Fic: Time's Trouble Past This Point 1/1 For: wizefics
Title: Time's Trouble Past This Point.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Terminator or Supernatural in any form.
Characters: John Connor, Dean Winchester.
Words: 7216
Recipient: wizefics
Prompt: No rest before dawn/before sunrise.
Genre: Het/Slash/Threesome
Fandom: Terminator Saga/Supernatural
Pairing: In order: Connor/Kate, John C./Dean, Connor/Dean/Kate.
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language, Angst, Violence, OC Deaths, Sexual Situations.
Summary: A mission in 2024 goes wrong and 2004 John Connor's life is never the same.
Author's Note: Fused Dean from SPN to T4/T3 verse. Title is deliberate.
______________________________________
"At night...I dream about a world that no longer exists. I dreamt of my mother and wondered: was there ever a time that she was happy? After she knew? ...those are the ones I fear the most."
2024 - Former City Of Lawrence, Kansas.
"All right, you know the drill here." Keeping his voice low, Connor met the stone gazes of each of his team members. Only that part was visible from the padded ski masks they wore. "Keep radio traffic to a minimum, we know they are monitoring."
"Shit." From the back of the pack, the youngest team member singled himself out. When a few of them sent glares his way, he rolled his own eyes in response.
Connor exhaled through his nose, biting his tongue against his initial response. "If you can't handle this, then head back now. Your usefulness only extends to the point where you get my men killed."
That made the young man straighten up. Narrowing his eyes, he took a step towards Connor. "Don't threaten me, Connor. You sought me out!"
"I asked for your father, boy." When he received only a glare in response, Connor felt a small thrill of satisfaction. He hadn't made a mistake. "You'll take point with Marchetti. Keep to hand signals and remember your training."
"I know what to do. My 'dad' taught me well." Hands clenching around the barrel of his laser rifle, the teen gave no other sign he was angry. Even his voice was calm and steady.
"Good. See that you remember your training and not get yourself killed." That done, Connor turned to the rest of his team. None of them even looked half as mulish as the young man. Relief made him sigh. "All right, the rest of you know our target. Follow Winchester's lead and heed his signals." As much as it galled him, Connor turned once more to the youngest. Anxiety lowered his voice to a growl. "Lead on."
"For the record, I think this is a complete waste of time." Carefully pronouncing the last words, Dean checked the power pack on his weapon. The indicator light blinked to signal everything was working and fully powered. He sighed, then looked up at the team. "Let's go."
~~~~~~~~
Rushing down the corridor, Connor kept checking his six. They had left the last of the seeker drones behind about two buildings ago. Yet, he couldn't be too sure. The fuckers were getting smarter.
He caught the flash of a finger tips and drew up close behind his team as they queued up to a corner. A twinge in his chest made him clench his jaw as he noted they were down two. There was no telling who it had been this time. Their suits were designed to make them all look alike. All except Dean that was, his smaller frame was easy to make out.
Ahead, Dean leaned forward to put the tip of a mirror around the bend in the corridor. He raised a hand, four fingers up.
They had found something worth guarding.
Clenching his hand in to a fist, Dean punched towards the far wall. He signed for a small alcove on the other side, slightly down the corridor. It was a good place for a sniper to lay down suppression fire and provide backup.
One of them had to head for it.
Connor watched the man next in line rush across to the far side. When nothing shot at him, he exhaled with relief. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
The tension coming in to this mission was far worse than it had been in years. Kate had blamed that on the fact that he wasn't completely in charge. He couldn't accept her logic, but wisely had kept his mouth shut.
Dean was next, his laser at the ready just in case. His smaller figure slipped through with greater ease.
For a moment Connor wished he had the body of a teen again. That lasted all of a second when Dean tripped over his own two feet.
Nearly crashing to the ground, the only thing that spared Dean was the first man's quick thinking. He fell face first in to open arms. The man didn't give the teen time to react before jerking him back in to the small cubby hole.
Only discipline kept Connor's tongue in check. As it was, he mentally promised to cut the clumsy little bastard's dick off if he survived this one. Taking command, he tapped the two guys ahead of him on the backs to get their attention.
They turned as one to stare at him.
He used two fingers to indicate they should rush around the corner, bypassing the niche. It was time to get on with their mission. Following Dean had taken its toll on his temper.
Simultaneous nods meant their orders had been received. Raising their laser rifles, they hesitated for a count of three. Then they jumped around the corner. Their weapons blazed to life as they fried the drones ahead.
That left him and one other.
Connor signaled the man to stand behind him. They would protect their exit and keep it clear, stepping out only to watch the fight. If he could get off a shot, he would take it. This was the hardest part of the mission; letting others do the fighting.
~~~~~~
An explosion rocked the entire compound causing the Earth to shake. Connor managed to keep his feet only from years of practice. His joints ached from all the stop and go efforts, but he refused to let that hinder his progress. They still had a mission to accomplish!
He came to a halt at a junction. There were three possible ways to go. Anyone of them could lead to the cells. Another explosion echoed in the distance, this one much smaller.
The charges they had planted in the reactor were almost done. That meant the machines wouldn't be distracted there for much longer. They were running out of time the longer he stood there. This called for some drastic changes.
Turning around, Connor faced the remains of his team. His gaze landed on Fernelli, Bozeman, and then the runt. He frowned. What he was planning went against team protocols for this mission.
It meant that they most likely wouldn't be coming back, even if they did succeed.
There was no time to think about that, though. Connor pointed at Fernelli and then to the right corridor. He did the same for Bozemen and the left. That left the kid with him. He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating that Dean should follow him.
Checking his grenades, he made sure there were plenty just in case. He watched as the others did the same. The mission now counted on what amounted to suicide runs.
Looking at their faces, Connor could see the acceptance in their eyes. Bozeman and Fernelli had known what they were getting in to when they agreed to come along. No man came back from bad missions every time. It was just part of their life.
That left the kid, though. Dean hadn't been briefed about this. When he looked to the teen, he found only resignation.
Connor nodded at him. That was all they had time for. It was all he allowed them time for. Because, then he was turning and rushing off down the corridor. He could hear Dean's boots following along. There was no looking back.
He had said his goodbyes to them before the mission began. And if it came down to it, his Kate knew he had loved her too.
~~~~~~~~~~
Firing his laser, Connor viciously took the head off another skin model. The charred flesh burned away to the base of the neck before he released the trigger. He didn't have time to savor the kill before he had to fire at another target. Three lasers blasts came his way at the same time, making him drop to the ground.
Rolling, he fired in the direction of one. A small explosion indicated he had taken out the wall battery, but the two ceiling cannons remained. He had to roll again to avoid being melted to the floor by their blasts. This time he ended up behind something that was still smoking.
He wasn't exactly sure what had been in the tank when he blew it, but the fluid was all over the ground around him. It smelled faintly of petroleum, but he ignored it in favor of rising up and firing again.
Connor took advantage of his firing to try and locate the kid. "Dean?" Taking aim, he fired at one of the remaining ceiling batteries. "Dean!"
The shot missed, and the battery returned fire.
An explosion in front of him made Connor drop back. "Dean, answer me!" There was no response to any of his calls. Clenching his eyes shut, he took a calming breath. He should have listened to the god damned kid.
"There's a small chamber back here!" The kid's voice echoed in to the lab. It sounded tinny and distant.
"Where the hell are you?" Keeping the relief out of his voice was easy. Anger was his primary motivation as Connor sat up again. This time, he didn't bother taking aim. He just fired, again and again.
A hail of sparks fell from the ceiling as the last two laser batteries exploded.
"I don't know!" Dean sounded more angry than confused. His voice was a raspy whisper, as if from a speaker. "One of those metal dicks grabbed me and shoved me in here."
"Well, where the hell were you before you got locked in there?" Standing up, Connor groaned. His joints popped in several locations. "And if you say 'I told you so,' I'm going to leave you there."
"Very funny, Connie!" A banging came from the far side of the lab. "Get me the hell out of here!" This was emphasized by two more thumps.
For the comment, Connor considered leaving the bastard in there for a little while longer. It would serve him right and might actually teach him a valuable lesson.
