Chapter Nine

 

ANDREI hovered in the doorway to the house he had shared with Dean, finding it hard to take that last step across the threshold. He had to sometime. He couldn’t avoid this place forever. Clutching the manila envelope in his hand, Andrei shifted his overnight bag and laptop on his shoulder and forced himself to enter. It was just a house, a shell, nothing more, nothing to act like a pansy over.

He flipped on a radio to fill the silence and left his bags on the floor of the living room. Still clutching the envelope, he grabbed a bottle of vodka and a glass before sitting down on the couch and setting all three items on the table in front of him.

He was still numb from his argument with Justin. No matter what he had said, no matter the evidence he’d presented or the theories he’d laid out, none of it had been enough to sway the detective. Not when the DA was fully intent on prosecuting the wrong schmuck for Dean’s murder and fighting with the Feds over jurisdiction. Fucking politics. God damn them all.

Andrei poured a glass of vodka with a surprisingly steady hand and sat back with his glass, eyeing the envelope as if it were a viper coiled and ready to bite him. As he lifted the glass to his lips, Dean walked through the front door and paused, frowning at him. Andrei’s heart stuttered and twisted.

“Just in time,” Andrei murmured before tossing back the drink. The vodka flowed smoothly down his throat, though it did nothing to fill the hollow ache inside him. “You might not want to stick around. I think it’s going to get ugly.”

The furrow between Dean’s brow grew as he sat down on the couch next to him with an unspoken question in his eyes. Andrei could see him as clearly this time as he’d ever seen his sister. The only other time he’d seen Dean this solid he’d been kissed breathless. This time his hand shook as he poured himself another glass.

“Politics. That’s why I never would’ve made it in the police force, iubito. Fucking politics. I have no stomach for that game. We’ve got a woman hell-bent on making a public stand against illegal immigration, so they’ve pounced on the first plausible suspect they had simply because of the color of his skin and the fact that he doesn’t have a U.S. citizenship.”

Andrei downed that glass too, not looking at Dean. He didn’t need to see his expression to know that he disapproved of him drinking like this. “So the case is closed. Your body has been released so your parents can go ahead with your funeral, and they’ve all but given up on finding those kids. That I agree with. With as long as that sadistic bastard’s had them, they’re as dead as you are.”

Andrei jumped as Dean’s fist came down on the table hard enough to make the envelope shift. He ignored the sudden thumping of his heart and set the empty glass down. “I can’t be as single-minded as you. I can’t push everything aside every second in pursuit of some greater good that will make no difference in the long run. There’s always going to be more perverts and murderers and so-called parents who abandon their kids. Life fucking sucks that way.” All he had left in him was vengeance. And right now, even that felt so fucking empty.

He had a black hole inside of him, and inch by inch it ate him alive. Dean was dead. It had hit him like a bat to the side of the head when Justin had handed him the envelope. Andrei grabbed it off the table, tore it open, and spilled the contents out onto the polished surface of the table. Keys jangled and a ring bounced and rolled before finally coming to a stop.

Andrei stirred it with his finger, a woven white gold band that matched the one on his own hand. It seemed incredibly sad to him that a man’s last moments in life could be reduced to the contents of an envelope. Dean’s hand stretched out over his, though for some reason, this time Andrei didn’t even feel the brief flutter of a touch.

“Andrei.”

The sound of Dean’s voice was so soft, a bare whisper that fluttered along all the raw places inside Andrei, a sigh that did nothing to fill the ache. He swallowed around the tightness in his throat and reached for the bottle of vodka again.

 

 

DEAN paced along the couch where Andrei had passed out cold. No sooner would Andrei wake up half-sober than he’d find another bottle of something and drink himself into a stupor again. This wasn’t mourning, it was avoidance, and it did him nothing but harm. With each minute, Blake got farther away with those kids, and if something happened to them because he’d delayed hunting them down, Andrei would never forgive himself.

Not that Dean wasn’t doing some avoiding of his own. Maybe he was single-mindedly fixated on Inez and Tristan and ignoring what Andrei was going through, but dammit he did not know how to comfort him, not when Andrei couldn’t hear him, not when he couldn’t touch him. He felt the seconds ticking away inside of him. A part of him knew that he was locked on that one moment, that one need, and unable to look toward the future until those kids were found.

He grabbed the pillow out from underneath Andrei’s head and thwapped him with it to no effect. Andrei continued to snore; even in sleep his face was drawn with lines of unhappiness. The funeral was tomorrow, and Andrei had not bothered to answer any calls from Dean’s family or Justin, or call them back. His mom must be going nuts worrying about Andrei, and that pissed him off too.

