Holy crap! I thought I posted this weeks ago. My bad.
Steve let out a growl of frustration when his geographical profile of possible hunter locations came up with a location in the middle of nowhere. Literally. Nothing but miles of empty fields. Not a lake in sight. What. The. Hell.
He must be doing something wrong, but what? Double, even triple checking, Steve tried once more to find a central location by crunching the numbers again that could point him to one of Dean's hunter friends. Maybe he screwed up with the math. He does think he's getting close to finding a hunter though. Steve sighed explosively before crunching the numbers again and came up with an actual town this time: Blue Earth.
Fuck it. He's going there. It's the best he has at this point.
Steve took down all the news clipping he had on the hotel wall and carefully packed them up because he might be wrong about Blue Earth. It's just easier to have everything ready to be tacked up should that happen but he doesn't think he's wrong. The place feels like it's the right one. He just hopes he's not too late.
The eleven hours it took for Steve to drive to Blue Earth felt longer than it should have. He made minimal stops but it still feels like it took him days instead of hours. Nerves maybe? Making the drive feel like he was in a time dilation field where seconds took hours, minutes took days, and hours took years. Kind of like being near the core of a black hole. He's stretching into infinity, dying molecule by molecule without noticing because time moves so slowly, eons could pass before he moves a single centimeter, and that centimeter could be his last.
Huffing out a laugh, Steve shook his head and promised that if Blue Earth doesn't pan out, he'd take a couple days to rest before continuing his search for his missing boyfriend. He's not giving up, and there's a part of him that is thrilled at the thought of finding Dean by using his smarts and knowledge of the hunter's way of thinking.
He's hunting the hunter.
Pulling into the first hotel he sees, Steve decided to wash off the smell of the road and a rental that seriously needs to be aired out. Once he's all washed up, he'll check out the local library and maybe talk to the local church dude/person about anyone who stands out as a loner and really loves guns.
...Okay, he'll work on wording his questions before hand. Because what he just said didn't really narrow down the suspect pool, in fact, the question might actually put a target on the loner types who like to hunt - game, not monsters. Danny and Chin worked hard for Steve to tactfully ask questions when looking for a suspect. They still won't let him live it down that his line of questioning lead them chasing down every single amateur hunter on the entire island chain when their suspect wasn't even a hunter. Man, never touched a gun in his life. Not even a potato gun!
His team wasn't happy with him for a month and made him do all the paper work. But he's a fast learner and was real careful how he worded his questions after that.
The room was cool and clean, kind of small though. It does not bode well for the bathroom. If it's no bigger than a broom closet, Steve's trying a new hotel because he's not showering in a glass coffin. With trepidation, Steve opened the bathroom door and felt his jaw drop open in surprise.
The damn bathroom is almost as big as the actual room. Thank god. Steve quickly stripped out of his smelly clothes, turned on the shower, turning the knobs until the temperature was just right before stepping under the hot spray of water. He let out a groan of appreciation at the feeling of hot cascading water down his tired and sore body. One wouldn't think that sitting in a car damn near all the time wouldn't be so taxing on his muscles, but the lower half of his body is loudly voicing its complaints.
He stood under the spray for a couple of minutes, enjoying the feeling before he got to work cleaning the grime of the road of his body. His skin turned pink from the heat of the water and the vigorous scrubbing he was giving it.
A memory of Dean showering, not anything special about it. It was just a normal day, Dean getting ready for work and Steve, on the rarest of days, had the morning off, and Steve watched him with sleepy eyes, endulging in this moment of domesticity. Dean grinned at him through the shower before washing off the soap he lathered up, making the room smell crisp like morning rain in the mountains. He has no idea what brand of soap it is or what it's even called but the smell of rain always reminds him of Dean, which is a problem because it rains a lot in Hawaii.
He's doing the right thing, he knows he is. With his head all messed up, Steve could put his team in harm's way, but it doesn't stop him feeling like he's running away. He's not. He has every intention of going back to the islands, with or without Dean in tow.
Steve grimaced when he found a towel that wasn't as clean as it should be. The hotel cleaning staff get a D on cleanliness of towels.
Tossing the still dirty towel on the ground, Steve made sure the next one didn't have any suspicious spots on it before wiping the water of his face with it and the rest of his body. He used a different towel to dry off his hair and placed both of them back on the towel rack to use again later.
Jaw popping from a monstrous yawn, Steve debated taking a cat nap so he'd be refreshed for the upcoming line of questioning about any possible hunters being the area. He'll need to look respectable so his questions won't be seem as crazy as they are. He learned that little tidbit through Dean's stories of questioning grieving families and hysterical witnesses. They're more likely to speak openly with an understanding ear and with someone who doesn't think they're nutso.
