Chapter Text
(One more taste of your lips just to bring me back
To the places we've been and the nights we've had
Because if this is it then at least we could end it right)
It had been two days since Jared had left. Two days since Jared had kissed him hard and bruising for the last time, then walked out the hotel room with a smile and a wave.
Two days and now Jensen was staring at the news channel playing on the hotel TV, the reporter standing in front of a burning manor and talking about how there were no survivors from the bomb explosion, that the authorities were yet to comment on the identities of the bodies or the person responsible.
Two days and Jensen only now realized just how small Jared’s smile had been. His last smile for Jensen.
Maybe he’s okay, he thought, almost numb as he kept staring at the live footage of Azazel’s burnt down manor. Maybe he got out. He’ll call me. Any moment now.
“You saw the news this morning?”
Jensen kept his gaze steady as he nodded. His phone hadn’t rung with anyone’s call except Morgan, summoning him here to a small office, and he’d braced himself for any kind of news before entering. It wouldn’t do to have any kind of a breakdown here, in front of his boss. And besides…
Jared was okay. Jared was fine, he was safe, he just hadn’t gotten the chance to call him yet to let him know.
Morgan sat down on the desk. “We don’t know who did it yet,” he said. “But it had to be someone with a personal vendetta against Azazel. No one would attempt something this risky for just business reasons.”
Jensen nodded along, forcing himself to pay attention. “Berens is the likeliest, right? Expertise in explosives, works for Singer- he’ll have pinned his wife’s death on Azazel…”
“No, Berens was in Rio as of three days ago,” Morgan said. “And Singer might have the motivation, but he wouldn’t give this job to anyone other than Berens.” He frowned, going through some file. “My guess would be someone closer to Azazel himself.”
Jensen blinked, everything slowing down for him. “But…”
Jared’s words echoed in his ears: Berens- the bomb maker- has been spotted around town. Azazel thinks Singer might have linked his wife's death to us.
“Have any of the bodies been identified, sir?” His voice sounded far-off to his own ears, like he was hearing someone else saying them from a great distance.
Jared was okay. He was fine. He was safe.
“A few,” Morgan admitted. “We’re not releasing them to the public.”
“Who?”
He was safe. He’d call soon. He’d laugh and cry a little and he’d be safe and Jensen would tell him that he-
Morgan read out names from the file in his hand. “Omundson. Armstrong. Murray. Harris. Padalecki. The rest of the bodies are beyond…”
The world stopped turning, everything dropping away into dead silence, vision fizzing out like white noise. The tiny lump of desperate hope in Jensen’s chest, only a few hours old, imploded quietly, a silent death in the confines of his heart.
“Jensen.”
The sound of his first name made him blink back to reality. His boss was peering at him with an expression that could almost be called concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered automatically. His eyes burned for a moment, and he dug his nails into his palm to clear away the tears.
Morgan looked at him closely for a few moments more, with a perfect poker place. Then he sighed, almost regretfully, and looked back down at the file. “We were able to pull some dental records from the ID'd bodies. Came up with a bunch of alibis for each.” He scribbled out a small address. “I’ve got Cohen and Smith looking into most of them, but Padalecki had one small apartment in Texas. It’s only about three hours from your home, I believe, and pretty removed from all the other ones, so it’ll be out of the way for my agents. You mind taking a look around there for me, see if there’s anything we should have or know about?”
Jared’s safehouse, he realized numbly. “Yes, sir.”
Morgan nodded. “Alright, then, that’s it. Take care of that stab wound, Ackles.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jensen turned back almost three times on the way to the safehouse. It was tempting to call his boss and say “No. No, I can’t do this.”
But it was equally tempting to knock on that door, allow himself the foolish hope once more than Jared would answer with his usual grin.
Except none of that happened and Jensen stepped into a cold, empty apartment.
It was just a safehouse, he reasoned. There was never anything personal here, nothing that was a part of Jared’s life in any way. And yet, Jensen could swear the small couch was permeated with the scent of Jared’s shampoo, and he curled shaking fingers into the ratty afghan, draping it over himself as he lay down.
