. "...I've tried to take Paul out a couple of times, but he hated it. Bitched and moaned about his calves aching. Such a delicate flower."
Sam snickered again.
"So I know you and your brother didn't meet Paul at the gym." Georgia was fishing for information, she knew it. She just wondered if Sam did.
"No, we met on the job. Uh, we do the same thing that SQ does," he replied, and added, "Basically."
"Oh? I had no idea there were more people around who... do whatever you'd call it," she said with a laugh. "I don't even know what a person would put in the Job Description box on their tax forms when that's what they do for a living."
Sam played along. A person didn't file taxes for demon hunting. "I just write 'Ghost Buster.'"
Laughing again, Georgia commented, "The IRS must love that." There was a pause, and then she continued solemnly, "SQ worked a case for me a few years ago. I was getting letters from my father. He died when I was seven."
Sam, turning his head sharply in surprise, looked at her. "Really?"
"Yes. They were being written through the man who murdered him." She glanced over at him to see the look on his face, gauge whether or not he believed her. "He'd go into a trance and write all these letters from his victims. He was a hit man."
Sam nodded. "Automatic writing."
So he did believe her. "That's what Mr. Keel called it. Whatever it was, it made a believer out of me. At least in the afterlife. My parents are waiting for me in Heaven." Georgia smiled wistfully.
Thinking about what she'd said, Sam asked, "That's where you know Paul from? The orphanage?"
She tried to shake off any melancholy feelings brought on by the turn of conversation. "Yes."
"Well, it's nice that you have such a welcoming view of the afterlife." With all that Sam knew, he couldn't be so sure that death was so beautiful for everyone. "It must be comforting."
"It is," she replied, and smiled to herself, thinking of her father. "So, what are Paul and Dean talking about? Ghost-related stuff?"
That stopped Sam for a moment, with all the angry things he wanted to say about what he knew Dean wanted to be doing with Paul that he thought his little brother didn't know about. "Yeah, job stuff."
"Oh. I guess they were planning on having a good long talk, since you left." Fishing again.
At that, Sam looked angry now instead of just feeling it. "Yeah. That's all they're planning on doing. Having a talk."
Georgia slowly looked over at Sam, trying to figure out what he knew and to what he was reacting. "Is there something else?"
He almost frowned, and then gazed out the window. "No."
"Oh. Paul mentioned there were some new doings going on regarding something that happened to him in Vermont about eight years ago. Are they talking about that?"
"That's part of it." Sam looked back over at her. "You and Paul had a nice long talk this morning about what's going on?"
"Yeah. Big heart to heart. Paul likes to spill his guts," Georgia laughed.
"Hmph." Sam stared out the window again. "Must be nice when someone trusts you enough to tell you what's going on in their life, even their deepest, darkest secrets." He took a long swig from the bottle of water.
"Yeah, sure is." Georgia thought she'd figured out what the problem was. She smirked at the thought of what she was about to say, but the kid needed to talk. "So... how long have you known that Paul and your brother are getting it on?"
Sputtering and choking on his water, a shocked Sam tried to say, "What?!" but that only made the water go up the back of his throat and out his nose. He put a hand to his nose and coughed and sputtered some more.
Georgia, not able to help it, chuckled, and dug a napkin out of the center console. "Are you new at this?"
Still coughing a bit, Sam put the napkin to his nose. "What?" he began, between hacks. "Drinking, or knowing that my brother is bisexual?"
*****
Dean dropped his duffle bag on the floor and sat on Paul's bed, taking in his posture as he followed him into the room. "Don't be mad, Paul," he said as more of a request than a command.
Paul, rolling his eyes with amusement, relented and sat on the bed next to Dean. "Whatever. You're such a tease."
"I know." Dean suddenly grew serious, looking down at his hands intertwined in his lap. "Paul, I have something very serious to talk to you about, and I really don't know what your reaction is going to be because I don't know enough to even guess. I knew that this could be such a blow that you... you might not feel like having sex with me, and I couldn't take advantage of that by screwing you first, so I'm telling you now."
The more Paul heard, the more his face twisted in confusion.
"I didn't tell you on the phone last night because I thought it was better if you heard this in person." Dean reached into his jacket, pulling out his father's journal. He just held it for a few seconds, feeling its weight in his hands, before he spoke again. "After we left the other day, Sam had a vision. He saw himself ripping out the back pocket of our father's journal, right here." Dean opened the journal and showed Paul where the back had been pulled up. "Behind it, he found this letter. Our father wrote it in 1984." Taking out the letter, he unfolded it, looking at it for a long time in silence.
Paul reached in with the empathic link, and was shocked to find the feeling that was foremost in Dean's emotional core right now... was fear. He tried to stroke those feelings down with his psychic link, soothe them, quiet them, put them out, but he wasn't really successful. "Dean, what does it say?"
"Uh..." Dean readjusted the letter in his hands. At that moment, Paul caught sight of one of the folded sides and saw the words 'God is Nowhere' written there. His breath stopped in his throat so loudly that it came out as a choked gasp; Dean knew what had caused that reaction and he cringed. He didn't dare look at Paul. "I told you it was bad," Dean remarked.
Giving his dry lips a pass with his tongue, Paul said, "Read it."
It wasn't addressed to anyone, the letter just began...
I must hide this paper after I have written what happened that day in 1984. My research on the 'God is Nowhere' phenomena is sketchy, but more than one reputable psychic has told me that anyone whose blood spells out these words is in danger - a danger to themselves, and in danger from agents of evil. That is why I must chronicle what happened and then hide this paper, to protect the life of my son.
Dean dared to look at Paul then. His mouth hung open in shock; he clearly couldn't believe what he was hearing. Paul tried to speak for several seconds, but couldn't form the words at first. "You... your... your father wrote that?"
Just nodding in reply, Dean continued.
That day, we had all gone to the park to meet with a woman named Lydia Goodwell.
Paul made a strangled noise and put his head in his hands. "Oh, God. Goodwell. Goodwell."
Testing the waters, Dean put a hand on Paul's back and started to rub it slowly. "Do you want me to go on?"
Paul, without looking up, nodded for him to keep reading.
She had received a very disturbing prophecy about her own child and hoped I could help her sort it out.
To that, Paul snorted. "Holy Christ," he mumbled to himself. "Give me strength."
Dean knew he had to read it all; it would be easier in the long run to just get it all out.
My son does not remember this incident because he was too young. He couldn't even read yet. When this thing happened, I had my baby Sammy lying on a park bench so I could change his diaper. My older son Dean climbed up on the jungle gym. I was distracted, so I didn't notice the boy walking the top of the jungle gym until it was too late. He called to me that he was practicing his balance, and then I heard him yelp as he lost it. A meaty thud followed.
He started to scream and cry. By the time I reached him, his busted lip had bled quite a bit, along with the spot where he'd knocked out two baby teeth. The blood pooled on the pavement where he'd fallen. I picked him up to comfort him and try to stop the bleeding. The woman I'd met that day at the park ran over with my other son in her arms, and she scared us all when she pointed and shrieked at the pool of blood. The blood had formed words. It formed the words God is Nowhere.
Again, Dean looked at Paul to see how he was reacting. "Paul, look at me."
He did. Paul's face was so stricken that Dean feared he might actually be ill. His eyes glistened, as if on the verge of crying.
"Does this change anything between us?"
Chapters: 2 of 4
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,559 (this chapter), 19,273 total
Author's Notes: The part about the God is Nowhere phenom refers to a past Miracles fanfic of mine, but you don't necessarily have to read that story to enjoy this one.
"Does this change anything between us?" Dean asked. It shocked him, how weak and scared his own voice sounded.
A beat and Paul wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, kissing him on the mouth. Longing for his comfort, needing to quiet his fears. Dean put his free hand on the back of Paul's neck and kissed him back with relief and passion. They shared a few more small kisses, then just sat for half a minute with their foreheads resting against each other, breathing and brushing their lips together.
There were certain words Paul wanted to say, and if he'd said them, he would have meant them, but his own fear kept him from telling Dean how he was now sure he felt. Instead, he said something he knew Dean needed to hear at that moment. "It doesn't change this between us. Not at all."
A tiny whimper escaped Dean before he dropped the letter on the floor and put both arms around Paul, kissing him with all his passion. His father's journal slid off his lap and to the floor, and they kissed without thinking about anything but each other until they were so hot and bothered that they could think of nothing but rubbing their bodies together and seeking release.
Dean began to remove his jacket. Paul noticed and said between kisses, "Haven't finished the letter."
"It'll keep," Dean responded, throwing off his jacket and then going for Paul's shirt.
A minute later, they were both naked from the waist up and undoing each other's pants. Paul stood to push his down off his hips; at the same time, Dean simply leaned up off the bed and quickly shoved his down to mid-thigh, then sat back down, a move he'd obviously performed many times before. Paul hurriedly reached into the bedside table drawer, getting out the warming lube and tossing it at Dean. It landed on the bed next to Dean's hip. Then, with a heavy breath, Paul put his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed him down on the bed, falling on top of him and kissing him as their hips came together.
