Cracked Shell

Sequel to The Psychic

By Momonster

Fandom: Supernatural pre-S1
Pairings: no permanent pairings at this point
Warnings: Uncharacteristic Dean. Wait for it. Confusion. This will confuse you. again.
Rating: T
Summary: It's been a year since Dean even thought of Christopher Jameson, but when a woman he let himself get too close to is found dead in her home, Dean finds Christopher to be the one making him think.

Dean didn't know what the hell he was thinking – driving about 90 miles on the highway; speeding while confused as fuck wasn't really a smart move - but he knew who could help.

Him. Christopher Jameson.

The Psychic.

Already it had been nearly a year since Dean had last even thought of the other man – thinking about bright green eyes, luscious lips and long silky hair always gave him a boner – and after he'd managed to find that werewolf's trail, he'd flushed the other man out of his thoughts.

At least, he thought he did.

But, not completely.

Pure unadulterated panic had caught Dean by the balls, and in his confusion and horror, Christopher's voice had replayed in his memory.

"What else can you do?" Dean asked before he left.

Christopher merely watched Dean tidy his clothing before getting back into Dean's personal space. "For you? Well. It depends on what you need. I'm sure if you came by again, you'd find out."

A little over a week ago, Dean had gotten a call from an old flame. They'd traveled through a few states together before Dean dropped the girl, Jennifer Whilton, back to her home.

Jennifer had asked him to stay, but he couldn't, and she ended their relationship.

Now she'd called him back, begging for his help. Someone had killed her father, and then desecrated his grave. Now someone was leaving threatening notes around her house, breaking in when she was gone. She wanted him by her side, for comfort and protection.

He'd found her on the floor of her bedroom when he'd arrived, her insides gone, everything else spilled out on the floor around her.

He'd seen many things in his time as a Hunter, but nothing could have prepared him for the horror in her eyes.

He couldn't call his dad, John wouldn't help.

Dean's only other turn was someone who'd helped him before.

Christopher Jameson knew Dean was coming the moment the Winchester crossed the line of his Wards and entered the city.

Dean didn't know it yet, but there was a reason why Christopher was where he was, so easily accessible to any passing person...or Hunter.

Dean wasn't the first Hunter to find his humble abode, nor the first to use his talents; or be slightly coerced into it either.

But he was one of the few to willingly come back. Not many Hunters willingly asked for help, and when they did, they only asked other Hunters. A truly suspicions lot of people, not that Christopher could blame them for being so.

But now - as Dean drove closer and closer to his location - Christopher could feel something different about the man from the first time they had met. It was a subtle thing, a slight shift in his aura, but it was enough to alarm Christopher the moment Dean shoved the doors to his home open, staring into the house with wide hazel green eyes.

"Jameson!"

Christopher ducked his head through the doorway that connected the kitchen to his sitting area. "Dean Winchester."

Panic. Pure unadulterated panic and shock danced along Dean's Aura in a visible swirl, utterly destroying the cocky arrogance Dean had been filled with when they'd first met.

The look on Dean's face answered all of Christopher's questions, and without another word Chris had latched onto Dean's leather covered arm, dragging him into his living room.

Dean blinked as he was forced to sit down, a tumbler of liquid pressed into his hand. "Drink."

Dean shook his head, fighting to get back on his feet. "Look man I don't' have time for this."

"Dean Winchester." Christopher intoned. "Sit your ass down. Drink it."

Eyes wide, Dean did as ordered and took a sip from the glass as Christopher made himself comfortable on the coffee table in front of the dirty blond.

"Now. What's wrong?"

