Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 1B REPOST

[jcrgirl]

Title: Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 1B REPOST
Author: Insertcode11 with jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: Dean/Sam, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Overall: Wincest, AU, bondage, non-con (not the boys), abuse, weecest (Sam is 16) in parts
Word Count: ~ 9600
Beta: glimmerella
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: AU after the events of Devil's Trap (1x22). John's alive and there is no deal. In October of 2007 Castiel brings a case to Sam and Dean that takes them to Pike Creek, Delaware and in all appearances seems like a case that was never fully solved when they were in town in October of 2000. They settle into the town and their cover roles easily enough, though the hunt itself is puzzling and elusive. However, Sam's edgy and secretive and Dean's not exactly thrilled to be back in the town where Sam first got it in his head to go to Stanford. At least they have the generous help of John's old Marine buddy and closest friend outside of the supernatural world-who Sam seems to have an inexplicable problem with. Dean will find, just as Sam did when he was sixteen that the supernatural aren’t the only horrifying things that stir in the coldest hours just before the dawn.

A/N: This is the story of a story. This story was started by the wonderfully talented Insercode11. She posted the first three chapters and wrote an additional three. When she wasn't able to finish this fic, I volunteered to complete it. I only hope to live up to her beautiful beginning. This Chapter is her original work, reposted to re-familiarize us all on where we last saw our boys. All praise belongs to her.



Dean frowns. Sam never turns down shower sex (and who would, really?). And he never let one of Dean’s pet names go without the cursory ‘Don’t call me that, Dean’ which really meant he liked it. Dean’s only slightly annoyed but Cas is still here and maybe Sam just needs some space to deal with his guilt. It wasn’t unheard of although Sam did usually tend to prefer physical contact to drag him out of his headspace.

“What is wrong with Sam? He is upset.” Cas observes. It’s his job to keep the Winchesters protected physically and to keep them out of the clutches of Hell. However, about four months into his protection detail, Castiel had discovered that sometimes he needed to protect the hearts and minds of the brothers as well. Sam had told him it was because Castiel saw them as friends.

Dean shrugs and walks over to the table to finish up the weapons and pack them. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we obviously didn’t finish the hunt the first time? He probably blames himself for these recent deaths.” Dean decides to leave out the part where he was also blaming himself. If kids had died because they had been careless… Dean takes Castiel’s interested stare as cue to continue.

“Well. There were fires in Pike Creek. Dad went thinking it might have been Azazel, the demon that killed Mom-or well, maybe Dad knew back then that it was probably a demon of some kind, but we didn’t know until the shit hit the fan a year and a half ago.” Dean explain.

“So we got there and it wasn’t the demon. It wasn’t the same MO. People were found in the houses or in the woods burned to a crisp but the surrounding area untouched by these fires.”

Cas nods. “Like the adult this time around.”

“Right. But the other deaths? The stabbing and the supposed suicides? That’s new.”

“What did they say about the burnt bodies last time?”

Dean smirks. “Definitely not spontaneous combustion, though the theory back then wasn’t much better. The best they had was that someone was burning the bodies somewhere else and dropping the remains in the woods or in their houses.” Dean loads the weapons in the duffle to dump in the trunk later and moves to set aside new clothes and to pack his and Sam’s bags.

“What was it?”

“It was a who not a what, but he was using something supernatural.” Dean sats with a frown. “Apparently, there was this psycho teacher several years back-colonial times, I think. She burned the school--well, it doubled as a church back then--with the kids in it. The town was small back then, it was a massacre. Anyway, her body was burned so we couldn’t salt and burn her. But the townspeople made her casket out of the burnt bricks of the school. Her spirit must have attached itself to them. There was this one guy, into black magic and stuff. He dug up the grave and stole one of the bricks. Apparently, it had the power to incinerate anything it touched. He must have cast some spell in order to touch it without being burnt himself. Maybe he’s the one that attached her spirit to thing. So he was going around town burning people he had a beef with. No kids were killed back then.”

“It sounds like someone else has gotten their hands on one of these bricks.”

Dean snorts. “It’s what it sounds like but it’s gonna be hard to be sure, man. We dug up every single one of those damn things and dumped them in the bottom of the nearest lake. God, that job was awful. And smelly.” Dean’s brow wrinkled.

“And Sammy was being a teenage drama queen and he wasn’t there to help. Some school project or whatever.” There was no real bite in the words, though Dean would always look back at those last years before Stanford with Sam and Dad fighting all the time with weariness.