He's going to have to remember he won't have Chin and Kono so smooth things over for him should he inadvertantly insult them or hurt their feelings. He's still working on his bedside manner.
Rome wasn't built in a day.
ALK
Steve felt like slamming his head against his rental's steering wheel. People are keeping thier mouths shut and shooting him suspicious glares. It's not like he can tell them he's looking for a hunter to talk to, they'll think he's after the hunter for legal reasons, and not to apologize for being a dumbass to his boyfriend.
A couple who were being plagued by a poltergeist all but slammed their door in his face when they realized his line of questioning were heading. The couple did, however, reveal that they told their problem to the local pastor, needing someone to know and to tell them they're not crazy. And not a couple of days later their problem went away, according to article Steve found about a grave desecration. They've been devout parishoners ever since and donate a lot of money each Sunday.
Even Steve's questionable math skills could put 2 + 2 together.
A yawn threatened to escape and Steve took another drink of coffee to keep him awake. If he leaves now, no detours, he can make it to the church and have a quick conversation with this pastor. Might even get a lead on where Dean is.
Exhaustion ate at him, but not the physical kind, he's used to that one, but more of the emotional kind. He's not as practiced at emotional exhaustion and it's kicking his ass.
Steve rubbed the sleep from his eyes before starting up his beige rental and drove to the local church, finding a parking spot was surprisingly hard to do. He checked the calender to make sure it wasn't Sunday because he doesn't think he lost a day but then again, he has been out of it this past week. Or would it be two days? Okay, so maybe Steve lost time somewhere.
Spotting a parking spot near the back of the church, Steve pulled in and decided to wait in his car until whatever's going on ended. He's not crashing a possible funeral. His parents taught him better than that. Or he taught himself. His memories of his parents are tinged with hurt and betrayal to be certain who taught him that.
Hell, for all he knows, he learned it from Mary.
An hour passes before people start to exit the church, and it's another thirty before the stragglers and gossipers leave the parking lot and allow Steve to find the pastor. If he's lucky, Steve could be in bed in the next hour. The siren call his hotel bed was making is a hard song to ignore, even for a SEAL who's been trained to ignore exhaustion until the mission is complete. After that, he can crash for as long as he wants or until he gets assigned a new mission. He feels like he's in the middle of the most gruelling mission of his life. He'll be able to rest soon.
As in sleep. Not in peace. He will not be resting in peace anytime in the near future.
Steve shook his head again. His mind wandered from the original path... and for the life of him he can't remember what he was just thinking about. Dean related? Nah, if it was he would remember. At least he thinks. Steve's memory at this point in time should not be trusted.
Wait. Did his last thought structure make any sense? Steve's blanking out. God, he must be tired. Okay, okay. After speaking to the pastor, Steve is sleeping for a solid day with no interruptions.
Emotional exhaustion is no joke.
Steve waited until the last car pulled out of the parking lot and its tail lights disappeared down the street, and no other car was in sight. Perfect. Hopefully that'll mean he'll have uninterrrupted time to ask the pastor all the questions he can about Dean and his whereabouts.
Taking a minute to make sure he doesn't look like he slept in his car, Steve walked through the church doors and found an empty church. No one is in the front room. Maybe the pastor is in the back, that's where they sleep, right? Steve's knowledge of the church is slim. His family wasn't that big into religion when he was a kid and he hadn't seen the need to find God when he was on his most grueling and dangerous missions that made him question whether or not he's doing the right thing and seemed to last for a life time. So why start now?
"Hello?" Steve called out hesitantly. The doors creaked shut behind him, and he did not jump when they did.
His footsteps didn't make a sound on the carpeted interior. The stained glass windows depicted angels and the fall of Lucifer, and further on down an angel stood fiercely in front of a human bathed in white, protecting him against dark shadows, which Steve assumed was demons. They were pressing in on all sides but the angel's expression spoke of defiance and held a wild ferocity that Steve himself wore when he found himself in the midst of battle with bloodlust singing through his veins.
That expression spoke of a warrior willing to fight until his last breath.
Steve found himself under the stained glass, hand reaching up to touch it when he heard someone clear their voice behind him. Jerking back as if burned, Steve spun around to see an older man staring at him with a peculiar expression.
"Hello," the man greeted. He came to stand next to Steve and the stained glass window. He stared up at the window and had a smile on his face. "The Righteous Man," the man told him. "It is said that the angels when come when the Righteous Man is needed. Of course, that's not good for us," he said with a wink.
