Just a Matter of Time: Part 5: "Speak Sharply to Your Little Boy"
Title: Just a Matter of Time
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek Appearances: Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder and others.
Word Count: 4,348
> Rated: This part is PG, but it will be NC-17 slash in future parts
Beta: The beautiful lorelei633, who has stuck with us to the bitter end.
Disclaimer: Dean belongs to Erik Kripke and Alex belongs to 1013 Productions. We make no money.
Spoilers: Not in this part. Later there may be vague spoilers to 'In My Time Of Dying'
Teaser: "My, my, aren't we gracious?" Alex gave John an insolent smile. "You can call me Alex, if you want. I'm a friend of Dean's."
Chapter titles are borrowed from "Alice in Wonderland"
This story is finished and complete, and we intend to post it rapidly.
Dean exhaled deeply as they drew closer. At the light brush of lips, Dean felt his insides tighten. His cock was swelling as it only ever had with two other men in his life. Now, for some reason, it was getting happy for this man. Dean pressed forward as well, drawing a breath through his nose and exhaling as he leaned into Alex. He had to pause and work out angles, because this car was not like his Impala with its bench seat. He kept the kiss deep and sensual, exploring Alex’s mouth and dropping his hand down rather adventurously to cup at the tight jeans and find the arousal hidden there.
Pulling back slowly as he nibbled and sucked at Alex's bottom lip, he gave a smirk, "Teach me, if you can."
Alex shuddered as Dean's fingers found his groin, pressing against him and sending a jolt of pleasure through him. "Oh, yeah, I've got a ton of lessons for you, although it seems to me that you're pretty well educated already." He closed his eyes and moved in for another kiss, harder, more intense this time, tongue sliding in to lick and taste, while his fingers slid through Dean's hair.
Finally letting him go and sitting back, he gazed at Dean, who was looking flushed and gorgeous, lips kiss-plumped and delicious. "Jesus, man, you're a masterpiece of genetic engineering."
Dean had been basking in the reactions of his companion. His breath had almost been stolen by an intense and searching kiss. He couldn't hide the tiny tremble shaking his body as he felt fingers carding through his hair, although as Alex drew back and pulled away, he put his elation on hold.
Dean pulled his hand away reluctantly, letting blunt nails scrape over him as he withdrew it. "You’re impressive yourself. Pity this armrest is in the way. If it was my car, wouldn't have that problem." Dean had a dilemma. His hormones were screaming for more, but time wasn't allowing it. He had to get to his dad. He rubbed at his lips, still feeling them burning from Alex’s kiss. He glanced sideways at his companion, his hand itching to reach back across before forcing it to the keys in the ignition. "We gotta get going," he said, his words reluctant as he turned the key and started the engine.
"I get to carry on with this just as soon as we hit a motel, okay?" Alex's eyes burned into Dean's. "That's not an option, by the way. That's a statement of policy." His lips twitched a little as he readjusted his pants and tried to get comfortable. "If I don't get to finish what we've started here, I suspect that I might explode."
Dean shook his head and smiled. "Since you put it that way." He pulled the car away from the side of the road and back onto the blacktop. He shifted in his seat, equally uncomfortable. "Gee, I would really hate for you to make a mess, but the begging sounds like music to my ears." He smirked and pressed on the gas, wanting get to where his father was without losing any more time. It occurred to him sadly that if he and Alex were ever going to get it together it would have to be covertly, because Dean was sure his father wouldn't stand for it.
Dozing a little, Alex found himself having an erotic dream, and woke to find himself straining against his clothing, almost at the point of orgasm. Sitting bolt upright, he gasped. "Jesus! Where are we?"
He looked around himself, trying desperately to recover his cool exterior, eyeing Dean to see if he realized exactly what had happened to him. "We... umm... we nearly there yet?"
Dean glanced over at Alex and grinned, because the car had stopped and had been parked for some time. He nodded, "We're here. I remember that my father was chasing a shape-shifter." He studied the woods. His father was out there, and Dean knew he would eventually come back to the Impala sporting a few cuts and bruises and feeling dog-ass tired. He remembered that when John had returned home to them, there had been dark circles under his eyes and he’d been horribly pale. Dean remembered getting him soup to warm him up, before he’d cleaned him up and told him it was okay.
Looking out across the trees, Dean could see smoke rising. He climbed out, hands in his pocket as he moved over to the Impala. Looking into the backseat, he found a duffel bag there, filled with his father's gear. John Winchester would be returning soon, and he leaned against the car to wait for his father.
Alex sat in his car, feeling disoriented. Dean had mentioned a shape-shifter, and Alex was trying hard to get his head around the idea of a werewolf or something out here in the woods. He watched Dean saunter over to the big, black muscle car that was parked a little further down the verge, and he wondered what would happen when the father suddenly reappeared. He couldn't take his eyes off Dean. The man was gorgeous, and Alex wanted him so badly, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the opportunity. He was convinced that Dean had come from the future, and the thought that he might suddenly be yanked back just as abruptly was making him anxious.