Dean would’ve shook him if he dared touch him. Agitated, he kicked one of the empty bottles, and it hurtled across the room before shattering against the wall. Andrei sat up, groping for his gun as he looked around the room with a bleary gaze. “Who’s there?”

He uncoiled himself from the couch, holding the gun in a surprisingly steady hand as he searched the room again. “Dean?”

Instinct overrode conscious thought, and Dean grabbed ahold of Andrei’s wrist and pulled the gun from his grip, flipping the safety back on. The thought of Andrei waving around a loaded gun in his state scared the bejeezus out of Dean. “N-need to-to t-talk.” He tossed the gun down on the couch.

Andrei gasped, his red-rimmed eyes widening as he took in Dean standing next to him, and Dean dropped his wrist with a surge of guilt. Andrei reached for him as Dean stumbled back out of reach. “Touch me, I know you can.” Dean’s heart ached at the stark need in Andrei’s eyes. “That night in the van, when you kissed me, it wasn’t just my imagination. And just now, that wasn’t a barely there ghost touch, dammit. It felt real.”

Dean shook his head, fighting his own need to hold him, to comfort him. Ever since he’d first met him, when Andrei had been a terrified, heartsick teenager, clutching everything he owned in a single knapsack, Dean hated to see him hurting. Especially if there was something he could do to ease his pain.

“Please Dean, touch me.”

“Andrei.” Dean struggled to form the right words, to keep the automatic phrases of his death thoughts from emerging instead. “Andrei, I… I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m s-s…. Ru-r—” He pressed his lips together to keep the rest of the litany from escaping.

“Bullshit. Fucking bullshit,” Andrei snarled and turned away. His hand shook as he reached for a bottle that still had some alcohol left. “Why the fuck are you here, then? Why are you doing this to me?”

Andrei wouldn’t look at him as he lifted the bottle to his lips. A week ago his hair had been completely black, and now silver touched his temples and an occasional strand gleamed in his hair. Those hadn’t appeared until after they’d kissed, and Dean didn’t want to see them get worse just for a moment of passion. He didn’t want to almost kill Andrei as Ileana had, even if Andrei didn’t remember that it had happened to him as a kid.

It was tempting, he couldn’t deny that. Andrei had built up an immunity to Ileana. He could touch her without repercussions now. What would it take for the same to happen for them? What price would Andrei have to pay? It was selfish to even think such thoughts, but to touch him again… to hold him for whatever time they had left….

“I can’t, it’s not good for you,” Dean managed to say without stuttering. He refused to be the incubus to Andrei’s victim.

Andrei turned cold, black eyes on him. “You don’t get to pick and choose what’s good for me. What’s healthy for me. You think this is it? Having you half here? I need you to move on for my own sanity, and you fucking refuse that too.”

He took a step toward Dean, stabbing his finger in his direction, making the alcohol slosh in the bottle that he still clutched. “I see you out of the corner of my eye every time I turn around. I sense you even when I don’t see you, hear the murmur of your voice without words. How the fuck is that good for me?” His voice cracked on the last words, and he turned away to finish the remainder of the bottle.

“Knowing what is going to happen to you if you don’t move on?” Andrei whispered. “Watching you hurting and confused and knowing that there is no chance of it getting better for you because you left all your chances behind?”

Dean was very grateful that Andrei only knew the barest part of what could happen to him. If he knew the whole story, he would be freaking out even more.

“I-I will, I s-swear to you,” Dean said, the words coming easier for once. “W-when you find In-Inez and T-Tristan, good or bad I’ll g-g-go.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him his plans for Ileana too, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know if it would work or not, and he didn’t want to raise Andrei’s hopes only to have them destroyed at the worst possible time.

Andrei sat down on the couch and dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t do this, Dean. First Ileana, then the rest of my entire family, and now you. All the best parts of my life get stolen, and I’m left alone.”

Dean closed his eyes as those stark words tore at him. He wanted to hurt somebody as much as Andrei hurt. As much as Dean hurt. No, not somebody, a very specific person, but he forced himself to put Blake out of his mind before the anger built up out of control.

He knelt down in front of Andrei and started to reach out to him before letting his hands fall. He forced the words out through lips that wanted to stutter, concentrating fiercely on Andrei’s pain, his need to talk to his partner for the comfort they both would find. “My f-family is not your family, b-babe. They w-won’t abandon you. You’ll n-never be alone unless you s-s-shut them out. You c-can’t k-keep doing this to yourself. You g-gotta start living.”

“Please tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to live for,” Andrei snarled, lifting his head.

