The Hunter and the Hunted: Part 5
Title: The Hunter and the Hunted
Part 5: Some Days It Don’t Come Hard
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Rated: R for M/M affection and bad language
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek
Spoilers: none
Warning: Slash
Word count: 4,781
Disclaimer: Dean and his family belong to Eric Kripke and Supernatural, and Alex belongs to Chris Carter and the X-Files. We own nothing. We are doing this for love and not money.
Author’s notes: Dean spent four years traveling with John, his father, and later on his own missions, while Sam, his brother, was at Stanford. We’ve bent time a little, and we are aware of that, but this is fiction. After Dean rescued Alex from the missile silo, the two of them hit it off.
The quoted song is “Anything For Love,” by Meat Loaf.
The beautiful icon is by myhappyface, for which much thanks.
Some days it don't come easy, and some days it don't come hard
Some days it don't come at all, and these are the days that never end
Some nights you're breathing fire, and some nights you're carved in ice
Some nights you're like nothing I've ever seen before or will again
Dean started the car, getting going once Alex was in position. "Get some more sleep; I'll wake you when we take a pit stop." He smiled to himself; his dad was gonna kill him, if he found out about this.
Laughing, Alex flipped Dean the bird as he settled himself in the car. "You think I'm gonna sleep with all those ghost stories to listen to?" Inwardly he was congratulating himself. The next few days, spent in Dean's company, promised to be not only arousing but interesting too.
"So tell me, oh Impala-wrangler, what do you think we're going to be doing, whenever we get wherever the hell we’re going?"
Busy maneuvering the Impala out onto the two-lane blacktop, Dean threw a glance towards his companion before looking out of the window again, "Ghost stories?" he gave a little laugh and a shake of his head. The stories he could tell were many, but Dean wasn’t going to be recounting them any time soon.
At least Alex hadn't called him Deano the way Sam had, back when he was a kid. If he’d done that, Dean would just have had to freak out. "What we'll be doing? The usual. Ask around. See what is going on. Look into a few things. Lie a little... A lot maybe. Once we find out what’s causing it... We end it." Dean ran through the list like it was something he did every day.
"That okay with you? Making your skirt blow up, or the hairs on the back of your neck itch?"
"Just like that! You end it?" Alex could hear the confidence in Dean's voice, could sense the competence with which Dean approached his job. It intrigued him, and he found himself wanting to know how it would feel, if he let Dean fuck him.
Laughing, Dean glanced sideways at Alex again. "Yeah, just like that. Man, wish I had some coffee," he murmured to himself as he reached over to turn on the radio.
"I reckon I can handle anything you can. I'm not exactly a shrinking girl, but I'm interested in just how you end a ghost. You're not a priest in disguise, are you? If you are, it's a pretty damned good disguise!"
"We can debate the shrinking girl thing later,” Dean said, with a smirk. “And, no, I'm not a priest. God, no!" Dean rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that he could be making the same mistake as he’d done with Cassie, but at least this guy wasn't slamming any doors in his face and yelling about how insane he was.
"There are different ways of killing ghosts. Depends on what kind of ghost it is. Most of them have patterns. They follow certain rules, you might say. Mostly, if it is a haunting, you find out who is doing it, then take a walk in the bone yard, dig 'em up and salt then burn the bones. Puts a spirit to rest. Frees them. Rock salt rounds will drive a spirit away, or at least have some kind of effect on them. As will rounds made with pure iron. Salt can also... protect you. Semi-circle around the doorway, and a little on the windows will keep spirits and demons out. So no just spilling the popcorn salt. That enough for you?"
Alex had definitely seen things that had opened him to extreme possibilities. He had no problems accepting what Dean was saying, but even so, he felt that it would be fun to taunt the handsome man sitting at his side.
"So you go round digging up bodies and setting them on fire? How come you haven't been arrested yet?" He smiled evilly. "Some people! Desecrating graves, tampering with human remains. I'm sure you'd be lynched, if the public became aware of that."
"I'm sure I would be, but as long as I don't get caught, I’m good. Besides, cops are lazy. You ever see the night time cops? They’d much rather sit in their cars than get out there preventing crime. Besides, who patrols cemeteries these days?" Dean tilted his head towards Alex, then back to the windshield, adding, "Most people don't report infringements, because I help them. And it's not like we leave an open grave. They do get covered back up."
“Wow! I’m glad to hear that,” chuckled Alex. “Wouldn’t want them to get cold or anything like that.” He turned in his seat, facing Dean, studying the man as the Impala ate up the blacktop. He already knew that Dean was hot, but he hadn’t really taken in the sheer competence, the ease and grace of his movements and the confident - not to say cocky - attitude. In so many ways, Dean reminded Alex of himself.
“So tell me about yourself, Dean. Who are you really? Where did you come from, and how did you ever find yourself ghost hunting? It’s not what I’d called a mainstream occupation.”
"You sure you want to know?" Dean asked, reaching down between Alex's legs to grab a cassette from his box of tapes, thinking how much he hated what was playing on the radio. Somehow he seemed to be beset by country music these days, and that just didn’t do it for him. "Okay, how about we trade. I tell you something about me, and you tell me something equal to it. You don't agree, I'll just be known as the hot guy who drug your ass to Michigan."
He smirked at Alex. "I was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Your turn."
“Okay, fair’s fair.” Alex nodded. Dean was fascinating, and he’d play the game with him for a little while at least. His body tingled as he recalled their bout from the night before. Yes, definitely, he would play with Dean for the time being.
“Hmmm, let me see… I was born in Flushing Meadows, Queens - my parents were fugitives from the cold war. Your turn.”
