Note- I'm so, so sorry I havent updated in 2 weeks! I was on spring break and had no wifi or my beloved laptop. And I left on a friday and came back the next sunday, so I didn't have the time to post it. But I finished this chapter! It's longer than usual as an apology.
PS- This chapter has Dean/other in it, so if you're bothered by it, you can skip those parts. They don't have anything to do with the plot. I'll put it in italics and have a brief summary of it at the end.
Jake had the door unlocked and stepped inside. Dean followed, gun drawn. He felt safe enough to put it away after they both checked the one bedroom, the one bathroom, and two closets. They worked seamlessly together, as they usually did.
"So, tell me. Theres a whole lotta rumors floating around about you two. Where've you been these past 12 years?" Jake asked, casually flipping through a pile of mail on a countertop. It was a studio-type apartment, so the kitchen and living room weren't separated.
"Short version?" Dean asked, looking over the books in a black bookshelf that had been screwed into the floor. He snorted at his own joke. There was no short version.
He spilled everything in short and clipped yet easy tones. About Azazel and Sam being chosen, about Sam's death and his trip to hell. About Lilith and hellhounds and Ruby, about the apocalypse and them raising Lucifer. About loosing Sam again, about Lisa and Ben, about soulless!Sam and Cas going darkside and hallucifer. About Death, Crowley, and Eve. About Raphael trying to restart the apocalypse and Godstiel and Leviathans. All summarized and paraphrased, of course.
He stopped the story right before Purgatory, having searched all over the living room with it's one couch and tiny color TV.
Jake was leaning forward on his elbows on one of the counters, staring at him with something like awe.
"Wait, so, how many times have you died? How long were you in hell?"
Dean snorted.
"I got stuck in some fucking timeloop where an archangel killed me over a hundred times. I've lost count how many times I've died. And I - uh" He stopped to poke through some magazines.
"I was in hell for forty years."
Jake chuckles like he's joking, but when Dean just looks up, he stops and holds up his hands.
"Wait, hold up. It's only been 12 years since I've last seen you."
"Yeah, well, four months up here equals forty years down there."
Jake let out a low whistle.
"Damn, the years have definitely been good to you."
Dean smirked and fixed his tie.
"Damn straight." He says, and winks at Jake, who eyes him appreciatively.
When Dean looked back at the other hunter, his eyes held him in place. They were golden and the pupils were slightly lust blown, and Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable, like there was something missing.
There was no spark, he suddenly realized, and he turned and busied himself by searching through the drawers of the TV stand and pulling out books.
"So, um. You left off a year and a half ago." Jake tries.
Dean grunts.
"I went to purgatory."
"Purgatory, Purgatory? Or did you spend the last year and a half camping out in Miami?"
"Purgatory, Purgatory, you idiot." Dean snorted.
Jake let out a gust of air. "Wow."
Dean dared to peek up from where he was crouching, only to see his old friend searching through the closet across from the bathroom.
"What was it like, Purgatory?" he asked, voice slightly muffled from where he was sticking it.
"Dirty.", Dean answered. "And pure, I guess. You only focus on surviving. It's where monsters go when they die, so." He shoved the books back in their place.
"I'm just surprised you're still alive. How'd you get out?"
Oh god. The dreaded question. He's never even really told Sammy the full story. Of course, the dweeb has probably already figured it out, but still.
"I - uh - I had help."
"Had help?" Jake questioned, poking his head back out of the closet. "It's where monsters go when they die, right? So what, some random monster willingly helped you out of purgatory? And didn't eat you in return?"
His questions were hitting too close to home for Dean's taste.
"Uh, no- no. Cas got stuck in there with me." He wasn't lying per se, but he wasn't exactly telling the full truth either.
"Oh." He paused. "Must be nice, having an angel to do everything for you. You do know 'The Winchesters' are kind of legends in the hunting community, right? Stopped the Apocalypse, fucking defeated Lucifer by yourselves, best friends with heaven and hell's messengers alike. Your name sends monsters running." There was an undertone of jealousy in his voice that Dean chose to ignore.
Dean wasn't used to this kind of half-awed praise, so he sort of just stood there awkwardly, letting a small, proud smile rest on his lips, eyes trained on the floor.
"So I guess that brings us full circle, huh?" Jake mused, lost in thought.
"Yeah, with cats stalking psychiatric wards and witches who spilled their marbles everywhere." He mocked, staring intently at the ground. "But why are you and Garth paired up anyways? I thought Garth was helping Bobby out."
