Forty-Three Days (4/9)
Nov. 19th, 2008 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timehasa_wayChapter 1: Sound and Vision
Chapter 2: Blood and Dust
Chapter 3: Cereal and Stitches
Chapter 4: Breakfast and Bathrooms
It had been hours since Jared had forced Jensen to eat something and take some more Motrin, his own stomach grumbling to remind him that he’d somewhat neglected himself in the process. His eyes burned from staring at the laptop screen for too long, and he stood, rubbing his eyes and heading to the kitchen for whatever food he could scrounge up. He needed to buy some more groceries. He’d stopped off to buy enough for a few days when he’d gone out to Jensen’s apartment, and they were running out fast. Grabbing a bag of chips from one of the kitchen cabinets, he strolled back into the living room, the dogs actually begging for attention. He petted them and played with them, watching them lick up the crumbs he spilled onto the carpet, and tried not to think about why they were so lively now. It was either that they’d gotten used to the Hellhound, or they didn’t mind it so much when it was upstairs, waiting for Jensen to leave the bedroom. Or it was a combination of both. Life was really fucked up sometimes.
He flopped back on the couch and flung an arm over his face, Harley nudging at his elbow and licking whatever skin he could find. “How much time?” Jensen had asked. Jared told him it would be enough. He’d promised him that it would be. But after hours of trying to figure out a possible timeline, Jared was stumped. At first, he’d looked up the air date of the season finale, trying to trace it from there. The episode had first aired on May 15th, and Jared had flown back to Vancouver to see Jensen on June 14th, which was when Jensen had been attacked. That was exactly thirty days. The thirty day lag made sense until Jared realized that Jensen had been hearing and seeing Hellhounds well before the episode had aired, while they were still filming. The only thing he could figure now was that the timing depended on the intensity of the fans’ reactions. There had been widespread speculation that Sam wouldn’t be able to save Dean well before anyone had even spoiled themselves for the finale. So, the suggestion of Dean dying led to Jensen hearing a growling noise and possibly seeing black flashes wherever he went. As time went on, and the deal was no closer to being broken, that suggestion grew stronger. The visual of Dean’s death had cemented it, but had also left many fans in a sort of shock. But, by the time Jensen had been attacked, fans the world over had accepted that Dean was rotting in Hell and that he may not be able to find a way out.
It made sense, but it left Jared nowhere. How would he be able to tell when the fans’ reactions would be strong enough to render their protective items useless? It was virtually impossible. He had no idea how to help Jensen, and he had no idea how long he even had to do so. For all he knew, time could run out tomorrow. He shuddered at the thought, swallowing hard. He couldn’t afford to be negative. Not now. Not when Jensen was already falling into that trap. He had to force himself to think positive, be positive, if only for Jensen’s sake. Still, the memory of watching Dean get ripped apart haunted him, and he forced his tired eyes open, those horrific images playing out on the backs of his eyelids. A chill ran through him, his heart thumping with adrenaline even though he wasn’t moving. He’d never been this scared in his life, and he had half a mind to go upstairs and stick close to Jensen, as if just being in the same room with him would help protect him. He struggled with the thought, battling against it. Jensen still needed his privacy, and Jared wasn’t going to worry him more with his own fear. Jared would stick to sleeping on the couch, ignoring the powerful urge to forget about being tired and just watch over Jensen as he slept.
Jared stared up at the ceiling, eyes growing heavy. He worried about Jensen, about the panic attack and the strange, accepting calm that had followed. That almost scared him more than the mystery deadline they were facing. Jared wondered if Jensen really was sleeping upstairs, or if he was too scared. He wondered if he was comfortable enough, and if he felt safe enough in Jared’s bed. He wasn’t sure when he finally drifted off, but he was pretty sure that the last concern that flitted through his sleep deprived brain was whether or not Jensen had thought about him while falling asleep.
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Jensen almost woke up expecting his life to be normal again. The deep, dreamless sleep had been so satisfying and unexpected. But everything came crashing down around him when he opened his eyes and realized that he was still in Jared’s bed, jewelry on, surrounded by goofer dust. He might have cried if he thought it would make a difference, but it wouldn’t. There were those times, rare times for most men, when you could let your emotions loose, and, after that, everything would seem a little bit brighter. But this wouldn’t. Imminent death and probable Hell could never seem brighter.
He shifted in bed, putting his glasses on before looking at the clock on the nightstand. Jared should be in there by now. He wasn’t sure why he expected that. He’d just gotten so used to Jared being with him almost every waking moment that it struck him – almost bothered him – when Jared wasn’t there for his…well, waking moment. He shook his head, wondering when he’d hired Jared to be his keeper. The poor guy was probably tired and cramped up on the couch; all 6’4 of him.
Jensen moved to get out of bed, beginning to get used to the lingering pains in his leg. When he opened the door to the bedroom, he had the sickening realization that he was almost used to seeing Hellhounds, too. Not quite, but almost. After all, they did still carry that threat of Hell. He still found it odd, the way that he could maneuver around them without them attacking him. He briefly wondered what it would feel like if he could somehow reach out and touch them, and then shook his head, deciding that he didn’t really want to know.
He paused halfway down the stairs, catching sight of Jared sprawled on the couch, limbs curled in towards his body and twisted at awkward angles. That couldn’t be comfortable. And yet, Jared’s face was so peaceful and serene, stray locks of hair casting soft shadows over it.
Cautiously descending the rest of the stairs, Jensen took in the lights, the open and plugged-in laptop on the coffee table, and the blanket and pillow on the floor beside the couch. The sight of Jared squeezing himself onto the couch so that Jensen could have his bed was enough. But to see that Jared had clearly passed out from staying up too late trying to work out ways to save him? That was too much. As quietly as he could, he crossed the living room to the couch, turned the lights off, and bent to retrieve the pillow and blanket. He covered Jared first, Jared instinctively snuggling down into the warmth. Then, nearly holding his breath as he did so, he gently lifted Jared’s head, fitting the pillow down beneath it.
Satisfied that Jared was still asleep and (hopefully) more comfortable, Jensen turned to move towards the kitchen, freezing when a crinkling sound filled the air. Peering back over his shoulder, he saw that Jared hadn’t moved. He lifted his foot, staring down at a half-eaten bag of chips. There was something so genuinely Jared about that, that he had to smile. He picked it up off the floor and took it out to the kitchen, rolling it up and setting it on the counter.
“Hey, Sadie, Harley,” he whispered softly, even though he knew they wouldn’t respond. They cowered at the back door, staring at him with sad brown eyes, eventually growling at the figure he could see just out of the corner of his eye. “I know,” he said, reaching for their bowls, so he could fill them with food and water. “I know.”
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Jared woke to the smell of breakfast. Breakfast? He opened his eyes and moved around a little, stretching sore limbs and pulling the blanket higher. Blanket? He sat up, working out the kinks in his neck, brain still a bit fuzzy.
“Hey.” Jensen suddenly came strolling into the living room, glasses on, plate and utensils in hand. “How about some breakfast in couch?”
“Jensen?” Jared took the plate Jensen offered him, his stomach growling immediately at the sight of pancakes and bacon. He held off eating to look back up at his friend. “How long have you been up?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jensen shrugged, sitting down next to him. “I just figured you might need a heartier meal than that late night bag of chips.”
Jared had never found anyone more confusing than Jensen in a crisis. Not that he’d ever really experienced Jensen in a crisis, which was probably why this was so confusing. Jensen turning the tables and taking care of him both warmed him and worried him, if only for the reason that Jensen’s moods had changed so much since this all began. Just yesterday, Jensen was all vulnerable and scared in his arms. Now he was bringing Jared breakfast. Jared sighed and grabbed his fork, glancing at Jensen apologetically as he sliced into the pancakes.
“I slept too late.”
“There’s no such thing,” Jensen said, smiling and reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You need your rest, Padalecki.”
“You didn’t have to…” Jared pointed at his plate with his fork, busily chewing a crispy piece of bacon. Damn. Why hadn’t he known Jensen could do this?
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to fly back to Vancouver, rescue me from Hellhounds, take me in, call in favors for me, and sleep on the couch, but you did,” Jensen replied, glancing at Jared with a mixture of shame and guilt. Jared stopped chewing.
“I wanted to do those things, Jensen.”
“And I wanted to make you breakfast,” Jensen countered without hesitation, smiling brightly at him again.
Christ. If only he could keep that smile on Jensen’s face. But, chances were, it would be gone in a matter of minutes. He wanted to continue the conversation, tell Jensen that he’d never owe him anything for this. But that would kill Jensen’s happiness a lot quicker. Besides, the simplicity of Jensen’s last statement had done enough to bring a smile to his own face. In spite of the circumstances regarding their current arrangements, this moment had Jared wondering why they’d never done this before. Living with Jensen would probably be just as easy as working with Jensen. Which pretty much meant that living with Jensen would be easier than living with anyone he’d ever lived with, including his family, as much as he loved them. But maybe it would be overkill after all those long days at work. Jared somehow doubted that. But maybe it would be.
“So, did you find anything?” Jensen asked, grabbing for the laptop and settling down into the couch cushion with it. Jared hesitated, not wanting to admit that he’d found nothing. “Hey, you have a reminder coming up on your calendar on here, you know that?”
“Really?” Jared breathed, thankful for the change in subject. “What for?”
“Oh.”
“Jensen?”
