Unspoken A Miracles/Supernatural Cross-over by Laurel (Sailorhathor) Chapters: 3 of 4 Rating: Adult17+ for graphic sex between two men and bad language Dates: Written June-July 2008 Word Count: 4,535 (this chapter), 19,273 total Summary: Dean and Sam return to Boston, and Dean tells Paul that he is a God is Nowhere person. Buckets of hurt/comfort. Pairings: Dean Winchester/Paul Callan. Also, discussion of Teen!Dean/Billy Loomis from Scream. Timeline: Happens after the Supernatural episode "The Benders" and before "Shadow," which moves the Miracles timeline up to 2006. Yes, I am still stuck in the first season of SPN. Post-series for Miracles. Warning: Contains spoilers for all of Miracles and Supernatural up to "The Benders." Spoilers for the movie Scream. Betas: Thanks to Harshini the Impatient Vegemite for poking me until I wrote this story. She also served as its beta. Author's Notes: Refers to an SPN/Scream cross-over I will be writing in the future.         Sitting down next to Sam, Evie leaned slightly over his shoulder to read the paper in his hand. "You've reached Danielle Franklin's part of the file?"         Sam jerked a little in his chair like she'd startled him; he'd been so engrossed in the transcripts of Danielle's dreams, he didn't realize she was there. "Oh, yeah. Seems like."         "Sorry I scared you," she chuckled.         "It's okay. Hey, tell me something... do all of their dreams come true? The dreams the God is Nowhere people have of Paul?"         "They have so far."         After a long pause, Sam grunted, "Huh," and kept reading. He started to fidget in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk and his foot on the floor. Eventually, he put the paper down and said, "When he was a kid, Dean dreamed that Paul met his father."         Alva looked up from what he was reading. "Oh? You did say that your brother had had some dreams about Paul..."         "Yeah." Sam wet his lips; his mouth was suddenly dry with nervousness. "Our dad's letter said Dean was really worried about Paul meeting his father, because he could be a dangerous man."         "Paul's father is the dangerous one?" Evie asked, needing clarification.         "Yeah. In Dean's dream, Paul meets his father, only he doesn't know the man is his father."         Alva seemed a little alarmed. "Goodness." He and Evie looked at each other. "For all we know, this could have already happened."         Evie finished, "Or... maybe not."         They were all silent as this revelation sunk in. "I wish we had some clue what was going to happen," Evie added.         Sam's eyes nervously darted back and forth.         A minute later, he came to the passage detailing Danielle's dream about Paul's meeting with his father at the sidewalk café. Fountain. Anger. The water turns red. Looking troubled, Sam rubbed his hand over his mouth and put down the paper.         Although he didn't realize it, Evie had been watching Sam, noticing how his eyes widened and his expression became more and more disturbed. "Sam, what is it?"         He jumped in his seat again. "I think you're trying to give me a heart attack," he said, a little irritated.         She didn't acknowledge the comment. "Sam?"         Sighing, he mumbled, "Dean's going to kill me." Then he picked up the sheet of paper and pointed to the description of Danielle's sidewalk café dream. "Dean had this dream last night."         "What? Which dream?" Alva set aside his own reading again to see what Sam was talking about.         "Danielle's dream about the sidewalk café, when Paul meets his father."         Evie and Alva tried to tie each other for most times they had looked shocked that day. "Oh... Alva... this worries me..." she said.         "Whatever happens, we're all going to be there, so we'll get Paul through it," Sam added, trying to reassure them.         "We'll all be there?" Alva said disbelievingly.         "Uh... yeah." Sam smiled, sheepish; he felt he'd said too much already. Dean was going to kill him. "Maybe my brother should fill in the details. It wasn't my dream."         Another awkward silence. Alva and Evie looking at each other. Then Alva ignored what Sam had said to ask, "Why were we all there?"         Because we were heading off to stop the Apocalypse, silly. "I'm not sure. You'll have to ask Dean." Oh, that's brilliant! Now he's really, REALLY going to kill you.         "Everyone was there? Even me?" Evie pressed.         Even Paul's dead mother! "I think so," Sam assumed. Truth was, he couldn't remember if Dean had said Evie was there; if she was, she hadn't said anything. Dean had only repeated what Alva had said (You unimaginable bastard) and that Sam himself had been standing behind Dean, "humming with power." Like this wasn't strange enough, there had to be that description to haunt him every time he thought about it. Sam was sorry he'd brought it up. "Ask Dean when he comes in."         Not only did he now have to wonder how he'd gotten to the point that he was humming like a generator, but what he was going to be able to do with all that power. At least Sam didn't have to wonder what was going to happen once his brother got there - that one was easy.         