Archive of Our Own

A Good Man After All

Prologue

Fog rose up from the river. Thick, obscure wafts floating through the narrow lanes, veiling the shabby, squalid huts that were huddled as closely together as their poor inhabitants around their fireplaces to keep themselves warm. The fog was so intense that it swallowed not only the dim lights from the few gas lanterns, yellowish glimmer barely to be seen, but all the sounds in the neighborhood too: the quiet talk from the families inside, sometimes two or three living together in just one small room, all tired after their long shifts on the docks or in the countless factories; the soft scratch of the rats scurrying over the cobblestone and the footsteps of the few men that were outside, groping their way through the damp chill of the black London night.

No one heard the hooves of the two horses pulling the hansom, the wheels jolting over the stones and the man getting out when he had reached his destination, paying the coachman wordlessly. Pulling the hat he was wearing even deeper over his eyes, shadowing his appearance completely, he was even grateful for the miserable weather, helping him to reach his final destination in secret. Swiftly, he looked left and right, making sure that he hadn't been followed before he cleaved his way through the thick wafts that seemed like walls towering around him, hindering him from finding his way. Almost blinded, he felt his way forward, nearly stumbling over something he recognized as a dead cat when he looked more closely, feeling a wave of disgust wash over him, making him pull his warm, expensive coat even tighter around his shoulders.

He couldn't tell how long he groped through the darkness, almost worried that he had lost his way in the labyrinth of lanes and dead ends, but in the end he reached his destination. “The Scarborough Head'' was barely bigger than the shabby houses surrounding it, but much louder and a little brighter. Laughter could be heard from inside and the reek of human excrement whiffing into the man's nose was even stronger. Disgustedly, he wrinkled his nose, feeling more stained than ever before, but that night he was on a mission and without thinking any longer, he entered the inn.

The second he stepped into the crowded room the dark clad man was overwhelmed by the stark odor of two dozen unwashed male bodies, meat being grilled over an open fire, beer and smoke. Slowly, he let his glance glide over the rough men, faces as dirty as their shabby clothes, sitting together in groups, playing cards and drinking beer, looking for the man he had come for. The longer the stranger was standing there, the more attention he attracted and quite soon the voices faded away, over twenty pairs of eyes stabbing through him, making the man feel uncomfortable and exposed.

Finally, he discovered the man he was looking for, sitting in one of the shadowy corners of the inn, almost melting into the darkness, only to be seen thanks to the stump of a cheap candle flickering on the raw wooden table and the glimmer of the cigarette the man was smoking. He had never had dealings with the man before but he had a description, matching only the guy in the corner: unusually tall, gangly, young and hardly to be found in the company of others.

He didn't approach the young man at once but sat down on the only empty bench in the room, wood covered not only with grease and dirt but also with dark reddish spots that looked suspiciously like dried blood and he shuddered, not daring to think what had happened here. He ordered a beer, the smell of the brew alone churning his stomach, the tankard looking like it hadn't been washed for several days. Inconspicuously, he listened to the conversations slowly restarting, watching the lone man, waiting until no one watched him any longer until he moved to the semi-dark corner and quietly slipped onto the bench opposite the young man.

Thin face with high cheekbones covered with a light stubble and dirt, he looked much younger than he probably was, his eyes telling a story of pain and sorrow not unusual for the lower class but unimaginable to the man facing him. He didn't even move his eyes as the wealthy man's glance checked him out. The younger man simly ignored him, until he finally began to speak.

“Jay the Joker?” The older man asked, voice as quiet as possible but still audible enough for the young guy he was speaking to.

Jay gave him a curt, affirmative nod, took another drag on his cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply.

“I have work for you,” the stranger whispered and he swiftly pulled a small bag out of his cloak and slid it over the filthy table. That was the first time he got any real reaction from the young man everyone only knew by the name of Jay the Joker. Jay opened the bag slowly, taking in a hardly audible breath as he looked at the shiny coins inside.

“Fifty pounds in gold,” the older man murmured, “and thrice more when you successfully fulfill your task. I've been told you are the best.”

“I am.” It was the first time Jay spoke. His voice was raw and deep.

“Good. You can't fail me.”

“I won't.” Jay took the money and listened carefully to everything the other man told him about his new victim, about the man he had to kill.

One

Mostly he was called Jay the Joker, because whenever someone else failed, it was Jay who managed to fix it. Sometimes he was also referred as Jay the Strangler, because his favorite way to kill was strangling his victims. Others called him Jay the Butcher, because in the rare event that his chosen method of killing didn't succeed, it sent him into a rage, slashing not only throats but stomachs, mutilating his victim beyond recognition. Whenever Jay had one of these fits, he couldn't remember much afterwards, sometimes didn't even know how he had left the crime scene - finding himself wandering through the dark, foggy London nights, face and clothes stained with his victim's blood. The young man couldn't tell why it happened at all, why he felt such an overwhelming anger wash over him when his prey dared to resist, to fight, that he forgot the little bit of humanity left inside and became a monster. Whenever Jay struck, whenever a man or a woman was found mutilated like that, whenever the newspapers printed another article about the unknown murderer, wondering if things as horrible as that could even be done by a human being - calling Jay a monster, a demon or a wild animal - he felt strange sensations welling inside him, emotions he couldn't put a name to. Until now, he hadn't taken the time to discover those feelings. Ignoring them, all feelings apart from greed, hate and anger were something he didn't want and need. He didn't need love or admiration, didn't need friends or companions. All he needed was food in his belly and money in his pocket, money for a time when he didn't want to be a hatchet man any longer.

Jay didn't refer to himself either as Strangler or as Butcher. He was just Jay, short for Jared, a name his mom and dad had given to him, the name they had called him while they still had been living, though he hadn't heard it for a very long time. He was born in a hamlet near Warsaw but his family's life had been so miserable there that they had left their home country, going on a long, weary journey to England where the prospect of working in the many flourishing factories had been promising. Their dreams had shattered as soon as they arrived, their insufficient English being a huge obstacle in finding acceptable work so that Jared's dad had to hire out as a day laborer while his mom struggled to keep her two children alive, money barely enough for the rent, let alone for food. When Jared was five years old, his parents didn't have any other choice than to send their eldest son stealing and one day, Jared's brother didn't return. He never found out whether Jeff had run away, had been caught or had been killed but whatever happened, it broke his mom's heart.

That income missing, Jared was sent out to fill his brother's shoes and because he was small, skinny and fast, he always managed to pinch something, be it an apple, a ham or a little bag filled with shillings and pennies. He never felt sorry for the people he robbed, only felt a wave of triumph and glee wash over him when he returned with his gains, his mom's almost toothless smile all the praise he could wish for. Soon, Jared perfected his skills, becoming even swifter, defter and more cunning, bringing home food and money on a more regular basis than his dad.

If you'd asked Jared then, he'd have told you that he wouldn't have minded living like that for the rest of his life, seeing his baby sister growing up, taking responsibility for his mom and dad, not minding at all that it actually should have been the other way round. He never cared that there were children of wealthy people living in their posh houses in Chelsea or Kensington, living a life Jared couldn't imagine, while these children couldn't imagine that children like them were living a life like Jared, because Jared loved what he was doing. Whenever he cut a bag of money, whenever he reached out his hands to steal groceries, there was a kick, a mixture of queasiness and excitement in his guts. It was a challenge and he loved it.

But things in life don't always go the way you plan and Jared had to learn that the hard way. His dad, feeling useless when he sometimes couldn't find work for weeks, suddenly started drinking more than before until the time came when he wasn't sober any longer. He would wake up in the morning hours after a long night out in several inns at the docks, just as drunk as in the night. He whored, beat his wife and sometimes, on very bad days, his kids too, raging like a lunatic.

One night, Jared was barely twelve years old, he returned from his nightly tour to find his mom lying curled up on the floor, protecting her head with her skinny arms, whimpering in pain and fear while his dad towered above her, beating her again and again with the leg of a stool he had destroyed in his rage. His sister Megan had retreated into the furthest corner of the small room, hiding her dirty face in her tiny hands, whimpering with her mom whenever the club hit the poor woman. That was when Jared ran berserk for the first time. Not thinking about what he was doing, just wanting to save his dear mother's life, he took his knife, ramming the blade deep into his father's back, not just once or twice, but again and again. Like in a dream, worse than the most horrible nightmare, he slowly saw his dad breaking down, glassy eyes sober for a moment as he realized what was happening, before they veiled again. He stared at his son, at his murderer, while his blood splashed from the many gashes Jared's blade had torn into his skin, wetting the floor and coloring the moldy, old straw a deep red.

For a long time the boy looked at the corpse that used to be his dad, fighting emotions - anger and fear, sadness and hate - until it finally dawned on him what he had done, the dark red liquid somehow blinding his eyes, the reek of copper mutilating his nose. From one second to the next, sickness overwhelmed Jared and before he could even choke it down, bile was rising up and Jared found himself kneeling in the straw, the cold loamy ground seeping through his thin trousers and his dad's blood wetting it. Only after long minutes, his retching noises drowning out his mom's and sister's cries, did Jared's sickness slowly fade away and he calmed down well enough to observe the damage his dad had done. Megan stared at him with big, teary eyes, face red, but apart from the shock she seemed to be alright. Yet, his mom was in a much worse state. There were countless bruises, a broken nose and wrist and she was coughing blood, a sure sign that a broken rib had injured her lung, and a sure sign that no matter whether Jared could find a doctor to look at her or not, she wouldn't make it. He carried her onto the only cot in the room, tucked her in all the blankets they owned and was sitting by her side, almost grateful that she didn't regain consciousness again. With teary eyes, Jared watched his mom die, her flat breathing growing weaker with every breath she took until, with one last effort, one final strong breath, she was gone, leaving Jared and his sister alone in that world.

Although Jared missed his mom, not much changed for him once his parents were gone. He had taken responsibility for his family before and he was taking care of his little sister now, making sure that one of the women in the neighborhood had an eye on Megan while he was ‘working‘, making sure that there was always food in her belly, sometimes an apple, sometimes warm chestnuts or even candy, when he could steal enough money to buy some. He showered Megan with all the love he had, tried to make up for what his dad had destroyed, tried to make their life more bearable and even made sure that she got at least a bit of education as he taught her to write and read. Their life wasn't perfect but better than that of many laborer families. Yet, less than two years after Jared's parents passed, Megan fell ill with consumption and not even the doctor in the hospital Jared brought her to was able to help the girl.

After he had buried Megan, Jared's life changed. His purpose in life gone, he didn't see a goal in life, a real reason to live any longer. All he had ever learned – apart from writing and reading – was stealing and while it had looked like a great career as long as his sister was alive, it suddenly didn't anymore. Being fourteen, almost a man, Jared found himself dreaming of an honest life after all. He dreamed of leaving London, maybe even England, trying his luck somewhere else, looking for a challenge. He had savings, money buried deep into the ground in his little hut, but it wasn't enough for a fare to the west and he needed more if he wanted to realize his dreams.

On a foggy, chill night in October, Jared secretly sneaked after a man, following him down the narrow lane, ready to strike. But when he did, the man was faster and before Jared even knew what was happening, he lost consciousness, a fist slammed into his temple, knocking him out for several hours. When he awoke he found himself gagged and tied to a beam in a dark, moist chamber. So long was Jared imprisoned that one day melted into the next and the kid lost all feeling for time. The things the man did to him were so cruel, so torturous that even years later Jared was petrified when he even thought about it. When the man who called himself Finn the Finger was done with Jared, he was broken, becoming Finn's toy, doing the crime boss' dirty work for him. At first it was only small robberies, but soon, after Finn had noticed Jared's talent, there were bigger jobs for him to do and at the age of seventeen, Jared killed again, this time for his living and to stay alive himself.

Months turned into years, Jared perfected his skill, becoming more hard-nosed, more brutal and frightening with every killing. He preferred to strangle his victims, sometimes so hard that their throats were cut, never once failing, no matter how hard the resistance he faced was. Jay the Joker, the Strangler, the Butcher was born.

~*~

“Closing time.” The landlord's voice boomed through the still busy inn, waking Jared up from his thoughts. Staring into his beer, Jay couldn't tell how long he had been absent, thinking about the past, about his path in life and the things he had done, the countless men he had murdered, from his dad over a decade ago to the ambitious politician he had killed last week.

Weighing the bag of gold in his hand, Jared knew that what he would get for this new job was more than enough for him to leave the country at long last. It was time to finally turn his back to London, to England, to his past and his miserable life.

Jensen Ackles would be his last victim.

Two

Jared was sitting in the small room he had rented a year ago, after he had gotten rid of Finn the Finger, nothing else of the corpulent man to be found than his finger. Of course, his landlady didn't have a clue what Jared was doing to earn his living and the old lady didn't care anyways. All she cared about was that he paid his rent weekly, that he kept his room clean and didn't disturb her other tenants. Jared didn't and he was sure no one suspected that the quiet, lonely young man, unremarkable in spite of his height, was the monster, the creature the police were searching for after he had killed Thompson, the young politician.

Not thinking about that any longer, Jared was looking through the few pages the stranger had handed him in a closed envelope. It consisted of a very exact schedule of his newest victim's daily routine, addresses of his house in South Kensington, his medical practice and the clubs he went to as well as a very exact description of the man, though no photograph. That didn't matter, until now Jared had always killed the right man and he'd have no problem killing Ackles either.

He had gotten everything he needed and more than he could have asked for but nevertheless, Jared was thorough, a professional, not rushing anything. No matter what, before he struck he took a few days, sometimes even weeks, to prepare his task, to observe his victim and his routine. This time Jared didn't have weeks, the stranger having told Jared that Ackles had to die within the next few days - the sooner, the better. But still, Jared didn't want to be unprepared and so he'd start in the afternoon, observing Ackles' residence, making sure that the information written down on the notes were correct.

