Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Jensen, come on, babe, wake up." Jared gently shook Jensen's shoulder.

Jensen's breathing was shallow, and he was drenched in sweat.

"Please wake up," Jared whispered frantically. Jared needed him to open his eyes. Like air.

Jensen's IV display blinked, the heart monitors beeped, and Jared kept his breathing timed with his.

Doctor Collins came in to check for progress and note Jensen's vitals. "I know you don't want to hear this, but he's getting worse. I thought he'd wake up within a few hours, but more symptoms are appearing."

"He'll pull through. Once she's dead he'll be fine."

The doctor placed a gentle hand on Jared's shoulder. "You have to find her before it's too late. Jensen's spiraling downhill fast, and unless she breaks the connection, it's possible that he could go with her."

"How can that be? It doesn't work that way. This is an empathic connection, not a physical one. Let her die. Let her rot for all I care. This will all be a bad dream once she's in hell."

"That's how we think it works, but we don't exactly know what happens when an empath dies during an empathic connection. This is uncharted territory. We can't say anything with certainty."

Misha looked down at Jensen. "Does this look empathic to you? Does this look like a mere connection of energies and not one of physical life forces? Jensen's muscles are weakening, his breathing is labored and his heart is working overtime."

"Jared," Collins gentled his voice. "He's dying. You need to get to work and find a way to break their connection."

Jared squeezed Jensen's hand harder, whispering in his ear, "It's all going to be over soon. We're going home and then we're going on a long vacation. Just the two of us at the beach, listening to the steel drums, and drinking out of hollowed-out pineapples. Please hang on, love, hang on."

"Come on, Jen, honey. Play patty-cake with Abby. Babies like that. You liked to play patty-cake when you were little."

"I don't wanna. I'm not a baby now."

"No, but your sister is and she likes it when her big brother plays with her."

Jensen shook his head so hard, his blond bangs swished in front of his eyes. "Sometimes she likes it but not now."

"No, sweetheart," mommy said, bouncing baby Abby up and down. "She's sad because you stopped playing with her."

Jensen's baby sister was crying so hard in mommy's arms. Mommy kept bouncing her up and down, telling her "Shush, honey, shush," but that didn't make her stop. Jensen knew that Abby wasn't sad, she was mad. Mad and, and, something else.

"Come on try, Jensen, maybe you can get her to stop crying." Mommy sounded tired and like she was going to cry. "Play something with her or give her your fingers. She likes to chew on your fingers."

Jensen's mommy said that it made the baby's mouth feel good to bite on his fingers, especially since Jensen's small fingers went all the way to the back where her teeth would be some day.

He didn't like getting his fingers all slimy with baby spit, but his mother said so. Mommy jiggled the baby on her lap, sitting her close enough for Jensen to put his fingers into Abby's mouth. Abby still cried, but she chewed down on the tip of his pointer finger. Suddenly, Jensen felt the overwhelming urge to scratch. To scratch his butt. But his butt wasn't itchy. Was it?

Well, something felt itchy. So he kept his fingers on Abby's gums and used his other hand to scratch his left butt cheek. He scratched and scratched and he stared at Abby until his eyebrows furrowed. Abby wiggled and wiggled until her butt rubbed against mommy's arms. And the more Abby rubbed, the more Jensen scratched.

"Mommy?"

"That's good Jen, honey, she's calming down."

"I don't think it's her teeth hurting." Jensen scratched the insides of his legs.

"That's because you are a good big brother and you're making her teeth feel all better."

Abby reared up and away from Jensen's fingers and wailed at the ceiling.

Mommy shook Jensen's shoulder hard and swung Abby up into her lap. "What happened? Did you poke her tongue?"

"No, mommy, no."

"Please, Abby, shh, shhh, baby." There were tears in Jensen's mother's eyes as she rocked his sister back and forth. "Please, please, Abby."

"Mommy, it's not her teeth making her cry, it's her butt."

Mommy breathed in big and deep, "Jensen, Abby has a rash, but we put medicine on in and it's getting better."

"No, no, it's making her itch. And the itching is making her really, really mad."

Abby screamed so loud that Jensen covered his ears.

"All right! All right!" She picked Abby up over her shoulder and walked out.

Jensen followed them into the bathroom, watching as mommy put cool water into the little blue baby bathtub. When she took Abby's diaper off, mommy made a "Sssss" sound with her teeth.

"Her little backside is all red and irritated."

"Not irrterated, mommy, itchy," Jensen said, indignantly pointing at his own backside.

Abby was crying so hard she was hiccupping, but as soon as her bottom came in contact with the cool water, Abby clamped her mouth shut and opened her eyes wide.

"Is that better, baby?" Mommy swished water in between her legs and all over her bottom. "Is this making you feel better, huh, sweet girl?"

Jensen rinsed his fingers in the cool bathtub water and stuck them in Abby's mouth before Mommy could stop him.

Abby gnawed down on Jensen's fingers, but all he could feel was…better. No itchy, no mad. He took his fingers out. "She's better now."

And that was how Jensen discovered he was an empath.

Jared clicked his pen nervously, and tried to still his jiggling knees. Mrs. Lauren Tom, the teacher, or camp counselor or whatever she called herself was introducing him to the others, making Jared wish he was anywhere else but here at the Starr Summer Academy for Exotic Individuals.

"And as with all Exotics we have been given gifts to use wisely. Some of us came to our gifts early, like Jensen, here." Mrs. Tom indicated the boy sitting behind Jared. "Others came into them at a later age, like Felicia. How old were you, sweetie, about ten?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was ten when I saw my first shade."