"Yeah, but Bobby said that he was getting on his nerves and dumped him on me with half a lead about cats." Jake snorted, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
"Huh." Dean grunted.
"What?" Jake stepped forward, following dean's eyes to the floor and the small scattering of white dust and what looked like herb leaves. Dean traced it to the kitchen, then into the bedroom, finally ending at the brick wall the bed was placed in front of.
The paint job on the bricks was old and bad, and it was crumbling and chipping in places, leaving a fine powder of white dust all over the floor. It was most concentrated in the left corner, where a few bricks looked loose. Dean jiggled one, and it easily slid out of the wall and into his hand, paint and brick dust pouring off of it and onto the floor. Behind it, was a wooden box sitting in a large hole that looked like it had been carved out. Dean pulled the box out, and handed the brick to Jake. Inside, were all the herbs a witch could need, and several tiny leather bags full of hair and yarn.
"Ugh. Fucking witches." He mumbled. He closed the box and set it down, then placed the brick carefully back into the wall.
"So … where's her altar, then?" Jake asked, eyes raking the room.
"No clue. But we better hurry. I wanna be able to gank her when she gets back." Dean answered, eyes on the floor again. Jake pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, then opened the small closet in the small room. He searched through clothes, complaining about how he felt like even more of a creeper than usual.
Dean flipped the skirt of the bed up and found it.
He and Jake pushed the bed aside to reveal sigils etched all over the floor, with a cloth and a book in the middle.
"Well. Now we just wait for the witch to show up." Jake snorted.
"Yeah." Dean frowned. A thought occurred to him.
"Hey, I gotta make a phone call … so i'll just …. be over here" He said, slowly backing up.
Jake looked at him funny but nodded.
Dean flipped around and walked into the kitchen/living room, pulling out his phone and dialing the number he knew by heart as he went. He pressed the phone up to his ear and looked out the peephole, staring into an empty hallway. It was picked up at the second ring.
"What?" A grumpy voice answered. Dean smiled.
"Hey, Bobby."
"You didn't call just to chat, did you?"
Dean snorted. "Okay, fine. Why'd you send Garth off with our hunt?"
"What?"
"A witch, Bobby, We're hunting a witch. And apparently, you sent Garth off with the same case as us."
"Boy," Bobby sighed. "It's jus' one of those feelins', that there's something bigger goin' on. And I didn't send Garth off alone. Jake's supposed to be with 'im. He is with 'im, isn't he?"
"Uh, yeah. Jake's - Jake's with him."
"Then whatterya so worked up about, ya idjit?"
Dean sighed. "I'm pretty sure you know, Bobby."
He sighed. "How many times am I gonna hafta tell you this, Dean? The past is the past. What's done is done."
"Not when he's looking at me like that it's not."
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Well, no-um- it's just-" Dean rubbed the back of his neck.
"Just what?"
"It's just not the same!"
"Well of course it's not! It was twelve years ago, Dean. Did you really think it would be the same now?"
"Well, no … "
"Then why are your panties in such a twist?"
Dean blushed bright pink.
"I- I don't know!"
"Look, I think I getit. Sam says you don't go to bars anymore. You're getting' older an' it's scarin' ya."
"No! -Wait, what? You and Sam have been talking about me?" An idea dawned on him. A horrible, twisted idea. "You sent Garth and Jake over here on purpose, didn't you?"
Bobby huffed a sigh. "It was Sam's idea, okay?"
"But Sam doesn't know about Jake!"
"No, but he did say he wanted you to start talkin' to some of your old friends again. Said it'd do you good, or somethin'."
Dean groaned. "You didn't send anyone else over, did you?"
"Well, I was, but most of 'em are dead or unavailable."
"Fantastic."
"Oh, stop moaning princess. Look, jus' kill the witch and you'll be partin' ways before ya know it"
"Yeah, okay. Bye, Bobby."
He flipped the phone closed and slammed his head against the door, memories filling his head.
-January 18, 2001 [Wyoming]-
Dean leaned against the hood of the Impala, waiting for a hunter named Jake to meet up with him. He was hunting a wendingo and had realized he needed help, so he had called up the first hunter that didn't look like a total ass. He preferred hunting with non-asses.