~*~

Jared gave the coachman Ackles' address, noticing as soon as he'd arrived that it'd be difficult to observe the place inconspicuously because the street was fringed with houses on both sides. That wouldn't give him the chance to spend more than a few minutes outside, because prying housemaids would surely notice him sooner or later.

Jared used one of his tricks, pulling out a card that read “Samuel Winchester – Private Investigator” a name he sometimes used when he was “investigating”, knocking at the servants' entrance that was opened by a plump woman in her mid-forties wearing an apron, certainly the cook. Having a huge repertoire of stories he used, he told the cook that he was looking for a housemaid called Sally – every second housemaid was called Sally – because she had inherited a remarkable sum of money from a grand aunt.

With regret, the woman told Jared that Sally had left them a few months ago. Cunningly Jared asked if any other of the household staff or the lady of the house could tell him anything, learning exactly what he wanted to; the number of staff and that there wasn't a Mrs Ackles in the household. Freely, Lucy, as she introduced herself, told Jared that there hadn't been a lady ever since she had started to work for the doctor and that had been five years ago. Not pushing further but asking this and that, half an hour later Jared had found out enough about Jensen Ackles to know that he was exactly the person described in the notes. Hard working and intelligent, kind towards his servants, spending his rare free time mainly in his favorite club. He sounded like the perfect gentleman but Jared didn't even wonder why someone wanted to see him dead, that being something he never cared about. Lucy also mentioned that Jake, the coachman, picked him up from his club at 11:00 pm each Tuesday night. So, if he wanted to talk to her master in person, he would have to come another day.

Cheering inside, Jared thanked Lucy for her kindness and hospitality, leaving the doctor's residence, already making plans for the evening.

~*~

Disguised by the shade of the tree the moonlight threw over the pavement, Jared was watching the club's main entrance from the opposite side of the street, hiding even deeper in the shadow whenever a carriage jolted over the cobblestone. A glance at his watch, Jared's most valuable possession, told him that it was 10:54 pm and only a few minutes later, when the bell on the church nearby chimed the full hour, a man exited the brightly illuminated building, a man fitting exactly the description Jared had gotten. Within a second, Jared had jumped onto the coach box of the chaise he had hired, even being grateful towards Finn for teaching him how to steer a carriage, slowly following Ackles' hansom, the distance between them wide enough that it wasn't too suspicious. Hooves and wheels clattered over the stone, almost deafening as they echoed through the otherwise silent night. He rode for a good twenty minutes and soon Jared noticed that the carriage was not driving Ackles' home but towards another destination. Finally, it stopped in front of a big house in Chelsea and Jared reduced the pace, riding past the house the moment his victim entered it while his carriage turned around, the coachman not steering it into the backyard to the stables to wait for his master but back where he came from, a sign that the doctor would stay overnight.

Making sure that no one watched him, Jared brought his own carriage to a halt, observing the house, not only seeing the front side from his position but also half of the windows that faced the east. Within twenty minutes, all but one window on the first floor were lying in darkness and swiftly but quietly, Jared hurried over the empty street, climbing over the hedge that separated property from pavement and crept towards the illuminated french window.

The room was the library, all walls, even the ones with the french windows in it, being adorned by dark wooden book shelves, a couple of comfortable looking armchairs dominating the interior. Two men were sitting in these armchairs, backs facing the windows, so Jared dared to have a closer look. He didn't have a problem recognizing Ackles. Not because he had seen him when he had exited his club, because then he had only been able to catch a quick glimpse from afar, but because the description fitted so well, though it didn't do the man any justice. Taller than average, short, spiked hair, handsome features, wrinkles around his eyes Jared could see whenever Ackles turned his head slightly, the man was simply gorgeous. He couldn't hear much of the conversation but the doctor's voice was deep and pleasant and the occasional laughs were infectious.

Jared found himself just watching the man, at first not even realizing what he was doing, that he was staring, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, fascinated by the man's beauty, by his expressive gestures, his posture. An unknown tingle spread through his gut, making Jared feel like never before in his life, strangely light and slightly dizzy. He could have watched the older man the whole night, listening to the tone of his voice but then the atmosphere inside the room shifted. Suddenly, it somehow sparkled with tension and expectation and within the glimpse of an eye, the host, a man Jared hadn't even paid attention to, was over Ackles. For a second it looked like he'd attacked but quite soon Jared noticed that it was something else, a wild foreplay to something very intimate.

Taking in a sharp, surprised breath, Jared stepped back and pressed his back against the wall, not having been prepared for something like that. He felt emotions welling up, feelings Jared thought he had buried a long time ago. No matter how hard he tried, suddenly he was walking down memory lane, finding himself again in that damp cellar, a naked, corpulent man towering above him, rough, greedy fingers touching him on the most intimate parts of his body, suddenly penetrating him unprepared.

Only the sound of a nocturnal animal brought Jared back to the present. Jared found himself crouching and shuddering on the cool, moist lawn, fighting with the emotions that were washing over him; the shame, the guilt, the anger but most of all the rage and hate he felt when he remembered what Finn had done to him. Breathing hard, it took Jared a while to calm down. Not daring to look into the room once again, the thought of watching the two men fucking unbearable at the moment, he almost fled from the property, chasing his carriage through London, running away from all the memories and feelings as if a thousand demons were behind him.

Three

When Jared woke up the next day, a dull headache was torturing him. He hadn't suffered from them for a long time but then, when Finn had done those horrible things to him, they had afflicted Jared almost daily. Staying in bed for a while, hoping that the pain would just go away if he closed his eyes and didn't move at all, Jared found himself wondering why yesterday's occurrences had affected him so much, why those two men kissing had torn that scar open again but on the other hand had made Jared feel slightly…lonely, maybe even a little aroused? He had never felt any satisfaction, any pleasure when Finn had fucked him senseless, far from it; but Jared hadn't felt anything either when he had paid whores to give him satisfaction. After a while, he hadn't sought pleasure in sex any longer. Yet that simple foreplay, those few seconds of hands grabbing and tearing on clothes, of lips and tongues sucking and licking had been stimulating before the memories had taken a hold of Jared.

Now, as he was lying in his bed, morning sun shining through the ragged curtains, tickling his nose, Jared found himself wishing that it had been him kissing those full lips, that those fingers that had ripped open the older man's vest had ripped open his shirt, that Ackles had moaned his name and not that of another man.

“What the fuck?” Jared called into the silence of the room, hoping to chase his thoughts away, never having felt something like that before. In all those years, ever since Finn had sent him out killing for the first time, Jared had never once cared who he had to kill. No matter if young or old, male or female, husband or wife, father or mother, Jared had done his job, no matter what. And suddenly, he found himself thinking about his next victim, admiring him in an unknown way, almost longing to touch, to talk to him.

With difficulty, Jared had to fight the urge to get up and seek Ackles out in his practice, asking for some medicine for his headache or anything else, just to look at him, to hear him talk, to see those hands dancing through the air. Instead, the young killer buried his hammering head into his pillow, fighting down his half erect cock. He decided that the sooner he dealt with Ackles, the better. He would observe him one more time tonight and tomorrow, he would strike.

~*~

Jensen Ackles left his practice at exactly 6:30 pm, being picked up by his coachman who deftly steered his hansom through the busy London traffic, not noticing that he was being followed by the same carriage as last night. Today, he brought the doctor home, and so all Jared had to do was wait. He parked his carriage at the end of the street, just hoping that no one would steal it and, using the shadows the houses provided, moved through the luckily quiet street until he had reached Ackles’ house - where he hid behind one of the many bushes in the garden.

He watched the man having dinner in the company of a young blonde woman and an older man who both bore a slight resemblance to him, telling Jared that they were probably his siblings. Once more, without having a chance to influence his reaction, he found himself watching no one else but Jensen Ackles, pricking his ears so that he could hear an occasional word in the conversation, watching each expression on his face, the way he looked at his siblings, full of affection, the way he laughed, tipping his head back, mouth open, showing two rows of healthy, unusually white teeth. He really seemed like a good man and for the first time ever Jared wondered why someone wanted to see this man dead, this gentleman, handsome, bright and funny. What had or hadn't he done that someone wanted Jared to kill him?

Never before had Jared found himself in doubt. He had never allowed it, not when he had killed the young mother of three or the hard-working father of five. But now, as he watched the man, Jared felt scruples creeping up from deep within. A man like Jensen Ackles surely didn't deserve to die. A man with such extraordinary beauty and charisma certainly deserved to live, so that he could help his patients, so that he could bring a bit of joy to his family and friends.

Stop it! Jared screamed in his head, punching his palm against his forehead again and again in the vain attempt to get some sense into his mind, to finally realize that thoughts like that were stupid, that this wasn't about that guy sitting inside his cozy sitting room but that it was a mere job, like every other Jared had done before. He didn't feel any grudge against Ackles but Jared had his orders and he was to fulfill them, one last time before he'd move on, leave Britain to find his new life, his new beginning in Boston or New York, or somewhere else on the North American continent.

Ackles' siblings left around midnight and while the servants were still cleaning away the glasses in the sitting room, a light was switched on in the upper floor, giving the location of the doctor's bedroom away. It was all Jared had been waiting for. As swiftly and secretly as Jared had arrived he left the property, making plans for how he would break into the house and kill its owner.

~*~

The next day Jared prepared everything for the night, gloves, tools, rope and knife, but he quickly noticed that he wasn't completely into it. Whenever he looked at the sharp blade he felt an unknown sensation wash over him, an emotion he hadn't felt for almost a decade: regret. Thinking that this shiny blade would cut Ackles' throat – because that was less cruel than strangling him – made him feel strangely sad. He couldn't allow himself to feel like that, but he couldn't help it either. The emotions were just there, gnawing on something Jared thought he didn't even have anymore, his conscience.

Get yourself together, Jay , he told himself again and again, forcing himself to forget that smile, those lips, that voice, just concentrating on the job. He tried thinking about Jensen Ackles as an old, unsympathetic, totally unattractive, mean man, hoping that it would help him concentrate on his task but whenever Jared was sure he had made it, the unknown ugly man's face was chased away by Jensen's handsome features, leaving Jared more confused than ever before.

Nevertheless, half-heartedly, Jared set off in the late evening, arriving at Ackles' place around midnight. The house was lying in complete darkness and the curtains of the main bedroom were drawn, a sign that Jensen was at home and sleeping. Deftly and quietly, Jared picked the lock on the servants' entrance, silently stepping into the dark house, though he waited a few seconds just to make sure that no one had heard him. It remained as shadowy and quiet as before, and so Jared scurried from one door to the next, pausing again and again to listen, but all he could hear was his own breathing. Finally, he reached the staircase, minding every step as he climbed up and looking up and down the upper hallway when he finally reached it. As the servants normally slept in the attic, he was sure that all rooms led to bedrooms and from the direction he knew the main bedroom lay, he chose a door, quietly turning the doorknob, just hoping that the wooden door wouldn't give him away.

On tiptoes, Jared stepped into the room, knowing at once that he was right. It was huge - his parents' shabby hut would have fit in it twice - and was only lit by slivers of moonlight seeping through the closed curtain. A huge bed dominated it and in this bed slept Jensen Ackles, dreaming of something pleasant, Jared was sure of it, because those full lips were curled into a little smile. Quietly, Jared sneaked forwards until he was standing next to the bed, watching the man. Ackles was a couple of years older than him though not thirty yet; but sleeping curled up like that, he looked unbelievably young and vulnerable, the way the long line of his neck was exposed. Jared found himself just staring, admiring the handsome face he hadn't seen that close before, noticing the countless freckles that were sprinkled over nose and cheek, admiring his lashes, long and dark, touching the freckled skin softly. The man's features looked soft in the silver moonlight and such a charm emanated from the sleeping man that for a while, Jared even forgot where he was and why he was standing there at all, just admiring that masterpiece of human kind. Jared only remembered the reason he was standing in the unknown bedroom when Jensen's lids quivered slightly though stayed closed, and the man nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow, sighing almost inaudibly, somehow reminding Jared of the way his sister used to sleep next to him a long time ago.

That was when Jared realized that he couldn't do it. It hit him like lightning, the knowledge that it would be wrong, that he could never live with it, that he'd never be happy, as far as he ever could be happy at all, if he took that adorable man's life away. He couldn't do it, couldn't stain his already dirty hands with the murder of that pure, attractive man.

Quivering slightly, fighting hard to hold his composure and the strange emotions that were washing over him, Jared drew back, leaving Ackles' house as secretly as he had arrived.

Four

Jared still couldn't believe what had happened. He tossed and turned in his bed, the iron bedstead creaking with every move, trying hard to reason with himself, finding out why he had failed, the first time in his life. Why hadn't he been able to kill Jensen Ackles? He should have been, the man was a victim like everybody else, a stranger, an anonymous guy and it should have been so easy, it would have been so easy to slit his throat and see his life bleeding out of him.

But it hadn't been. Jared had been touched that night, no, not only that night but the nights before, ever since he had laid eyes on Jensen Ackles for the first time, and he couldn't tell why that had happened and what these sensations meant after all. Was it desire? Longing? Attraction? Was it admiration or sympathy? Jared hadn't felt emotions like those for years, having almost forgotten that they existed, had believed that he wasn't able to feel anything else but hate and anger, but as he was lying in his semi-dark room Jared had to admit that it was exactly those feelings that had hindered him from doing his job, that they had saved Jensen Ackles' life.

Only when dawn slowly crept up did Jared finally fall asleep, having made a decision.

