Sam opened the door and slid into the back seat of the Impala; Dean watched his brother in the rearview mirror, expecting the look, the "what the hell have you gotten us into this time" roll of his eyes. Dean shrugged and gave Sam his best "hey, not my fault some witch fucked with us" lip curl.
"Sam, meet Hansel. Hansel, my baby brother, Sam." He grinned when Sam caught the way Hansel smirked at Dean. That one earned him the "oh my god did you already fuck him?" eyebrow raise from the back seat. Sam extended his hand and shook the one Hansel offered.
"Always good to have an experienced hunter when we're dealing with a coven," he said, being his usual polite self. Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing, chuckling instead.
"Hansel's very … experienced … when it comes to witch killing." God, he enjoyed giving his brother grief and, for added pleasure, he got to make Hansel blush again.
"Dean." Hansel ducked his head, not meeting Sam's eyes. For his part, Sam gave Dean the "oh my god you are such a jerk" poke on his shoulder.
"Can you grow up for just a minute and focus on the case?" Sam chided; yeah, Dean probably should do that. But Hansel was just such an easy target … and a nice looking one too. "I found out quite a bit about Cassandra, aka Helen Telmon. She's a nurse at the local hospital. Specializes in pediatric trauma care."
"Kids. She works with sick kids?" Dean shook his head, feeling the familiar anger in his gut. "Bitch."
"Yeah, it gets better. She's lived here for over ten years; everyone knows she travels to various Fairs around the country, so it's no surprise that she was in Virginia. Volunteers at an afterschool program at the local elementary school; she tutors kids at her own home through a government program. People seem to think she's frickin' Mother Teresa or something." Sam added.
"Mother Teresa?" Hansel asked, confused.
"Helped the poor and healed the sick. A nun who's now a saint." He turned back to Sam. "All of which is a great way to get her hands on kids. So why take them from the Fair and not grab ones in town?"
"Because I'm here? There has to be a reason she did this, other than just to get me out of the way." Hansel was thinking out loud, falling easily into the brothers' brainstorming.
"Well, one thing for sure, she needs the whole coven together for this spell, and the woman she was with isn't from around here. She lives in Virginia. The Fairs are a reason to get together. The perfect opportunities to take a few kids here, a few there and never get caught."
Dean nodded; Sam was right on the money there. The situation was perfect to hide the witches' activities.
"Now we just need to find out where they're going to hold the ritual and go kick their ugly asses." Hansel tossed out, and Dean liked him even more for his unrelenting hatred of witches. Sam might want to talk to them, but Hansel was shoot-first-ask-questions-later, Dean's kind of guy. "Usually, there's some sort of sacred place; must be something nearby the various … what did you call them? Fairs?"
"All the bodies were found in wooded areas, but that could just be dumping grounds." Dean propped his arm up on the back of the seat, turning to look at Sam, and resting his knee on the seat, conveniently close to Hansel's leg. "I doubt they're doing it at the fair sites themselves, but all of them were in more rural areas."
"They always liked the woods at night. I'm surprised to find one living in a city like this ….." Hansel stopped talking, eye on the woman crossing the street towards the car. Her hips swayed as she walked, obscenely short pants that showed far too much leg and even the curve of her cheeks, top that fit tightly over her breasts, scooping low and leaving her arms bare. Cassandra smiled when she saw him watching, strolling over to Dean's window and leaning her arm on the edge of the car, bending down to look in, giving the occupants a clear line of sight down her shirt, the curve of the neckline just above the dusky brown aureoles of her breasts.
"Evening, boys. Nice night for surveillance at least, right?" Her voice like silky honey, she idly reached for Dean's arm; he yanked it away, face hard and angry.
"No touching, bitch." His gun appeared, aimed at her, held steady.
"Oh, I think I like you." She laughed. "Bullets are so quaint. Won't hurt me, of course, but I appreciate the gesture all the same. And here I was, being nice and helping you out. Going to be a long night otherwise."
Keeping the gun trained on her, Sam and Dean held a silent discussion in a series of eye movements; Sam's "let's get as much information as we can out of her" wide-eyed gaze won.