"Ten isn't so old," the instructor said kindly. "And still others, like you, Jared, were born with them and didn't even realize you had gifts. They were so normal for you that it took us a while to realize you were an Exotic."

Mrs. Tom addressed the others. "Jared is new to us this year. He's a Claire. Clairvoyant, clairaudient, and clairsentient. It's rare to be all three. Welcome to the Starr Summer Academy, Jared."

Jared stared down at his folded hands.

"Before we start, do you have any questions for the other campers or for me in particular?"

Jared nodded with short little movements of his head. "Do I have to be here?"

"No, hon, you aren't a prisoner; you aren't required to be here. Your parents thought this might be a good experience for you, meeting other young people with talents like yours. But it's your choice. Do you want to leave?"

Jared turned to Felicia, "Why are you here? Is this place doing you any good?"

"I've been coming for four years and I like it," she said. "Here I'm one of the campers." She finger quoted. "But out there, I'm a teen-ager who sees ghosts reliving their last moments on Earth. That kind of ability doesn’t help a girl make friends. Some people are even afraid of me, but when I'm here, I'm the same as everyone else."

The blond teen sitting behind Jared, whom the instructor had called Jensen, laughed and stood with his hands out. He flexed his fingers and exaggerated a stealthy step towards Felicia. "Take it back, Red. Take it back. You're not like me because we all know I'm way cooler than you." He reached for the curls at the back of her head.

"Keep your magic fingers to yourself, Ackles." She smiled, slapping his hands away.

Jensen opened his fingers wide, fluttering them to make wild jazz hands, "Admit it, I am pretty cool."

"Yes, yes," she sounded bored, "You're pretty, and you're cool."

"Damn right I am." Jensen wiggled his fingers in her face one last time before he smiled down at Jared. "So, you see dead people?"

"Yeah, like that never gets old." Jared tried to act annoyed, but the atmosphere in the room was friendly. And they all seemed genuinely interested in him. "Yes, I can see dead people."

"Touchy, touchy," Jensen smirked.

"Funny that you're the one saying that, Mr. Hand Man." Felicia stuck her tongue out at him.

Jensen crossed his eyes at her, and then turned back to Jared. "Anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Talking to dead people is okay, but can you do anything else?" Jensen teased. "Mrs. Tom says you're rare." He gave the instructor a lopsided grin.

Jared smiled softly, recognizing the gentle teasing for what it was. "Well, not only can I talk to spirits—I call them spirits if they're dead—but I can smell them, hear them, feel their emotions and sometimes, I can touch them."

"You can touch them?" Jensen was obviously impressed.

"Well, sort of. They're not solid like you and me, but I can feel them like I'm brushing up against the tip of a feather, or running my hand over a piece of cotton."

"Wow, that may make you even cooler than Jensen," Felicia breathed.

"Not possible," Jensen said. "But, dude, that is way awesome."

Jared was emboldened. "And you know what else?"

"No, man, what else?" Jensen turned a chair around and straddled it, facing him.

"They don't have to be dead. I can sense live people, too. If there's a strong emotion in the ether, I can feel it. That's how I found my best friend's little brother when he got lost in the mall."

Jensen scooted his chair closer. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know how it works, but when Chad's brother, Chase, wandered into the candle store—he said 'cause it smelled good in there—and Chad, who told his parents that if they dropped us off at the mall he'd keep an eye on Chase, since he was only seven and Chad was eleven and a half…never mind. Anyway, it was kinda my fault, too, because both Chad and me were in GameStop when we realized that Chase was gone.

"First, I sensed this cold, scared feeling. That was coming from Chad. I closed my eyes and concentrated to see if I could remember the last time I saw Chase, but you know what?"

"No, what?" Jensen was sitting on the edge of the chair, tilting it forward.

"I felt that same cold scared feeling coming from out in the mall. I knew it wasn't Chad, but it felt a lot like him, so I figured it was Chase. "

"Was it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know it right away, and I didn't know where he was. I dragged Chad out to the middle of the walkway to look around, but zeroed in on the glass elevator that takes you up to the second and third floors. We got in and pushed the 2 and then the 3. When the doors opened on the second floor, I heard, in my mind, a little kid sniffling and crying. Then, when I smelled cinnamon, I knew right away where the smell came from. I grabbed Chad and we ran to the Candles, Soaps, and Oils store."

"Was he there?" Felicia asked.

"Yeah he was," Jared smiled. "The two shop ladies were hugging Chase and asking where his mom and dad were when Chad and I came busting into the store. Boy, that tall skinny lady gave us the stink-eye and the gray-haired lady looked like she wanted to slap us around for making Chase cry like that."

Jared shook his head sadly. "Poor little kid. He was really scared."

"But you found him," Jensen said. "You were the hero."

"I guess I would've been if I hadn't lost him in the first place." He shrugged.

"Still awesome." Jensen held out his hand. "Almost as awesome as me."

Jared shook Jensen's hand and smiled. He didn't remember a time he felt this special. In a good way.

"Do you see dead people, too?" he asked Jensen.

Jensen smiled. "Nope, my exotic talent is that I can feel what others are feeling when I touch them. If I was touching someone—reading them—and they had stubbed their toe, my toe would hurt just the same as theirs."

"Wow." Jared was impressed. He didn't know such a talent existed.

"Yup."