~*~

He knew, it wasn't logical and it was probably the stupidest thing he would ever do in his whole life but Jared just couldn't help it. Even if it brought him to the gallows, he had to do what he had to do and that was to warn Jensen Ackles that someone wanted to see him dead.

While he was sitting in the doctor's waiting room, tapping his feet on the floor uncommonly nervous, staring at the plain, white walls, he wanted nothing but to run away, as fast as he could, as far away as possible, leaving his old life and the occurrences of the past days behind. But he couldn't. He was done killing but if he didn't warn the man, he would still have Jensen Ackles' blood on his hands, because if it wasn't him, it would be someone else who took the young doctor‘s life.

Jared couldn't tell how long he had been waiting before a nurse called and led him into the examination room. Doctor Ackles was sitting behind his desk, looking up when Jared entered the room and got up as Jared slowly approached him, legs feeling like jello.

“How do you do?” The doctor reached out his hand and when he didn't even receive an answer, he just pointed to the wooden chair and asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Winchester?”

“There's something I need to tell you, something you've got to know.” Jared hated how unsure his voice sounded but even though Ackles furrowed his brow, he kept on talking. “Please just hear me out. First of all, you should know that my name isn't Samuel Winchester. It's Jared.”

The doctor nodded, not even looking surprised, probably because it wasn't unusual for patients to use a fake identity, for whatever reason. “A couple of days ago, a man sought me out, offering me a remarkable amount of money for a job. I took the money and agreed to do the job. I'm the best in my business, I've never failed… until yesterday. For the first time, I couldn't do it.”

“What?” Ackles asked, sounding curious.

“Kill you, Mr Ackles.”

In the first second, something like amusement flitted over the doctor's face before it was replaced with realization of what he had just heard and the look became one of pure terror and panic.

Jared looked at him insistently. “Please, don't call someone, not yet. Your life is at stake here.”

“My life,” he breathed out, “is at stake the longer I listen to you.”

Sighing, Jared shook his head. “No, it isn't. Look, I will put my hands on the table.” He did just that. “And if you like, you can tie me up on the chair, but please, just hear me out. I know who I am, know that I am not trustworthy but please, if you want to live longer than the next few days, listen to me.”

As openly as possible, Jared looked the other man in the eyes, only noticing then how beautifully green they were, another piece in the masterpiece that God had created in the man. “I'm not going to kill you, I promise. Not now, not ever. I just want you to know that you are in grave danger. The man who paid me, he sounded…desperate. He told me I mustn't fail.”

“Why? Did he tell you why?” Ackles' voice still quivered.

“No, I'm sorry. He didn't tell me and I never asked. Normally, I never care.”

“Why now?” The older man asked curiously.

Jared felt how he blushed slightly and he hated himself for it, for his own weakness. Of course he couldn't tell Jensen the real reason, but he couldn't lie to him, either. “Because, watching you, something…touched me. I can't tell you why but I just couldn't snuff you out.”

The other man nodded. “Okay. I'm going to hear you out. But give me a minute, I need to tell Mary that she has to send the remaining patients home.”

He got up and Jared could hear Jensen talking to the nurse, telling her something about a “family emergency”, asking her to send the patients home and call it a day as well. Then Jensen came back into the room, taking an old single malt from a cupboard, pouring himself a generous shot and offering Jared one, too. “Right. So, tell me everything.”

And Jared did, telling the doctor what he knew about the case.

It was quiet for a while when Jared was done and the doctor's face was a thoughtful, still very worried mask. “Thank you,” he finally said, “for sparing me.”

That lured a smile out of Jared, showing dimples he hadn't shown for a very long time and suddenly his laughter was booming through the room. “I can't believe that you just thanked me for not killing you.”

“And I can't believe that you couldn't do it, Jared. Two hundred pounds is a fortune.”

“Yeah, it is. But…all my life, I've done bad things, been a criminal, first because I didn't have a choice and then because I hadn't learned anything else. So maybe it's time to do something right.”

The older man smiled a bit, almost sadly, not replying but asking another question. “What can you tell me about the man who sought you out? About the notes you got?”

Jared couldn't remember much, but he shared what he had noticed and in the end, handed Ackles the envelope with the information. “Does the handwriting look familiar to you?” Jared asked, only to receive a shake of the head in return.

Again, an awkward silence fell between the two men. “Unfortunately, there's nothing else I can tell you, Dr. Ackles. So if you like, you can call the police now, I won't run away.”

Smiling, the doctor shook his head. “Don't worry, I won't call the police. If I do, you'll be hanging in a week and -” Again, he shook his head. “I just can't. I'm a doctor, I don't take life but give it. And apart from that, in a way, you saved mine, so I'm saving yours now.”

With disbelief, Jared stared at the other man. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. But if you want to do something to lessen your guilt, I have a job for you to do.”

Jared looked at him questioningly.

“Help me find out who wants to see me dead.” Jensen's voice sounded hopeful and pleading at the same time.

“Why do you want to know, why don't you just leave?”

“I can't just leave. I have my family here, friends, my patients, my -”

“Lover."

The other man looked shocked. “How do you know?” His voice trembled in panic and he finished his whiskey in one deep gulp, staring into the empty glass instead of looking at Jared..

“I told you, I watched you. And don't worry, I won't turn you in.” Jared didn't dare tell the other man that he wasn't any different than him, those things better remained untold, but the way Dr. Ackles looked up at him and smiled both thankfully and knowingly told Jared that he somehow knew nonetheless.

Not even hesitating, the doctor reached out his hand again. “Jensen,” he introduced himself, “it's nice to meet you, Jared. So, what do we have to do to find out who wants to see me dead?”

Jared took the offered hand, squeezing it tightly, holding onto it a second longer than normally appropriate, feeling a connection with the man he had never felt with anyone else before.

An hour later, both men were sitting in Jensen's cozy sitting room, enjoying a delicious meal and the best wine Jared had ever tasted.

“Okay,” he started after they had finished their supper. “Tell me, Jensen, who knows you well enough to give me such a good description.”

“My siblings, my two best friends Christian and Steven, patients, colleagues…there're a lot of people who actually know me, my daily routine and my habits well enough to write down this information. And of course, Arthur.”

“Arthur?”

“My…partner,” he whispered that word. “Arthur Marshall.”

Somehow, the name rang a bell in Jared´s mind. “Arthur Marshall? Lord Marshall? The member of parliament?”

Surprised, like he hadn't expected a simple man like Jared to know such things, Jensen lifted his brows a little. “Exactly.”

Jared didn't like the thought, but a man standing in the spotlight like Lord Marshall might have a reason to get rid of Jensen. “I'm sorry but I have to ask. Might he have any reason to kill you?”

Thoughtfully, Jensen looked into the flames that were dancing in the fireplace, shrugging after a while. “We've had a few arguments recently but honestly, it was nothing.”

“What were the arguments about?” He noticed that Jensen hesitated, and added. “I'm sorry, I see that you don't feel comfortable talking about this, but I really have to know, Jensen. Every little helps, every hint could be the one that helps us in solving this mystery and saving your life.”

“Our relationship. Of course I know we can't live together but well, Arthur's giving a party for a couple of friends, mainly politicians, representatives of parliament, on Saturday and he didn't want me to come. Said it would be far too suspicious if a simple doctor attended.” Jensen sounded neutral but there was a hint of anger in his voice. “Then, there's money. No one knows it but Arthur's wealth is almost gone and he asked me, not for the first time, to help him out so that he could pay his debt with someone else. I told him that it'd be the last time and he…wasn't happy.”

“Is he your heir?”

“No, not quite. In case of my death, most of my fortune goes to my siblings, though a respectable amount would also go to a trust Arthur founded a few years ago.”

“So, he would benefit from it?”

Jensen sighed. “Yeah, I think so. I can't prove it but I have a sneaking suspicion that he embezzles money from the trust to pay for his exorbitant living. And,” Jensen took in a deep breath, “there's something else. Last year, his wife died, horseback-riding accident. She was a good rider and well, I suggested Arthur to have an autopsy done, because it was just weird that she fell off a horse, her own, one she had ridden for years, but he wouldn't let me.”

Jared whistled. “Let me guess. She had a lot of money.”

“Yeah, she had, being the single child of a very wealthy man who had died two years before Melissa. Back then, I didn't say anything but recently Arthur said something and it made me wonder if Melissa's death wasn't as natural as it had seemed and -”

“You mentioned your suspicion.”

“Yeah, well. I did. He looked aghast and told me I was seeing ghosts but somehow it was strange and thinking about it now, I don't really believe him.”

“I'm sorry,” Jared sighed, “but right now it looks like your partner has a motive to kill you.”

Emotions clearly written in Jensen's face, he nodded slowly, murmuring, “Yes, I think that, too,” before he buried his face in his hands, the only sound his harsh breathing and the big log in the fireplace that fell in upon itself.

Socially awkward as Jared was, he didn't know what to do. Should he go, leaving Jensen in his silent misery? Or should he stay, providing company and maybe silent comfort? He thought about it for a while but in the end, when several minutes had passed without Jensen asking him to leave, he decided to stay, watching the flames, feeling Jensen's pain. He'd never had a partner, a lover, or a relationship, but as he remembered his mother's tears when his dad had started whoring, he knew that a betrayal, no matter what it was about, weighed heavily on your mind and hurt you deeply.

Jensen hadn't cried but he looked miserable and sitting up straight, he tried hard for any kind of composure, reaching out for the glass of whiskey, not even noticing that it was empty at first. Before he could get the bottle himself, Jared had jumped up and brought it over to pour Jensen a very generous shot. “Thank you,” he murmured almost inaudibly and added an even quieter, “I'm sorry,” before he downed half of the glass in one, big gulp.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Jared answered. “It must be a shock. So, what do you want to do now?”

“Can we maybe not talk about it right now? There's a lot I need to think about first.”

The younger man took that as a request to leave. “I'd better go then.”

“No,” Jensen called out, “I didn't mean it like that. Please stay. I hope you don't mind me saying this so bluntly but you're the most intriguing person I've met recently. Tell me about yourself, if you like.”

Feeling himself blush, Jared shifted in the armchair, feeling uncommonly shy all of a sudden. Until now, no one had ever taken an interest in his life because it never seemed important, neither to Jared himself nor to the few people around him. He was just one of the many kids growing up in the slums by the docks, stealing for his and his family's living - anonymous, dirty, malnourished. Even Finn had only asked Jared after two months of beating and torturing whether he had a name or whether he would prefer to be called Vermin or Nothing for the rest of his miserable life. He took a mouthful of his whiskey, but then he nodded, telling Jensen his story, about his mom and dad, his siblings and how he had to start stealing so his family had a chance to survive. He ended with his sister dying and suddenly he felt his eyes filling up with liquid he hadn't felt there for a very long time, not since Finn had called him a cry-baby when he had broken Jay's wrist just for the fun of it.

“I can't imagine what you went through, Jared,” Jensen acknowledged after a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, both men sipping on their beverage. “It seems so unfair. I grew up in wealth, having maids, a private teacher, clothes for all kinds of occasions and food whenever I was hungry, a warm, comfortable bed in a room of my own while you had nothing of that, nothing at all. The world is not fair.”

Jared shrugged, not sure what he should say about something like that, and after a while, he said. “It's not your fault, that things are like they are. You can try and help but in the end, there will always be kids like me. And I survived, I'm fine.”

He could see that Jensen wanted to say something, already opening his lips slightly, but he changed his mind before a single sound could escape his throat, staring into the flames, looking a bit odd.

“I’ll go now,” Jared announced. “Tomorrow, we should meet somewhere else. There's a pub near the British Museum, ‘The Red Lion‘, I know the landlord. Meet me there at 7.”

“I'll be there. Good night.”

“Good night, Jensen.”

Five

Jensen couldn't believe what had happened ever since the tall, gangly man had entered his examination room, telling him that he wasn't a patient but a killer sent by some unknown man to assassinate him. A part of Jensen had screamed inside, calling him nuts as he listened to the young man. Yet as shady, as untrustworthy Jared must seem to everyone, somehow, Jensen had believed, had even trusted Jared as soon as he had calmed down and the shock had waned. The hatchet man had a strange aura around him, offish and emotionless at first glance but after Jensen had watched him, especially in the past hours they had spent together here in his sitting room, he had seen emotions in those big hazel eyes, emotions he hadn't expected someone like Jared to have at all. It was those emotions, a sparkle in his eye, a hint of a smile, the tone of his voice and his gestures that had gained Jensen's trust. Without a doubt, Jensen knew that the young man wouldn't hurt him. If he wanted to, he could have done it in his practice or in the past four hours at his home. And as certain as Jensen knew this, he also knew that Jared had been genuine the whole time, that not a single lie had escaped Jared's chapped lips and that he was more than willing, almost eager, to help.

In Jensen's eyes, Jared really was an intriguing person, having lived a life so different from his own, a life in poverty and fear, in sorrow and pain. Jensen had always known that thousands of people in London grew up just like Jared, that hundreds of children had to do what Jared had to do, stealing to stay alive and that was why he regularly donated a good part of his money to trusts. Though he knew, it wasn't more than a drop in the ocean, not enough to really help. But knowing and listening to someone's story was something different and Jensen had felt compassion but also sort of admiration for the boy Jared used to be. It hadn't been honest work, far from it, but still the kid had managed to keep his family alive until his father had destroyed it in the end, leaving Jared with the only possibility he'd had, killing his own dad. An incomprehensible step and nevertheless, Jensen couldn't even blame him, in a way it had been kind of self-defense. When Jared had finished his tale, Jensen knew that there was much more to hear, the dark part, about how a simple pickpocket had become a murderer. The veil that had clouded Jared's eyes as soon as he had finished the part of his youth had told Jensen though that Jared wasn't ready for telling that tale, maybe never would be.