Alex watched as Dean took up a perch on the hood of the Impala, and absently rubbed his groin. He was going to need fresh underwear very soon indeed. He was still thinking about the feel of Dean's tongue sliding over his, when the dark haired man emerged from the woods.
A little taller than Dean, he looked battered and bloodstained, and as he came face to face with Dean, Alex expected to see a friendly greeting. Instead, it looked very much as if there was going to be an argument.
Sighing, Alex climbed out of the car and went over to join in the fun.
John stood looking at the man who resembled his son but who was so obviously older, and whose hair was so much shorter. He looked rougher around the edges as well, and he said his name was Dean. In fact, he insisted that his name was Dean Winchester, but being who he was and knowing what his family did to make a living of sorts, John felt on edge, enervated from his recent hunt. "You are not Dean," he growled, reaching for his gun and drawing it on Dean. "So just what are you, before I put you to rest?"
"Dad?! It is me. I'm just... I'm from the future." Dean's mind worked fast, speeding up a hundredfold when he saw John whip around to point his gun at Alex too. "Dad, no, he's a friend."
"Just who the hell are you two?" John snapped. "Or should I say what?"
"Dad, it's me, Dean. Your son. When I was seven, you took me out shooting for the first time. You set up a line of cans and gave me the gun. I hit every one." Dean looked about, thinking again, "That thing you just killed, you told me all about it. It was a shapeshifter. It scratched your leg up pretty good. You took him out in two shots. One in the leg, and the other right in the forehead. You burned him. You left me and Sammy with Pastor Jim, and I made you cookies."
John frowned at Dean and lowered his gun somewhat, because only Dean would know those things. But then he looked at Alex, "Who are you?"
"My, my, aren't we gracious?" Alex gave John an insolent smile. "You can call me Alex, if you want. I'm a friend of Dean's." He put his hands in his jacket pockets, feeling the reassuring weight of the Glock he carried. If need be, he would shoot this surly bastard in the leg to encourage him to be polite. "Dean seemed to think that you'd be able to help him. Personally, I'm not so sure, but there you go."
John narrowed his eyes a bit, "Remind me to teach you not to hang out with little boys. Take your hands out of your pockets and leave the gun there."
Dean moved over to stand between him and Alex, "Dad, can we go someplace to talk this over. Alex is cool. You know I wouldn't bring him here if he wasn't."
John looked the two over, then lowered the gun, "There's a hotel not far from here. You follow. Dean, get in the car." John walked around to the driver's side of the Impala, while Dean gave Alex a look.
"I'll see you there," he said softly to Alex as he moved around to the passenger side. He got in, and it felt good to be in the Impala once again. As they drove off, Dean filled his father in, with everything he remembered. Everything that he could remember.
Following the Impala obediently, Alex frowned. This man that Dean was pinning his faith on so visibly seemed like nothing more than a bad tempered boor to him. The fact that John Winchester had called him a little boy hadn't sat well with him, and he was still nursing a hard on for Dean and his amazing lips.
"We don't need your dad, Dean," he growled, and then felt silly for talking to himself.
The Impala pulled into the parking lot of a hotel shortly after that, and Alex followed, pulling up alongside. Emerging from his vehicle, he strolled around to join the other two with an outer calm he definitely wasn't feeling. "So what's the plan, guys?" he asked.
John had emerged from the Impala, along with Dean, and the older man glared at Alex before heading into the small office to check them in. When he returned he was carrying the key to a room with two beds and looking thoughtful. While he’d been waiting, he’d been looking out the window at the man named Alex, and the other - the one that appeared to be his boy. Everything about the boy screamed Dean - his look, the way he acted - the fact that he knew things no one else would know. Even with the memory loss, John’s instincts told him there was something in the boy's eyes that said this was Dean.
But the other man, that was different matter. He was packing heat, for one thing. John wondered how Dean had hooked up with him. John didn't quite like the way Dean had explained their meeting. He’d told John about this Mulder character and how Alex was watching him. He could understand Dean's attraction to the man; he was handsome, with brilliant green eyes to match Dean’s own, and it was visibly clear that Alex was hot for Dean. You couldn't miss the raging hardon he had, despite the tough front he was putting on. And even now, as he stood with Dean, John could see Alex was leaning in closer than most men would, if they were just talking. So what did this guy want with his boy? Best to cut the man loose now, because it would likely be much more difficult later.
Signing for the key, he returned, stopping beside the two men. Dean had pushed away from the car, having recapped for Alex everything he’d told his father, almost, but not quite certain that his dad had believed him. "Got us a room so we can talk more privately," John informed Dean. He turned to look at Alex, "You can cut loose. I have him from here."
"Well, now, that's a matter of opinion." Alex's eyes narrowed. "Dean and I have some unfinished business, and I don't intend to run home with my tail between my legs, just because you decide I should." He frowned at John, wondering just what was his problem. "Besides, you might need me, you never know. I'm damned good in a fight."
John strode over, and Dean could sense an argument brewing. "No, it's a fact." John was now nose to nose with Alex. "Your business with Dean is done."
"Dad," Dean started to step forward, getting flashes of times he’d had to step between his father and Sam.
