by Sara Bell
"There's another thing I used to do to help you get back to sleep.” He lowered his voice. “Do you remember?"
"Yeah.” Marc shuddered, and it had nothing with fear. “What happened to being friends?” he asked in a husky whisper
"We could be friends with benefits.” Dean rubbed slow circles on Marc's lower back. “Remember how you'd wake up screaming, how I'd calm you down by taking your cock into my mouth and sucking you off till you shot down my throat?"
"Dean...” Marc's lips were trying to argue, but the erection pushing against his shorts told another story.
"Shh. No strings, I promise.” Dean gently pushed Marc back onto the bed, back against the pillows. Dean came up over him before Marc could lodge another protest. “We're just two guys trying to take the edge off. All I want to do is help you. I swear I won't ask for anymore than that."
"Will you kiss me?” Marc paused. “I know it's way intimate, but I—"
Dean cut Marc off by covering Marc's mouth and sliding his tongue inside.
Marc groaned, a sexy growl that nearly caused Dean to come undone. His lips teased and tormented while his right hand snaked downward into Marc's shorts. A second later that silky prick sprang free. Dean gave Marc's mouth once last taste, then slid the length of Marc's slender body and went down on him, deep-throating him in one smooth motion.
Marc arched his back, his hips pumping of their own accord. Dean stayed with him, alternating between long, leisurely licks and fierce suction. It wasn't long before Marc was pushing Dean off, using his own fist to finish himself. Thick volleys of come spilled over his hand and landed on his stomach.
"You didn't have to push me away,” Dean said after Marc had recovered somewhat. “I wouldn't have minded."
"No condom,” Marc said on a breathless pant. “I think I'm clean, but..."
He didn't have to say anything else. Dean hadn't been celibate in the last eight years either, and though it hurt to think of Marc in someone else's arms, he wasn't going to be a hypocrite.
"It's okay.” Dean kissed him, his cotton shrouded hard-on rubbing against Marc's messy belly. “I understand."
"So do I.” Marc grinned, looking down at Dean's cock, straining against his boxers. “I understand that bad boy needs taking care of before he pops."
"This was about you.” Another kiss. “I'll take care of him once I get back to my own room."
"I have a better idea.” Marc stroked Dean's face with his clean hand. “How about you prove what a good boy scout you are, come up with a condom and some lube, then get your ass back in here and fuck me?"
Not exactly an eloquent offer, but it made Dean so hot he damn near shot then and there. “You sure?"
Marc nodded. “Friends with benefits, right?"
"Right,” Dean said and then tried to break the land speed record retrieving lube and condoms from his bathroom. When he got back, Marc was naked, on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed, his hole just begging to be taken.
Who was Dean to deny either of them? He dropped his boxers and climbed up beside Marc.
The great thing about Marc, he neither required nor wanted a lot of prep. He relished the slight burn of a thick cock sliding in, and Dean was damned happy to give it to him. Dean pulled on the condom, slathered on the lube, then lined himself up and started a slow slide past the thick ring of muscle. He felt Marc push back against him, and then he popped inside.
"Oh, God yeah,” Marc purred as Dean's balls slapped against his ass. He flexed his interior muscles, laughing softly when Dean moaned. “You still like that, huh?"
"I'll show you what I like.” Dean set up an even rhythm, just hard enough to hit Marc's gland with each stroke but not quite enough to give him the friction Dean knew he craved. He wanted to hear Marc beg, to come apart and plead with Dean to finish him the way he used to.
He didn't have long to wait.
"Harder, damn it.” Marc rammed himself back on Dean's cock, pulled forward and then did it again. “Fuck me harder, Dean. Please."
And just like that, the floodgates opened. Dean yanked on Marc's cock as his hips pistoned, driving him deep into that tight ass and out again. Marc groaned—came all over his hand—but Dean barely registered it as he fucked toward his own release. When orgasm hit, he thrust all the way in, collapsed against Marc's back, and filled the condom.
It was a long time before either of them bothered to move.