“F-for all those k-kids you’ve rescued who wouldn’t have stood a ch-chance if it wasn’t f-for you. For all the ones st-still out there. For Inez and Tristan.” Andrei held his gaze before jerking his eyes away. “For m-me.”

Dean reached over and scooped his band off the table. He held it in his palm and concentrated a moment, then smiled when it appeared on Andrei’s middle finger next to its mate. Andrei rubbed his thumb over it, and when he met Dean’s gaze again, some of the bleakness was gone from his eyes. “We’ll al-always be a p-part of each other.”

“That’s incredibly sappy, even for you,” Andrei said in a rough voice.

“Yeah, w-well. You can’t bl-blame a guy for t-trying.” There had to be an easier way to communicate than this. He was getting worn out, concentrating so hard. “You’re sc-scaring me. I d-don’t want you to do something st-stu-stupid on me, okay?”

Andrei’s eyes slid to the gun that Dean had tossed aside. “You mean eat my gun?” A chill settled deep in Dean’s bones, and then Andrei shook his head. “No, I’m not the suicidal type. If I was I would’ve killed myself when I was fifteen.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and then rose. “G-glad to hear it. Now g-go, take a sh-shower and get cleaned up. W-we need to t-talk.”

Andrei held his hand out to him, his eyes eloquent with need. “Join me?”

Temptation tugged at Dean. He’d never been able to refuse Andrei anything he needed, and he longed for it too, the chance to hold Andrei tight again, to steal whatever precious moments they had left together. He pressed his lips against the yes that threatened to come out and shook his head, taking a step back. “I-I c-can’t.”

Andrei’s shoulders slumped, and then his dark eyes flashed as he straightened again. “You can’t or you won’t?” With that he rose and headed downstairs to the shower in his office instead of the one off their bedroom.

Dean sighed and resisted the urge to follow him. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wrapping his arms around Andrei and kissing him until he smiled again. Instead he concentrated, picking up the broken glass and empty bottles in a telekinetic storm of activity. While he was at it, he threw away every last bit of liquor they had in the house, including the bottle of champagne Andrei had bought to celebrate. No need to have the lure within reach.

A sound caught his attention, and Dean looked over to see Andrei standing at the top of the stairs wearing nothing but a pair of soft, worn sweatpants that rode low on his hips and clung to his thighs. He’d taken the time to shave, and his hair was a damp, tangled mess, the silver threads shining even brighter now.

Dean’s cock stirred, and he was sure that was just the reaction that Andrei was going for. He loved the way that the thin, soft fabric hugged all the right places. And it was easy to see that he wore no briefs either. Dean groaned. Wicked man. Andrei was hard enough to resist without him actively trying to seduce Dean.

“How is it that you’re not stuck saying the same things anymore? Your stuttering isn’t as bad,” Andrei asked, rubbing the towel over his hair one more time before draping it over the railing. “And I can see you much more clearly than before.”

“I’ve been t-told that my inability to c-communicate with you was b-because I hadn’t accepted my d-d-death yet.” Andrei paled and Dean felt a stab of regret for saying it so bluntly. They both needed to face the truth, though. They were working on borrowed time. “And you c-couldn’t see me or c-communicate with me because you didn’t want to. You were b-bl-blocking me out.”

Andrei considered that, his head cocking before he moved over to the couch and sank down in a sprawl. “You’re probably right about me blocking you.” He rested his feet on the coffee table and stretched out long legs as he turned worried eyes on Dean. “You don’t blame me, do you? Knowing what you know now. I didn’t mean it, I just….”

Dean sat down next to him as Andrei trailed off. “No, I-I understand. I-I wish you’d t-told me about Ileana b-before, though.”

“I wish I’d done a lot of things before.” Silence fell as Andrei fiddled with their bands with his thumb, first one then the other. “But you wanted to hear about the investigation, right? That’s why you’re here? To talk business.”

Startled that Andrei didn’t try to make any moves on him, Dean nodded. “Well that’s n-not the only r-reason,” he added. “I n-need to be with you until this r-reaches the end. I only left b-because I h-had to get answers about w-what was happening with me. St-straightforward answers. Ileana t-talks in circles.”

“Well, I’ll fill you in then.” Andrei laced his fingers over his hard stomach and closed his eyes. Dean leaned closer, drawn in by the unguarded pose. Instinct had him wanting to slip his arm around Andrei’s shoulders to draw him closer. Though they were only inches apart, the fact that Dean refused to close the distance made the gap seem much wider.