"Whoa, cold war huh?" Dean pulled into a MacDonald's. He had to have some coffee, "You want anything?" he asked as he waited in line at the drive-thru. "My mom died when I was four. Fire in the house. I had to carry my little brother out the front door, while my dad tried to save her." Dean got a slightly distant look upon his face. "I was supposed to play tee-ball the next day."
Dean ordered one of the meals, biscuit and coffee - a large one. He placed Alex's order and then drove around and reached for his wallet to pull out some cash.
“Thanks.” Alex accepted his own coffee and the breakfast sandwich he’d requested. “I was a little older than you - I was ten. Me and my little sister were left orphaned when mom and dad were assassinated. I never did find out which organization did it. It might even have been the CIA, but anyway, they were gone, and we were suddenly stuck with people we didn’t know to take care of us.” He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded appreciatively. “I think I’ve still got hollow legs after being stuck in that hell hole for I don’t know how long.”
That was something they had in common to a degree. Dean had lost one parent, but for Alex it had been both. Dean didn't know what would have happened, if his dad had died too. He probably wouldn't have known Sam at all. They'd have been separated for life.
"I'm sure it took a lot out of ya," Dean answered. "Do you still talk to your sister?" He stole another peep at Alex as he took a bite of his sandwich, driving with his knee.
"Haven't seen her since I was twelve," confessed Alex, his mouth full of his own sandwich. "Sometimes I wonder what happened to her, but I think she's probably better off away from me." He gave Dean a crooked smile. "Okay, your turn."
Dean finished off his biscuit, so he could put his other hand back on the wheel. He could never have imagined being away from Sam, right up ‘til the day when Sam had walked out of the door and gone off to college. Sam had always been there. Always around. It had been his job to keep his little brother safe.
"My father was the one who taught me about hunting supernatural things. The man is a genius when it comes to that." Dean stared out the window for a long moment, "Brother went off to college. Stanford," he blinked from his distant gaze to look toward Alex, "Wants to be a lawyer or something. Book smarts, that's him."
There was pain in Dean's eyes; Alex could see it plainly. He nodded to himself. There was something about the brother that had wounded his companion. He'd find out what it was - later - because it might just be useful. For now, however, he merely nodded.
"The short story is, I joined the LAPD, after I got my degree, and then went into the FBI. I was partnered with Mulder - told to spy on him and report his activities back to the higher ups. He found out, and I left."
"Guess that put a damper on your relationship then. Pisser." Dean took a sip of his coffee then sat the cup between his legs. "I've hunted a lot of things people can't explain. Things that go bump in the night. Got my first knife when I was five. First gun at eight."
Dean smirked suddenly, quirking his eyebrow at Alex, "So, this Mulder? You ever give him a blow job while he was driving. Because I somehow get the feeling he never let you drive."
"Fucking control freak," growled Alex, remembering Mulder's habits. "I drove once in a while, but you're right, most of the time I sat around reciting DOT stats to keep the idiot awake. He never got enough sleep."
He eyed Dean speculatively. "Why? You angling for a blow job? Not while you're driving, man. I hate it when people run me off the road. You want a blow job, pull over."
"Ouch," Dean made a face. In a way, he knew about control freaks. That description fit his father completely, always demanding perfection. Dean hadn't gotten to drive much when with his father, right up ‘til Dad the day had given him the car. Now he’d got his own vehicle, because he was now doing his own gigs.
"Sleep is important. Keeps you healthy and sharp. Though I have gone a long time without it, always made up for it." He glanced over, pondering the rest. That look of his companion’s was not as effective on him as the puppy-dog eye look, but it did give him pause.
Dean studied the road, wondered how much traffic was using it, before he pulled over. He turned the car off and placed his coffee on the dash. Turning to Alex he raised his eyebrows. "Question, was the guy just a good fuck, or was there another reason you hooked up with him?"
Now what were the implications of this sudden line of questioning, thought Alex, filing the question away for future analysis. Was the kid jealous of his ex? Let's see, he thought. "I wish I could show you a photo of him. When I was sent to be his partner, I just thought it was a short term gig - make friends with him, report back on what he was doing and then get transferred out to a real job. He was a total asshole too, and I was completely sideswiped by the fact that I suddenly couldn't keep my hands off him. We had a really torrid love affair that ended when I was outed as a spy for a faction of the government he hated. Since then, he's been kind of angry with me."
He chuckled to himself, wondering whether he should tell Dean what he'd done to finally earn Mulder's hatred and deciding that it would keep for now. "You know, I'm over him... and I give incredible blow jobs."
Dean turned back to the steering wheel. "I wouldn't know about love." He started the car back up, suddenly no longer wanting to fool around as that sick feeling welled up again. He certainly did know about being dumped. He was making little faces, staring blindly out of the window. "I'm sure you do." He put the car in drive, regretting he’d asked the question and wondering why the hell he had. Fuck, but he hated giving himself away like that!
"Love's over-rated. What is it but hormones, honestly?" Alex looked disappointed, but didn't say anything as they set off again. There would be time enough for blow jobs later, if they were going to go ghost wrangling. "It turns to hate really fast, and I think it's such a waste of honest emotion. Give me uncomplicated lust and a good buddy any day."
He stretched, leaning back in the seat and putting his hands behind his head so that his T-shirt stretched out over his torso. "I like you, Dean. You give me good vibes, man."
Dean didn't say anything to those words, he merely nodded, but deep inside, Dean had hungered for that kind of connection. From his father. From his brother. Neither had ever really come through for him, because his father was obsessed with this demon hunting, and his brother wanted a normal life, a safe life. Sam had left him, and Dean feared that, without Sam around, it was only a matter of time before his dad would as well.
