Blood Moon Rising Pt. One John/Bobby, EvilSam/John, EvilDean/John
Blood Moon Rising
Fandom: Supernatural
Parings: Evil!Sam/Evil!Dean, Evil!Sam/John, Evil!Dean/John, eventually John/Bobby
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: AU, masturbation, M/M sex, rape (Evil! Sam/John. Evil! Dean/John), angst up the wazoo, violence, blood and gore. OOC behavior, Character Deaths.
Summary: Set during Season 1 during Dead Man's Blood, AU after that.
A lot of the dialogue for the opening scene comes directly from the script for Dead Man’s Blood. John and the boys are separated during the raid on the nest, and both Sam and Dean are kidnapped by the vampires. John calls Bobby for assistance in finding the boys. Once John and Bobby find the vampires' new nest John discovers that things have gone horribly wrong.
Note: This fic contains explicit depictions of rape and torture. It also deals with the aftermath of rape and recovery.
Many thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.
The Impala rested on the side of the road while Dean turned the plain white envelope over in his hands. He looked at the block printing on the front, unwilling to open the envelope but knowing that it might be important. Letting his finger drift over the rough surface of the paper Dean traced the letters J. W. No address just the simple notation; he flinched knowing this letter was meant for his father. Suddenly there was movement at the window and Dean looked up. His father bent over smiling at his startled expression.
“Hello, boys.”
Sam leaned over his brother’s back.
“Dad!”
With a sigh John opened the rear door and slid into the car.
“I heard about Dan Elkins getting killed. Thought I’d better come down and check it out. I saw you two up at his place earlier, nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”
Dean shrugged as nonchalantly as his father.
“Learned from the best.”
Sam frowned.
"Why didn't you come in Dad?"
"You know why. I had to make sure that you weren’t followed," John said. Holding up a hand he motioned to the envelope in his older son’s hand.
“I’d better have a look at that.”
Dean surrendered the envelope and looked in the rearview mirror as his father folded out a sheet of paper.
“Damn it, he had it all along.”
“Had what?”
“The gun, I’ve been looking for it all these years and it looks like Daniel had it all along.”
John ran a hand through his hair. "Did you see any sign of an old gun in the place?"
Dean nodded.
"Yeah there was a case in there. No gun though. Looks like something trashed the place to get it."
“Looks like they took it. We need to get on the trail of Elkins' killers immediately, they have the gun now.”
"You want us to come with you?" Sam asked incredulously, glancing over the seat at his father. “We don’t even know what killed him, Dad.”
John shot him a look as he replied,
“Vampires.”
Dean flinched,
“Vampires, how come you never mentioned them before?”
“That’s what Daniel did. He was a vampire hunter, and I thought they were extinct, that he had cleared them all out. Never figured we’d ever run into any of them. Most of what you hear about vampires is total crap. They used to be human so that affects the way you deal with them. They prefer to come out at night, but that doesn’t mean they can’t come out in daylight. You can’t kill them with a stake through the heart, just good old fashioned decapitation.”
The cabin was dark, silent with the boys asleep on the beds. John lay on a large chair, listening intently to the police scanner he had pulled out of his truck. The static cleared enough for John to hear a call to dispatch about an abandoned car on the road out of town. Rising up he roused the boys, first one then the other, then they set out towards the outskirts of town.
There were two police cruisers blocking the road so John pulled his truck off to the side just a few yards down from the blockade. Dean pulled the Impala up beside him. The two men stood on the side of the road talking in hushed tones as John scouted the area around the police lines. Dean watched his father trudge back down the still road waiting for the older man to reach him and his brother.
“A couple called 911. They found a body in the street. Cops got there, the couple was missing. It’s the vampires."
Sam frowned jerking his chin at the police cars.
“How do you know it was the vampires, Dad?”
Holding up a hand John turned over what looked like small sharp shard of ivory colored bone. Sam took it from his father’s hand.
“What is it, a fang?”
“Tooth, actually,” John said. "No fangs, teeth. The second set descends when they attack. Any more questions? All right, let’s get out of here, we’re losin’ daylight. Hey, Dean, why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it."
John frowned as he walked to his truck. He could hear Sam laughing and ribbing his brother as they climbed into the Impala. Once they were on the road again John punched Dean's cell phone number in and waited for his older son to answer.
"Yeah, Dad. All right, got it," Dean said hanging up the phone. Turning to Sam he added, "Pull off at the next exit."
Sam looked over at his brother. "Why?"