“The cops picked up Hector Delgado the other morning on a convenient anonymous tip. He had your credit cards on him, though not your wallet. A search of the vehicle he was in found a woman’s purse with Robin’s cards and a handgun they’re pretty sure will match the ballistics report. Since Mr. Delgado is an illegal immigrant, the DA’s all over it, and Justin says his hands are tied. And, though I hate to admit it, the evidence is pretty damning. Either Delgado came across the crime scene and took off with the goods or Blake passed them off to him.”

“The h-how doesn’t m-m-matter.”

Andrei shot him an irritated glance. “It always matters, Dean. I’m not sure if Blake picked Delgado out beforehand and found a convenient scapegoat with him, but either way, I’m pretty certain Delgado has laid eyes on him. If I can get him to verify that Blake is alive, maybe I can convince at least Justin to keep searching.”

“So you’re n-not g-giving up on those k-kids? You didn’t m-m-ean what you s-said earlier?” Anxiety sank its claws into him. Andrei had good instincts. If he believed Inez and Tristan were dead, chances were he was right.

Andrei sighed and sat up straighter. “I’m sorry about that. I was drunk and hurting and so fucking pissed off at everyone, including you, so I lashed out. When we find Blake, we’ll find them too. According to Blake’s father, he resented having his kids taken from him, especially his son. And he clearly had issues against women. His mom left when he was young, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his dad didn’t use that as a pressure point on him.”

Andrei was still hurting and half-drunk; as long as Dean stuck around he’d never be able to take the first steps toward moving on. That thought filled him with a possessive jealousness. Andrei was his, always had been his, even before he realized how the other man felt about him, how Dean felt about his own sexuality. And the two basic instincts tore at him.

“W-what if I-I hadn’t been there? W-what if it was my p-presence that escalated the s-situation? R-Robin might still be alive. You w-wouldn’t be alone.” Dean dragged a hand through his hair. He’d been so caught up in getting to Andrei, in finding those kids, that he hadn’t given himself a chance to come to terms with his own actions, to face the consequences.

“You can’t blame yourself, iubito.” Andrei’s gentle voice cut through his dark thoughts. “The man I love wouldn’t have left a family stranded by the side of the road. And Blake proved he was willing to kill his wife. If not when he caught up with her, then later on, and her life would’ve been hell in the meantime. She left him, and in the mind of a man like him, that was unacceptable.”

“We’ve g-g-gotta find those k-k-kids, Andrei. The th-thought of them being with him… I c-c-cannot leave them like that. And you’ve g-got to stop bl-blaming yourself too. There w-was nothing you could’ve d-done to help me. It was so fuck-fucking qu-quick. It’s n-not your f-fault.”

“Easier said than done, but I’ll try.” Andrei turned toward him, lifting a hand as if to touch him.

“Wh-what’s your next m-move?” Dean asked as he shifted to the other side of the couch, putting even more distance between them before he did something that would haunt him. It was getting harder to not touch Andrei; the struggle to talk and keep his distance eroded his will.

Andrei pressed his lips together, a wounded expression crossing his face before he assumed a frozen mask. “Tomorrow, I’m going to be with your family.” At his funeral. A chill raced through Dean. “Then I’m going to Delgado’s hearing and posting his bail if he gets it.”

“You’re w-what?”

“I want to talk to him freely, not with guards hanging over my neck. That’s even assuming they’d let me visit him in jail.” Dean gave him a skeptical look. He could see a dozen holes in the plan. “I know it’s rough, but I’m working on a limited time schedule,” Andrei continued.

“Then you d-do think it’s just a matter of time before he does h-hurt his own k-kids.”

“I’m talking about you, Dean. I don’t know how much time you have before you’re stuck or if it’s already too late. Which means I’ll be spending the rest of the night looking through the data I pulled from Scott Metcalf’s computer.” A look of disgust tightened Andrei’s face as he straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “Something I should’ve already been doing instead of acting the fool.”

“Is th-there anything I-I c-can do to help? You can t-t-talk things out with m-me.”

Andrei shook his head. “I need to call your mom back first and apologize. Get myself something to eat and some coffee. I have to tackle this with a clearer head.”

“When was the last t-time you had s-something real to eat that did not come from a b-bottle?” Dean asked as he rose to go check the fridge. “Was it that omelet the other d-d-day? The one you w-wouldn’t have eaten if I-I hadn’t m-made you? D-dammit b-babe, and you go on about being w-worried about me.”

He didn’t want to think about what Andrei would be doing to himself when he left. He sure as hell had never dreamed that his partner would drown himself in drink when he wasn’t pushing himself past the limits of his endurance. The only times he’d slept were when Dean had made him or when he’d passed out.