"Why not?" asked Steve, his gaze switched from the man back to the window.
"Because when the Righteous Man is needed, the end is nigh," he said with a teasing grin. "Lucifer will be freed and he and Michael will battle for dominion for Earth."
Steve frowned. "What's that have to do with the Righteous Man?"
"He will be Michael's greatest weapon. Or so the texts say. I, for one, think he will be the one that holds our fate in his hands." The pastor, Steve is assuming, stared at the picture with something akin to wistfulness and slight apprehension. "The final battle will be fought between brothers and sisters, and it will be brutal. The Righteous Man is key to that. The funny thing about all the biblical texts I've read on the subject, none of the authors, not even Metatron, know exactly what the purpous of the Righteous Man will be.
"A weapon, but how? How will this man decide our fates? What exactly is he a key to? There are so many questions I have about the subject but no one seems to have any answers. My prayers have gone unanswered." The pastor sighed and gave Steve a wan smile. "Apologies. I've been dealing with some family problems. I should not be placing my questions of God's plan on you. Is there something I can help you with?"
Steve shrugged off the pastor's words. "I'm looking for someone. I'm hoping you know where he is."
"Oh?" the pastor said, intrigued. "And who are you looking for?"
"Dean Winchester."
"Oh." This time the pastor's tone sounded hesitant.
Bingo, Steve thought with a hidden grin.
"And what do you want with this person?" the pastor asked with forced nonchalance. Steve didn't buy his act for a second. This is the person that Dean's friends with.
"His father stole him away from me, with the help of his demonic giant of a younger brother, and I would like him back," Steve said simply. "I don't think they're saying very nice things about me to him and I'd like to have a chance to defend myself against their accusations."
The pastor sighed tiredly. "You're McGarrett."
"I'm McGarrett."
"John told me what he did."
"And? Will you tell me where Dean is? I really need to find him and apologize," Steve said earnestly. "Plus, I think getting Dean away from his family would be in his best interest."
The pastor sighed again. "It would," he agreed, "but I honestly have no idea where they are. They left a week ago without warning. I woke up to an empty house and no note as to where they were going. Both of those boys are not in the right headspace. John's taking advantage of that."
Steve let out a growl of frustration.
"You know, the more I hear about John Winchester, the less I like him. At first I gave him the benefit of the the doubt but the more stories Dean told about his childhood, the less inclined I was to be lenient with Dean's dad's decisions. If Dean really isn't in the right mindset, then it's imperative that I find him and extract him."
The pastor smiled at Steve but it was tinged with something dark. "Taking away John Winchester's son may not end well for any of you. John loves those boys more than he loves himself."
"That isn't saying much," Steve cut in, earning an amused smirk and a nod of agreement.
"True, but John will go to the ends of the earth for his boys, and he'll take any enemy head on without hesitation. He thinks the best place for them is with him. He's dead set on keeping his boys safe."
"But Dean was safe with me," Steve argued. "He was happy. We were happy."
"And," the pastor prompted gently.
"And then we weren't," admitted Steve sadly. "I don't know why Dean started keeping things from me, becoming closer with my partner, and pulling away from me. I felt him pulling away but I didn't do anything about it until it was too late. Our wires got crossed or something." Steve ran his hands through his hair and focused on window with the Righteous Man. "Sam showing up didn't help the situation at all. In fact, Sam made it worse. On purpose. But when he finally decided to do the right thing with Dean, it was too late." Steve sighed. "Dean opened his heart to me, and I laughed. Bad timing on my part," he admitted sheepishly.
"You laughed," the pastor repeated incredulously. He knows Dean, and Dean opening up like that is a miracle in itself. "I have half a mind to slap you upside the head."
Steve gave a small chuckle. "I would deserve it," he admitted freely.
"But you weren't the only one at fault, were you?"
"No. Dean hid things from me instead of talking about it. We both messed up."
The pastor stared at him with an unidentifiable emotion. It had Steve fighting the urge to look away and shift his weight in a fit of nerves, but something in him said hold his ground, it might pay off. The pastor grinned in approval.
"John's looking for an easy hunt to ease the boys back into the rhythm of hunting together again. I over heard him talking to Dean about a possible hunt in Nebraska. A salt-and-burn, I think. Easy for a couple of experienced hunters, even if one of them hasn't hunted in a year."
"Sam went on a hunt a couple months ago," Steve corrected bitterly.
Steve tensed when the pastor placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder but he didn't shrug it off or move away.