* * * *
They slept together that night, though neither of them made a big deal out of it the next morning as they sat down to eat the French toast Dean had whipped up. Marc was trying not to think too hard about how nice it had been to wake up in Dean's arms again.
The phone rang just as they were finishing their meal. Dean urged Marc to keep eating and grabbed the kitchen extension.
"Ryder speaking.” A pause. “Oh hey, Maggie.” Another pause, this one longer. “He did, huh?” He made a face. “Yeah, I'll let Marc know. Thanks.” He cut the connection and turned back to the table. “Maggie and the rest of your team are with Brian at the old house, ready to get started. Alex said to tell you there's a deep disturbance this morning and you should stop screwing around with me and get your ass over there to deal with it."
Marc couldn't help it. He laughed out loud. “That sounds like something Alex would say.” He shook his head. “The kid hasn't been doing this as long as I have. He doesn't have the good sense to be as cautious as he should.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “We'd better head over there before Alex does something stupid and I have to clean up the mess."
Dean grabbed his keys off the counter. “You and him ... is there something going on between the two of you?” He made it sound casual, but Marc thought he heard just a hint of jealousy mixed in.
At least, he hoped he did.
"No. Alex, as much as said he'd like to start something up between us, but he and I are just friends.” He cut his eyes at Dean. “Without benefits."
Dean seemed to relax at that. As they drove over to the house in Dean's truck, Marc couldn't help but wonder if Dean had any “benefit” buddies on the side.
"So what about you?” He tried not to sound too obvious. “You seeing anyone special?"
"Not until last night.” Dean winked at him before looking back at the road. “I've dated, but nothing heavier than the occasional one night stand."
It was Marc's turn to relax, and the two of them lapsed into companionable silence.
By the time they got to the house, Maggie and Will had the equipment sitting on the porch, and Alex was pacing in a circle around it. Brian was sitting on the steps waiting with the others.
Marc greeted his sister with a hug. “Hey, doll. You got any readings for me?"
"No, but I think there's something you ought to hear.” She went over to the porch and grabbed up the mini recorder she'd used the day before. Hitting play, she said, “This is what we picked up while Dean and I were talking."
Marc listened to the replay of Maggie and Dean's conversation. Just as they got past the part where Dean was telling her about his mother's death, a raspy growl said, “You can't protect him forever."
"What the—"
Maggie shushed him. “Just listen. This is where it gets interesting."
Marc listened. A heartbeat went by, and then a feminine voice could be heard saying, “Stay away from him."
Dean came in behind Marc, his eyes wide. “I don't understand. I didn't hear anything. Not while Maggie and I were talking."
"I'm not surprised.” Will stood beside Maggie, his hand on her shoulder. “This falls under the category of Electronic Voice Phenomenon—EVP. Sometimes, if a recorder is sensitive enough, it can pick up communications from the other side."
"It's practically impossible for a recorder without an external mike to pick up two voices,” Maggie said.
Brian came to stand by his brother. “What does it mean?” He looked scared, and Marc didn't blame him.
"It means there a
re two entities in that house—two strong ones—and it sounds like they're at war, either with each other or us.” Marc looked at Maggie. “Were you able to get any EMF readings from around the house?"
Before she could answer, Dean said, “EMF?"
"Electro magnetic field,” Marc said. “Ghosts can sometimes disrupt the normal energy field and cause higher readings."
Brian looked at Dean. “You have any idea what he just said?"
Dean shook his head. “Not a freaking clue."
Maggie laughed. “Doesn't matter anyway. I'm getting nada out here."
Alex came to stand between Marc and Dean. “I'm getting plenty. I'm telling you, there's at least one spirit in that house. I can feel it in there, waiting for us."
Marc looked up at the blank windows. The house seemed dark inside even though it was well after eight a.m. on a sunny day. It was another unseasonable warm December morning, and Marc hadn't bothered with a jacket. A chill washed over him, and he wished now he'd thought to bring his coat even through he doubted it would help ease the cold creeping through his blood.
He looked at Alex. “You think you can handle this?"