"So," Jared folded his arms across his chest, tipped his chin up and asked, "Anything else?"

Jensen burst out laughing at being given a taste of his own medicine.

"As a matter of fact, yes, smartass." Jensen smiled. "I can also feel people's emotions."

"Feelings in their body and feelings in their mind? All of them?"

"If I want to. I can feel both the physical and emotional as if they were my own. Coming here for the summers has taught me how to tone down everybody else and filter the feelings coming in so they make sense—and don't drive me nuts. I'm also learning how to turn it off all together. That's hard. When I'm tired or sick, I wear gloves to dull the touch."

"That's amazing." Now, Jared was the one sitting at the edge of his chair.

"Thanks."

"If you touch me," Jared held out his hand, "could you feel what I'm feeling?"

"I could, but I won't, not now. When I get to know you a little better, if you still want, I'll show you what I can do."

"Okay." Jared scooted a little closer to Jensen and asked, "Do you like coming here for the summer?"

Jensen nodded slowly. "I do. It's better for me here than out there."

"Why is it better?"

"I'm different," Jensen explained. "The kids and most of the grown-ups at my school don't know about me, only the principal and a couple of teachers, but I still don't like to be different. I don't like risking touching someone by accident—you know, when I'm not ready to block them. When I'm here, nobody makes the mistake of poking me, or shaking my hand without warning me first. I wish I didn't have to go back to my regular school at all."

"Don't your friends know?"

Jensen looked wistful. "No. I don't have a lot of friends, anyway."

"Well," Jared said. "It's not like that for me. I have it pretty good at home. I get by okay. My folks love me and are used to hearing me talking to empty rooms."

"You can learn to protect yourself here."

"Jensen," Mrs. Tom shook her head. "Jared is safe, either at home or here. He doesn't need protection."

"What I mean, ma'am, is that he's young and can be okay for now with his best friend and his family, but when he gets older and other people catch him seeing things, hearing things or smelling things that they can't, they could get nasty. We can teach him how to handle that."

"I've been bullied before," Jared said. "I handled it."

"You've been bullied?" Jensen looked shocked, and then sad.

"I couldn't hide what I've got, because I didn't know I had to. I gave myself away a long time ago."

Lauren said, "Jared, if you stay, we can help you control your gifts, and, maybe even your impulsivity."

"My what?" Jared looked at Jensen.

"We can teach you how to keep your big mouth shut." Jensen grinned.

That struck Jared funny. He laughed out loud, "Sorry, but that ship's already sailed."

"We might be able to help keep other kids from picking on you," Felicia said. "They helped me—gave me some techniques that worked for me."

"I don't have it too bad. Chad doesn't give a crap if I can see and hear stuff and he'll beat the stuffing out of anybody who looks like they're going to give me a hard time even if I won't give him the winning lottery numbers."

"Why don't you give him those?" Lauren asked.

Jared rolled his eyes. "You don't give Chad something he can hurt himself with. You don't give him matches, anything gas or electric powered, and you don't tell him who's going to win the Super Bowl."

Felicia smiled.

"That's pretty grown-up talk." Mrs. Tom sounded impressed.

"See, I don't need to be here." But at that moment, Jared wasn't as keen on leaving as he was when he first got there. "But, still, I might learn something useful if I hang around with you all for a couple of days."

"Good," Jensen stood. "C'mon, let me show you around, introduce you to the other freaks."

"Jensen," Lauren warned. "What did we say about that?"

"Sorry, sorry. I can introduce Jared to the other campers and maybe he'll change his mind and stay for the whole summer and then maybe even come back next year. How's that?"

Mrs. Tom sighed loudly.

"Why do you care if I stay or go?" Jared was honestly curious.

"I don't know." Jensen said. "Maybe you can teach me something."

"So all us freaks are back for the summer?" Jared shouted as he ran down the grassy slope behind Jensen. He picked up the pace, but skidded on the gravel path surrounding the barn.

"Personally I prefer to be called an EI for Exotic Individual, but, yep." Jensen breathed hard as he ran faster, increasing his lead. "All the freaks are back again, including you." Jensen veered right and sprinted off toward the grain silo. Jared tripped off his left toe, but recouped quickly enough to pour on the speed and catch up to Jensen at the turn.

"How do you handle your talent?" Jared panted. "When you're not in the mood to fight it, do you just not touch anybody?"

Jensen tucked his head down and ran full tilt toward the stacked hay bales. Jared matched him stride for stride until the path dipped. Jared leapt into the air and landed on the soft grass, rolled over, popped up and kept running.

Jensen lost his footing on the damp, uneven soil. "No fair!" he shouted as he slid on the wet grass.

Jared bolted toward their made-up finish line and climbed to the top of the hay bales. He fist pumped the air in triumph. "I'm king of the world! Behold, my minions, and bow to your new liege!" Then, Jared stretched both arms out and raised his voice in song, "I'm gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware! I've never seen a king of beasts with quite so little hair."

Jared swung his hair in a circle. "I'm gonna be the main event like no king was before. I'm brushin' up on lookin' down, I'm working on my rooaar!" He jumped up and down on the hay bales and struck a pose.

"Oh my God!" Jensen doubled over laughing. "That's so wrong for so many reasons."

"Free to run around all day. Free to do it all my way." Jared sang, shaking his hips. "Oh I just can't WAIT to be king!"

"Stop it, stop it." Jensen laughed until he snorted. "Oh, God!"

"Oh I just can't waaiiit," he jumped down in front of Jensen, "to be kiiiiing!"

