The Sound of One Hand Clapping FRT John/Bobby
The Sound of One Hand Clapping Pt 1
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, John/Bobby some implied Sam/Dean
Warnings: Complete AU, non-explicit M/M sex, violence, angst, OOC behavior
Summary: This is my version of what happened to John after he made the deal with the YED in IMTOD. It's John get's sent to the Twilight Zone. I was reading another story which gave me the idea, and although this story is nothing at all like that one I did want to mention that reading it sparked my interest in the notion of sending John to another dimension.
Note: Based on the headstone in What Is and What Should Be I gave John a middle name. I named him after my Dad, who was Hubert Eugene, and was the only man I ever met who had the good grace and sense of humor to look his daughter and prospective son-in-law in the face and say “If you have any mercy at all never name one of your sons after me.” The older of my two sons has my maiden name as his middle name, so I hope that would have made him happy.
The floor was cold and gritty under John's back, and he briefly considered that a hospital really should be cleaner than that. For a few brief seconds John could see the boys’ shocked and pale faces at the doorway then a crushing pain seized his heart in his chest. He tried to cough, tried to draw a breath, tried to say he was sorry, but it was too late. All John could do was watch through a thin gauzy curtain of pain as the doctor and orderlies hefted his rigid body onto the bed and rushed through the process of trying to save him. He was beyond salvation he wanted to say, but that didn't come out either. His vision grayed out and a single sound stabbed into his brain.
Thrashing John came awake, chest heaving as he drew in a deep breath. Rolling over he glanced around. The room was dark but not unnaturally so. John could see the faint shimmer of moonlight through the pale cotton curtains hanging at the single window in the far wall. The bed was large, mattress firm, but still unfamiliar enough in feel that John knew, from long experience, that it was a hotel bed.
He rose, hands shaking, and walked across the room tripping on a duffle bag that blocked the door to the bathroom. Gulping in a deep breath John flicked on the lights and stared at himself in the mirror. He gasped. John was looking at himself, recognized himself but there was something fundamentally different. His hair was still dark brown, with fine threads of gray. He was clean shaven, skin smooth and evenly tanned, but untouched by the elements. It was his face but years younger in appearance.
Groaning he ran a glass of water from the tap, wincing at the flat metallic taste, and gulped it down. A sound from outside caught John's attention and he slapped the glass onto the counter where it wobbled and almost fell. He caught it with one hand then stopped again.
On his left hand was a wedding band, but not the one he had worn for almost thirty years.
This band was silver, with a single gold thread wrapped around it, and above the band was another ring also silver and gold but bearing three diamonds. John gaped, recognizing it as an engagement ring. Mary's engagement ring had only one stone in the center but this ring was clearly made for a man.
A quick glance at his right hand had John dumbfounded. He was wearing not only another ring, this one some intricate sigil with red stones, but a bracelet as well. He had never worn this much jewelry in his life… afterlife? He was distracted from his hands by the door rattling in its frame.
Eyes narrowed John cast around the room looking for weapons. There were two duffle bags in the floor one he recognized as belonging to him. The other seemed familiar as if he might have seen it somewhere before, but he couldn't place it. On the far side of the bed,, shoved into a corner was a smaller bag filled with herbs, crystals and oils. All the supplies needed for casting spell and incantations. Other than that the floor was bare.
Hissing a curse under his breath John darted to the bedside tables pulling the drawers out. He sighed when he found a Glock and a few extra clips inside. Picking up the gun John moved to the door. The rough circle of rock salt crystals on the floor gleamed in the faint thread of light spilling out of the bathroom. He was careful not to break the line.
The door shook again but this time the sound was accompanied by the rattle of a key in the lock. John backed up, holding the gun aloft, and hoping against hope that he would find that yellow-eyed bastard in his sight when the door opened.
There was a single figure standing in the door cap pushed back, dirty flannel shirt and ripped t-shirt reeking of decomposing blood. John gagged then frowned. He had never had a sensitive stomach before, not in all the years he had been hunting. But clearly this body, although his, had some quirks to it he hadn't figured on.
Bobby took one looked at him and the gun leveled at his chest and broke into a big grin.
Shuffling the cap off his head the older man raised one hand in mock surrender.
"Okay, big bad John don't shoot poor ol’ me."
John huffed out a breath and stepped back, letting his arm go slack. Bobby growled at him.