He only got really bitter whenever he thought of the “Stanford Years” too much. It bothered Dean how easily Sam could have left his family, left him, and not even contact them. Dean understood, kind of, why Sam wouldn’t contact Dad. But Dean had snapped out of his stupor and chased Sam down the street with his car on That Night.

He had tried to talk Sam out of it and when his efforts were met with silence he had driven Sam to the bus station. Then Dean had called repeatedly the first week to make sure Sam got to Stanford. Sam wouldn’t answer the phone but he would answer texts. And then he didn’t even answer those after a few weeks in his new life in California.

Sam’s leaving was a betrayal to their family. Sam’s bid for “normal” was really him taking all the years Dean had sacrificed everything for his brother and throwing it in Dean’s face. And Sam hadn’t even apologized. Sam’s here now and so Dean tries not to really think of the past. Sam’s here now and promises that he won’t leave Dean but Dean can’t help but doubt him because Sam never apologized for leaving, for wanting “normal” (and, God, that word grated like sandpaper on his skin). Obviously, Sam still wants those things. If his little brother left before, what’s to stop him from leaving again? Though this time they were lovers instead of just brothers, but Dean tries not to think about that because it just meant it would hurt Dean all the more when it happened.

Dean shakes his head, trying to ward off his doubts and lingering pain of betrayal. He sets all of the packed gear on the table and chair and shrugs his soldiers at Castiel. “Anyway. Like I said, those other deaths didn’t happen last time. And yeah, that burnt body seems suspicious, but it doesn’t add up. Can’t say it’s related yet.”

Castiel purses his lips, nods and looks so unsettled for an angel that Dean feels compelled to reassure them both. “I’m sure Sammy and his geeky little head will have it figured out before someone else dies.” Sam was the best he’d seen with research, even outpacing Dad’s ability to track demons in the past year. Dean knew that with Cas the three of them were an incredibly efficient hunting team, sometimes blowing through cases in half the time it would have taken them two years ago.

Castiel did not voice the concern that was shadowing his mind. Sam’s emotions were a new mix-panic, fear, confusion, and doubt. Sam felt all of these things at some point during a hard hunt, but almost never at the same time and never before the hunt. Castiel contemplated going in the bathroom and confronting his charge, or at least telling Dean his concern but decides that he would wait and talk to Sam later after he gathers more information.

Inside the bathroom, Sam stands tall and still underneath the lukewarm spray and wishes.

****

“You’re doing it wrong.” Ellen snaps at John, only sparing him a glance as she flips the stools and chairs off the bars and tables. “I think I know-“

“Hey, Mom!” Jo calls as she bursts into the Roadhouse.

“Hey Joanna.” Ellen grunts and Jo raises her brows and looks to John who was scowling at her mother with glasses in his hands.

“Right. I’m just gonna go… talk to Ash.” She mutters and eases in the back where she peeks into Ash’s open door.

“They flirting again?” Ash asks without looking up from his computer. Ash had felt mildly protective of Ellen when John first arrived, but as soon as he saw the rampant sexual tension between the two he had backed off, not wanting to get in the middle of that. Though it was fun to watch from afar.

Jo nods miserably.

“It's creepy as hell.”

After the car crash John was volleyed from the Singer house to the Roadhouse because he was whiny and bullheaded and restless. John had gotten on Bobby's nerves, and Bobby's on his, and the bickering had gotten so violent that one day Sam and Dean had walked into Bobby's house to see the two men waving shot guns at each other. After that, a move was really just a matter of getting packed and convincing John that he wouldn't be a burden on Ellen. John had been so ill and troublesome at first because he couldn’t stand being out of the hunting game or having his sons out there alone looking for Azazel.

Now that all of it was over it was easier for him to accept his new limitations and settle down at the Roadhouse. Jo didn’t mind having John Winchester around. His fame as a hunter actually attracted patrons. He picked up arms trafficking after Caleb was killed by the demon Meg and now provided hunters with specialized materials and weapons. That also attracted a lot of business to the Roadhouse.

The flirting with Mom didn’t really bother Jo-besides the fact that it was creepy. The bickering had first started because Mom still blamed John for Dad’s death and because John refused to be bossed around. The heat from their arguing seemed to have melted the ice between them. John never asked for forgiveness and Mom never asked for an apology or details of the hunt that killed Dad. But somehow their bickering had less bite and more flirtation. Jo didn’t really mind it.

She harbored no bitterness towards John and his presence redirected Mom’s nagging to someone else besides Jo. John’s presence was a good thing because now Jo was running her own bar without her mother’s constant managerial “advice”. She sends a smile at Ash and nods towards his computer.