Jared had seen plenty of different emotions on Jensen’s face, whether it was when he was playing Dean, or in real life, especially in the past months. But one thing Jared didn’t see often in Jensen was disappointment. He’d seen everything from ruthless anger, to unbridled happiness, to heart-stopping fear, but never pure, unadulterated disappointment. That was the look on Jensen’s face as he stared at Jared’s laptop, his face just falling, and Jared hoped he’d never have to see it again.
“Jensen?” he prodded.
“You…You’re supposed to go to Australia?”
“Shit!” Jared’s eyes widened, and he put his plate down on the coffee table, turning the laptop towards him. “Supanova in Sydney, fuck!”
“It’s okay.” Jared looked over at Jensen, suddenly calm and stone-faced again. “It’s this weekend, dude. You should start packing.”
“What? Jensen,” he grabbed the laptop and set it back down on the table, next to the remnants of his breakfast, “I’m not leaving you here. Not like this.”
“It’s okay,” Jensen repeated, shrugging his shoulders.
“Dude…what’s,” Jared started, then closed his mouth. He was more than concerned with the way Jensen had been acting lately. But as much as he wanted to come straight out and ask what the hell was wrong with Jensen, he knew that could go one of two ways. One, Jensen would break down and admit that something was wrong and he was fucked. Two, Jensen would get all defensive and shut down, keeping more from Jared than he already was. And the former was highly unlikely. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not leaving, okay. Even if you say that I can, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this. There’s too much going on here.”
“You’ve already canceled on others,” Jensen protested, sounding genuinely interested now. “Everybody knows I dropped out of the movie, and I’ve been MIA for a while. You can’t do the same thing. People will get suspicious!”
“Of what?” Jared countered. “Look, if it comes up, everybody just finds out the same stuff you told your mom. And I’m just here helping you out. You’re my best friend, and you’re in the middle of a crisis, that’s a good enough excuse!”
“But I don’t want that!” Jensen’s voice rose, causing Jensen to look just as surprised as Jared was. Jensen fidgeted and settled himself. “There’s probably enough talk about me already because of the movie, and because I haven’t been…around. And I just…I don’t want there to be more than there already is, and I don’t want to have to tell people anything. I don’t want people to know anything.”
“Jensen,” Jared scooted closer and put his hand over Jensen’s on the couch cushion, “We don’t even know how much time you have left. I couldn’t figure it out,” he admitted softly, disturbed by the way Jensen’s expression remained completely neutral. “If I left, and something happened…”
“You couldn’t do anything to save me if you were here, Jared.” Jared’s harsh and sorrowful stare made him flinch and look away, cheeks coloring, a chink in the armor. “Besides, what if you could learn something there? I mean, if someone brings something up about the show, you know, what if it jogs your memory, or something?”
Damn. Jensen kind of had a point there.
“Come with me,” Jared said, demanding. “Hell, your shit’s already packed. We’ll go there together; nobody even has to know you’re in the country. You can hide out in the hotel while I’m at the convention. You’re coming,” he insisted when Jensen opened his mouth to protest. “And that’s final.”
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Jensen had never really been afraid of flying, unlike Dean. He often slept on planes, even through significant amounts of turbulence. But this was different. There had never been a Hellhound pacing the aisle before. If he thought he’d gotten used to having Hellhounds around, he’d been wrong. He sat by the window, his head against it, sweat beading on his forehead, hands gripping the arms of the seat until his knuckles turned white. He’d dealt with Hellhounds following him around Vancouver, his apartment, and Jared’s house. But being suddenly thrust into close quarters and stuck thousands of feet in the air with a Hellhound was a bit more than he could handle.
Jared’s fingers would brush his every so often, and he’d let out a shuddering breath and a curse, wanting nothing more than to be back on the fucking ground, where he could at least run if the Hellhound tried to jump him.
“You’re a genius, Jared.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Once again, he had to remind himself that snapping at Jared would get him nowhere. He just hated being this scared, this vulnerable. He’d been strung out and pissed ever since he’d stepped foot out of Jared’s house on the way to the airport. It had been a little while since he’d dealt with this many people out in public, and it was the first time he’d been out in public since he’d been attacked. And on top of everything else, that made him a bit paranoid. He was somehow convinced that anybody looking at him could see something was wrong, would know that he’d gone off the deep end. He’d trembled uncontrollably all through the airport, and it took everything in him not to start screaming when they sat at their gate, waiting to board. It was too much. Over and over again, he’d think to himself that it was too much, too much pressure and intensity, and then he’d have to remind himself to breath, and Jared would find some way to touch him in an effort to calm him down. Every few minutes, he was certain he was about to break, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. And they were flying to Australia. Wonderful.
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Heading back to his room to collect Jensen and their luggage, Jared shook his head in frustration. He’d come here and learned nothing. If anything, as he slid his key in the lock, he felt more disheartened than he had before, especially after one of the fans had asked him if Jensen was actually signed on for season four. Christ, if some of them weren’t even sure about that…
Holy shit. It had just him like a punch, and it was so fucking simple. How had he not seen this before?
He flung the door open, stepped in, and slammed it behind him, Jensen staring at him questioningly.
“I am such a fucking idiot,” he deadpanned, almost breathless from his sudden revelation.
“Well, I could’ve told you that, Jared,” Jensen responded with a smirk. And while Jared was happy to have a piece of the old jokester Jensen back, he was too caught up in his discovery to truly appreciate it. He crossed the room to where Jensen had thrown his suitcase on the bed, repacking things he’d used during their stay, and stood directly in front of him, gripping his shoulder.
“I know how to save you.”
“What?” Jensen swallowed, his eyes more hopeful than they had been since this had started, and the toiletry items he held fell from his fingers, bouncing on the bed.
“These conventions, Jensen!” Jared exclaimed. “They’re the answer!”
“What do you mean?” Jensen asked, his eyes clouding over with doubt again.
“Look, the fans think Dean’s in Hell, right? They think he isn’t coming back; that maybe you’re not coming back. But once they realize Dean’s getting out of Hell,” Jared explained, “They’ll accept that he’s out and alive again, and you’ll be safe! If we go to Comic Con like we’re supposed to, we can spread the word, and you’ll be there, and it’ll be fixed! Jensen?” The words had started pouring out of him excitedly, but Jensen just stood there, numb, eyes misting over slightly. “Dude…what’s wrong? This is your out, man!”
“Jared,” Jensen shook his head slowly, “I…Man.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his lengthening hair. “When you said you knew how to save me, I thought it was something that we could do, you know, now. I’m already afraid, man,” he admitted, his voice wavering a bit. “I’m already afraid of the things I’ll have to do to seem normal. I mean, going back to set, and filming, and interviews, and the convention, God…” His voice broke, and he lowered his head in his hands, Jared sitting down beside him. “I just don’t know,” he said, looking up at Jared and blinking furiously, “If I can do this. I don’t know how long I can hold on and do these things when I have this hanging over my head.”
“You can do it,” Jared encouraged quietly, his heart clenching in his chest. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting at all. He thought he’d be lifting Jensen’s spirits, not breaking them more. “You’re strong, Jensen. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re also the best fucking actor I know. You’re great at your work, man. That’s how you can get through this. Just do your job.”
Jensen hesitated, as if considering what Jared had just said, but still overwhelmingly downcast.
“We don’t even know what’s happening with the show yet,” Jensen said finally. “We don’t know if Dean gets out of Hell, how long it would take him to get out, if he ends up turning into something that he’s not. And Comic Con…That isn’t even until the end of July, Jared. It’s over a month away. And we don’t know how much time I have.”
Jensen was right. Jared didn’t want to admit it, but Jensen was right. Jared was going on full optimism, but they still didn’t know anything.
“Okay,” Jared said, trying his best to still sound (and feel) positive. “Look, we’re supposed to get the script for the first episode in a couple days. That’s when we’ll know for sure that Dean comes back.” Jensen looked at him doubtfully, and Jared fixed him with a convincing Sam stare. “Come on, Jensen. You know Eric’s bringing you back. There’s no way he’s leaving Dean in Hell. He’s coming back, and you’re gonna be fine. Just give it a couple days, and you’ll see.”
“Right.” Jensen stood and tensely resumed packing. “Can we just go home now?”
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It was weird, how weird it didn’t feel to refer to Jared’s place as “home.” He almost felt guilty about it not feeling weird, like that was just how much he’d taken over Jared’s life recently. He wondered if Jared resented him for it. Sure, Jared never acted like he did, but he had to on some level. Who wouldn’t?
“You’re more relaxed this time.”
“What?” Jensen stared at Jared blankly until realization dawned. They were halfway through their flight home, and Jensen had just been sitting quietly; no gripping of the armrests, no panting or sweating, and no cursing every five seconds. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”
What he wanted to say was, “Thanks a lot for reminding me, jackass!” But then how would he explain that, no, he hadn’t even been paying attention to the Hellhound, because he was too busy obsessing over whether or not Jared hated him? And then he thought about how not weird it felt for Jared to be such a presence in his mind that he could ignore Hellhounds on a plane. Until Jared pointed them out, of course.
Who the hell was he kidding? No matter what, he’d eventually come back to this. He had to. It was always there, hanging over him, and there was no way out. Well, Jared thought there was. But there was no way that could work. He tried to feel the optimism that Jared had, but he just couldn’t reach it. He felt horrible for thinking this, but he almost wished that Jared had just never said anything. It was hard enough losing all hope before, and having to accept that. But to have it given back to him for a few measly seconds before it was all ripped away again? That was just torture. It was cruel and unfair, and it made him hate his life even more. What the hell had he done to end up so completely and utterly doomed?