"Because Dad thinks we’ve got the vampires’ trail."
"How?"
Dean shrugged.
"I don’t know, he didn’t say."
Sam suddenly stepped on the gas and sped down the road. He cut the car in front of his father’s truck and pulled over. John pulled over as well. All three of them climbed out of their cars.
Dean frowned putting his head in his hands.
"Oh, crap. Here we go. Sam!"
John stormed up to his sons turning on Sam.
"What the hell was that?"
"We need to talk."
With a grimace John jerked his head.
"About what?"
Sam jerked his chin toward the cars, "About everything. Where we goin’, Dad? What’s the big deal about this gun?"
Desperately Dean tried to step between the two other men. Smiling he nudged his brother in the ribs.
"Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires."
"Your brother’s right, we don’t have time for this."
Sam persisted.
"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Obviously, something big is goin’ down, and we wanna know what!"
"Get back in the car," John said, shoulders rigid with fury.
Sam shook his head.
"No."
Pushing against his younger son John said, "I said get back in the damn car."
"Yeah. And I said no."
Moving between his father and brother again Dean held up a hand.
"All right, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we’re all tired. We can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on."
Sam dodged his brother's hands, muttering under his breath,
"This is why I left in the first place."
"What’d you say?"
Sam turned back to John.
"You heard me."
His father grasped the front of his shirt, pushing.
"Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam, you walked away!"
Now Dean was pissed glancing from one man to the other he hissed,
"Stop it, both of you!"
"You were the one who said ‘Don’t come back’, Dad. You’re the one who closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off you couldn’t control me anymore."
"All right, stop it, stop it, stop it, that’s enough!" Dean broke them up. He turned to his father fisting the front of John's shirt. "That means you, too."
Dean stood under a tree looking down the hill at the farmhouse far below. His brother was hunched over behind him. Carefully Dean pulled a machete from the trunk of the Impala handing it over to Sam. He glanced behind him to where his father stood looking over the weapons in the box hidden under the false-bottom of the flatbed of his truck.
With a grin Dean said,
"Hey Dad we have an extra machete if you need it."
"No thanks I got one." John pulled a large stainless-steel blade out of black leather sheath. "So….you boys really wanna know about this Colt?"
Slightly surprised, both Dean and Sam stopped what they were doing and turned to their father.
"Yes, sir."
John nodded. "It’s just a story, a legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel’s letter. Back in 1835, when Halley’s Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun, a special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say, they say this gun can kill anything."
The inside of the farmhouse was still and silent. The vampires were sleeping in hammocks fastened haphazardously around the room. The two younger men moved through the room finding one slim blond girl tied to a beam near the door. Dean hurriedly tugged down the gag stuffed into her mouth. He reached out to untie the ropes fastening her hands.
John left the girl to the boys, as he crept into the bedroom. On the bed beneath one of the windows were two vampires, one male and one female. He slipped silently into the room. The Colt was on the nightstand and John smiled. Quietly he crept forward picking the gun up. With a cold calculating glare he raised the machete over the female vampire's head.
Suddenly the other room erupted into chaos as the girl Dean was untying began hissing and screaming. The male vampire on the bed jerked away looking up at John. He cursed and backed away tucking the Colt into his pocket before running from the back room.
"Boys!" John yelled, "Leave her. Run!"
Dean barreled out of the door with his brother following close behind. John turned to the path away from their vehicles, running in smooth ground eating strides up the hill toward the open meadow, now brightly lit by the late morning sun. He knew that once the vampires scented him and the boys they'd never give up. All he needed was to get the boys to safety and store the gun. The vampires would come after them, but John was fairly certain that they wouldn't risk coming after them in bright daylight Grinning John caught up with his sons, watching as Sam covered the ground in an easy loping stride. Dean dropped back to his father.
"Dad, they're coming."
John whirled. "What…I didn't think they'd follow us in the light. Stick close together we'll swing around and work our way back to the cars."
Nodding Dean pushed Sam back down the path following after the older man. Just as John turned the male vampire hurled himself at the hunter. He hit John mid-chest with a shoulder and the human staggered back. John's foot slid off the path and into empty air. His arms came up and he made one attempt to grasp anything to keep from falling. Overbalanced John plunged over the edge of the cliff and tumbled head over heels down the side of the hill. He hit the bottom of the hill with a grunt rolling over a few times and slid into the thick under brush.
Far above him, the vampires surrounded Dean and Sam hustling them back to the farm. The female vampire turned to her mate.