The kid nodded. “I'm ready."
Marc took a deep, steadying breath, then said, “Maggie, I want you and Will to set up downstairs. Since Dean was attacked in the upstairs hallway, Alex and I will start there first, see if we can establish communication."
"What about me and Brian?” This from Dean.
"I think it would be best if the two of you wait outside."
Brian readily agreed, but Dean was already shaking his head. “I have a stake in this, Marc. You said yourself, there's a connection between the card you keep finding and my near death experience. I have a right to see for myself what that connection is."
"The difference is,” Alex said with a note of derision in his voice, “we're professionals and you're an amateur. Stand back and let us do our jobs."
Marc opened his mouth—whether it was to reprimand Alex for his high-handedness or to agree with his assessment, he couldn't say—but his words were cut off by the glowing appearance of a woman in the doorway.
Alex saw her at the same time Marc did. “Oh, my God. Marc ... Marc, do you see that?"
Mark nodded, not taking his eyes off the spirit.
"See what?” Brian looked back and forth between them. “What are you talking about?"
Marc looked around at the rest of them, including Dean. He could tell by the blank looks on their faces that he and Alex were the only ones who saw her.
"It's a spirit,” Marc said. “Most likely the one that you believe attacked you, Dean” Looking at her, the calm surrounding her translucent form, Marc had his doubts about that, but there was one thing he was sure of. “She wants to talk to me."
Dean squinted, as if he were straining to see what Marc saw. “Why doesn't she appear to all of us the way she did last time?"
"She might not be strong enough,” Alex said, and this time his voice was free of disdain. “Sometimes spirits just don't have enough energy to make themselves known to anyone but a medium."
"Maggie, where's the recorder we usually use for EVPs?” Maggie pointed to a place behind them on the porch, and Marc retrieved it. Switching it on, he said, “The rest of you fall back. It's me she wants."
Alex started to protest, but Marc stopped him. “You can stay a little closer than the others, but I still need you far enough away that your energy won't be blocking mine."
Alex didn't act like he liked it, but he went, as did the others. Dean started to go, too, but the spirit began waving frantically, shaking her faceless head back and forth.
"Dean ... wait.” Marc held out his hand. When Dean took it, Marc pulled him to his side. “I think she wants you to stay."
Dean blanched, but to his credit, he stayed by Marc's side. “You do remember what happened last time she wanted my attention, right?"
Marc squeezed his fingers. “We know now we have two spirits at work. This one might not have been the one to put that mark on your chest."
The entity began to nod, like she was agreeing with him. Marc led Dean up onto the porch where she was waiting for them.
"Can you hear me?"
Yes.
The word was faint, and Marc got the feeling she was speaking directly into his head. “Who are you?” he said aloud.
She seemed to come closer then, though Marc could've sworn she hadn't moved. A minute later, her features came into clear focus. No longer faceless, her identity was clear. It was written in her glowing blue eyes.
"You're Dean's mother."
Dean went stiff and dropped his hand. “Mom.” He edged away from Marc. “Is this some kind of joke? My mother would never have done this to me.” He beat a hand against his chest.
Never hurt, the spirit said into Marc's brain. A look of pure love wreathed her entire form. My baby. Beautiful boy.
Marc look at Dean. “She says she wasn't the one who hurt you, Dean."
Dean pressed his lips together in a hard line. “Then ask her who it was, and why he marked me like he did."
Marc didn't need to repeat the question. The ghost of Dean's mother understood. She was appearing to Marc clearer than before, as if she'd gathered strength.
"It was the other,” she said in a whisper that Marc had no doubt the tape was picking up. Her words were easier to understand, complete sentences. “I came to watch. He came to destroy."
Real fear was beginning to curl in Marc's gut. “Watch? Over Dean, you mean?"
"Yes. Always been here, always watch my son.” She lifted her spectral arms, as if she yearned to hold her son close. “You came, and I left for a while. Left him in your hands.” She dropped her arms. “Then you were gone, and I was back.” Her image shimmied. “The other came with me.” Sorrow radiated from her, then. “He wants you. I couldn't stop him."