It was that moment that his bladder began to make an insistent request, and he adjusted himself in his seat, cursing quietly.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Jensen replied, a little too quickly, and Jared eyed him until he felt uncomfortable and his bladder surged again. “Oh, what the fucking hell?!”
“Jensen?” Jared was fully turned towards him now, hands on him and eyes filled with concern. “Jensen, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Jensen snapped, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “It’s just…I really have to piss.”
“Oh.” Jared backed off, unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to stand. “Just tell me dude, I’ll get out of your way.”
Jensen wanted to protest, but Jared was already standing in the aisle, and Jensen couldn’t stop himself from glaring. Jared actually took a step back, looking wide-eyed and innocent, and like he was wondering why the hell Jensen was so mad at him. The urgency of Jensen’s need hit him, and he cursed and grabbed his crotch, ignoring the shocked and somewhat appalled look Jared gave him as he stood and made his way to the bathroom. What he hadn’t had time to explain to Jared, was that having to piss in the middle of the flight wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he pretty much never wanted to find out if the Hellhound would follow him into the tiny room. Because that was one mile high club he didn’t want to be a part of. At least there was space in the bathroom at home. He practically sprinted to the bathroom, sliding the door open and then closing it again behind him, the Hellhound growling from the other side of it.
“Oh, thank fuck!” Jensen exclaimed in relief, briefly embarrassed that he may have been loud enough for others to hear him, before fumbling with his zipper and finally pulling his dick out, heaving a sigh and leaning against the wall as he pissed into the open toilet.
He knew he was fucked up when he started thinking while he was relieving himself. And not just random, odd thoughts, either, but those deep, penetrating thoughts that usually kept people up at night. You know, things like the meaning of life, and the role of fate, and all that other crap that he’d usually push aside to worry about later, when he was on his deathbed, or something. Of course, he was sort of at that point now, wasn’t he? So, maybe it wasn’t all that fucked up that he was having revelations while taking a piss in an airplane bathroom. And the atmosphere kind of helped. He hadn’t expected to feel so safe in here. Hell, he had been terrified to come in. But, even though he was still thousands of feet in the air, the Hellhound was locked outside, and he was no longer cramped next to Jared, worrying just how transparent he was being. It was strange, but he somehow felt like he’d just escaped all the pressures in his life.
It took him a minute to realize that he’d finished pissing, and was still holding himself in his hand, suddenly realizing that there was more than one way for him to relieve himself in here. He hadn’t touched himself in a while, not even in the rare instances when he’d wanted to. It felt too damn weird to do it in Jared’s house. And that was one thing he was happy to still feel weird about. At first, he was surprised that he didn’t have any reservations about jerking off right then and there. Jensen was usually so much of a private person. Not that he wasn’t alone right now, but…he’d usually still be self-conscious about it, and hold off until later. But, fuck it. Like he’d just realized a minute ago, he was practically on his deathbed. Why couldn’t he do this for himself, enjoy himself, just for the sake of doing it? What did it matter?
He closed his eyes, slowly running his hand up and down his shaft. He searched his mind for images of the last person he’d been with and came up with Danneel…who’d broken up with him after he’d been an asshole and ditched her for two months. He bit his lip at the painful memory, continuing to touch himself in vain. Fuck this. Fuck her. What had she ever done for him, anyway? It’s not like it was his fault. It was his fucking life. Fuck his life. What the fuck had he done to deserve this? He felt his cock jerk and stiffen in his palm as anger boiled beneath his skin, and he tightened his fist around it, the rough push-pull drag of skin on skin just the right side of painful.
But his anger slowly ebbed away and became something he was a lot more used to these days: a bitter, self-effacing hopelessness. He wasn’t sure why he’d let himself get so worked up over this, when he knew. He knew how wrong he was. What right did he have to be angry? He’d screwed things up with Danneel, and everyone else. He knew that. And now he was blaming her, and feeling angry with her, just so he could get off? The truth was, there was nobody he could blame but himself, and there was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. The truth was, he was more pathetic than he’d ever been, and there was no sense in trying anymore.
“Pathetic,” he thought to himself, still roughly jerking his dick in his hand. He could feel now that this was definitely not the right side of painful, but he ground himself through it, anyway, feeling so disgusted with himself that tears pricked at his eyes. He’d never hated himself so much in his life. “So fucking pathetic.”
He froze at the knock on the door, his hand stilling on his rapidly softening dick.
“Jensen? Jensen, are you alright?”
Oh, fuck. Of course Jared had to catch him at a time like this. He turned to look in the mirror, satisfied that his eyes were dry, and shamefully tucked himself back into his pants. Yeah, sure, he was fine. He was simply indulging in a painful masturbation session that nearly brought him to tears.
“Is it out here?” Jared whispered through the door. “Is that why you’re not coming out?”
Jensen flushed the toilet and opened the door, brushing past Jared and marching back to his seat without saying a word. He kept his head turned to the window, unable to look at Jared, who paused before finally taking up his seat again. Jensen could see Jared’s reflection in the window, could see Jared glancing at him, his face flaming red.
“Sorry,” Jared muttered, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean, if…if I interrupted…”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Don’t be,” Jensen said quickly, turning even farther away from Jared, if possible.
“I was just worried about you.”
Jensen didn’t answer, just closed his eyes. This wasn’t fair. Forget life not being fair to him. It wasn’t a question of that anymore. But none of this was fair to Jared. Jared shouldn’t have to go through this, worrying about him all the time. All he’d been, ever since he’d called Jared back to Vancouver, was a burden. He’d done such a piss poor job of dealing with his own problems that he’d gone and fucked Jared’s life up as well. It would’ve been better if he’d never called. It would’ve been better if Jared had never known. It would’ve been better if he had stayed at home, alone, and died quietly, without anyone ever knowing the cause.
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It hadn’t taken Jared long to figure out that Jensen’s moods came and went in cycles. Whenever Jensen was like this, in one of his downward spirals, Jared tried to comfort himself by thinking that it would all be over soon. That Jensen would be back to smiling and laughing with him again. That he just had to help him through this rough patch before he could relax for a while. But he also realized that the downward spirals were lasting longer, the upswings limited to maybe one half-smile before they were gone again. Jared found himself keeping a closer eye on Jensen, not risking oversleeping again, most of their time spent in silence.
“You don’t think he could just fax it to us, or something?”
Jared looked up from his bowl of cereal, surprised to find Jensen looking back at him. There was a guarded nervousness in his eyes, just barely given away by the light drumming of his fingertips on the dining room table. Jared shook his head, pushing away the cereal box with the distracting colorful maze on the back.
“He said he wanted to meet with us,” Jared blurted out, realizing his mistake only after he’d spoken, and forcing himself to look casual.
“He…what?” Jensen licked his lips and leaned forward, his fingers stilling on the tabletop. “When did you talk to him?”
“You were asleep,” Jared mumbled through his last mouthful of cereal.
“What did you tell him?”
The question was inevitable. Jared knew it, and he still hesitated to answer it. He didn’t want to lie to Jensen, but the truth wasn’t looking so great, either. Of course, Eric had to know that something was up with Jensen. Everyone knew something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. In all honesty, Jared probably hadn’t helped matters much. It was just as Jensen had said; trying to reassure someone that everything was alright while being vague about the problems you were having tended to only make them worry about you more. Besides, Eric and the crew were counting on Jensen coming back and cranking out top-notch performances, which would seem questionable to them if Jensen’s headspace wasn’t so clear. He’d eventually argued Eric into accepting his word that Jensen would be fine, and hastily pleaded with him to refrain from asking Jensen about what went wrong over the break. He didn’t want Jensen to feel more uncomfortable than he already would be at this meeting.
“I told him everything was fine,” Jared said, shrugging. “He’s cool.”
Jared was a little disturbed when Jensen did nothing but nod with a faraway look in his eyes, expecting some sort of fight or argument to come out of this. Instead, he was treated to the same silence he’d been experiencing since their flight back to Vancouver. The silence lasted through their next flight to L.A., their ride to the writers’ room, and even through most of the greetings, Jensen merely nodding to everyone as they shook hands. Jared returned Eric’s look of concern with one of confidence, silently willing Jensen to act like his normal self.
“So, how was your break, guys?” Eric asked casually, his eyes flicking back and forth between Jared and Jensen.
“Fine,” Jared answered hurriedly when Jensen fidgeted and gave him a pleading look. “Yeah, it was fine.” He pasted a smile on his face. “Just hung out in Vancouver for a little while, you know?”
“And the movie? How badass was Jason, huh?”
Jared looked over at Jensen, saw him tense and lower his head, eyes fixed on the wood of the long table they were seated at. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten so good at reading Jensen's mind, but he knew that the mention of his movie could raise questions about the one that Jensen dropped out of, which would ultimately make Jensen nervous. Jared guessed it was also a reminder of what Jensen's summer was supposed to have been like. Even for Jared, this meeting right now, with upbeat tones and excited eyes on him, was a shock to his system. He knew it had to be worse for Jensen; something like a cruel joke. His life had been turned into a nightmare, being forced to live out the life of the character these very people wrote for him, and now here they were, asking how his summer was. They had no idea. For a brief moment, Jared looked around the room at the people he'd grown to know as some sort of crazy extended family: Eric, Kim, Sera, Ben. And, for a brief moment, he felt angry with them. Jensen was sitting here, a marked man, Hellhound probably in the room, all because of them. They'd come up with the story, written the lines, produced the show, and happily handed over scripts that all of them thought were so badass. And now, here they were, ready to do it again, with no idea of what they were doing. How could they not know? How could they not know that they'd practically sentenced Jensen to death?
