Crave - Part 5
Title: Crave - WIP - Part 5
Author: Mica Monroe & Deans Dark Dream
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Dean/Dax
Rating: NC17
Warning: hate speech, extreme violence, character death, grief, drug abuse
Disclaimer: We own nothing and intend no harm.
Summary: AU Sam filled with regret over the loss of Dean, has settled back at the ranch with his father, John. Dean has settled happily into married life with Dax in San Francisco. Neither brother could have possibly prepared for the soul crushing tragedy that would reunite them.
A/N: Dare and I have both been victims of hate crimes. We have both lost someone we love to hate crimes. This chapter details that type of crime. This part of the fic is violent and emotionally upsetting. Dedicated to Zach & Bobby who live in our hearts.
Crave
Sam was laying on the bed in Dean's room remembering the night he and Dean had been together for the first time. He could picture Dean's smile and remember how Dean had touched his hand to reassure him. It was February 18th, 2001 and Dean had called earlier that day to tell Sam and John that he and Dax had just gotten married in Massachusetts. Dean had sounded so damn happy it made Sam ache. Ruby had been pressuring him to get married. She said she wanted to start having kids while she was still young enough to play with them. Sam knew he wouldn't marry her. He didn't want kids with her. All he wanted was to turn back time and change everything. The thought of never holding Dean again, never having Dean naked and in ecstasy in his bed, sliced through Sam and left him bleeding. Sam closed his eyes and held onto the memory of holding Dean's warm pliant body against him as they fell asleep in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
~*~
Dean and Dax became icons to a whole generation of LGBT kids. The openly gay married couple started a foundation that funded shelters for homeless LGBT kids all across America. They would periodically drop in on the shelters to visit and see how the operations were being run. The kids were always excited to see them and sorry to see them go. Dax and Dean attended Pride Events all over the world and gave speeches on tolerance and acceptance. The couple did exclusive modeling campaigns for Armani Exchange, Prada, Kenneth Cole and Viva Glam Cosmetics that helped to fund their charitable foundation through the years. The multi talented duo made a splash in the music industry when they recorded a few albums with the help of Christian Kane and Steve Carlson who had become major contributors to their charity foundation. They acted in supporting roles together and separately in dozens of films and were very popular choices for music videos. Dean and Dax were partners in every sense of the word. As the years passed, their bond only deepened.
It was a lazy afternoon in March of 2011. Dean and Dax had celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary less than a month ago. They had been too busy to get away at the time but now things in their life had slowed down a bit.
“Let's go to New Orleans. I've always wanted to paint that town red.” Dean said as he leaned back in Dax's arms on the sofa.
“If that's where you want to go, I'm in.” Dax replied as he traced patterns on the taut skin of Dean's abdomen.
In their ten years together, Dax had never denied Dean anything he'd wanted. He adored the younger man and only ever wanted to see him happy and smiling like he was today.
“I'll made the reservations. We'll arrive on the 23rd and depart on the 28th.” Dean said and turned his head to get a kiss. “Big Easy, here we come!”
~*~
It was March 27th, Dean and Dax last night in New Orleans. They had decided to just chill and go to a couple of bars before heading back to their hotel room. They were walking with their arms around each other looking for a gay club called Mojo Madness that was supposed to be wildly decorated and a lot of fun. Suddenly, two large men loomed up in front of them from out of an alleyway. Dean and Dax started to go around but they were grabbed from behind. Dean started to yell but a harsh voice stopped him.
“You make another sound your faggot boyfriend gets his throat cut.”
Dean's eyes got huge as they saw the glint of metal against Dax's throat. He was terrified. There were five large, rough looking guys surrounding them. They dragged Dean and Dax down the filthy alleyway and into what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
“We don't like your kind coming around here flaunting yourselves in front of decent god fearing folks.” One of the men stepped forward and stated harshly. He was over six foot tall with shaggy hair and rough clothes.
“We're just here vacationing. We're leaving in the morning. We don't want any trouble.” Dax said looking around for a way out.
“Shut the fuck up, faggot! Nobody here wants to hear anything you got to say. Reverend Phelps told us you were a scourge and would try to tempt, twist and convert us with your words. You're an evil abomination and you must be punished.”
The tall man moved in front of Dax as he spoke and ended his speech with a punch to Dax's face. Dax had tried to avoid the blow but he was being held tightly and caught it across the cheek bone. The brass knuckles his attacker was wearing split the skin and cracked the bone. Dean screamed and tried to pull loose from the man behind him. Another man joined the first and they both started to beat Dax as he was held by the man behind him. Dean kept screaming and trying to pull away from the man who had his arms pinned. Dax struggled so hard to free himself that his left shoulder popped out of joint and he screamed in agony as one of the men began to pound the spot with his meaty fists. The pain overwhelmed Dax and he passed out. Dean was still screaming for them to stop and the two men looked at him. They began to kick Dax's limp body and Dean was going out of his mind kicking, screaming, and trying to bite the man that was holding him.