“What are you working on now?” In the main part, John is still shooting death over his shoulder at the bar’s matron. “I think I know how to stack the damn glasses, Ellen.” “Obviously you don’t. The way you’re going you’re not gonna to fit half of them back there.” John slams two glasses down on the bar, gritting his teeth. “You do it then if you know so much.” “And let you keep freeloading? You gotta earn your keep around here. This ain’t no halfway house.” “You don’t make the boys work! And I earn my keep!” “The boys help out with repairs when they’re here. Besides, they need time to rest.” Ellen corrects. “You sleep all day and play with guns every once in a while!” John’s business brought a lot of customers and profits to the Roadhouse, and while Ellen was thankful for it she was never going to admit that part to John. “You know my weapon business has expanded your business!” “Yes, it has, and now we need even more help and I can’t afford to hire anyone so you get to do it and I want you to do it right!” “And there’s nothing wrong with how I’m stacking the damn glasses!” “Sure there is.” Ellen says as she puts the last chair down.

“So re-do it. And when you’re done do the dishes from last night.” John groans. “Are you kidding me? What did I do to piss you off this time?” Ellen quirks her lips and shifts her weight, bringing up a hand to her hip, the movement causing her breasts to slip further out of the stretched out black tank top she was wearing beneath her jacket.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

John stares at her a beat before breaking into a smug smirk very similar to the rakish and charming one his eldest son utilizes.

"C’mon, Elle. You know you love havin’ me around to feed the sexual tension.” She was hot, in an ornery redneck housewife sort of way, and John wouldn’t be a man if he wasn’t attracted to her.

However, while things had cooled between them, they hadn’t resolved the veil surrounding her husband’s death. And John didn’t want to rehash the past with her. Besides, while John’s had his one-night stands (Dean picked up that habit from him), John realizes on some level he had never reconciled with Mary’s death. He had only repressed it and now that the Yellow-Eyed son of a bitch was gone and his sons were safe with each other and their guardian angel, now that he didn’t have to worry all the time, John misses Mary more than he had in the days and months right after her death and he just wasn't ready--would probably never be ready--to really move on.

Sam and Dean tease him endlessly about Ellen, however. Dean has a habit of asking when the wedding is whenever he calls John and Sam promises that they would be happy to chip in for the honeymoon and get Cas to teleport them so they wouldn’t have to spend the money on airfare.

Ellen rolls her eyes and turns so the smug bastard couldn’t see her smile. “You wish, Jackass. And don’t call me that.”

John laughs, makes a half-hearted attempt to rearrange the glasses. “Short on comebacks today. Maybe I’m finally getting to you?”

“Maybe you need to shut your mouth and do your job.” Ellen bites back.

“Why can’t you do the dishes?” John doesn't whine.

“Because I gotta check the books and do inventory, which is on the computer. Have your computer skills improved? Cause I got a busted one in the dumpster that says otherwise.”

John’s scowl blackens and he turns to finish the glasses. Ellen grins at the back of his head, relishing in yet another victory. John grumbles, wincing already at the prospect of dirty dishes. Ellen has a quip about him pruning his delicate hands on the tip of her tongue when John's cell phone starts to ring shrilly from one of the tables. John grunts in dread at moving and Ellen moves to get it for him but John petulantly waves her off.

“I got it.” He says, already moving, his shoulders dipping drastically as he limps from behind the bar. “Probably just the boys.”

Ellen nods, watching as John struggles on his mangled leg. Though the angel Castiel now protected the steps of the younger Winchesters, he was too late to save John from his fate. John’s legs were mangled in the car crash. The right knee had wrenched, snapping all the ligaments. They had reconstructed the ligaments but there was no way John could do more than walk on it ever again. His right femur had suffered a break and a blood clot post-surgery, which in turn caused nerve and tissue damage. It was so bad that the doctors had wanted to amputate but John had refused, thinking that he could somehow overcome it, needing to overcome it because the demon was still out there and his boys needed him. There was some nerve damage in his left hip and lower back so that he often experienced the “dead leg” sensation that alternated with painful spasms. His right leg was almost completely useless and his left side its bad days.