He knew it was irrational to even ask those questions. Because, in all honesty, the real question was, “How could they know?” None of this made sense. And placing blame didn't make any sense, either. Hell, he could blame the fans if he wanted to. It was ironic, to think that such a blessing could be such a curse. Here were all these people who were so touched and in touch with their characters. They loved Sam and Dean, believed in them. At any other time, that would be a Godsend. It would be something that would make both Jared and Jensen swell with pride, because they were obviously doing their jobs right. All the hard work and long hours were paying off. And instead, they were faced with this, the attention from the fans so strong that it was pretty much killing them. Shit, the higher-ups were never allowed to complain about ratings again. They clearly weren't a problem.
“Oh, man,” Jared grinned widely. “Jason was fuckin' awesome.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We have shit that's better than Jason.”
Jensen glanced up at Ben Edlund, the guy who looked more like the front man of a rock band than one of Kripke's crew. He took in the cool smirk on Ben's face and wondered for a minute if this was all some sort of massive and sadistic practical joke. After all, Jensen was well aware that these people had created things much nastier than Jason. He half expected the whole room to burst out into laughter within the next few seconds, all joyous faces and pointing fingers in his direction. But he could feel concerned eyes burning through his skin, Kim Manners' in particular. The man had directed him through many of the most emotional scenes on the show, watching him torture himself enough to feel Dean's pain, and as much as Kim joked that he wanted to kill Jensen and Jared both after a long day on set, Jensen knew that Kim cared about them way more than he let on. He hated it, that concern. It was the same as with Jared. He was bringing them all down, making them all worry about something that they could do nothing to fix, although Jared thought otherwise. Christ, if they'd only stop looking at him like that.
“You boys ready for the new season?”
“Absolutely,” Jensen replied immediately, staring back at Kim with his game face on, smile intact, even if it did waver a bit.
He caught a twitch in Jared's posture, a slight sign that the supposed change in Jensen's mood had caught him by surprise, but he was fairly certain that no one else in the room could read Jared the way he could. The corner of Kim's lips curled the slightest bit upwards, but he continued to hold Jensen's gaze, suspicion written on his features. Jensen tried his best to hold his ground, telling himself that it's what Dean would do, dammit. But, in the end, he was forced to look away, Sera's gentle hand on his bicep a welcome distraction.
“We have such great plans for Dean this season!” She smiled at him, her eyes wide with the wild excitement she always expressed when talking about the show. “You're gonna love it!”
“Yeah, I'll bet,” Jensen said, grinning at her before turning his attention to the entire room. He inclined his head in Jared's direction. “So, what does this idiot do to get me out of hell?”
“That's the awesome part,” Eric said, sliding scripts over the table to him and Jared. And if Jensen hadn't felt doomed before, he did now. The glee in Eric's expression could only mean one thing. “He doesn't.”
“What?”
Jared spoke before Jensen could, and Jensen was pretty sure that, this time, everybody was able to pick up on Jared's twitches, the quiver in his voice. Jensen's eyes were on the table again. He could feel Jared's horror and dismay, and hated himself again for causing this. He knew Jared was counting on this script as part of his big plan, and now it was sounding like Dean would rot in Hell for much longer than they thought. He knew that Jared would be heartbroken if he was wrong about Dean getting out, and he wished again that he'd never pulled Jared into this.
“He doesn't!” Eric repeated cheerfully. “Sam's tried everything to get Dean out, but he just fucking can't! It's fucking brilliant! Dean's been stuck rotting away in Hell for four fucking months, man!”
A sudden, deafening silence filled the room, and Jensen broke it by pushing his chair back away from the table. He had to get out of there. He couldn't stand to watch Jared suffer for him anymore.
“I, uh...Sorry, I just need the bathroom,” he muttered, eyes on the floor as he walked out, closing the door behind him.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing at the bathroom window, a Hellhound standing at the ready behind him. Even when Jared came in, he'd heard the sound, but it hadn't really registered, the hand suddenly squeezing his shoulder a jolt back to reality.
“Hey,” Jared said softly, not waiting for a response. “It's not as bad as it sounded, alright? Dean still comes back, it's just...not the way we thought he would. But this can still work. As soon as word gets out, and we go to the convention and everything, this'll all go away. Just trust me, okay?” Jared let out a sigh when Jensen didn't respond. “It's actually really great, man. Better than you think. All this stuff, Hell and the Hellhounds...You get to see the other side of it. You're saved by an angel, dude. God orders him to get you out of Hell.” Jensen could feel the reassuring smile that he couldn't exactly see in the frosted glass. “You're gonna make it out of this, man. You got a higher power looking out for you.”
Jensen shifted so that Jared's hand fell off his shoulder, and he couldn't hold back the scoff that left his throat, shaking his head sadly. It hadn't occurred to him until now that the faith he once had had pretty much dwindled down to nothing, which was saying something. Jensen had been raised on strong faith, it was in his blood. But now, he couldn't help but identify with Dean even more as a man of no faith. He felt now that, if God existed, he wouldn't be in this mess. He thought about the anger he'd felt before, wondering what he'd done to deserve this. And the truth was, he'd done nothing. Sure, he wasn't perfect. Nobody was. But he'd lived his life the best he could so far, and he was a good person; far from being someone who deserved Hell. Nobody who'd had the faith that he had and lived life the way he had would be put through this if there was a God. If there was a God, he'd be protected, rewarded. Faith and good behavior were supposed to be intertwined with karma in that way, weren't they? Apparently not. Dean was right. God and angels didn't really exist. There was only random, unpredictable evil. And the problem with that, where he was concerned? He wasn't Dean; not in real life. He didn't have the power or the resources to fight that evil or keep it at bay. Hell, Dean hadn’t even been able stop this. There was nothing he could do to save himself from it. There was no hope.
“What?”
Jensen finally turned to face Jared, still shaking his head bitterly.
“You think God is watching over me?”
“You don't?” Jared asked, folding his arms over his chest and shifting uncomfortably. “Not like you don't believe in God, dude.” Jensen looked away, seeing Jared's face fall out of the corner of his eye, arms dropping back to his sides. “Jensen...Fuck man, you're scaring me. Since when are you an atheist?”
“It doesn't even matter,” Jensen said, brushing past Jared to head for the door. Jared caught him by the arm.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Jensen? Of course it matters!”
One look at Jared's face, at the fear and concern there, and Jensen forced himself to soften things a bit and lessen the blow. Jared was dealing with enough right now.
“Look, all I'm saying is that, with everything that's going on, it kinda makes me question things.”
“Don't let it,” Jared said, relaxing a bit. “I know that's easier said than done, but, come on. You're stronger than that. You know in your heart what's right.” Jared slowly began to smile, and Jensen knew that he was trying to lighten the mood, too. “You know there has to be a God when you've got me in your life, right?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said, after a beat, returning the smile. “Yeah.” He didn't have the heart to tell Jared how he really felt, potentially bring Jared's own faith down with his. And if there was anything he could outright agree with without lying, it was the fact that Jared was a force of good in his life.
During the flight back to Vancouver, Jensen forced himself to read the script, finding that he identified more with Dean Winchester than he ever had in the first place. Dean was faced with an unexpected turn of events with seemingly no explanation, wondering why things were happening to him and who had set everything in motion. He was skeptical and secretive, and still, after all these years, just wanted to keep Sam safe. And Jensen realized, as Jared read the script over his shoulder and excitedly pointed out his favorite parts, that the only thing that mattered to him now was keeping Jared safe. There was a difference, of course. Jensen wasn’t protecting Jared from any sort of demon powers or dangerous creatures. But, even if his own life didn’t matter anymore, the end drawing near, he wanted to protect Jared from those facts. And Jensen was sure that they were, indeed, facts. He was going to die, and he was going to Hell, and there was nothing Jared could do to stop it. But Jensen would never tell Jared that. He couldn’t let Jared lose himself in Jensen’s hell. So, while Jared rambled on about how great the new season would be, and how this would fix all of Jensen’s problems, Jensen glanced at the script one more time before turning a full smile on Jared.
“Maybe you’re right.”
It was a careful deception, Jensen’s acting. He’d found his inspiration in Dean, of course, but Jared could spot Dean from a mile away. Besides, Dean would be back soon, once they started filming, and Jared would notice the character bleed. What Jensen was doing now had to be different from Dean, but different from Jensen also. And it had to be tweaked just right, so that Jared wouldn’t know the difference. He knew he’d scored when Jared, who’d watched him act for hours on end, grinned back at him with a blinding sense of relief and pride. Though Jensen kept his smile on, he suddenly felt a twinge in his chest. This was the beginning of a deep betrayal; one that almost made him question it himself. It almost seemed cruel, allowing Jared to think that he’d found a way to fix things and boost Jensen’s confidence. But, in the end, Jensen got himself firmly under control, telling himself that it wasn’t cruel. This was for Jared. As one of his last acts on Earth, he was giving Jared the sense that he had a purpose, and that he had made a valiant effort to save Jensen before Jensen died. It was a gift and that was all Jensen needed to believe to keep the charade going.