"Luther, don't you think we should get the hunter?"
Shrugging Luther grunted.
"His scent is fading. He'll probably be dead by the time we get down there, or gone. We still have these two, Kate."
Grinning Kate touched Dean's neck.
"We'll take these two first anyway. They can help us find and kill the old man."
When John regained consciousness he rolled over hissing in pain. With trembling hands he pushed up feeling his knee pop into place as he struggled to his feet. Groaning he limped to the path. With a panicked expression John quickly patted down his pockets and found the Colt still in his jacket. That would discourage the vampires from coming after him right away, but the boys were nowhere to be seen.
Cursing under his breath John made the trip back to the farmhouse but it was empty. He struggled up the hill. His truck was still there, locked. And the vampires must have been in a hurry because it was untouched, but the Impala was gone. Fear seized John's heart. The vampires had his boys. With a frown he pulled out his cell phone looking at Dean's number when it flashed on the screen.
John started to call, but then clicked the phone off. The vampires might not dispose of the boys' cell phones and that gave John a way to track then. The soft red earth of the road had deeply embedded tire tracks. John knew the tread was from the Impala, without a doubt. Turning the truck around he began the long journey to find his sons.
Pulling out his cell phone John placed one call. He was a little hesitant considering that he had pissed Bobby off enough that the man had threatened to shoot him the last time they'd been together. But John knew that was just show, and masculine pride. Bobby hadn't taken John's rejection easily. And as bitchy as it was, John knew he had the older man twisted around his little finger. Bobby wouldn't turn him down.
The phone rang and then Bobby's whiskey-roughened voice was on the other end. Taking a deep breath John growled,
"Bobby…it’s me. I need your help."
The hesitation on the other end made John smiled, and then Bobby rasped, "What's the matter Johnny?"
Wincing John thought about telling the older man to not call him Johnny, but it wouldn't do any good anyway and he was the one come begging for help.
"Vampires took my boys. I want 'em back."
The sharp indrawn breath still caught John by surprise. But he was gratified when Bobby said, "You come on straight to my place, you hear. I'll call Jim Murphy he's got a few books on vampires I need to see. Don't you go after them until I can meet up with you."
"I'm on the road after them. I got to get my cell phone tied into the gps system in Dean's phone. I'm going by the cell phone company next town I get too. I'll call you again."
"Be careful, John," Bobby said softly. John flinched, feeling tightness in this throat.
"I will, Bobby…and thanks."
The cell phone company was more than willing to tie John's phone into Dean's gps once they saw the Federal Marshal's badge. John used the signal to track the boys as the vampires moved toward South Dakota. At first John panicked thinking that they were after Bobby, but then he realized the movements were aimless, and the boys would never lead the things to their friend. In a way it made John's job a lot easier. Each day they got closer to Bobby's where John wanted to be anyway.
The older man had told John that he was meeting Jim Murphy half-way between the two men's homes to pick some books. John was angry and impatient when Bobby wasn't back when he said he would be. He sat on the bed in his hotel room waiting for the other man to call. When the phone rang Bobby was on the other end.
"John, I just finished meeting with Jim Murphy, I got the books. You realize that the longer the boys are with the vampires the more likely it is that they'll be turned. But there are theories that vampirism, like lycanthropy, is a virus and can be cured. Wait for me."
"I can't Bobby. Look I’ve been tracking the vampires they’re, not too far from Durham. I think that the boys might have been steering the vampires toward your place hoping I'd follow and get you to help me."
Bobby nodded, although he knew John couldn't see him. "Sounds like Dean alright. I'm going to drive all night, John just wait for me."
"I can't make any promises."
"Goddammit, John…" Bobby hissed. "I'll be there come morning. Just wait for me."
John flipped his phone closed, fuming. Bobby was slow moving, but thorough and John knew the other hunter was right; still it didn’t sit well with him to just stay put. It was past midnight though and while John could track at night if he had to, it was far easier in the daylight. His head was swimming from exhaustion anyway, and he knew he wasn’t fit to drive. He need to rest, but sleep was hard to find.
Grunting he rolled over and headed for the bathroom; a warm bath might calm him down. He ran the tub full of water as hot as he could stand it and sank down. The corded muscles in his back and neck began to unwind, and John sighed. Picking up the soap he slicked his left hand and grasped his dick. John felt a little guilty doing this when his sons were gone, taken away, but he was no good to them exhausted. He needed to relax enough to sleep for a few hours.