With a sigh, he took in the devastation of the lab. The bottoms of once large tanks lined the room. Their blue liquid contents now marred the floor, making it gummy as it dried. It was funny, the machines had been careful to avoid hitting them until he had hid behind them.
The thumping came again. "What are you doing out there?"
"Keep your pants on." Snorting, Connor continued his study of the lab's remains.
Several smaller vats were in the center of the room. These had contained a metallic colored liquid. That was now gone, the glass from the vats scattered on the floor around them. What was strange was that he could not remember when they had emptied.
"Connor!" Dean's voice was higher in pitch. Panic had obviously started to fill the edges of his voice.
Connor ignored him. This was important. That wireless transmission they decoded had contained vital information.
"Are you fucking with the lights?" This time he sounded distant, his voice distorted by a bad connection.
"Would you shut up! I'm busy out here." Connor searched for any sign of labeling. There had to be something to indicate what function this lab served.
"Con..." The teen was suddenly silenced by static.
All around Connor, the lights suddenly began to dim. They buzzed as their power source began to waver. Spinning on his heel, Connor turned to face the location where he had last heard Dean's voice.
On the far wall lay an intercom. It was lit up in several places, but they too began to flicker on and off. A red indicator light began to flash.
Something inside squeezed Connor's heart. He was distantly aware of starting towards the controls. "Dean? Can you hear me?"
"He...me!" The speaker sparked and the entire panel exploded.
Above him, the lights flickered one last time then shut down. Connor winced at the sudden darkness. Almost unnoticeable at first, a roaring began in the lab. It quickly sped up until it became deafening. His hands shot up to cover his ears but the noise was too much.
Connor fell to his knees, screaming Dean's name. He couldn't even hear the word in his throat over the roaring. The room began to shake around him.
Then, suddenly, everything went quiet.
With a loud groan, a hatch embedded in the far wall cycled open. Smoke and steam belched out the moment it parted at the seams. Inside the chamber was filled with bright white light. At the bottom were a set of clothes, including boots, weapons' belt, and a laser rifle.
Connor recognized them. He started to chuckle nervously. Dean had found what they had been looking for.
~~~~~~~~~~
2004 - Great Plains Region.
The burning sun had begun to set over the horizon. Even so, the mirage of heat rising off the ground still shimmered in the air. Putting a hand up to block it out, John watched the road trail ever onwards behind them. It was always beautiful to him, evoking a bittersweet feeling.
Even though he knew the end of the world had been averted, there was still that part of him that expected to find it around the next bend. Every mile that he put behind him was one less he had left until then. That seriously depressed the fuck out of him. Not as much as running out of beer, though.
Looking down at the empty can in his hand, he shook it just to be sure. When he heard nothing over the roaring of the wind, John sighed. So much for even this small comfort. He tossed the can out over the side so that it would land in the ditch.
There was a job lined up for him here for the next week. It paid enough to get him out of BFE and on the road to nowheresville. That was the fun of being an aimless drifter, he had no real place to go.
He wasn't even real sure where he would have gone if he did. Raising his eyebrows, John shook his head. Obviously he would have been going there if he had a place to head. Still, there was no place he was wanted.
There were a few people he knew from back in the day, but they weren't real big on reunions these days. A lot of them had families to think about. John was something they would have had to explain. Little Susie or Little Tommy didn't need to know what their mommy and or daddy had been up to in a previous life.
So, when the promise of the coming apocalypse hadn't panned out, they went to ground and turned to seed. At nights, when he allowed himself to think about it, he heard the whispers in his dreams. It was an illusion. This was all just some big fevered dream. The real world was out there, waiting.
Skynet lurked in every shadow, biding its time until...
John shook his head. None of it was real. Reaching down between his legs, he grabbed another beer from the six-rings. It cracked open with a satisfying snick. He watched it foam for a second before taking a sip.
This was real. Cold and bubbling against the roof of his mouth, that was perfect. There would be no doomsday. They had won. His mother had died knowing this and it was okay.
Everything would be fine.
~~~~~~~~~
Staring at the outside of the bar, John felt reluctant to take another step. There were far fewer people than he had expected for a Friday night. Yet, it wasn't the size of the crowd that held him back.
It wasn't his clothes. His work outfits had been left hanging in the bathroom to dry. These were clean, even if he had washed them in the motel bathtub.
He wasn't even sure why he had come out tonight. There was plenty of beer waiting for him back in the motel room. Sure, it was a pretty rundown place, but it had cable and clean sheets. What more could he have asked for?
His back pocket weighed heavy with the size of his wallet.
A stiff breeze blowing through his slicked back hair made him shiver. He should have at least waited until it had dried from the shower. He didn't regret taking it. After all day working in the fields he had been more than ready to wash the stink off.
Loud music began blaring inside. Even from this distance he could almost feel the beat. Beer was flowing freely from the tap he knew. It was the perfect place for him to get lost in for a night. The locals wouldn't bat an eye at him, as he had been among them for a few weeks now.
There was really no reason for him to be standing across the street watching it like some idiot with a puppydog crush. He should have just gone in and had a good time. So, what was keeping him back?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing was holding him back from going in to enjoy himself.
Dropping his head, he stared at the ground. These weren't his people no matter how much he wanted them to be. In a week he would be but another memory to them. That didn't settle well with him.
Putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans, John strode off. May be tomorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~
Flipping through the channels for the seventh time revealed nothing new. It wasn't surprising, the last time he had done it was only a couple minutes ago. Every channel had a version of the same thing, original programming was obviously a lost art.
May be the world had ended after all and this was just their version of hell. Instead of demons or robots, reality programming was the eternal tormentor.
Pressing the power button, John turned off the television. Darkness filled the void left behind. A few blinks later and his eyes had adjusted to the dim light from the security light shining through the windows. Even the gauzy curtains couldn't block out that hideous orange shade.
He lay in the silence, listening for nothing. He waited for nothing to come. There was only the quiet of the night.
Through paper-thin walls he heard the chirping of crickets. In this wild world away from the heart of the big cities were billions of the pests. John wondered if there were crickets after judgment day. It was hard to believe they wouldn't survive a nuclear apocalypse.
Rolling over, he glanced at the clock. There were still three hours left in the day. May be if he watched them tick away it would go faster.
The blinking dots in the center continued to count down the seconds. It went on forever before the numbers changed. Tomorrow would come eventually.
Eventually.
~~~~~~~~~~
A soft thump echoed in the motel room. Blinking, John was instantly awake. He kept his body posture relaxed and his breathing even only from years training. Body taken care of, he listened for more.
He didn't have to wait long.
There came a quiet dragging sound as a window was slid open. The noise was slightly muffled, as if it wasn't in the same room. Only one place it could have come from then.
Raising his head, John glanced over at the bathroom. The door was partially open, enough that he could see the toilet tank.
A shadow blocked out the light coming through the window. It moved slowly as it cast shadows across the floor and wall. Then, suddenly, the shadow disappeared. This was followed by the slap of flesh on tiles.
Someone had landed on the bathroom floor!
Ever so carefully, John slid across the bed to the nightstand. He tried not to make a sound but the bed springs groaned under his shifting weight. Freezing, John watched the doorway for movement.
There was none. The shadow had stopped under the window.
John could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had been preparing for this type of situation all his life. His training was waiting under the surface, even after all these years. He knew that the other was aware of him. The only question was did they know he was awake.
After several long breaths, the person in the bathroom started moving again. Their shadow fell over the doorway but came no further.
Relief made John relax a little. Carefully, he slid a hand over to grab the gun off his nightstand. Holding his breath, he fitted his palm to the grip and raised it. A measure of confidence filled him, giving him the strength to move.
He climbed off the bed quiet as he could. John needn't have worried as the person was more interested in something in the bathroom. Over the noise of his own breathing he heard the sound of metal clanking against metal and tiles. It took him several steps to realize what the noise was.
What he heard were hangers being dragged across the shower pole. Someone was stealing his clothes!
Anger flooded through him, making him tense. His cheeks burned as he realized it was just a common thief and not some killer robot from the future. This only served to fuel his rage. Hand clenching around the grip of his pistol, he plodded to the door. All sense off stealth was lost.
