"That's the place" Dean announced as he looked at the small cabin.
Cas frowned. "It is not exactly what I pictured" he admitted as Dean got out of the car.
"Did you think he should have been rocking the whole secret hideout thing? With like a secret cave so no one could find him?" Dean teased him as they moved toward it, to calm his nerves as well as Cas'.
"No". Somehow, even when they were throwing themselves into danger, Cas could still scowl at him adorably. Dean swallowed.
"I just expected him to have set up some form of security system".
"Could still have one. Not all cameras are visible, and don't get me started on microphones and possible alarms."
James was tempted to ask when he saw Dean check out the cabin. His history must be even more difficult than he had let on if he knew how to do that. He of course didn't believe in a second that Dean had ever done anything illegal (well, except when it came to feed himself and his brother when they were children, perhaps, and considering James had been born in 1935, he knew the crippling hunger that would cause someone to do anything to feel full again).
Yet he was worried. What exactly was he dragging Dean into? He had been thinking about it since yesterday, and he had yet failed to find an answer.
Just please let this end well. Then i will find LAngleben on my own and get this over with.
"So what do we do?"
Dean shrugged.
"I suppose we... knock?"
"Won't that make him suspicious?"
"Not as much as loitering about his place will. Gangsters are notoriously paranoid, and if he has cameras, or has already spotted us, standing around here won't help. Let's go."
They advanced cautiously.
"Just remember" Dean said, "Let me do the talking".
"And you remember to be careful" James told him sternly. Dean smirked.
"What would be the fun in that?"
James shook his head as Dean knocked.
When the door opened, he was surprised.
When he had heard the man they were looking for was called "the Old Man" he had expected someone in his fifties, not someone seemingly younger than him (currently) or Dean. There was an odd look in his eyes, though, as if he had already seen more than James ever would. He was instantly on edge as his eyes travelled from Dean to him.
"What can I do for you?"
He didn't appear concerned at all.
"We need information" Dean said simply. James almost reached out to stop him, then remembered that he did indeed know better than him, and the Old Man didn't look concerned. He just kept studying them with the same unreadable gaze.
"What kind of information?"
"Not about you, or any of your work, don't worry. We need to find someone, and I have it on good authority that you are the one to ask. We'll pay, don't worry."
James would pay him back. He had more than enough money saved up; come to think of it, he had been an idiot not to insist on using it immediately. How could he have allowed this?
Because, when it came to Dean Winchester, he had never been able to think straight.
The Old Man was studying James now, his eyes piercing through him. James suddenly had the strange and impossible thought that he knew. But no – there was no way he could. James could hardly believe himself what had happened, even after the last few days. Even after kissing Dean.
"Come in" he said calmly. James' instincts screamed at him not to obey, but what choice do they have? Still, he tried to give Dean a look that indicated he should stay behind. If he understood, he didn't react at all. He simply stepped in, and James had no choice but to follow.
The room they entered was small and comfortable; three doors led away from it, more than James would have expected from such a simple cabin.
It was colder than he had thought it would be, as well.
"My apologies for the temperature. I do prefer not to interfere with the forces of nature, especially around water."
"I did hear you love the lake" Dean supplied. James wondered if it was the right thing to say – it could implicate Benny, after all – but apparently he managed to set up some sort of rapport. The Old Man smiled.
"That is true. There is something calming about water, don't you think?"
"There is" James agreed unthinkingly. "Earth, sky, and water, are you with me? Speak".
"I didn't think anyone read James Merrill, these days."
"I could say the same."
Dean cleared his throat.
"Anyway, let's get back to the topic at hand."
The Old Man turned to look at him.
"Indeed. You said you were trying to find someone? I could help you. I have many contacts."
"Let's just say, we owe someone money, and we have to find him."
"Normally, it is the other way around."
"Just trying to get ahead of payments" Dean said simply.
"So who is it?"
"Patrick Langleben" Dean replied evenly. Only James noticed the change in the Old Man's demeanour at the name. His shoulders tensed and he looked at him again, a calculating look in his eyes.
"Do you only enjoy James Merrill, or are the other poets of the same decade you read as well?"