Sighing, the doctor sipped on his whiskey, wondering why he was thinking about the man so much, a stranger, while there was someone else he should think about, someone familiar, someone loved. Probably it was suppression because the thought that Arthur, one of his closest friends, his confidant, his partner and lover, wanted to see him dead had tightened Jensen's chest and had ripped his heart out. Now, after the first shock had waned away, it hurt worse than ever before. For a second, Jensen even wished that Jared had killed him, had spared him the knowledge of this painful betrayal, but the thought washed away, leaving a big hole in his heart that Jensen wasn't sure could ever be filled again. Yes, they had had disagreements and arguments, but Jensen had trusted Arthur and more than that, he had loved him. They had both taken a huge risk, living out their sexual affinity, acting against the law, and because Arthur couldn't accept some of Jensen's decisions, he wanted to see him dead? The thought was unbearable, the knowledge unforgivable and there seemed to be no medicine for the pain Jensen felt, the whiskey only numbing it slightly and Jared's sincere sympathy and almost kind eyes only a light balm on his hurting soul.

Feeling suddenly much older than he was, Jensen finally got up and, legs as heavy as his heart, shuffled tiredly upstairs and - to the surprise of his butler - into one of the many guestrooms, because he couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in the bed he had shared with Arthur so many times.

~*~

Jensen was anxious the whole next day, especially as Arthur surprisingly dropped by around midday, asking him out to have lunch together. Trying hard not to show how doubtful, almost scared he was, Jensen agreed. He was grateful that they were in public, that by no means would they share intimate gestures or words, that today, like every time they weren't in the relative safety of their own properties, they were only two friends.

“You okay, Jensen? You seem so absent,” Arthur asked when the younger man hadn't answered a question.

“Yes, of course, I'm sorry Arthur. It's just a patient on my mind. A little girl in a very serious condition.”

“You shouldn't think about your work so much, especially not in your rare free time. Why don't you come over tonight?” The other man offered. “I'm sure I could find ways to distract you.”

Jensen's heart dropped, realizing that he'd never again share Arthur's bed, would never get fucked by him and fuck him in return. Voice as neutral and emotionless as possible, he answered. “I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going to meet up with an old friend of mine.”

“Do I know him?”

“Samuel?” He used the false identity Jared had given to him, “No, I doubt that. He's the son of one of my father's oldest friends and they moved up north, to Chester, when we were around twelve,” Jensen lied convincingly. “I haven't seen him for years.”

“That's a pity, because tomorrow is Friday and you know, you can't come to the Manor for the weekend.”

“I know I can't.” Now Jensen's voice was sharp, remembering their argument recently, not being welcome at the gathering. “I know I am not good enough in the circle of your politician friends. And I think, I'd rather go now, consultation starts in half an hour and I still need to read something. I will see you next week, Arthur. Goodbye.”

Without giving Arthur a chance to say something Jensen got up, leaving enough money on the table to cover his lunch. If he hadn't listened so carefully, he would have missed the softly whispered “You won't” Arthur breathed out.

Six

The Red Lion was busy, all tables taken. Even after Jensen's glance had wandered over the crowd a second time, he still couldn't find Jared. He thought the young man had abandoned him and wanted to turn around and leave, when a thick man, wearing an apron, approached him. “You Jensen?” he asked and before Jensen answered, he added. “You must be, Jay said I should look out for a very handsome man. You are. He's upstairs, third door to the right. Food and beer are upstairs too, so you won't starve, whatever you're going to do there.” He smirked and Jensen felt himself blushing at the thought, not because it was embarrassing but because it wasn't that far fetched, Jared being a handsome young man, a man Jensen wouldn't mind getting to know much better in other circumstances.

Without saying anything, Jensen tried to smirk back though he knew it was more likely a grimace and hurried upstairs where he met Jared in one of the few guest bedrooms the inn let. It was spartanly furnished but uncommonly clean and there even was a fireplace to chase the fog that had started to creep through the windows, away.

“Jensen!” Jared called to him and his lips formed into the dimpled smile that gave the young man such a sympathetic look, somehow chasing all his severity away.

“Jared,” Jensen answered, “or do you want me to call you Jay?”

The younger man laughed. “Do what you like. I'm called Jay the Joker in my circle.”

“Because you are so funny?”

He shook his head. “Nah, because, until recently, I've never failed to complete a job.”

Jensen didn't quite know what to say and so he just nodded in acknowledgment, sitting down on the wooden chair opposite Jared and helping himself to cold meat, cheese, bread and beer.

“So, Arthur came to see you today.”

Strangely, Jensen wasn't even surprised that Jared knew and somehow the knowledge that the younger man had been observing him, probably even had been watching over him, was comforting. “Yes, he had lunch with me.”

Jared nodded, like he knew that as well, and probably he did.

“It's him, Jared. He wanted to see me tonight and I told him I couldn't. I told him some story about meeting an old friend of mine. We had a little disagreement because of his party on Saturday. Again. And well, when I said I'd see him next week and left, I heard him whisper ‘You won't.’”

Another nod. “The man who hired me told me you have to be dead by Sunday night at the latest.”

It was quiet for a while, both concentrating on their meals, though Jensen didn't even notice how well flavored it was, being too lost in his thoughts.

“While I wasn't watching you today Jensen,” Jared started after a while, “I was investigating a bit, finding out more about Arthur Marshall and I learned more than I bargained for. It looks like your Arthur is as much a creature of the underworld as I am.”

Aghast, Jensen stared at Jared, seeing nothing but honesty in those eyes.

“Illegal gambling, illegal betting. He owns a whorehouse in Whitechapel and is co-owner of a factory in Liverpool where the labor conditions are inhumane. He speculated in stock and lost a good deal of his fortune and he is in debt, not only with you, Jensen, but with several loan sharks who sooner or later will send their debt collectors after him and believe me, these guys' methods aren't pleasant. He embezzled money not only from the trust you mentioned but from some others he founded years ago, and is somehow involved in illegal firearms trade with Russia, though I haven't found out more about that in such a short time. And, most importantly, your doubts about his wife's death are justified.”

“How…” Jensen stuttered, too overwhelmed with what he had just heard. Thirty hours ago, he wouldn't have believed a single word of it, would have called the man opposite him a liar, but as much as it hurt, he knew it was true.

“A man like I, Jensen,” and now Jared's voice sounded not neutral anymore, but unusually kind, “has his sources. I don't have friends, but a lot of acquaintances, many people who owe me for…well, helping get rid of a problem, if you know what I mean.”

“You killed for them,” Jensen whispered.

“I did. Without taking money. Jensen, you have every reason to despise me. I despise myself, when I think about it longer. But believe me that probably three-quarters of the people I killed were actually scum…like I am. Swindlers, blackmailers, kidnappers, rapists. It doesn't mean that they deserved to die, it doesn't justify what I do but…”

“It makes it a bit easier for you.” Somehow Jensen understood. He wasn't infallible. Half a year ago he had treated a tailor with pneumonia who had been known to beat his wife and kids and Jensen hadn't felt any regrets when the man died in pain.

Jared nodded almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, I found out a lot about your partner, Jensen. He is a stone-cold man, without any conscience. I don't like to say it but I think Arthur is like me, Jensen.”

The younger man looked like reality just struck him and the realization that he wasn't any better than Arthur Marshall drained the blood from his face and made Jared slightly tremble, a reaction that surprised Jensen, and he could tell Jared was surprised as well.

“I don't think you are like him, Jared,” Jensen said after a while, not to comfort him but because he really believed it. “Arthur, he was born with privileges you never had, with money and status. He could have taken another road, could have led an honest life. You didn't have much choice, Jared. Your parents made you a pickpocket and well, even though I don't know how you became a killer, I somehow doubt that you started it voluntarily.”

Eyes darkening, features becoming withdrawn, Jensen noticed that his suspicion was correct. “I might not have had a choice at first, but I had a choice in the past year, and didn't quit.”

“But you wanted to.”

Jared nodded. “I still want to.” He sighed, massaging his temples with his long fingers, like he was having a painful headache.

“I'm sure you will make it.” Jensen smiled encouragingly at the young man, silently making the promise to help Jared with his resolution.

They were halfway through making plans for Saturday, when they wanted to strike, when the door of the room burst open and the man in the white apron, surely the landlord, stormed inside, heavily panting. “Jay!” he yelled, “You need to go! Now!! There's a couple of thugs down here, asking for your buddy here.”

“What?” Jared and Jensen called out simultaneously.

“No time for questions, run! Take the trapdoor in the last room, Jay, you know where it will lead you to.”

Not really grasping what was happening, he suddenly felt a hand being wrapped around his wrist, tugging him up. “Come on!” Jared called, shooing him out of the room, running down the corridor.

The second Jensen had reached the last door, pulling it open, he heard the first gun shot booming through the hallway, Jared's cursing drowned by the deafening sound of the shot. He was halfway inside the room, looking for some sign of the trapdoor, when a second shot was fired, followed by Jared's painful gasp and splintering wood.

“Jared!” Jensen called out in shock, and as he turned around he saw the young man staggering inside the room, holding his left hand over his right upper arm where the bullet had grazed him, tearing skin and flesh.

“Don't, Jensen. Not now. Help me with this!” With a blood smeared hand, Jared pointed towards a chest of drawers to slide in front of the door.

They already could hear boots and fists being beaten against the wooden door when they were done and if it hadn't been for Jared, Jensen would have never seen the trapdoor where the chest had been standing, just recognizable because of a slight cut in the wooden floor and a knothole to open it.

“It leads into the sewer system but I know my way round down there. You go down first.” Jared breathed hard, obviously fighting against the dizziness that overcame him in strong waves because of the heavy blood loss.

Opening the trapdoor, Jensen led the way, climbing down the longest ladder he had ever climbed, minding each step, knowing that he would be dead if he fell down. He was worried for his companion who could only take a hold with one hand, that being slippery with his own blood, and he could hear Jared's harsh breathing. When Jensen had finally reached the ground, he reached out his hands, grabbing Jared around the waist and picking him up for the last few steps. The other man didn't even protest and leaned heavily against Jensen, legs obviously weak as he was fighting the threatening unconsciousness.

“There's a lantern in a nook to your right,” Jared whispered weakly but before Jensen lit the wick, he helped Jared to sit down, pressing the injured man's back against the cool stony wall.

As soon as the flame illuminated the tiny cell they were in, throwing eerie shadows on the damp walls, Jensen crouched down next to Jared, carefully touching the man's injured upper arm, only to receive a sharp breath and a barely audible, “I'm fine,” in return.

“Sure you are, Jay. Just let me dress that.” He stripped off his jacket and chemise, tearing a long, wide stripe off the latter. For a second, he thought he saw an admiring flash in Jared's hazy eyes but he ignored it, stripping Jared's hurt arm out of his thin shirt and gently dressing the wound.

“That should be enough until I can patch you up at my practice.”

“We can't,” ared breathed hard, “go there. Not to your place, either. They'll be looking for you there.”

“Shit!” Jensen cursed when he realized that Jared was right. Suddenly he felt helpless, unsure what to do, not knowing where he could run to.

As if Jared noticed the doctor's slight panic, he offered, “My place is safe.”

Honestly, Jensen doubted that. How could the house or wherever Jared, a hatchet man, was living, be safe? Quite obviously, Jensen showed that doubt because Jared even managed a tired chuckle. “Believe me. No one knows who I am. No one has ever followed me there. I'm thorough. Let's go.”

Jensen got up, offering a hand to help Jared up, and when the man was standing next to him, legs still weak, he wrapped his arm around Jared's waist. Strangely, it didn't feel odd, touching him like that, but somehow good, safe and secure. Jared was too weak, the blood loss having taken its toll, but there was a hint of a smile twitching over his lips. Leaning onto Jensen heavily, they left the cellar through the only exit, following a dark, narrow tunnel that led into the sewer system. The odor was numbing and their steps echoed eerily through the low tunnels, only accompanied by an occasional squeak of the many rats down there and the swoosh of the dirty water, carrying along so much more than human excrement but branches, garbage and dead animals.

Jared, who was still holding onto Jensen tightly, the older man dragging him more than he walked himself, guided Jensen deftly through the labyrinth of tunnels, until at long last, probably more than an hour later, he told Jensen that they were at their journey's end. “Right in the street where I live.”

“Where are we?”

“Moreland Street, Clerkenwell,” Jared whispered.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jensen helped Jared up the iron ladder, lifting the heavy manhole cover. Jared's back was pressed against his chest and it felt uncommonly good, feeling the young man connected to him like that and he had to fight the urge to wrap his arm around Jared and tug him even closer. That didn't even seem strange to Jensen and the realization that he actually really liked the young man wasn't disturbing, far from it.

As soon as they were standing in the street, Jensen took a deep breath. The foggy air, heavy with smoke and coal dust, was still much better than what he had smelled and tasted in the past hour and he could hear Jared doing the same, gaining a bit of strength from the relatively fresh, moist air. Silently, the injured man pointed towards a house, some windows lying in darkness, some more illuminated. “That's where I live. It isn't much, just a room, but it’s better than what I had before.”

Seven

Five minutes later, Jensen stepped into the little room Jared called his own. It was tidy, something he hadn't expected, and as clean as the whole house. He helped his companion onto the bed and, after a quick look around, found what he was looking for: a glass and some liquor. It wasn't the expensive beverages Jensen could afford to drink but it was alcohol and therefore all Jared and he needed.