He wanted the bastard to hear him coming.
It worked too. The shadow stopped moving and his clothes stopped rustling.
Raising the gun, John kicked the bathroom door all the way open. He started to take aim until something caught him across the shoulder. Knocked around, he smacked face first in to the rebounding door. The last thing he knew was flying back towards the toilet.
~~~~~~~~
There was a tight stinging in his face. Moaning as he slowly came around, John tried to sit up. Constriction around his arms and chest made that impossible. The attempt to get free jarred his shoulder, sending a flare of pain through the muscle. "Ahh!"
"So, you're awake." The stranger sounded none to pleased about that. Flicking open the blinds, he peered out the window. "At least you got a good recovery time. You've been out for less than an hour."
Flexing his cheek muscles, John winced. The entire right side of his face was now a solid bruised mass. He could already feel it half swollen up. Taking a shuddering breath, he experimentally opened his one good eye to look.
He was still in the motel room. Checking himself out, John found that he was tied up in his boxers to the only chair in the room. The rope was frayed in several places and smelled like engine grease. It was slightly familiar, but he couldn't place from where. That didn't matter as much as the fact that there was a stranger in his room.
Getting back to what was important, he twisted his head slowly towards where he heard the man. That just so happened to be to his right. He tried to open that eye, but found it almost swollen shut. Swallowing around the pain, he cleared his throat. "What do you want from me?"
The stranger snickered. "I just wanted some clothes. Yours looked about my size." Stepping back from the window, he ran a hand through his short hair. It was slicked back and still dripping from a shower. "Gotta tell you, it's fantastic having clean clothes again."
"You're welcome." John tried his bonds again, but found them sturdy despite the rope's condition. Whoever had tied him up knew what he was doing. "Well, you got them. Now you can go on your way and let me go."
"Can't do that." Stepping back from the window, the man turned so he could look at John. "You've got something else I need."
Before he could ask what that might be, John was struck by the stranger's appearance. For starters, he wasn't a man at all, but a teen. He didn't look older than sixteen, may be seventeen on the outside. Where John's shirt hung open on his chest, there were revealed several scars.
John knew those types of scars. He had seen several of them before. Had some of his own.
A whole new appreciation for the teen in front of him developed. That also changed his approach to dealing with him. Reason was going to be tricky because the man was determined and experienced.
Licking full lips, the teen took a step towards John. "I need some information." His green eyes were a little wider than they should have been. "Where are we?"
It took a moment for John to recall. "Uh..." He frowned as he took a quick breath. "Miracle Motel, outside of Lawrence, Kansas."
"Miracle Motel?" The teen's back stiffened as he frowned. "That's impossible. The Miracle was hit by a harvester and leveled back in o'nine."
"O'nine?" Now it was John's turn to frown. The world around him started to tilt as he grew lightheaded. It was a welcome change to the pain in his face. Taking a shaky breath, he raised an unsteady gaze to the other teen's. "You're from the future?"
Face growing pale, the teen raised his eyebrows. "That's not possible." He swallowed hard, blinking absently at nothing. "Those are just rumors."
Dropping his head forward, John groaned softly. "What rumors?" He was already tired of this.
"Skynet. They've been..." He didn't finish speaking. A second later there was a loud thump.
Raising his head a little, John saw the source of the noise.
Sprawled out over the floor was the teen. He was unconscious and breathing evenly.
"Wonderful." Sighing, John tried once more to get comfortable. He was going to be in this position for a while it seemed.
~~~~~~~~
He was sitting with his head laying on the backrest when he heard a snort. Raising his head, John groaned from the sudden pain. While he stretched out the sore muscles he noticed the other teen was coming awake.
Groaning, the teen rolled on to his side. Keeping his eyes closed, he reached up to scrub at the back of his head. "That's going to hurt like a bitch in the morning."
"Good." John took a moment to savor in the other's misery. That lasted all of three seconds because his own took precedence once more. Rolling his throbbing shoulder, he needed something to distract himself. He chose talking. "So, what year are you from?"
Stopping mid-rub, the teen opened one eye to look up at John. He looked the other up and down, letting his gaze linger in several spots before settling on his face. "Twenty, twenty-four."
"That close." John didn't want to admit the knowledge nearly scared him shitless. That was five years before they were supposed to have that technology. "How old are you?"
"What's it to you?" Scowling, the teen put a hand under him and pushed himself in to a sitting position. His blond hair stuck out in all directions making him look younger.
With a resigned sigh, John thought it best to get things out in the open. "I'm John Connor. Your being here is probably not accident."
That got an instant reaction.
Before he even blinked, the teen had John's gun out and aimed directly at his forehead. "Connor?" Eyes narrowed, he studied John's face intently. "What kind of trick is this, 'John'? Which model are you?"
"Model?" The word was almost muttered. John realized the teen thought he was one of the machines. "Hey! I'm not a Terminator!" Gritting his teeth, he glared the other down.
Snorting, the teen cocked his head to the side. "Sure, you're not." Then he frowned. "Why didn't you escape?"
"Because I'm tied up, dickhead!" John carefully raised his shoulders to demonstrate that was all the further he could move. "I am still right where you left me."
"A machine could easily break those ropes." He said the words as if they finally occurred to him. Staring at John, he blinked for several seconds. "I'm confused."
"I get the feeling that is something you're used to by now." Having had enough, John slowly eased his head back to rest on the back of the chair. After that, there was silence for a while.
~~~~~~~~~~
John was roused this time by a high pitched whistle. Groaning, he rolled his head rather than raising it to look. Soft light filled the motel room from the television. It was constant enough to be recognizable.
The station had shut down for the day.
Yawning, he twisted his head enough to look over at the bed. The teen was sprawled out over the blankets, his mouth open in a silent snore. In his hand was the remote, forgotten and half released.
Shivering, John glared at the bastard. It hadn't taken him long to adapt to this time. He considered letting him sleep so he might effect another escape attempt. The throbbing in his shoulder and face overrode that idea. If he couldn't sleep in the bed, no one would.
"Hey, asshole!" John kicked out at the bed, but his legs weren't long enough to reach. So, he settled for stamping his bare feet on the floor. "Yo! Get up!"
On the bed, the teen snorted. Shifting, he released the remote and curled on to his side.
Fire burned in John. How dare that prick? "Hey!" He shouted it at the top of his lungs in the hopes of awakening him.
The stranger's only response was to fart, loudly.
Clenching his eyes shut, John tried to hold his breath. After a few seconds he needed air and had to open his mouth to breathe. It was a mistake. His eyes began to water and he nearly gagged.
Trying to breathe shallowly so as not to inhale any more of the foul stench, John shook his head. It was the worst torture he had ever been through. The moment he got out of this he was going to kill that jerkwad!
~~~~~~~~~
Violent red had started to stain the sky by the time the teen roused himself.
John knew this because he had been watching out the window. The curtains had been drawn and the blinds closed, but there was still a gap between them and the window frame. Outside, another hot summer day was beginning.
A quick glance to the clock told John that Tony would be arriving in less than a hour. Hope flared in his chest, small and soft. His ordeal might soon be over. That is if the big jackass didn't get impatient and leave without at least knocking.
John sighed. Well, that hadn't lasted long.
Rubbing at his eyes, the teen sat up on the bed. He glanced over at the television where a local reporter continued on in her perky monologue. With a frown, he picked up the remote and muted her nattering. "No wonder Skynet blasted these people to ash."
"That's not even funny." Eyes burning, John glared at the prick. It was about the only thing he could do without the threat of getting hurt. Not that it mattered, his entire upper body was stiff and ached at the slightest twitched.
"It wasn't a joke, just a snide comment." The teen ran a hand over his face, removing dried drool and sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm tied up, not laying down, facing the alarm clock!" It was evident to John that he was angry. His voice rose when he was angry and he lost control of his temper fast when he was sleep deprived. So, he could be forgiven for wanting to rip the mother fucking, cock sucking son of a bitch's throat out!
John was so frustrated he wanted to start screaming. His back was a mass of knots and each one was felt keenly. If he wasn't released from this position soon he was going to piss himself. Groaning, he slumped forward, well, as far as his bindings would let him. He didn't care if moaned from the pain.