And suddenly, James was sure.
He knew.
He couldn't imagine how, but he knew. He knew what had happened.
"Can you help us?" Dean asked instead.
"All in its right time. Patrick Langleben is a difficult man to find. Have you looked through all the casinos and gambling places in town? He prefers a... private environment. But I am sure you can tell us all about that."
James met his gaze calmly. "I'm afraid not. The circumstances were... more complicated."
"I am sure they were."
There was something decidedly unsettling about his manners; as if he was much, much older than –
James had been stupid. So very, very stupid.
There was one reason, and one reason only, why the Old Man would suspect, why he would ever think James had become younger by ways he could not even begin to understand.
And why he would choose to call himself the Old Man to begin with.
Because he was older than he was, much older.
James wasn't the only one this had happened to.
Only, if he had been a betting man, he would have been ready to bet that the Old Man had sought this fate.
"Dean..." he began slowly. When their eyes met, he glanced at the door.
Dean understood immediately.
"So... you have no idea where he might be holed up?"
"I might, but only if I may talk to your friend alone."
James was sure that confrontation wouldn't end well.
"Nah" Dean announced, "I have always been terribly jealous."
The Old Man raised his eyebrows.
"I assure you I have no ulterior motives."
"See, I find that difficult to believe" Dean pointed out. "Otherwise it hardly seems worth your time to separate us."
The Old Man stood up and took a few steps toward Dean. James admired his neighbour standing is ground instead of moving back.
"You have no idea, have you?" he asked. "You have no idea what he is."
"Don't go all psycho on me. I know quite enough, thank you" Dean bit back.
The Old Man chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."
James quickly moved so he stood closer to Dean. He didn't want him to get between them.
"Have you considered telling him? After all, he is your boyfriend. Does he know – "
"There ain't nothing Cas could tell me that I would be interested in if you think I oughta know, pal" Dean interrupted him.
"In that case, I am afraid I will have to use force."
Dean snorted. "Good luck. It's two against – "
One of the doors sprang open as three tall, well-built men rushed in. They had no time to react before the first barrelled into Dean; James barely managed to avoid the second one.
During the sixties, he had taken a few bartitsu classes until he had been quite efficient, and now muscle memory kicked in as the third man grabbed at him.
Meanwhile, the Old Man stood by, watching them fight.
It made James unexpectedly angry. He knew instinctively that this criminal was much older than him. How often had he won years from people? And yet he let others fight his battles.
He kicked the man in the ribs; he staggered back. James used the moment to his advantage by sweeping his legs to the side, causing him to fall down on the floor; he quickly scrambled over and smashed his head down with enough force to knock him out but hopefully not enough to cause damage.
Dean had taken on the two remaining men at the same time; while he was holding out, he would have no doubt eventually have been overpowered if James had not thrown himself into the back of one of them without thinking, allowing Dean to move the other further down the room and eventually knock him out with a bottle containing a small ship that he burst over the man's head.
He turned around to see Cas slamming the last guy into the nearest wall and went to help him.
When he dropped down on the floor, due to Dean having attacked his knees from behind, Cas grabbed him by the hair and knocked his head against the wall. He stopped moving.
They stared at one another, panting heavily.
"Dude, that was awesome. I had no idea you could fight like that."
"You appear to be quite proficient at it as well."
"Yeah, well... Let's just get out of here."
The Old Man had vanished.
They returned to the Impala quickly and drove off, Dean ignoring any speed signs.
"At least he doesn't know our names" he said. "And I doubt he'll trouble himself with looking for us, unless..." he trailed off.
"Unless?" James asked, already knowing what was coming. Even though he trusted him, Dean had to think about what the man had said. After all, he had just risked his life for who he thought was Castiel Novak, his neighbour's nephew.
"Nah. Forget it. It's not important" Dean immediately deflected.
"Dean – "
"He was just trying to distract us – "
"Dean – "
"Don't think about it, I'm sorry – "
"Dean" he stated. He had a right to know. Even if he thought James was crazy, he had to know.
"Perhaps you should stop the car".