He was convinced that it would come eventually with this man as well.
"Good vibes?" He didn't look up, but he could see Alex in his peripheral vision, catching the stretch and the reveal of skin just at the hem of his shirt. "Dude, what makes you say that?"
"Hey, I don't know - the way you keep your guns, the way you went straight into that place this morning, knowing that there was something in there that could do what it did to me, your whole attitude, man. You're hot, and not just in a sexual way." Alex studied Dean, wanting to run his tongue over the scattering of freckles on his cheeks. "Some people are just more alive than others, and I don't quite know how to explain it. You're one of those."
He laughed, wondering if he was coming on too strong, but damn, Dean's self esteem was in need of serious work, and while Alex didn't intend to marry the younger man or anything like that, he could see how intriguing it might be to work on Dean a little, try and strengthen his self regard. Besides, like he had just said, Dean was hot.
“Hot," Dean gave a chuckle and a snort while shaking his head. "Someone has a one track mind. Yeah, I'm alive alright. Just one big bundle of energy bouncing into danger without a second thought. Wanna know the truth? I was scared as all hell going in there. Possessions are not pretty, but a demon or whatever can easily possess you, if you let it. Mostly by showing fear. Nervousness. It's like opening a window. Makes it easier for them, so I can't let that show." He gave a shrug of his shoulders as if it was nothing.
"So how about some music then?" Alex said at last, breaking the silence that followed. "Got anything good?"
"Hand me that box between your legs under the seat. Got my tapes in it. And since I'm the driver, I get to pick, and shotgun shuts his pie hole," Dean grinned.
"Oh, getting toppy now, are we?" laughed Alex, digging under the seat for the box Dean had requested. He peered into it, looking through the contents with a smirk on his face. "Holy cow, are there moths in here? Looks like there's cobwebs, anyway."
Passing the box over to Dean with a smirk, he waited to see what his companion would choose. "You've still got your head stuck in the seventies, man. Hell, I bet you weren't even born when some of those tracks were recorded."
Dean reached in the box, pulling tapes out, until he found his favorite Metallica one. He dropped it in to the player and began tapping the wheel with his thumbs as the music began. "Nothing wrong with my collection. Better than the crap they have out now. Though Britney Spears isn't bad as long as the sound is off," he smirked.
Dean turned up the volume and began singing along as he grinned at Alex.
The drive continued. It was a while before Dean had to pull over to get some gas and stretch his legs. He climbed out, arching his back then bent over to stretch his legs. It was late in the evening, with the sun starting to set. "You wanna get us something to eat?" he asked, motioning towards the truck stop, while he walked around to fill up.
Dean had leaned against the back of his car, watching Alex as he walked inside. Damn but the man had this walk, and the way his ass moved was something Dean approved of, wholeheartedly. He found he wouldn't mind being behind that, and he had to admit, the man had a great mouth, kissed very well, and he gave a good fuck. Dean hadn't been fucked like that in a while.
He sighed, thinking about his family. He missed them. Missed his dad, being around him, watching him work, watching the way he put things together, the way he knew what to do. Then there was Sam, his brother. Little Sammy. He’d always been around and under foot, until he’d started getting older and more independent. Things had gone south from there, but they’d remained close, still together, right up until the day that Sam had left.
The truck stop had donuts and sandwiches, but nothing that looked particularly appetizing. Alex poked around looking for something more substantial, finding only plastic sandwiches and the kind of prepackaged burgers that one nuked in the microwave, viewing them with disgust. In the end he went with the burgers, grabbing a couple, adding cheese and ham sandwiches and a packet of chips to his purchases, and, by now having found out Dean's weakness, adding a couple of large coffees as well.
By the time he got back outside, Dean had finished filling the car and was removing the bug splatter of three counties from his windshield. "Here. They didn't actually have any food, but I got some empty calories for us."
Dean had pulled his phone out, going through the numbers he had stored, until he reached Sam's at Stanford. He’d stared at it for a long time, ‘til he heard the thunk of the pump, telling him the car was full, then sighed and shoved the phone back into his pocket, taking the nozzle out and placing it back into the pump. He looked up as Alex came out. "Great," he commented, because he was used to food that contained no known nourishment. “Empty calories don’t scare me.”
Getting into the car, he smiled as he saw the coffee. "I think I'm in love," he said, smiling up at Alex, who was juggling his purchases as he clambered in himself.
"Damned straight!" Alex gave him a wicked grin as he sat back down beside Dean. "We need to stop for real food at some stage. I can't be held responsible for my moods, if I have to eat plastic burgers for the next week or so." He unwrapped one of the offending delicacies and sniffed it. "I wonder how many toxins and preservatives this thing contains."
Dean had pulled the car away from the pump to a parking area so they could eat. With the car in park, he was devouring his food. He turned to Alex, pondering his last few words. Alex had said a week or so. Did that mean the man planning on sticking around longer? That was interesting. "I try not to think about it."
Eating quickly and tidily, Alex watched Dean work his way through his own food. "I can't help noticing that you seem to have a bunch of things on your mind. Something I can help with?"
"Hmm?" Dean acted like he didn't understand. "Just thinking about the job. What other things could be causing those ships to crash? Could be just the weather, but who knows?" Yes he was avoiding the question. This man wasn't Sam, who could have just given him that look and pulled the whole story out of him - making him admit things he might never have intended to be known, although he had to admit that even with Sam, Dean found sharing confidences a struggle.