There was a slight chance that he was going to die here. At this point, John figured it might be a relief. Then again, that would be highly amusing. No machine could kill him, it didn't matter how prepared it had been to do the job. It would take a time-lost, inconsiderate kid with a thing for stealing John's clothes.
With a put upon sigh, the teen slid off the bed. He stood with a joint popping stretch and groaned. Dropping his arms to his sides, he started towards the bathroom, and subsequently, John.
John watched him come at him with undisguised hostility. The moment he passed beyond John's field of vision he sighed. A second later the ropes binding him to the chair fell away. Relief and blood flow came in an instant. He started to slump with a sigh, until the prickling started.
Falling to the floor, John clenched his eyes shut. His entire upper body felt like a thousand needles were puncturing his flesh. Distantly, he was aware that he was whimpering. He probably wet himself too. It didn't matter though, he didn't care.
He was free and that meant he could carry out his plan. John was going to kill that little bastard. There was only one thing stopping him, though. Turning his head to the side, he lay on the dirty motel floor, gasping like a fish out of water. Just as soon as he could move his body, the teen was dead!
~~~~~~~~~~
Coming out of the bathroom, the teen sighed with pleasure. Slung low on his hips were another pair of John's jeans. Humming under his breath, he scrubbed at his hair with a hand towel.
From his spot on the floor John continued to glare. It was a lovely spot to be sure, but he was ready to get up. "Make yourself at home, why don't you?"
"Thanks." His bare feet slapped against the floor as he made his way back over to the bed. Spinning, he dropped down and kicked his feet up. "You know, I had some time to think while I was taking a hot shower."
"You don't say." Experimentally, John tried his right hand. It curled, but only halfway closed. He sighed. A few more minutes more it seemed.
"Yeah." He nodded at no one in particular. "I think I like it here." Leaning back, he picked up the remote. "I mean, it won't last long and we'll probably see the shit go down first hand, but I like it."
John didn't like where this was going. "You are free to go out and explore the world to your heart's content."
"Oh?" He waved it off with a shake of his head. "May be later." In the middle of flipping through the channels he stopped suddenly. "Hey, you got anything to eat around here?" Licking his lips, he leaned forward to see the TV better. "Any of this pie stuff?"
Closing his eyes, John wished for a big house to drop on him. Him as in that little prick on his bed. John had no wish to die. "You realize I am going to probably kill you when I get off this floor, right?"
"May be." He was distracted, his eyes on the pie. "I'm Dean, by the way."
"Oh good, I will know what to tell them to put on your friggen tombstone." His fists clenched at his side. Slowly, little by little, John was getting feeling back in his arms.
Sitting back, Dean licked his lips. "Tombstone. I had one of those once. It was old and tasted bland. Of course, it had been frozen for fifteen years by that time. It was the best birthday ever, though. Sammy ate half the..." He trailed off with a sigh.
For a while after that John heard only silence. He knew Dean must have realized the truth of his situation. From experience, he knew how much it hurt, not that he would ever admit it. Empathizing with the enemy was something he would ever do.
"I'm sorry." Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. "For breakin' in and tying you up, and everything else. I was cold and needed some clothes. Then you came out of no where." Clearing his throat, he scratched at the thin line of hair heading down in to his pants. "Just thought I'd apologize."
Putting his face in the carpet, John tried using his chin to lift himself up. This was going to stop if he had to drag himself forward with his face.
"Besides, it was all your fault anyways." Dean sounded pretty certain of that. "If you, future you that is, hadn't dragged me on that stupid mission, I wouldn't be here now." Clicking the remote buttons, he changed the channels again. "So, the way I figure, you kinda owe me."
John wanted to bang his head against the floor.
~~~~~~~~~
Closing the door behind him, John leaned against it while he turned the key in the lock. He still wasn't back in full swing, but he had enough strength to go out. He wouldn't even be out there if he didn't have to be. There were some things he needed though.
Stretching his arms over his head, Dean flashed his belly in the morning light. His grin told that he knew what exactly he was doing. "So, where we're going, do they have burgers?"
Sighing, John considered going back inside and letting the idiot starve. He didn't really have to spend his hard-earned money on Dean. But knowing his luck, Dean would find his way back in again. It was really unfair. He hadn't even done anything to deserve this form of punishment.
John pushed off from the door with a groan. He started to teeter until strong arms came up behind him.
"Whoa there, don't want to fall over." Dean leaned close to John, pressing his cheek to John's as he held him. "You gotta move slowly until you get your strength back."
For some reason, John only nodded his understanding slowly. It wasn't like he didn't already know this. Still, he was grateful for Dean's arms around him. He liked the feel of them, not that he would admit it.
Clearing his throat, Dean swallowed. "Are we ready to go now?"
"Yeah. I think." When the other didn't release him immediately, John felt a smile twitch the corners of his mouth. "Okay, I know."
"All right then, let's go." Dean slowly slid John from his arms back on to his own two feet. Letting his arms drop to his sides, he rubbed them against his borrowed shirt. "Show me this world of yours."
~~~~~~~~~~~
2004 - Allentown, Pennsylvania.
Backpack slung over his shoulders, Dean glared at John. "I don't understand why not."
"Because, it leaves a trail." Internally, John groaned. This was going to be a point of contention between them for hours, he could see it now. They couldn't afford the hassle. The proof should have been accepted, but Dean was being stubborn.
"But...it's a work of beauty." Dean clenched his hand around the straps of his bag. He kept glancing over his shoulder back at the lot. "It's five hundred, cash. The man said he would throw in the license for free."
If one form of reason didn't work, John tried a different tactic. "It's probably stolen." The nonplussed look he received in return made him sigh. "Right, forgot who I was talking to."
"I don't steal." Dean faced forward, unconsciously crossing his arms. "I borrow."
"Then why haven't I got my white shirt back? Or my leather jacket?" For the first time, John glanced over at his companion. The road shoulder under their feet made him stumble enough that he had to quickly look back to where he was going, though.
Keeping silent, Dean started ahead at a slightly faster pace.
John had to put on a little speed to catch up. He really hated when the other teen did this. "The silent treatment isn't going to work, Dean. I know how loud you can get when excited."
Ears turning red, Dean put on more speed.
That only made John raise his eyes to the heavens and sigh. There was no reasoning with Dean when he got on something he wanted like this. What was so special about an old Impala anyways?
~~~~~~~~~~~
2024 - Los Angeles Free Territories.
Climbing out of the back of the jeep, Connor rolled his neck to relieve the kinks. They should have stopped on the way back to rest. He wasn't a kid anymore. These long trips were making his joints act up. If it was this bad now, he hated to see what it would be like in ten years.
Still, he looked around the underground garage, it was good to be home. The surviving members of his team were being greeted by the others. A few techs came over to work on the vehicle and he stepped back to give them room. The suspension joints would have to be replaced after this last trip.
The grinding of gears in a motor drew Connor's attention to the entrance. Backing down the ramp, a large moving truck began to beep. Inside, John knew was the future of their movement.
This had been a successful mission. They got what they had gone for and only a few of them had been sacrificed. By any definition that had been a success.
Yet, all he could think of were the faces that weren't coming back. Too many had been added to that list over the years. Even when they won this war, he knew the price would be too high.
Familiar strong hands slid up his back, making Connor's spine stiffen. He relaxed as they slid around his shoulders over his chest. Tugged back against a broad chest, he sighed with relief. One hand turned his face to the side so warm, soft lips could caress his cheek.
"We've missed you." Murmuring against John's cheek, Dean exhaled softly in relief. "Do you realize how annoying it is to deal with a pregnant Kate all by myself?"
"You're the one who chose to remain behind." It was said out of spite. Connor knew there had been no choice. He had been needed on this mission and someone had to stay behind with their wife.
Dean's fingers tightened around Connor's peck, pinching the nipple through the leather vest. "You're lucky I'm horny." He kissed the line of his lover's neck roughly up to his cheek. "Then again, Cas's been itching for some action lately."
"You warn that fucking pot-head to keep his hands to himself!" Hand clenching around Dean's arm, Connor turned in to the kiss. He forced the other man's mouth against his own and bit his lips.