Dean was going to kill him. *****         Paul rubbed Dean's shoulder. The shameful, haunted feelings coming off of Dean broke his heart. "When?" he asked gently.         Dean, his eyes far off, drifting in the past, didn't speak for a long moment. Then he replied, "I was seventeen."         Paul continued, "Why did you do it?"         Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he said, "I had... all these friends back then. It was the only time in my life when I can remember having so many friends at school that they could be called a gang. My gang. Not, you know, street violence kind of gang, but kids you hang out with and stuff."         "I understand."         Dean grinned a little and glanced at Paul before focusing his eyes back on nothing, seeing school buses and hidden packs of cigarettes and Friday night parties after the football games he didn't really give a shit about. He just went because his friends did. "My dad was working a long, long case involving a Chaos cult we'd followed across the country. He took me on hunts sometimes, but I wasn't that heavily involved yet. Not like I am now. I had a lot of time to hang out, when I wasn't looking after Sammy.         "There was this kid Billy... he was my closest friend back then. And we, uh... we became... romantically involved. He was my, my first... with a guy."         Considering that, Paul simply replied, "Ohhh." He started to try to fill in the blanks himself in his head. Things went bad? They broke up? Imagine Dean being a teenage boy, just finding out he's bi, and his first boy/boy relationship goes sour. No wonder... "Did you love him?"         Dean took another one of those long, contemplative pauses before he answered a quiet, "Yeah." What he added next, Paul hadn't expected. "I just couldn't save him. I tried, but I couldn't save him."         "Did he die?" Paul questioned.         "Yes. But by that time, he deserved it."         If Paul thought he was shocked before... "Dean, what are you talking about?"         He shook his head. "Paul, he murdered a bunch of people. Billy stabbed them to death. For thrills. I knew he had an obsession with horror and violence, but I never thought he would take it that far... until he did. Some of those people he killed were my friends.         "I'd met a lot of demon hunters by then, and many of them were odd, obsessed with knives and guns and ways to kill things, so it didn't seem so weird when Billy was like that. Kids act weird and talk about death just to get attention... people say they're going to kill someone they're mad at and they rarely mean it. I didn't think he'd really do it.         "I should have told someone about Billy when Mrs. Prescott was murdered. I knew there was a chance he did it, really went and did it, but is that enough to make a big deal of? A hunch? They had a prime suspect and everything. Who was I supposed to tell anyway? My dad hated cops, he didn't trust them at all. And my dad... I was afraid to tell him, afraid he would know..." Dean started to shake his head. "If I talked to him about Billy, would he know about us, would he be able to tell? And what would he do?"         Sympathetically rubbing Dean's shoulders and upper back, Paul shook his head too. "Sounds like you were caught between a rock and a hard place. It wasn't your fault that he hurt anybody."         Dean looked at him. "But I might've been able to stop it, Paul. If I'd been there, if I hadn't run, I could've stopped it. It should have been me who put Billy down like a rabid dog. Not that poor girl. The deaths have followed her around for years since she shot Billy in the head, but it shouldn't have been her. It should've been me. That's what I do, Paul. I take down the monsters. I ran and I failed."         Paul's face was troubled as he pulled Dean close to him, hugging him to his body. After a few seconds, Dean hugged him back. "I'm sorry that you feel responsible. It wasn't your fault, Dean."         Dean gratefully drank in Paul's comfort in silence, something inside telling him he didn't deserve it. For Paul's sake, he tried not to listen. "That's why I tried to kill myself. I was responsible."         Letting out a groan, Paul moved back and took Dean's face in his hands. "Oh, God... I'm glad you didn't succeed. You don't deserve to die for what Billy did, Dean. You don't." He kissed Dean's mouth and cheeks.         "My dad has tried to tell me that a hundred times. Dad and Sammy. None of you will ever understand." Dean's eyes glimmered, but he wouldn't let himself cry.         Paul, holding the tears back as well, pulled Dean against him again.         They held each other, not speaking, for almost a full minute, just rocking softly and stroking each other's hair, until Dean broke the silence. "What about you?"         Paul's eyes had been closed; now they opened in surprise. "Me?"         "Your suicide attempt."         The two men separated to lean back and look at each other. Paul, having almost forgotten that he had his own story to confess, seemed caught off guard. His mouth hung open slightly as he gathered his thoughts. "Oh, yeah... my turn. Uh, how to make this the short story..."         "I'll take the long version if necessary," Dean assured.         "It's okay. You only need to hear the basics. I once took Evie's son Matty to the park to play, and - "         "Matthew?"         Paul shook his head. "Mateo."         "Cool name. I didn't know Copzilla was married."         "She's not, they're divorced."         "Oh." Dean tapped Paul's knee with the backs of his fingers. "Anyway, you took Matty to the park..."         "Yeah. And when I took my eyes off him for a couple of seconds, he disappeared."         "Shit," exclaimed Dean.         Nodding, Paul continued, "A woman grieving over the death of her own child had kidnapped him. But we didn't know that at the time. I'd been seeing Tommy's ghost off and on for two weeks straight, including at the same time that Matty was taken; it made me think that Tommy might know something. So I decided that I needed to talk to him.         "Keel and I got this doctor friend of his to help us. We lowered my body temperature with an ice bath and he injected me with a lethal combination of drugs that would stop my heart - "         Eyes wide, Dean interrupted him with, "Wait, wait, hold up. You killed yourself so you could talk to Tommy?"         "Yeah."         "Hello? Ever heard of a Ouija board?" His tone was sarcastic and disbelieving, not just because what Paul had done was extreme, but also because it horrified him that Paul had come close to death when there were other ways to speak to the dead. Dean might've never met him if things had turned out differently.         "We tried that. Tommy said he couldn't tell me what I needed to know unless I met him on the other side," explained Paul, and added ominously, "He wasn't alone in there."         "What about the psychomantium?"         "Wasn't built yet."         "Aren't you a medium?"         "The kid doesn't come when called."         "A necromancer?"         "They exist?"         Dean sighed. "Okay, whatever, you needed to die to talk to Tommy's ghost. What was your great plan for how you were going to be resurrected?"         "After four minutes, the doctor was supposed to restart my heart. The low body temperature and the length of time would keep me from coming out of it brain damaged."         "You were already brain damaged, even trying an insane plan like that."         Looking a little perturbed, Paul challenged, "If it had been your brother who was in danger, you'd be all for me trying it."         "If my brother had been in danger, I would have found another way to save him than risking your life."         "You make it sound so easy," Paul said, rolling his eyes.         Dean was obviously exasperated. "Either way, you did it, and no matter how crazy it was, it worked somehow, or you wouldn't be here."         "Exactly. Tommy gave me the clues we needed to figure out where Matty was, and he was recovered safe and sound."         "Okay. If you planned to come out of this alive, then how was it a suicide attempt?"         Lowering his head in shame, Paul said, "I didn't want to come out of it alive." He glanced at Dean for a moment, then looked away again. "Of course I wanted to bring good news back to Evie that would help her find her son, but deep down, a part of me just couldn't take it anymore. Everything in my life had fallen apart. This innocent child had given his life to save mine, and I felt guilty about it. Everyone kept telling me I was special, that I lived for a reason, but I couldn't find any reason." Remembering how he'd felt back then brought some of those feelings back for him; Paul leaned his elbows on his knees and put his forehead in his hands, hiding his face. "A part of me wished they wouldn't be able to revive me. I just wanted the pain to end."         Dean rubbed the back of Paul's neck. "I know how that feels. It's understandable, babe, after all you'd been through."         Paul's head snapped up. "It's not understandable, it was cowardly and selfish! If I had stayed dead, Evie might've never found Matty, and Keel and the doctor probably would have gone to prison for helping me kill myself. Not to mention the fact that my religion kind of frowns on suicide," he pointed out, his tone sarcastic as he mocked his own actions. "When I think back, sometimes I even wonder how I could have done something so ludicrous."         A hand on Paul's knee, Dean began to massage the back of his neck with the other as he tried to comfort him. "I understand why you're conflicted about what you did. But most people don't think about the real cost of their suicide while they're plotting it and carrying it out. We just think about making the pain end." He gave Paul's head a playful little shake. "You gotta stop beating yourself up over it.         "Keel doesn't seem to be mad at you for putting him in that position. Tommy willingly came back to help you. They've forgiven you for what happened. Maybe you should work on forgiving yourself."         Smirking, Paul put his forehead against Dean's and said, "Look who's talking."         For a second, an irritated expression crossed Dean's face, but it quickly gave way to a chuckle and a shake of his head. "Dude, shut up."         They sat with their heads together for a short time while Dean rubbed Paul's knee, his hand slowly moving higher and higher up his thigh. Lips close, tiny kisses shared, and soon they weren't thinking about their pain anymore.         