"You ever miss your sister? Talk to her. Try and contact her?" The question was out of the blue and Dean hoped it would divert the attention away from him.
"I did for the longest time." Alex scowled at the trees beside the parked Impala as he recalled the sister he hadn't seen for so many years. "She was a cute kid, and I missed her like I'd miss a limb or something, but with the way things fell out she's better off away from me. I do sometimes still think about her and wonder how she's doing, if she's married, with a family of her own, but I'm probably better not knowing."
Alex stole a sideways glance at Dean, wondering how much to tell him, how much he would believe. Almost, he could imagine recruiting Dean to help him fuck up Spender's plans.... almost. He remembered Irina, his little sister, and his last sight of her and her friend, Samantha Mulder. Best to believe he no longer had a sister.
He sighed. Better to stay silent until... Until what he had no idea. Dean would be fun to be with, and that was enough for the time being. "How about you? You said you had a brother? Older? Younger? He still around?"
"Brother," Dean nodded then sighed, "Younger brother." Dean stared out the window, "Alive, yes, around, no. Like I said before, he, umm, went off to college, he wants to be a lawyer, or something like that." Dean took a bite of his food. "Dad still checks on him though."
Dean glanced to Alex, "How come you don't talk to her, if you miss her. I mean doing what you do, why stay away from family? Family is important. It’s all you will have left if... if everything falls apart."
"Dean, honey, everything fell apart for me years ago." Alex was smirking as he spoke, sure that Dean would have no clue just how dreadfully things could disintegrate. "Things started to go wrong for me when I was just a kid, and... anyway, I don't have a family. It's better that way."
He studied Dean, who was staring ahead impassively. "Anyway, if families are so important, how come you don't go visit the brother once in a while?"
Dean took a drink of his coffee, but almost choked upon it when Alex asked his question. "I..." He tried to sound macho, as if he didn't care, but failed miserably. He tried again, "He..." Dean stared at Alex then sighed, "He asked me to stay away. And if I call, he won't answer."
Dean shook his head, "Things are... not rosy in my family. I know our dad loves us. I know Sam..." Dean stopped. "We still care for each other. Can we talk about something else?"
"Oh, yeah, for sure." Alex crumpled the sandwich papers and stuffed them into a plastic shopping bag along with the rest of the debris from their makeshift meal. "What do you want to talk about?" He grabbed his own coffee and drank, sighing as the caffeine took effect. "Hit me with your best shot."
Dean shook his head as he turned back, "I don't know what to ask. I've, never been really much of a talker. That was Sam. And..." Dean glanced at him, considering, then quickly surged in and kissed him. He pulled back slowly, "Okay, so I lied about not being much of a talker." He grinned then sat back. "Ever have a girlfriend? Was she sexy?" He started the car back up again in preparation for hitting the road.
"Girlfriends are always sexy," smirked Alex, touching his lips with one slim forefinger, then reaching to caress Dean's lower lip with the same digit. "But I can't say that they really do that much for me. There was one - she was blonde and capable, and we were going to rule the world together. Can't say that I've seen her lately though. She's working for the World Trade Organization now, being important and way above my touch. I like to think that she missed a splendid opportunity when she walked away from me."
Dean wanted to lick that finger but he didn't, just stared at Alex’s handsome face. He gave a rueful chuckle. "Rule the world? That never works out. And she probably did miss out. Good looking guys like us have to stick together; it’s a fact!" He smirked as he put the car in gear.
Giving Alex a half smile, Dean grabbed his finger quickly as he was taking it away, pulling it to his mouth to suck on before releasing it with a smile. "Val, how did you get tangled up in all of that? Why would you want to take over the world?"
"You're right about us sticking together." Alex nodded, his eyes bright as he stared into the past. "Rita was one of those girls, you know? She wanted everything, and I thought I could give it to her and still have something left for myself, you know?" He sighed. "I told you that I was working for a government department that wanted to monitor what Mulder was doing, didn't I?" At Dean's nod, he continued. "Well, once Mulder fingered me, I was no longer any use to them, and they tried to rub me out. All of a sudden I was on my own, fending for myself, and that's when Rita decided that I wasn't a good prospect any longer." He laughed, but his laughter held more scorn than amusement. "She wasn't wrong, that's for sure."
"Ahh, yeah, the greedy type." Dean took another sip of his coffee. "Those women suck you dry, til there is no life left in you, then they toss you aside. Why I don't get close." He answered.
He glanced to Alex then frowned as he turned back, "You know, money, power, it's not everything. You show your worth by what you do, not by what you have. I mean, look at me. Driving around in a 67 Impala. Tracking down the supernatural. Trunk full of weird ass stuff. Living in motels and restaurants. Think that’s a good prospect? No, but you know what? I don't give a damn. Because I know what I'm doing is right."
"Best not to get close," agreed Alex. "Let's agree that there's no future in it." He gave Dean a wide grin and indicated the Impala. "Besides, there's only room for one great love in your life, and if I had this car, I think I'd be content. It's quite the car, and you've obviously put a lot of work into it."
He nodded and patted the dash. "You should get yourself a decent stereo though. Some of your tapes are wearing out, and Metallica deserves better."
Dean wasn't going to mention that the car had been his dad's, given to him when dad got his truck. It wasn't a new truck, but still... Dad seemed to have a thing for the classics, and he seemed to like living in the past, dwelling on the time before he and Sam had been born, back when he first met mom.
"Yeah, well, kind of have to. It takes a beating at times, and I gotta have a car that looks as good as me." He smiled. "But there is nothing wrong with the stereo. My tapes play fine. The car deserves its original stereo."