Dax gasped, cried out and opened his eyes. He looked up at Dean and their eyes locked. Dax mouthed 'I love you' and Dean mouthed it back. Then the tall man, who had spoken earlier, kicked Dax in the face. Dean heard the sickening crunch of bone as Dax's nose was pulverized by the man's steel toed boot. Dax was on his back now. His nose flattened and his lips split and bleeding. Blood was trickling out of his mouth and down his chin. His exposed cheekbone glowed in the light. Dean was screaming and crying and pleading in an endless litany of grief and outrage. The man who had been pinning Dax's arms began to beat Dean pummeling him with punch after punch to his face and stomach. The man paused for just a moment to catch his breath and Dean had a clear view as the two men standing over Dax brought their booted feet down on his ribcage. The sound it made when his ribs cracked and pierced his lungs would remain with Dean for the rest of his life. He watched as a gout of blood spurted out of Dax's mouth, then his body went still. Dean screamed until a white light exploded in his head and he was lost to the darkness.
~*~
When Dean woke up in the hospital John and Sam were both there. One on each side of him, just like in the old days. One entire side of Dean's face was covered in bandages and looking down all he could see were casts and tubes. He started to ask what had happened but the image of Dax's ruined blood covered face flashed in his mind and he cried out. “Dax!”
John looked down at Dean and said around the lump in his throat, “I'm so sorry, Dean.”
Dean closed his good eye and let the tears fall unchecked. He had known Dax was gone but having it confirmed by his dad made it undeniably real. John and Sam looked at each other across Dean. Both of them were leaking tears as they held Dean's hands. Dax had been killed and Dean had very nearly died too. A group of college kids cutting through the alley had heard Dean screaming and called 911. A police unit had been right around the corner and showed up in a couple minutes. The ambulance had taken a little longer but Dean had hung on. John and Sam had been on a flight within an hour of getting the call about Dean being beaten. The police wouldn't give them any information on Dax at that time. They hadn't found out about his death til they arrived at the hospital and the cops had intercepted them there.
The five men who had murdered Dax and assaulted Dean were in custody along with the two video cameras they had set up to record the hate crimes. Several high profile lawyers from the LGBT community had already contacted John about taking Dean's case pro bono. Dax and Dean had been supporters and good will ambassadors for the community and they wanted justice to be served. John had gratefully accepted their offer to represent Dean's interests. He was enraged over what had happened to Dax and Dean. He wanted to see the men who did it prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Each time Dean woke up, he only yearned to retreat into blissful unconsciousness again. He had already undergone a few surgeries and was facing more to repair all the damage done by the beating he had endured. His grief wrapped around him like a sheltering blanket of snow. It muffled sounds, softened his vision and shielded him from touches. He needed to be separated from the world right now. If he had to deal with it, he would start screaming and never stop.
Dean had been in the hospital for a month when John came in and told him that the men who had killed Dax had committed suicide in jail. Someone had given them cyanide capsules and they had all taken them at the same time. John said the lawyers felt they did it because of the overwhelming amount of evidence found against them. There had been several video tapes retrieved from the home of the leader of the group that documented their hate crimes. They had been facing multiple murder charges that would have put all of them in prison for the rest of their lives. Since the oldest man was twenty nine and the youngest barely twenty, it would have been a long sentence.
Dean didn't really respond to this news. The deaths of those monsters wouldn't bring Dax back. Dean knew he was broken inside. He knew he wasn't going through the steps of grief as he was supposed to. He figured he would have to pretend he was so John and Sam would leave him alone. Dean didn't want to live without Dax at his side. Dax had given Dean unconditional and unselfish love. Dean needed that love to survive and Dax was no longer here to provide it.
John and Sam talked a lot about Dean's state of mind. They worried constantly and spent almost every waking hour at the hospital. They watched each step of the way and the doctors restored Dean one operation at a time. The surgery on Dean's injured right eye had been successful. He would never have perfect vision again but at least he would be able to see. The sections of his brain that had been injured were healing. Dean seemed to have some memory loss and some loss of motor skills but the doctors were hopeful that with time, he would improve. The plastic surgeon had worked a miracle on Dean's face which had been carved with a hunting knife. There was only a thin white scar now that ran from his left temple down his cheek and ending just under his jaw line. His left wrist had been set and was healing nicely. His broken ribs were healing and the puncture to his lung had been repaired. His shattered left knee cap had been replaced and the herniated discs in his spine had been operated on successfully. In a few days, Dean would be released to go home. John and Sam had been insisting that Dean come home with them but Dean had other ideas.
“Dad, everyone grieves in their own way. I need to be alone. I've set up regular appointments with a grief counselor. I've joined a support group. I am going to deal with Dax's death my way.” Dean looked into his dad's eyes and made him believe it.
