Body and Soul Pt 2 John/Dean FRAO WIP
Body and Soul Pt. 2
Author: Linda Atkinson
Fandom: Supernatural
Parings: John/Demon (non-con not explicit), John/Dean
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: Major AU. John and Dean are not related so no incest. M/M sex, some violence
Many thanks to Sioux _Sioux for the wonderful beta work on the story.
Summary: John is pursued by a Demon in his dreams who turns out to be a lot closer than he suspects.
John stood behind the row of houses on the cul-de-sac at the end of Tyler Lane. It wasn't the house that had burned. That was a few blocks down, but he and Dean had run across another problem that they had to deal with before they went to the wreckage of the other house.
They had been eating at Granny's Diner half listening to the jukebox and trying to monitor conversations around them when Dean had touched John's arm hushing him. Behind them at a table sat a family of four, Mom and Dad and two kids. That was nothing unusual, but John was struck by an odd feel to the bunch, and after a few minutes he finally got it.
The man looked worn and pale, dark circles under his eyes. He kept glancing warily at the two children tucked between him and the woman. John let his eyes wander over the kids, they were no older than seven and ten at the best. The woman kept patting the younger of the two as if she was making certain that the child had not moved. Finally, she leaned over and whispered harshly.
"I know what I saw, Dan. It was Jamie. I swear I saw her last night standing outside the door to Nate and Carrie's room."
She looked as if she dared him to contradict her. But John could tell that he had seen the girl as well from the way Dan had dropped his head.
Dean stiffened and grabbed John's sleeve jerking his chin in their direction and John could see the wounds on Dan's neck. Red and raw, jagged teeth marks marring the skin of his throat just above his carotid artery.
After a minute John had risen from his seat and walked back to the couple. He kept his voice down, and they stared at the tall, dangerous looking man who voiced what they had only been thinking.
So John and Dean had spent the rest of the day in the home of Dan and Marie Palma. They had found out that the Palma's thirteen year old daughter, Jamie, had died the previous week. Pernicious anemia the doctors had told them. They had spent weeks doing tests for all kinds of generic disorders, looking for any reason why Jamie was dying from massive blood loss, and came up with nothing. Some of the doctors had wanted to still do more testing, more research into Crohn's Disease, but in the end it hadn't mattered Jamie had died anyway.
Marie hadn't wanted to believe their stories about vampires. She looked like she really wanted to laugh at these two strange men, but something wouldn't let her. She only knew that since Jamie's death her husband seemed to be falling ill in an almost identical manner as their oldest child.
She only seemed to calm down when she watched John bless a glass of water and dip the wooden rosary he carried in his pocket into it. Marie gasped and cried when John poured holy water on her husband's neck. The white steam curled into the air, and Dan had screamed.
Now Dean was staking out the front yard and John was leaning against the garage just out of sight of the kids' bedroom window facing the back yard. Dan and Marie were waiting inside the den just behind the salt lines that John and Dean had poured around the house and across the doorjambs.
Suddenly something moved in the yard, John could just hear the faint swish of some frilly fabric in the cool breeze. He leaned around the garage and caught sight of a figure standing just outside the thin circle of light falling on the grass from the open curtains of the sliding glass doors. He could see into the house, and caught a glimpse of the girl's parents' tear stained faces.
The figure moved with a quiet grace that was totally unnatural for a teenaged girl. With a giggle the girl danced, whirling in the pale light.
"Momma," she whispered.
John could see Marie cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out. Dan put his arm around her shoulders.
"Momma, Daddy let me in. I'm cold out here. Don't you want me back?" Jamie asked with a gentle smile on her face.
She moved across the rear porch and put her little hand on the door handle. When she saw the salt she paused.
"Mommy, why don't you let me in? I'm so cold and hungry. Please Mommy don't you want me home again?"
John stepped out bringing his hand up from his side. The light gleamed on the blue-gray blade of the machete held in his fist.
"No, they don't want you here."
The girl turned on him hissing when she saw the weapon.
"Get away from me, old man."
John smiled moving between her and the door. He could see the stricken look on her parents' faces as he stalked forward. Jamie made a jump for him, but John dodged and slammed his left fist into her body. The punch would have taken down a grown man, but it barely slowed her.
Marie screamed when the big man struck her baby girl. Throwing off her husband's arm she shoved the door back and ran into the yard. John saw her and swung around holding up his hand.
"Dan, get a hold of her. She's going to either get in the way or get herself killed."