"You…you," Jensen sputtered. "Just burst into song any time you feel like it?" Happy tears ran down Jensen's cheeks as he hiccupped and wheezed.

"Yup. Better get used to it."

Jared smiled proudly watching Jensen, sitting in a patch of mud on the ground, laughing wildly, rubbing his right knee, holding his stomach, and trying to catch his breath all at the same time.

Jared could stay here all day and die happy tonight. Jensen's laugh was the best sound ever.

Jared took a deep bow. "Care for an encore?"

"No! And don't try and distract me with your questionable singing. You won the race 'cause you cheated. You knew that dip in the road was coming up." Jensen's words were harsh, but his voice was happy and his moist eyes sparkled.

"Maybe I did, but only at the last minute." Jared stretched his hand out to help Jensen up.

"You asked if I just didn't touch people. I can touch all I want and not have this happen."

Jared's hand tingled where Jensen held it and a wash of amusement flooded through him. Jared knew that Jensen had "read" him. The happiness he felt was his own reflected back at him. Jared supposed that happy feeling flowed out of him into Jensen.

Jared took his hand back and looked at it up and down. "So, you can control it, now?"

"Yeah, and I'm getting better at it all the time. Oh, and you're forgiven. Apparently you didn't know until the last minute that the hole in the ground was there."

"Hey, I'm no liar, and don't go reading me without permission. There might be something in there I don't want you to know." Jared tapped his temple with his index finger and winked.

"Sorry, you're right. That was rude. It was only a surface touch, but I won't do it again." Jensen dusted off his dirty jeans as best he could. "Seriously, though. It was hard to control at first, and I'm still working on it. Empathy is a difficult talent to live with. It won't be so bad once I get good at the filtering thing."

"How come?"

"People carry around a lot of pain in their hearts as well as in their physical bodies and I can feel it all." Jensen sat on a low hay bale.

"That's gotta be tough sometimes." Jared sat next to him.

"It is," Jensen nodded. "Once, my mom lost track of my little sister for a couple of minutes at a Seven-Eleven, and when I touched her arm to calm her down, I could feel her panic. Man, that was scary, but that wasn't the worst."

"It wasn’t?"

"No, it was…" Jensen swallowed a couple of times. "It was my dad. My real dad. I live with my mom and stepfather now. But my dad was sick in bed at home, and we didn't know how really sick he was. I mean, we didn't know he was dying."

"Jesus, Jensen, that's awful. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, no it's okay, I want to tell you." Jensen took a deep breath. "I've never told anybody this, not even my mom, but when my dad was—you know—and I was holding his hand and he was breathing real slow, I almost couldn't breathe. My lungs got all heavy and I felt like a weight was pressing down on my chest. I opened my mouth wide and tried to breathe in, but couldn't get any air. That's when I looked at my dad. His eyes were half open but he wasn't looking at me. His chest was still, and then I couldn't feel anything at all."

"That's when he died?"

"It must have been, but when I said I couldn't feel anything, I mean anything. The fan was on overhead and the humidifier was spraying out over the bed, but I felt nothing. Not cold or hot or air moving and I still couldn't breathe." Jensen shuddered.

"What happened then?"

"My mom came in with a basin of water and a washcloth. She might have said something but then everything went black. I woke up sitting on the floor with my back up against the wall. My mother was crying, shaking dad and calling his name."

"Were you okay, after?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, I'm sorry that happened to you, and, you know, your dad."

Jensen shrugged. "It's okay." He waited a minute before saying, "So how about you? You never told me when you first realized you were Exotic?" Jensen smiled shakily.

Jared kicked a few strands of hay off of his sneakers. "Well, I always had it. Problem was, I thought everybody could tell when it was going to rain, or knew that their keys fell out of their pocket and into the garden, or talked to dead relatives."

"You must be fun at parties. Or maybe you already know that you will be fun someday." Jensen laughed.

"Oh, shut up, you." Jared shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes. "Can I ask you something and you won't get mad?"

"Sure." Jensen shifted on the hay, bending one knee then the other.

"Sometimes you look sad. I asked Lauren if that happened to all of us freakies, but she said mostly to people like you."

"People like me, huh?" Jensen smiled, gently.

"People like me," Jared thumbed his own chest, "we can talk to spirits, watch dead pet parakeets fly around, and see stuff like when your best friend is about to slide into a mud puddle." Jared nudged Jensen's shoulder.

"Yeah, keep talking, shorty." Jensen poked him back.

"Sometimes I hear spirit music and can even smell the last cigar they smoked. But they're ghosts and they're already dead so there's nothing I can do about it but listen to them and talk to them and make them feel less lonely until they pass on. But you," Jared scratched his head, "you can actually feel what living people are feeling."

"I know, right?" Jensen sighed. "I touch somebody sick, who wants to die, and I feel sadness deep in my bones. Or worse, someone who is so angry, or sad, that they want to hurt something. I accidently touched a kid once who wanted to kill his dog. I told his mother and they gave the dog away, but, God, that was awful. He wanted to do it, too—I could tell without a doubt. I don't know how I'd handle it if I touched someone who did kill their dog, or their girlfriend, or tried to kill themselves."

"Jesus, their dog?"

"Yeah, and that's why I have to learn to filter the feelings I get from the people I touch. Apparently I'm a super sensitive empath and when you're too good it can be hard to be around regular people. But it's not hard to be around you since you're not a regular person."

Jared mock glared at him.