The kisses turned passionate, long and lingering, breath becoming quick between each press of the lips. At some point, they had wrapped their arms around each other and Paul found Dean's hand on his fly. The fingers pressed down hard on his crotch and he moaned. Dean rubbed down the growing lump of Paul's erection. Then he undid the other man's pants, one-handed, and started pulling them down.         "See?" Dean said between kisses. "Told you. Another thing to undo."         Paul helped him push his pants down until he was sitting there in his underwear with his pants around his knees. "Guess that's all you wanted to talk about?"         Dean chuckled into another kiss.         Once Paul's pants had fallen to his ankles, Dean suddenly stopped and got up off the bed. "I'll be right back," he said.         Paul made a displeased face. "What, you didn't like the pants either?"         "Nah, I'm really trying to get you in the sack this time. It's just that the instructions say it's easier to put it on if you're semi-erect." He picked up his duffel bag.         "Put what on?"         Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "You'll see."         He ducked into the closet, closing the folding doors behind him. A few seconds later, Dean opened one door a little and tossed out his jeans; Paul caught them. A few more seconds and the underwear followed.         "Hm. What are you doing in there?" Paul asked.         "Feel me and see," replied Dean.         Paul dipped into his emotional center, not surprised to find him turned on. It seemed he was getting more aroused by the second; was he touching himself? "Would you come out already?"         "Coming." Dean tossed out the duffel bag just to get it out of the way, then pushed both doors open and leaned invitingly against the doorjamb. He struck a pose worthy of a Playgirl model, one arm behind his head and back arched, lips puckered, totally overdoing it. Paul's eyes didn't spend much time examining Dean's face, though. They were on his cock.         Dean was wearing some sort of strappy thing that made his erection stand up as if it was beckoning to Paul to come and get it. One leather strap had been fastened around the base of his cock and behind his balls, snug against his body; another was wrapped cozy around the top of his scrotum; and the third tautly circled the base of his cock in front of his balls. The front and back straps snapped together on the top of Dean's cock, which is what made it stand up so enticingly. The straps weren't so tight that they would cause him pain, but pleasure.         Mouth gaping and eyes wide, Paul blurted, "What's that?!"         Dean smiled mischievously. "A cock ring. A triple cock ring."         "Oh wow... I've never seen one like that." Paul couldn't stop staring at it. "It makes your... makes it look... damn, that's sexy."         Snickering, Dean brought out his other hand. In it, he held a leather cuff studded all around with flat silver studs and on one side, a blue jewel shaped like a heart. The cuff had a chain attached to it with a leather loop at the end. Dean held the looped strap and started to spin the chain around his finger, flinging the cuff around in a circle. "I got one for you, too."         Paul stared at the circling cuff. "You're going to put that on me?"         "Yeah. It'll look gorgeous on you."         "Well, uh, I... wow. Where did those come from? You're not telling me you snuck out last night and bought them?"         Laughing a little, Dean sauntered over closer to the bed. "No. I must confess, I already had them. But no one's worn this one but me." He dangled the studded cuff in front of Paul. "You know what they do, don't you?"         Paul nodded vigorously. "They restrict the flow of blood a bit, which makes your orgasm more intense."         "Mm-hmmm." After tossing the cuff on the bed, Dean put his hands on either side of Paul's head, lightly stroking his hair with the tips of his fingers, and arched his hips so his cock stood erect right in Paul's face. "Do you like it?" he asked in a deep, soft voice.         Paul, a helplessly excited look in his eye, nodded again. "It looks so good on you. Your... it's all presented, like a gift." He laughed nervously. "It's saluting me."         "What's saluting you?"         After a pause, Paul bashfully said, "Your cock."         "Mm, I love getting those dirty words out of you. You don't say that stuff all the time, do you?"         "No. Only for you," Paul said with a coy smile.         "That's right. Only me." Leaning forward, Dean brushed the head of his cock against Paul's lips. "You wanna take a walk around in my pleasure center and feel what this is doing to me?"         "I already know just from looking at you." He watched Dean tremble as his breath passed over his cock. "But I won't refuse the invitation."         They both moaned as Paul touched the center of the origin of Dean's passion with his empathy, Dean from feeling Paul caressing him from within, Paul from experiencing how good that cock ring felt through Dean. He immediately licked the head of Dean's cock. They both shuddered from the delicious shockwaves that created. Paul slid his mouth down onto it, sucking enthusiastically. Dean moaned, eyes half-closed. Unable to help it, he thrust his cock deeper into Paul's mouth; Paul made a surprised noise and almost choked, but pulled his head back an inch to readjust his position.         "Sorry," Dean said, his voice shaking with arousal.         To show the apology was accepted, Paul sucked his cock, bobbing his head up and down slowly two or three times, then showing the cock ring its proper tribute by licking the area all around it.         "Paul," Dean breathed out heavily.         He gave Dean's balls a few minutes of attention, licking them down and sucking each one individually. When Paul ran his tongue close to the cock ring, Dean shuddered hard.         "So good," he moaned shakily.         Paul, kissing the skin at the base of Dean's cock, begged, "Make love to me."         Grinning, Dean looked down at him through half-lidded eyes. Paul said it just like he had in the orange dream. "You want me inside you? Hm?"         Paul looked up at him, holding Dean's cock in his hand and rubbing it against his stubbly cheek. "Very much."         Dean stroked Paul's hair with his fingertips again. "You want it slow?"         "Yeah. Real slow."         "Make me some room."         Grinning eagerly, he moved back on the bed so Dean could climb on. Dean suddenly grabbed Paul's ankles and yanked him toward him so fast that Paul fell on his back, his head almost hanging off the end of the bed. Paul yelped in surprise. Chuckling, Dean jerked Paul's underwear off and tossed them aside.         "Did you enjoy that?" Paul asked, lifting his head.         "Fuck yeah."         As Paul leaned up on his elbows, Dean picked up the cuff and, turning back to Paul, smiled at him with mischief in his eyes. "You ever wear one of these before?"         It was obvious he hadn't expected that question. Paul's eyes shifted to the right and then to the left, looking anywhere but at Dean's face. "Um, no."         "Oh ho!" Dean smacked the side of his hip, getting as close to his ass as he could. "You're lying. Don't be embarrassed."         "If you want to hear about it, I'll tell you, but later, okay? We're both kinda worked up here. It's not story time." While he spoke, Paul laid back down and stroked his hands up and down Dean's muscled chest.         "Okay, but don't assume I'll forget, 'cause I won't. Come 'ere, you cock ring maven." Dean liked how Paul rolled his eyes at the nickname, but enjoyed it even more how he moaned and closed his eyes when Dean took hold of his half-hard cock and wrapped the cuff around him, behind his balls, all snugly up against his body. He pushed the snap together with a satisfying snick sound and then admired how it looked. "Hmm." Dean held up the leather strap, jingling the chain. "It's so fancy. Goes with the rest of your wardrobe."         Paul rolled his eyes again. "It feels kinda good," he breathed.         "Supposed to, Metrosexual. Just wait. You're just going to get more and more sensitive... and hard... but you know that, right?"         An embarrassed expression crossed Paul's face; Dean snickered and pulled the chain just a little. "Look at the collar my pet is wearing." Tugging the chain once more, he said, "Whose pet cock is this?"         Paul, having observed several claiming rituals during their lovemaking already, understood that it turned Dean on to hear that the person he was sleeping with belonged to him. Although the words he had used were playful, Paul knew that Dean meant it; he wanted to hear that even if Paul did sleep with another person again, he would still be Dean's conquest, that Dean would always be in the back of his mind. Paul wasn't sure at this point that it wasn't all true. He said without any hint of joking in his voice, "It's your cock, Dean."         For a second, the surprise was evident on his face, but Dean quickly recovered, looking confident and arrogant. "Damn straight."         Paul grinned to himself. "You should put that strap around your wrist since it belongs to you."         This time, Dean looked positively shocked. His expression soon turned to arousal as he followed Paul's advice and put the leather loop on the end of the chain over his hand and down to his wrist like this was a leash. He leaned down, putting his other hand behind Paul's head, and gave him a long, slow kiss. Paul brought his head up to meet him. Heat exploded through his crotch at that kiss, and the feeling was incredible. He choked back a whimper at how good it felt when his cock got a bit harder.         Dean looked for a long time at Paul's cock with that studded ring on it before giving him another, shorter kiss. "It looks beautiful on you," he said in all seriousness.         Paul also looked, then shifted his eyes further down to see that Dean couldn't get any harder. He stared longingly at it. "Yours, it... it's so damn sexy on you. I want you inside me with it on right now." On to Part 4 1 || 2 Unspoken is (c) 2008 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television Supernatural is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television. Comment on this chapter on LiveJournal Comment on this chapter by e-mail Back to The Stories or Back to Brokeback Mothman