His mind wouldn’t stop thinking, trying to connect the dots.
Berens- the bomb maker- has been spotted around town. Well, that part had been a total fucking lie, apparently. Berens was all the way in Rio, according to Morgan’s intel. So why had Azazel called Jared back? Unless… He hadn't. Maybe Jared had gone back himself.
My guess would be someone closer to Azazel himself. The only people ‘close’ enough to Azazel to do something like this were his inner circle of killers- Jared, Murray, and Harris. But all three of them were dead. And Jared wouldn’t have killed himself over this, not when he’d promised to return.
If it means keeping you safe… I’ll do my best to keep him distracted from you… There was a sick pit in Jensen’s stomach as he reached the only conclusion he could see. No way of knowing how likely it was, how accurate or how far off from the truth. But it settled under his skin and it was the only answer he could think of.
It didn’t matter who’d triggered the bomb. Or who’d paid for it to happen. But Jared had only gone back to Azazel to get him off of Jensen’s trail. To keep Jensen safe.
A harsh sob broke out, his chest tight like it was crumpling into itself. He pulled the afghan over his head, blocking out the sparse light, and cried himself to sleep, wishing he had something- anything, just one thing- to keep and remember Jared by.
Jeffery Dean Morgan wasn’t usually a nervous man. Right now, as he made his way to the guarded room that held one famous, reportedly upset, and extremely dangerous killer, he decided it was okay to be a little unsettled.
He’d been tracking Jared Padalecki for years, ever since he’d found out the kid was still alive and well and in Azazel's employment of all things. Part of it had been guilt- the kid’s parents had been killed because they’d agreed to help Jeffery in exchange for protection, and Jeff hadn’t done his job right. The other part of it had just been that he was desperate to see Azazel wiped out as a threat, and he thought that if he could get the kid to follow in his parents’ footsteps…
He nodded at the two guards in greeting, showing them his badge and stepping in.
Padalecki- very much not a kid anymore; 29 years old and more than capable of taking down Jeff’s best agents- was standing at the window, looking out with the line of his shoulders tense and impatient.
He turned to Jeff with a scowl. “It’s been a week. Why haven’t you let me go yet?”
“Why don’t you sit down?”
The scowl deepened, highlighting the black eye and split lip he'd gotten a few days ago, courtesy of the agents who'd caught him and delayed him long enough for Morgan to get there. The agents were worse off from the encounter.
“Stop trying to placate me," Padalecki snapped. "I did exactly what you asked of me. It’s time you held up your end of the deal.”
Help me bring Azazel down and I’ll make sure you’re protected- it was the same deal Jeff had given his parents.
Padalecki’s own stipulation? I get to stay with Jensen.
Jeff hadn’t seen reason to disagree. But now…
“Please sit down,” he said again, taking the couch.
There must have been something in his tone because Padalecki’s face smoothed out into a perfect mask and he dropped into the armchair. “Talk.”
He took a deep breath. “Murray and Harris have left, right? You can’t track them down?”
Padalecki’s eyes narrowed. “Yes and no. I wouldn’t track them down even if I could.”
Fair enough. Padalecki had bargained for the safety of two of his friends as well, and that Jeff had agreed to more reluctantly, under the condition that neither of them ever returned to the States and that they wouldn’t be under government protection.
Next question, then. “Are you sure everyone was in the manor when you triggered the bomb?”
Padalecki blinked, a little frown marring his features. “Yes,” he said firmly. “All of Azazel's closest, his favorites, his pets, his proteges. The ones who were too much like him. Basically all the names you gave me on that list- I made sure they were all inside before blowing the place up.”
34 people. Padalecki didn’t show an ounce of regret for killing them all in one fell swoop. Well… Almost all.
“There was one body less than there should have been,” Jeff said quietly.
Something on Padalecki’s face seemed to crumble. “No,” he muttered.