"Because you're happy all the time, you pipsqueak. That's why I like you. I get a hit of happy offa you when you're around."

"So that's why you're not afraid to touch me?" Jared knocked his shoulder into Jensen's again.

"Yeah, but, like I said, it's not nice to touch or read anyone without their say-so, so I won't do it again. I can touch people without reading them."

"I don't mind. Anytime you need a Jared hit, just ask, and it's yours. In fact, you don’t even have to ask." Jared stood and smiled down at Jensen.

Jensen stood, ruffled Jared's hair and threw his arm around his shoulders. "Deal."

After they'd walked a few yards, Jared said, "You know what?"

"What?"

"You would make an awesome detective. You'd know if somebody was lying."

"Yeah, maybe," Jensen smiled. "And you would make an awesome private eye. Finding lost people dead or alive."

"Don't laugh, but, being a private investigator is kinda what I've always wanted to do. Ever since I read the Sherlock Holms Mysteries, I've wanted to be like him."

"Yeah? How many of the stories have you read?"

"All of them."

"So, there were, like what? Four books?" Jensen was speaking easily and there was a bounce to his step.

Jared laughed. "Oh, man, no. There are four novels and fifty-six short stories."

"That's a lot of Sherlock Holmes," Jensen said.

Jared turned his eyes towards Jensen and said, shyly, "I think we'd make a hell of a team. Between you and me, we could solve any crime."

"We could, huh?" Jensen's eyes twinkled.

"Yeah, we could find missing jewelry, or missing pets, or tell if some guy was cheating on his wife."

"Or find missing bodies. You could handle that part of the business."

"That would be right up my alley. Talking to dead people doesn't bother me at all, but I'd prefer to find them alive."

"You're something else, you know that?" Jensen smiled.

"Yes, I do know that," Jared said. "So, you'll think about it? You and me, traveling around the world solving crimes."

"Around the world, now?" Jensen chuckled.

"Yeah, like international superhero sleuths. Like, like, uh, an exotic dynamic duo, coming to the rescue. We could travel the world solving crimes. It would be so cool, all the news people interviewing us, and the mayor giving us the key to the city for all our good works an' all."

Jensen laughed. "Oh, good! My life's desire to be an international superhero sleuth is about to be realized."

Jared looked at the ground and blinked a couple of times. He didn't think Jensen would be mean on purpose, but it did hurt. "Don't make fun of me."

"No, wait, wait, Jay. I wasn't making fun of you."

"It's okay, I'm used to it." Jared tried to brush it off, but it still stung.

Jensen turned him gently. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean to sound snotty. I wouldn't make fun of you—well not for real, short-stuff."

Jared brushed off Jensen's arm. "Forget it. It was a dumb idea anyway." He put his hands into his pockets and walked a few steps in front of Jensen.

"I've thought about being a cop." Jensen said to Jared's back.

"What?"

"You know, a criminal investigator, sort of like the ones who study evidence, data and extraneous information, only I would be more, excuse the pun, hands-on about it."

"Is that true?"

"Yes, it's true. I swear I wasn't making fun of your idea. I just…when you said…it's just," Jensen blushed and coughed. "I never thought of myself as a superhero or any kind of hero. You caught me off guard with that."

Jared smiled. Jensen had been Jared's hero since Jensen first turned his chair around to talk to him, years ago.

"I know I'm only a kid, and I have kid's dreams, but I can't think of a better life. You and me, solving crimes, making people happy, or at least giving them closure." Jared looked up from under his bangs. "Do you think you could think about it? I mean, going into the detective business with me, that is, if we're still friends and we still want to?"

Jensen patted him on the back. "We'll still be friends, Jay. We'll always be friends. Hell, you're the best friend I have, so, yes, I'll think about it. We would have a blast working together."

"Damn right we would." Jared reached up to mess up Jensen's hair but Jensen was too fast and stepped out of the way.

They continued walking past one of the outbuildings that housed farm equipment. Now that they had their breath back, Jensen raised a hand to shield his eyes, "So, look out there. Do you see that tractor way at the edge of the pasture?"

Jared looked down the field where Jensen pointed.

"Uh huh," he nodded.

"Good." Jensen lightly pushed Jared away and made a mad dash toward the large piece of farm equipment. "Last one there's a dirty dog!"

"Oh, it is so on!" Jared hollered as he bounded behind.

"Where is he, Lauren? Camp lasts until we're twenty-one. Jensen still has a year before getting booted out."

"Something came up, Jared. In fact, a lot of things came up." Lauren spoke gently. "He won't be able to attend."

"We keep in touch throughout most of the year the year and he said he'd be here." Jared paced away from her. "But the last few months have been radio silence."

"Jensen has been going through a tough time at home. Also, his talents have escalated and he's had trouble controlling them." Mrs. Tom, who never seemed to age, chose her words carefully.

"What does that mean, trouble controlling them? Isn't that why he's been coming here all these years? So that he can understand his abilities and keep a lid on them? What is going on?"

"If you've been in touch, you know that Jensen's mother has separated from her husband, and that his younger sister is moving out with his mother. Jensen was staying with his stepfather so he could finish the last semester at the Community College before going on to the University."

"I knew. He told me. He also told me he was going to be here. Why isn't he here?"

"Jensen developed…" Lauren looked into Jared's frantic eyes and started again. "The stress of Jensen's family coming apart, along with a sudden and significant intensification in his abilities took a huge emotional toll on him."

"What kind of intensification?"