Taking a firm grip John sat about working himself to orgasm. He didn’t bother with anything fancy just good old fashioned stress relief. Still it took a little while, and by the time he felt his balls drawing up the water was turning cold. Struggling into a more upright position John tugged once hard enough to hurt, and came over his hand.
Standing on shaky knees he grabbed a towel wiped his hand down and belly down and dried enough to put on clean boxers and a t-shirt. He slipped into the bed and fell back, mind still clouded with fear.
Morning found John still nervous but the sleep had cleared the fuzziness from his mind. He was focused and ready to move on. He grabbed some pastry and coffee at the Seven-Eleven as he gassed the truck and slid his journal over the hood, looking at the rough map he had sketched out as he followed the vampires’ movements. They were in some industrial park in a little nothing town called Ridley, right down the highway from Bobby’s place. John smiled as he climbed into the seat.
John crept through the dark building casting a quick glance over his shoulder. The hall was silent, no signs of the vampires. Somewhere in this place were his two sons. There was a whispered hiss, the sigh of exhaled breath, followed by murmured words. Cocking his head John slid to a halt, the noise was directly ahead, somewhere down the long corridor. Gripping the machete in his hand the hunter took a deep breath finally admitting that he may have been mistaken in refusing to wait for Bobby to join him.
The voices stalled out and John grimaced in displeasure. Taking another deep breath he plunged into the room raising the weapon. Standing in front of him were his boys. The tightness leeched out of John’s spine and he actually slumped over slightly before glancing back down the corridor the way he came.
Sam looked at his father, grinning a little. John was too relieved that the boys were safe and uninjured to worry about the odd little smirk that crossed his features. Dean was standing behind his brother, eyes sparkling with laughter. Both younger men watched intently as their father hurried to where they stood.
Head tilted to one side Dean moved close to John taking a deep breath. The older man frowned when his son stepped into his personal space, almost pressing against the John’s side. He shifted, suddenly anxious. Dean licked his lips and John slid back another step, coming abruptly into contact with his younger son’s chest. Sam’s hands came up resting on John’s shoulders and his father flinched, turning awkwardly, trying to keep Dean in sight as well as Sam.
“Sammy, your hands are cold.”
He smiled wanly, eyes flicking from Sam’s long, slim fingers to his face. The younger man’s expression was cheerful; down-right jovial given the circumstances, and John felt that flicker of unease settling over him again.
Sam’s fingers rested against his father’s skin, thumbs pressing the knobs of his spine, long forefingers touching the pulse points in John’s throat. With a long sigh Sam pressed hard enough to make his father cringe in pain.
“Sammy?”
“Hush, Daddy,” Sam hissed, soothing his father with a touch. John flinched again; it had been a lot of years since either one of the boys had called him Daddy. Sam had held out the longest. Until his teenage years had done away with that little nicety. When all their conversations seemed to end in raised voices and slammed doors.
Quickly one hand slipped from John’s neck falling to his side. The long fingers were back, hooked in the waistband of John’s jeans, pushing the material away so that the tips could brush over the silky skin of his father’s hip.
John stiffened, elbow coming up to connect solidly with his younger child’s belly. Sam chuckled, not at all deterred from the movement of his hands over his father’s body. Dean grinned at John, stepping close as well. Dropping his head he leaned in close to John, sniffing. The older man smelt of soap and shampoo underlain with the aroma of masculine sweat that had dampened the fabric of his shirt. Beneath the scent of sweat was the muskier scent of semen, and Dean grinned knowing that meant his father had masturbated earlier that day.
With no warning his hand snaked out grasping John’s left wrist. In spite of his father’s grunt of surprise he pulled John’s hand up inspecting it closely. John’s face went livid red as if he understood what Dean was doing and why.
“Does it make you think of her…when you feel your ring on your dick?”
Jerking his arm John tried to step back, but Sam was a solid weight behind him, and his younger son’s body kept him pinned between the two younger men. Dean smirked, licking a long stripe up the center of his father’s palm. John swallowed nervously but his older son merely cocked his head.
“I wonder what it would taste like from the source.”
“Dean, stop it. That’s not funny,” John hissed, anger coloring his cheeks now. Dean's face morphed into something like a contrite expression, but John was too good at reading him. He knew that smirk, had been on the receiving end of it too many times when Dean showed up reeking of beer, stale smoke and the warm scent of a woman.