"Okay, I'll bite. What do you want?" Sam said.
"Well, first, I just wanted to check on my old friend. I have to admit that spell only works about 30% of the time. Nice to see you made it through with all your limbs intact, Hansel, darling." Hansel's face could have been carved from stone as he glared steadily at her; Dean was pretty sure that's what his face would look like if he glanced in the rearview mirror, another thing they had in common. "No diminished mental capacity, I hope? One poor boy was reduced to babbling gibberish."
No one spoke, and the tense silence stretched out; a car passed, slowing down to check out Cassandra's miniscule outfit. "Ever the conversationalist, Hansel? I'll take that as a yes. Secondly, I just wanted to tell you that you should go home and get some sleep. Nothing is going to happen tonight. I need to be fully rested for the ceremony and intend to sleep a good 12 hours. No babies will be harmed or taken or eaten for the duration. Cross my heart." She drew a little X on the bare skin of her chest, trailing the finger down further as Dean's eyes involuntarily followed. Okay, sue him. Those were mighty fine breasts she was displaying.
"Right. You're just going to trot that ass right back into your house and go to bed? Lady, I've got some beachfront property in Iowa I want to sell you." Did she really think they would buy this? Dean wasn't that gullible.
"Oh, darling, I won't be home of course, and you still have to find us, but, honestly, tomorrow just won't be as much fun if you're dragging your tired asses around. I need all of you on your A game; I've promised everyone a good time, you see, and I take my hostess duties very seriously. So drive this sexy car on back to that no-tell motel and fight about who gets to share a bed." She winked at Dean and shivered a little. "Oh, doesn't that conjure up some serious fantasies; I'll lull myself to sleep thinking about the three of you."
"You are one fucked-up witch," Dean grumbled at her.
"Thank you, love," she smiled. "I've worked hard to get where I am. Now get out of here. I called the police about three suspicious men lurking outside my house. Who do you think they'll believe? Angelic nurse Helen or you?" With a wave, she started to go then turned back. "Oh, and Hansel? Your sister was so upset about missing your little departure. I think her exact last words were 'I'm going to kill you bitch'." She laughed as she kept walking then disappeared from view.
"What a piece of work," Sam muttered. Dean was too busy checking Hansel's reaction to the parting shot; he hadn't said a word the entire time. Fists clenched around his shotgun, his eyes tracked her, a burning hatred kindled in their depths.
"Hey, she's just getting your goat, man," he lightly touched Hansel's thigh with a calm hand. "Obviously, your sister stopped her from completing the spell that time, so she had to kick some major ass, right?"
Muscles relaxed a little, and Hansel's eyes cut to Dean's face; the corner of his lips quirked. "Oh, yeah, Gretel would have fucked them up."
"Now you're making me want to meet this woman." Dean started the Impala's engine. He saw Sam's 'okay there's something I don't know here isn't there' question face in the mirror. "Oh, Sammy, have I got a girl for you."
…
Dean rolled over, eyes cracking open then drifting shut again. It was early morning – that time when just the barest hint of the coming light was starting to filter into the dark – and Sam was splayed out on the other bed, arms hanging off the sides, face buried in a pillow, still in jeans and tee. After they'd left Cassandra's street, the whole evening had been one big waste of time; Cassandra was MIA, their searches turned up nothing, and the internet offered no options. Even phone calls to Bobby were answered with a "give me time, idijits." Finally, they'd accepted defeat and gone back to the hotel to crash. Hansel had insisted on a thorough search for hex bags and had even taught them a couple of new warding glyphs to protect the room from magic. All totaled, it was still early – about 1 am – when Sam had kicked off his shoes and tossed himself down on the bed. Hansel had freaked a little about the assumption that he and Dean would share, but he'd been pretty damn cool about Dean tossing his arm over him, hooking his ankle over Hansel's leg, and tucking his head into the curve of Hansel's neck. Dean should have been weirded out by Sam's very knowing eyes watching them as they settled down, but he found he really didn't give a fuck what his brother thought about the whole thing. Seriously? He'd had damn fine sex with a fairytale hunter who was probably going back to his time soon. Wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever done.