Dean pounded his fist against the fridge, frustration rising up that he controlled with an effort. He couldn’t let it get ahead of him. Old Mother’s warning remained fresh in his head, and he didn’t want to take the chance that she was a paranoid old woman who passed her own fears onto Ileana. There certainly weren’t dead spirits everywhere, so there had to be some truth to her story about the Jackals. And the memory of those howls still made him tremble.

Before he’d been shot, he’d been a pretty even-tempered guy. Now it seemed like he was ready to lash out at everything. His fist clenched and he tapped it against the fridge, gentler this time. He had to get a grip.

“I’m trying, iubito,” Andrei said behind him, his voice hoarse. “I swear I am. I’ll make some soup or something, okay?”

It was so typical of him that a smile tugged at Dean’s lips. “Just not out of a c-can. I should have some leftover ch-chicken and dumplings in the freezer.”

Arms slid around him, and Dean closed his eyes as Andrei pressed close, his breath warm against Dean’s neck as he laid his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean sank into his nearness, felt the sense of Andrei and his warmth getting stronger, making him crave more. “Sometimes it’s so hard to remember why you should go. Especially now… being able to feel you like this… being able to talk to you. I miss you so damned much.”

Dean echoed that sentiment. It would be so easy to pretend that the last few days had just been a long nightmare they’d woken up from. He reached a hand back, sinking it into Andrei’s thick hair as a hand slipped under Dean’s shirt to splay against his stomach. They could go back to their room and forget about it all as they made love.

Electricity slid along his skin as Andrei groaned and kissed the side of his neck. Dean turned around and spun them both to press Andrei against the counter instead. “Don’t stop,” Andrei gasped, parting his thighs as Dean stepped between them. His cock rose, balls aching with the suddenness and strength of his arousal. Dean rocked against Andrei’s hip, rubbing against the hard length of his cock.

“Andrei….” Heat filled him as they kissed, and Andrei sagged against him with a needy moan. Dean sank his tongue into his partner’s mouth, hungry for more. Fuck, he tasted like heaven.

Dean slid his hands over the curve of Andrei’s ass as a brief war fought inside of him. There was a bed back there somewhere, a couch even closer, hell he didn’t think Andrei would mind if he turned him around and bent him over the counter, but it would be nice to get his mouth on him too.

Strong hands gripped his shirt, then came the sound of tearing fabric and scattering buttons before Andrei stripped the rest of his shirt from him. Dean tore his mouth away with a shuddering gasp. “An-Andrei.”

“No, stay with me, Dean… stay.” Andrei held him tighter, fingers digging into his back. Dean slid his hands down to Andrei’s thighs and lifted him up onto the counter as urgency gripped him. Andrei’s cock strained against the thin fabric of his sweats and Dean jerked them down enough for it to spring free.

Dean leaned down, arms circling Andrei’s waist as he sank his mouth down over Andrei’s cock until his nose brushed the crisp, black curls at the base. Andrei tasted like clean skin and his familiar, salty musk. Dean ran his tongue along the throbbing vein, lifting up enough to suck and tease the flared head.

Andrei’s head fell back to rest against the cabinets. “Oh God, Dean.” His hips rocked, sinking his cock deeper into Dean’s mouth, filling him with vital energy. His hunger grew as he bobbed his head. Andrei’s moans became deeper, punctuated with desperate whimpers. He fisted his hand in Dean’s short hair, the moans becoming gasps.

“Dean… Dean, please… don’t stop.”

A warning shouted in the back of Dean’s mind, but he couldn’t concentrate on it, not when Andrei was so close to coming. Andrei tightened his hand, stinging his scalp, and Dean welcomed the sensation. It made him feel alive.

The warning became alarm bells, and Dean jerked back, Andrei’s cock slipping from his lips to bob glistening and hard against his stomach. Andrei sagged back, slumping against the cabinet, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than before.

“Dean?” Andrei panted, reaching for him, his eyes dull with need and exhaustion.

Dean recoiled in horror. “A-an-Andrei… R-Run!” He wasn’t alive. He was dead, dead and harming Andrei. He had to get out of there before he did any more damage. He stumbled back another step as Andrei hopped down, having to catch himself before he slid to the floor in a boneless heap.

“Dean… what’s wrong?” Andrei straightened and yanked his sweats up before taking a step toward him. “Stay with me… talk to me.”

“C-c-can’t.” He was dead. He had to remember that. He was dead, and Andrei was lost to him. “I love you.”

“No, wait!” Andrei took a lurching step toward him, and Dean disappeared, fleeing before he lost control again.