Chapter 5: Doctors and Bracelets
Chapter 2: Blood and Dust
Chapter 3: Cereal and Stitches
Chapter 4: Breakfast and Bathrooms
It had been hours since Jared had forced Jensen to eat something and take some more Motrin, his own stomach grumbling to remind him that he’d somewhat neglected himself in the process. His eyes burned from staring at the laptop screen for too long, and he stood, rubbing his eyes and heading to the kitchen for whatever food he could scrounge up. He needed to buy some more groceries. He’d stopped off to buy enough for a few days when he’d gone out to Jensen’s apartment, and they were running out fast. Grabbing a bag of chips from one of the kitchen cabinets, he strolled back into the living room, the dogs actually begging for attention. He petted them and played with them, watching them lick up the crumbs he spilled onto the carpet, and tried not to think about why they were so lively now. It was either that they’d gotten used to the Hellhound, or they didn’t mind it so much when it was upstairs, waiting for Jensen to leave the bedroom. Or it was a combination of both. Life was really fucked up sometimes.
He flopped back on the couch and flung an arm over his face, Harley nudging at his elbow and licking whatever skin he could find. “How much time?” Jensen had asked. Jared told him it would be enough. He’d promised him that it would be. But after hours of trying to figure out a possible timeline, Jared was stumped. At first, he’d looked up the air date of the season finale, trying to trace it from there. The episode had first aired on May 15th, and Jared had flown back to Vancouver to see Jensen on June 14th, which was when Jensen had been attacked. That was exactly thirty days. The thirty day lag made sense until Jared realized that Jensen had been hearing and seeing Hellhounds well before the episode had aired, while they were still filming. The only thing he could figure now was that the timing depended on the intensity of the fans’ reactions. There had been widespread speculation that Sam wouldn’t be able to save Dean well before anyone had even spoiled themselves for the finale. So, the suggestion of Dean dying led to Jensen hearing a growling noise and possibly seeing black flashes wherever he went. As time went on, and the deal was no closer to being broken, that suggestion grew stronger. The visual of Dean’s death had cemented it, but had also left many fans in a sort of shock. But, by the time Jensen had been attacked, fans the world over had accepted that Dean was rotting in Hell and that he may not be able to find a way out.
It made sense, but it left Jared nowhere. How would he be able to tell when the fans’ reactions would be strong enough to render their protective items useless? It was virtually impossible. He had no idea how to help Jensen, and he had no idea how long he even had to do so. For all he knew, time could run out tomorrow. He shuddered at the thought, swallowing hard. He couldn’t afford to be negative. Not now. Not when Jensen was already falling into that trap. He had to force himself to think positive, be positive, if only for Jensen’s sake. Still, the memory of watching Dean get ripped apart haunted him, and he forced his tired eyes open, those horrific images playing out on the backs of his eyelids. A chill ran through him, his heart thumping with adrenaline even though he wasn’t moving. He’d never been this scared in his life, and he had half a mind to go upstairs and stick close to Jensen, as if just being in the same room with him would help protect him. He struggled with the thought, battling against it. Jensen still needed his privacy, and Jared wasn’t going to worry him more with his own fear. Jared would stick to sleeping on the couch, ignoring the powerful urge to forget about being tired and just watch over Jensen as he slept.
Jared stared up at the ceiling, eyes growing heavy. He worried about Jensen, about the panic attack and the strange, accepting calm that had followed. That almost scared him more than the mystery deadline they were facing. Jared wondered if Jensen really was sleeping upstairs, or if he was too scared. He wondered if he was comfortable enough, and if he felt safe enough in Jared’s bed. He wasn’t sure when he finally drifted off, but he was pretty sure that the last concern that flitted through his sleep deprived brain was whether or not Jensen had thought about him while falling asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen almost woke up expecting his life to be normal again. The deep, dreamless sleep had been so satisfying and unexpected. But everything came crashing down around him when he opened his eyes and realized that he was still in Jared’s bed, jewelry on, surrounded by goofer dust. He might have cried if he thought it would make a difference, but it wouldn’t. There were those times, rare times for most men, when you could let your emotions loose, and, after that, everything would seem a little bit brighter. But this wouldn’t. Imminent death and probable Hell could never seem brighter.
He shifted in bed, putting his glasses on before looking at the clock on the nightstand. Jared should be in there by now. He wasn’t sure why he expected that. He’d just gotten so used to Jared being with him almost every waking moment that it struck him – almost bothered him – when Jared wasn’t there for his…well, waking moment. He shook his head, wondering when he’d hired Jared to be his keeper. The poor guy was probably tired and cramped up on the couch; all 6’4 of him.
Jensen moved to get out of bed, beginning to get used to the lingering pains in his leg. When he opened the door to the bedroom, he had the sickening realization that he was almost used to seeing Hellhounds, too. Not quite, but almost. After all, they did still carry that threat of Hell. He still found it odd, the way that he could maneuver around them without them attacking him. He briefly wondered what it would feel like if he could somehow reach out and touch them, and then shook his head, deciding that he didn’t really want to know.
He paused halfway down the stairs, catching sight of Jared sprawled on the couch, limbs curled in towards his body and twisted at awkward angles. That couldn’t be comfortable. And yet, Jared’s face was so peaceful and serene, stray locks of hair casting soft shadows over it.
Cautiously descending the rest of the stairs, Jensen took in the lights, the open and plugged-in laptop on the coffee table, and the blanket and pillow on the floor beside the couch. The sight of Jared squeezing himself onto the couch so that Jensen could have his bed was enough. But to see that Jared had clearly passed out from staying up too late trying to work out ways to save him? That was too much. As quietly as he could, he crossed the living room to the couch, turned the lights off, and bent to retrieve the pillow and blanket. He covered Jared first, Jared instinctively snuggling down into the warmth. Then, nearly holding his breath as he did so, he gently lifted Jared’s head, fitting the pillow down beneath it.
Satisfied that Jared was still asleep and (hopefully) more comfortable, Jensen turned to move towards the kitchen, freezing when a crinkling sound filled the air. Peering back over his shoulder, he saw that Jared hadn’t moved. He lifted his foot, staring down at a half-eaten bag of chips. There was something so genuinely Jared about that, that he had to smile. He picked it up off the floor and took it out to the kitchen, rolling it up and setting it on the counter.
“Hey, Sadie, Harley,” he whispered softly, even though he knew they wouldn’t respond. They cowered at the back door, staring at him with sad brown eyes, eventually growling at the figure he could see just out of the corner of his eye. “I know,” he said, reaching for their bowls, so he could fill them with food and water. “I know.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jared woke to the smell of breakfast. Breakfast? He opened his eyes and moved around a little, stretching sore limbs and pulling the blanket higher. Blanket? He sat up, working out the kinks in his neck, brain still a bit fuzzy.
“Hey.” Jensen suddenly came strolling into the living room, glasses on, plate and utensils in hand. “How about some breakfast in couch?”
“Jensen?” Jared took the plate Jensen offered him, his stomach growling immediately at the sight of pancakes and bacon. He held off eating to look back up at his friend. “How long have you been up?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jensen shrugged, sitting down next to him. “I just figured you might need a heartier meal than that late night bag of chips.”
Jared had never found anyone more confusing than Jensen in a crisis. Not that he’d ever really experienced Jensen in a crisis, which was probably why this was so confusing. Jensen turning the tables and taking care of him both warmed him and worried him, if only for the reason that Jensen’s moods had changed so much since this all began. Just yesterday, Jensen was all vulnerable and scared in his arms. Now he was bringing Jared breakfast. Jared sighed and grabbed his fork, glancing at Jensen apologetically as he sliced into the pancakes.
“I slept too late.”
“There’s no such thing,” Jensen said, smiling and reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You need your rest, Padalecki.”
“You didn’t have to…” Jared pointed at his plate with his fork, busily chewing a crispy piece of bacon. Damn. Why hadn’t he known Jensen could do this?
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to fly back to Vancouver, rescue me from Hellhounds, take me in, call in favors for me, and sleep on the couch, but you did,” Jensen replied, glancing at Jared with a mixture of shame and guilt. Jared stopped chewing.
“I wanted to do those things, Jensen.”
“And I wanted to make you breakfast,” Jensen countered without hesitation, smiling brightly at him again.
Christ. If only he could keep that smile on Jensen’s face. But, chances were, it would be gone in a matter of minutes. He wanted to continue the conversation, tell Jensen that he’d never owe him anything for this. But that would kill Jensen’s happiness a lot quicker. Besides, the simplicity of Jensen’s last statement had done enough to bring a smile to his own face. In spite of the circumstances regarding their current arrangements, this moment had Jared wondering why they’d never done this before. Living with Jensen would probably be just as easy as working with Jensen. Which pretty much meant that living with Jensen would be easier than living with anyone he’d ever lived with, including his family, as much as he loved them. But maybe it would be overkill after all those long days at work. Jared somehow doubted that. But maybe it would be.
“So, did you find anything?” Jensen asked, grabbing for the laptop and settling down into the couch cushion with it. Jared hesitated, not wanting to admit that he’d found nothing. “Hey, you have a reminder coming up on your calendar on here, you know that?”
“Really?” Jared breathed, thankful for the change in subject. “What for?”
“Oh.”
“Jensen?”
Jared had seen plenty of different emotions on Jensen’s face, whether it was when he was playing Dean, or in real life, especially in the past months. But one thing Jared didn’t see often in Jensen was disappointment. He’d seen everything from ruthless anger, to unbridled happiness, to heart-stopping fear, but never pure, unadulterated disappointment. That was the look on Jensen’s face as he stared at Jared’s laptop, his face just falling, and Jared hoped he’d never have to see it again.
“Jensen?” he prodded.
“You…You’re supposed to go to Australia?”
“Shit!” Jared’s eyes widened, and he put his plate down on the coffee table, turning the laptop towards him. “Supanova in Sydney, fuck!”