Cool sheets spread under his fingers and Dean's eyes popped back open; Hansel wasn't on his side of the bed. Leather coat was still across the back of the chair, boots on the floor – he'd left most of his stuff, so he couldn't have gone far. Bathroom was open and dark. Chain was off the door, and that shotgun missing. Pushing up, Dean swung his feet over the edge of the bed, grabbed the gun from under his pillow and padded over to the door, opening it quietly to avoid waking Sam. They'd taken a room around the back of the motel, facing the wooded lot behind; paranoid after meeting Cassandra, he'd left the Impala across the small stream that wound through the trees, in a clearing accessible by another street. As his bare feet felt the small rocks and sticks, he had second thoughts about going back and getting dressed; only jeans rode low on his hips in deference to the heat. But he thought he knew where Hansel had gone based upon a stray remark he'd made earlier. He stepped carefully over the glyphs drawn in the dirt then saw the familiar shape of the Impala. Hansel was sitting on the hood, back against the windshield, wearing his pants and the henley Dean had loaned him, shotgun lying close at hand.
"I couldn't sleep and didn't want to bother anyone," he said.
"Woke up and wasn't smashed into a small section of the bed." Dean climbed up beside Hansel. "Figured you needed more space."
They sat quietly for a bit and Dean let his eyes drift closed. Actually, it wasn't all that uncomfortable; the night was warm and the stars painted a pattern across the sky. The sound of the occasional passing car on the other side of the trees was a background hum, and Hansel breathed steady and even.
"So, the bitch has a plan for all of us. Sending me here to meet you was part of it. I've been playing it out in my head." Hansel absently rubbed his hands on his thighs.
"In my experience, it's always worse than we know. I just go in expecting a clusterfuck; then I'm not disappointed." And things never got better, each new challenge harder and more difficult than the last. "I'll be black and blue before this is over. Always am."
"If I'm not hurting, it isn't finished," Hansel agreed then fell back into silence again.
"I realized that she's dead." His voice was soft in the night. "Even if she got married, had kids, grew old and died in her sleep, she's long gone. Probably more than 200 years now."
"Time travel sucks, man." Dean sympathized. There was crazy shit in the world, more than most people could even imagine. "But you'll find a way back and the two of you can kill more witches."
"I will or I'll die trying. She's the most important thing, the only family I have."
"Yeah, I understand that." Dean did; he'd die for Sam in a heartbeat. "That's what they don't get … and never will. Sold their souls for personal gain – the power of family escapes them."
"You are not what you seem." Hansel rolled onto his side and ran fingers along Dean's jaw, cupping his hand at the nape of his neck. His thumb traced Dean's lower lip, dragging it down. "I'm definitely not sorry for this one." His breath warmed Dean before he felt the brief graze of his lips that lifted away; Dean kept his eyes open, seeing into the stormy blue-grey depths of Hansel's, the intimacy of the moment reflected there as their lips hung less than an inch apart. It was Dean who closed the distance, capturing Hansel's head with his hands; kisses followed like breaths, an inhale of touch and taste and exploration, an exhale of pauses and breaks and sighs. Glass beneath his back, metal under his bare feet, warm hand sliding along his shoulder, Dean's tongue drew the line of Hansel's lips before easing inside his mouth to ride the circle of teeth. No rush, just the slowness of honey, thick and sweet, worth waiting for; kisses on the mouth, fingertip caresses on the skin, and heated gazes full of promise, all in the darkness of the pre-dawn.
"So," Hansel murmured against his lips, "what makes you jump, Dean Winchester?"
"Ah, now, why would I tell you that?" Dean dropped his hands and lay still while Hansel's eyes roved over his naked chest and the noticeable bulge in his jeans. The man's hesitation was endearing, so tough and strong but unsure in this. "Guess you'll have to hunt for them."