Dean let out a hard breath at the first touch of Paul's cock to his. He let Paul feverishly rub against him, desperately, moaning in his ear, while he fumbled open the tube of lubricant and got some on his hand. Then he rolled Paul over on his side and moved up against him until their crotches touched again. Dean took hold of his lover's cock - Paul made a whiny moaning sound - and wrapped it in a loose fist along with his own. He began to stroke them both off with that warm, lubed hand, sometimes rubbing the other man's balls, often causing heated friction by stroking his cock against Paul's. They kissed and ran their hands through each other's hair and over each other's chests while moaning and panting, their lips always close together.
Paul moaned Dean's name helplessly, bucking his hips into Dean's fist. It wasn't long before the room filled with the sounds of squeaking bedsprings and heavy breathing and pleading.
"Bring me off, Dean... make me cum," Paul moaned, his lips brushing Dean's.
"Say please," he teased.
Paul didn't protest for even a second. "Please, Dean. Please make me cum."
Growling, Dean stroked them both down as fast as he could move his hand. Paul let out another helpless whine. For the next thirty seconds, the only sounds they made were heavy breaths and moans from the backs of their throats, and then they came within seconds of each other, spraying the other man's chest with white ropes and spatters. It took another minute for their breathing to slow and for Dean to stop moving his fist, the motion slowing until his fingers simply rested possessively on Paul's crotch. They gazed into each other's eyes.
Paul, unable to hold it in, began, "Dean, I... I..." He couldn't say it. There were too many years of repressed feelings and shameful confessions between them. "...I really... really care for you."
Dean stroked the hair at his temple softly. "I care for you too." They shared another deep, desperate kiss. Then Dean leaned in and started licking cum off of Paul's chest. He lapped clean his stomach, making Paul tremble ticklishly, and flicked at his nipples with his tongue. When he was done, Paul did the same for him, taking the time to suck Dean's nipples while Dean stroked his hair. They couldn't stop touching each other.
Now that they had relieved their immediate tensions, they could get back to their talk. Dean wasted no time. "So what does it mean, the God is Nowhere thing? What does it mean for me?"
Paul sat up, getting a towel from on top of the nearby clothes hamper so they could clean up. "Let's finish your father's letter."
*****
"Why don't you just tell your brother that you know about his relationship with Paul?" Georgia was saying as she pulled into the parking lot of the building Sodalitas Quaerito occupied.
"Because he's been keeping this attraction to men secret from me for at least ten years. Ten years! We've kept secrets from each other before, but something like this... it's a big deal." Sam huffed, agitated. "I don't want to have to ask him. He's going to tell me. He's my brother. You don't keep a secret like that from family."
Georgia switched the car off, then turned in her seat so that she was partially facing him. "Sam, those are precisely the people you keep a secret like that from, when you're afraid of how they'll react."
He didn't say anything, just thinking about what she'd said.
She continued. "Dean is the macho type. Tall guy, big, got the spiky hair, the muscle car, the manly persona... this is how people see him. It's his image. Then, he discovers that he's got an attraction to men. This doesn't really go along with the rest of the image, does it?"
Sam shook his head. "No."
"I bet Dean was pretty embarrassed when he realized he was going to have to tell people how he felt. Maybe even scared."
Again, Sam shook his head, more forcefully this time. "He knows he doesn't have anything to be afraid of. I'm not some homophobic jerk."
Georgia, shrugging, said, "Maybe not, but Sam? It's different when you have to tell someone very close to you a big secret about yourself, especially when it could totally blow their image of you. Don't you understand? It's different when it's personal."
He didn't know what to say in response; she had a point. Sam had kept his own secrets from Dean until he was ready to tell him, and it had been exactly for the reason she'd said - because he was afraid of his brother's reaction. "But ten years, Georgia? To keep it from me for ten years?"
She gave a light shrug. "If he'd told you he had romantic feelings toward men back then, would you even have been able to believe him? Maybe it was something you had to see with your own eyes. Maybe when it started, you were too young to understand. And as you both got older, and the time passed, he'd been keeping the secret for so long that it just got easier to keep and harder to tell." Georgia paused, then finished, "Maybe Dean was afraid that if you knew he wasn't all that you thought he was, you would leave."
Those words hit Sam hard in the gut. ...you would leave. College. Stanford. Sam had left, and planned to go back once he found that yellow-eyed animal and had taken his revenge. Was it possible that in the back of Dean's mind, he thought Sam had left because he knew? And was he afraid Sam would leave him again for the same reason? If he did leave... when he would leave and return to Stanford... Sam had to be sure that his brother knew precisely why. It bothered him to think that Dean could be punishing himself for a decision that had nothing to do with him. "You're a smart woman, Georgia."
Georgia grinned, laughing through her teeth. "You'll talk to him then?"
"In time." Sam got out of the car and leaned down to the open window. "Thanks for the ride."
"No problem. Hey, when you do talk to Dean, be gentle, okay? Paul's pretty freaked out about this too. This isn't a common relationship for him, but he's involved now. I don't want him to get hurt."
Giving her a nod, Sam replied, "I promise I'll think of Paul's feelings too." He started to go, but turned back and leaned down to the window again. "I'm glad Paul has such a good friend who cares about him so much. It makes all of this much easier."
They shared a smile, and then Sam climbed the stairs to the back entrance of SQ.
He found the door open, a light breeze blowing into the office. Alva and Evie were inside, leaning over a box of files; they looked up in surprise when Sam entered. "Samuel!" Alva said, straightening up. "You're back from Vermont."
"Hi." Sam raised the bottle of protein water as a form of greeting.
"Where's your brother?" Evie asked.
"He's over at Paul's, having a talk with him. They'll be in later."
"Oh?" Alva seemed curious and suspicious at the same time. "What are they talking about?"
"Well... guess there isn't any reason not to just get right into it. We have something pretty serious to tell you. Dean thought it was only right to tell Paul himself. I'm supposed to relay the story to you two."
Alva and Evie looked at each other. "Is it about the Mothman?" Evie questioned.
"Not entirely." Sam let out a nervous sigh. "You may want to sit down."
The two glanced at each other again, and then Alva took a seat. Evie remained standing, picking up her large coffee mug and holding it in both hands, taking a sip. They both looked troubled.
With a deep breath, Sam began, "After we left the other day, I had one of my visions. I saw myself finding a note hidden in the back of our father's journal. So, I went looking for it, and I found it. Dad wrote this letter in 1984. It was about how he met with a woman at a park back then; she had sought him out for help with a prophecy a psychic had made about her son.
"Her name was Lydia Goodwell."
Alva gasped; Evie's eyes went wide, and they looked at each other again.
"You would have to fill in a lot of the details on that one. All I know is that her son, Chad, went on a killing spree years later. I guess my dad wasn't able to help her."
Swallowing hard, Alva nodded slightly. "We can fill in those details."
"Good. Anyway, the letter continues... saying that my brother was playing on the jungle gym and fell off. Dean was only five at the time. Dad and the woman run over with me just in time to see..." Now Sam swallowed down a lump of apprehension and worry. "...to see that Dean had busted his mouth open. And his blood had pooled on the ground... spelling out the words 'God is Nowhere.'"
This time, Evie gasped; her hands gave a sudden tremor and released the coffee mug. It shattered on the hard floor. A puddle of coffee spread at her feet. Sam jumped in surprise at the noise.
Alva put a hand over his mouth. "Oh... of course. Of course. I should have known," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "The Mothman has given me clues about the God is Nowhere people since the beginning. This is why he brought us all together. Your brother... is person number eight."
Concerned, Sam grabbed a roll of paper towels off a nearby desk and ripped off a bunch, then handed the roll to Evie. "Are you okay?"
She blinked several times, swayed, and steadied herself against her desk. "I'm alright, just... never expected to hear that." Evie took the paper towels. They both bent down and started to wipe up the coffee. Sam slid the trashcan next to him over so he could pick up the pieces of the mug and dispose of them.
Alva immediately began to dig through the box of files. "Hemography, Hemography, it's in here somewhere..."
"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" Sam asked Evie.
She seemed to shake it off. "I'm fine." Frowning, Evie looked at a piece of the colorful mug. "Matty gave this to me," she lamented, and regretfully tossed it into the trashcan.
"Hm?" Alva looked down at where they were crouched, finally noticing. "Oh, your Mother's Day mug... I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Evie rolled her eyes and sighed; wasn't like there was anything she could do about it now. "I've got a couple more a lot like it."
While they cleaned up the mess, Sam finished the story. "Our dad's letter ends with details about some dreams Dean had about Paul. Dreams he had many years ago."
"Well, most of them dreamed of Paul. Come here, Samuel, and look at this." Alva held up the Hemography file.
Sam looked at Alva, then at Evie, and tried a tentative smile of relief. "You're not frantically running over to Paul's to protect him from Dean. I guess that means the God is Nowhere people aren't some kind of threat. We really didn't know how you would react... we don't know a lot about this thing."