"We don't need him," John snarled.
"Maybe you don't, but I think that Dean's old enough to speak for himself." Alex was good and angry now, his game face in place, and his attitude suddenly shifted into stone cold killer mode. "What's the matter, daddy? You want to be the only alpha male around? Well, I've got news for you, Mr. Winchester. You can't just dismiss me like a servant, because I won't go. I like Dean, and I want to help him, and if that means you and I have to throw down because you're too pig-headed arrogant to step back and be pleasant, what can I say? Bring it on."
John grabbed the front of Alex's jacket, a snarl on his lips and his expression equally cold. Suddenly Dean pushed between them. "Knock it off you two!" Dean snapped. "That's enough. We don't need to attract attention."
John released Alex, but not without a little shove. He backed up, glancing at Dean. "We better get inside," he growled as he headed for the door.
Dean sighed, "He was like this with Sam, he explained apologetically. Dean motioned for Alex to go ahead of him, half-tempted to hotwire the car and leave, but he followed Alex into the room. His father had tossed his jacket on one of the beds. Dean closed the door behind him then leaned against it, suddenly looking tired and worn.
John had his hands in his pockets, gazing at his son. How his Dean was going to change! He looked as if he had some great weight placed upon him, and he was struggling to keep going. John frowned, wondering what was burdening Dean. "Okay," John finally said. "Can you remember where you were when you were thrown forward? Lets start with a state. Were you hunting?"
Dean finally moved away from the door and went over to sit down on one of the beds. "I think it was in Texas," he murmured, rubbing his forehead with two fingers as he hung his head, resting his elbows upon his knees.
"So what were you hunting in Texas?"
Dean shook his head, clearly trying to remember.
"What did he tell you?" John turned his attention to Alex, trying another tack.
"Not much. He said he couldn't remember." Alex shook his head, annoyed that he had nothing positive to contribute. "Actually, it was quite a long time before his memory came back, and that was only after we did a search on his driver's license. Before that, he couldn't even remember his name." Alex thought hard. "He said that you guys didn't ever go back to Kansas after you left it, but I don't suppose that's particularly useful." He scratched his head and smiled ruefully at Dean. "I'll tell you what brought that little bit of memory back for him, though. Seeing his photograph. You know, if you have some photos to show him, that might trigger a bit more."
He crossed over to sit next to Dean, visibly concerned about the level of stress Dean was exhibiting. "Hey there," he murmured, rubbing Dean's back. "Something's getting to you. What is it? Share the load, man, you're among friends now."
Dean shifted as the additional weight was placed on the bed and he unconsciously leaned in against Alex. That ache in his stomach was growing, especially when he gazed at his father. At that moment it was easier not to look at him, if he could help it. "Remember that feeling in my stomach I was telling you about?" If he actually had! Dean was getting to the point where he wasn't even sure of that any more. He lifted his head to sneak a peek at his father.
John frowned, looking about the room, anywhere except the two sitting on the bed. They remained like that for a long, tense moment, and then John grabbed his journal and moved over to where the two men sat. He resented Alex. The Winchesters had always survived on their own. They didn't need anybody else. It should have been Sammy sitting there, not him, even if he did remind John a little of his younger son with his wide green eyes and his mop of hair.
"Here, will this help?" He sat down beside Dean and handed over his journal.
Dean took the book as if it was something natural to do. He opened it up and saw his father's medals just where they should be, alongside a picture of when he was in the service. Dean frowned because there should be more in there. He pulled a picture out of the three Winchesters from a year long past sitting upon the hood of the car. "We were on a hunting trip. Sammy liked it... sort of," he explained to Alex, looking to his father for confirmation.
"He always did balk at the bow training." John had moved closer to his son. He wanted to reach up and touch him. He hadn't really touched him at all yet - not this Dean. It seemed as if the boy's body was screaming for the contact, somehow needing it to reaffirm his own existence. "Keep going, Dean."
Dean started to leaf through the pages. John's handwriting and drawings littered them. He stopped at a blank page and frowned, trying to remember. "There should be something here." He tapped it as he closed his eyes trying to picture it, then reached into his wallet, pulling out the pictures he had of Sam. He stared at them. "I was with Sammy," he whispered.
John seemed relieved to hear that bit of news. Even as adults the boys were going to be together. "Still taking care of your little brother, I see. That’s good, son."
"Never-ending job," Dean gave a fake laugh as he handed the pictures over to Alex. "My little brother, Sam. I used those to make IDs for him." He frowned as he looked at his father. "We had your journal though. Dad, you never leave this behind." He held up the book and then dropped his head into both hands, rubbing at the back of his neck as if it ached.
John finally reached over to touch Dean's hair. It was shorter than his Dean was currently wearing it. "Maybe you should rest some."
Dean leaned into John for a moment before suddenly pulling away. "I am kind of tired." He closed the journal and handed it back.
"Hardly surprising," murmured Alex, huskily. "You've been driving non-stop for two days now. I'd be pretty damned shocked if you weren't."