Sam was more reluctant. “Let me come back to San Francisco with you. I can help you got through things at the house. You haven't been released to drive yet. I can take you to your doctor appointments and support group meetings. Please Dean, let me do something for you.” Sam was on the verge of tears at the thought of leaving Dean. He had almost lost his brother forever and the thought had horrified him. He wanted to stay as close to Dean as possible.
“You can do something for me, Sam. You can go home and let me deal with this in my own way. When, I'm better, I'll come home to visit. Please, Sammah.” Dean said as he took Sam's hand and looked up at him with his huge wounded liquid green eyes.
“Alright, Dean, but you have to keep the lines of communication open or I'll be on the next flight out to check on you.” Sam said unable to refuse Dean's pleading. He couldn't even remember the last time Dean had called him Sammah and he had sorely missed it.
'Thank you.” Dean said softly and hugged his brother tight.
Sam held Dean close and felt his throat constrict and his eyes prickle with unshed tears. Holding Dean like this was a little slice of heaven and Sam never wanted to let him go.
~*~
The first thing that struck Dean when he walked into his home in San Francisco was the silence. No Dax to rush forward and greet him with a hot kiss. No Dax to tell him how much he'd missed him even if Dean had only been gone for half an hour to run to the market. No Dax, period. Dean let the weight of that settle on his slim shoulders and it pushed him down on his knees. The room seemed to tilt as Dean continued down onto the floor. He laid on his side and drew his knees up to his chest. He began to weep for Dax and for everything else he had lost that night. He cried until all that was left were dry rasping sounds of his breathing.
He was still experiencing pain from some of his injuries and getting off the floor made him grit his teeth. By the time Dean was standing, he was pasty white and shaking. He made his way on unsteady legs to his carry on case and got out his prescriptions. A seed of an awful, damnable idea lodged in Dean's grief ravaged mind as he held up the pill bottles. A rather unpleasant smile crossed Dean's face as he walked slowly towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Dean spent weeks going through Dax's belongings. It seemed everything he touched was attached to a memory. Sometimes he would let himself believe that Dax was just down at the wharf picking up seafood and fresh bread for dinner. He would smile as he thought of Dax breezing in the door with his arms full and a huge grin on his face. Dean would meet him at the door and kiss him, then he'd help him take everything to the kitchen so they could start cooking dinner. The cold reality of his life would set in as he climbed in bed each night alone.
Dean dutifully called John and Sam three times a week. He talked a bit about his grief counseling sessions and support group meetings. He told his dad and brother he was thinking of taking a couple of art classes to fill up some of his spare time. He told them whatever he had to so they would stay in Missouri and leave him alone.
The idea that that taken root in Dean's brain the night he'd returned home had grown and was well tended. Dean found a way to be with Dax soon. The doctor's had all given him what he needed. He had oxycodone, ambien, flexeril, and diazepam to play with. He had gone to two separate doctors one in San Francisco and one in Millbrae so he had double doses of everything. He knew that abusing these drugs would cause organ failure and eventually death which was exactly what he wanted.
Once Dean finished up going through Dax's belongings, he started on his own. He made a lot of donations to local shelters and charitable organizations. He also made a list of who would inherit his possessions when he died. One thing he found a lot of were photos. He decided to organize them by year and put them in albums. Dean was surprised that he actually enjoyed sorting the photos and arranging them in the scrap books. Dean would relive each day that the photos represented and could almost pretend that he and Dax would go on another trip someday soon.
~*~
One year after Dax's death, Dean was feeling and showing some effects from the prescription drug abuse. He would throw up blood several times a week and it wasn't uncommon for him to have blood in his urine. He had odd twitches and tremors that he ignored. His moods were all over the spectrum and he seemed to have less and less control over them. He stopped seeing his counselor and didn't attend his support group anymore. In fact, he only ever left his home to get his prescriptions refilled. Dean was thin, deathly pale and had permanent dark smudges under his eyes. He didn't resemble the vibrant beautiful young man he had been.
He still called John and Sam every Sunday. He had been happy to hear that John had finally moved in with Ellen and they were happy together. Sam was alone now at the ranch house. A part of Dean wanted to go home but the stronger part still wanted to die.
~*~
Two weeks shy of his thirtieth birthday, Dean got the news he had been waiting for. One of his kidneys had stopped functioning and the other wasn't functioning at full capacity. If the deterioration continued, Dean would need dialysis and a kidney transplant or he would die. Dean accepted the news calmly and went home to his lonely house. He had a buyer for the house so he called the man and told him he was ready to sell. Dean had decided he wanted to spend whatever time he had left with Sam. He had been thinking of his brother a lot lately. A part of him still loved Sam. Dean guessed he always would. On february 1st Dean said his final goodbye to Dax before he walked out to the cab that was waiting for him. He went to the airport and boarded the flight that would take him home for the last time.
CRAVE - The Conclusion