“Do you have any kind of dressing material?” Jensen dared to ask, though he actually didn't expect anything and was surprised when Jared pointed towards a drawer that was filled with bandages, antiseptic and even some needles.

Jensen whistled. “Wow, you´re well equipped.”

“Not the first wound I've sustained.” Jared breathed tiredly, fighting hard to keep his eyes open.

The doctor didn't doubt that, Jared's job was certainly rough. “So, let me help you get the wound cleaned and properly dressed up.”

As Jensen carefully helped Jared out of his shirt, he couldn't repress the shocked breath that escaped his lips when he laid eyes on Jared's upper body, covered with countless scars, all different in shape and size. Even worse than his chest and abdomen was the young man´s back that was adorned with countless long scars that were the definite result of being beaten with a whip.

“God Jared,” he couldn't help stuttering, “What happened to you?”

“Like I said, not the first wound I sustained,” Jared murmured, looking almost self-conscious and the veil clouding his eyes was back, telling Jensen that there was so much more to learn about the young man, about his fate, that something terrible had happened to Jared.

Affectionately, he touched Jared's lower arm. “Hey, it's okay, nothing to be ashamed of. They're…manly, they show that you are a fighter, Jay.”

Jared  didn't say anything but if Jensen wasn't much mistaken his face wasn't as withdrawn as before and his eyes weren't clouded any longer. As gently as possible, Jensen deftly cleaned the wound that the grazing shot had left, admiring Jared for not even whimpering once when he closed the torn edges of his skin with little stitches before he wrapped the linen bandages around Jared's muscled upper arm.

“As good as new,” Jensen promised before he asked, “How are you feeling now?”

“Okay, but tired, dizzy and cold.”

“That's the blood loss, Jay, nothing to worry about. You're in good hands with me.”

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, I know I am.”

Warmth spread through his body as Jensen noticed that Jared trusted him as much as he trusted Jared and even though he knew it was uncommon, he realized that he had just found a friend for life.

“You should go to sleep now, Jay,” he suggested, helping the injured man out of his boots and pants before he tucked him in, just like he had done so many times with his patients in the hospital where he had worked for a while.

“Thanks,” Jared murmured tiredly.

“You're welcome, Jay.” Jensen sat down on the worn but comfortable armchair, wrapped himself in the only thin blanket that was left and when he was sure that Jared had fallen asleep, he whispered. “You know Jared, I don't despise you, quite the contrary.”

The room was so dark that Jensen couldn't see the smile his words had conjured up on Jared's tired features and Jared's softly whispered “I like you, too” was so quiet that Jensen thought he had dreamed it when he woke up the next morning.

~*~

Jared was still a bit pale around the nose but after the strong cup of tea he'd had, he looked a bit better. Nevertheless, Jensen insisted he should stay in bed. “You lost a lot of blood, Jared,” he said kindly, like he'd explain an illness to a child. “And you'll need your strength tomorrow. So believe me when I tell you it's best if you stay in bed.”

“Do you still want to stick to our plan, Jensen? I don't know how he found out about me helping you but it didn't make our plan easier,” the younger man asked, without arguing.

Not sure about that, Jensen shrugged. “Can't think of a better time to confront Arthur with my reproaches than tomorrow at his precious party while his manor is full with notable names. He won't dare to kill me in front of them all.”

“He probably won't, Jensen. But we don't have any evidence, written evidence, for what he did. I doubt these people will believe you. You might ruin yourself. You know there is another way.”

Sighing, Jensen got up and sat down on the edge of Jared's bed. “Yeah, I know but I won't let you, Jared. I don't want you to ever kill again.”

“We might not have a choice.”

Somehow, Jensen's heart swelled when he heard Jared saying that, talking of “we”. He reached out, gently touching Jared's shoulder. “I'd rather kill Arthur myself before I let you do my dirty business, Jay. But nevertheless, I'd be glad to have you with me.”

A mischievous smile twitched over Jared's face. “I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else. I've got your back.”

They'd made plans, talking about all the likely and unlikely possibilities that could happen the next day, when Jensen suddenly realized something. “What will happen afterwards, Jared?”

The younger man looked at him thoughtfully. “Well, I think you will keep on living your life as a respectable doctor while I'll go on a new adventure, paying for my fare over the ocean and trying to start a honest life somewhere in North America.”

It was quiet between the two men for a while, Jensen thinking about what Jared had said before he admitted, “I doubt it will be so easy, Jay. One word and Arthur…he can take all my reputation away. And even if he doesn't say a thing about my sexual orientation, it's likely that some of the things that might happen tomorrow will be made public. I honestly doubt that I will have a future here.”

“Then come with me, Jensen,” Jared offered though it sounded more like a question, even like a plea.

“But…my family…my patients.”

Jared smiled at him kindly. Jensen hadn't seen him smile like that before, like he really understood what he was feeling right now. “Your family will stay your family, even if you are thousands of miles away. And your patients…there are other very good doctors in London, and I bet someone like you is needed in a frontier village in the Wild West. Please? Come with me. I think there's a place for both of us in America, a future.”

A thousand thoughts were running through Jensen's mind, emotions crashing down upon him. He was thinking about his mom, whose heart he'd probably break if he left, about his siblings and patients that had faith in him. He was even thinking about his household staff, people who depended on receiving their wages not only next week but also in six weeks. He was thinking about his lovely house, all the home comforts, his friends. It simply would be crazy giving up all that and maybe so much more, running off to America with a man he hardly knew, a man who was a hatchet man , a man from the lower class. Just crazy. But it would be the greatest adventure, the greatest challenge of his life and honestly, when Jensen was thinking about it, he didn't really see himself being how he was now in ten years time. In his practice and alone in his house with maybe a wife he had to marry sooner or later because that was what was expected of him. It was crazy, and because of that, he was ready to do it.

“What do you want me to be, Jared? What does this future hold for…us?” He risked a lot, asking that. He knew that Jared was like him and he was sure the younger man felt something for him, some kind of bond and connection, of sympathy and affection - because otherwise, Jensen would be dead already. Nevertheless, Jensen wasn't sure if he wasn't mistaken and opening himself to Jared, who still was a closed book in so many different aspects, was risky.

“Friends?” Jared answered, phrasing it like a question. The younger man hesitated, as if he wanted to suggest something else but he didn't add anything else.

“Friends would be great, Jay. And maybe…something else?” He heard his voice trembling slightly, full of hope, full of doubt. He couldn't tell why and how, but Jensen knew, this young man here, sitting upright in his small, old bed, had a lot to give and needed a lot to receive. Jared was a challenge, an adventure but most of all a human being who just needed and wanted to be loved. He was craving it, probably without even realizing it yet. And Jensen wanted to be the one to love Jared and to help him forgive himself and forget his past.

“You wouldn't,” Jared stammered, self-consciously looking down at his hands, pinching his fingers into the blanket, “want to be with someone like me.”

Jensen got up and once more sat down on the edge of Jared's bed, iron creaking beneath the additional weight. “Believe me, I would. There's nothing wrong with you. Ever since you came to see me you have proved that here,” Jensen reached out and touched Jared's chest, right where his heart lay, “is a real heart beating, that you are a much better, far more trustworthy person than you think you are. Maybe I'm naive, Jay, but I believe that no one is completely evil and you certainly aren't.” He smiled down at Jared  was still so much more interested in counting the dust particles than looking up. Jensen reached out, gently touching Jared's stubbled cheek, lifting it enough that he could look into those big hazel eyes that were treacherously wet. “You will always be my friend but I offer you a lot more here than only my friendship…my love, Jay. Are you ready to take it?”

It was so quiet between them that Jensen could hear both their breathing and his own heart beating nervously against his ribcage until eventually, Jared smiled, showing those gorgeous dimples, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I am ready. I'd be stupid not to.”

“Yeah, you would, Jay.” With these words, Jensen leaned in and enfolded Jared in his arms, just holding on to him carefully though tightly, giving him so much more love with one simple hug than Jared had ever received.

Eight

Never in his life had Jared been hugged like that, so sincere, so full of love and affection that it tightened his chest in a pain he had never felt before and that it warmed his heart more than any grog could. Jensen's embrace was warm and safe, and being held like that felt like coming home at long last, like finally anchoring in a haven he had been looking for all his life. Closing his eyes, Jared just listened to his and Jensen's breathing and felt the other man's, his partner's , heart beating against his own chest and right then, he could have stayed like that for the rest of his life.

Warm breath ghosted over his ears and kind words were whispered, Jensen's promises that he wouldn't regret it, that there was so much beauty and joy waiting for them. Jared, tough, cool, wayward Jared, heartless Jay the Butcher, held onto these words, hoping, praying that Jensen would be right, that he could fulfill the older man's expectations and become a good man after all. After long minutes, Jensen loosened his strong grip around Jared, pulling back enough so that he could kiss the younger man. It was only a chaste kiss, just a brush of lips against lips, but they were as soft as they seemed, and the warm connection was like a fire lit in Jared's heart, burning there for the rest of his life.

Jared trembled slightly, overwhelmed by emotions as he felt something he had never felt before, the most wonderful, precious feeling of all but at the same time remembered the last time he had been kissed, rough and painful. Jensen noticed it at once and broke the gentle connection. “It's okay, Jay. I can tell you are scared but that's nothing to be ashamed of. We'll take it nice and slow and if you are ready, you just tell me what bothers you, tell me who hurt you so much.”

Swallowing hard, Jared nodded. He wasn't even surprised that Jensen knew. Probably the scars covering his body told their own story and the rest was written in his eyes and features, in his posture and gestures. “Thanks, Jen.”

The other man snorted amused. “What did you call me? Jen?”

Shrugging, Jared asked, “Don't you like it? I know it's…girly, but I think it fits.”

“No, I like it just fine, Jay. You gave it to me, so there's nothing wrong with it.” Those green eyes flashed and Jared felt himself smiling.

Jared wanted nothing else than to be held again, wrapped in Jensen's arms, but he had never learned it, giving affection and receiving it in return. It was something so new, so strange that he didn't know how to ask for it or if he should just…do it. He hesitated, opening his mouth just to close it again, once or twice, before Jensen asked, “What is it, Jay? Anything you need?”

“Could you.” he murmured shyly, “maybe…” He just couldn't ask it, that was so…girly.

“What, Jay? Whatever it is, just ask, okay? If we want this to work, we have to be honest with the other, we have to trust each other. You know, I trust you, trusted you the second you laid your hands on my desk. Now, you just trust me.” He reached out and gently trailed his finger along the outline of Jared's high cheekbones. “So, what do you need, Jay?”

“Maybe, you could…hug me again? I've never…been held like that before, Jen and it felt…good.”

Jensen didn't laugh at him, just looked at him with those expressive jade eyes, and without breaking eye contact, he opened the ties of his boots and crawled onto the bed completely. “Will you let me under the covers?” he asked and Jared didn't hesitate, just lifted the thin blanket and as soon as Jensen had settled in, Jared felt himself being enveloped in those strong arms again. It felt even better than before, like Jensen would give him a bit of his humanity back, simply holding him like that, petting his thumb over a random part of his body.

“You know, Jay,” Jensen whispered, “Arthur, he was never really into cuddling. Thought it was inappropriate for a man of his status. I never agreed with him though, I always liked it, I think it's something very intimate.”

“I like it too, Jen.” Nuzzling even closer into the warmth Jensen provided, holding onto that firm body, Jared was gently caressed into sleep, for the first time in over a decade not being haunted by a horrible nightmare but dreaming about the things that could be, the future he and Jensen might have.

~*~

Waking was beautiful the next day. While Jared was normally woken up by the voice of his neighbors fighting, today there were fingertips ghosting over his skin and warm lips pressed against his forehead.

“Morning Jay,” Jensen murmured softly, “I'm sorry, but we have to get up. Danger or not, I need to change into something appropriate for the occasion and maybe have a bath and then we need to catch the one thirty train at Paddington.”

“Mmmm. Sure you still want to go through with your plan, Jen?”

The doctor nodded against Jared's forehead. “Yes. Need to do it that way, even though there are risks.” He sounded a little scared and Jared didn't blame him, not everyone was as cold as ice like him when it came to life-threatening situations. Not everyone had killed so often that he had lost count.

“I'll be there, Jen, take care of you.” Jared caught Jensen's lips in a short kiss, just to underline his statement before he got up. He still felt a little dizzy and weak on his legs, even after a day in bed but Jensen was next to him as soon as he saw his boyfriend staggering a little and steadied him.

“I'm okay, Jen,” Jared assured the other man and with a grateful little smile he turned towards a corner in his room, carefully replacing one of the wooden tiles in the floor, opening his weapon arsenal, knives of all kinds, guns and short ropes. He chose a knife and a revolver.

“Jen, do you have a gun of your own? You shouldn't go in there unarmed.”

Jensen swallowed but in the end, he nodded.

“Good.” Jared knew before they could go, Jensen had to know something else, something unpleasant, something about his murders. Even though he trusted Jensen, he wasn't sure how the doctor would react if he was about to find out that Jared was the cruel murderer papers and police were looking for again and again, the man who sometimes mutilated his victims. But Jensen had to know, they had agreed on being honest with each other.

Taking a deep breath, Jared sat down on the armchair. “Jen, before we go, there is something else you need to know about me. You…might change your opinion about me later but I still think you have the right to know.”

Looking a bit worried, the other man sat down on the bed, facing Jared, and with a simple nod told him that he was ready to listen.

“The man they sometimes look for in the papers, the man who is called monster and creature, the man who mutilates his victims so horribly that they are no longer recognizable, that man is me.”

Jensen's look changed, from neutral to horror-stricken. He took in a sharp breath and fought hard for his composure but nevertheless, Jared could see a slight tremble running through his body, could see the shock in the older man's eyes.