"Me?” Marc's throat worked, but no sound came out. Finally, he managed to say, “Do I know this spirit?"
"Not a spirit.” She sounded angry. “An other."
It was then that Marc got an image, a picture of what Dean's mother saw in her head. A dark, twisted visage with a cruel smile on its grotesque face. Marc remembered that face. It had been haunting his nightmares for years.
He shook his head. ignoring the way Dean was looking at him, and the whispers coming from where the other members of his crew were standing. “Dr. Minshaw helped me.” He heard the denial in his own voice and winced. “We banished him."
"Blocked, not banished. There is no light without darkness.” She seemed to be caressing Dean with her eyes. “My light."
"Light?” Dean's eyes were glued to the spot on the porch were the spirit was hovering, even though Marc was certain he couldn't see her. “Did she say light? Does that mean she made it to a safe place on the other side?"
"You can hear her?” Marc waved his hand in front of Dean's face. “Dean, can you see and hear your mother?"
Before Dean could answer, the spirit's form grew more solid. Marc heard a gasp from behind him. Maggie, it sounded like. It was then he knew that everyone could see her now. He heard Brian calling Dean's name, but Dean paid no attention, just kept staring at the apparition in front of him.
"Mom?” Dean nearly went to his knees, and would have if Marc hadn't wrapped his arm around him to prop him up. “You're okay?"
"I'm fine, my darling boy.” This time her voice was as clear and strong as her image. “There is no condemnation among believers. God has forgiven me.” A trace of sorrow returned. “Can you forgive me for leaving you?"
"God yes.” His eyes were wet and leaking. “I forgave you a long time ago."
She smiled, making her look more like an angel than a ghost. “I love you, my beautiful baby boy.” Her head whipped around, as if she was seeing something behind her. She turned to Dean. “There isn't much time. You've forgiven me. I can move on.” She looked back again, speaking to someone neither of them could see. “Not yet. Just until I war
n them.” Her form flickered, beginning to fade. “The evil that is after you, he knows your feelings, the love you still carry for Dean, and him for you. He tried to kill Dean. I saved him then, but it's up to you now.” She was translucent again, almost gone.
"Mom, wait! Please...” There was agony in Dean's every word. “Don't leave me again."
"I'm never far, darling boy. Remember that.” She faded completely then, but before the last vestiges of her faded, Marc heard in his head, Save my son, and save yourself. Justice. A balance must be struck.
Marc turned to ask Dean if he'd heard the last part, and that's when he realized he was no longer supporting Dean's weight.
Dean was passed out cold on the porch floor.
* * * *
"Well if it isn't Rip Van Winkle.” Brian pushed Dean's hair off his forehead, his tone teasing but his eyes speaking his relief. “You okay? You were out for over an hour."
Dean groaned. As he tried to sit up, he realized he was lying on his own couch. Brian was standing behind the sofa, peering down at him.
"How did I get back here?"
"Brian and I carried you to the van and drove you back here. It was the safest place we could think of,” Marc said as he came in from the kitchen. He had a tall glass of orange juice in his hand. He set it on the table, helped Dean into a sitting position, then sat down beside him and reached again for the glass. Pressing it into Dean's hand, he said, “Drink this. You need the sugar boost.” He waited until Dean drank a few sips. “You remember everything?"
Dean wished he didn't, but he wasn't going to lie. “My mother ... she's really gone, huh?"
"Yeah, but only because she knows you'll be all right without her. My guess is, she only came back to protect you from the demon, or whatever he is."
Dean gave a weak nod. “That's what she was doing that day, waving her arms and trying to scare him off. Only ... how come I could see her and not him?"
"He didn't want you to.” Marc's eyes were dark and shuttered. “He came after you to get to me. The bastard planned this."
Dean allowed himself to go quiet for a minute. He remembered what his mother's spirit had said, just before she faded. “This thing, whatever he is, knows how we feel about each other. How we used to feel, anyway.” He looked Marc in the eye. “How I still feel."