“It’s okay.” Jared looked over at Jensen, suddenly calm and stone-faced again. “It’s this weekend, dude. You should start packing.”
“What? Jensen,” he grabbed the laptop and set it back down on the table, next to the remnants of his breakfast, “I’m not leaving you here. Not like this.”
“It’s okay,” Jensen repeated, shrugging his shoulders.
“Dude…what’s,” Jared started, then closed his mouth. He was more than concerned with the way Jensen had been acting lately. But as much as he wanted to come straight out and ask what the hell was wrong with Jensen, he knew that could go one of two ways. One, Jensen would break down and admit that something was wrong and he was fucked. Two, Jensen would get all defensive and shut down, keeping more from Jared than he already was. And the former was highly unlikely. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not leaving, okay. Even if you say that I can, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you like this. There’s too much going on here.”
“You’ve already canceled on others,” Jensen protested, sounding genuinely interested now. “Everybody knows I dropped out of the movie, and I’ve been MIA for a while. You can’t do the same thing. People will get suspicious!”
“Of what?” Jared countered. “Look, if it comes up, everybody just finds out the same stuff you told your mom. And I’m just here helping you out. You’re my best friend, and you’re in the middle of a crisis, that’s a good enough excuse!”
“But I don’t want that!” Jensen’s voice rose, causing Jensen to look just as surprised as Jared was. Jensen fidgeted and settled himself. “There’s probably enough talk about me already because of the movie, and because I haven’t been…around. And I just…I don’t want there to be more than there already is, and I don’t want to have to tell people anything. I don’t want people to know anything.”
“Jensen,” Jared scooted closer and put his hand over Jensen’s on the couch cushion, “We don’t even know how much time you have left. I couldn’t figure it out,” he admitted softly, disturbed by the way Jensen’s expression remained completely neutral. “If I left, and something happened…”
“You couldn’t do anything to save me if you were here, Jared.” Jared’s harsh and sorrowful stare made him flinch and look away, cheeks coloring, a chink in the armor. “Besides, what if you could learn something there? I mean, if someone brings something up about the show, you know, what if it jogs your memory, or something?”
Damn. Jensen kind of had a point there.
“Come with me,” Jared said, demanding. “Hell, your shit’s already packed. We’ll go there together; nobody even has to know you’re in the country. You can hide out in the hotel while I’m at the convention. You’re coming,” he insisted when Jensen opened his mouth to protest. “And that’s final.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jensen had never really been afraid of flying, unlike Dean. He often slept on planes, even through significant amounts of turbulence. But this was different. There had never been a Hellhound pacing the aisle before. If he thought he’d gotten used to having Hellhounds around, he’d been wrong. He sat by the window, his head against it, sweat beading on his forehead, hands gripping the arms of the seat until his knuckles turned white. He’d dealt with Hellhounds following him around Vancouver, his apartment, and Jared’s house. But being suddenly thrust into close quarters and stuck thousands of feet in the air with a Hellhound was a bit more than he could handle.
Jared’s fingers would brush his every so often, and he’d let out a shuddering breath and a curse, wanting nothing more than to be back on the fucking ground, where he could at least run if the Hellhound tried to jump him.
“You’re a genius, Jared.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Once again, he had to remind himself that snapping at Jared would get him nowhere. He just hated being this scared, this vulnerable. He’d been strung out and pissed ever since he’d stepped foot out of Jared’s house on the way to the airport. It had been a little while since he’d dealt with this many people out in public, and it was the first time he’d been out in public since he’d been attacked. And on top of everything else, that made him a bit paranoid. He was somehow convinced that anybody looking at him could see something was wrong, would know that he’d gone off the deep end. He’d trembled uncontrollably all through the airport, and it took everything in him not to start screaming when they sat at their gate, waiting to board. It was too much. Over and over again, he’d think to himself that it was too much, too much pressure and intensity, and then he’d have to remind himself to breath, and Jared would find some way to touch him in an effort to calm him down. Every few minutes, he was certain he was about to break, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. And they were flying to Australia. Wonderful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heading back to his room to collect Jensen and their luggage, Jared shook his head in frustration. He’d come here and learned nothing. If anything, as he slid his key in the lock, he felt more disheartened than he had before, especially after one of the fans had asked him if Jensen was actually signed on for season four. Christ, if some of them weren’t even sure about that…
Holy shit. It had just him like a punch, and it was so fucking simple. How had he not seen this before?
He flung the door open, stepped in, and slammed it behind him, Jensen staring at him questioningly.
“I am such a fucking idiot,” he deadpanned, almost breathless from his sudden revelation.
“Well, I could’ve told you that, Jared,” Jensen responded with a smirk. And while Jared was happy to have a piece of the old jokester Jensen back, he was too caught up in his discovery to truly appreciate it. He crossed the room to where Jensen had thrown his suitcase on the bed, repacking things he’d used during their stay, and stood directly in front of him, gripping his shoulder.
“I know how to save you.”
“What?” Jensen swallowed, his eyes more hopeful than they had been since this had started, and the toiletry items he held fell from his fingers, bouncing on the bed.
“These conventions, Jensen!” Jared exclaimed. “They’re the answer!”
“What do you mean?” Jensen asked, his eyes clouding over with doubt again.
“Look, the fans think Dean’s in Hell, right? They think he isn’t coming back; that maybe you’re not coming back. But once they realize Dean’s getting out of Hell,” Jared explained, “They’ll accept that he’s out and alive again, and you’ll be safe! If we go to Comic Con like we’re supposed to, we can spread the word, and you’ll be there, and it’ll be fixed! Jensen?” The words had started pouring out of him excitedly, but Jensen just stood there, numb, eyes misting over slightly. “Dude…what’s wrong? This is your out, man!”
“Jared,” Jensen shook his head slowly, “I…Man.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his lengthening hair. “When you said you knew how to save me, I thought it was something that we could do, you know, now. I’m already afraid, man,” he admitted, his voice wavering a bit. “I’m already afraid of the things I’ll have to do to seem normal. I mean, going back to set, and filming, and interviews, and the convention, God…” His voice broke, and he lowered his head in his hands, Jared sitting down beside him. “I just don’t know,” he said, looking up at Jared and blinking furiously, “If I can do this. I don’t know how long I can hold on and do these things when I have this hanging over my head.”
“You can do it,” Jared encouraged quietly, his heart clenching in his chest. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting at all. He thought he’d be lifting Jensen’s spirits, not breaking them more. “You’re strong, Jensen. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re also the best fucking actor I know. You’re great at your work, man. That’s how you can get through this. Just do your job.”
Jensen hesitated, as if considering what Jared had just said, but still overwhelmingly downcast.
“We don’t even know what’s happening with the show yet,” Jensen said finally. “We don’t know if Dean gets out of Hell, how long it would take him to get out, if he ends up turning into something that he’s not. And Comic Con…That isn’t even until the end of July, Jared. It’s over a month away. And we don’t know how much time I have.”
Jensen was right. Jared didn’t want to admit it, but Jensen was right. Jared was going on full optimism, but they still didn’t know anything.
“Okay,” Jared said, trying his best to still sound (and feel) positive. “Look, we’re supposed to get the script for the first episode in a couple days. That’s when we’ll know for sure that Dean comes back.” Jensen looked at him doubtfully, and Jared fixed him with a convincing Sam stare. “Come on, Jensen. You know Eric’s bringing you back. There’s no way he’s leaving Dean in Hell. He’s coming back, and you’re gonna be fine. Just give it a couple days, and you’ll see.”
“Right.” Jensen stood and tensely resumed packing. “Can we just go home now?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was weird, how weird it didn’t feel to refer to Jared’s place as “home.” He almost felt guilty about it not feeling weird, like that was just how much he’d taken over Jared’s life recently. He wondered if Jared resented him for it. Sure, Jared never acted like he did, but he had to on some level. Who wouldn’t?
“You’re more relaxed this time.”
“What?” Jensen stared at Jared blankly until realization dawned. They were halfway through their flight home, and Jensen had just been sitting quietly; no gripping of the armrests, no panting or sweating, and no cursing every five seconds. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”
What he wanted to say was, “Thanks a lot for reminding me, jackass!” But then how would he explain that, no, he hadn’t even been paying attention to the Hellhound, because he was too busy obsessing over whether or not Jared hated him? And then he thought about how not weird it felt for Jared to be such a presence in his mind that he could ignore Hellhounds on a plane. Until Jared pointed them out, of course.
Who the hell was he kidding? No matter what, he’d eventually come back to this. He had to. It was always there, hanging over him, and there was no way out. Well, Jared thought there was. But there was no way that could work. He tried to feel the optimism that Jared had, but he just couldn’t reach it. He felt horrible for thinking this, but he almost wished that Jared had just never said anything. It was hard enough losing all hope before, and having to accept that. But to have it given back to him for a few measly seconds before it was all ripped away again? That was just torture. It was cruel and unfair, and it made him hate his life even more. What the hell had he done to end up so completely and utterly doomed?
It was that moment that his bladder began to make an insistent request, and he adjusted himself in his seat, cursing quietly.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Jensen replied, a little too quickly, and Jared eyed him until he felt uncomfortable and his bladder surged again. “Oh, what the fucking hell?!”
“Jensen?” Jared was fully turned towards him now, hands on him and eyes filled with concern. “Jensen, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Jensen snapped, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “It’s just…I really have to piss.”
“Oh.” Jared backed off, unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to stand. “Just tell me dude, I’ll get out of your way.”