“I know it's no excuse but I…can't control it, Jensen. It has always happened when something goes wrong, when they fight or scream. It's as if I'm possessed by a wild animal or a demon, like I'm supplanted by a stranger in my own body. I justcan't control it. I see myself going berserk and there is nothing I can do to stop it and sometimes I don't even remember how I left the crime scene, I find myself somewhere in London with my clothes and hands bloody. I -”

“Stop it, Jay!” Jensen called out. “Don't tell me that you're a monster. You're not.” Jared could see how disturbed and shocked Jensen was but nevertheless he looked at him with affection. “Whatever happens, that person isn't you, Jay. I've seen you in the past days, held you last night, there wasn't anything brute in it. Just,” and now he almost whispered, “a young, vulnerable, hurting and scared man.”

Jensen got up and knelt down in front of the young man, taking his big hands in his owns, gently kneading Jared's long fingers. “I won't lie to you, Jared. It's horrible and shocking and a little part in me wants to run away as fast as he can when I think about how the Thompson killing was described.” Jared jerked, as if he had been hit. “But I won't, Jay. I won't leave you. Not now, not ever. Whatever it is that's happening when you kill, you're not responsible for it and maybe, when you tell me your story, we will find out.”

Breathing heavily, Jared couldn't believe his luck. How could Jensen be so kind to him? How could these green eyes still look at him so full of love? “But…what if I'm dangerous, Jen? What if I hurt you when we - ?” He felt himself blushing, thinking about making love with Jensen.

“You won't, Jay. I know you won't. I will never be scared of loving you, okay?”

Scared and unsure, hardly believing that Jensen wasn't pushing him away, Jared nodded.

Jensen opened his arms and he accepted the invitation, slid from the chair and found himself pulled against the other man's chest, Jensen just holding on for dear life, so tight, so loving and Jared knew that he would never run berserk again.

Nine

The morning had been eventless. The men had left the house, had taken a hansom to Jensen's place where the maids had prepared them a bath and breakfast and Jensen had written a short letter to his sister, asking her to come over the next day when he would give her the news about him going to America. Then Jensen had dressed very formally and his driver had taken them to the station where they had boarded their train.

Now, two hours later, they had arrived at their destination and Jensen had hired them a carriage to take them to Marshall Manor. He was nervous. Facing your ex-boyfriend with such accusations wasn't an easy thing to do and he was glad for Jared's presence, the young man becoming more quiet and withdrawn the closer they came. Their plan was simple. While Jared was waiting outside, in front of the window to the music room that Jensen wanted to use for the private conversation with Arthur and which he had told Jared how to find, Jensen would ask for an urgent meeting with Arthur, hoping that the older man would be too polite to refuse it, no matter what he had said in the past days.

“Here we are,” Jensen announced as Marshall Manor appeared behind a bend in the road. It was an impressive building, designed in the shape of an U, built with grayish bricks and surrounded by a huge park, dominated with majestic old trees, adorned with countless beds of roses. Jared whistled appreciatively.

“I know it looks great, Jay,” Jensen responded to his boyfriend's reaction. “But believe me, you wouldn't want to live here. Very cool in the winter and it costs a fortune to keep.” He didn't expect a reply and so he continued. “Like I said, the music room is down there,” he pointed to the left, “In the west wing, first rows of french windows, huge grand piano standing in the middle of the room. You can't miss it. Just stay outside on guard, okay?”

The younger man nodded in agreement and as soon as the coachman had halted the carriage, Jared jumped out, sneaking away from the main entrance. He strolled towards the room Jensen had described to him, looking not too suspicious in the expensive suit Jensen had lent him, while Jensen himself knocked on the door.

~*~

“I'm sorry, Sir,” Harkins, the butler, addressed Jensen. “Lord Marshall is not available.”

“Make him available. It's urgent.” He acted more confident than he felt but it was successful because Harkins let him in, guiding him to one of the two reception rooms though without offering him a drink before he fetched the Lord.

Jensen had expected that Arthur would let him wait for a while and sure enough, the man only appeared ten minutes later.

“What do you want, Jensen?” He spat out. “I told you not to come!”

“Good day to you, too, Arthur,” Jensen greeted the other man, tone overly friendly. “There's something I need to tell you and it bears no delay.”

Arthur sighed impatiently. “What could possibly be so important that it can't wait until next week, Jensen?”

Jensen didn't tell him, not yet. “Please, just ten minutes of your precious time. Let's go to the music room, it's quiet there.”

Giving in, the older man nodded and left the room. “Harkins,” he called his butler, “tell Paul to bring some refreshments to the music room.”

“So, what do you want, Jensen?” Arthur asked the moment he had closed the door of the music room. “What is so important to pull me out of a discussion with my friends?” He impatiently strolled through the room.

“Well, you know, Arthur, a couple of days ago I had a very interesting encounter. A young man sought me out in my practice and told me the most unbelievable story, that someone had offered him a lot of money to kill me.”

Arthur's face changed, from neutral - almost bored - to an expression that you could call worried. Though Jensen, who knew him quite well, noticed that it was panicked.

“You won't believe how surprised I was when I found out who wanted to see me dead.”

That was the moment when Paul, the servant entered, and without bothering Jensen kept on talking, while Arthur himself was too shocked to send the man away.

“Just because I refused to lend you more money and dared to express my suspicions that Melissa's death wasn't an accident. Which proves that it wasn't. I really can't decide which is worse. Killing your wife, or sending a hatchet man after your lover!” He spat it out, and while Arthur jerked at the accusation like he had been hit, Paul, professional or not, took in a shocked breath and stared at the two men.

“How dare you, Jensen! Lies! Just lies! I've never -” His voice cracked and Jensen used his chance.

“The only one who's lying here is you, Arthur. And I will do everything in my power to bring about your downfall, even if it means I have to go to prison, too!”

Breathing hard, Arthur's face meanwhile was red with wrath. “You wouldn't…succeed. No one would believe you, a simple medic.”

“Don't be so sure, Arthur. I have my evidence.” That was a straight lie but he had said it so convincingly that Arthur had to believe it and he did, color changing from red to pale in a glimpse of an eye.

“You wouldn't!” the outraged man screamed, lunging at Jensen, throwing him against one of the armchairs with all his strength so that Jensen tripped and fell hard onto the hardwood floor.

While Arthur towered over him, swinging his arm to beat the life out of his ex-partner, the glass of one of the french windows broke and, as that sound distracted Arthur for a second, Jared lunged at Arthur swift like the wind. Jared was a fantastic fighter, whirling around like a tornado, the knife in his hand barely to be seen as he cowered, moving back and forth, turning right around, escaping each of Arthur's punches. He grazed the older man's lower arm with his knife and a painful hiss escaped Arthur, making him even more furious. Laughing, Jared stepped back, but he was careless, stumbled over the carpet and fell, hitting shoulder and temple on the grand piano, losing his consciousness even before he hit the ground with a thundering thud.

“Jay!” Jensen screamed in horror as he saw his friend going down and Arthur grabbing Jared's knife swiftly, ready to strike, ready to kill. It seemed like it was in slow-motion, and suddenly Jensen remembered the gun Jared had insisted he took. The second Arthur lifted his arm, Jensen pulled the gun out of his trousers and to buy him a little more time, he screamed Arthur's name. The older man was stupid enough to react, to turn his head towards Jensen, only to stare into his ex-boyfriend's eyes and the barrel, only to hear the deafening sound when Jensen pulled the trigger, shooting right through Arthur's shoulder.

Shrieking, the man went down whimpering, touching his fractured, bleeding shoulder but Jensen didn't care. All he cared about was being at Jared's side, making sure that he was okay and so, he hurried over where his new boyfriend still lay unconscious on the soft carpet while his ex-boyfriend had crouched together next to him in the agonizing pain the wound caused. Quickly, Jensen felt for Jared's pulse, more than relieved when he found it, a bit fainter than usual, but still steady and while he told the petrified Paul to call the police his deft hands searched for wounds, finding none except the heavily bleeding laceration. “You'll be fine, Jay. It's nothing I can't fix.” He conjured up a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it tenderly against Jared's temple, stilling the bleeding. Only when that was done, did Jensen turn towards Arthur but one glance told him that he couldn't help him anymore, that he had hit an artery and that Arthur was bleeding his life out on his own carpet.

Feeling nothing, neither pain nor relief, he gave Jared his full attention again, luring him out of his unconsciousness and at exactly that moment Jared opened his eyes. Paul was back with Harkins and some other members of the household staff, carrying bandages.

“Lord Marshall is dead,” Jensen announced without a hint of regret in his voice and then he took care of Jared, taking him into his arms and gently placing him on the sofa.

“What happened?” Harkins stammered, shocked.

Jensen wanted to say something, but surprisingly Paul helped him out. “It was self-defense, I saw it. Lord Marshall and Dr. Ackles had an argument and the Lord attacked the doctor and suddenly this man,” he pointed towards Jared, “jumped into the room through the window and he attacked the Lord and then the Lord attacked the young man and Dr. Ackles shot because the Lord wanted to stab the other man.”

Relief washed over Jensen. He was unbelievably grateful that Paul hadn't said anything about the reason for their fight, and had given correct evidence.

“It was exactly like that,” Jensen confirmed, but then he turned his back to the men, carefully cleaning Jared's wound, dressing it and, without even thinking what the servants might think, cupped the younger man's hand with his own, murmuring comforting nothings while Jared glided in and out of consciousness until he finally fell asleep.

~*~

“So, there won't even be an inquiry?” Jensen asked the police officer surprised.

“No, there won't. Yours and Paul's evidence are enough and authentic, because they match to the last detail, even in little things. And honestly, Lord Marshall was known to have a temper. You and Mr. Winchester are free to go home.”

“Thank you, officer,” Jensen said gratefully, not believing his luck. He would have bet half his fortune that there would be a long inquiry when someone as important as Lord Marshall died under strange circumstances, but Inspector White had believed him at once, and so Jared and he could go. Harkins had offered them stay but Jensen had refused, not wanting to be under Arthur's roof longer than necessary and had decided to stay at the local inn instead. Hand strong on Jared's back, he lead his boyfriend, who was still looking pale, to the waiting hansom, taking Jared's cold, slightly trembling hand in his own as soon as they were in the safety of the carriage but couldn't wait to take Jared in his arms when they'd finally arrived at the inn. The ride was short and uneventful and the two rooms one of Arthur's servants had already reserved for the men were ready, a fire dancing happily in the hearth, chasing away the cold and darkness from outside and within the men's souls. Jensen didn't plan on staying a minute longer in his room than necessary and as soon as he heard the landlord's steps disappearing down the stairs, he hurried over to Jared's room, entering it after a curt knock.

Absentmindedly, Jared was staring into the flames, not even looking up when Jensen closed the door and approached him. Not even the gentle calling of Jared's name or the warm hand on his shoulder woke the younger man from his reverie.

“Jay,” breathed Jensen, “talk to me. What's wrong with you?”

It was like talking to a wall and even after a dozen or more tries, Jared didn't react. In the end, Jensen's gently spoken words faded away. Instead of talking, he sat down on the carpet next to the armchair Jared was sitting in, bearing the other man silent company, waiting until he was ready to speak. Watching the embers devouring the wood, the logs falling upon itself and the emitting sparks, Jensen waited, hoping that Jared would confide in him. When the fire had almost burned down, he did.

“You killed for me, Jen.” His voice trembled and without even looking up into his boyfriend's face, he knew that tears were glistening in Jared's eyes. “You told me you want to give life and not take it away and nevertheless…today you killed for me. You killed to save me.”

Jensen let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. “Honestly, I wish Arthur would have survived. But I don't regret shooting him, Jay, because it saved your life. It was either him or you and I didn't even hesitate a second when I pulled the trigger, Jay.” It was true because whatever Jared had done, his life was worth so much more than Arthur's.

“I never thought that someone would kill for me one day, Jensen,” Jared whispered. “It was always me…killing for people. First for my mom and sister, saving them from my dad. And then for Finn, because he forced me to. And in the last year…well, I sometimes did it for money, but more often for people because they just asked me to help them, but never has someone actually killed someone else for me. I'm not worth such a sacrifice, Jensen, losing a part of your soul.“

“My soul is still intact, Jared because I know, I didn't have a choice. Hitting the artery was an accident, Arthur could have survived otherwise. And you Jared,” and now he took the younger man's hand, twined his fingers with his own and guided it to his lips, “are worth everything.”

~*~That night the two men once more slept curled up together, Jared safely enfolded in Jensen's strong arms. While the injured man had fallen asleep as soon as Jensen had tugged him close and wrapped him in, Jensen's body warming him much more than the comforter, Jensen still lay awake for a long time, thinking about his new boyfriend. There was still a lot to learn, a lot to decipher until he could say that he knew Jared completely, but he was sure, in time, the younger man would confide in him. Today, Jared had at least mentioned a name, Finn, and Jensen was sure that this guy was the key to the young man's misery. He was sure, with love and trust but most of all with patience, Jared would tell him the last part of his tale one day and hopefully then he could bury his past.

Smiling confidently, Jensen kissed Jared's cheek and was finally dragged to the land of dreaming as well.

Ten

“You okay, Jen?” Jared asked shyly as his boyfriend returned into the library where he, Jensen and his siblings had spent the last few hours, talking and laughing.

Sighing, Jensen shook his head. “Not really, Jay. I just said goodbye to my siblings and it's likely that I will never see them again.”

He got up and, hesitating for a second, wrapped his arms around Jensen from behind, pulling the other man's back to his chest. “You shouldn't be so doubtful. Many things you would never believe possible are possible…Four weeks ago I was sitting in the ‘Scarborough Head’, getting the order to kill you. And look where I am now.”