Lauren looked reluctant, but said, "Jensen can not only receive empathic input. He can transmit his own emotions into others."

"Can he learn how to control that?" he asked. Jared paced back and forth, then stated, forcefully. "He can learn to control that."

"But he can't right now and it became immensely stressful for him."

Jared willed himself to be calm. "What did he do?"

Mrs. Tom shook her head. "It's not for me to divulge. If he wanted you to know..."

"The only reason Jensen wouldn't have told me was that he was too sick, or, or, too incapacitated."

The panic Jared held at bay turned loose. "Is he sick? Is he dying? For God's sake, Lauren tell me.

"Jared, stop." Lauren grasped Jared's upper arm. "It's not like that." Mrs. Tom pressed her lips together then said, "Unfortunately, Jensen turned to alternative solutions for anxiety management."

"Alternative solutions?" Jared thought about what that could mean. A cold dread settled in his chest. "Drugs. He's doing drugs."

Lauren nodded, sadly. "Yes. And even though chemicals can temporarily dull the senses, they never solve problems. In Jensen's case, the drugs compounded them and he became addicted."

Jared bit his lips. "Where is he?"

"Fortunately, he realized how bad it was getting and he checked himself into a rehab center."

"I want to see him."

"That's not a good idea," she said, kindly. "He's in a good facility, consulting with Exotic experts, and getting the proper treatment. Try not to worry about him."

"Don't worry about him? Don't worry about him? Don't you get it? They're either poking and prodding him, you know, touching him or they're not. If they are, then he's fighting off all their feelings and emotions as well as trying to deal with his own. Or, they're not touching him at all. You know what a lack of touch does to an empath? Empaths have to touch. They don't always like it, but they have to. It's their nature."

"Of course I know that. They know it, too."

"How can you be sure?" Jared's whole body vibrated. "He could be suffering even more at their hands."

"He's not." Lauren touched his shoulder to still his movements. "I know he's not. I'm one of their consultants."

"Take me to him."

"Jared, maybe he doesn't want to see you."

"Did he tell you that? With his own words, did he say, I don't want to see Jared?" Jared didn't need to be psychic to know that answer.

She crossed her arms.

"He'll want to see me," Jared stated. "And I want to see him. I have to let him touch a friend. He always said he got a hit of happy off of me. Please, I need to see him."

"I know you two have become close, but I'm not sure it's wise for you to become any more involved. Jensen has the medical and emotional support offered by a top notch drug rehabilitation facility. Visiting him may not be in his best interest—or yours."

"Of course it's in his best interest." Jared's exasperation was turning to anger. "He's close by, isn't he? I figure he must be if you're doing the consulting. Hey, I'm a freak, I can consult, too."

"Calm down, Jared."

"Come on. You know it takes one to know one. Well, I am one and I know that Jensen needs to see me. I know it, and you know it, too."

"I don't know that."

Jared took a breath through his nose and let it out. He calmed himself so he could speak in a normal, reasonable tone. "How about this—we'll go in to see him together. If he looks at me sideways, I'll leave. I'll turn right around and walk out. No questions, no fights. I promise. I promise."

Lauren shifted foot to foot. Her discomfort was obvious, but she finally said, "I'll make a couple of calls but I can't guarantee anything."

"Thank you." Jared paused and asked, carefully, "Will you nudge them with your mojo—convince them to let me see him? It's important. Please?"

"I can't go around indiscriminately nudging people to do my will." Lauren's words were clipped and sounded angry. "I have to use my own talents for the greater good and not for your convenience."

Jared placed his hands on his hips. "This is for Jensen. He is the greater good."

She looked up, her eyes boring into his. Jared stared her down until she blinked.

"All right," she sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Aw, man, I don't want you to see me like this."

Jensen was curled up in a chair by the window. He had bitten his nails to the quick and his voice was ragged, but he hadn't asked Jared to leave.

The brightly lit common room was the heart of Spinnaker Shores Drug Rehabilitation Center. Jared was sitting cross legged on the floor, looking up at him. "See you like what? Sick and needing help. Shit, Jensen, there's nothing wrong with that."

"There's everything wrong with that. I'm a drug addict, Jay."

"But you came here for help. That makes you strong."

"No, it doesn't. It really doesn't." Jensen chewed on his bloody thumb nail. "I should have been stronger. I wanted to be stronger. I knew you'd be coming back this summer and I tried to clean up before then, but I couldn't."

"What happened? Tell me what was so bad that you had to take drugs." Jared blinked hard to keep his eyes from tearing. "Please."

"Before it went this far," Jensen waved an arm expansively, "I almost called you to come visit me at home. I wanted to see you. You keep me sane. You make me happy. I should have called."

"Yes, you should have, and I would have been there the next day." Jared quickly wiped his thumb under his eye. "I'm here now, talk to me," he pleaded.

Jensen hesitated, tears in his own eyes, lips pressed together. He did look ill. His hair was oily and there were dark shadows under his dull eyes. Jensen's eyes were always so expressive, so alive. The Jensen Jared knew was always a bundle of happy energy. Now misery poured out of him in deep, wet breaths.

"It would be easier for me if you read me. I don't want to tell you."

"You know I can't read people."

"You could psychically look into my past," Jensen replied, hopefully.

"I would, but there's so much worry and anxiety buzzing around you, it's creating a big, confused mess of energy," Jared explained. "But, I know what might help."

"What?" Jensen folded into a tight ball in the chair. He clasped his hands tightly around his knees, his bare feet crossed at the ankles.