Growling his approval, Dean wrapped his arms around the Connor's neck.
The memorial services could wait. For now, Connor wanted this, he needed it more.
THE END.............................
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Terminator or Supernatural in any form.
Characters: John Connor, Dean Winchester.
Words: 7216
Recipient: wizefics
Prompt: No rest before dawn/before sunrise.
Genre: Het/Slash/Threesome
Fandom: Terminator Saga/Supernatural
Pairing: In order: Connor/Kate, John C./Dean, Connor/Dean/Kate.
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language, Angst, Violence, OC Deaths, Sexual Situations.
Summary: A mission in 2024 goes wrong and 2004 John Connor's life is never the same.
Author's Note: Fused Dean from SPN to T4/T3 verse. Title is deliberate.
______________________________________
"At night...I dream about a world that no longer exists. I dreamt of my mother and wondered: was there ever a time that she was happy? After she knew? ...those are the ones I fear the most."
2024 - Former City Of Lawrence, Kansas.
"All right, you know the drill here." Keeping his voice low, Connor met the stone gazes of each of his team members. Only that part was visible from the padded ski masks they wore. "Keep radio traffic to a minimum, we know they are monitoring."
"Shit." From the back of the pack, the youngest team member singled himself out. When a few of them sent glares his way, he rolled his own eyes in response.
Connor exhaled through his nose, biting his tongue against his initial response. "If you can't handle this, then head back now. Your usefulness only extends to the point where you get my men killed."
That made the young man straighten up. Narrowing his eyes, he took a step towards Connor. "Don't threaten me, Connor. You sought me out!"
"I asked for your father, boy." When he received only a glare in response, Connor felt a small thrill of satisfaction. He hadn't made a mistake. "You'll take point with Marchetti. Keep to hand signals and remember your training."
"I know what to do. My 'dad' taught me well." Hands clenching around the barrel of his laser rifle, the teen gave no other sign he was angry. Even his voice was calm and steady.
"Good. See that you remember your training and not get yourself killed." That done, Connor turned to the rest of his team. None of them even looked half as mulish as the young man. Relief made him sigh. "All right, the rest of you know our target. Follow Winchester's lead and heed his signals." As much as it galled him, Connor turned once more to the youngest. Anxiety lowered his voice to a growl. "Lead on."
"For the record, I think this is a complete waste of time." Carefully pronouncing the last words, Dean checked the power pack on his weapon. The indicator light blinked to signal everything was working and fully powered. He sighed, then looked up at the team. "Let's go."
~~~~~~~~
Rushing down the corridor, Connor kept checking his six. They had left the last of the seeker drones behind about two buildings ago. Yet, he couldn't be too sure. The fuckers were getting smarter.
He caught the flash of a finger tips and drew up close behind his team as they queued up to a corner. A twinge in his chest made him clench his jaw as he noted they were down two. There was no telling who it had been this time. Their suits were designed to make them all look alike. All except Dean that was, his smaller frame was easy to make out.
Ahead, Dean leaned forward to put the tip of a mirror around the bend in the corridor. He raised a hand, four fingers up.
They had found something worth guarding.
Clenching his hand in to a fist, Dean punched towards the far wall. He signed for a small alcove on the other side, slightly down the corridor. It was a good place for a sniper to lay down suppression fire and provide backup.
One of them had to head for it.
Connor watched the man next in line rush across to the far side. When nothing shot at him, he exhaled with relief. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
The tension coming in to this mission was far worse than it had been in years. Kate had blamed that on the fact that he wasn't completely in charge. He couldn't accept her logic, but wisely had kept his mouth shut.
Dean was next, his laser at the ready just in case. His smaller figure slipped through with greater ease.
For a moment Connor wished he had the body of a teen again. That lasted all of a second when Dean tripped over his own two feet.
Nearly crashing to the ground, the only thing that spared Dean was the first man's quick thinking. He fell face first in to open arms. The man didn't give the teen time to react before jerking him back in to the small cubby hole.
Only discipline kept Connor's tongue in check. As it was, he mentally promised to cut the clumsy little bastard's dick off if he survived this one. Taking command, he tapped the two guys ahead of him on the backs to get their attention.
They turned as one to stare at him.
He used two fingers to indicate they should rush around the corner, bypassing the niche. It was time to get on with their mission. Following Dean had taken its toll on his temper.
Simultaneous nods meant their orders had been received. Raising their laser rifles, they hesitated for a count of three. Then they jumped around the corner. Their weapons blazed to life as they fried the drones ahead.
That left him and one other.
Connor signaled the man to stand behind him. They would protect their exit and keep it clear, stepping out only to watch the fight. If he could get off a shot, he would take it. This was the hardest part of the mission; letting others do the fighting.
~~~~~~
An explosion rocked the entire compound causing the Earth to shake. Connor managed to keep his feet only from years of practice. His joints ached from all the stop and go efforts, but he refused to let that hinder his progress. They still had a mission to accomplish!
He came to a halt at a junction. There were three possible ways to go. Anyone of them could lead to the cells. Another explosion echoed in the distance, this one much smaller.
The charges they had planted in the reactor were almost done. That meant the machines wouldn't be distracted there for much longer. They were running out of time the longer he stood there. This called for some drastic changes.
Turning around, Connor faced the remains of his team. His gaze landed on Fernelli, Bozeman, and then the runt. He frowned. What he was planning went against team protocols for this mission.
It meant that they most likely wouldn't be coming back, even if they did succeed.
There was no time to think about that, though. Connor pointed at Fernelli and then to the right corridor. He did the same for Bozemen and the left. That left the kid with him. He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating that Dean should follow him.
Checking his grenades, he made sure there were plenty just in case. He watched as the others did the same. The mission now counted on what amounted to suicide runs.
Looking at their faces, Connor could see the acceptance in their eyes. Bozeman and Fernelli had known what they were getting in to when they agreed to come along. No man came back from bad missions every time. It was just part of their life.
That left the kid, though. Dean hadn't been briefed about this. When he looked to the teen, he found only resignation.
Connor nodded at him. That was all they had time for. It was all he allowed them time for. Because, then he was turning and rushing off down the corridor. He could hear Dean's boots following along. There was no looking back.
He had said his goodbyes to them before the mission began. And if it came down to it, his Kate knew he had loved her too.
~~~~~~~~~~
Firing his laser, Connor viciously took the head off another skin model. The charred flesh burned away to the base of the neck before he released the trigger. He didn't have time to savor the kill before he had to fire at another target. Three lasers blasts came his way at the same time, making him drop to the ground.
Rolling, he fired in the direction of one. A small explosion indicated he had taken out the wall battery, but the two ceiling cannons remained. He had to roll again to avoid being melted to the floor by their blasts. This time he ended up behind something that was still smoking.
He wasn't exactly sure what had been in the tank when he blew it, but the fluid was all over the ground around him. It smelled faintly of petroleum, but he ignored it in favor of rising up and firing again.
Connor took advantage of his firing to try and locate the kid. "Dean?" Taking aim, he fired at one of the remaining ceiling batteries. "Dean!"
The shot missed, and the battery returned fire.
An explosion in front of him made Connor drop back. "Dean, answer me!" There was no response to any of his calls. Clenching his eyes shut, he took a calming breath. He should have listened to the god damned kid.
"There's a small chamber back here!" The kid's voice echoed in to the lab. It sounded tinny and distant.
"Where the hell are you?" Keeping the relief out of his voice was easy. Anger was his primary motivation as Connor sat up again. This time, he didn't bother taking aim. He just fired, again and again.
A hail of sparks fell from the ceiling as the last two laser batteries exploded.
"I don't know!" Dean sounded more angry than confused. His voice was a raspy whisper, as if from a speaker. "One of those metal dicks grabbed me and shoved me in here."
"Well, where the hell were you before you got locked in there?" Standing up, Connor groaned. His joints popped in several locations. "And if you say 'I told you so,' I'm going to leave you there."
"Very funny, Connie!" A banging came from the far side of the lab. "Get me the hell out of here!" This was emphasized by two more thumps.
For the comment, Connor considered leaving the bastard in there for a little while longer. It would serve him right and might actually teach him a valuable lesson.