He frowned at Dean. The constant mention of that empty feeling inside was worrying Alex. Who knew what effects being thrown back in time had caused Dean? There was something about Dean, something vulnerable. It made Alex want to pull Dean to him and hold on tight, just in case the other man might vanish from his sight.
"You need to get some rest, boy. Just slide into bed and I'll sing you to sleep, okay?" Alex smiled at Dean, a genuine smile that offered him a little encouragement. "Thing is, I'm not quite sure I understand what's going to happen next. You reckon that your dad came back home to you all covered in werewolf guts, and you helped clean him off and make him some soup, so is that still going to happen, or are we changing history here, and if we do change history, will that mean that the future changes too, with all that entails?"
Dean bumped Alex with his shoulder before kicking off his shoes and turning in place to climb up on the bed. John had gotten up to put his journal away. He stopped, picking up the shirt Dean had just taken off. "Hmm… good question. It might, it might not," He laid the shirt down on the chair by the table. "There are some that believe there are many time lines that radiate like a spider web, each one slightly different. It might change this time line but not affect his. It may not do anything at all because that wasn't a werewolf I killed, so maybe I’ll run into something else along the way home."
Dean looked up at his father, "But you told me that was what it was." Then Dean realized there were many things his father had never told him. He bit back further words and settled into the bed.
"Get some sleep, Dean." John looked at Alex, "You can have this bed." He motioned towards it as he went to sit at the small table with his journal.
"Yeah?" Alex nodded. "Maybe in a while. I'm not the one that's stressed to the max and exhausted from a mad drive across the country. I'll sleep in an hour or so, but I'm not tired yet." He turned to look at Dean, noting the purple hollows beneath his thick sweep of dark lashes. Dean had fallen asleep already, snoring softly as he rolled to lie on his stomach, his hand under the pillow in the curious, child-like gesture that Alex had noted the previous night.
"Look at him. He's completely wiped." Alex crossed to sit at the table beside John. "So tell me, you got any ideas yet? There's something really eating at him, and when he remembers what it was, it's gonna break him, so the sooner we get him sorted out and sent back to his own time, the better, wouldn't you say?"
John cast a glance over at his son before going back to his journal. He had noticed it as well - the dark circles and the weight upon him. Finally he set his pen down and looked up at Alex. "It seems Dean has been pushing himself too hard. I don't know why. At least back where he’s come from, Sam, his brother, is with him. Was with him, I mean. I guess that there has to be another reason, and we’ll need to get it out of him." He tapped his pen on his journal.
"We need to find the area where the time shift happened. I think that's our best bet. If there was some sort of portal, it might still be there in this time. If not, I know that there are cliffs out in Arizona that are believed to have portals, strong energy. Certain magnetic anomalies. It would be worth a shot if our first attempt strikes out. That whole area has been reported of having some sort of vortex energy."
There was silence for a while, and then John looked up again. "Dean said your friend, Mulder, looks into this kind of thing. He ever mention it to you?"
"Whoa. Let me set something straight. Mulder is no friend of mine. Quite the opposite, actually, and he mentioned so many things like that to me that I'm not sure what to tell you. Arizona... hmmm..." Alex laid his hand flat on the table and stared at it as if it was the answer to the questions he was seeking.
"If it's any help at all, Dean landed in this time up at Martha's Vineyard, but I get the feeling that wasn't where he was when he started out." For a moment, Alex paused, then he raised his eyes to John's. "We can try this vortex energy thing of yours, if you like, but if you ask me, the first thing we need to do is to help him remember. If he can just remember, we'll be able to help him."
John looked over at Dean. The boy was sleeping in exactly the same way that John had seen him throughout his childhood. Dean still looked like his little boy - like the teenager he’d left behind to take care of his youngest. He shifted his gaze back to Alex. "Maybe some things are best left forgotten. And there is no guarantee any of this will work." He returned to scribbling in his journal.
Dean shifted restlessly. The nightmares were returning. He gave a little moan, and John shifted his head and frowned, "Has he been having nightmares?" he asked Alex, and when Alex shrugged, John went back to writing in his journal.
Dean suddenly started to thrash and sweat, groaning as he suddenly jerked awake, sitting up and looking around wildly. He had tears in his eyes, and his heart was racing. He wore a terrified look on his face, apparently unaware of where he was.
"Yeah." Alex rose to go to Dean, a worried look on his face. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and began to massage Dean's back gently. "It's okay, Dean. You're okay. You don't have to be scared; nothing bad's going to happen to you as long as we're here."
He shrugged at John, then turned back to Dean again as he did so. "There's something he's trying not to remember, I know it."
John seemed frozen to his seat. That look on Dean's face was exactly like the ones he’d seen when Dean would wake at four a.m., crying, just after his mom died. He closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to dredge up memories that were better forgotten.
Turning over, Dean sat up, fighting his urge to cling to Alex. "I'm okay," he said, eyes desperately searching for his father again. He felt a sudden pang slice through his heart and turned, dropping down to face away from them, closing his eyes tightly as he swallowed down the tears he wasn't sure why he was shedding.
John pushed his journal aside, "Dean, what were you dreaming about?"