Looking up at him, Alva showed him a sheet of paper from the file. "It will all make a great deal more sense once you read this."
Evie, standing, put a hand on his arm. "We've received information that indicates that 'God is Nowhere' is a positive message. We don't think these people are dangerous."
Relieved, Sam sat down hard into a chair. "Phew! You have no idea what a relief that is."
"I think we can imagine," Evie commented.
Alva plopped the open Hemography file down in front of Sam. "Of course, I'll want to interview your brother and father."
Sam blinked, speechless at first. Interview Dean... and Dad? Finally, he said, "Oh, that's going to be fun..."
*****
Dean had pulled up his jeans but didn't button them, and as he watched Paul doing up his pants now, he wondered why. "You're just giving yourself one extra thing to do later."
Paul looked up. "Huh?"
Smirking mischievously, Dean pointed to Paul's fly. "Or should I say, you're just giving yourself one extra thing to undo later."
Paul took a second to get it. A sly little smile crossed his face. "You think you're getting more after we're done talking?"
"I don't think, I know." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him. "Actually, I should amend that. You're giving me one extra thing to undo later."
Paul, chuckling briefly, responded, "Read the rest of the letter."
"Right." Dean picked up the journal and the letter. "Back in serious mode. I'm sorry, but this'll blow your mind." He cleared his throat and began to read again.
After this happened, Dean began having dreams about a boy named Paul.
Paul's eyes widened in shock for a moment. "You had dreams too? Why does that surprise me; almost all the God is Nowhere people had dreams about me."
Now Dean looked surprised. "They did?"
He nodded, and pointed at the letter, indicating for Dean to continue.
My son told me he dreamed of Paul being three years old, sitting on his father's lap, only he doesn't know it's his father. Dean had other dreams that were too vague for him to describe in detail. Something about this boy, Paul, becoming an adult, and meeting his father again, only he still has no idea this man is his father. These dreams in particular agitated Dean because he was convinced that Paul's dad was a very dangerous man, and seemed to want to protect Paul from him.
As he read, Paul's eyes widened again, filled with confusion, and finally took on that stricken look once more. "Oh... God, Dean... what if I've already met him? And I didn't even know who he was..." He put his head in his hands.
Dean moved over next to him, putting his arms around him and stroking his hair. "I know it's shocking, and I can imagine it must be hard. But maybe you haven't met him yet. Maybe you don't want to."
"Dean..." Paul lifted his head. He was close to tears. "...even if he was the most dangerous man in the world, I'd still want to meet him. He's my father. Even if it's just to ask him why... why he didn't want to be a part of my life... why he left me in an orphanage... I'd want to meet him." His bottom lip quivered.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dean caught that trembling lip up in a small, gentle kiss. "There's nothing in the letter that says it's already happened."
Paul shook his head. "I'm not being totally honest. I had the chance once to meet someone who could have been my father, and I made every excuse in the book not to go. There was a confidential file at the County Records Office that held information on who my father was... the file clerk sent out a request for someone to give me permission to look at it... the man who answered could have been my father. And I just kept saying no, Keel needs me here, whatever I could think of not to go see him when he came into town to look at the file. The truth is, I was scared. He left me once. Maybe... maybe he just didn't like me."
"Oh, Paul, stop it," Dean scolded.
"Trouble happened and I wound up missing him anyway. And you know what he did? He sealed the file so I couldn't look at it. He wanted to make sure that I never find out who he is. How am I supposed to take that, Dean? He doesn't want me. He never wanted me." Paul hid his face in his hands, as if he felt ashamed for being the little boy whose father didn't want him.
Dean gave his shoulders a light shake. "If that's how he feels, then he's a piece of shit, Paul. You hear me? It's not your fault. You were an adorable, innocent little kid, and you're an honorable man now. Any man should be proud to have a son like you. If he doesn't want to know you, then he's not worth it. He's not even a man. He's a coward. Alright? Paul? Look at me."
Paul lifted his head slightly, keeping his hands close to his face. He looked at Dean through teary eyes.
"Don't let the fact that your father's a dick make you feel bad about yourself. Knowing you is more than worth it. Okay?" Dean stroked his thumb over the hair above Paul's ear.
Paul seemed to think it over, and finally nodded.
As an afterthought, Dean added, "Besides, they were just dreams. Who says they're going to come true?"
Paul sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "Everything the others dreamed has come true."
A cold chill swept up Dean's back. He thought of Paul's father sitting by the fountain with the woman at his side, smiling blankly like a department store mannequin. Theresa. Paul's dead mother. "What happened to these people? What did Chad Goodwell do to them?"
Paul began with the hard truth. "He killed them. Five of them."
"Why?"
"Because God told him to."
Dean, squinting, said, "I think you skipped something."
"I just didn't know where else to begin." Letting out a sigh, Paul continued, "There are supposed to be nine God is Nowhere people total. Chad murdered five of them. He was in the process of trying to kill a sixth when I stumbled upon him. I stopped him and the man survived, but the police picked us both up until they could sort out what happened. During the ride to the station, Chad confessed everything to me; he was babbling like a lunatic. He said he had injured himself somehow and bled, and he saw the words the same as I had."
"God is Now Here," Dean interjected.
Paul nodded his affirmation. "Chad claimed that after that, Tommy started to visit him."
Dean, looking surprised and more than a little confused, asked, "His ghost?"
"No. The kid started visiting Chad before he died. Tommy even dropped my name. Said he was going to meet me soon, and that I was the only other person who 'saw the words right.' Chad claimed that Tommy called the God is Nowhere people 'the Darkness' because they were all going to do something horrible to the world. And then God started talking to him. Telling Chad that all of the God is Nowhere people had to die. That it was his duty to kill them all."
After all the evil he had seen throughout his life, Dean thought he instantly recognized what had really happened to Chad Goodwell. "Some thing was manipulating the kid. Chad thought he was listening to Tommy and God, but he was really working for some evil little shit."
"Chad said that since the police had stopped him, it was now up to me to finish off the rest." Paul swallowed hard. "There was a time when I actually considered that he might be right."
"But... you don't believe it anymore. Do you?" Dean questioned.
"No. I can't believe that God works that way. Coercing some poor kid to fly all over the country murdering people?" He folded his hands together, shaking his head. "No, it wasn't God."
"Where is Chad now?"
"Dead. Grabbed a gun off a policeman and shot himself." Paul leaned his chin on his hands; his eyes were on the wall but were clearly not seeing it as he remembered that horrible night. "He asked me to tell his mom that he was sorry, and then he shot himself."
"You saw it?" Dean rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry."
"It's nothing compared to what happened to those innocent people. Chad shot them, he choked them, he tried to beat Mr. Webster to death with an iron... all because they experienced hemography. The only thing that makes sense now is that the God is Nowhere people are... and were... supposed to do something to help the world. Otherwise, why would these evil beings go to such lengths to manipulate an impressionable kid into murdering them?"
The relief had begun to seep into Dean's being, slowly bringing him to realize that this wasn't going to turn out as bad as he had thought it could. Paul was freaked out, but he wasn't going to run away. This God is Nowhere thing didn't mean the bad things that Dean feared it would. He breathed a grateful sigh. "That's a good point. We should figure out what kind of spirits we're dealing with here. There are a few different kinds that can take on the form of a living person. Doppelganger, shape-shifter... maybe Tommy was possessed and really did visit Chad Goodwell in the flesh."
"I got the impression that no one else could see Tommy. That these visits were clandestine, and continued after Tommy died," Paul said.
"Oh. Hm. Then we just need to consider beings that can make themselves invisible to everyone but one person, and not a ghost. Something that can make itself look like anyone it wants. It would have to be something pretty adaptable, chameleon-like. It's actually too bad that Chad Goodwell is dead," Dean sighed. "It would be helpful to interrogate him."
"It wouldn't be helpful to have him running around trying to kill us," added Paul with a huff.
Dean looked at him. "Us?"
Paul almost cringed. "Uh... yeah."
"What do you mean, us?"
"Dean... my blood has spelled out both phrases. I'm also a God is Nowhere person," Paul confessed.
Glaring at him for a few moments, Dean asked, "When were you going to tell me this?"
"When I had the chance."
"Well." Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Guess that means there's only one left whose identity we need to discover."
"Yeah." Thinking it over, Paul also leaned forward, his elbow propped on one knee, hand under his chin. "Dean, can I ask you a really personal question?"
"Most likely." He looked over at Paul.
Paul let out a nervous sigh before launching into the story. "Keel and I trapped a demon once and questioned it. We had trapped it in a magick sign that forced it to tell the truth. The demon said that 'God is Nowhere' is a positive message because it refers to God being there for us when things are at their worst, when we are emotionally and spiritually nowhere."
"That's kinda corny."
Now it was Paul's turn to glare. "It's true, you know."
"Yeah, yeah. Finish your point."
Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Paul went on. "Anyway, all of the God is Nowhere people share a common link - they have all felt this sense of being nowhere. They have, or will, all attempt suicide sometime in their lives." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I have to know... have you ever attempted suicide? Because if you haven't, that means at some point, you will, and I just can't bear the thought - "
Dean's shoulder had stiffened under Paul's hand. He froze, staring at the floor. "Stop," he said, halting Paul's emotionally charged words. Dean didn't answer him for several agonizing moments as he tried to collect his thoughts. "Wow. This is not where I expected the conversation to go."
"Dean?" Paul's voice sounded desperate and weak.
"Paul... yes. Yes, I did try to kill myself."
On to Part 3
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 1 of 4
Rating: NC-17
Dates: Written June-July 2008
Word Count: 5,299 (this chapter), 19,273 total
Summary: Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort.
Pairings: Dean/Paul. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from Scream.
Timeline: Happens after the Supernatural episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the Miracles timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for Miracles.
Warning: Contains spoilers for all of Miracles and Supernatural up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie Scream. Graphic sex between two men. Adult language.
Betas: Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta.
Author's Notes: Follows after "Orange-Flavored Kiss."
It's been a long time since I've written for my OTP. I've been too busy conning others into writing them for me. ^_^ But I always intended to take up this story again. Harshini poking me got me to write it that much sooner.
Kaija West came up with the idea for Dean to be a God is Nowhere person. Idea used with her permission.
"You are not the father!"
Laughing, Paul retorted, "Oh come on, it's her tenth time on the show. This one's got to be the dad."
On Paul's TV screen, Maury Povich opened a manila envelope and took out a piece of paper. "Dominic... you are not the father."
"Ha!" Georgia cried. "You see?"
The audience on The Maury Povich Show momentarily made a great deal of noise in reaction to the result of the paternity test. The female guest had sworn up and down that she was "1000% sure" that Dominic, or maybe the other man she'd brought on the show, Chris, was the father of her baby. To be proven wrong on national TV was humiliating for her and a source of juicy gossip for everyone else in the studio that day. Paul and his best friend Georgia joined in from Paul's home, relaxing on the couch with a bowl of Chex Mix.
"Yeah, well, keep watching. Chris has got to be the father. I can feel it."
Georgia stuffed her mouth full of Chex Mix, rolling her eyes at the same time. "So naïve, Paul," she said; he could barely understand her, as she was chewing. "You don't know a slut when you see one."
"What? Did you just call her a mutt?" Paul asked.
Georgia chuckled, still chewing. "Paul, she's been on the show ten times already."
"Shhh, Maury," he said, pointing at the screen.
Maury opened the second envelope. Chris looked very nervous after finding out that Dominic was not the father; where did that leave him? Drawing out the tension, Maury finally read the paper after a long pause. "Chris... you are not the father!"
The crowd exploded into jubilant chaos. Paul's mouth popped open in a shocked, "Whoooa!" and Georgia began to laugh.
"See, what'd I tell you? Straight up slut."
The shamed mother stomped off the stage and promptly fell to the floor, crying and carrying on hysterically. Paul frowned. "I feel kinda sorry for her kid."
"We all feel sorry for the kid, Paul. He's got a tramp for a mom who doesn't know who her baby daddy is," chuckled Georgia.
"Hm." Paul paused and then added, "That's not why I feel sorry for 'im."
Growing a little somber, she nodded. "No father."
"No father," he agreed.
"That is too bad for the kid. His mom only has herself to blame, though."
"I know." Sighing, a bit weary of the world, Paul grabbed a handful of Chex Mix and put half of it in his mouth.
"Hey, you didn't invite me here so we could get all depressed over Maury. Didn't you want to talk about something?" Georgia asked, thumping him on the shoulder.
His eyes shifting nervously, Paul cleared his throat and started to eat the Chex Mix one piece at a time just to have something to do with his hands. "Uh, yeah. You remember me telling you about... past indiscretions... in college, and a couple of times with Jason?"
Georgia sat up a little straighter. When Paul said he wanted to talk about something, she hadn't expected it would be this. "Yeah..."
"It happened again the other night," he said with a nervous little laugh.
"No! Was it Jason?" Georgia asked, astonished.
Paul shook his head. "You don't know him."
"How'd it happen?"
"Uh... where do I start... you know how the first time, it was just... I was young, and curious, and the guy pursued me... you know how college is."
Georgia burst out with a laugh. "Yeah," she said in a tone that spoke of a few of her own college indiscretions.
"Then, the two times with Jason were because of upsetting things that happened to me..." Paul continued.
"Your break-up with Rebecca and the kid in Arizona dying?"
"Tommy Ferguson," he added, and confirmed, "Yeah. Well, something else happened. I... I recovered my memories of what happened in Vermont in 1998."
Gasping, Georgia said, "That time you were drugged and drove to Mountaineer?"
"Yes. Turns out... I don't even know how to say this, it sounds so insane. I mean, I know that you have a little experience with weird things after those letters you were receiving from your father, but... it's really out there, Georgia. I don't even want to think how it sounded to the psychologist who hypnotized me." Having finished his snack, Paul started wiping his fingers on a napkin. It didn't seem like he could get them clean enough, with how much he wiped them.
"Paul, it's okay. Whatever happened, I'll listen to whatever you want to tell me."
It took him several seconds to find the words he wanted to use. "I was attacked and drugged."
"Oh, Paul..." Georgia reached out and hugged him to her. He closed his eyes, hugging her back, holding on a little long. "I'm so sorry."
He moved away, but kept a hand on her arm. "It gave me the drug by force. I had no choice but to do its bidding."
"It?"
Paul looked at her. "That's the insane part," he said. "I'd rather not get into that part of it right now. The point is that the recovery of those memories was, well, traumatic."
"Of course it was," Georgia said soothingly. She eyed the bandages on his hands.
"I met Dean, and he was dealing with problems of his own. And I... I told you how I feel when I get like that."
She nodded, knowing how hard it was for him to verbalize his desires for men, no matter how infrequent. "You brought him home?"
"Yeah."
"His name was Dean?"
"Yeah. Dean Winchester."
"The two of you... how far did you go?"
Not able to help it, Paul snorted. "I can't just say it..."
"What base did he get to?" Georgia asked.
He laughed. "What base... oh boy. You know, I've never been really clear on what the various bases are supposed to mean..."
"Did you have sex with him?"
Chewing on his lower lip, Paul looked down at the floor and chuckled to himself nervously.
"Paul?"
"Yes," he replied, voice too loud and too sharp. Somehow, he drew up enough courage to add, "Twice."
Georgia managed not to gasp. "You were upset."
He cringed. "That's the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"At first, I wanted Dean's comfort, and he gave it willingly. But then, I didn't want it to stop. We spent... hours together, Georgia. It just went on and on... and I didn't want it to stop." Paul tentatively looked over at her, to see the reaction on her face. "I've never wanted a man like that before."
Her expression was one of almost shock. "You started to desire him not for comfort... but for him?"
Desperate for her to understand, Paul nodded, his own face distraught with worry. "And when I have the chance, I want to be with him again. I can't stop thinking about it." He almost sounded like he was on the verge of panic. "I'm not gay, Georgia. I'm still attracted to women. What's happening to me?"
She rubbed his arm, hoping to be soothing, to calm him down. "I don't know exactly, Paul. Sometimes, you meet someone and there's something special about them, and they do things for you that no one else has ever been able to do. Maybe for you, Dean is that person." Growing up Catholic also, Georgia understood why this was confusing for him. "Did you manage to get a picture of the guy?"
Paul briefly considered showing her a picture from his cell phone, but decided quickly that it would be embarrassing if she saw the look on Dean's face and his half-dressed state (and those were the pictures he could show her; he didn't even want to think of how Georgia would react if she saw the other pictures). Instead, Paul went to his kitchen table where the hard copy of the Winchester file sat and dug out Dean's photo.
When Georgia saw it, her eyes widened. "Whoa, Paul! This guy's gorgeous!"
He couldn't help but smile and chortle.
She went on. "A guy like this could charm the skin off a sausage."
To that, Paul laughed out loud. "Georgia! That's quite the comparison you just made."
She realized her double entendré and laughed herself, shaking her head. "Okay, maybe I meant that literally."
Paul snatched the picture out of her hand. "I better take this back before you drool all over it and ruin it."
"Me?" She watched him as he gazed longingly at the photo before putting it back in the file. "You really like this guy, don't you?"
"Yeah. You could say that."
Georgia knew by the way he said it that it was the understatement of the year. Her eyes widened in amazement again. "Paul... are you falling in love with him?"
Not looking at her, Paul studied the floor, his own eyes going wide for a second and his breath catching in his chest. He almost instantly started, "N - " but couldn't finish the word; Paul had hardly ever lied to Georgia. Deep down inside, he knew that he couldn't deny it and be entirely truthful. There was something happening between Dean Winchester and himself. But, was it love? After all Paul had been taught in Catholic school, did he even believe it was possible for him to fall in love with a man? "I... don't know, Georgia," he finally said, looking at her. "It would be easier if I could say no, but I can't. After knowing him for only a few days, I already care about his well-being so much that it terrifies me to think I may never see him again. You don't worry about somebody like that if there's nothing between you. A friendship, a fondness, something. But it's much more than that. You ask me if I'm falling in love with Dean and my answer is... I just don't know."