John really couldn’t walk any distance, and most days he should be restricted to a wheelchair. However, John was a stubborn son of a bitch and stuck to the cane no matter how much pain he was in, which was why he was always so damned grouchy. John had been more stubborn and bitter about the injury when Azazel was still alive. Now it frustrated him most days but he was learning to live with it. The arms dealing for hunters helped him out, made him feel useful. And it felt good to be home base for his boys, like he was making up for all the years he had robbed from them. As a result his relationship with Sammy was totally renewed. Without the hunt and forced to be still and stable John seemed to have rediscovered how to be a father. Dean and especially Sam now turned to John for advice, for help, and just to talk in a way that neither had done since they were small children. The injury was the bane of his existence, but it was also his saving grace.

Mostly he was just grateful. After all, while he had lain mangled and unconscious in the crushed Impala, trapped in by the fire started by the eighteen-wheeler, his baby boys had laid mangled and dead. Castiel had appeared and raised his two sons from the dead, leaving behind a hand print on Dean’s shoulder and a hand print on Sam’s back. Castiel had only been given the power to raise the two Winchesters from the dead and pull the three of them from the wreckage in time for the paramedics. Dean had remained in a long coma, Sam in a medically induced coma while they sewed up his chest and fought bleeds and infections. John had lain awake, practically paralyzed, and utterly helpless.

Ellen made her way to the bar, pulling out her laptop and opening up the books, keeping half an ear on John’s conversation. It was a shame that a hunter like John Winchester was out of the game. However, hunting wasn’t everything and a part of Ellen was relieved that John had been forced out of the life. The pain was excruciating some days and Ellen didn’t wish that on him, but she had never seen John so peaceful before. She never regretted inviting him to stay at the Roadhouse, though everything in her at the time had screamed against it. No matter what had happened on that hunt all those years ago, John hadn’t wanted Bill to die, and Bill would have been upset with her for taking out her grief on John, especially when he was down after the crash.

John answers gruffly. “Yeah?” The sound of his oldest son’s laughter was a relief. He hadn’t heard from his boys in almost two weeks. It was nothing like the month gaps of radio silence that used to be between them. Two weeks tended to be the longest the boys didn’t call, and it usually meant that they were bogged down with hunts and exhausted.

“Gee, Dad. Don’t sound so happy to talk to me.”

John rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “I’m going to get enough of you in a few days anyway.”

“Yeah. About that.” Dean sighs and John picks up the tension in his voice. “Cas got us a pretty urgent hunt. Something crazy is going down in Pike Creek, Delaware.”

John frowns, easing himself down in a chair, grunting at the pain that shoots up and burns his body. And he was actually disappointed that his boys weren’t coming, he had been looking forward to seeing them. “Pike Creek?”

“Yeah. We’ve been there before, remember the-“

“Fires.” John nods though Dean couldn’t see him. “There more fires?”

Dean was silent for a moment. “There’s been one fire like the one from last time. There’s other deaths now. Hanging. Slit wrists. Stabbing. We don’t really have a pattern right now but there’s been six deaths already. Four of them were high school kids, Dad.”

John closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “Jesus.”

“…Yeah.” Dean agrees softly. There was a long pause and John could pick up some murmuring in the background.

“That angel of yours with you?”

“Cas, Dad.” Dean corrected automatically. “Yeah. He’s riding in the backseat.” John could hear his grin. “He’s such a backseat driver, too.”

John hears a deep voice but couldn’t make out the words. “I know I’m the one driving. That’s not what I mean, Cas.” Was Dean’s overly patient response.

John smiles a little at hearing the exasperation toward the angel. John could have reacted like Dean when he first met Castiel. He could have moaned about how if angels and God existed then how could they have allowed Mary and Jess die horrible deaths. He could have railed about how angels and God had allowed a demon to play sick games with Sammy and the other children. He could have chosen to be angry and sarcastic, he had wanted to, but he didn’t. In the end Castiel, God, had chosen to interfere and save his babies’ lives. Not only that, but Castiel was here to prevent the Winchesters from becoming the playthings of Hell.

John could admit to himself that sometimes he felt threatened by Cas, like the angel was taking his place as protector, caregiver, partner, father. John had reneged on his fatherly duty for over twenty years, so if that was the case then he really had no right to reclaim his place when Cas was doing such a better job. All he could do was be patient and be there for his boys in all the ways he could.

“Dean.” John says to remind his eldest that he was on the phone.

“Right. So. We’re calling cause we obviously can’t use fake aliases. We were there for a couple of months, people will remember us. Especially Sam.”

John frowns. “Sam?”

“Yeah. One of the two adults killed was the guidance counselor at the school. She was the one that was burned, actually. Since four kids were killed we decided that if we could get Sam in as the new guidance counselor we could keep an eye on pretty much all the students. Students have been the main victims, so whatever this thing is might be in the school.”