With a sigh, he took in the devastation of the lab. The bottoms of once large tanks lined the room. Their blue liquid contents now marred the floor, making it gummy as it dried. It was funny, the machines had been careful to avoid hitting them until he had hid behind them.
The thumping came again. "What are you doing out there?"
"Keep your pants on." Snorting, Connor continued his study of the lab's remains.
Several smaller vats were in the center of the room. These had contained a metallic colored liquid. That was now gone, the glass from the vats scattered on the floor around them. What was strange was that he could not remember when they had emptied.
"Connor!" Dean's voice was higher in pitch. Panic had obviously started to fill the edges of his voice.
Connor ignored him. This was important. That wireless transmission they decoded had contained vital information.
"Are you fucking with the lights?" This time he sounded distant, his voice distorted by a bad connection.
"Would you shut up! I'm busy out here." Connor searched for any sign of labeling. There had to be something to indicate what function this lab served.
"Con..." The teen was suddenly silenced by static.
All around Connor, the lights suddenly began to dim. They buzzed as their power source began to waver. Spinning on his heel, Connor turned to face the location where he had last heard Dean's voice.
On the far wall lay an intercom. It was lit up in several places, but they too began to flicker on and off. A red indicator light began to flash.
Something inside squeezed Connor's heart. He was distantly aware of starting towards the controls. "Dean? Can you hear me?"
"He...me!" The speaker sparked and the entire panel exploded.
Above him, the lights flickered one last time then shut down. Connor winced at the sudden darkness. Almost unnoticeable at first, a roaring began in the lab. It quickly sped up until it became deafening. His hands shot up to cover his ears but the noise was too much.
Connor fell to his knees, screaming Dean's name. He couldn't even hear the word in his throat over the roaring. The room began to shake around him.
Then, suddenly, everything went quiet.
With a loud groan, a hatch embedded in the far wall cycled open. Smoke and steam belched out the moment it parted at the seams. Inside the chamber was filled with bright white light. At the bottom were a set of clothes, including boots, weapons' belt, and a laser rifle.
Connor recognized them. He started to chuckle nervously. Dean had found what they had been looking for.
~~~~~~~~~~
2004 - Great Plains Region.
The burning sun had begun to set over the horizon. Even so, the mirage of heat rising off the ground still shimmered in the air. Putting a hand up to block it out, John watched the road trail ever onwards behind them. It was always beautiful to him, evoking a bittersweet feeling.
Even though he knew the end of the world had been averted, there was still that part of him that expected to find it around the next bend. Every mile that he put behind him was one less he had left until then. That seriously depressed the fuck out of him. Not as much as running out of beer, though.
Looking down at the empty can in his hand, he shook it just to be sure. When he heard nothing over the roaring of the wind, John sighed. So much for even this small comfort. He tossed the can out over the side so that it would land in the ditch.
There was a job lined up for him here for the next week. It paid enough to get him out of BFE and on the road to nowheresville. That was the fun of being an aimless drifter, he had no real place to go.
He wasn't even real sure where he would have gone if he did. Raising his eyebrows, John shook his head. Obviously he would have been going there if he had a place to head. Still, there was no place he was wanted.
There were a few people he knew from back in the day, but they weren't real big on reunions these days. A lot of them had families to think about. John was something they would have had to explain. Little Susie or Little Tommy didn't need to know what their mommy and or daddy had been up to in a previous life.
So, when the promise of the coming apocalypse hadn't panned out, they went to ground and turned to seed. At nights, when he allowed himself to think about it, he heard the whispers in his dreams. It was an illusion. This was all just some big fevered dream. The real world was out there, waiting.
Skynet lurked in every shadow, biding its time until...
John shook his head. None of it was real. Reaching down between his legs, he grabbed another beer from the six-rings. It cracked open with a satisfying snick. He watched it foam for a second before taking a sip.
This was real. Cold and bubbling against the roof of his mouth, that was perfect. There would be no doomsday. They had won. His mother had died knowing this and it was okay.
Everything would be fine.
~~~~~~~~~
Staring at the outside of the bar, John felt reluctant to take another step. There were far fewer people than he had expected for a Friday night. Yet, it wasn't the size of the crowd that held him back.
It wasn't his clothes. His work outfits had been left hanging in the bathroom to dry. These were clean, even if he had washed them in the motel bathtub.
He wasn't even sure why he had come out tonight. There was plenty of beer waiting for him back in the motel room. Sure, it was a pretty rundown place, but it had cable and clean sheets. What more could he have asked for?
His back pocket weighed heavy with the size of his wallet.
A stiff breeze blowing through his slicked back hair made him shiver. He should have at least waited until it had dried from the shower. He didn't regret taking it. After all day working in the fields he had been more than ready to wash the stink off.
Loud music began blaring inside. Even from this distance he could almost feel the beat. Beer was flowing freely from the tap he knew. It was the perfect place for him to get lost in for a night. The locals wouldn't bat an eye at him, as he had been among them for a few weeks now.
There was really no reason for him to be standing across the street watching it like some idiot with a puppydog crush. He should have just gone in and had a good time. So, what was keeping him back?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing was holding him back from going in to enjoy himself.
Dropping his head, he stared at the ground. These weren't his people no matter how much he wanted them to be. In a week he would be but another memory to them. That didn't settle well with him.
Putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans, John strode off. May be tomorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~
Flipping through the channels for the seventh time revealed nothing new. It wasn't surprising, the last time he had done it was only a couple minutes ago. Every channel had a version of the same thing, original programming was obviously a lost art.
May be the world had ended after all and this was just their version of hell. Instead of demons or robots, reality programming was the eternal tormentor.
Pressing the power button, John turned off the television. Darkness filled the void left behind. A few blinks later and his eyes had adjusted to the dim light from the security light shining through the windows. Even the gauzy curtains couldn't block out that hideous orange shade.
He lay in the silence, listening for nothing. He waited for nothing to come. There was only the quiet of the night.
Through paper-thin walls he heard the chirping of crickets. In this wild world away from the heart of the big cities were billions of the pests. John wondered if there were crickets after judgment day. It was hard to believe they wouldn't survive a nuclear apocalypse.
Rolling over, he glanced at the clock. There were still three hours left in the day. May be if he watched them tick away it would go faster.
The blinking dots in the center continued to count down the seconds. It went on forever before the numbers changed. Tomorrow would come eventually.
Eventually.
~~~~~~~~~~
A soft thump echoed in the motel room. Blinking, John was instantly awake. He kept his body posture relaxed and his breathing even only from years training. Body taken care of, he listened for more.
He didn't have to wait long.
There came a quiet dragging sound as a window was slid open. The noise was slightly muffled, as if it wasn't in the same room. Only one place it could have come from then.
Raising his head, John glanced over at the bathroom. The door was partially open, enough that he could see the toilet tank.
A shadow blocked out the light coming through the window. It moved slowly as it cast shadows across the floor and wall. Then, suddenly, the shadow disappeared. This was followed by the slap of flesh on tiles.
Someone had landed on the bathroom floor!
Ever so carefully, John slid across the bed to the nightstand. He tried not to make a sound but the bed springs groaned under his shifting weight. Freezing, John watched the doorway for movement.
There was none. The shadow had stopped under the window.
John could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had been preparing for this type of situation all his life. His training was waiting under the surface, even after all these years. He knew that the other was aware of him. The only question was did they know he was awake.
After several long breaths, the person in the bathroom started moving again. Their shadow fell over the doorway but came no further.
Relief made John relax a little. Carefully, he slid a hand over to grab the gun off his nightstand. Holding his breath, he fitted his palm to the grip and raised it. A measure of confidence filled him, giving him the strength to move.
He climbed off the bed quiet as he could. John needn't have worried as the person was more interested in something in the bathroom. Over the noise of his own breathing he heard the sound of metal clanking against metal and tiles. It took him several steps to realize what the noise was.
What he heard were hangers being dragged across the shower pole. Someone was stealing his clothes!
Anger flooded through him, making him tense. His cheeks burned as he realized it was just a common thief and not some killer robot from the future. This only served to fuel his rage. Hand clenching around the grip of his pistol, he plodded to the door. All sense off stealth was lost.