"Sam was never good at sharing his brother's attention," the pastor grinned, his eyes fond and far away, recalling a memory of two little boys galavanting around his house. "He pouted and threw a fit when he realized Dean was interested in something else. Dean always responded to Sam's tantrums. I should have realized it would come to bite Dean in the ass when he got older."
"So should've Dean."
Silence fell for a second before the pastor admitted, "So he should have."
They stared at the Righteous Man, each absorbed in their own thoughts of the middle Winchester.
The pastor's story of the Righteous Man settled in Steve's mind like a warm blanket, coating every square inch. For some reason he thought of Dean when the pastor weaved the tale, and it fit the narrative well. Steve liked the idea of an angel watching over his hunter, but he wouldn't want the destiny of the Righteous Man on Dean's shoulders.
Just, no.
"Nebraska, huh?" Steve said, breaking the silence. The pastor nodded his head. "Well, that narrows it down."
Huffing a laugh, the pastor turned and held out his hand for Steve to shake. "It was very nice meeting you, McGarrett."
"It was nice meeting you, too, Pastor..." Steve trailed off, unsure if the man introduced himself or not.
"Jim. I'm Pastor Jim," he introduced himself. "I apologize. I thought I told you my name." He frowned and shook his head. "The situation with the Winchesters has really turned my head. I don't like seeing either of those boys hurt, be it emotional or physical or both."
Was that last statement pointed? It sounded pointed to Steve.
"Nebraska is the only information I have for you, McGarrett."
Steve nodded. "I'll be off." He has a lot of planning to do. And sleep. Sleep is very much of a need right now. Sleep is good. Sleep is his friend. ...He is babbling to himself and not very coherently at that. Great, he's confusing his own mind with thoughts that are kind of babble-y.
"Bed," Steve said suddenly. He shook Pastor Jim's hand again before strutting towards the doors and threw them open, breathing in the night air and even said a mental hello to Mars, an old friend of his that got him through the Navy and some tours that he'd rather not think about when he's this exhausted. Any defenses he has will be at an all time low, nightmares will run rampant and he'd have no control over them. He'd be left at their mercy and they are not merciful.
ALK
Steve rolled his neck to work out the kinks, his shoulders still felt tense. He has no recollection of of the drive back to the hotel, nor him getting ready for bed. He just woke up well rested two days later. He freaking slept for two days!
The memory of leaving the church and Pastor Jim also elude him.
He hopes he didn't make too much of a fool of himself. He'd hate to think he embarrassed himself in front of Dean's friend, he wanted to make a good impression with the man, and he's not sure he pulled it off. Steve never should have gone to see the pastor while he's all loopy from exhaustion, he probably made the pastor think he wasn't the brightest casing in the clip.
Stretching, Steve let out a pleased groan when that delicious tingly feeling that accompanies the act radiated throughout his body. He'd been sitting too long.
Research for anything that goes bump in the night is a lot harder than he thought it would be. He's done research before, and finding terrorists in caves is a lot easier than what he's looking for. Who knew hunting for monsters and ghost would be so difficult?
The thing is, Steve has no idea if the articles he found are bizarre accidents, crackpot stories, actual animal attacks, or if it is the work of supernatural creatures. He's so out of depth in this but he's not giving up. All he needs to find is one confirmable hunt and then he'd know just what to look for next time, at least for that particular creature. There's also a surprsingly amount of deaths that are just straight up unexplainable.
How in the hell does Dean know what's a hunt and what isn't?
God, he really wishes Dean didn't quit hunting when they were living together, at least then Steve would know what the hell to look for. He wouldn't be floundering so much if he had some basic knowledge to work with.
Oh great, he's blaming Dean for not knowing how to pick out hunts in news articles. Can he get any lower?
Please, the Universe, don't answer that. He's being rhetorical.
Man Dies Alone in Locked Room. Hmm, sounds promising. Could be a ghost or something of the like. Steve might have found a hunt. Something at least that might interest Dean or his family.
His next port-of-call: Nebraska.
ALK
John swore loudly when the hunt they were on turned out to be a practical joke gone wrong.
Stupid ass frat boys, John thought darkly. Nebraska is a bust, and his boys are getting antsy. Well, at least Sam is, he has that look about him that is just itching to kill something. Not that Sam'll ever admit it. Oh no, Sam is above such compulsions. It is beneath him to feel the siren song of bloodlust because he is a "civilized" person who has no such urging to sate the desire to kill.
Dean really should have let him train Sam as he trained Dean because if John had trained Sam how he wanted to, Sam wouldn't be such a spoiled brat.
...That sounds likes one of those tongue twisters.