John nods. “Good idea. Yeah. I’ll get Ash to whip up a resume and make sure it gets noticed. Should be set up by the time you get there. What else?”

“Well.” Dean drawls out, a bit rueful. “My, uh, record.”

John rolls his eyes, remembering what the boys told him of that encounter with the shape shifter in St. Louis. Shape shifters were easy enough to kill but a bitch to catch. Also, Dean’s record as serial killer made it hard for them to work closely with the police. Ash had been meaning to fix that.

“We’re gonna be using our real names.” Dean reminds and rushes on. “And the other adult killed was the local sheriff. The deputy’s been temporarily promoted, but they’re still looking for a new sheriff to come to town.”

John distinctly hears Sam’s derisive snort from the other end and couldn’t help but smile. Still, having to use real names was a pain-and painfully expensive since they couldn’t use credit fraud.

“Well, I’ll see what Ash can do.”

“I just don’t want a background check to bite us in the ass. Also, I kinda need sheriff credentials. You know, other than the fact that I look fine in uniform-Ow! Sammy!”

John chuckles. “Well, boys. I’ll see what I can do.”

“What Ash can do. You’re crap with computers, Dad.”

John scowls, shooting a dark look at Ellen as if the last comment was her fault.

“Like you’re any better.”

“Hey. Sammy told me to say that. Don’t take it out on me.” John rolls his eyes.

“If Sam’s so smart then have him do it.” Dean snorts. “Little bitch is too scared that he’ll mess up and alert the Feds.” He says like it wasn’t one of the worst possible things that could ever happen.

John couldn’t hear words but he could hear the sarcasm just oozing in his youngest son’s voice as he snarks back at Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. But you better have a backup plan, Dean. Not sure if Ash can swing erasing criminal records without red flags popping up.”

“Yeah, whatever. There’s this youth center that three of the kids went to. But since it’s mostly kids that are being killed, me and Sam have a feeling that sheriff might’ve been on to something and got killed for it. Guidance counselor, too.” John nods. “Fair guess. Be careful, both of you boys, don’t go off half cocked. I’ll look and see if there are any omens in the area.” And then a thought occurs to him.

“I’ll see if I can get in touch with Nathan. Maybe he’ll find you boys a house or apartment. Can’t work as a sheriff and counselor out of a motel room.”

“Who?” Dean asks.

“Nathan Schneider. Old Marine buddy of mine? He was there that time we were hunting in Pike Creek. Sammy’s gym coach. Anyway, he’s still at that school Sam went to. Just a reminder, he doesn’t know anything about what we do and what we hunt, so keep things quiet, but he’s a reliable guy, a good guy. Maybe he could help get you boys set up with some living arrangements. Maybe we can get him to do a recommendation for both your cover jobs. Last time I checked, that little Marine grunt turned into an upstanding, fine member of the community.”

“Sounds good.” Dean agrees, sounding distracted. Either Dean’s short attention span was kicking in or he was actually interested in whatever debate Sam and Castiel were engaged in. It was most likely the former.

“Make sure you check in.”

“OK, Dad, but we have a handy guardian angel now.” “Humor me, Dean.” John sighs.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean repeats, but sounds more serious. “Be careful.” And then, because it was weird for him but he wanted to do it all the same, he adds, “tell Sam I said hey.” Dean was silent for a moment.

“Sure.”

He seems surprised, but pleased with the request still unused to the renewed bond between John and Sam.

“Hey Dad-” And John could picture the leer forming on his eldest son’s lips.

“If you and Ellen actually decide to skip on the foreplay, don’t forget protection-“

This time John distinctly hears the slap to the back of Dean’s head and Sam’s startled “gross, Dean!”

“Right.” Dean sounds appropriately cowed by his brother’s reprimand. John couldn’t help but laugh. Both of his boys were proud and fiercely independent. Sam seemed to be the only one that could reprimand Dean and get away with it. Sam was also the only one that could make Dean shy or rueful. Really, Sam was the only one that was Dean’s everything so it wasn’t a surprise Sam held so much power and influence over his big brother.

“Call you later.” Dean promises and hangs up. John closes his phone, chuckling fondly as he pictures his boys having a slap fight I the front seat, shooting childish insults back and forth while an angel of the Lord looks on curiously from the backseat.

“John?” Ellen calls as she picks up the phone to call in more orders.

“Dishes. Now.” John curses all the way to the kitchen and vows to break at least two plates, just for the hell of it.