“Here with me.” Jensen turned around in Jared's arm, catching the other man's lips in a lazy kiss. They still had a long way to go in their relationship, but their kisses had become more intimate, more passionate and Jared's lips lured sweet moans and sighs out of Jensen's throat, mingling with Jared's own so that in the end no one could tell where the sounds came from, they were just one melody, one love song.

“You're probably right,” the older man breathed into the kiss. “But I'll miss them and my nieces and nephews dearly.”

“I don't blame you, Jen. I miss my siblings, too.” Ever since he had found Jensen, experiencing something like being part of a family again, Jared had remembered his own family more often than in the past decade. His brother who had simply vanished, his baby sister, his mother. Even his dad, before desperation had driven him mad. “But you are my family now and I am yours.”

Jensen smiled. “That reminds me, I've got something for you.” To Jared's regret, Jensen disentangled from his strong grip, moving over to the desk and opening one of the drawers.

“You know, you'll need a passport tomorrow, it makes things easier.” He smiled knowingly, maybe even a little sassy.

He handed a document over to Jared and when he read the name written down there, he swallowed hard. “Ackles? You gave me your name?”

“Sure I did. You know, so we can tell everyone that we're brothers while in reality, we're lovers,” he breathed the last word out gently, almost conspiratorial.

Overwhelmed with his feelings, Jared didn't really know what to say. He couldn't believe what Jensen had done for him, couldn't say how much it meant to him, having a name, a family again, after he had forgotten his own family name a long time ago. “How?” he stammered, wanting to know how Jensen had done that.

“Well, let me just say, my love,” he chuckled, “You're not the only one with connections to the underworld,” Jensen revealed. “But really Jay, don't think about it any longer. The document is legit and that's all that counts.”

Jared felt tears welling up in his eyes, having been too close to tears too often for his own taste recently. “Thank you, Jen. For giving me a family.”

The older man's smile was warm and genuine, and wordlessly he enfolded his boyfriend in his arms, kissing him softly. Then, holding onto Jared's wrist, he tugged him out of the library, into the hallway. “Last night with solid ground beneath our feet, Jay. Let's not waste it.”

He led the way upstairs and laughing, Jared followed him into the main bedroom, glad that the house was empty, that all of Jensen's servants had been released, a very generous compensation in their pockets, most of them having already found new employment thanks to Jensen's siblings and a few of his friends.

Within a minute, Jensen had stripped off his simple clothes and had jumped onto the bed, bedstead creaking heavily, waiting for Jared to crawl in. He was still more shy than anybody would have believed, looking at the tough man who used to kill for money, but in the past two weeks, Jared had changed. He had gained a yet unknown faith and a self-confidence in doing something other than strangling and chopping.

Wearing nothing but his pants, Jared crawled in, not being self-conscious by his scarred body any longer. Jensen welcomed him, drawing the younger man into his arms, kissing the latest scar, still rosy, from the grazing shot Jared had sustained in the ‘Red Lion‘. Gently, Jensen trailed his lips over the other man's collarbone but when Jensen had arrived at the spot where his mouth normally lingered before he kissed Jared goodnight, Jared finally was ready for more.

“Don't, Jen. Don't stop,” he breathed out, slightly nervous but with a hint of longing in his voice.

“You sure?” Jensen asked, smiling at his boyfriend.

Jared shook his head. “Nah, not really. But…I think I will never really be ready, will always be scared. And I know I don't have to be scared any longer, so I think it's time.”

Those green eyes sparkled affectionately. “You don't have to be scared, believe me”. Trailing his lips further down, caressing every inch of Jared's skin, the scarred and the unharmed spots, gently, Jensen made his words true.

Never in his life had Jared believed that sex could be something so extraordinary, so beautiful, so intimate as lying with Jensen, being fondled and simply loved by that wonderful man. For long minutes, he worshiped Jared's torso, licked and kissed each and every scar, mumbling against his skin, asking each how it came into being. Jensen's teeth nibbled the skin on Jared's waist gently, his tongue, rosy and hungry, jerked in and out the hole of his bellybutton, and slowly, without Jared even realizing it, Jensen moved further south until finally, his hands had crawled beneath the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down in one deft move, revealing the last part of Jared's body the older man hadn't seen yet.

Half hard, Jared's manhood lay in front of Jensen, the only part of Jared's body that was unharmed because even Jared's thighs and calves were covered with scars. Finn had cut his way up and down Jared's body, only leaving his private parts out, because Finn had needed them intact.

What Jensen was doing now though didn't bear any resemblance to the rough, dirty, painful acts Finn had forced on Jared. Once more Jensen asked if Jared was sure, was fine with this, and an affirmative moan made Jensen do the most marvelous things with Jared's cock. Never had the young man been looked at like that, full of love, admiration and affection. Never had Jared felt a hand being so softly wrapped around his dick, Jensen's fingers so tenderly though still stimulating, massaging his balls. Lips and tongue and soft, warm breath ghosting over Jared's meanwhile full length, nibbling, licking and just caressing his impressive, pulsating cock, hungrily sucking in the first drops of come as if it was the most tasty treat. Jensen lured noises out of Jared, who hadn't believed that something like that was even possible. Noises so different from the terrifying groans he had called out in pain when Finn had raped him and the crazy laughs he had screamed out when he had been butchering his victims, noises begging and thrilling, full of the pleasure Jared felt, full of the love he was wrapped in.

When Jensen's hands weren't occupied by stroking Jared's hard, thick length, by teasing the head of his cock moistened with pre-come or gently caressing his balls, they were ghosting over groin and hip, fondling skin and scars until Jared grabbed one of Jensen's searching hands, linking it with his own, looking for another connection apart from his cock in his boyfriend's mouth. He felt an unbelievable heat in his body, devouring him from the inside like the fire devoured the log in the fireplace, as Jensen sucked the younger man to a frenzy never known before, to a passion so different from the one he had used to feel when he had taken lives, to a climax so blissful that Jared wondered how he could have ever been afraid of lovemaking when it was like that. He felt himself coming, screaming Jensen's name unusually high-pitched, feeling the older man swallow everything he could give, until Jensen's greedy tongue gently licked even the last drop from the head of Jared's cock.

Jensen's own dick was still painfully hard, stretching towards Jared, pointing at him, inviting him to manhandle it and, suddenly determined, Jared reached out, stroking it for what seemed too short a time. Quickly Jensen came, spilling loads and loads of come over Jared's hands. Wanting to taste Jensen like his lover had tasted him, Jared lifted his hand, hungrily licking the liquid off each finger, like a kid would lick melted chocolate or ice cream off his smeared hand. Each lick was accompanied by a moan full of want, of need, of lust and well-being. Finally, when Jared's hand was clean again, he caught Jensen's mouth with his own, tasting himself on Jensen and the other way round. Their hungry lips sucked at the other's, their tongues danced around, prodded, licked and jerked. The noises they breathed out ran up and down the tone ladder, from a deep groan to a high sigh within a second. It was intimate and loving and even as Jared was almost losing consciousness because of shortness of oxygen, he wished it'd never end. He wanted to be glued to Jensen like that for the rest of his life, wanted to feel himself wrapped into those warm arms, feel those gentle fingers everywhere forever.

It was Jensen who broke the kiss, panting hard, gasping for air but smiling against Jared's forehead when he tugged him closer, not wanting to lose the connection with him. Gently, he combed his fingers through Jared's hair, playing with the curls at his tips before they came to rest, warm and wide, on Jared's badly scarred back, caressing the mutilated skin. “Thanks for giving me that, Jay. For trusting me.”

Not having any words to express his feelings, his gratitude towards Jensen, Jared didn't say anything at all, just held on tight and slowly leaned back into the soft pillows, tugging Jensen with him. He let his face, his hands, his whole body talk for him, showing Jensen with every simple touch, with every smile and sigh how much he loved him, how much he trusted Jensen.

Eleven

The cold was cutting, prickling on the bare skin of his face and burning in his lungs as Jensen strolled over the slightly moving deck of the big passenger ship that would bring them to New York, their first destination of probably many on their journey to start their new life. Every one of the upper class passengers knew the two men as the Brothers Ackles, the doctor and his half-brother and assistant, who wanted to start a new life somewhere in the Wild West after their wives had both died a most gruesome death in childbirth. That at least was the story Jensen had told everybody who had asked, Jared mainly staying quiet because his slang would have given him away as a member of the lower class at once.

Jensen didn't mind that his boyfriend was uneducated, that he had grown up in horrible circumstances, that he had earned his living with one of the most despicable jobs ever. All he cared about was showing Jared day in, day out, how precious, how worthy he was, that he indeed was likable, kind and desirable, that he didn't have a heart made of stone but one of gold as he dug further and further each day, seeing Jared smiling more often than brooding.

This evening though, Jared had been withdrawn and after supper he had wordlessly left the table, only nodding once in a gesture of farewell before disappearing in the labyrinth of aisles of the big ship. As soon as it had been polite to leave, Jensen had excused himself, looking for Jared, neither finding him in their generous cabin nor in the gentlemen's club where Jared had won a good deal of money playing poker, something he was – not unsurprisingly – very good at. Searching the deck was Jensen's last real hope of finding his boyfriend because while the cold but bright November sun had been shining down on the ocean, Jared had spent many hours outside, staring out at the endless blue mass of waves, being lured into sleep by the soft rhythm of waves and the ships strong steam engine.

As cold as the night was, Jensen was granted a stunningly beautiful sight. Countless stars, formed into several constellations Jensen couldn't name, were sparkling brightly against the darkest sky the young man had ever seen, their silvery light being reflected in the ocean that seemed equally dark. The moon, only a thin band but still bright enough, illuminated the wooden planks, guiding Jensen's way towards the tall form standing at the railing, almost swallowed by the darkness.

For a while, Jensen didn't do anything but watch his boyfriend's frame from afar, wondering what Jared was pondering about and what the future might bring them, if it would be as bright as they dreamed, or dark, as Jared's past had been. Eventually though, Jensen quietly approached the silent, thoughtful man, standing next to him, not close enough that they touched but close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from Jared's body, caressing his own. Jensen thought about saying something, anything, asking Jared what he was brooding over, but in the end decided just to stand next to his partner, feeling the cold gust kissing his face, letting the endlessness, the majesty of the ocean sink in.

“I was fourteen,” Jared started suddenly, voice very quiet, almost inaudible against the rush of the wind and the breaking of the waves against the ship, “when Finn caught me. I wanted to leave, only wanted to land one more coup before I had enough money to go to America. I ended up robbing the wrong man. He was over forty…corpulent…I thought it would be easy. I hadn't expected this man to be the infamous Finn the Finger, the swiftest and most skilled pickpocket in his young years, the most important of the bosses of the underworld nowadays.” The younger man was breathing hard, not looking at Jensen but out into the ocean, face pale, expression lost, remembering the darkest time in his young life.

Jensen didn't dare to say anything, didn't dare to touch, almost didn't dare to breath. He just stood there, close to the man he loved, hoping that Jared was ready to confide everything today but also dreading to hear a truth that certainly would be painful and cruel in many aspects.

“For days, he locked me into a cold, moist, dark cell. There was nothing but the steady, tedious sound of water dropping against stone and of rats and bugs scurrying over the floor, often running over my bound legs, biting me. I was alone and I was sure I'd die down there, die of thirst. Finally, when I was completely dehydrated, my awareness so blurred that I started to have weird dreams and visions, Finn came. He had a cup of water, clear, fresh water and he pushed the cup against my lips, giving me a mouthful before he took it away. He offered me the whole cup if I'd do what he asked from me and that second I'd have done anything. I agreed and he … made me suck him. Only when he was gone, leaving me the water as promised, did I notice what I had done. I felt dirty, thought that it'd have been better not to accept the offer, better to die before doing something as disturbing as that. But I did it, pleased him, again and again, whenever Finn came with food or water.” Jared paused, ran his hand through his hair, collecting his thoughts, obviously struggling with all the emotions and memories that hit him now as he finally revealed what had happened to him. “The longer I was down there, the more often he came without food or water, but just…to torture me. He loved that. He loved hearing me squeal like a pig when he cut my skin with his long knife, just for the fun of it. He loved listening to my pleas when I couldn't bear the pain any longer, begging him to let go. And the sound of his whip against my skin made him laugh brightly, made him happy like nothing else. After the torture he normally raped me. I can't exactly tell because sometimes I lost consciousness and when I woke up my body hurt everywhere. Finn, he had his methods to keep me awake. He,” Jared swallowed hard, “forced himself inside me unprepared, rough and crude or penetrated me with the weirdest objects. He made me say stupid little phrases again and again and when I only wanted to take a deep breath, wetting my lips, he hit me hard, made me pay. He made me pay for everything.” Close to tears now, Jared continued. “Back then, I couldn't tell for how long he kept me down there, but it was November when he caught me and summer when I saw the sun again and it was only when I laid eyes on a paper that I realized that he'd held me captive for almost two years. I…was broken,” Jared admitted with a shattered, thin voice. “He had taken away everything, the little pride, the little self-confidence I had. I was nothing, less than nothing, vermin. I was only still walking the Earth because Finn had let me. He told me again and again, made me repeat it even more often and yes, when he let me out at long last, I believed him. I was Finn's puppet.” A shaking hand moved over Jared's face, covering his mouth for a bit, before he continued his dark tale. “First he sent me on little raids and it never occurred to me once to leave and simply run away. I could have, but I didn´t, too scared that wherever I would go, Finn and his huge circle of accomplices and gang members would find me, would kill me,” Jared sighed. “I proved myself worthy and after a while, whenever Finn didn't keep me as his catamite, he sent me out to do the real dirty work for him, killing people. I never dared to disagree, I never dared to fail, always succeeded, no matter how hard it was. The third time, something went wrong…it was the first time I went crazy and mutilated the victim so much that no one was able to identify the corpse when I was finished. Finn was proud of me.” Jared laughed, but there wasn't any joy in it, only pain. The young man's face was a grotesque mask of self-loathing, almost like a demon's grimace in the starlight, unearthly and eerie. “I worked for Finn for years, killing, stealing, kidnapping…kids like me, kids he tortured in the same cell like he had tortured me and sometimes, he even forced me to assist, to cut, to slap. Looking back, that was the worst, the most unforgivable thing I did. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, luring children away from their poor families, promising them a better future, only to lock them up…most of them didn't survive it and the ones who did were as broken as I.”