He had parked on a dirt road right before the forest started, a secluded little place that people wouldn't usually find. The purr of a car that Dean would most likely drool over increased from in front of him, and dark blue custom 1981 Pontiac Firebird pulled up and parked parallel to the Impala. Dean ogled the car, fully conscious of the expression on his face. A man stepped out, and he was lying to himself if he said the man wasn't absolutely gorgeous. But he always lied to himself.
His hair was shorter than sammy's, but not by much, and it was slicked up and back to create a sloppy pompadour. He had a five o'clock shadow and heavy eyebrows, and full mouth that parted to show a set of perfect teeth. His eyes glinted mischievously, a look Dean had only felt himself give to women in bars. The guy was wearing a fitted dark brown leather jacket, and the usual hunter clothing. He held out a hand.
"Dean Winchester?" He asked.
Dean looked at the hand and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that's me." He shook.
"Jake Michaels. I'm the guy you called up." He gave Dean another one of those smiles.
"Awesome. I gotta say, sweet ride you got there." Dean shook his head and whistled.
Jake grinned. "Thanks."
-March 22, 2001 [Portland]-
The Firebird pulled up to the motel and slid into a spot next to a 1967 Impala. Jake grabbed his bags and unlocked the motel door, hearing the cocking of a gun and then a relieved sigh.
"Jesus, Jake, you scared me." Dean said exasperatedly, un-cocking the gun and tucking it back into his pants.
Jake smirked to himself and threw his bags onto the second bed. "It's nice to know your reflexes are still sharp."
"Yeah, whatever. What took you so long? I got here like half an hour ago."
"I had to stop for gas. There was a line." Jake groaned. The only thing he hated about driving was fueling up. He pulled a credit card out of his back pocket and flashed it at Dean. "Got me some spending money, though."
"Sweet."
Jake snorted and returned to unpacking his necessities. "Yeah."
He pulled a gun out of his bag and placed it under his pillow, then placed a silver knife on the bedstead next to his flask of holy water. He had their routine down, having traveled and hunted with Dean for over two months now.
"Hey, Dean?"
"Hmm?"
"What's the most time you've ever hunted with someone? Not counting family."
It took him a moment to think. "About a week, I guess." He responded with a shrug.
Jake smirked. "It's been two months, dumbass."
Dean looked surprised. "Really? Damn, we should celebrate or something. Let's go to a bar."
Jake shrugged. "I'm fine with it." He liked the idea of a good fuck right now, no strings attached. He tried to ignore Dean Winchester's sparkling smile that made his stomach clench, but it was hard not to see.
***
The bar was out of the way but the beer tasted good and the people there looked plenty ready to walk away with just about anyone. It was Dean's kind of bar.
They both walked up to the counter and sat down, ordering two beers and a scotch. Jake and Dean both scanned through the patrons, a few looking back and winking. Jake elbowed the other hunter in the ribs.
"Ow! What?!" Dean jerked, almost spilling his beer.
"Are you planning on getting laid tonight?" He asked, trying not to imagine Dean in bed with anyone else.
"Of course." He still looked confused and irritated. Jake sighed.
"Rock paper scissors to see who gets the motel room tonight."
Dean immediately perked up, closing his hand into a fist and holding it above his palm.
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
Dean had a rock and Jake had paper. He hissed a yes, glad he wouldn't have to deal with hiding all their supplies from whomever he brought back.
Just then, a blond haired, blue eyed man sat down next to Jake and ordered a scotch, turning slightly to admire the two men sitting next to him. "Well, hello there."
Dean's face darkened inexplicably and he turned away, attention caught by a black haired beauty in the corner, alone. He nudged Jake and nodded towards her, picking up his beer and stepping off the stool. Jake nodded and turned to the man next to him. The guy looked him over.
"I'm Victor." He said.
"Jake." The hunter responded. Victor smiled at him with lidded eyes and began fingering Jake's jacket.
"I like this. It fits you perfectly. What's it made out of?" He asked.
"It's - uh - leather." Jake answered, feeling the hand land on his thigh.
"Hmmm." Victor purred, leaning in to nuzzle the other man's neck. Jake leaned into it, enjoying the feeling. He felt a gust of hot air puff over his ear.
"How about you and I finish the rest of our conversation at my place?" Victor breathed.
"Sure." Jake whispered back, getting up and leaning close to Victor all the way to the bar.
Dean watched him walk out with the blonde haired dude, completely taken by surprise at the fact that his friend played for both teams.