"That I can do." The man was nothing if not thorough, not content to just brush his lips on a spot of skin; he kissed and tasted and touched and bit and sucked each one after the other, places no one had ever paid attention to before. The top curve of Dean's ear, the indentation at his temple, the small hollow of skin where his collarbone dipped. Hansel stopped at every scar, running his fingers over it before his tongue followed, the sensation like liquid heat in Dean's gut. Heavy and hard, Dean's cock responded to the most innocent of contact – the soft brush of the edge of cotton as Hansel's arm crossed Dean's chest, that moment of warm air just before lips pressed in. He felt like he was idling, the car his anchor and Hansel's ministrations the engine fueling the ache in his groin; time seemed endless - 5, 20, 40 minutes, maybe an hour he rode the sensation, letting Hansel take the wheel.
When it was all almost too much, he covered one of Hansel's hands with his own and moved it down to stroke his cock through his jeans, linking their fingers together. He was aching for release, and the friction felt good, so damn good that he groaned and pushed his hips up, giving a little grunt of complaint when Hansel took his hand away long enough to unbutton, unzip and push Dean's pants down far enough to free him. He went with Hansel's tug and lifted up so Hansel could slip an arm under his back, settling Dean's weight on his shoulder and holding him close.
"I want to see you. This I know how to do." Hansel breathed the words into Dean's mouth with a kiss. With a moan, Dean pushed his hip to feel Hansel's hardness, grinding enough to earn him a startled gasp. Hansel's fingers trailed through the liquid leaking from the head, circling the edges, spreading it down the shaft to make his hand slide easier; he explored up and down, curving under the sacs to drag along the sensitive place behind them. Dean knew words were falling out of his mouth under his breath, and Hansel leaned over, capturing the sounds in his mouth. Heady and erotic, the experience was … well, damn it, he was getting one hell of a hand job on the hood of his baby, where anyone could walk up on them and people could be watching and … fuck … he not only didn't care, he wanted more. Moving, he brought them face-to-face, shoving at Hansel's pants, already unlaced and half-open; as soon as Hansel's cock was free, Dean took Hansel's hand with his and curled around them both, hot flesh rubbing together inside the circle of their hands.
"Fuck," Hansel groaned as he realized what Dean was doing, surprise giving way to hazy lust in his eyes. God, but Hansel's mouth was open, looking so thoroughly kissed, and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip; Dean couldn't resist taking it with his own, shifting into a higher gear with an aggressive kiss that invaded Hansel's mouth, hard and fast.
"You want to watch, Candy Boy?" Dean eyes were intent on Hansel's as he spoke. "Then come with me."
Hips started, hands holding still, cocks thrusting up and back; it took a few tries to get a rhythm together, pulsing up at the right time so they were slipping along each other, pre-come mixing and lubricating their shafts, making it easier as their movements became more urgent. Their knees bumped, a windshield wiper was digging into Dean's side, anyone could hear their ragged breaths, and, hell, Dean was so going to have to wash his baby before Sam saw the evidence of this. But he didn't give a rat's ass; the feeling was too amazing, sexier-than-hell, son-of-a-bitch he was going to … When he came, he closed his eyes and just rode it out, Hansel's own groans of release so close to Dean's as they leaned their foreheads together. Heart pounding and chest heaving, he lay still until things stopped spinning, and he was capable of talking again.
A truck's horn sounded from the road; Dean groaned. "Dude, you so are cleaning this car." As much as he'd like to just roll, boneless, onto his back and stay there, Dean pushed up and swung his legs over the edge of the hood, glancing back to see Hansel flop over and rub his face. Now that was a lovely image to file away for future solo sessions. "Think you can sleep now?"
"I think I'll sleep right here, thank you." Despite his words, Hansel got up too.
"Bed's better. We can get a couple more hours." Dean insisted on wiping the hood down with a towel from the trunk at least before they headed back to the room. They opened the door as quietly as possible, taking quick turns in the bathroom to clean up, trying not to disturb Sam. As Dean crawled in behind Hansel, spooning up to him – to save room, of course – he saw Sam give him the 'damn it dean you had sex with him" look. Dean shot back the 'at least we did it outside' eyebrow wiggle; Sam huffed, turned his head, and went back to sleep.