Jensen wanted to protest, but Jared was already standing in the aisle, and Jensen couldn’t stop himself from glaring. Jared actually took a step back, looking wide-eyed and innocent, and like he was wondering why the hell Jensen was so mad at him. The urgency of Jensen’s need hit him, and he cursed and grabbed his crotch, ignoring the shocked and somewhat appalled look Jared gave him as he stood and made his way to the bathroom. What he hadn’t had time to explain to Jared, was that having to piss in the middle of the flight wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he pretty much never wanted to find out if the Hellhound would follow him into the tiny room. Because that was one mile high club he didn’t want to be a part of. At least there was space in the bathroom at home. He practically sprinted to the bathroom, sliding the door open and then closing it again behind him, the Hellhound growling from the other side of it.
“Oh, thank fuck!” Jensen exclaimed in relief, briefly embarrassed that he may have been loud enough for others to hear him, before fumbling with his zipper and finally pulling his dick out, heaving a sigh and leaning against the wall as he pissed into the open toilet.
He knew he was fucked up when he started thinking while he was relieving himself. And not just random, odd thoughts, either, but those deep, penetrating thoughts that usually kept people up at night. You know, things like the meaning of life, and the role of fate, and all that other crap that he’d usually push aside to worry about later, when he was on his deathbed, or something. Of course, he was sort of at that point now, wasn’t he? So, maybe it wasn’t all that fucked up that he was having revelations while taking a piss in an airplane bathroom. And the atmosphere kind of helped. He hadn’t expected to feel so safe in here. Hell, he had been terrified to come in. But, even though he was still thousands of feet in the air, the Hellhound was locked outside, and he was no longer cramped next to Jared, worrying just how transparent he was being. It was strange, but he somehow felt like he’d just escaped all the pressures in his life.
It took him a minute to realize that he’d finished pissing, and was still holding himself in his hand, suddenly realizing that there was more than one way for him to relieve himself in here. He hadn’t touched himself in a while, not even in the rare instances when he’d wanted to. It felt too damn weird to do it in Jared’s house. And that was one thing he was happy to still feel weird about. At first, he was surprised that he didn’t have any reservations about jerking off right then and there. Jensen was usually so much of a private person. Not that he wasn’t alone right now, but…he’d usually still be self-conscious about it, and hold off until later. But, fuck it. Like he’d just realized a minute ago, he was practically on his deathbed. Why couldn’t he do this for himself, enjoy himself, just for the sake of doing it? What did it matter?
He closed his eyes, slowly running his hand up and down his shaft. He searched his mind for images of the last person he’d been with and came up with Danneel…who’d broken up with him after he’d been an asshole and ditched her for two months. He bit his lip at the painful memory, continuing to touch himself in vain. Fuck this. Fuck her. What had she ever done for him, anyway? It’s not like it was his fault. It was his fucking life. Fuck his life. What the fuck had he done to deserve this? He felt his cock jerk and stiffen in his palm as anger boiled beneath his skin, and he tightened his fist around it, the rough push-pull drag of skin on skin just the right side of painful.
But his anger slowly ebbed away and became something he was a lot more used to these days: a bitter, self-effacing hopelessness. He wasn’t sure why he’d let himself get so worked up over this, when he knew. He knew how wrong he was. What right did he have to be angry? He’d screwed things up with Danneel, and everyone else. He knew that. And now he was blaming her, and feeling angry with her, just so he could get off? The truth was, there was nobody he could blame but himself, and there was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. The truth was, he was more pathetic than he’d ever been, and there was no sense in trying anymore.
“Pathetic,” he thought to himself, still roughly jerking his dick in his hand. He could feel now that this was definitely not the right side of painful, but he ground himself through it, anyway, feeling so disgusted with himself that tears pricked at his eyes. He’d never hated himself so much in his life. “So fucking pathetic.”
He froze at the knock on the door, his hand stilling on his rapidly softening dick.
“Jensen? Jensen, are you alright?”
Oh, fuck. Of course Jared had to catch him at a time like this. He turned to look in the mirror, satisfied that his eyes were dry, and shamefully tucked himself back into his pants. Yeah, sure, he was fine. He was simply indulging in a painful masturbation session that nearly brought him to tears.
“Is it out here?” Jared whispered through the door. “Is that why you’re not coming out?”
Jensen flushed the toilet and opened the door, brushing past Jared and marching back to his seat without saying a word. He kept his head turned to the window, unable to look at Jared, who paused before finally taking up his seat again. Jensen could see Jared’s reflection in the window, could see Jared glancing at him, his face flaming red.
“Sorry,” Jared muttered, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean, if…if I interrupted…”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“Don’t be,” Jensen said quickly, turning even farther away from Jared, if possible.
“I was just worried about you.”
Jensen didn’t answer, just closed his eyes. This wasn’t fair. Forget life not being fair to him. It wasn’t a question of that anymore. But none of this was fair to Jared. Jared shouldn’t have to go through this, worrying about him all the time. All he’d been, ever since he’d called Jared back to Vancouver, was a burden. He’d done such a piss poor job of dealing with his own problems that he’d gone and fucked Jared’s life up as well. It would’ve been better if he’d never called. It would’ve been better if Jared had never known. It would’ve been better if he had stayed at home, alone, and died quietly, without anyone ever knowing the cause.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It hadn’t taken Jared long to figure out that Jensen’s moods came and went in cycles. Whenever Jensen was like this, in one of his downward spirals, Jared tried to comfort himself by thinking that it would all be over soon. That Jensen would be back to smiling and laughing with him again. That he just had to help him through this rough patch before he could relax for a while. But he also realized that the downward spirals were lasting longer, the upswings limited to maybe one half-smile before they were gone again. Jared found himself keeping a closer eye on Jensen, not risking oversleeping again, most of their time spent in silence.
“You don’t think he could just fax it to us, or something?”
Jared looked up from his bowl of cereal, surprised to find Jensen looking back at him. There was a guarded nervousness in his eyes, just barely given away by the light drumming of his fingertips on the dining room table. Jared shook his head, pushing away the cereal box with the distracting colorful maze on the back.
“He said he wanted to meet with us,” Jared blurted out, realizing his mistake only after he’d spoken, and forcing himself to look casual.
“He…what?” Jensen licked his lips and leaned forward, his fingers stilling on the tabletop. “When did you talk to him?”
“You were asleep,” Jared mumbled through his last mouthful of cereal.
“What did you tell him?”
The question was inevitable. Jared knew it, and he still hesitated to answer it. He didn’t want to lie to Jensen, but the truth wasn’t looking so great, either. Of course, Eric had to know that something was up with Jensen. Everyone knew something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. In all honesty, Jared probably hadn’t helped matters much. It was just as Jensen had said; trying to reassure someone that everything was alright while being vague about the problems you were having tended to only make them worry about you more. Besides, Eric and the crew were counting on Jensen coming back and cranking out top-notch performances, which would seem questionable to them if Jensen’s headspace wasn’t so clear. He’d eventually argued Eric into accepting his word that Jensen would be fine, and hastily pleaded with him to refrain from asking Jensen about what went wrong over the break. He didn’t want Jensen to feel more uncomfortable than he already would be at this meeting.
“I told him everything was fine,” Jared said, shrugging. “He’s cool.”
Jared was a little disturbed when Jensen did nothing but nod with a faraway look in his eyes, expecting some sort of fight or argument to come out of this. Instead, he was treated to the same silence he’d been experiencing since their flight back to Vancouver. The silence lasted through their next flight to L.A., their ride to the writers’ room, and even through most of the greetings, Jensen merely nodding to everyone as they shook hands. Jared returned Eric’s look of concern with one of confidence, silently willing Jensen to act like his normal self.
“So, how was your break, guys?” Eric asked casually, his eyes flicking back and forth between Jared and Jensen.
“Fine,” Jared answered hurriedly when Jensen fidgeted and gave him a pleading look. “Yeah, it was fine.” He pasted a smile on his face. “Just hung out in Vancouver for a little while, you know?”
“And the movie? How badass was Jason, huh?”
Jared looked over at Jensen, saw him tense and lower his head, eyes fixed on the wood of the long table they were seated at. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten so good at reading Jensen's mind, but he knew that the mention of his movie could raise questions about the one that Jensen dropped out of, which would ultimately make Jensen nervous. Jared guessed it was also a reminder of what Jensen's summer was supposed to have been like. Even for Jared, this meeting right now, with upbeat tones and excited eyes on him, was a shock to his system. He knew it had to be worse for Jensen; something like a cruel joke. His life had been turned into a nightmare, being forced to live out the life of the character these very people wrote for him, and now here they were, asking how his summer was. They had no idea. For a brief moment, Jared looked around the room at the people he'd grown to know as some sort of crazy extended family: Eric, Kim, Sera, Ben. And, for a brief moment, he felt angry with them. Jensen was sitting here, a marked man, Hellhound probably in the room, all because of them. They'd come up with the story, written the lines, produced the show, and happily handed over scripts that all of them thought were so badass. And now, here they were, ready to do it again, with no idea of what they were doing. How could they not know? How could they not know that they'd practically sentenced Jensen to death?
He knew it was irrational to even ask those questions. Because, in all honesty, the real question was, “How could they know?” None of this made sense. And placing blame didn't make any sense, either. Hell, he could blame the fans if he wanted to. It was ironic, to think that such a blessing could be such a curse. Here were all these people who were so touched and in touch with their characters. They loved Sam and Dean, believed in them. At any other time, that would be a Godsend. It would be something that would make both Jared and Jensen swell with pride, because they were obviously doing their jobs right. All the hard work and long hours were paying off. And instead, they were faced with this, the attention from the fans so strong that it was pretty much killing them. Shit, the higher-ups were never allowed to complain about ratings again. They clearly weren't a problem.