Dean jumped the fence on the opposite side of the yard, behind the vampire. She whirled hissing like a stay cat. Dan managed to grab Marie's arm and tug her away from the two men, away from the thing that had been Jamie.
Trapped between the two hunters the girl stuck at the closer man. John dodged her clawed hands and managed to get his foot up against her chest. With a grunt he shoved the small body back against the tree pinning her in place. She grasped his leg beneath his jeans, drawing her nails down his shin, ripping the flesh in wide gouges. John cried out and Dean moved around him and the girl behind the tree seizing her wrists from behind and pulling them against the tree trunk. John turned toward Jamie's parents.
"Go inside, you don't want to see this.
Dan tried to pull Marie into the den, but she shook his hands off. She stood panting torn between the bleeding man with a machete in his hand and her baby. Dean was struggling with the vampire, and he glanced at the older man with a panicked expression on his face.
"John, I can't hold her."
Drawing a ragged breath John appealed to the couple on the porch once more.
"For God's sake go back inside because I have to do this. You won't be safe if I don't."
Dan cast one desperate glace at the young man struggling to hold his daughter's slender body against the tree. His face was scraped raw in places and the muscles in his arms stood out against the thin material of his black t-shirt with the effort of holding her back. John limped forward the leg of his jeans already dark with blood. Ignoring the two people behind him he raised the machete and swung. The hollow sound of the blade biting into the tree trunk was echoed by the woman's scream.
He staggered back as she pushed past him, falling on her knees by the crumpled bundle of white taffeta at his feet. Dean quickly gathered up the severed head, and tucked it against the little girl's body trying to preserve what he could of her parents' memory of their child.
Marie straightened slapping John across the face.
"You, you're nothing but a damned cold hearted bastard!"
John dropped the machete by his side, staring down at her.
"Yeah, and then some."
In the end they wrapped the little girl's body in a clean blanket that her father brought out to the yard. He stood looking at the wounded exhausted men, not speaking. Walking over to him Dean pulled Dan's collar back. The bite marks on his neck were healing now, cleaned by the holy water and the final disposition of the undead thing feeding on him.
John opened the trunk of the Impala and Dean carefully loaded the body inside. They could still see the haunted faces of her parents staring at them from inside the house, so they didn't bother going back. Dean pulled out of the driveway, and onto the road.
There was an out of the way wooded area not too far from the housing track and Dean turned off the road onto a dirt track that wound around a fenced pasture before dropping behind the tree line.
He parked the car just off the path and John and he unloaded the blanket wrapped bundle and dug a fire pit in a cleared area surrounded by trees but relatively free of underbrush. After they had salted and burned the body, they packed the tools and gas can in the trunk and slid into the car.
John had his head in his hands and didn’t notice when Dean pulled the car over in a secluded area just below the pasture. He looked up.
"Did you forget something?"
Before he could move Dean leaned over the seat and grabbed him by the front of the jacket pulling John bodily across the seat and into his arms. He mouth was hard against John's lips, but John managed to work his hands up and around the younger man's shoulders. His leg was throbbing and he knew that he should get the wounds clean, but John slid down in the seat until his head and shoulders were pushed against the door, and the handle was digging into his neck. Dean got his fingers in the waistband of John's jeans and tugged the buttons free spreading his fly. He grinned when John's cock bobbed out framed in a mass of dark brown curls unhindered by underwear.
John moaned when Dean leaned down swallowing his cock to the root. Dean's nose brushed his pubic hair and John grasped Dean's neck using his hands to push the younger man's mouth farther down on him.
"Oh, holy shit!" John barked, and Dean laughed around him.
The vibrations caused John's leg to jerk and he hit the steering wheel, rocking the car around them. Dean didn't bother slowing down. John's back arched up and he pushed his foot under Dean's chest trying to get the other man to let up. But Dean just sucked harder, and John came in a hot rush. His head was spinning when Dean leaned back unfastening his own jeans. He grabbed John's limp hand and shoved into it. John fisted him, and worked Dean's cock like it was the last thing he was going to do on earth. It took Dean less time to climax and he dropped back against the seat gasping for breath.
John lay back disheveled and sweating.
"Are you going to do that every time we kill something?'
With a grin Dean tugged his jeans closed and wiped a hand across his mouth.
"Yeah, probably."
"God, I think I'm a dead man."
They staggered back to the motel a little after midnight. John soaked his leg in a hot bath after they took a shower. Finally, Dean dropped the lid on the toilet and held John's leg across his lap while he stitched the worse of the cuts. Neither one bothered dressing and Dean forced half a Vicodin on John before they climbed into bed.