"Touch me," Jared said. "Hold my hand."

A fleeting look of what looked like longing, fluttered across Jensen's face, but he closed up and pressed into the cushions.

Jared scooted closer and held out his hand. "You have my permission to touch me. To touch a friend."

That hopeful look returned as he looked Jared in the eye. "I don't deserve it."

"Take it." Jared stretched his hand, palm up to Jensen. "Hit me with everything you've got. Show me what happened."

"You'll feel me. You'll feel what I'm feeling." Jensen dropped his eyes. "I haven't been able to control that very well."

"You mean when your emotions bleed over into me, right? Lauren told me about that."

Jensen nodded. "I'll try to hold onto them, but I know that when I feel your emotions, you'll feel mine." He spoke to the floor. "I'm afraid you'll be disgusted when you discover how weak I am, and do anything to get away from me."

"I won't," Jared said steadily. "I can take anything you dish out and I'm not going anywhere." He nudged Jensen with his hand. "Promise."

Jensen's eyes zeroed in on Jared's. Whatever Jensen saw there must have convinced him, because he unclasped his hands.

"You have this knack of getting your way with me."

"We both know that's bullshit." Jared cocked a smile.

Jensen leaned forward and latched onto Jared's hand, threading their fingers together.

Jared felt the raw buzz of Jensen's empathic forces shooting down to his fingertips, up his arm and through his chest. Jensen closed his eyes, readying himself to experience Jared's emotions—to feel Jared's heart beat from the inside out.

Jared released his own fears and opened his heart. Today, Jensen would understand what he meant to Jared. It terrified Jared. But in the end that wasn't important, because, ultimately, what mattered was Jensen.

Jensen squeezed Jared's hand until his breathing slowed and his sage green, panicked eyes finally fluttered to half-mast. Peace and calm radiated out of Jared as all his gentle feelings of tender love and friendship flowed into Jensen. A different kind of tears filled Jensen's eyes.

Jared wasn't an empath, so when the first of Jensen's feelings hit him, he was surprised and he flinched. Jensen's emotion was fear.

Jensen tried to pull away but Jared held tight. "Sorry, Jen, don't let go. I jumped because I wasn't expecting it. It's nothing I haven't felt before."

Jensen relaxed his fingers and his fear let up. Jared closed his eyes and fell into the psychic connection he was creating with Jensen. With Jensen's new-found, unwanted talent, Jared would know exactly how Jensen felt when what happened, happened.

The shadows of the past and present began swirling in Jensen's aura. A whirlwind of uncertainty flooded his future, and the fear turned into distress.

"Easy, Jen," Jared soothed. "We're okay."

Jared did what he could to ease the emotional tide pounding through Jensen's brain, recalling happy memories of late night chats, chess games, running races, camp fires, and planning their imaginary detective agency together. Jared calmed, so Jensen calmed.

"Please, Jared, when you see…don't hate me," Jensen begged.

Jared opened his eyes and looked into Jensen's dark-rimmed ones. "Not possible."

He held tight to Jensen's hand, took in a breath and let his eyes roll back. The whoosh of his psychic energy filled the room. Suddenly, the day room was filled with people from a distant past. Men wore Fu Manchu mustaches and the women's hair were all blow-dried, hair sprayed and tall. A flood of activities whirled around him. It seems that Spinnaker Shores used to be a convalescent home called The Infant of Prague Center for Recovery.

Everything he had learned on how to block Jensen's forces, to keep both of their privacies intact, got shot to hell. Jensen wanted him to know the hurtful events that led to his drug addiction, and Jared needed to see them so he could reassure Jensen that their friendship could handle it.

He narrowed his field to include only now and only Jensen. Events shifted, coalesced around him, took shape and became readable.

Jared became witness to Jensen's recent past and saw his friend on what looked like a roof top overlooking a large parking lot. It was dark and Jensen was on the top floor. Maybe it was at an airport, or a hospital complex, he couldn't tell, but a wide expanse of cars was parked one level below him and the other parking levels were under roof, and there were at least eight levels of them.

He was very high up.

Jared concentrated until Spinnaker Shores faded away completely, allowing Jared to join with Jensen's experience.

The night air was damp, and a chilly wind was blowing. Jensen wore only a thin white tee shirt and jeans and the stiff breeze was making him shiver. Jared saw that Jensen's toes were awfully close to the edge of the uppermost ledge.

"Jesus, Jen." Jared squeezed Jensen's hand, and the jittery empathic vibration under his skin made it clear that Jensen could feel his fear.

"I was so strung out that I considered making that last jump. I thank God that I still had two brain cells to rub together that night because I thought it out, I mean, really thought it out. Standing at the brink, I debated the pros and cons of my life. I thought about my mother, about my sister, and I thought about you." Jensen gently squeezed back. "I decided that there was a future waiting for me, with people who would love and support me if I were brave enough to try. I decided not to jump."

"Then why, Jensen? Why didn't you come to me? Why the drugs?"

"Watch and listen." Jensen placed their clasped hands to his chest and closed his eyes. Jared's psychic senses were overwhelmed as Jensen's life presented before him.

The first images were happy.

Jensen, sharing chocolate chip cookies with his little sister, building sand castles with his dad on the beach, raking up and jumping into piles of leaves with the neighborhood kids. There were pumpkin pies baking in the oven and happy voices around a kitchen table. Young Jensen, dressing up in red choir robes getting ready to sing Christmas carols at midnight mass.