The look of confusion on Paul's face was so intense that it was almost stricken. Georgia's heart went out to her friend. She wished she had all the answers he seeked. They'd been brought up the same way, but Georgia wasn't as confused about whether or not two men could genuinely fall in love with each other - she believed they could, even if it was contrary to the fundamental beliefs of her church. But if Georgia ever found herself in the same situation, and had deep feelings for another woman, would she be so sure? She uttered, "Oh, Paul," and gave him another hug. He embraced her back, grateful to have her to talk to and understand what he was going through, what a struggle this was for him. "You'll figure it out. I'll always be here when you need someone to talk to, okay? It will be alright."
"You have no idea how bad I needed to hear that, George. You just have no idea... this is the first time I've felt this way toward someone since... well, since..." Paul struggled with his words, obviously fighting back tears.
Georgia's mouth fell open. "Since Rebecca?"
Nodding, Paul let out a deep breath.
A wave of emotion swept over Georgia, and she fought back tears of her own. She knew what this meant for him. If Dean didn't feel the same way, Paul could be really hurt. Georgia patted the back of his hand and squeezed it gently. "That's okay. There's nothing wrong with caring about someone."
Paul only nodded back, solemnly.
Understanding the full gravity of why he couldn't talk to Father Calero yet, Georgia didn't suggest that he talk to his parish priest as she usually would. Instead, she took one of his hands and unfolded it, looking at the bandages. "You have cheddar fingers."
Paul began to laugh. "You're the one who brought the Cheddar Chex Mix."
While they were heading into the bathroom to change Paul's bandages, Dean's eyes were on the road, but his heart and mind were there with Paul, drinking in his feelings through the empathic link. In the last hour, Paul had felt amusement, surprise, then confusion and fear. He was conflicted and afraid, but also sent out such warmth and caring, and was grateful for someone's help. Dean wondered what the hell Paul could have been doing that would cause such a range of emotions.
"That sign back there said the next exit was Boston," Sam informed him. He knew from the far-off look on Dean's face that he was too lost in thought to notice everything. "You better call Paul and let him know we're almost there."
"Oh, yeah..." Dean got out his cell phone and dialed up Paul's number.
Georgia was helping him rewrap his left hand when Paul's cell phone rang. He stopped wrapping long enough to get the phone out of his pocket and look at it to see who was calling. His eyes showed surprise, then he smiled sheepishly. "It's Dean."
Grinning mischievously, she crooned, "Ohhhh... your boyfriend."
Paul gave her shoulder a playful whack with his free hand, but instantly regretted it. "Oooh, ow," he growled with a cringe. Georgia couldn't help but laugh. Putting a finger to his lips to shush her, he answered the phone. "Good morning, Dean."
"Hey, you. Uh, I mean Paul." Dean glanced at his brother to see if he noticed the overexcited tone he had started to use for the phone call. Sam had, but he acted like he hadn't. "We're on the edge of town, heading your way. You're decent, aren't you? Not, like, naked or something?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Paul teased. Georgia raised any eyebrow.
"I will in a bit," replied Dean. He kept one eye on the road and the other on Sam. "I'm telling him we'll be there in a bit."
"You liar," Paul laughed. "Yes, it's okay for you guys to head over."
"Okay, we'll see you in about ten minutes. Bye." Trying to be good for Sam's ignorant sake, Dean hung up and smiled at him innocently.
If only he knew how far from ignorant Sam was, he'd understand how fake that smile looked to him.
Georgia tried to appear innocent herself. "You want I should make myself scarce?"
Paul, shaking his head, replied, "I want you to stay and meet him."
Georgia put a hand to her heart. "Paul, meeting the family already?"
He went to smack her again, but stopped short and picked up a magazine, with which he gave her a good whack.
By the time Dean rapped on the door, Paul's hands were reswaddled in clean bandages and he and Georgia were waiting in the living room. Paul wanted badly to give Dean a deep kiss as soon as he saw him, standing in the doorway, but knew that he couldn't. Not in front of the mop-haired little brother standing next to the object of his admiration.
As if to make things even harder, Dean flashed a gorgeous smile. "Hey Paul. Can we come in?"
"You have to ask?" Grinning like a fool, Paul opened the door wide for them. "Morning, Sam."
"Morning." He saw the dark-haired woman sitting on Paul's couch. "You got company."
"Yeah. Uh, Dean, Sam, this is my best friend, Georgia Wilson. Georgia, this is Dean and his brother Sam Winchester."
She stood up, trying to keep her knowing smile to a minimum. "Pleased to meet you."
They each shook her hand. Dean eyed her, and then eyed Paul, trying to figure out if she'd just paid her friend a brief visit or if she had been the source of all those varied feelings coming off Paul. Had they been talking about him? "Good to meet you too."
"I just came in to say hello. Dean needs to talk to you about something, so I'm going to head on over to SQ and meet you guys there later," explained Sam. Dean handed him the keys.
"Well," Georgia began, clapping her hands together, "I must be on my way. Talk with you later, Paul?" The look she gave him said, Later, when you'll dish all the dirt?
He squinted an eye at her for being so obvious and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Have a good weekend, George."
"Hey, why don't I give Sam a ride to SQ?" she suggested. "I know where it is, and that way, he could leave the car for you," Georgia said to Dean.
"Works for me," he replied.
"Alright, well, see you later?" Sam looked at his brother with an expression that said, Good luck.
Dean nodded, swallowing down his apprehension.
With a wave and a duck out the door, Sam and Georgia were gone, and Paul was locking the door behind them. When he turned around, Dean poked him hard in the chest. "Put that crystal ward back where I left it. I don't want the Keel bitches coming in here and interrupting us again."
"Okay, okay, sheesh." Paul got the crystal out of a desk drawer and handed it to him.
Dean put the crystal back under one of the windows in Paul's apartment. "There."
"You can just put it back like that and it works?"
"That's how I set up the spell. Now..." Dean nearly pounced on Paul, taking his face in his hands and kissing him with all the pent up passion he hadn't been able to act on the night before. Paul let out a frustrated, excited noise; he felt like he'd been waiting for this for much longer than he actually had. They backed into a wall and, as Dean was kissing Paul, he lifted his arms above his head, caressing them as he went, rubbing his fingers over Paul's bandages gently, then moving his hands down to the bottom of Paul's sweater vest. Dean lifted the sweater over his head and broke the kiss long enough to pull it off. Paul breathed out heavily, watching him toss the sweater onto the couch.
Paul leaned in to kiss him again, but Dean put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Wait."
"What, what?" Paul said impatiently.
"I've got something really serious to talk to you about."
Sighing, he asked, "It can't wait?"
"It really can't wait," answered Dean.
Paul looked at his sweater lying on the couch. "If you wanted to talk to me first, then why were you undressing me?"
Glancing at the sweater vest, Dean squared his shoulders and grinned mischievously. "I just don't like it on ya." And without another word, he strolled into Paul's bedroom.
Downstairs in the parking lot, Georgia made a half circle around the long black Impala. "Hey, get the boat car. I've never seen this monstrosity around Paul's building before."
Sam snickered. "It's my brother's."
"Oh, I should have known a guy like that would have a car like this." Chuckling herself, she pointed across the parking lot. "There's mine. Let's be off, shall we?"
He frowned at the compact car. "I hope I can fit in that cracker box."
"It's not my fault you're the Jolly Green Giant."
Once he was seated on the passenger side, Sam let out a laugh at how his knees were practically pressed into his chest. "Fee, fi, fo, fum..."
"Sorry." Georgia reached over and grabbed a handle on the left front of his chair. "Push back."
He did, and the seat moved back a few inches. "Thanks, that's a little better." Sam looked up at the roof of the car, trying not to hit his head on it; the car lacked headroom for him, too.
Once they were underway, Georgia opened a compartment between them and brought out a bottle. "Protein water?"
"Sure. I'm a bit thirsty."
"I thought you'd like it. You look like you work out."
"Yeah, I do." Sam twisted the cap off and started to drink.
"Me too. I don't weight train, but I run every morning, rain or shine."
They chatted about running and working out for a few minutes, making polite conversation. "...I've tried to take Paul out a couple of times, but he hated it. Bitched and moaned about his calves aching. Such a delicate flower."
Sam snickered again.
"So I know you and your brother didn't meet Paul at the gym." Georgia was fishing for information, she knew it. She just wondered if Sam did.
"No, we met on the job. Uh, we do the same thing that SQ does," he replied, and added, "Basically."
"Oh? I had no idea there were more people around who... do whatever you'd call it," she said with a laugh. "I don't even know what a person would put in the Job Description box on their tax forms when that's what they do for a living."