Dean didn't answer.
Authors: art_of_mayhem and candygramme
Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek Appearances: Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder and others.
Word Count: 4,348
> Rated: This part is PG, but it will be NC-17 slash in future parts
Beta: The beautiful lorelei633, who has stuck with us to the bitter end.
Disclaimer: Dean belongs to Erik Kripke and Alex belongs to 1013 Productions. We make no money.
Spoilers: Not in this part. Later there may be vague spoilers to 'In My Time Of Dying'
Teaser: "My, my, aren't we gracious?" Alex gave John an insolent smile. "You can call me Alex, if you want. I'm a friend of Dean's."
Chapter titles are borrowed from "Alice in Wonderland"
This story is finished and complete, and we intend to post it rapidly.
Dean exhaled deeply as they drew closer. At the light brush of lips, Dean felt his insides tighten. His cock was swelling as it only ever had with two other men in his life. Now, for some reason, it was getting happy for this man. Dean pressed forward as well, drawing a breath through his nose and exhaling as he leaned into Alex. He had to pause and work out angles, because this car was not like his Impala with its bench seat. He kept the kiss deep and sensual, exploring Alex’s mouth and dropping his hand down rather adventurously to cup at the tight jeans and find the arousal hidden there.
Pulling back slowly as he nibbled and sucked at Alex's bottom lip, he gave a smirk, "Teach me, if you can."
Alex shuddered as Dean's fingers found his groin, pressing against him and sending a jolt of pleasure through him. "Oh, yeah, I've got a ton of lessons for you, although it seems to me that you're pretty well educated already." He closed his eyes and moved in for another kiss, harder, more intense this time, tongue sliding in to lick and taste, while his fingers slid through Dean's hair.
Finally letting him go and sitting back, he gazed at Dean, who was looking flushed and gorgeous, lips kiss-plumped and delicious. "Jesus, man, you're a masterpiece of genetic engineering."
Dean had been basking in the reactions of his companion. His breath had almost been stolen by an intense and searching kiss. He couldn't hide the tiny tremble shaking his body as he felt fingers carding through his hair, although as Alex drew back and pulled away, he put his elation on hold.
Dean pulled his hand away reluctantly, letting blunt nails scrape over him as he withdrew it. "You’re impressive yourself. Pity this armrest is in the way. If it was my car, wouldn't have that problem." Dean had a dilemma. His hormones were screaming for more, but time wasn't allowing it. He had to get to his dad. He rubbed at his lips, still feeling them burning from Alex’s kiss. He glanced sideways at his companion, his hand itching to reach back across before forcing it to the keys in the ignition. "We gotta get going," he said, his words reluctant as he turned the key and started the engine.
"I get to carry on with this just as soon as we hit a motel, okay?" Alex's eyes burned into Dean's. "That's not an option, by the way. That's a statement of policy." His lips twitched a little as he readjusted his pants and tried to get comfortable. "If I don't get to finish what we've started here, I suspect that I might explode."
Dean shook his head and smiled. "Since you put it that way." He pulled the car away from the side of the road and back onto the blacktop. He shifted in his seat, equally uncomfortable. "Gee, I would really hate for you to make a mess, but the begging sounds like music to my ears." He smirked and pressed on the gas, wanting get to where his father was without losing any more time. It occurred to him sadly that if he and Alex were ever going to get it together it would have to be covertly, because Dean was sure his father wouldn't stand for it.
Dozing a little, Alex found himself having an erotic dream, and woke to find himself straining against his clothing, almost at the point of orgasm. Sitting bolt upright, he gasped. "Jesus! Where are we?"
He looked around himself, trying desperately to recover his cool exterior, eyeing Dean to see if he realized exactly what had happened to him. "We... umm... we nearly there yet?"
Dean glanced over at Alex and grinned, because the car had stopped and had been parked for some time. He nodded, "We're here. I remember that my father was chasing a shape-shifter." He studied the woods. His father was out there, and Dean knew he would eventually come back to the Impala sporting a few cuts and bruises and feeling dog-ass tired. He remembered that when John had returned home to them, there had been dark circles under his eyes and he’d been horribly pale. Dean remembered getting him soup to warm him up, before he’d cleaned him up and told him it was okay.
Looking out across the trees, Dean could see smoke rising. He climbed out, hands in his pocket as he moved over to the Impala. Looking into the backseat, he found a duffel bag there, filled with his father's gear. John Winchester would be returning soon, and he leaned against the car to wait for his father.
Alex sat in his car, feeling disoriented. Dean had mentioned a shape-shifter, and Alex was trying hard to get his head around the idea of a werewolf or something out here in the woods. He watched Dean saunter over to the big, black muscle car that was parked a little further down the verge, and he wondered what would happen when the father suddenly reappeared. He couldn't take his eyes off Dean. The man was gorgeous, and Alex wanted him so badly, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the opportunity. He was convinced that Dean had come from the future, and the thought that he might suddenly be yanked back just as abruptly was making him anxious.