"Baby, you ain't supposed to take my word that it's me. What'd we talk about the last time you came on a hunt with me. Don't take any chances."
Baby?
John blinked; clearly he must have misheard the other man. With a grimace he stepped back when the other man leaned in close to him in passing. John skirted Bobby and shut the door bolting it for good measure. Bobby grinned at him again.
Shucking his flannel shirt Bobby plopped down in a chair and began stripping off his boots. The smell faded as each piece of clothing fell away. John raised an eyebrow. He and Bobby had never been what anyone would call overly modest, but they hadn't gotten so far as to stripping down in front of each other either. When the other man's boxers hit the floor John flinched.
"I'm going to get a quick shower, baby. Why don't you go on back to bed?" Bobby said quietly.
There was that 'baby' thing again.
John had climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers before he realized two things: one he was wearing silk boxers and a sleeveless undershirt, and two there was only the one bed in the room.
He was sitting against the headboard with all the pillows propped beneath his back when the door to the bathroom opened and Bobby walked out, naked as the day he was born. John could feel his jaw unhinge, but he couldn’t summon the motor skills necessary to close it again.
But Bobby just trundled up to the bed and slid in beside John as easy as you please and that was it. Whatever the hell was going on here John had had it. He put one hand against Bobby's bare chest and shoved, cringing at the damp moistness of the other man's skin. Bobby frowned and looked down at the large fingers splayed against his paler chest.
"Awwww, come on, baby. Don't be like that. I know you're upset, but me and Jim's boys got that son of a bitch that's been killing them kids. We couldn't have done it without you backing us up magic-wise. So don't be mad."
Before John could open his mouth the other man had grasped him firmly by the arms and pulled. Bobby's mouth came down over John's and the other man's tongue pressed against the thin, angry line of his lips. John gasped and Bobby took it as an open invitation and dove right in.
Clearly things had just taken a turn for the surreal.
John shoved and Bobby broke the kiss sliding back a few inches. His face was contrite and John felt a thin glimmer of guilt. Bobby didn't know what was going on, but then John obviously didn't either. Before he could say anything Bobby leaned back, folding both arms across his chest, and that's when John saw it.
On the older man's left hand was the glint of silver. John took Bobby's hand holding it out against his own pressing their palms together so he could compare the rings. Bobby's band was thicker, but the same silver wrapped in a thin thread of gold.
Holy shit, he and Bobby were married…to each other.
Bobby must have taken the gesture as an apology because he twined his fingers through John's and pulled him forward again. Their lips met and Bobby's big right hand came up sliding around the curve of his skull. With a sigh Bobby leaned down pressing his forehead against John's.
"Feel like giving me a little lovin', baby?"
"What?" John asked freezing in place, "You want sex now?"
"Come on, mad or not you know I love you, John. You know that I can't get near you without wanting to get inside that tight ass of yours."
Flinching John bolted. Jumping out of the bed and holding up a hand as if to fend off the other man.
"Bobby, just how long have we been married?"
"John, are you still mad because I forgot our anniversary?" Bobby asked sitting up. "Cause I am real sorry about that."
Rolling his eyes John took a deep breath. Clearly he had had an entirely different picture of Hell. But sex with Bobby Singer probably meant he was in the eighth circle or better.
The problem with that though was that John was alive, very clearly alive. He had a heartbeat, could feel the warmth of Bobby's skin, hear the other man's heartbeat when they were pressed close together. So if he wasn't in Hell proper, where was he?
Looking over at the other man John could see the hurt confusion on Bobby's face. This Bobby…wherever he was from… seemed to be deeply in love with his husband? Spouse? John felt his head spin. Stumbling forward he collapsed on the bed beside the other man. Well, it wasn't like John had never had sex with another man, although it had been in Vietnam and more than thirty years ago. Except that wasn't right. Not in this place. Here he was married to another man, Bobby Singer to be exact, possibly had never even been to Vietnam. If that was different how much more of his life had changed?
Suddenly Bobby was by John's side rubbing the younger man's shoulders. His eyes were so full of love and concern John felt like a jackass. He let Bobby take him in his arms, and snuggled against the other man's chest. Bobby stroked his back and John lay still letting himself be petted.
"If you don't feel up to it tonight, it's okay. I know you've been pulling some long hours getting that location spell set up and cast. I'd be just as happy to just hold you a little while."