Part 5: Some Days It Don’t Come Hard
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Rated: R for M/M affection and bad language
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek
Spoilers: none
Warning: Slash
Word count: 4,781
Disclaimer: Dean and his family belong to Eric Kripke and Supernatural, and Alex belongs to Chris Carter and the X-Files. We own nothing. We are doing this for love and not money.
Author’s notes: Dean spent four years traveling with John, his father, and later on his own missions, while Sam, his brother, was at Stanford. We’ve bent time a little, and we are aware of that, but this is fiction. After Dean rescued Alex from the missile silo, the two of them hit it off.
The quoted song is “Anything For Love,” by Meat Loaf.
The beautiful icon is by myhappyface, for which much thanks.
Some days it don't come easy, and some days it don't come hard
Some days it don't come at all, and these are the days that never end
Some nights you're breathing fire, and some nights you're carved in ice
Some nights you're like nothing I've ever seen before or will again
Dean started the car, getting going once Alex was in position. "Get some more sleep; I'll wake you when we take a pit stop." He smiled to himself; his dad was gonna kill him, if he found out about this.
Laughing, Alex flipped Dean the bird as he settled himself in the car. "You think I'm gonna sleep with all those ghost stories to listen to?" Inwardly he was congratulating himself. The next few days, spent in Dean's company, promised to be not only arousing but interesting too.
"So tell me, oh Impala-wrangler, what do you think we're going to be doing, whenever we get wherever the hell we’re going?"
Busy maneuvering the Impala out onto the two-lane blacktop, Dean threw a glance towards his companion before looking out of the window again, "Ghost stories?" he gave a little laugh and a shake of his head. The stories he could tell were many, but Dean wasn’t going to be recounting them any time soon.
At least Alex hadn't called him Deano the way Sam had, back when he was a kid. If he’d done that, Dean would just have had to freak out. "What we'll be doing? The usual. Ask around. See what is going on. Look into a few things. Lie a little... A lot maybe. Once we find out what’s causing it... We end it." Dean ran through the list like it was something he did every day.
"That okay with you? Making your skirt blow up, or the hairs on the back of your neck itch?"
"Just like that! You end it?" Alex could hear the confidence in Dean's voice, could sense the competence with which Dean approached his job. It intrigued him, and he found himself wanting to know how it would feel, if he let Dean fuck him.
Laughing, Dean glanced sideways at Alex again. "Yeah, just like that. Man, wish I had some coffee," he murmured to himself as he reached over to turn on the radio.
"I reckon I can handle anything you can. I'm not exactly a shrinking girl, but I'm interested in just how you end a ghost. You're not a priest in disguise, are you? If you are, it's a pretty damned good disguise!"
"We can debate the shrinking girl thing later,” Dean said, with a smirk. “And, no, I'm not a priest. God, no!" Dean rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that he could be making the same mistake as he’d done with Cassie, but at least this guy wasn't slamming any doors in his face and yelling about how insane he was.
"There are different ways of killing ghosts. Depends on what kind of ghost it is. Most of them have patterns. They follow certain rules, you might say. Mostly, if it is a haunting, you find out who is doing it, then take a walk in the bone yard, dig 'em up and salt then burn the bones. Puts a spirit to rest. Frees them. Rock salt rounds will drive a spirit away, or at least have some kind of effect on them. As will rounds made with pure iron. Salt can also... protect you. Semi-circle around the doorway, and a little on the windows will keep spirits and demons out. So no just spilling the popcorn salt. That enough for you?"
Alex had definitely seen things that had opened him to extreme possibilities. He had no problems accepting what Dean was saying, but even so, he felt that it would be fun to taunt the handsome man sitting at his side.
"So you go round digging up bodies and setting them on fire? How come you haven't been arrested yet?" He smiled evilly. "Some people! Desecrating graves, tampering with human remains. I'm sure you'd be lynched, if the public became aware of that."
"I'm sure I would be, but as long as I don't get caught, I’m good. Besides, cops are lazy. You ever see the night time cops? They’d much rather sit in their cars than get out there preventing crime. Besides, who patrols cemeteries these days?" Dean tilted his head towards Alex, then back to the windshield, adding, "Most people don't report infringements, because I help them. And it's not like we leave an open grave. They do get covered back up."
“Wow! I’m glad to hear that,” chuckled Alex. “Wouldn’t want them to get cold or anything like that.” He turned in his seat, facing Dean, studying the man as the Impala ate up the blacktop. He already knew that Dean was hot, but he hadn’t really taken in the sheer competence, the ease and grace of his movements and the confident - not to say cocky - attitude. In so many ways, Dean reminded Alex of himself.
“So tell me about yourself, Dean. Who are you really? Where did you come from, and how did you ever find yourself ghost hunting? It’s not what I’d called a mainstream occupation.”
"You sure you want to know?" Dean asked, reaching down between Alex's legs to grab a cassette from his box of tapes, thinking how much he hated what was playing on the radio. Somehow he seemed to be beset by country music these days, and that just didn’t do it for him. "Okay, how about we trade. I tell you something about me, and you tell me something equal to it. You don't agree, I'll just be known as the hot guy who drug your ass to Michigan."
He smirked at Alex. "I was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Your turn."
“Okay, fair’s fair.” Alex nodded. Dean was fascinating, and he’d play the game with him for a little while at least. His body tingled as he recalled their bout from the night before. Yes, definitely, he would play with Dean for the time being.
“Hmmm, let me see… I was born in Flushing Meadows, Queens - my parents were fugitives from the cold war. Your turn.”