Alex watched as Dean took up a perch on the hood of the Impala, and absently rubbed his groin. He was going to need fresh underwear very soon indeed. He was still thinking about the feel of Dean's tongue sliding over his, when the dark haired man emerged from the woods.
A little taller than Dean, he looked battered and bloodstained, and as he came face to face with Dean, Alex expected to see a friendly greeting. Instead, it looked very much as if there was going to be an argument.
Sighing, Alex climbed out of the car and went over to join in the fun.
John stood looking at the man who resembled his son but who was so obviously older, and whose hair was so much shorter. He looked rougher around the edges as well, and he said his name was Dean. In fact, he insisted that his name was Dean Winchester, but being who he was and knowing what his family did to make a living of sorts, John felt on edge, enervated from his recent hunt. "You are not Dean," he growled, reaching for his gun and drawing it on Dean. "So just what are you, before I put you to rest?"
"Dad?! It is me. I'm just... I'm from the future." Dean's mind worked fast, speeding up a hundredfold when he saw John whip around to point his gun at Alex too. "Dad, no, he's a friend."
"Just who the hell are you two?" John snapped. "Or should I say what?"
"Dad, it's me, Dean. Your son. When I was seven, you took me out shooting for the first time. You set up a line of cans and gave me the gun. I hit every one." Dean looked about, thinking again, "That thing you just killed, you told me all about it. It was a shapeshifter. It scratched your leg up pretty good. You took him out in two shots. One in the leg, and the other right in the forehead. You burned him. You left me and Sammy with Pastor Jim, and I made you cookies."
John frowned at Dean and lowered his gun somewhat, because only Dean would know those things. But then he looked at Alex, "Who are you?"
"My, my, aren't we gracious?" Alex gave John an insolent smile. "You can call me Alex, if you want. I'm a friend of Dean's." He put his hands in his jacket pockets, feeling the reassuring weight of the Glock he carried. If need be, he would shoot this surly bastard in the leg to encourage him to be polite. "Dean seemed to think that you'd be able to help him. Personally, I'm not so sure, but there you go."
John narrowed his eyes a bit, "Remind me to teach you not to hang out with little boys. Take your hands out of your pockets and leave the gun there."
Dean moved over to stand between him and Alex, "Dad, can we go someplace to talk this over. Alex is cool. You know I wouldn't bring him here if he wasn't."
John looked the two over, then lowered the gun, "There's a hotel not far from here. You follow. Dean, get in the car." John walked around to the driver's side of the Impala, while Dean gave Alex a look.
"I'll see you there," he said softly to Alex as he moved around to the passenger side. He got in, and it felt good to be in the Impala once again. As they drove off, Dean filled his father in, with everything he remembered. Everything that he could remember.
Following the Impala obediently, Alex frowned. This man that Dean was pinning his faith on so visibly seemed like nothing more than a bad tempered boor to him. The fact that John Winchester had called him a little boy hadn't sat well with him, and he was still nursing a hard on for Dean and his amazing lips.
"We don't need your dad, Dean," he growled, and then felt silly for talking to himself.
The Impala pulled into the parking lot of a hotel shortly after that, and Alex followed, pulling up alongside. Emerging from his vehicle, he strolled around to join the other two with an outer calm he definitely wasn't feeling. "So what's the plan, guys?" he asked.
John had emerged from the Impala, along with Dean, and the older man glared at Alex before heading into the small office to check them in. When he returned he was carrying the key to a room with two beds and looking thoughtful. While he’d been waiting, he’d been looking out the window at the man named Alex, and the other - the one that appeared to be his boy. Everything about the boy screamed Dean - his look, the way he acted - the fact that he knew things no one else would know. Even with the memory loss, John’s instincts told him there was something in the boy's eyes that said this was Dean.
But the other man, that was different matter. He was packing heat, for one thing. John wondered how Dean had hooked up with him. John didn't quite like the way Dean had explained their meeting. He’d told John about this Mulder character and how Alex was watching him. He could understand Dean's attraction to the man; he was handsome, with brilliant green eyes to match Dean’s own, and it was visibly clear that Alex was hot for Dean. You couldn't miss the raging hardon he had, despite the tough front he was putting on. And even now, as he stood with Dean, John could see Alex was leaning in closer than most men would, if they were just talking. So what did this guy want with his boy? Best to cut the man loose now, because it would likely be much more difficult later.
Signing for the key, he returned, stopping beside the two men. Dean had pushed away from the car, having recapped for Alex everything he’d told his father, almost, but not quite certain that his dad had believed him. "Got us a room so we can talk more privately," John informed Dean. He turned to look at Alex, "You can cut loose. I have him from here."
"Well, now, that's a matter of opinion." Alex's eyes narrowed. "Dean and I have some unfinished business, and I don't intend to run home with my tail between my legs, just because you decide I should." He frowned at John, wondering just what was his problem. "Besides, you might need me, you never know. I'm damned good in a fight."
John strode over, and Dean could sense an argument brewing. "No, it's a fact." John was now nose to nose with Alex. "Your business with Dean is done."
"Dad," Dean started to step forward, getting flashes of times he’d had to step between his father and Sam.