“Oh, man,” Jared grinned widely. “Jason was fuckin' awesome.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We have shit that's better than Jason.”
Jensen glanced up at Ben Edlund, the guy who looked more like the front man of a rock band than one of Kripke's crew. He took in the cool smirk on Ben's face and wondered for a minute if this was all some sort of massive and sadistic practical joke. After all, Jensen was well aware that these people had created things much nastier than Jason. He half expected the whole room to burst out into laughter within the next few seconds, all joyous faces and pointing fingers in his direction. But he could feel concerned eyes burning through his skin, Kim Manners' in particular. The man had directed him through many of the most emotional scenes on the show, watching him torture himself enough to feel Dean's pain, and as much as Kim joked that he wanted to kill Jensen and Jared both after a long day on set, Jensen knew that Kim cared about them way more than he let on. He hated it, that concern. It was the same as with Jared. He was bringing them all down, making them all worry about something that they could do nothing to fix, although Jared thought otherwise. Christ, if they'd only stop looking at him like that.
“You boys ready for the new season?”
“Absolutely,” Jensen replied immediately, staring back at Kim with his game face on, smile intact, even if it did waver a bit.
He caught a twitch in Jared's posture, a slight sign that the supposed change in Jensen's mood had caught him by surprise, but he was fairly certain that no one else in the room could read Jared the way he could. The corner of Kim's lips curled the slightest bit upwards, but he continued to hold Jensen's gaze, suspicion written on his features. Jensen tried his best to hold his ground, telling himself that it's what Dean would do, dammit. But, in the end, he was forced to look away, Sera's gentle hand on his bicep a welcome distraction.
“We have such great plans for Dean this season!” She smiled at him, her eyes wide with the wild excitement she always expressed when talking about the show. “You're gonna love it!”
“Yeah, I'll bet,” Jensen said, grinning at her before turning his attention to the entire room. He inclined his head in Jared's direction. “So, what does this idiot do to get me out of hell?”
“That's the awesome part,” Eric said, sliding scripts over the table to him and Jared. And if Jensen hadn't felt doomed before, he did now. The glee in Eric's expression could only mean one thing. “He doesn't.”
“What?”
Jared spoke before Jensen could, and Jensen was pretty sure that, this time, everybody was able to pick up on Jared's twitches, the quiver in his voice. Jensen's eyes were on the table again. He could feel Jared's horror and dismay, and hated himself again for causing this. He knew Jared was counting on this script as part of his big plan, and now it was sounding like Dean would rot in Hell for much longer than they thought. He knew that Jared would be heartbroken if he was wrong about Dean getting out, and he wished again that he'd never pulled Jared into this.
“He doesn't!” Eric repeated cheerfully. “Sam's tried everything to get Dean out, but he just fucking can't! It's fucking brilliant! Dean's been stuck rotting away in Hell for four fucking months, man!”
A sudden, deafening silence filled the room, and Jensen broke it by pushing his chair back away from the table. He had to get out of there. He couldn't stand to watch Jared suffer for him anymore.
“I, uh...Sorry, I just need the bathroom,” he muttered, eyes on the floor as he walked out, closing the door behind him.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing at the bathroom window, a Hellhound standing at the ready behind him. Even when Jared came in, he'd heard the sound, but it hadn't really registered, the hand suddenly squeezing his shoulder a jolt back to reality.
“Hey,” Jared said softly, not waiting for a response. “It's not as bad as it sounded, alright? Dean still comes back, it's just...not the way we thought he would. But this can still work. As soon as word gets out, and we go to the convention and everything, this'll all go away. Just trust me, okay?” Jared let out a sigh when Jensen didn't respond. “It's actually really great, man. Better than you think. All this stuff, Hell and the Hellhounds...You get to see the other side of it. You're saved by an angel, dude. God orders him to get you out of Hell.” Jensen could feel the reassuring smile that he couldn't exactly see in the frosted glass. “You're gonna make it out of this, man. You got a higher power looking out for you.”
Jensen shifted so that Jared's hand fell off his shoulder, and he couldn't hold back the scoff that left his throat, shaking his head sadly. It hadn't occurred to him until now that the faith he once had had pretty much dwindled down to nothing, which was saying something. Jensen had been raised on strong faith, it was in his blood. But now, he couldn't help but identify with Dean even more as a man of no faith. He felt now that, if God existed, he wouldn't be in this mess. He thought about the anger he'd felt before, wondering what he'd done to deserve this. And the truth was, he'd done nothing. Sure, he wasn't perfect. Nobody was. But he'd lived his life the best he could so far, and he was a good person; far from being someone who deserved Hell. Nobody who'd had the faith that he had and lived life the way he had would be put through this if there was a God. If there was a God, he'd be protected, rewarded. Faith and good behavior were supposed to be intertwined with karma in that way, weren't they? Apparently not. Dean was right. God and angels didn't really exist. There was only random, unpredictable evil. And the problem with that, where he was concerned? He wasn't Dean; not in real life. He didn't have the power or the resources to fight that evil or keep it at bay. Hell, Dean hadn’t even been able stop this. There was nothing he could do to save himself from it. There was no hope.
“What?”
Jensen finally turned to face Jared, still shaking his head bitterly.
“You think God is watching over me?”
“You don't?” Jared asked, folding his arms over his chest and shifting uncomfortably. “Not like you don't believe in God, dude.” Jensen looked away, seeing Jared's face fall out of the corner of his eye, arms dropping back to his sides. “Jensen...Fuck man, you're scaring me. Since when are you an atheist?”
“It doesn't even matter,” Jensen said, brushing past Jared to head for the door. Jared caught him by the arm.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Jensen? Of course it matters!”
One look at Jared's face, at the fear and concern there, and Jensen forced himself to soften things a bit and lessen the blow. Jared was dealing with enough right now.
“Look, all I'm saying is that, with everything that's going on, it kinda makes me question things.”
“Don't let it,” Jared said, relaxing a bit. “I know that's easier said than done, but, come on. You're stronger than that. You know in your heart what's right.” Jared slowly began to smile, and Jensen knew that he was trying to lighten the mood, too. “You know there has to be a God when you've got me in your life, right?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said, after a beat, returning the smile. “Yeah.” He didn't have the heart to tell Jared how he really felt, potentially bring Jared's own faith down with his. And if there was anything he could outright agree with without lying, it was the fact that Jared was a force of good in his life.
During the flight back to Vancouver, Jensen forced himself to read the script, finding that he identified more with Dean Winchester than he ever had in the first place. Dean was faced with an unexpected turn of events with seemingly no explanation, wondering why things were happening to him and who had set everything in motion. He was skeptical and secretive, and still, after all these years, just wanted to keep Sam safe. And Jensen realized, as Jared read the script over his shoulder and excitedly pointed out his favorite parts, that the only thing that mattered to him now was keeping Jared safe. There was a difference, of course. Jensen wasn’t protecting Jared from any sort of demon powers or dangerous creatures. But, even if his own life didn’t matter anymore, the end drawing near, he wanted to protect Jared from those facts. And Jensen was sure that they were, indeed, facts. He was going to die, and he was going to Hell, and there was nothing Jared could do to stop it. But Jensen would never tell Jared that. He couldn’t let Jared lose himself in Jensen’s hell. So, while Jared rambled on about how great the new season would be, and how this would fix all of Jensen’s problems, Jensen glanced at the script one more time before turning a full smile on Jared.
“Maybe you’re right.”
It was a careful deception, Jensen’s acting. He’d found his inspiration in Dean, of course, but Jared could spot Dean from a mile away. Besides, Dean would be back soon, once they started filming, and Jared would notice the character bleed. What Jensen was doing now had to be different from Dean, but different from Jensen also. And it had to be tweaked just right, so that Jared wouldn’t know the difference. He knew he’d scored when Jared, who’d watched him act for hours on end, grinned back at him with a blinding sense of relief and pride. Though Jensen kept his smile on, he suddenly felt a twinge in his chest. This was the beginning of a deep betrayal; one that almost made him question it himself. It almost seemed cruel, allowing Jared to think that he’d found a way to fix things and boost Jensen’s confidence. But, in the end, Jensen got himself firmly under control, telling himself that it wasn’t cruel. This was for Jared. As one of his last acts on Earth, he was giving Jared the sense that he had a purpose, and that he had made a valiant effort to save Jensen before Jensen died. It was a gift and that was all Jensen needed to believe to keep the charade going.
Chapter 5: Doctors and Bracelets
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 03:16 pm (UTC)Jensen is acting... to protect Jared... so nice and lovely man!!! *sigh*
no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 10:40 pm (UTC)Ok, so I'm speculating, but it's what I do, lol.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-21 10:21 pm (UTC)I really can't read this fast enough!
no subject
Date: 2008-11-22 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-24 03:25 pm (UTC)Cat
no subject
Date: 2008-11-25 05:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-26 09:12 pm (UTC)I'm totally lost right now, espacially for the fact I have to cut it once more. Suspence is killing me...
no subject
Date: 2008-11-28 04:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-09 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-10 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-13 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 05:46 am (UTC)In all this commotion, this line put a smile on my face:
>>>>
"You know there has to be a God when you've got me in your life, right?”
>>>>
Thanks for sharing this.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-15 05:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-05 11:17 am (UTC)