Sometime later John came awake he sat up squinting at the clock on the VCR by the television. He wasn't sure what had awakened him but he had salted the windows and drawn a devil's trap on the floor in front of the door. The wind had picked up and John could hear the branches on the trees whipping against the glass pane. He glanced back but Dean was a vague man-shaped bundle under the blankets.
Taking a deep breath John limped into the bathroom and ran a glass of water from the tap. He took a long drink and winced at the flat metallic taste before tossing the rest down the sink. With a grunt he moved as quickly as he could to the window. Leaning forward he pressed his sweaty cheek against the glass feeling the cool air pull the heat out of his face. From far away John thought he could hear a child-like voice floating on the breeze. He cocked his head and the words rolled over him, sending a shiver down his spine.
Little pig, little pig let me come in,
Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,
Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in.
A figure rose up in front of the window, and John gasped. He moved so quickly that John hadn't seen him walking up. If Dean hadn't been in bed behind him John would have thought that the younger man had gone outside. He leaned closer to the glass trying to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but the moonlight behind the figure kept his face blanketed in shadow.
Suddenly the man raised his hands, bringing them down against the glass with enough force to rock the window pane in its frame. His eyes flew open glowing yellow in the dark night. John tried to jump back, but the window shattered sending glass shards tinkling to the floor. Fine boned hands clutched at John's arms jerking him forward and the man's teeth closed on John's neck, pain coursed over him. He struggled but the man dropped one hand to John's bare hip, his fingers raked over John's skin and pulled a scream from his lips.
The sound of the scream still echoed in the room when John bolted upright in bed. Dean jerked in his sleep and threw the blankets back.
"John, John - honey, wake up."
"Did you just call me honey?" John coughed out.
He rubbed a hand over his face, then bolted from the bed and limped into the bathroom. He bent over the toilet and retched bringing up what was left of his dinner. Dean stood in the door propped against the frame until John swung around and dropped the toilet lid sitting down hard as his leg gave.
"Do you want me to go to the drugstore and get you something for your stomach?" Dean asked.
John shook his head. He looked embarrassed and Dean offered him a gentle smile.
"So, did you really call me honey?" John whispered.
Now Dean looked embarrassed.
"Uh, yeah, sorry."
Shaking his head John laughed.
"Just don't do it in public, I've got a reputation to maintain."
"Oh yeah, you can’t be a stone cold bastard if someone calls you honey."
"So do I get to call you baby?" John said with a tight grin.
Dean waved a hand at him.
"I was thinking something more along the line of Studmuffin myself."
John looked at him sideways.
"Not if you had a gun to my head."
Sunlight leaked through the blinds as Dean rolled over. Glancing at the other man still asleep in the bed he rolled onto one side. John looked exhausted even in his sleep. Dark circles clearly visible under the dark fan of lashes lying against his cheek. Dean leaned over tracing one finger across the arch of thick lashes smiling when John twitched in his sleep.
Sighing Dean rose and staggered into the bathroom to pee. When he was done he turned the water on in the shower and moved the knob over until the water was hot. Steam rose in the air circling above the shower curtain and disappearing into the ceiling vent. He jumped involuntarily when a hand fell on his shoulder. Turning he smiled at John.
“Sorry, got to take a leak.” John said grunting.
Dean looked down at him. And John flushed.
“Go ahead.” Dean leaned back against the sink, making a downward motion with one hand. “Do you want me to hold it for you?”
“That would definitely interfere with the process. I’ve never been able to pee with a hard-on.”
Dean just grinned at him but made no effort to move from his stance by the sink.
“Do you honestly want to watch me take a piss?”
John looked horrified. Dean just laughed. Quickly he moved behind John pressing against the older man’s back.
“You’d be surprised at what turns me on,” he hissed in John’s ear. John shivered.
At first he thought he wouldn’t be capable of doing it. He was one of those people who needed privacy in the bathroom. He had never even been able to share the bathroom with Mary. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and cut loose. By the time he was finished he was half hard. Dean slid his hands down John’s hips and pushed him forward until he was leaning with hands against the wall and his legs straddling the toilet. John grunted when Dean shoved into him.
Dean thrust into him so hard that John had to brace himself against the wall or risk having his face planted in the tile above the toilet. Moaning he dropped his hand to his own dick and tugged. Dean stilled and rested his chin on John’s shoulder leaning forward to watch the movements of John’s hand on his own body. He licked his lips and muttered,
“That’s it jerk off for me.”