"We don't need him," John snarled.
"Maybe you don't, but I think that Dean's old enough to speak for himself." Alex was good and angry now, his game face in place, and his attitude suddenly shifted into stone cold killer mode. "What's the matter, daddy? You want to be the only alpha male around? Well, I've got news for you, Mr. Winchester. You can't just dismiss me like a servant, because I won't go. I like Dean, and I want to help him, and if that means you and I have to throw down because you're too pig-headed arrogant to step back and be pleasant, what can I say? Bring it on."
John grabbed the front of Alex's jacket, a snarl on his lips and his expression equally cold. Suddenly Dean pushed between them. "Knock it off you two!" Dean snapped. "That's enough. We don't need to attract attention."
John released Alex, but not without a little shove. He backed up, glancing at Dean. "We better get inside," he growled as he headed for the door.
Dean sighed, "He was like this with Sam, he explained apologetically. Dean motioned for Alex to go ahead of him, half-tempted to hotwire the car and leave, but he followed Alex into the room. His father had tossed his jacket on one of the beds. Dean closed the door behind him then leaned against it, suddenly looking tired and worn.
John had his hands in his pockets, gazing at his son. How his Dean was going to change! He looked as if he had some great weight placed upon him, and he was struggling to keep going. John frowned, wondering what was burdening Dean. "Okay," John finally said. "Can you remember where you were when you were thrown forward? Lets start with a state. Were you hunting?"
Dean finally moved away from the door and went over to sit down on one of the beds. "I think it was in Texas," he murmured, rubbing his forehead with two fingers as he hung his head, resting his elbows upon his knees.
"So what were you hunting in Texas?"
Dean shook his head, clearly trying to remember.
"What did he tell you?" John turned his attention to Alex, trying another tack.
"Not much. He said he couldn't remember." Alex shook his head, annoyed that he had nothing positive to contribute. "Actually, it was quite a long time before his memory came back, and that was only after we did a search on his driver's license. Before that, he couldn't even remember his name." Alex thought hard. "He said that you guys didn't ever go back to Kansas after you left it, but I don't suppose that's particularly useful." He scratched his head and smiled ruefully at Dean. "I'll tell you what brought that little bit of memory back for him, though. Seeing his photograph. You know, if you have some photos to show him, that might trigger a bit more."
He crossed over to sit next to Dean, visibly concerned about the level of stress Dean was exhibiting. "Hey there," he murmured, rubbing Dean's back. "Something's getting to you. What is it? Share the load, man, you're among friends now."
Dean shifted as the additional weight was placed on the bed and he unconsciously leaned in against Alex. That ache in his stomach was growing, especially when he gazed at his father. At that moment it was easier not to look at him, if he could help it. "Remember that feeling in my stomach I was telling you about?" If he actually had! Dean was getting to the point where he wasn't even sure of that any more. He lifted his head to sneak a peek at his father.
John frowned, looking about the room, anywhere except the two sitting on the bed. They remained like that for a long, tense moment, and then John grabbed his journal and moved over to where the two men sat. He resented Alex. The Winchesters had always survived on their own. They didn't need anybody else. It should have been Sammy sitting there, not him, even if he did remind John a little of his younger son with his wide green eyes and his mop of hair.
"Here, will this help?" He sat down beside Dean and handed over his journal.
Dean took the book as if it was something natural to do. He opened it up and saw his father's medals just where they should be, alongside a picture of when he was in the service. Dean frowned because there should be more in there. He pulled a picture out of the three Winchesters from a year long past sitting upon the hood of the car. "We were on a hunting trip. Sammy liked it... sort of," he explained to Alex, looking to his father for confirmation.
"He always did balk at the bow training." John had moved closer to his son. He wanted to reach up and touch him. He hadn't really touched him at all yet - not this Dean. It seemed as if the boy's body was screaming for the contact, somehow needing it to reaffirm his own existence. "Keep going, Dean."
Dean started to leaf through the pages. John's handwriting and drawings littered them. He stopped at a blank page and frowned, trying to remember. "There should be something here." He tapped it as he closed his eyes trying to picture it, then reached into his wallet, pulling out the pictures he had of Sam. He stared at them. "I was with Sammy," he whispered.
John seemed relieved to hear that bit of news. Even as adults the boys were going to be together. "Still taking care of your little brother, I see. That’s good, son."
"Never-ending job," Dean gave a fake laugh as he handed the pictures over to Alex. "My little brother, Sam. I used those to make IDs for him." He frowned as he looked at his father. "We had your journal though. Dad, you never leave this behind." He held up the book and then dropped his head into both hands, rubbing at the back of his neck as if it ached.
John finally reached over to touch Dean's hair. It was shorter than his Dean was currently wearing it. "Maybe you should rest some."
Dean leaned into John for a moment before suddenly pulling away. "I am kind of tired." He closed the journal and handed it back.
"Hardly surprising," murmured Alex, huskily. "You've been driving non-stop for two days now. I'd be pretty damned shocked if you weren't."