Sam played along. A person didn't file taxes for demon hunting. "I just write 'Ghost Buster.'"
Laughing again, Georgia commented, "The IRS must love that." There was a pause, and then she continued solemnly, "SQ worked a case for me a few years ago. I was getting letters from my father. He died when I was seven."
Sam, turning his head sharply in surprise, looked at her. "Really?"
"Yes. They were being written through the man who murdered him." She glanced over at him to see the look on his face, gauge whether or not he believed her. "He'd go into a trance and write all these letters from his victims. He was a hit man."
Sam nodded. "Automatic writing."
So he did believe her. "That's what Mr. Keel called it. Whatever it was, it made a believer out of me. At least in the afterlife. My parents are waiting for me in Heaven." Georgia smiled wistfully.
Thinking about what she'd said, Sam asked, "That's where you know Paul from? The orphanage?"
She tried to shake off any melancholy feelings brought on by the turn of conversation. "Yes."
"Well, it's nice that you have such a welcoming view of the afterlife." With all that Sam knew, he couldn't be so sure that death was so beautiful for everyone. "It must be comforting."
"It is," she replied, and smiled to herself, thinking of her father. "So, what are Paul and Dean talking about? Ghost-related stuff?"
That stopped Sam for a moment, with all the angry things he wanted to say about what he knew Dean wanted to be doing with Paul that he thought his little brother didn't know about. "Yeah, job stuff."
"Oh. I guess they were planning on having a good long talk, since you left." Fishing again.
At that, Sam looked angry now instead of just feeling it. "Yeah. That's all they're planning on doing. Having a talk."
Georgia slowly looked over at Sam, trying to figure out what he knew and to what he was reacting. "Is there something else?"
He almost frowned, and then gazed out the window. "No."
"Oh. Paul mentioned there were some new doings going on regarding something that happened to him in Vermont about eight years ago. Are they talking about that?"
"That's part of it." Sam looked back over at her. "You and Paul had a nice long talk this morning about what's going on?"
"Yeah. Big heart to heart. Paul likes to spill his guts," Georgia laughed.
"Hmph." Sam stared out the window again. "Must be nice when someone trusts you enough to tell you what's going on in their life, even their deepest, darkest secrets." He took a long swig from the bottle of water.
"Yeah, sure is." Georgia thought she'd figured out what the problem was. She smirked at the thought of what she was about to say, but the kid needed to talk. "So... how long have you known that Paul and your brother are getting it on?"
Sputtering and choking on his water, a shocked Sam tried to say, "What?!" but that only made the water go up the back of his throat and out his nose. He put a hand to his nose and coughed and sputtered some more.
Georgia, not able to help it, chuckled, and dug a napkin out of the center console. "Are you new at this?"
Still coughing a bit, Sam put the napkin to his nose. "What?" he began, between hacks. "Drinking, or knowing that my brother is bisexual?"
*****
Dean dropped his duffle bag on the floor and sat on Paul's bed, taking in his posture as he followed him into the room. "Don't be mad, Paul," he said as more of a request than a command.
Paul, rolling his eyes with amusement, relented and sat on the bed next to Dean. "Whatever. You're such a tease."
"I know." Dean suddenly grew serious, looking down at his hands intertwined in his lap. "Paul, I have something very serious to talk to you about, and I really don't know what your reaction is going to be because I don't know enough to even guess. I knew that this could be such a blow that you... you might not feel like having sex with me, and I couldn't take advantage of that by screwing you first, so I'm telling you now."
The more Paul heard, the more his face twisted in confusion.
"I didn't tell you on the phone last night because I thought it was better if you heard this in person." Dean reached into his jacket, pulling out his father's journal. He just held it for a few seconds, feeling its weight in his hands, before he spoke again. "After we left the other day, Sam had a vision. He saw himself ripping out the back pocket of our father's journal, right here." Dean opened the journal and showed Paul where the back had been pulled up. "Behind it, he found this letter. Our father wrote it in 1984." Taking out the letter, he unfolded it, looking at it for a long time in silence.
Paul reached in with the empathic link, and was shocked to find the feeling that was foremost in Dean's emotional core right now... was fear. He tried to stroke those feelings down with his psychic link, soothe them, quiet them, put them out, but he wasn't really successful. "Dean, what does it say?"
"Uh..." Dean readjusted the letter in his hands. At that moment, Paul caught sight of one of the folded sides and saw the words 'God is Nowhere' written there. His breath stopped in his throat so loudly that it came out as a choked gasp; Dean knew what had caused that reaction and he cringed. He didn't dare look at Paul. "I told you it was bad," Dean remarked.
Giving his dry lips a pass with his tongue, Paul said, "Read it."
It wasn't addressed to anyone, the letter just began...
I must hide this paper after I have written what happened that day in 1984. My research on the 'God is Nowhere' phenomena is sketchy, but more than one reputable psychic has told me that anyone whose blood spells out these words is in danger - a danger to themselves, and in danger from agents of evil. That is why I must chronicle what happened and then hide this paper, to protect the life of my son.
Dean dared to look at Paul then. His mouth hung open in shock; he clearly couldn't believe what he was hearing. Paul tried to speak for several seconds, but couldn't form the words at first. "You... your... your father wrote that?"
Just nodding in reply, Dean continued.
That day, we had all gone to the park to meet with a woman named Lydia Goodwell.
Paul made a strangled noise and put his head in his hands. "Oh, God. Goodwell. Goodwell."
Testing the waters, Dean put a hand on Paul's back and started to rub it slowly. "Do you want me to go on?"
Paul, without looking up, nodded for him to keep reading.
She had received a very disturbing prophecy about her own child and hoped I could help her sort it out.
To that, Paul snorted. "Holy Christ," he mumbled to himself. "Give me strength."
Dean knew he had to read it all; it would be easier in the long run to just get it all out.
My son does not remember this incident because he was too young. He couldn't even read yet. When this thing happened, I had my baby Sammy lying on a park bench so I could change his diaper. My older son Dean climbed up on the jungle gym. I was distracted, so I didn't notice the boy walking the top of the jungle gym until it was too late. He called to me that he was practicing his balance, and then I heard him yelp as he lost it. A meaty thud followed.
He started to scream and cry. By the time I reached him, his busted lip had bled quite a bit, along with the spot where he'd knocked out two baby teeth. The blood pooled on the pavement where he'd fallen. I picked him up to comfort him and try to stop the bleeding. The woman I'd met that day at the park ran over with my other son in her arms, and she scared us all when she pointed and shrieked at the pool of blood. The blood had formed words. It formed the words God is Nowhere.
Again, Dean looked at Paul to see how he was reacting. "Paul, look at me."
He did. Paul's face was so stricken that Dean feared he might actually be ill. His eyes glistened, as if on the verge of crying.
"Does this change anything between us?"
Chapters: 2 of 4
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,559 (this chapter), 19,273 total
Author's Notes: The part about the God is Nowhere phenom refers to a past Miracles fanfic of mine, but you don't necessarily have to read that story to enjoy this one.
"Does this change anything between us?" Dean asked. It shocked him, how weak and scared his own voice sounded.
A beat and Paul wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, kissing him on the mouth. Longing for his comfort, needing to quiet his fears. Dean put his free hand on the back of Paul's neck and kissed him back with relief and passion. They shared a few more small kisses, then just sat for half a minute with their foreheads resting against each other, breathing and brushing their lips together.
There were certain words Paul wanted to say, and if he'd said them, he would have meant them, but his own fear kept him from telling Dean how he was now sure he felt. Instead, he said something he knew Dean needed to hear at that moment. "It doesn't change this between us. Not at all."
A tiny whimper escaped Dean before he dropped the letter on the floor and put both arms around Paul, kissing him with all his passion. His father's journal slid off his lap and to the floor, and they kissed without thinking about anything but each other until they were so hot and bothered that they could think of nothing but rubbing their bodies together and seeking release.
Dean began to remove his jacket. Paul noticed and said between kisses, "Haven't finished the letter."
"It'll keep," Dean responded, throwing off his jacket and then going for Paul's shirt.
A minute later, they were both naked from the waist up and undoing each other's pants. Paul stood to push his down off his hips; at the same time, Dean simply leaned up off the bed and quickly shoved his down to mid-thigh, then sat back down, a move he'd obviously performed many times before. Paul hurriedly reached into the bedside table drawer, getting out the warming lube and tossing it at Dean. It landed on the bed next to Dean's hip. Then, with a heavy breath, Paul put his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed him down on the bed, falling on top of him and kissing him as their hips came together.
Dean let out a hard breath at the first touch of Paul's cock to his. He let Paul feverishly rub against him, desperately, moaning in his ear, while he fumbled open the tube of lubricant and got some on his hand. Then he rolled Paul over on his side and moved up against him until their crotches touched again. Dean took hold of his lover's cock - Paul made a whiny moaning sound - and wrapped it in a loose fist along with his own. He began to stroke them both off with that warm, lubed hand, sometimes rubbing the other man's balls, often causing heated friction by stroking his cock against Paul's. They kissed and ran their hands through each other's hair and over each other's chests while moaning and panting, their lips always close together.