Sighing John was grateful for the reprieve, but it couldn't go on too long. He knew that this was some cosmic prank at the expense of a one John Eugene Winchester, but just who was calling the shots. Not the yellow-eyed bastard for sure. If he was making all the decisions then John would be slowly roasting over an open fire right about now. So something somewhere had changed the terms of the deal. John felt a surge of panic rising inside him. Would the demon think that John had reneged on the agreement? Were Dean and Sammy still safe and alive?
This new body betrayed him and John felt a hitch in his breathing and then the slow stream of tears on his cheek. Grunting he tried to turn away. He had never been prone to open displays of emotion but somehow he just couldn't stop the waterworks once they started. Bobby must have felt the change in John's breathing, caught the stuttering hitch of a sob. With softly murmured words he gentled the other man. John was horrified.
Finally, he shuddered and sat back. Wiping at his nose with the towel the other man fetched out of the bathroom John felt ashamed.
"God, I'm sorry Bobby."
"It's okay, baby. You being so sensitive is what makes you open to the flow of power, makes you so good at using magic. You can't fight your genetic make-up. It's why I fell in love with you from the beginning. And for the record we've been married for thirty-four years. I thought I'd better catch you as soon as you got legal before somebody else snapped you up. And our wedding anniversary is April 26th."
John frowned; if he and Bobby had been married thirty-four years then they must have married before he even graduated from high school. April 26th was just four days after John' s birthday. Thirty-four years ago on April 22nd John had turned eighteen. In this place he had never been married to Mary, never had his boys. Maybe this was Hell after all.
Looking at the other man's earnest blue eyes John felt himself softening a bit. It was clear that this Bobby loved him very much. And somewhere inside this body John felt that he loved the other man in return.
"Let's get some sleep. You're all strung out, I know how hard casting a location spell is and how much energy it drains right out of you."
John nodded not knowing what else to do. The two men settled back into the bed, Bobby spooned around John's back. John listened to the older man's deep even snoring until he slid into sleep wondering just where he'd be in the morning.
The tunnel was dark and damp, moss clinging to the deteriorating brick walls. John recognized the place; a shape-shifter’s lair. How many years had it been since he was here? The boys had been in high school then, but this place had a different feel to it. Frowning John cocked his head. From far ahead he could just make out the sound of voices carrying on a conversation.
John set out walking again and he could tell from the strain in his legs that the path had turned upwards. As he rounded the bend John could see the faint glow of blue-white light, and the rough ground beneath his feet smoothed out. The way became easier.
The tunnel opened into a doorway, a broad stone arch high above his head. He stepped into the light. Across the room John could just make out the faint forms of two beings. One he knew, although he couldn’t see him clearly, was the demon. John felt his blood boil.
The second figure he didn’t know, though the voice seemed familiar, but it shifted; first sounding male then female, then nothing earthly that John had ever heard. The demon was strident, voice shaking with anger and, for once, when dealing with him, John smiled.
“You’re changing the rules mid-game…” he snarled.
The second voice chuckled with amusement, and John felt a sudden sense of peace and warmth flood his body.
“I don’t play games.”
“Oh please, you’re the Grandmaster of all games.”
The second voice ceased to sound amused.
“Be that as it may, I Am what I Am. I never changed the rules, and you knew them from the very beginning. A soul has to be beyond all salvation to belong to you. Even bargained for. If you wanted his you should have crafted a better deal. You made one big mistake, taking his soul in exchange for the life of his son. You could have had the gun, which really doesn’t matter to me. You got greedy. But a soul given in sacrifice for another is my purview.”
“He made a deal.”
“He played by the rules. Greater love has no man than that he lay down his life for another. That’s my deal, and it supersedes all others. This is my call and I’m making it.”
John stepped into the light. He saw a flash of amber as the demon turned towards him, grinning, smile as toxic as John remembered. Stepping back he faded from view until John thought that maybe only his smile would remain, just like that other slick, smiling cat.
“You caught a break, John-boy. But I’ll still be out there. That world or this one, I’ll be out there waiting.”
The feeling of warmth increased, not unpleasantly so, and John felt his muscles lengthening and relaxing, felt the strain and tension leeching out of his body. The figure was deep in the light now, shimmering, shifting at first tall and slim, definitely male, then smaller and more female.
The voice shifted and changed as well.