Trying for the dignified high-ground John shrugged Sam's hands off and side-stepped his older son. He almost made it when Dean grabbed his father's wrist and wrenched it, turning his arm over hard. John cried out in pain as the younger man forced him to his knees. Face level with Dean's groin the older man was forced to look up. The light must have been playing tricks on him because it seemed as if his son's eyes flashed silver in the deepening gloom.
Sam dropped to his knees behind his father pulling John's wrists out of his brother's hands holding them behind John, keeping the older man still with the weight of his own arms pressed tight against his sides. Leaning in, the younger Winchester pressed his nose into the dark curls at the back of his father's neck. John's hair ruffled against his skin with the quiet exhalations of his younger son's silent laughter. Rubbing his nose through John's hair Sam opened his mouth and flicked his tongue against the sweat dampened skin of his father's neck. John hissed in a breath, panting a little, and the uneasy feeling he had churned into gut-wrenching fear.
"Sam, you need to cut that out right now. You're really starting to piss me off. I don't want to fight with you and Dean, and we need to get the hell out of here before the vampires get back."
Dean smiled down at John's upturned face.
"Get back, Dad?"
John's eyes widened when Dean bent at the waist fingers sliding under his father's chin. Tilting John's head to the side he looked at the vein throbbing in his neck. Sighing Sam leaned closer and Dean's eyes gleamed with maniacal glee.
"Just a little, we don't want to go too far. I think he can be of good use. At least, I intend to use him. How about you little brother?"
Sam ran his tongue over his teeth then bent his head to John's neck. Dean muffled John's half-strangled shout of pain with his hand watching as his brother sank his teeth into their father's neck. Bright crimson welled up under Sam's mouth, spilling in thin streams down to the collar of John's t-shirt. The older man stiffened, back arching, pressing the back of his head against his younger son's shoulder. With a smile Dean pushed Sam away, slapping him when Sam hissed and snapped at his brother's fingers.
"That's s enough, we don't want him dead. At least I don't. One of the girls in the other room is still alive, go finish her off. I want some Daddy and me time."
Sam rose, growling, but patted John on the head. Without a word he jogged down the hall and disappeared into one of the doors at the far end of the building. Dean regarded his father with a quiet, still, face, standing almost motionless in front of the other man. Almost gently he knelt down raising John's head so that they could look each other in the eye.
"Dad, all I ever wanted was for you to love me. Not even as much as you loved Sammy, after all he was the baby. Your baby and your last tie to Mom. I understand that, understood it then. But you could have shown me a little more love and affection."
"I'm not that kind of man, Dean. I thought you understood that, even your mother had problems with me on that account. I don't do touchy-feely crap. I never loved Sam more than I loved you, you have to understand that. Please…I showed Sam more affection because I favored you so much. I thought it balanced it all out. I guess you can't weigh things, can't show one and not the other. I always thought you understood I got you. I never really clicked with Sam. Somewhere along the way I forgot you were just a little boy too. I leaned on you, and I'm sorry Dean. I really am."
"Don't be Dad. I love you; let me show you how much I love you."
Leaning forward Dean pressed his lips against his father's. John tried to turn away, tried to fight the growing nausea cramping his stomach. Dean's hands were like iron bars on his arms, holding him secure, keeping John from moving back.
When Dean released him John sagged backward retching. Watching silently he gasped when Dean stood fingers going to the fly of his jeans. The sound of the zipper lowering was explosively loud in the still, darkened room and John dropped to his hands and knees trying to crawl away. But Dean was too quick.
He grabbed John's ankle slamming the older man down on the floor with bone numbing force. John grunted as the air was forced out of his body. With a moan he kicked out one booted foot catching his older son squarely in the thigh. Snarling, Dean hauled his father bodily to his knees, lacing his fingers in the older man's hair.
"Open your mouth Daddy. You know how to use it when you want to lie and cheat. You know how to use it to make me feel like shit. Now you're going to use it to make me feel good."
A sob broke in John's chest.
"Please Dean, you don't want to do this…"
"Oh Dad, you have no idea what I really want. So open your mouth and do exactly like I tell you 'cause Sammy's way more interested in seeing you bleed than I am, but I'm willing to work with him on that one. You need to do this right, I'll even tell you what to do."
John was held immobile by the hands on his shoulders, fingers digging painfully into the hard muscles. Dean's legs were spread one knee pressed against each of John's arms, and the older man had both hands against his son's thighs struggling futilely to push away.