Paul moaned Dean's name helplessly, bucking his hips into Dean's fist. It wasn't long before the room filled with the sounds of squeaking bedsprings and heavy breathing and pleading.
"Bring me off, Dean... make me cum," Paul moaned, his lips brushing Dean's.
"Say please," he teased.
Paul didn't protest for even a second. "Please, Dean. Please make me cum."
Growling, Dean stroked them both down as fast as he could move his hand. Paul let out another helpless whine. For the next thirty seconds, the only sounds they made were heavy breaths and moans from the backs of their throats, and then they came within seconds of each other, spraying the other man's chest with white ropes and spatters. It took another minute for their breathing to slow and for Dean to stop moving his fist, the motion slowing until his fingers simply rested possessively on Paul's crotch. They gazed into each other's eyes.
Paul, unable to hold it in, began, "Dean, I... I..." He couldn't say it. There were too many years of repressed feelings and shameful confessions between them. "...I really... really care for you."
Dean stroked the hair at his temple softly. "I care for you too." They shared another deep, desperate kiss. Then Dean leaned in and started licking cum off of Paul's chest. He lapped clean his stomach, making Paul tremble ticklishly, and flicked at his nipples with his tongue. When he was done, Paul did the same for him, taking the time to suck Dean's nipples while Dean stroked his hair. They couldn't stop touching each other.
Now that they had relieved their immediate tensions, they could get back to their talk. Dean wasted no time. "So what does it mean, the God is Nowhere thing? What does it mean for me?"
Paul sat up, getting a towel from on top of the nearby clothes hamper so they could clean up. "Let's finish your father's letter."
*****
"Why don't you just tell your brother that you know about his relationship with Paul?" Georgia was saying as she pulled into the parking lot of the building Sodalitas Quaerito occupied.
"Because he's been keeping this attraction to men secret from me for at least ten years. Ten years! We've kept secrets from each other before, but something like this... it's a big deal." Sam huffed, agitated. "I don't want to have to ask him. He's going to tell me. He's my brother. You don't keep a secret like that from family."
Georgia switched the car off, then turned in her seat so that she was partially facing him. "Sam, those are precisely the people you keep a secret like that from, when you're afraid of how they'll react."
He didn't say anything, just thinking about what she'd said.
She continued. "Dean is the macho type. Tall guy, big, got the spiky hair, the muscle car, the manly persona... this is how people see him. It's his image. Then, he discovers that he's got an attraction to men. This doesn't really go along with the rest of the image, does it?"
Sam shook his head. "No."
"I bet Dean was pretty embarrassed when he realized he was going to have to tell people how he felt. Maybe even scared."
Again, Sam shook his head, more forcefully this time. "He knows he doesn't have anything to be afraid of. I'm not some homophobic jerk."
Georgia, shrugging, said, "Maybe not, but Sam? It's different when you have to tell someone very close to you a big secret about yourself, especially when it could totally blow their image of you. Don't you understand? It's different when it's personal."
He didn't know what to say in response; she had a point. Sam had kept his own secrets from Dean until he was ready to tell him, and it had been exactly for the reason she'd said - because he was afraid of his brother's reaction. "But ten years, Georgia? To keep it from me for ten years?"
She gave a light shrug. "If he'd told you he had romantic feelings toward men back then, would you even have been able to believe him? Maybe it was something you had to see with your own eyes. Maybe when it started, you were too young to understand. And as you both got older, and the time passed, he'd been keeping the secret for so long that it just got easier to keep and harder to tell." Georgia paused, then finished, "Maybe Dean was afraid that if you knew he wasn't all that you thought he was, you would leave."
Those words hit Sam hard in the gut. ...you would leave. College. Stanford. Sam had left, and planned to go back once he found that yellow-eyed animal and had taken his revenge. Was it possible that in the back of Dean's mind, he thought Sam had left because he knew? And was he afraid Sam would leave him again for the same reason? If he did leave... when he would leave and return to Stanford... Sam had to be sure that his brother knew precisely why. It bothered him to think that Dean could be punishing himself for a decision that had nothing to do with him. "You're a smart woman, Georgia."
Georgia grinned, laughing through her teeth. "You'll talk to him then?"
"In time." Sam got out of the car and leaned down to the open window. "Thanks for the ride."
"No problem. Hey, when you do talk to Dean, be gentle, okay? Paul's pretty freaked out about this too. This isn't a common relationship for him, but he's involved now. I don't want him to get hurt."
Giving her a nod, Sam replied, "I promise I'll think of Paul's feelings too." He started to go, but turned back and leaned down to the window again. "I'm glad Paul has such a good friend who cares about him so much. It makes all of this much easier."
They shared a smile, and then Sam climbed the stairs to the back entrance of SQ.
He found the door open, a light breeze blowing into the office. Alva and Evie were inside, leaning over a box of files; they looked up in surprise when Sam entered. "Samuel!" Alva said, straightening up. "You're back from Vermont."
"Hi." Sam raised the bottle of protein water as a form of greeting.
"Where's your brother?" Evie asked.
"He's over at Paul's, having a talk with him. They'll be in later."
"Oh?" Alva seemed curious and suspicious at the same time. "What are they talking about?"
"Well... guess there isn't any reason not to just get right into it. We have something pretty serious to tell you. Dean thought it was only right to tell Paul himself. I'm supposed to relay the story to you two."
Alva and Evie looked at each other. "Is it about the Mothman?" Evie questioned.
"Not entirely." Sam let out a nervous sigh. "You may want to sit down."
The two glanced at each other again, and then Alva took a seat. Evie remained standing, picking up her large coffee mug and holding it in both hands, taking a sip. They both looked troubled.
With a deep breath, Sam began, "After we left the other day, I had one of my visions. I saw myself finding a note hidden in the back of our father's journal. So, I went looking for it, and I found it. Dad wrote this letter in 1984. It was about how he met with a woman at a park back then; she had sought him out for help with a prophecy a psychic had made about her son.
"Her name was Lydia Goodwell."
Alva gasped; Evie's eyes went wide, and they looked at each other again.
"You would have to fill in a lot of the details on that one. All I know is that her son, Chad, went on a killing spree years later. I guess my dad wasn't able to help her."
Swallowing hard, Alva nodded slightly. "We can fill in those details."
"Good. Anyway, the letter continues... saying that my brother was playing on the jungle gym and fell off. Dean was only five at the time. Dad and the woman run over with me just in time to see..." Now Sam swallowed down a lump of apprehension and worry. "...to see that Dean had busted his mouth open. And his blood had pooled on the ground... spelling out the words 'God is Nowhere.'"
This time, Evie gasped; her hands gave a sudden tremor and released the coffee mug. It shattered on the hard floor. A puddle of coffee spread at her feet. Sam jumped in surprise at the noise.
Alva put a hand over his mouth. "Oh... of course. Of course. I should have known," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "The Mothman has given me clues about the God is Nowhere people since the beginning. This is why he brought us all together. Your brother... is person number eight."
Concerned, Sam grabbed a roll of paper towels off a nearby desk and ripped off a bunch, then handed the roll to Evie. "Are you okay?"
She blinked several times, swayed, and steadied herself against her desk. "I'm alright, just... never expected to hear that." Evie took the paper towels. They both bent down and started to wipe up the coffee. Sam slid the trashcan next to him over so he could pick up the pieces of the mug and dispose of them.
Alva immediately began to dig through the box of files. "Hemography, Hemography, it's in here somewhere..."
"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" Sam asked Evie.
She seemed to shake it off. "I'm fine." Frowning, Evie looked at a piece of the colorful mug. "Matty gave this to me," she lamented, and regretfully tossed it into the trashcan.
"Hm?" Alva looked down at where they were crouched, finally noticing. "Oh, your Mother's Day mug... I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Evie rolled her eyes and sighed; wasn't like there was anything she could do about it now. "I've got a couple more a lot like it."
While they cleaned up the mess, Sam finished the story. "Our dad's letter ends with details about some dreams Dean had about Paul. Dreams he had many years ago."
"Well, most of them dreamed of Paul. Come here, Samuel, and look at this." Alva held up the Hemography file.
Sam looked at Alva, then at Evie, and tried a tentative smile of relief. "You're not frantically running over to Paul's to protect him from Dean. I guess that means the God is Nowhere people aren't some kind of threat. We really didn't know how you would react... we don't know a lot about this thing."
Looking up at him, Alva showed him a sheet of paper from the file. "It will all make a great deal more sense once you read this."
Evie, standing, put a hand on his arm. "We've received information that indicates that 'God is Nowhere' is a positive message. We don't think these people are dangerous."
Relieved, Sam sat down hard into a chair. "Phew! You have no idea what a relief that is."
"I think we can imagine," Evie commented.
Alva plopped the open Hemography file down in front of Sam. "Of course, I'll want to interview your brother and father."