As for Dean, he hasn't said a goddamn word. He follows orders without hesitation or questions. He cleans their weapons without being asked, finds the best places to eat for them, finds lodgings that won't make them feel like they're in a Hitchcock film, and John is starting to go crazy from his obedience.
It's different when Dean chooses to obey John's every order, it's another thing when he's doing it as a defense mechanism. Not that John and Sam don't deserve it.
For the life of him, John cannot remember what pulled Dean out of his muteness the first time around. He's been racking his brain since the night they picked Sam up from Stanford and Dean barely even grumbled at them.
He's not even sure Dean's doing it as a defensive mechanism, he might be doing it as a new form of punishment for John and Sam, and it's working. Sam has been going out of his way to make Dean talk to him, even volunteering to do food runs or research so Dean could relax. Hell, at one hotel, Sam offered to sleep on the tiny couch so Dean wouldn't have to share the bed or be relegated to the couch instead. Say what you will about Dean, but he is damn good at tugging at the guilt he and Sam are harboring.
John even bought Dean a brand new handgun with an ivory handle. The only reaction he got was a small - minute really - smile of thanks.
It was the most positive reaction he got out of his oldest in a few days.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, John sighed loudly before pulling into Dean's favorite burger joint to get his boys dinner. Sam won't like it but that's just fine with John. Dean's the one he wants happy, a first, yes, he knows, and he knows just how fucked up that is. Tomorrow Sam can do the food run if he wants to complain. In fact, he can do all the food runs for all John cares.
He just wants Dean to say one goddamn word to him. Anything! Anything at all.
Just say something.
ALK
Dean waited until Sam and their dad left before letting out a low chuckle. Oh god, he should have thought of this years ago. They're actually getting along and basically mollycoddling him, although they'll never admit it. It's nice. Different but nice.
Plus, Dean got a new gun. God, he loves it!
If only he knew giving them this brand of silent treatment would have gotten a new gun and getting his favorite foods, he so would have done this every time they fought. They would have made up and done their best to make Dean speak to them again.
The idea popped into his head somewhere in Wyoming. Despite what his dad thinks, Dean does remember the first year after his mom died, and he remembers not speaking because every time he tried, the words just went away. He also remembers how his dad, despite hurting from the loss of his wife, did everything he could to make Dean feel safe again and did his best to take care of Sammy on top of trying to put their lives back together.
There is a reason why Dean, for so long, thought his dad was a superhero. He remembers everything his dad did for them their first year without mom. Even after he found out about demons and monsters and such, his dad made them feel safe for a little while.
His need for vengeance is what ruined it. They could have had a happy life. Dad could have found another wife and he and Sam would have been happy and safe and oblivious to the paranormal.
But they would have also been easy pray for monsters and demons. It's a catch-22 situation.
Once marked by supernatural forces, they're marked for life. If their dad buried his head in the sand, who knows what could have happened to him and Sam while growing up. They could have been perfectly fine or they could have been killed. And that's the reason Dean doesn't blame their dad for raising how he did. They're alive because of that and they know how to handle themselves with monsters and such.
But for the love of God, Dad really needs to learn how to loosen the reins just a smidge.
He was doing great by letting Sam remain in school instead of pulling him out and locking him at Bobby's or Caleb's house and by letting Dean stay in Hawaii for over a year. Maybe that's why he's freaking out so much now. He barely leaves them alone now. Hell, Sam leaving in a huff prompted John to take off after him, after internally debating about leaving Dean all alone, like, where would Dean go? They're taking the Impala, and he ain't walking anywhere. Not in this town. Besides, there's nothing to do here. Even the bar looks boring.
Dean pulled out his cellphone, scrolled down to Steve's contact, tapped the messaging button, and just stared at it, unsure what to write. He misses Steve like nothing else. Why did he have to act like such a baby? He could be happy back in Oahu.
The time on his phone tells him he would be working the afternoon lull at Kamekona's. He and Catherine would most likely be planning their next hiking adventure for the weekend. Chin and Kono would be working on teaching him how to ride a motorcycle and surfing, respectively. Not that Chin can't surf but Kono was a surfing champion.
He and Danny would be bickering over football and Grace would be filming them before posting the video online for everyone's amusement. And he and Steve would be indulging in domestic bliss.
Why the fuck did he overreact? Why would he pull away from Steve and grow closer with Danny? God, he was such an ass back then. He should just leave. Withdraw all of Roman Cahill's money and buy a one-way ticket to Oahu and beg for foregiveness. He'd do anything to get his ohana back.
Dean sent a short text to Steve: Marco.
Barely three seconds after the text was sent, he got messaged back. Polo.
A grin broke out on Dean's face. It was wide and happy.
Steve's coming.