The rough matt of pubic hair pressed against his nose was musky smelling, and rasped against the four day's stubble on his chin and upper lip. John gagged at the intrusion of the length of hard flesh into his mouth. His lips were stretched, aching, and he had a little trouble drawing breath. Briefly John considered biting, but as if Dean could read his father's mind he laced the fingers of one hand in the dark curls and pulled, lifting John's head as much as possible with his cock shoved down the older man's throat.
"I wouldn't, we aren't the only ones left, Sammy and me, and I can only justify keeping you around and alive if you're useful to me. Right now you're being useful. You're pretty good at this, have you done it before?"
John shook his head and Dean grinned.
"I bet you're a virgin the other way too. Ever spread your legs for anybody, not even in the jungle when nobody was looking and you could laugh it off as stress relief?"
John shook his head again, eyes flashing toward the wall. He felt Dean's cock growing impossibly hard in his mouth and fought down the panic as his breath was cut completely off. Then there was a rush of bitter tasting fluid and his head was released from the vise-like grip. Retching John turned away and vomited what little he had in his stomach.
"Not bad, you must be a natural born cocksucker. Too bad Bobby never got the joy of breaking you in. I mean, we all know that's where the two of you were headed, Dad. I know he wanted to pop your cherry. I bet you would have let him too."
Shivering John hunched over and then cast a sideways glance at his firstborn child.
"Dean please, you and Sammy need to come away with me. Maybe there's a way to fix this. I know Bobby said he thought that this was a virus and that there could be a way to reverse it. Just like he believed with lycanthropy."
"Fix this, Dad? What the hell are you talking about? This ain't broke so there's no need to fix it. I want this. Do you know how much power I have? How much I can get from this? I just got big, bad John Winchester to bend his stiff neck and suck my cock."
John took one shuddering breath, narrowing his eyes and launched himself off the ground throwing a shoulder into Dean's chest. There was a satisfying collision of muscle to muscle and John felt the shock wave jarring him all the way to the bone. Dean staggered back and for one minute the older man thought that he might be gaining the upper hand.
The chuckle that Dean let loose was as soulless and dry as the chilled night wind. Smirking at his father Dean raised one hand slapping John across the face. It was just an open handed slap but it was almost a knock out blow. John flew back landing in a heap on the floor. Hissing a curse under his breath he rolled coming up onto the balls of his feet hoping to dodge the next blow he saw coming. But he was too slow. Dean's fist impacted with his father's cheek, splitting the skin and sending droplets of blood splattering across the wall.
His father's head rocked back, slamming against the wall and John was out. He crumpled and fell. Dean hauled the older man up carrying him close against his chest. The scent of the blood still leaking sluggishly from the cuts on John's face sent a shiver coursing down his spine. Carefully Dean carried his father's unconscious form into the room where his brother was still lazily drinking blood from a small dark-haired young woman.
Sam looked up as Dean leaned back against the wall cradling John's limp body in his arms. He frowned.
"I thought you didn't want to kill him. You wanted a pet, and now you broke it already."
"He isn't broken, at least not all the way. I can't say what'll happen before I get finished with him. We need to move out. I'm pretty sure the red-neck hillbilly will show up sooner or later. No matter how pissed Bobby always got at Dad, the idea he might get into his pants someday kept him hanging on."
When John woke he was laying on a bed. The sunlight was streaming in the big bay window on the side wall and the smaller windows flanking the bed. Rolling over John jerked his leg and winced at the pain that jarred his spine. He flipped back on the blanket and noted that his right ankle was fastened to the wrought iron bed frame with a length of blue nylon rope.
John quickly slid one hand down his bare leg bending at the waist until he could wrap his fingers around the knots tied at his ankle. They were tight, too tight, and John knew that he would never be able to free himself. The door to the room opened and a young blond woman walked in. She was pale skinned, wearing dirty jeans and a torn shirt, and John was sure she hadn't bathed in a few days.
Something about the wan, colorless look to her face led John to believe that the vampires had been feeding on her, and he flinched as she struggled with a wooden tray bearing a covered dish and a large mug of coffee. He flushed when he realized that he was naked, but other than her eyes brushing over his body listlessly she didn't react. Dragging the blanket over his lap John took the tray from her.
"Dean wanted me to bring you this."
"Where are they now?" John asked.
She shrugged shaking her head.
"Get me a knife and I can get us out of here. I have a friend; he's probably looking for me by now. If you can get me a knife or even a gun, I can get loose. I'll take you out with me."
The girl looked at him with flat, lifeless blue eyes. Her face twisted into a sneer.
"Why would I want to leave? They told me that they can make me one of them, make it so that I never grow old and die. Why don't you just get with the program?"