Dean slid his arm up under John’s left armpit, and bent it around his upper body clasping the older man’s neck in his palm. He lifted pulling John up onto the balls of his feet, arching his back. John groaned from the burn in his legs and abdomen. His eyes closed, and his lips parted breath coming in short quick pants. With a grunt his hand worked his cock furiously, skin slick and red. Dean pressed his mouth against the side of John’s neck working his teeth over the skin just beneath the course three-day growth of stubble. When he had the mark as dark as he wanted he slid his lips over John’s shoulder biting into the tight muscle. John’s hips jerked forward and he came against the toilet tank, a thick smear dripping on the shiny ceramic surface.
Dean dropped his arm from around John’s neck, and the older man sagged forward, hands braced on the top of the toilet. Dean spread him open with his knees between the other man’s knees and thrust almost viciously until he came.
They locked the room and went down to the diner across the street for a late lunch. Dean couldn’t help but grin when he noticed how gingerly John sat down. He flushed and grinned back.
“A little reminder of who you belong to, John.” The younger man smirked.
John’s cheeks colored.
“So what now?” Dean asked.
“I think we should head over to Tyler Lane again and go through the wreckage. I don’t know how much damage was done inside, but from the outside it looked like the lower floor of the house is still pretty much intact.”
“Yeah, at least we can take some EMF readings and check for sulphur traces,” Dean replied.
The waitress came to take their order and John couldn't figure out why she kept staring at him until he went to the restroom and looked over his appearance in the mirror. When he saw the hickey on his neck he went rigid. Finally, he relaxed. So what if the girl kept staring; he didn’t really mind people knowing that he and Dean were together. Maybe she was just envious anyway. She did it again when she brought out their food, depositing the plates on the table. Out of spite John leaned forward just enough to give her a good look at the mark, and Dean winked at her reaching across the table and taking John's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She flushed and turned with a snort, flouncing away.
The food was reasonably good and they ate listening to country music on the jukebox, and trying to keep an ear on conversations going on around them. John finished off his beer, and settled back waiting for Dean to finish eating. They walked back across the street and decided on taking Dean’s car. The big Impala roared to life and Dean pulled into the street.
The crime scene tape was sagging and dew damp, mildewing in places, and it parted easily under the blade of Dean's hunting knife. He pushed the door open wincing as it grated over the half buckled cement foundation in the entryway. The living room was sooty and waterlogged but reasonably intact and Dean swept the EMF meter around the room. The device never budged. Shrugging he tucked it into is shirt pocket.
John was using q-tips to wipe different surfaces through the lower floor. When had collected a few sample he took a flask of bluish colored fluid out of his bag and poured some into one hand. Raking the swabs through the fluid he held one up to Dean.
"Sulphur traces,” he said dropping the q-tip on the floor.
Dean nodded as John packed up the flask.
"So it is a demon. I've been to a couple of other places that had fires and where kids were missing. Do you think this is the same demon?" Dean asked.
John nodded. "I've been looking for the son of a bitch for twenty years now."
"Why?"
"You asked me about my wedding ring. I was married once. We were only married for eighteen months but god I love her. Her name was Mary and we grew up together, went to high school together, the whole thing. I got her pregnant prom night and we got married still in school. We had a little boy, and when he was six months old this happened to us. I came into the nursery one night and found Mary gutted and pinned to the ceiling burning up. I tried to reach her but I couldn't. She burned so fast and when I went to get Sammy out of his crib he was gone. I keep tracking this demon trying to find my son, get revenge for Mary dying."
"I'm sorry, John. Sorry as hell that had to happen to you."
"Yeah, so am I. But that's all over. Now I just hunt and keep hunting trying to kill every one of these bastards that I can. Why do you do it?"
"Nothing like you, I just sort of fell into hunting by accident. I do it now for the same reason you do to get rid of the riff-raff."
"That's a funny way of looking at it, but it works for me."
So what do we do next, work the newspapers or the county offices?"
John sighed. "Both. Let’s hit downtown at the courthouse. You check the newspaper archives and get copies of any old articles that relate to the fires. I'm going by the county recorders office and check property deeds on all the houses that burned. I've got the addresses from the old newscasts."
"Okay, I'll drop you off at the recorder. You're probably going to have to ask for copies to be made. I'll check the archives and pick you up in an hour," Dean said.
John nodded picking up his bag. They made their way out to the car, and Dean pulled into traffic. John smiled as he watched the scenery whiz past.
"This is the same demon, Dean. I know it. I'm going to find the bastard."
Dean cast a sideways glance at the older man.
"We're going to find him, John."
TBC