-July 7, 2001 [Kansas City]-
Dean was sitting on the bed cleaning his guns when his phone rang. He picked it up quickly, seeing the caller ID.
"Dad?"
"Deaan."
Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Dad, are you drunk again?"
"I … I told you I wouldn't raise no fuckkin' qweh- … queers." He slurred.
Dean stiffened up. Jake looked over from his own weapons, sensing Dean's distress.
"Dad. You know I'm not." He said quietly.
"Youu're a fuck- a fucking queerh andd I know it. I thought I got ridofhat, Dean. Thought I taught you women arrrr sp'sed to be the ones you fuck. "
Dean got up and quietly walked to the door, wrenching it open and shutting it softly. Jake stared after his friend, nervously rubbing his grease rag up and down the side of one of his pistols.
After a few seconds he heard muffled shouting, only being able to make out the word "no" and "fuck". He waited quietly, and a few minutes later Dean stalked in, placing his phone gingerly on his bedside table and grabbing his jacket. He pulled it on and tugged it close to his body, grabbing his keys and wallet.
"Where are you going?" Jake asked, concerned about his friend's behaviors, unaware this was a regular happening.
"Out." He replied, slamming the door behind him.
It was around three am when Dean stumbled in, making such a racket that it woke Jake up.
"Dean?" He groaned. The shadow froze and swayed.
"Hmm. Lemme guess, you're upset with me toooo. Nah it's okay, 'm used to it." He slurred. Jake was shocked. Dean rarely got drunk, his alcohol tolerance was that of a god's. To get this smashed he would have made a pretty big dent in a few of his cards.
Dean closed the door on the second try, and swayed towards Jake. He smelled weird, like a truck stop and musk and something else.
"Dean are you - are you alright?"
"Some dude fucked my mouth furr money. I'm fine." He spat out bitterly.
Jake blinked. "What?"
"I'm practically afucking queer, alright? I like dudes! I sell my body ferr' money! So go ahead! THROW ME OUT! Just DO IT!" He yelled.
"Dean, if you haven't noticed, I don't care!" Jake yelled back, confused at the sudden swing in the conversation.
"You're disgusted by me! I can see it!" He yelled back, stumbling forward and pressing a finger to his chest.
"No, I'm not!"
"Yessyou are! My dad was, and so arr' you!" He shoved Jake weakly.
"NO, I'm NOT." Jake yelled back, grabbing Dean's face in his hands and kissing him, hard. He pulled back suddenly, remembering that this wasn't the best thing to do at this point in time.
Dean stood there dumbstruck before fisting Jake's shirt and pulling him back, kissing him with everything he had.
-October 31, 2001 [Sioux Falls]-
They hadn't talked about that night for a full month. In fact, they never really talked about it at all. But sometime in August, Jake had almost gotten himself killed while fighting off a vampire, and when they got back Dean had shoved him up against the wall and kissed all the blood out of his mouth. When he had woken up the next morning, he had just gotten cleaned up and left breakfast and coffee on the table. The same thing happened regularly from that point forward. And if Dean got drunk or let some asshole use him for some extra cash, Jake would just hold him and kiss him until he fell asleep.
It was Halloween, a holiday that was, in Dean's opinion, completely stupid. Sure, he liked the cheap candy and slutty costumes, but that wasn't really interesting him right now. They were on their way to Bobby's, to drop off the Impala. They had decided that it was easier to have all of their supplies in one car.
Dean and Jake both pulled in and parked, pulling out their bags and walking up to the porch. Dean opened the door and strode in, calling out. Bobby appeared in the doorway to his study, smiling at Dean. His eyes landed on Jake and narrowed.
"So who is this, Dean?" He asked, nodding at Jake.
Dean rolled his eyes and put his bags down. "Bobby, this is Jake, a hunter. Jake, this is Bobby. Now that we're all introduced here, can I go unpack?"
"Sure." His eyes were still suspicious, but they were trained on Dean as he grabbed his bags and marched up the stairs.
"Jake, c'mon!" He yelled from upstairs.
Jake huffed a sigh that sounded a lot like "needy" and followed him up the stairs.
"Happy Halloween, Bobby." Dean said, throwing a bag of candy on the old hunter's desk.
"Boy, you're gonna give me a heart attack one these days, mark my words." He said, ripping open the bag and grabbing a candy.