"Whoa, cold war huh?" Dean pulled into a MacDonald's. He had to have some coffee, "You want anything?" he asked as he waited in line at the drive-thru. "My mom died when I was four. Fire in the house. I had to carry my little brother out the front door, while my dad tried to save her." Dean got a slightly distant look upon his face. "I was supposed to play tee-ball the next day."
Dean ordered one of the meals, biscuit and coffee - a large one. He placed Alex's order and then drove around and reached for his wallet to pull out some cash.
“Thanks.” Alex accepted his own coffee and the breakfast sandwich he’d requested. “I was a little older than you - I was ten. Me and my little sister were left orphaned when mom and dad were assassinated. I never did find out which organization did it. It might even have been the CIA, but anyway, they were gone, and we were suddenly stuck with people we didn’t know to take care of us.” He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded appreciatively. “I think I’ve still got hollow legs after being stuck in that hell hole for I don’t know how long.”
That was something they had in common to a degree. Dean had lost one parent, but for Alex it had been both. Dean didn't know what would have happened, if his dad had died too. He probably wouldn't have known Sam at all. They'd have been separated for life.
"I'm sure it took a lot out of ya," Dean answered. "Do you still talk to your sister?" He stole another peep at Alex as he took a bite of his sandwich, driving with his knee.
"Haven't seen her since I was twelve," confessed Alex, his mouth full of his own sandwich. "Sometimes I wonder what happened to her, but I think she's probably better off away from me." He gave Dean a crooked smile. "Okay, your turn."
Dean finished off his biscuit, so he could put his other hand back on the wheel. He could never have imagined being away from Sam, right up ‘til the day when Sam had walked out of the door and gone off to college. Sam had always been there. Always around. It had been his job to keep his little brother safe.
"My father was the one who taught me about hunting supernatural things. The man is a genius when it comes to that." Dean stared out the window for a long moment, "Brother went off to college. Stanford," he blinked from his distant gaze to look toward Alex, "Wants to be a lawyer or something. Book smarts, that's him."
There was pain in Dean's eyes; Alex could see it plainly. He nodded to himself. There was something about the brother that had wounded his companion. He'd find out what it was - later - because it might just be useful. For now, however, he merely nodded.
"The short story is, I joined the LAPD, after I got my degree, and then went into the FBI. I was partnered with Mulder - told to spy on him and report his activities back to the higher ups. He found out, and I left."
"Guess that put a damper on your relationship then. Pisser." Dean took a sip of his coffee then sat the cup between his legs. "I've hunted a lot of things people can't explain. Things that go bump in the night. Got my first knife when I was five. First gun at eight."
Dean smirked suddenly, quirking his eyebrow at Alex, "So, this Mulder? You ever give him a blow job while he was driving. Because I somehow get the feeling he never let you drive."
"Fucking control freak," growled Alex, remembering Mulder's habits. "I drove once in a while, but you're right, most of the time I sat around reciting DOT stats to keep the idiot awake. He never got enough sleep."
He eyed Dean speculatively. "Why? You angling for a blow job? Not while you're driving, man. I hate it when people run me off the road. You want a blow job, pull over."
"Ouch," Dean made a face. In a way, he knew about control freaks. That description fit his father completely, always demanding perfection. Dean hadn't gotten to drive much when with his father, right up ‘til Dad the day had given him the car. Now he’d got his own vehicle, because he was now doing his own gigs.
"Sleep is important. Keeps you healthy and sharp. Though I have gone a long time without it, always made up for it." He glanced over, pondering the rest. That look of his companion’s was not as effective on him as the puppy-dog eye look, but it did give him pause.
Dean studied the road, wondered how much traffic was using it, before he pulled over. He turned the car off and placed his coffee on the dash. Turning to Alex he raised his eyebrows. "Question, was the guy just a good fuck, or was there another reason you hooked up with him?"
Now what were the implications of this sudden line of questioning, thought Alex, filing the question away for future analysis. Was the kid jealous of his ex? Let's see, he thought. "I wish I could show you a photo of him. When I was sent to be his partner, I just thought it was a short term gig - make friends with him, report back on what he was doing and then get transferred out to a real job. He was a total asshole too, and I was completely sideswiped by the fact that I suddenly couldn't keep my hands off him. We had a really torrid love affair that ended when I was outed as a spy for a faction of the government he hated. Since then, he's been kind of angry with me."
He chuckled to himself, wondering whether he should tell Dean what he'd done to finally earn Mulder's hatred and deciding that it would keep for now. "You know, I'm over him... and I give incredible blow jobs."
Dean turned back to the steering wheel. "I wouldn't know about love." He started the car back up, suddenly no longer wanting to fool around as that sick feeling welled up again. He certainly did know about being dumped. He was making little faces, staring blindly out of the window. "I'm sure you do." He put the car in drive, regretting he’d asked the question and wondering why the hell he had. Fuck, but he hated giving himself away like that!
"Love's over-rated. What is it but hormones, honestly?" Alex looked disappointed, but didn't say anything as they set off again. There would be time enough for blow jobs later, if they were going to go ghost wrangling. "It turns to hate really fast, and I think it's such a waste of honest emotion. Give me uncomplicated lust and a good buddy any day."
He stretched, leaning back in the seat and putting his hands behind his head so that his T-shirt stretched out over his torso. "I like you, Dean. You give me good vibes, man."
Dean didn't say anything to those words, he merely nodded, but deep inside, Dean had hungered for that kind of connection. From his father. From his brother. Neither had ever really come through for him, because his father was obsessed with this demon hunting, and his brother wanted a normal life, a safe life. Sam had left him, and Dean feared that, without Sam around, it was only a matter of time before his dad would as well.