But then, the images got choppier and darker. Puzzle pieces to a larger picture of Jensen's sorrow. Some things Jared knew, most he didn't.

Peter Edwin Ackles, Beloved husband and father. Taken from us too soon.
I miss you every day, dad.

"You're older, Jensen, Abby needs me more than you do. Be the big brother and understand that."
But there's nobody to drive me to baseball practice, mom.

"He's a good man. Try to get along with him, Jensen. For me."
He doesn't like me.

"Did you skip class again, young man? I won't have it. Not under my roof!"
"Try for me, Jensen, please, baby, he means well. Try for me."
Why can't she try for me?

"What did you do? Don't you touch her! Don't touch me! Stay out of my classroom."
I can't help it. I can't help it. I can't help it.

"Why can't you be normal? Tone down whatever it is you have and try not to get kicked out of another school. Do you have any idea how unhappy you make your mother?"
My mother loves me the way I am. You're not my father.

Jensen crying softly in the corner of his room. The smell of cigarette smoke, frying meat and old beer bottles breaking as they were being thrown away, came with this vision.

Ignored.

Jensen talking to his mother, pleading with her, trying to hold her hand. His mother scowling, shaking her head.

Dismissed.

The final impressions were all of Jensen, jumbled together: angry shouting, hurling books and ashtrays, bloody knuckles, stealing money from his step-dad's wallet, speeding cars, and failing grades.

Running away. Returning home in shame.

Pills, rolled joints, cigarette lighters, charred spoons, white powder, hypodermic needles, back alleys and a gray, murky sky. Feeling dull and blissfully disconnected. Sinking into a deep, dark hole, but way too numb to care.

Then something bright and sharp appeared in the darkness of Jensen's mind. A tiny window opened in the corner of the blackness. Jared peered at the bright light, trying to see what it was. There was the scent of sweet, damp hay as it lay in front of a red barn. He tasted peanut butter and jelly on his tongue and felt Pepsi bubbles tickling his nose. In the distance, the silhouette of a grain silo materialized on the horizon. A footrace was in progress with two young boys, skidding down the wet grass running neck-and-neck toward the pasture.

Jared and Jensen ran and laughed and played pranks and told jokes to one another. They shared secrets, made promises and dreamed of the future.

"Now go back to the parking garage," Jensen said softly, breaking Jared out of the trance evoked by their shared memories.

Jared stood beside Jensen at the edge of the building looking down. The Jensen in the vision took Jared's hand and placed it on his chest. He leaned into Jared, brushing Jared's unruly hair away from his eyes, kissing his forehead in a chaste, gentle manner. "This is why I didn't jump, Jay. I couldn't jump knowing you were there. Knowing you would be hurt. Knowing how much I meant to you. How much you meant to me."

"Then you knew?" Jared spoke so softly he wasn't sure Jensen heard him.

"That you cared? That you'd miss me if I died?" Jensen smiled, softly. "I've known for a long time. I'd miss you, too. I always knew you could teach me something."

"Thank God." Jared's voice shook but his manner was confident and sure. "But, are you still addicted?"

"I'm clean now, but it's a struggle. Every day is a struggle, you know, always feeling everything and everyone I touch. It's hard to keep the walls up. I'm constantly wishing that I had something to deaden my senses. Plus, they told me, Jay—they told me," Jensen caught his breath and swallowed.

"What did they tell you?"

"The power, my power, is getting stronger as I get older. That means, I'll know other people's emotions and they'll know mine, and I'll have to work every day to hide what I'm feeling when I touch someone. It's getting worse and I'm going to suffocate, Jared. I'm going to drown and never make it up to the surface. I'll be so immersed in other people's emotions that I won't be able to handle my own."

"That won't happen, I won't let it. We'll learn how to manage your talents, together. You'll never have to handle them alone, or use drugs to dull your gifts. You have me." Jared caught Jensen's eye. "You have me. Give me all your emotions, I'll take them."

"I can't ask you to do that."

Jared ran his hands up Jensen's arms and squeezed his shoulders. "Feel this." Everything he felt, all his fear when he heard Jensen was in rehab, how much he missed him all year and looked forward to the summers with him, all the convoluted emotional, physical and spiritual love Jared had for him throughout the years. He turned it loose, filling Jensen with the honesty of his affection.

Jensen nearly doubled in half, but Jared held on tight. Jared was used to the strong feelings Jensen evoked, but Jensen was bowled over by them. A low sob came from Jensen before he said, "Nobody has ever cared this much. I never knew how it felt."

"Now, you know. If you ever doubted me, now you know." Jared took his hands off. "You know my feelings for you. You know they're real. You know I'm staying for good, ready to always give you this," he took his hand and held it high, "when you need to touch without holding back."

"It won't be easy."

"You're telling me. You turned my whole future around. I was planning on you being Watson to my Holmes. Now, you get to be Sherlock."

Jensen chuckled, sadly. "Drug addictions win top billing I guess."

"I'll watch out for you—even when it gets worse."

"I hope so."

"But I have one very specific stipulation." Jared let go of Jensen's hand. "One you cannot break."

"What?" he asked, softly.

"You cannot turn to drugs or easy reads when things turn ugly. You have to turn to me, now. Trust in me. I'm yours until I'm not enough for you."

Jensen brought Jared's knuckles to his lips and kissed each one. A sizzle of Jensen's energy escaped into Jared. Scared, but hopeful.

"Then I guess you're here to stay."