Dean ripped open his own bag and grabbed a handful, sitting down on the couch and placing them in his lap. Jake wandered in after him, looking at all the books before sitting down next to Dean and grabbing a couple candies from his bag.
"I gotta say Mr. Singer, you have quite the collection here."
Bobby looked up in surprise. "Well, thanks. But you don't hafta call me Mr. Singer. Call me Bobby."
"So, what're you looking for? There's papers everywhere." Dean asked.
Bobby sighed. "Yer dad's got me looking for Yellow Eyes again."
Jake looked over to Dean, whose expression had darkened. "Still?" He asked.
Bobby nodded.
There was a moment of stained silence.
Dean cleared his throat. "Any news on Sam?"
Bobby shook his head. "He's still at Stanford, as far as I can tell."
Dean nodded. "Okay." He murmured.
Jake felt like he was intruding on something personal, but before he could excuse himself, Dean got up and announced he was going to bed. He watched him leave incredulously, looking at the clock. It was only 10:48 pm.
He was going to ask Bobby about Dean's behavior, but he ended up asking "Who's Sam?"
The older hunter looked up and stared at Jake with judgmental eyes.
"Look, boy, Dean's like a son to me. Sam's his little brother. I practically raised the two of 'em myself. An' if you hurt that boy, you'll have me to be scared about."
"Wh-what?"
"I can see that you're special to him, okay? He usually never hunts with others. 'Specially not fer this long. So if you two have some thing goin' on, I'm happy fer ya. But if you break his heart, you'll have me to answer to. He's had enough heartbreak in his life already. Too much, if you ask me."
Jake nodded quickly, head spinning.
-
That night, he made sure Dean forgot all about his little brother.
-December 6, 2001 [Sacramento]-
Just thinking about the small conversation Dean had had with Bobby the next morning made him blush. It was nice knowing that Bobby was okay with the thing he had with Jake, but talking about it had been mortifying.
They were in California hunting down a violent spirit when Dean got the call. It had been from his father (sober this time) asking for Dean to meet up with him in Sacramento. Dean had, much to Jake's displeasure, dropped the hunt and tailed it to his father.
They met in some storage place a couple miles away from the actual city. Dean was driving, and pulled up next to a truck. He and Jake got out and walked up to a scruffy looking man in a leather jacket.
"Dad? You called me?"
John Winchester turned to see his son and a second hunter walking up to him.
"Who's this?" He asked, suspicion evident in his voice.
"This is Jake. He's a hunter." Hi voice was detached, with no emotion. Jake was slightly confused.
"Huh. Well. How 'bout we get some drinks and talk?" It wasn't a question, it was a command.
They had gone to some bar named Tilly's. Jake tagged along, not quite sure if he should stick around. Dean's odd behavior didn't help.
They were all sitting at a table in the corner, John on one side and Dean and Jake on the other. Dean practically purred at the waitress when she brought them their drinks. She blushed and giggled.
"So. We have a problem here." John started. Jake pretended that Dean hadn't practically frozen.
"There's a pretty big demon infestation in the city, and I need help."
Dean let out a gust of air. "Demons?" He asked.
"Yeah." John answered, eyes on Dean.
"Okay." The answer was immediate.
***
He ordered two motel rooms that night.
-January 18, 2002 [Sioux Falls]-
"You what?!" Bobby yelled, as Dean stood there alone to retrieve the Impala.
"I .. I told him it would be better if we went our separate ways. As friends." His voice was dead.
"AND WHY?!"
"Dad wanted me to hunt with him again."
Bobby threw his hands up into the air, pacing up and down the kitchen. He stopped again in front of Dean.
"Why is it that every single time you find somethin' that makes you happy, you gotta go and get rid of it?"
"I don't know." He whispered.
"What?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, tears spilling over. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the counter and took a swig.
He left the next morning.
-
Dean was shaken out of his flashbacks by a door slamming into his forehead. He stumbled backwards, rubbing his head and staring at the woman in the doorway incredulously.
"Who the fuck are you?" She screamed.
for the ones who skipped the flashbacks - So basically the flashbacks start when Dean first meets Jake, then go to when they both celebrate their working together for 2 months at a bar and they both go home with someone, then they finally get together after Dean reveals that he sells his body to men for extra cash, then Bobby finds out and has a positive reaction, then John calls them and Dean and Jake part ways, and FINALLY, (heh), Dean comes back to Bobby's and Bobby yells at Dean for being an idiot.