Feeling his heart tightening and unbelievably heavy, Jensen didn't know what to say. That was something Jared hadn't told him yet and a part of Jensen wished he never had known, wondering a very long second if he could still love Jared now he knew what he had done, betraying innocent kids like that. But the wiser, the stronger part in Jensen knew that man hadn't really been Jared but a man without a soul, so broken and scarred, a man with a fate so terrible that it made Jensen's eyes swim with tears.

“Although Finn always had other lovers, he preferred me. He literally fucked me senseless, hurting me again and again. No matter how often he did it, it always hurt. One night, it was only about eighteen months ago, he made me have dinner with him, in the dining room of his town house, because I fulfilled a double murder to his satisfaction. After dessert he wanted another dessert…me. From being unusually kind from one second he was rough the next, tossing me onto the dining table, towering above me, opening his pants, ordering me to open mine. I was halfway through when I saw a knife lying on the table and without really thinking about it, I took it, driving it deep into Finn's side. Again and again and again. I lost count of how often I stabbed Finn but even when he was dead, even when his blood had formed a huge puddle on the floor, I kept on, carving skin and flesh and bone, ripping him apart. I ran riot, not really knowing what I was doing, though a part of me still remembers it…still remembers how I fed bits of his body to his two huge, hungry dogs, how I burned his heart in the hearth, how I buried the rest in his backyard. The only thing I left was his finger.”

Sickness welled up inside Jensen and he couldn't tell if it was only because of the brutality his boyfriend had shown or also because he suddenly was scared of Jared again.

“Everyone knew it had been me but no one cared. Finn was hated, even within his gang, they were all glad, grateful even, that he was gone and treated me with respect when they saw me. Behind my back, though, they called me a monster and I knew I was one, a demon, everything but human because who could possibly do something like that, Jensen? I…I was disgusted with myself, still am, and I know, I should have run away but I didn't, kept on doing what I was doing until you came into my life.” Jared said nothing else and was as silent as in the moment Jensen had joined him, staring at the swirling, thunderous ocean, face almost as emotionless as before but for the tears shining in his eyes, the sign that Jared wasn't the monster he still believed himself to be. A part of him, long buried, had surfaced since he had laid eyes on Jensen. Finally Jared knew what was right and wrong, finally he could feel pain, fear and regret and he was human after all.

When Jared had killed Finn so bestially, he had reached a dead end in his life, without finding another way out than perpetrating that horrible crime. He had been mistreated, had been desperate and hurting and to a certain degree, Jensen could understand Jared. The older man couldn't conceal his emotions as well as his boyfriend, shivering, not only because of the cold but mainly because of the anger at Finn and the shock, hearing about what Jared had been going through, and knowing the truth about what he had done. Jensen swallowed hard, thinking about something, anything he could tell the young man to make it easier, for both of them. He couldn't come up with a single word and so, for a long time, Jensen just stood close to Jared, keeping him company, not leaving, not running away. “Let's go to bed, Jay,” he murmured after a while and without looking back, he turned around, Jared's step clattering over the planks a sure sign that he was following him.

~*~

That night, Jensen waited in vain for Jared to crawl into his bed, the young man having left for his own room in their cabin. For a long time, Jensen lay awake, staring at the dark wooden ceiling, hoping the soft cradle of the waves would lure him to sleep but instead he heard Jared's story again and again. When he closed his eyes, he saw the boy Jared had been being tortured, being raped and being mistreated in the most cruel ways. He saw Finn taking Jared's pride and strength away down to the last pore, making Jared do what he wanted, making him Jared's master. And in flashes, he saw Jared mutilating Finn's dead body, taking revenge on his torturer's corpse, chopping him into such small pieces that he could feed his remains to the dogs. It was cruel, worse than that, but a surprisingly big part of Jensen understood, knowing that Jared hadn't hurt Finn, that the man had been dead already, that his soul had been burning in Hell the second he had breathed his life out. Realizing that, Jensen realized something else. It didn't change anything. Jensen had known that Jared had a dark past, had done terrible things, had known a few, had imagined a few more. Knowing his last, his darkest secret didn't change the fact that Jensen still loved the guy and always would. He was still the same, hurting young man, struggling with his conscience, praying for forgiveness each night in bed when Jared believed Jensen to be sleeping already, asking for absolution Jensen knew Jared would never get before he could move on, forgive himself and let the past be buried in the past. He could only contribute little somethings, kind words, his faith and his love, emotions he still felt towards Jared.

Slowly, Jensen got up and, sinking into the soft carpet underneath his bare feet, he moved over into Jared's part of the cabin. He couldn't tell if the man was asleep or not, because the small room was dark save for the faint grayness that fell through the scuttle, barely illuminating Jared's features. His eyes were shut and Jared looked vulnerable, though his face wasn't relaxed but once more a grimace of pain, cheeks flushed so that Jensen knew that he had been crying. He crawled onto the small bed, slipping beneath the covers and drew Jared close. The younger man breathed out in surprise, a sure sign that he hadn't been fast asleep yet, murmuring something inaudible against Jensen's neck, maybe a question why Jensen was there, how he could possibly still love him.

“It doesn't change anything, Jay,” Jensen whispered softly, “You are still you, the man I fell in love with, the man who I am in love with. Finn was a cruel man, hurting you so badly, for such a long time. Now, let me fix it, okay? Let me love you and show you how precious you are, let me bring out the best in you after Finn had brought out the worst. And I bet there are so many more beautiful qualities inside you than bad.” Keeping on murmuring soft sweet nothings, reassurances that Jared by far wasn't the monster he believed to be, Jensen cradled his boyfriend to sleep with the help of the steady rhythm of the ocean, waves and words washing away doubt and hate.

Epilogue

They were lying under an old, majestic oak, the endless width of the sky seeping through the thick, strong branches. The rustling canopy of leaves above them was sprinkled with thousands of bright stars in an inky background, just like Jensen's countless freckles were sprinkled over his fair skin. The land the oak was standing on was theirs, several acres of rich farmland, removed, quiet and scenic, so beautiful that Jared still was stunned each time he let his eyes wander over it.

In a few days the land would be buzzing with the noises of a dozen men, young guys Jensen had hired in the nearby town, eager to earn a few dollars and help them build what made the land theirs once and for all, their home. Ever since Jared and Jensen had arrived in New York, Jared was longing for a place to call theirs, dreaming of coziness and warmth, of rooms where he could be with Jensen, where he could love and worship him. Having finally found the perfect place overwhelmed him with joy.

That night, though, there was no sign of the beehive the meadow would soon be and Jared knew he and Jensen were the only living souls within many miles. It was so quiet that they could very well be the only human beings in the whole wide world. There was just the soft gurgle of the creek nearby, water washing over stones and roots, the occasional snort of their horses, the chirr of the many crickets in the long grass and the hoot of some night bird before it spread its wings and flew away, searching for prey.

It was mild and they had lit the fire not mainly for warmth but for a dim light and atmosphere as both men had snuggled close on an old patchwork quilt Jensen's nanny had made when he had been a little boy, naked bodies covered by a light blanket. Jensen had wrapped Jared into his arms, absently caressing his boyfriend's skin, massaging his neck, occasionally kissing a random spot on Jared's relaxed face.

The change Jared had gone through ever since he had been with Jensen was overwhelming. It had been a lot, hard work but after countless hours of just listening to his hurting boyfriend, and almost as much giving advice, after streams of tears Jared had cried, he was a new, better man. Nowadays, Jared only bore a slight resemblance to the young, gangly man he had been, having put on weight and muscles, a healthy tan and most of all, gaining a self-confidence and faith that not only was Jensen bursting with joy and pride about, but Jared himself was more than satisfied with too. He could never revive the dozens of men he had killed but with assisting Jensen in the practice the older man had opened only recently, Jared finally was helping people and it gave him a joy he'd never believed could be possible.

As Jared was lying there, encased by Jensen's warmth and love, he knew that he owed everything to the man next to him, to his Jensen and that whatever he was doing, it wouldn't be enough to give all of Jensen's love and support back. All he had, all he was, it was because of Jensen and his heart swelled to the point of bursting when Jared just thought about it, Jensen's kindness and beauty. “I love you, Jen,” Jared whispered against Jensen's chest, telling it not only to Jensen but to his heart, kissing the spot where the steady boom boom boom was hammering against his ear.

“Mmmmm,” Jensen sighed. “You wouldn't mind showing me, would you?“ He chuckled against Jared's hair, knowing exactly that Jared wouldn't mind at all. That was something Jensen had taught the younger man as well, the beauty of sex, that it was so much more than simply pleasing one another but literally lovemaking, intimate, special and extraordinary every time they united their bodies.

Instead of his voice, Jared let speak his lips, his tongue and his fingers, first slowly, then quicker, brushing, licking, nibbling and touching over skin in a greedy though still gentle foreplay. He took particular care of Jensen's nipples, caressing the brown skin around it with the tip of his tongue, luring stimulating moans out of Jensen's throat before in the end he caught the nipple between his lips, sucking there as hungrily like a new born baby would suck in mother's milk, biting gently, just teasing the soft flesh, feeling joy and pleasure with each of Jensen's aroused moans. Knowing that this alone had been enough to make his lover half hard, Jared eagerly moved south, stopping for a while at the older man's navel, tickling him with a hungry tongue that jerked in and out and fingers that only ghosted slightly but effectively over Jensen's waist, a mixture of sighs and giggles being puffed out.

Jared already felt Jensen's steadily growing cock pressed against his chest and the way it jerked against his skin turned Jared on, wanting nothing else than to feel it against his lips, see Jensen's full length bursting while he himself came deeply buried into his boyfriend. So, he moved those remaining inches down, cupping Jensen's erect cock in his hands, full lips handling it exactly how Jensen enjoyed it the most, rubbing here and kissing there, sucking and licking drops of pre-come thirstily into his mouth, though not letting the older man reach his climax. Jared let go, laughing at his boyfriend's pleading tone and turned his full attention towards the tight ring of muscles that was now his goal.

Grabbing the small pot of grease Jensen had laid in the grass beside them, Jared dipped his finger into it, moving it in a wide circle around Jensen's entrance, the older man's legs meanwhile spread wide invitingly. The closer Jared got, the louder Jensen took in his breath in small, sharp gasps, and when Jared finally penetrated, there was an expectant, thrilling fizzling replaced by a deeper moan. Tight, slick and warm was how Jensen felt around Jared's finger and with each moan the older man let out, Jared buried his long, slim index a bit deeper, rubbed and touched until he had found the nerves he had been looking for, stimulating Jensen so much that his screams echoed through the night.

Wanting nothing more than to listen to these sounds, these pleas, these declarations of love for the rest of his life, Jared took his middle finger to help the index, widening the fleshy canal, receiving even more beautiful noises in return, even the curses Jensen spit out sounding gentle. Laughing, Jared finally took mercy on him, removing his fingers, penetrating Jensen at long last with his swollen dick. It was so unbelievably tight and hot that Jared couldn't help but take in a sharp, hurting breath but the next second, the feeling of being captured ceased, being replaced by the blissful, pleasant slight ache of being connected with Jensen. Jared's heart swelled with love and so many endorphins that he could have hugged the whole world. Slowly and gently, Jared moved forward, burying himself deeper and deeper into Jensen, his one hand resting warm and wide on Jensen's hip, the other hand holding, almost crushing Jensen's. The second he slowly retreated, he felt Jensen losing it at long last, but he himself wasn't ready to come yet, still having a lot of work to do. So, while Jensen was breathing hard, he rode him, moving with him in the rhythm of his breathing until eventually, moans and groans and sighs drowning all other sounds of nature, ended in a long, almost otherworldly cry of both men when Jared finally came.

Gasping hard for oxygen, Jared carefully slid out of Jensen and breathing as hard as if he had run a marathon, he crawled back into his boyfriend's arms. Covered in sweat, the mild summer breeze seemed suddenly chilly and he shivered slightly, not even the heat radiating off Jensen's body warm enough. But as always, the older man took good care of Jared, not only wrapping him into his arms, almost burying Jared's tall body beneath him, but also tugging the blanket around them tightly.

Slowly, both men regained their breath and calmed down, now only enjoying the simpler but still equally wonderful connection of bodies pressed together from head to toe, of limbs mingled and fingers twined.

“Love you, too,” Jensen said, referring to Jared's declaration minutes earlier and like all the many times before, the warmest, happiest sensations of all washed over the young man, not only hearing it but knowing that it was true as well

Sighing contently, Jared cuddled even closer, holding onto Jensen even tighter, drinking from his warmth, feeling his love in every inch of his body. This man had given him everything: a home, a future, a second chance, but most of all the knowledge that even within the hardest rock lay hidden a heart of gold and that Jared, who had finally loved and given love in return, was a good man after all.

The End