“You gave your life to save your son. To protect the other son. You fought my fight whether or not you wanted to believe it or believe in it. I can’t give you back what you sacrificed for that would shift that life from it predestined path. But I can give you another life. It isn’t what you had; in fact, it is as far from that other life as possible. You alone know anything about the other line of destiny on the fan. You have a second chance John use it well”
A wide stripe of sunlight was falling across the bed when John awoke with a start. Movement behind him caused John to wince again. He rolled over and studied Bobby’s broad back. The other man was still asleep and John settled back considering the dream…vision… he had just had. As he had done for years John twisted the wedding band on his finger, feeling the cool metal slide across his sweat dampened skin.
Glancing down he flinched at the ring, it was well-used, metal a bit thinned around the rim, obviously worn constantly. With a sigh he looked at the other ring, it was gold and he belatedly recognized it as a Solomon’s Key, a devil’s trap, and knew instinctively that he wore it as a guard against possession. Just as the devil’s trap carved or painted on a surface would keep a demon in, this portable version would keep a demon out.
Cautiously, so as to not wake the other man John pushed the blankets down inspecting Bobby’s body for a ring, but he found nothing. Then John noticed that on his right shoulder Bobby had a tattoo, the key. So it was common here. He wondered why he wore a ring and not a tattoo and made a point to remember to investigate that when he had a chance. Lifting his arm John studied his wrist and the bracelet he wore. He remembered that his mother had worn something like it, and other than the size it was remarkably similar. She called hers a tennis bracelet, his was gold and diamond. It looked expensive.
Sliding around John pressed his fingers gently against the other man’s shoulder trying to get him to roll over enough that he could see the tattoo. Bobby shifted rolling onto his back with a grin. John felt his stomach clench; it was pretty evident that Bobby was feeling ‘frisky’. There was no mistaking the obvious bulge under the sheet.
Licking his lips John sat back. Well, thirty years wasn’t that long a time. He could do this, it wasn’t odd here. They were married after all. Taking a deep breath John leaned over letting his lips linger on Bobby’s mouth. The older man let out a laugh, working his fingers into John’s ribs. John shouted falling back, apparently not everything had changed. Blanketed by Bobby’s warm, hard body John felt right for the first time since he had awoke earlier that morning.
Afterwards they lay side by side. John sighed, he knew that it should feel wrong, and yet this body knew Bobby’s touch, wanted it. And Bobby knew every soft spot, every place that made John’s body sing with pleasure. Still riding the tide of his orgasm John lay still eyes closed listening as Bobby slid lazily from the bed, and shuffled through his duffle bag for clean clothes.
“We’re meeting Jim’s boys for breakfast although truthfully it looks like it’ll be lunch before we pack it up and get out of here. I’ll wake you for a shower when I’m done.”
John stood looking at himself in the mirror. Wincing he sighed. The clothes he had found in the duffle bag were his, at least they were his size, but nothing in the world could have made John wear these things in any other dimension.
Glancing at the door he wondered idly if he could get Bobby to go out and buy him some jeans and a t-shirt. As it was John was dressed in kaki Dockers and a pink polo shirt, one of the ones with the little alligator on the pocket. And loafers, brown leather loafers. It wasn’t that the clothes weren’t nice. In fact the stuff he was wearing probably cost more than all the clothes he owned, before. Still he shuddered and opened the bathroom door.
Bobby smiled at him, and John felt an irrational stab of anger. At least Bobby looked normal in a sort of LL Beane kind of way. Same clothes just better quality. John looked like a Ken doll dressed by a demented six year old. He sighed again casting one longing look at Bobby’s flannel shirt and black t-shirt. Smiling, Bobby winked at him. John rolled his eyes. Oh great, the old bastard thought John was flirting with him.
“Can I wear your flannel shirt?”
Bobby blinked.
“It doesn’t go with your clothes. “
John was desperate.
“I’m cold.”
“I’ll get your sweater out of the truck.”
Sweater?
Bobby returned holding out something. John cringed; the sweater was pink too, drag-queen Barbie pink. Hissing he pressed his fingers against his temple, it was going to be one of those days.
They packed everything up in a sleek blue pick-up that looked brand-new to John. Apparently hunting was a lot more lucrative in this dimension, time-line, wherever the hell he was. Bobby locked the door following John across the parking lot.
The diner was small, old, and looked like it was populated by mostly elderly people. As a matter of fact until Jim Murphy’s sons, and John could only assume that it was Jim Murphy, showed up he was the youngest person in the place including the waiters.