Sam blinked, speechless at first. Interview Dean... and Dad? Finally, he said, "Oh, that's going to be fun..."
*****
Dean had pulled up his jeans but didn't button them, and as he watched Paul doing up his pants now, he wondered why. "You're just giving yourself one extra thing to do later."
Paul looked up. "Huh?"
Smirking mischievously, Dean pointed to Paul's fly. "Or should I say, you're just giving yourself one extra thing to undo later."
Paul took a second to get it. A sly little smile crossed his face. "You think you're getting more after we're done talking?"
"I don't think, I know." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him. "Actually, I should amend that. You're giving me one extra thing to undo later."
Paul, chuckling briefly, responded, "Read the rest of the letter."
"Right." Dean picked up the journal and the letter. "Back in serious mode. I'm sorry, but this'll blow your mind." He cleared his throat and began to read again.
After this happened, Dean began having dreams about a boy named Paul.
Paul's eyes widened in shock for a moment. "You had dreams too? Why does that surprise me; almost all the God is Nowhere people had dreams about me."
Now Dean looked surprised. "They did?"
He nodded, and pointed at the letter, indicating for Dean to continue.
My son told me he dreamed of Paul being three years old, sitting on his father's lap, only he doesn't know it's his father. Dean had other dreams that were too vague for him to describe in detail. Something about this boy, Paul, becoming an adult, and meeting his father again, only he still has no idea this man is his father. These dreams in particular agitated Dean because he was convinced that Paul's dad was a very dangerous man, and seemed to want to protect Paul from him.
As he read, Paul's eyes widened again, filled with confusion, and finally took on that stricken look once more. "Oh... God, Dean... what if I've already met him? And I didn't even know who he was..." He put his head in his hands.
Dean moved over next to him, putting his arms around him and stroking his hair. "I know it's shocking, and I can imagine it must be hard. But maybe you haven't met him yet. Maybe you don't want to."
"Dean..." Paul lifted his head. He was close to tears. "...even if he was the most dangerous man in the world, I'd still want to meet him. He's my father. Even if it's just to ask him why... why he didn't want to be a part of my life... why he left me in an orphanage... I'd want to meet him." His bottom lip quivered.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dean caught that trembling lip up in a small, gentle kiss. "There's nothing in the letter that says it's already happened."
Paul shook his head. "I'm not being totally honest. I had the chance once to meet someone who could have been my father, and I made every excuse in the book not to go. There was a confidential file at the County Records Office that held information on who my father was... the file clerk sent out a request for someone to give me permission to look at it... the man who answered could have been my father. And I just kept saying no, Keel needs me here, whatever I could think of not to go see him when he came into town to look at the file. The truth is, I was scared. He left me once. Maybe... maybe he just didn't like me."
"Oh, Paul, stop it," Dean scolded.
"Trouble happened and I wound up missing him anyway. And you know what he did? He sealed the file so I couldn't look at it. He wanted to make sure that I never find out who he is. How am I supposed to take that, Dean? He doesn't want me. He never wanted me." Paul hid his face in his hands, as if he felt ashamed for being the little boy whose father didn't want him.
Dean gave his shoulders a light shake. "If that's how he feels, then he's a piece of shit, Paul. You hear me? It's not your fault. You were an adorable, innocent little kid, and you're an honorable man now. Any man should be proud to have a son like you. If he doesn't want to know you, then he's not worth it. He's not even a man. He's a coward. Alright? Paul? Look at me."
Paul lifted his head slightly, keeping his hands close to his face. He looked at Dean through teary eyes.
"Don't let the fact that your father's a dick make you feel bad about yourself. Knowing you is more than worth it. Okay?" Dean stroked his thumb over the hair above Paul's ear.
Paul seemed to think it over, and finally nodded.
As an afterthought, Dean added, "Besides, they were just dreams. Who says they're going to come true?"
Paul sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "Everything the others dreamed has come true."
A cold chill swept up Dean's back. He thought of Paul's father sitting by the fountain with the woman at his side, smiling blankly like a department store mannequin. Theresa. Paul's dead mother. "What happened to these people? What did Chad Goodwell do to them?"
Paul began with the hard truth. "He killed them. Five of them."
"Why?"
"Because God told him to."
Dean, squinting, said, "I think you skipped something."
"I just didn't know where else to begin." Letting out a sigh, Paul continued, "There are supposed to be nine God is Nowhere people total. Chad murdered five of them. He was in the process of trying to kill a sixth when I stumbled upon him. I stopped him and the man survived, but the police picked us both up until they could sort out what happened. During the ride to the station, Chad confessed everything to me; he was babbling like a lunatic. He said he had injured himself somehow and bled, and he saw the words the same as I had."
"God is Now Here," Dean interjected.
Paul nodded his affirmation. "Chad claimed that after that, Tommy started to visit him."
Dean, looking surprised and more than a little confused, asked, "His ghost?"
"No. The kid started visiting Chad before he died. Tommy even dropped my name. Said he was going to meet me soon, and that I was the only other person who 'saw the words right.' Chad claimed that Tommy called the God is Nowhere people 'the Darkness' because they were all going to do something horrible to the world. And then God started talking to him. Telling Chad that all of the God is Nowhere people had to die. That it was his duty to kill them all."
After all the evil he had seen throughout his life, Dean thought he instantly recognized what had really happened to Chad Goodwell. "Some thing was manipulating the kid. Chad thought he was listening to Tommy and God, but he was really working for some evil little shit."
"Chad said that since the police had stopped him, it was now up to me to finish off the rest." Paul swallowed hard. "There was a time when I actually considered that he might be right."
"But... you don't believe it anymore. Do you?" Dean questioned.
"No. I can't believe that God works that way. Coercing some poor kid to fly all over the country murdering people?" He folded his hands together, shaking his head. "No, it wasn't God."
"Where is Chad now?"
"Dead. Grabbed a gun off a policeman and shot himself." Paul leaned his chin on his hands; his eyes were on the wall but were clearly not seeing it as he remembered that horrible night. "He asked me to tell his mom that he was sorry, and then he shot himself."
"You saw it?" Dean rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry."
"It's nothing compared to what happened to those innocent people. Chad shot them, he choked them, he tried to beat Mr. Webster to death with an iron... all because they experienced hemography. The only thing that makes sense now is that the God is Nowhere people are... and were... supposed to do something to help the world. Otherwise, why would these evil beings go to such lengths to manipulate an impressionable kid into murdering them?"
The relief had begun to seep into Dean's being, slowly bringing him to realize that this wasn't going to turn out as bad as he had thought it could. Paul was freaked out, but he wasn't going to run away. This God is Nowhere thing didn't mean the bad things that Dean feared it would. He breathed a grateful sigh. "That's a good point. We should figure out what kind of spirits we're dealing with here. There are a few different kinds that can take on the form of a living person. Doppelganger, shape-shifter... maybe Tommy was possessed and really did visit Chad Goodwell in the flesh."
"I got the impression that no one else could see Tommy. That these visits were clandestine, and continued after Tommy died," Paul said.
"Oh. Hm. Then we just need to consider beings that can make themselves invisible to everyone but one person, and not a ghost. Something that can make itself look like anyone it wants. It would have to be something pretty adaptable, chameleon-like. It's actually too bad that Chad Goodwell is dead," Dean sighed. "It would be helpful to interrogate him."
"It wouldn't be helpful to have him running around trying to kill us," added Paul with a huff.
Dean looked at him. "Us?"
Paul almost cringed. "Uh... yeah."
"What do you mean, us?"
"Dean... my blood has spelled out both phrases. I'm also a God is Nowhere person," Paul confessed.
Glaring at him for a few moments, Dean asked, "When were you going to tell me this?"
"When I had the chance."
"Well." Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Guess that means there's only one left whose identity we need to discover."
"Yeah." Thinking it over, Paul also leaned forward, his elbow propped on one knee, hand under his chin. "Dean, can I ask you a really personal question?"
"Most likely." He looked over at Paul.
Paul let out a nervous sigh before launching into the story. "Keel and I trapped a demon once and questioned it. We had trapped it in a magick sign that forced it to tell the truth. The demon said that 'God is Nowhere' is a positive message because it refers to God being there for us when things are at their worst, when we are emotionally and spiritually nowhere."
"That's kinda corny."
Now it was Paul's turn to glare. "It's true, you know."
"Yeah, yeah. Finish your point."
Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Paul went on. "Anyway, all of the God is Nowhere people share a common link - they have all felt this sense of being nowhere. They have, or will, all attempt suicide sometime in their lives." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I have to know... have you ever attempted suicide? Because if you haven't, that means at some point, you will, and I just can't bear the thought - "
Dean's shoulder had stiffened under Paul's hand. He froze, staring at the floor. "Stop," he said, halting Paul's emotionally charged words. Dean didn't answer him for several agonizing moments as he tried to collect his thoughts. "Wow. This is not where I expected the conversation to go."
"Dean?" Paul's voice sounded desperate and weak.
"Paul... yes. Yes, I did try to kill myself."
On to Part 3