He wanted the bastard to hear him coming.
It worked too. The shadow stopped moving and his clothes stopped rustling.
Raising the gun, John kicked the bathroom door all the way open. He started to take aim until something caught him across the shoulder. Knocked around, he smacked face first in to the rebounding door. The last thing he knew was flying back towards the toilet.
~~~~~~~~
There was a tight stinging in his face. Moaning as he slowly came around, John tried to sit up. Constriction around his arms and chest made that impossible. The attempt to get free jarred his shoulder, sending a flare of pain through the muscle. "Ahh!"
"So, you're awake." The stranger sounded none to pleased about that. Flicking open the blinds, he peered out the window. "At least you got a good recovery time. You've been out for less than an hour."
Flexing his cheek muscles, John winced. The entire right side of his face was now a solid bruised mass. He could already feel it half swollen up. Taking a shuddering breath, he experimentally opened his one good eye to look.
He was still in the motel room. Checking himself out, John found that he was tied up in his boxers to the only chair in the room. The rope was frayed in several places and smelled like engine grease. It was slightly familiar, but he couldn't place from where. That didn't matter as much as the fact that there was a stranger in his room.
Getting back to what was important, he twisted his head slowly towards where he heard the man. That just so happened to be to his right. He tried to open that eye, but found it almost swollen shut. Swallowing around the pain, he cleared his throat. "What do you want from me?"
The stranger snickered. "I just wanted some clothes. Yours looked about my size." Stepping back from the window, he ran a hand through his short hair. It was slicked back and still dripping from a shower. "Gotta tell you, it's fantastic having clean clothes again."
"You're welcome." John tried his bonds again, but found them sturdy despite the rope's condition. Whoever had tied him up knew what he was doing. "Well, you got them. Now you can go on your way and let me go."
"Can't do that." Stepping back from the window, the man turned so he could look at John. "You've got something else I need."
Before he could ask what that might be, John was struck by the stranger's appearance. For starters, he wasn't a man at all, but a teen. He didn't look older than sixteen, may be seventeen on the outside. Where John's shirt hung open on his chest, there were revealed several scars.
John knew those types of scars. He had seen several of them before. Had some of his own.
A whole new appreciation for the teen in front of him developed. That also changed his approach to dealing with him. Reason was going to be tricky because the man was determined and experienced.
Licking full lips, the teen took a step towards John. "I need some information." His green eyes were a little wider than they should have been. "Where are we?"
It took a moment for John to recall. "Uh..." He frowned as he took a quick breath. "Miracle Motel, outside of Lawrence, Kansas."
"Miracle Motel?" The teen's back stiffened as he frowned. "That's impossible. The Miracle was hit by a harvester and leveled back in o'nine."
"O'nine?" Now it was John's turn to frown. The world around him started to tilt as he grew lightheaded. It was a welcome change to the pain in his face. Taking a shaky breath, he raised an unsteady gaze to the other teen's. "You're from the future?"
Face growing pale, the teen raised his eyebrows. "That's not possible." He swallowed hard, blinking absently at nothing. "Those are just rumors."
Dropping his head forward, John groaned softly. "What rumors?" He was already tired of this.
"Skynet. They've been..." He didn't finish speaking. A second later there was a loud thump.
Raising his head a little, John saw the source of the noise.
Sprawled out over the floor was the teen. He was unconscious and breathing evenly.
"Wonderful." Sighing, John tried once more to get comfortable. He was going to be in this position for a while it seemed.
~~~~~~~~
He was sitting with his head laying on the backrest when he heard a snort. Raising his head, John groaned from the sudden pain. While he stretched out the sore muscles he noticed the other teen was coming awake.
Groaning, the teen rolled on to his side. Keeping his eyes closed, he reached up to scrub at the back of his head. "That's going to hurt like a bitch in the morning."
"Good." John took a moment to savor in the other's misery. That lasted all of three seconds because his own took precedence once more. Rolling his throbbing shoulder, he needed something to distract himself. He chose talking. "So, what year are you from?"
Stopping mid-rub, the teen opened one eye to look up at John. He looked the other up and down, letting his gaze linger in several spots before settling on his face. "Twenty, twenty-four."
"That close." John didn't want to admit the knowledge nearly scared him shitless. That was five years before they were supposed to have that technology. "How old are you?"
"What's it to you?" Scowling, the teen put a hand under him and pushed himself in to a sitting position. His blond hair stuck out in all directions making him look younger.
With a resigned sigh, John thought it best to get things out in the open. "I'm John Connor. Your being here is probably not accident."
That got an instant reaction.
Before he even blinked, the teen had John's gun out and aimed directly at his forehead. "Connor?" Eyes narrowed, he studied John's face intently. "What kind of trick is this, 'John'? Which model are you?"
"Model?" The word was almost muttered. John realized the teen thought he was one of the machines. "Hey! I'm not a Terminator!" Gritting his teeth, he glared the other down.
Snorting, the teen cocked his head to the side. "Sure, you're not." Then he frowned. "Why didn't you escape?"
"Because I'm tied up, dickhead!" John carefully raised his shoulders to demonstrate that was all the further he could move. "I am still right where you left me."
"A machine could easily break those ropes." He said the words as if they finally occurred to him. Staring at John, he blinked for several seconds. "I'm confused."
"I get the feeling that is something you're used to by now." Having had enough, John slowly eased his head back to rest on the back of the chair. After that, there was silence for a while.
~~~~~~~~~~
John was roused this time by a high pitched whistle. Groaning, he rolled his head rather than raising it to look. Soft light filled the motel room from the television. It was constant enough to be recognizable.
The station had shut down for the day.
Yawning, he twisted his head enough to look over at the bed. The teen was sprawled out over the blankets, his mouth open in a silent snore. In his hand was the remote, forgotten and half released.
Shivering, John glared at the bastard. It hadn't taken him long to adapt to this time. He considered letting him sleep so he might effect another escape attempt. The throbbing in his shoulder and face overrode that idea. If he couldn't sleep in the bed, no one would.
"Hey, asshole!" John kicked out at the bed, but his legs weren't long enough to reach. So, he settled for stamping his bare feet on the floor. "Yo! Get up!"
On the bed, the teen snorted. Shifting, he released the remote and curled on to his side.
Fire burned in John. How dare that prick? "Hey!" He shouted it at the top of his lungs in the hopes of awakening him.
The stranger's only response was to fart, loudly.
Clenching his eyes shut, John tried to hold his breath. After a few seconds he needed air and had to open his mouth to breathe. It was a mistake. His eyes began to water and he nearly gagged.
Trying to breathe shallowly so as not to inhale any more of the foul stench, John shook his head. It was the worst torture he had ever been through. The moment he got out of this he was going to kill that jerkwad!
~~~~~~~~~
Violent red had started to stain the sky by the time the teen roused himself.
John knew this because he had been watching out the window. The curtains had been drawn and the blinds closed, but there was still a gap between them and the window frame. Outside, another hot summer day was beginning.
A quick glance to the clock told John that Tony would be arriving in less than a hour. Hope flared in his chest, small and soft. His ordeal might soon be over. That is if the big jackass didn't get impatient and leave without at least knocking.
John sighed. Well, that hadn't lasted long.
Rubbing at his eyes, the teen sat up on the bed. He glanced over at the television where a local reporter continued on in her perky monologue. With a frown, he picked up the remote and muted her nattering. "No wonder Skynet blasted these people to ash."
"That's not even funny." Eyes burning, John glared at the prick. It was about the only thing he could do without the threat of getting hurt. Not that it mattered, his entire upper body was stiff and ached at the slightest twitched.
"It wasn't a joke, just a snide comment." The teen ran a hand over his face, removing dried drool and sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm tied up, not laying down, facing the alarm clock!" It was evident to John that he was angry. His voice rose when he was angry and he lost control of his temper fast when he was sleep deprived. So, he could be forgiven for wanting to rip the mother fucking, cock sucking son of a bitch's throat out!