Bobby asked for a table for four and motioned John into the booth smiling at the waitress bearing the coffee pot.
Gratefully John picked up the mug inhaling the rich aroma of the fresh hot liquid. He took a sip and turned the menu over looking at it although, truthfully, he didn’t even need it. When the older woman appeared again Bobby ordered, not only for himself but for John as well, and he didn’t miss a thing. John was impressed, and a little chagrined. Not even Mary could have done that. He flinched, saddened by the thought. John had had so little time with her. But apparently he and Bobby had had a better marriage; of course, they’d done it for thirty-four years instead of the mere six he'd had with Mary.
The door opened again but he was so absorbed in studying the people around him he missed the two younger men approaching the table. When the older of the pair slid into the booth John looked up. His heart lurched. Dean grinned at him across the table. Alive whole, Dean…his son. Then John closed his eyes, not his son.
In the pale late-morning sunlight filtering through the window John could see the subtle differences in Dean’s face. Yes, he still looked like his mother, but apparently he also had a bit of his father’s looks as well. John could see Jim’s eyes in the more hazel shade of Dean’s, not the clear green of his and Mary’s. Sam also sat down offering John a warmer smile and nod.
“Good morning, John. Did you sleep well?”
He cringed at the sound of his name coming out of Sam’s mouth, but once again not his child. Jim’s son was giving him a curious look, a tiny frown playing on the corners of his expressive mouth. Sam’s gaze flicked to Bobby then back to John. He didn’t miss the slight shrug Bobby shot Sam in return. So his odd behavior was not going unnoticed. John huffed out a breath and looked down at his hands. Maybe they would just pass it off as nerves; apparently he didn’t accompany Bobby and the boys on hunts very often. That left him wondering just what the hell he did do.
If he wasn’t a hunter here, in this place, what value did John possess? If he had never been married to Mary, never lost her, then why did he pursue this life? Other than the fact that his husband was a hunter, a good one from the looks of it. Here things had changed radically for John, yet there was a familiarity to this all. The people, the places they hadn’t changed enough to be wrong. And this body he inhabited knew this place, had a feel for it. It was enough to drive him insane.
They ate in silence, the boys and Bobby discussing the finer points of tracking werewolves, and didn’t even bother lowering their voices when people passed by. Apparently hunting was a legitimate profession, and the boys and Bobby felt they had nothing to hide. That alone was mind boggling to John.
As Sam and Dean talked with Bobby John listened intently, gathering a lot of information about their lives. The older men, Bobby and John, owned a business together although John ran the actual business end of it, while Bobby hunted with the two younger men. He groaned. If their livelihood depended on him sitting on his ass in an office all day, they were doomed.
John tuned out the rest of the conversation between his husband and his best friend’s sons focusing instead on the newscast on the TV. The reporter was gushing over some Academy of Magic that was accepting candidates for training in the magical arts. Glancing down at his right hand John gasped as he recognized the Solomon's Key ring he wore as also being the school ring of the very same academy. So John had studied magic. He made a mental note to himself to check out the school on the net as soon as he could.
Lunch was quick and quiet with both younger men saying that they wanted to get home between hunts. Bobby nodded like the patriarch of the small ‘family’ and John supposed that both boys looked to the older man for guidance in hunting. Bobby was obviously well known, if the whispers and stares of the other patrons were anything to go by.
Finally, one young boy, around twelve, slipped close to the table. He grinned as Bobby turned and offered him a brief smile.
“Mr. Singer…would you sign your autograph please? My dad says you’re the hunter that took out those werewolves in Dallas last week.”
Bobby shrugged, but signed the paper napkin the boy shoved at him.
“I don’t work alone Dean and Sam are a big part of the team, I’m getting a little old for it all now.”
Dean laughed.
“Don’t let him kid you, boy. He’s still the number one honcho around here. Me and Sam just do the heavy lifting when the bodies hit the ground.”
Bobby looked inordinately please and John huffed, “Oh please…Dean. He’s hard enough to live with as it is.”
Bobby squeezed John’s shoulder and kissed him on the ear. The boy giggled and blushed.
“Yuck, mushy stuff.”
Turning to the two younger men the boy offered the paper again.
“Please you, too?”
Sam watched as the boy scampered away with his treasured autographs.
“Who wants to lay money they end up on E-bay by lunch?”
Dean chuckled, “God you’re a cynic.”