“No sure-fire way of identifying, but bets are on Azazel being the missing one,” Jeff went on.
“He can’t have.”
“I had a team of agents set up a perimeter to keep an eye on the house. Two of them were found dead.”
“Azazel never got his hands dirty!” Padalecki insisted.
“I know,” Jeff murmured.
All the colour drained out of the boy’s face. “You think it was me?”
“No!” He hurried to assure. “No, you’re practically the one person I’m absolutely sure of. But…” He took a deep breath. “Do you know what Murray and Harris had to lose? What- or who- it was that Azazel held over their heads as a threat?”
Padalecki shook his head. “It was the one thing we never told each other. We didn’t like talking about it, and… It felt sacred. Something to keep separate from that life.”
He sighed. “Jared, kid… For all you know, either Murray or Harris could have had more at stake if Azazel was killed. Either of one them could have tipped him off. They were the only ones who knew about the plan.”
Jared stared at the floor. “But… They wouldn’t... I mean…” He closed his eyes, like he was steadying himself. “I can’t find them. We did set up a way to communicate, if we ever needed help, but…”
“But no one will answer it,” Jeff finished for him. “So soon after everything, they’ll know it’s supposed to be some kind of trap.”
Jared nodded, blinking fast. “I can’t go to Jensen, can I?”
“No, you can’t,” he agreed. “Azazel will be looking for you. It’ll take him time, alone and cutoff from everything. But he’ll come. You need to be gone as soon as you can.”
“Can’t Jensen come with me?” Jared asked. “He… He said he would…”
“Jensen Ackles is one of our best,” he reminded. “You really think he doesn’t have his own enemies? Enemies who Azazel would exploit? You’re safer apart, Jared, and you know it. He’s safer away from you.”
Jared swallowed. “At least, let me say goodbye to him.”
Jeff didn’t think he could ever have imagined a trained assassin pleading with him for a chance at farewell. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet. “But I’ve already told him that… That you’re dead.”
The pleading look was wiped away by shocked anger. “You what?”
“He’s alright!” Jeff placated. “Or… Well, he’ll be alright. But you know this is better in the long run. A clean break. At least this way he can move on, rather than, I don’t know, pine for you, or wait for the day it’ll be safe for him to be with you.”
“You didn’t have the right to make that choice!” Jared snapped at him.
“Maybe not,” Jeff agreed. “But it’s what’s best. And it’s done.” Truth be told, he had no idea how deep the bond between Ackles and Padalecki ran, or how it had even begun. The assassin had been less than forthcoming and Jeff knew that asking Ackles would be too incriminating.
Meanwhile, Jared seemed to give up, the fight leaving him. “Where am I supposed to go?” He mumbled, suddenly looking very small and not anything like a killer- just a boy who’d lost too much too soon.
Jeff hated the sense of responsibility he felt for that loss. “Same place we’re sending your sister- Vancouver,” he said, hoping the freedom and safety would be enough to help the kid live his life. “A guy named Keegan Allen is gonna be here tomorrow. He’ll help you set everything up for yourself and your sister- new identities, legal documents- and a woman named Julie McNiven in Vancouver will be your direct line of contact with me, if you ever need it. Your finances have already been transferred and all traces erased.”
Jared nodded along, a dazed look on his face. “So this is it. I’m… It’s done.”
“It’s done,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” Jared mumbled. He swallowed, looking out the window, and Jeff dropped his gaze when he realized the kid had tears in his eyes- not all of them were of relief.
“Your tickets will be booked for this weekend, after you’ve got your new identities,” Jeff spoke again after a moment.
“Yeah.” Jared cleared his throat. “Alright, yes.” His voice was hoarse, but strong.
Jeff stood. “You’ll be okay, kid.”
He shook Jeff’s offered hand with a tired look. “Thank you.”
Jeff hesitated, then added, “Ackles will be alright too.”
To his surprise, Jared gave a sad, bitter smile. “Yeah. I know he will.”