Dean sighed heavily, taking another chug from the glass. "About a week ago, I got a call from a girl I knew back in Oregon. She was scared for her life. She doesn't know what I do, but knew I was strong, would protect her. See her father was murdered a few weeks back, they never found his killer. After he was buried, his grave was desecrated; dug up, his body cut open, organs and other bits were missing. At first the police apparently had thought it was the murderer who had done the desecrating, but a few days after that Jennifer - the girl - her house was broken into. Jennifer was home, and swore it was her father coming home, until a neighbor who was with her at the time screamed and got them out the back door. When they came back with police, there was no sign of anyone. Jennifer thinks the murderer is after her next, and is playing with her; she asked me to stay with her. Well, I had nothing pressing to do and went over." Dean pressed one hand to his hair. "But when I got there, she was dead. Laid out on the ground with her stomach ripped open, her ribs were torn out and left on the floor beside her. And I have no clue what to do. Is this my kind of thing? Is this a hunt? Should I even step in? I can't call my dad he'd chew me up for even caring-"

"Then your father's an asshole, Dean."

Dean started, looking back up to Christopher with an angry expression in his eyes, only to freeze when warm hands pulled the tumbler from his hands, then pressed against his jaw, Christopher gazing down at Dean with an odd expression on his face, soft, almost caring.

"If this girl knew you enough that she called you to help make her feel safe then there was a relationship between the both of you, no? You're letting that relationship cloud your judgment, which is something completely human; so don't you dare beat yourself up over it, understand me?" Dean nodded slowly. "Now, I expect that you came here hoping to get some advice and a reading, right? Well I don't think you actually need a reading."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, only for the hands on his neck to tighten momentarily.

"You already spoke to me more information than you would have received from a reading, Dean. You already most likely know all you need to, you just need to think. Now. You had said she wanted protection because her father's grave was desecrated. You had mentioned parts of the body were missing, do you know what?"

Dean blinked up at the dark haired man, but shook his head lightly, grabbing onto Christopher's hands. "Um, most of the fleshy meat, like the intestines, parts of the muscle on both arms and legs were gone as well..."

"Was it the same on Jennifer?" Christopher asked softly, and Dean nodded, face pale.

"It...It was like she had been eaten alive." Dean revealed softly, and Christopher let his jaw go, instead pulling Dean into a hug.

"So two victims, both with the same section of their body missing, you think she was eaten. Means it's a man eater. Obviously your field, right?" Christopher teased lightly, gaining a slight chuckle from his chest. "Now. What monsters eat humans?"

"Werewolves go for the heart, but it's the wrong time of the month." Christopher snorted. "...Wendigo, but wrong area. Vampires only go after blood, and they'd poison themselves drinking from the dead. Ghosts don't do shit like this; what eats people?...Ghouls. It fits...though I thought they'd only feed on dead flesh…" Christopher pulled back from Dean, watching the light flicker in his eyes as the Hunter in him woke.

"Then that means you need to go back and make sure, research the area."

Dean nodded distractedly as he stood. Chris watched him walk towards the doors with a distracted look on his face, before the Winchester turned back around, waving a hand. "Why don't you come with me?"

Christopher blinked once, before with a shaky smile shook his head. "I'd love to...but I can't."

"Why not?"

"Dean...remember something I said when we first met?" Dean tilted his head slightly, and Christopher sighed. "I haven't left this house in your lifetime, Dean Winchester." Dean blinked, and Christopher curled in on himself slightly. "I wasn't kidding. I am bound to this house...I can't leave."

Dean tilted his head. "And why not?"

Christopher shook his head. "I think that's a question for another day, Dean. And you have work to do. How about...I'll explain the next time you visit."

"But-" Christopher lifted a hand, cutting him off. "I promise. Now, go do your job, Dean."

Mk, slight A/N rant for anyone willing to read this.

…So. I had planned to cut this fic off from canon at 7x02, right?

I just saw parts 7x17. And freaked out. Now I have no clue what I'm going to do. I know this fic is FAR from there, but my outline is also FAR FROM HERE. *throws hands up* I have plenty of time, so peoples, WHAT SHOULD I DO?

Do you all want the FEELS scene of Castiël's return and subsequent insanity? DX

If you thought it was bad before I can make it sooo much worse.