He was convinced that it would come eventually with this man as well.
"Good vibes?" He didn't look up, but he could see Alex in his peripheral vision, catching the stretch and the reveal of skin just at the hem of his shirt. "Dude, what makes you say that?"
"Hey, I don't know - the way you keep your guns, the way you went straight into that place this morning, knowing that there was something in there that could do what it did to me, your whole attitude, man. You're hot, and not just in a sexual way." Alex studied Dean, wanting to run his tongue over the scattering of freckles on his cheeks. "Some people are just more alive than others, and I don't quite know how to explain it. You're one of those."
He laughed, wondering if he was coming on too strong, but damn, Dean's self esteem was in need of serious work, and while Alex didn't intend to marry the younger man or anything like that, he could see how intriguing it might be to work on Dean a little, try and strengthen his self regard. Besides, like he had just said, Dean was hot.
“Hot," Dean gave a chuckle and a snort while shaking his head. "Someone has a one track mind. Yeah, I'm alive alright. Just one big bundle of energy bouncing into danger without a second thought. Wanna know the truth? I was scared as all hell going in there. Possessions are not pretty, but a demon or whatever can easily possess you, if you let it. Mostly by showing fear. Nervousness. It's like opening a window. Makes it easier for them, so I can't let that show." He gave a shrug of his shoulders as if it was nothing.
"So how about some music then?" Alex said at last, breaking the silence that followed. "Got anything good?"
"Hand me that box between your legs under the seat. Got my tapes in it. And since I'm the driver, I get to pick, and shotgun shuts his pie hole," Dean grinned.
"Oh, getting toppy now, are we?" laughed Alex, digging under the seat for the box Dean had requested. He peered into it, looking through the contents with a smirk on his face. "Holy cow, are there moths in here? Looks like there's cobwebs, anyway."
Passing the box over to Dean with a smirk, he waited to see what his companion would choose. "You've still got your head stuck in the seventies, man. Hell, I bet you weren't even born when some of those tracks were recorded."
Dean reached in the box, pulling tapes out, until he found his favorite Metallica one. He dropped it in to the player and began tapping the wheel with his thumbs as the music began. "Nothing wrong with my collection. Better than the crap they have out now. Though Britney Spears isn't bad as long as the sound is off," he smirked.
Dean turned up the volume and began singing along as he grinned at Alex.
The drive continued. It was a while before Dean had to pull over to get some gas and stretch his legs. He climbed out, arching his back then bent over to stretch his legs. It was late in the evening, with the sun starting to set. "You wanna get us something to eat?" he asked, motioning towards the truck stop, while he walked around to fill up.
Dean had leaned against the back of his car, watching Alex as he walked inside. Damn but the man had this walk, and the way his ass moved was something Dean approved of, wholeheartedly. He found he wouldn't mind being behind that, and he had to admit, the man had a great mouth, kissed very well, and he gave a good fuck. Dean hadn't been fucked like that in a while.
He sighed, thinking about his family. He missed them. Missed his dad, being around him, watching him work, watching the way he put things together, the way he knew what to do. Then there was Sam, his brother. Little Sammy. He’d always been around and under foot, until he’d started getting older and more independent. Things had gone south from there, but they’d remained close, still together, right up until the day that Sam had left.
The truck stop had donuts and sandwiches, but nothing that looked particularly appetizing. Alex poked around looking for something more substantial, finding only plastic sandwiches and the kind of prepackaged burgers that one nuked in the microwave, viewing them with disgust. In the end he went with the burgers, grabbing a couple, adding cheese and ham sandwiches and a packet of chips to his purchases, and, by now having found out Dean's weakness, adding a couple of large coffees as well.
By the time he got back outside, Dean had finished filling the car and was removing the bug splatter of three counties from his windshield. "Here. They didn't actually have any food, but I got some empty calories for us."
Dean had pulled his phone out, going through the numbers he had stored, until he reached Sam's at Stanford. He’d stared at it for a long time, ‘til he heard the thunk of the pump, telling him the car was full, then sighed and shoved the phone back into his pocket, taking the nozzle out and placing it back into the pump. He looked up as Alex came out. "Great," he commented, because he was used to food that contained no known nourishment. “Empty calories don’t scare me.”
Getting into the car, he smiled as he saw the coffee. "I think I'm in love," he said, smiling up at Alex, who was juggling his purchases as he clambered in himself.
"Damned straight!" Alex gave him a wicked grin as he sat back down beside Dean. "We need to stop for real food at some stage. I can't be held responsible for my moods, if I have to eat plastic burgers for the next week or so." He unwrapped one of the offending delicacies and sniffed it. "I wonder how many toxins and preservatives this thing contains."
Dean had pulled the car away from the pump to a parking area so they could eat. With the car in park, he was devouring his food. He turned to Alex, pondering his last few words. Alex had said a week or so. Did that mean the man planning on sticking around longer? That was interesting. "I try not to think about it."
Eating quickly and tidily, Alex watched Dean work his way through his own food. "I can't help noticing that you seem to have a bunch of things on your mind. Something I can help with?"
"Hmm?" Dean acted like he didn't understand. "Just thinking about the job. What other things could be causing those ships to crash? Could be just the weather, but who knows?" Yes he was avoiding the question. This man wasn't Sam, who could have just given him that look and pulled the whole story out of him - making him admit things he might never have intended to be known, although he had to admit that even with Sam, Dean found sharing confidences a struggle.