He frowned at Dean. The constant mention of that empty feeling inside was worrying Alex. Who knew what effects being thrown back in time had caused Dean? There was something about Dean, something vulnerable. It made Alex want to pull Dean to him and hold on tight, just in case the other man might vanish from his sight.
"You need to get some rest, boy. Just slide into bed and I'll sing you to sleep, okay?" Alex smiled at Dean, a genuine smile that offered him a little encouragement. "Thing is, I'm not quite sure I understand what's going to happen next. You reckon that your dad came back home to you all covered in werewolf guts, and you helped clean him off and make him some soup, so is that still going to happen, or are we changing history here, and if we do change history, will that mean that the future changes too, with all that entails?"
Dean bumped Alex with his shoulder before kicking off his shoes and turning in place to climb up on the bed. John had gotten up to put his journal away. He stopped, picking up the shirt Dean had just taken off. "Hmm… good question. It might, it might not," He laid the shirt down on the chair by the table. "There are some that believe there are many time lines that radiate like a spider web, each one slightly different. It might change this time line but not affect his. It may not do anything at all because that wasn't a werewolf I killed, so maybe I’ll run into something else along the way home."
Dean looked up at his father, "But you told me that was what it was." Then Dean realized there were many things his father had never told him. He bit back further words and settled into the bed.
"Get some sleep, Dean." John looked at Alex, "You can have this bed." He motioned towards it as he went to sit at the small table with his journal.
"Yeah?" Alex nodded. "Maybe in a while. I'm not the one that's stressed to the max and exhausted from a mad drive across the country. I'll sleep in an hour or so, but I'm not tired yet." He turned to look at Dean, noting the purple hollows beneath his thick sweep of dark lashes. Dean had fallen asleep already, snoring softly as he rolled to lie on his stomach, his hand under the pillow in the curious, child-like gesture that Alex had noted the previous night.
"Look at him. He's completely wiped." Alex crossed to sit at the table beside John. "So tell me, you got any ideas yet? There's something really eating at him, and when he remembers what it was, it's gonna break him, so the sooner we get him sorted out and sent back to his own time, the better, wouldn't you say?"
John cast a glance over at his son before going back to his journal. He had noticed it as well - the dark circles and the weight upon him. Finally he set his pen down and looked up at Alex. "It seems Dean has been pushing himself too hard. I don't know why. At least back where he’s come from, Sam, his brother, is with him. Was with him, I mean. I guess that there has to be another reason, and we’ll need to get it out of him." He tapped his pen on his journal.
"We need to find the area where the time shift happened. I think that's our best bet. If there was some sort of portal, it might still be there in this time. If not, I know that there are cliffs out in Arizona that are believed to have portals, strong energy. Certain magnetic anomalies. It would be worth a shot if our first attempt strikes out. That whole area has been reported of having some sort of vortex energy."
There was silence for a while, and then John looked up again. "Dean said your friend, Mulder, looks into this kind of thing. He ever mention it to you?"
"Whoa. Let me set something straight. Mulder is no friend of mine. Quite the opposite, actually, and he mentioned so many things like that to me that I'm not sure what to tell you. Arizona... hmmm..." Alex laid his hand flat on the table and stared at it as if it was the answer to the questions he was seeking.
"If it's any help at all, Dean landed in this time up at Martha's Vineyard, but I get the feeling that wasn't where he was when he started out." For a moment, Alex paused, then he raised his eyes to John's. "We can try this vortex energy thing of yours, if you like, but if you ask me, the first thing we need to do is to help him remember. If he can just remember, we'll be able to help him."
John looked over at Dean. The boy was sleeping in exactly the same way that John had seen him throughout his childhood. Dean still looked like his little boy - like the teenager he’d left behind to take care of his youngest. He shifted his gaze back to Alex. "Maybe some things are best left forgotten. And there is no guarantee any of this will work." He returned to scribbling in his journal.
Dean shifted restlessly. The nightmares were returning. He gave a little moan, and John shifted his head and frowned, "Has he been having nightmares?" he asked Alex, and when Alex shrugged, John went back to writing in his journal.
Dean suddenly started to thrash and sweat, groaning as he suddenly jerked awake, sitting up and looking around wildly. He had tears in his eyes, and his heart was racing. He wore a terrified look on his face, apparently unaware of where he was.
"Yeah." Alex rose to go to Dean, a worried look on his face. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and began to massage Dean's back gently. "It's okay, Dean. You're okay. You don't have to be scared; nothing bad's going to happen to you as long as we're here."
He shrugged at John, then turned back to Dean again as he did so. "There's something he's trying not to remember, I know it."
John seemed frozen to his seat. That look on Dean's face was exactly like the ones he’d seen when Dean would wake at four a.m., crying, just after his mom died. He closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to dredge up memories that were better forgotten.
Turning over, Dean sat up, fighting his urge to cling to Alex. "I'm okay," he said, eyes desperately searching for his father again. He felt a sudden pang slice through his heart and turned, dropping down to face away from them, closing his eyes tightly as he swallowed down the tears he wasn't sure why he was shedding.
John pushed his journal aside, "Dean, what were you dreaming about?"
Dean didn't answer.