Justice

by Sara Bell

  "I think that's my cue to leave.” Brian squeezed Dean's shoulder. “I'm going back to the house. Maggie, Will and Alex might need my help."

  "They're still there? Is it safe?” Dean couldn't imagine Marc would allow it if it wasn't, but still...

  "I've asked them to do a standard cleansing ritual, nothing fancy, and they'll be protected by the herbs and prayers they're using. I can't go in, not when I'm only at half strength after our encounter with your mom, but I wouldn't let them go in my place unless I knew there was no danger.” Marc looked at Brian. “Go ahead, and thanks for helping me get him home."

  Brian grinned, nodded, and then left.

  Dean waited until he was gone, then said, “What will this cleansing do?"

  "At its most basic, the cleansing will remove the dark presence from the house. Since we know you're a target, I'm also going to have them bless this place and Brian's.” Marc sighed, the smudgy circles under his eyes a testament to how tired he was. “It's me this thing wants. I realize now what justice means, what it is it's seeking.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's my fault you were attacked. My fault you almost died."

  "No, it's not.” Dean took both Marc's hands in his, pulling them away from his face. “You couldn't have known this would happen. Not after I pushed you away."

  "I never dealt for my feelings for you. When you asked me to come back to you, after you realized the mistake you made...” His voice shook, and he stopped a second to regroup. “I wanted to forgive you—I swear I did—but I was so damned hurt and angry. I guess I wanted to punish you. For eight years, I kept that desire for vengeance inside me. No wonder this thing was attracted to it."

  "You said you understand what justice it's seeking.” Dean used his thumbs on the palms of Marc's hands, soothing him as best he knew how. “What did you mean?"

  "When Oscar Tallmadge invited this thing into my life, it marked me as its own. When Dr. Minshaw and his friends blocked it, the demon was minus one victim.” Marc must've seen that Dean wasn't understanding him, because he clarified. “There's a balance in the universe. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Dark and light. By staving the demon off his kill, that balance shifted. One up for the good guys."

  Dean was starting to get it. “And now this thing won't rest until he claims what was taken away from him."

  "Or makes me suffer for getting away by harming someone I care about."

  Dean allowed himself to hope. “Someone like me?"

  "I care about you, Dean—I won't lie and claim I don't—but I'm not sure we can ever have the same thing we had before.” He pulled his hands away. “I'm older, and I've seen too damn much."

  "I'm older too, and I'd like to think I'm wiser than I was eight years ago.” He wet his lips. “I love you, Marc. I never stopped, and I'm willing to bet a big part of you still loves me. That thing wouldn't have been able to use me to get to you if you didn't.” Marc started to interrupt, but Dean put up his hand. “That doesn't mean I expect you to move in with me and start picking out china patterns."

  Marc chewed on his thumbnail. “Then what are you suggesting, exactly?"

  "That we get to know each other again. Date. Figure out just what it is we really feel for each other—how much of it is genuine and how much of it is a reflection of the past."

  "It sounds good,” Marc said, “but it isn't that simple. This demon hasn't just been lying around for the last twenty-something-years, waiting for payback. It may've come in with your mother's ghost, but I'm willing to bet someone summoned it with the express purpose of finishing what it started.” He lifted his hand to Dean's face, fingertips stroking his cheek with a butterfly's touch. “The more time you spend with me, the more danger you'll be in."

  "Luckily for you, I like living on the edge.” He kissed Marc's palm. “We've already seen that shutting me out of your life isn't going to keep me safe."

  "The cleansing spell will keep the demon at bay for a while, hopefully long enough for me to find a way to banish it again."

  "But it'll be back.” Dean wasn't asking.

  Marc gave a dejected nod. “Yeah. It'll be back."

  "Then lets use the time we have together to work on us—figure out if there is an us—and if we can ban together to stop him."

  "Long distance relationships never work,” Marc said, but he was starting to smile.

  "Lucky for you, there are plenty of houses in and around Atlanta that need rehabbing. I can always relocate, if it comes to that. In the meantime, Atlanta is less than forty miles away from here.” Dean winked. “I can handle the commute if you can."

  "Sounds like you've got it all worked out.” He was trying to sound stern, but Marc was about to give in, and they both knew it.

  "How long do you think it will take Maggie and the others to finish up at the old house?"

  "At least a couple of hours,” Marc said. “Why?"

  "The commute to Atlanta may be forty miles,” Dean said as he got off the couch and reached for Marc. “But the commute to my bedroom is only about fifty feet."

  Marc only laughed and followed him down the hall.

  * * * *

  December 21, 2007

  Marc was sitting in his office, going over a long list of invoices. Business was good, and yet he'd still managed to spend plenty of time with Dean. Nothing heavy; just dinner, a movie on DVD, and hot sex every couple of nights. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. Sometimes, that's all a man needed.

  "I'd ask what you're smiling about,” Alex said as he came through the open office door, “but Dean is downstairs waiting in the lobby, so I guess I know.” He sat down on the edge of Marc's desk. “There's no way I can compete with him, is there?"

  "You don't have to,” Marc said as gently as he could. “You and I will always be friends, Alex. I care about you, and I'm honored to have you on my team."

  Alex lowered his eyes. “But that's all it'll ever be."

  "Yeah.” Marc squeezed his shoulder. “That's all it'll ever be."

  Alex sighed. “I thought so, but I had to try. At least Dean turned out to be a pretty decent guy.” He perked up almost immediately, as only twenty-year-olds can. “Who knows? Maybe I'll be the one to save the next hot guy from the big bad ghoulies and then I'll be the one walking bowlegged."

  Marc clapped him on the back. Things had been quiet on the demon front, and though he knew it wasn't over, he allowed himself to relax. He and Dean had plans to spend the holidays together, and Marc refused to let anything bother him. Demon hunting could at least wait until after Christmas. He stood up and grabbed his coat from the hook by the door.

  "I'll see you on the twenty-sixth,” he told Alex. “Have yourself a merry Christmas."

  "You, too."

  Marc smiled and then made his way down to where Dean was waiting.

  * * *

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