"You ever miss your sister? Talk to her. Try and contact her?" The question was out of the blue and Dean hoped it would divert the attention away from him.
"I did for the longest time." Alex scowled at the trees beside the parked Impala as he recalled the sister he hadn't seen for so many years. "She was a cute kid, and I missed her like I'd miss a limb or something, but with the way things fell out she's better off away from me. I do sometimes still think about her and wonder how she's doing, if she's married, with a family of her own, but I'm probably better not knowing."
Alex stole a sideways glance at Dean, wondering how much to tell him, how much he would believe. Almost, he could imagine recruiting Dean to help him fuck up Spender's plans.... almost. He remembered Irina, his little sister, and his last sight of her and her friend, Samantha Mulder. Best to believe he no longer had a sister.
He sighed. Better to stay silent until... Until what he had no idea. Dean would be fun to be with, and that was enough for the time being. "How about you? You said you had a brother? Older? Younger? He still around?"
"Brother," Dean nodded then sighed, "Younger brother." Dean stared out the window, "Alive, yes, around, no. Like I said before, he, umm, went off to college, he wants to be a lawyer, or something like that." Dean took a bite of his food. "Dad still checks on him though."
Dean glanced to Alex, "How come you don't talk to her, if you miss her. I mean doing what you do, why stay away from family? Family is important. It’s all you will have left if... if everything falls apart."
"Dean, honey, everything fell apart for me years ago." Alex was smirking as he spoke, sure that Dean would have no clue just how dreadfully things could disintegrate. "Things started to go wrong for me when I was just a kid, and... anyway, I don't have a family. It's better that way."
He studied Dean, who was staring ahead impassively. "Anyway, if families are so important, how come you don't go visit the brother once in a while?"
Dean took a drink of his coffee, but almost choked upon it when Alex asked his question. "I..." He tried to sound macho, as if he didn't care, but failed miserably. He tried again, "He..." Dean stared at Alex then sighed, "He asked me to stay away. And if I call, he won't answer."
Dean shook his head, "Things are... not rosy in my family. I know our dad loves us. I know Sam..." Dean stopped. "We still care for each other. Can we talk about something else?"
"Oh, yeah, for sure." Alex crumpled the sandwich papers and stuffed them into a plastic shopping bag along with the rest of the debris from their makeshift meal. "What do you want to talk about?" He grabbed his own coffee and drank, sighing as the caffeine took effect. "Hit me with your best shot."
Dean shook his head as he turned back, "I don't know what to ask. I've, never been really much of a talker. That was Sam. And..." Dean glanced at him, considering, then quickly surged in and kissed him. He pulled back slowly, "Okay, so I lied about not being much of a talker." He grinned then sat back. "Ever have a girlfriend? Was she sexy?" He started the car back up again in preparation for hitting the road.
"Girlfriends are always sexy," smirked Alex, touching his lips with one slim forefinger, then reaching to caress Dean's lower lip with the same digit. "But I can't say that they really do that much for me. There was one - she was blonde and capable, and we were going to rule the world together. Can't say that I've seen her lately though. She's working for the World Trade Organization now, being important and way above my touch. I like to think that she missed a splendid opportunity when she walked away from me."
Dean wanted to lick that finger but he didn't, just stared at Alex’s handsome face. He gave a rueful chuckle. "Rule the world? That never works out. And she probably did miss out. Good looking guys like us have to stick together; it’s a fact!" He smirked as he put the car in gear.
Giving Alex a half smile, Dean grabbed his finger quickly as he was taking it away, pulling it to his mouth to suck on before releasing it with a smile. "Val, how did you get tangled up in all of that? Why would you want to take over the world?"
"You're right about us sticking together." Alex nodded, his eyes bright as he stared into the past. "Rita was one of those girls, you know? She wanted everything, and I thought I could give it to her and still have something left for myself, you know?" He sighed. "I told you that I was working for a government department that wanted to monitor what Mulder was doing, didn't I?" At Dean's nod, he continued. "Well, once Mulder fingered me, I was no longer any use to them, and they tried to rub me out. All of a sudden I was on my own, fending for myself, and that's when Rita decided that I wasn't a good prospect any longer." He laughed, but his laughter held more scorn than amusement. "She wasn't wrong, that's for sure."
"Ahh, yeah, the greedy type." Dean took another sip of his coffee. "Those women suck you dry, til there is no life left in you, then they toss you aside. Why I don't get close." He answered.
He glanced to Alex then frowned as he turned back, "You know, money, power, it's not everything. You show your worth by what you do, not by what you have. I mean, look at me. Driving around in a 67 Impala. Tracking down the supernatural. Trunk full of weird ass stuff. Living in motels and restaurants. Think that’s a good prospect? No, but you know what? I don't give a damn. Because I know what I'm doing is right."
"Best not to get close," agreed Alex. "Let's agree that there's no future in it." He gave Dean a wide grin and indicated the Impala. "Besides, there's only room for one great love in your life, and if I had this car, I think I'd be content. It's quite the car, and you've obviously put a lot of work into it."
He nodded and patted the dash. "You should get yourself a decent stereo though. Some of your tapes are wearing out, and Metallica deserves better."
Dean wasn't going to mention that the car had been his dad's, given to him when dad got his truck. It wasn't a new truck, but still... Dad seemed to have a thing for the classics, and he seemed to like living in the past, dwelling on the time before he and Sam had been born, back when he first met mom.
"Yeah, well, kind of have to. It takes a beating at times, and I gotta have a car that looks as good as me." He smiled. "But there is nothing wrong with the stereo. My tapes play fine. The car deserves its original stereo."