John was so frustrated he wanted to start screaming. His back was a mass of knots and each one was felt keenly. If he wasn't released from this position soon he was going to piss himself. Groaning, he slumped forward, well, as far as his bindings would let him. He didn't care if moaned from the pain.
There was a slight chance that he was going to die here. At this point, John figured it might be a relief. Then again, that would be highly amusing. No machine could kill him, it didn't matter how prepared it had been to do the job. It would take a time-lost, inconsiderate kid with a thing for stealing John's clothes.
With a put upon sigh, the teen slid off the bed. He stood with a joint popping stretch and groaned. Dropping his arms to his sides, he started towards the bathroom, and subsequently, John.
John watched him come at him with undisguised hostility. The moment he passed beyond John's field of vision he sighed. A second later the ropes binding him to the chair fell away. Relief and blood flow came in an instant. He started to slump with a sigh, until the prickling started.
Falling to the floor, John clenched his eyes shut. His entire upper body felt like a thousand needles were puncturing his flesh. Distantly, he was aware that he was whimpering. He probably wet himself too. It didn't matter though, he didn't care.
He was free and that meant he could carry out his plan. John was going to kill that little bastard. There was only one thing stopping him, though. Turning his head to the side, he lay on the dirty motel floor, gasping like a fish out of water. Just as soon as he could move his body, the teen was dead!
~~~~~~~~~~
Coming out of the bathroom, the teen sighed with pleasure. Slung low on his hips were another pair of John's jeans. Humming under his breath, he scrubbed at his hair with a hand towel.
From his spot on the floor John continued to glare. It was a lovely spot to be sure, but he was ready to get up. "Make yourself at home, why don't you?"
"Thanks." His bare feet slapped against the floor as he made his way back over to the bed. Spinning, he dropped down and kicked his feet up. "You know, I had some time to think while I was taking a hot shower."
"You don't say." Experimentally, John tried his right hand. It curled, but only halfway closed. He sighed. A few more minutes more it seemed.
"Yeah." He nodded at no one in particular. "I think I like it here." Leaning back, he picked up the remote. "I mean, it won't last long and we'll probably see the shit go down first hand, but I like it."
John didn't like where this was going. "You are free to go out and explore the world to your heart's content."
"Oh?" He waved it off with a shake of his head. "May be later." In the middle of flipping through the channels he stopped suddenly. "Hey, you got anything to eat around here?" Licking his lips, he leaned forward to see the TV better. "Any of this pie stuff?"
Closing his eyes, John wished for a big house to drop on him. Him as in that little prick on his bed. John had no wish to die. "You realize I am going to probably kill you when I get off this floor, right?"
"May be." He was distracted, his eyes on the pie. "I'm Dean, by the way."
"Oh good, I will know what to tell them to put on your friggen tombstone." His fists clenched at his side. Slowly, little by little, John was getting feeling back in his arms.
Sitting back, Dean licked his lips. "Tombstone. I had one of those once. It was old and tasted bland. Of course, it had been frozen for fifteen years by that time. It was the best birthday ever, though. Sammy ate half the..." He trailed off with a sigh.
For a while after that John heard only silence. He knew Dean must have realized the truth of his situation. From experience, he knew how much it hurt, not that he would ever admit it. Empathizing with the enemy was something he would ever do.
"I'm sorry." Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. "For breakin' in and tying you up, and everything else. I was cold and needed some clothes. Then you came out of no where." Clearing his throat, he scratched at the thin line of hair heading down in to his pants. "Just thought I'd apologize."
Putting his face in the carpet, John tried using his chin to lift himself up. This was going to stop if he had to drag himself forward with his face.
"Besides, it was all your fault anyways." Dean sounded pretty certain of that. "If you, future you that is, hadn't dragged me on that stupid mission, I wouldn't be here now." Clicking the remote buttons, he changed the channels again. "So, the way I figure, you kinda owe me."
John wanted to bang his head against the floor.
~~~~~~~~~
Closing the door behind him, John leaned against it while he turned the key in the lock. He still wasn't back in full swing, but he had enough strength to go out. He wouldn't even be out there if he didn't have to be. There were some things he needed though.
Stretching his arms over his head, Dean flashed his belly in the morning light. His grin told that he knew what exactly he was doing. "So, where we're going, do they have burgers?"
Sighing, John considered going back inside and letting the idiot starve. He didn't really have to spend his hard-earned money on Dean. But knowing his luck, Dean would find his way back in again. It was really unfair. He hadn't even done anything to deserve this form of punishment.
John pushed off from the door with a groan. He started to teeter until strong arms came up behind him.
"Whoa there, don't want to fall over." Dean leaned close to John, pressing his cheek to John's as he held him. "You gotta move slowly until you get your strength back."
For some reason, John only nodded his understanding slowly. It wasn't like he didn't already know this. Still, he was grateful for Dean's arms around him. He liked the feel of them, not that he would admit it.
Clearing his throat, Dean swallowed. "Are we ready to go now?"
"Yeah. I think." When the other didn't release him immediately, John felt a smile twitch the corners of his mouth. "Okay, I know."
"All right then, let's go." Dean slowly slid John from his arms back on to his own two feet. Letting his arms drop to his sides, he rubbed them against his borrowed shirt. "Show me this world of yours."
~~~~~~~~~~~
2004 - Allentown, Pennsylvania.
Backpack slung over his shoulders, Dean glared at John. "I don't understand why not."
"Because, it leaves a trail." Internally, John groaned. This was going to be a point of contention between them for hours, he could see it now. They couldn't afford the hassle. The proof should have been accepted, but Dean was being stubborn.
"But...it's a work of beauty." Dean clenched his hand around the straps of his bag. He kept glancing over his shoulder back at the lot. "It's five hundred, cash. The man said he would throw in the license for free."
If one form of reason didn't work, John tried a different tactic. "It's probably stolen." The nonplussed look he received in return made him sigh. "Right, forgot who I was talking to."
"I don't steal." Dean faced forward, unconsciously crossing his arms. "I borrow."
"Then why haven't I got my white shirt back? Or my leather jacket?" For the first time, John glanced over at his companion. The road shoulder under their feet made him stumble enough that he had to quickly look back to where he was going, though.
Keeping silent, Dean started ahead at a slightly faster pace.
John had to put on a little speed to catch up. He really hated when the other teen did this. "The silent treatment isn't going to work, Dean. I know how loud you can get when excited."
Ears turning red, Dean put on more speed.
That only made John raise his eyes to the heavens and sigh. There was no reasoning with Dean when he got on something he wanted like this. What was so special about an old Impala anyways?
~~~~~~~~~~~
2024 - Los Angeles Free Territories.
Climbing out of the back of the jeep, Connor rolled his neck to relieve the kinks. They should have stopped on the way back to rest. He wasn't a kid anymore. These long trips were making his joints act up. If it was this bad now, he hated to see what it would be like in ten years.
Still, he looked around the underground garage, it was good to be home. The surviving members of his team were being greeted by the others. A few techs came over to work on the vehicle and he stepped back to give them room. The suspension joints would have to be replaced after this last trip.
The grinding of gears in a motor drew Connor's attention to the entrance. Backing down the ramp, a large moving truck began to beep. Inside, John knew was the future of their movement.
This had been a successful mission. They got what they had gone for and only a few of them had been sacrificed. By any definition that had been a success.
Yet, all he could think of were the faces that weren't coming back. Too many had been added to that list over the years. Even when they won this war, he knew the price would be too high.
Familiar strong hands slid up his back, making Connor's spine stiffen. He relaxed as they slid around his shoulders over his chest. Tugged back against a broad chest, he sighed with relief. One hand turned his face to the side so warm, soft lips could caress his cheek.
"We've missed you." Murmuring against John's cheek, Dean exhaled softly in relief. "Do you realize how annoying it is to deal with a pregnant Kate all by myself?"
"You're the one who chose to remain behind." It was said out of spite. Connor knew there had been no choice. He had been needed on this mission and someone had to stay behind with their wife.
Dean's fingers tightened around Connor's peck, pinching the nipple through the leather vest. "You're lucky I'm horny." He kissed the line of his lover's neck roughly up to his cheek. "Then again, Cas's been itching for some action lately."
"You warn that fucking pot-head to keep his hands to himself!" Hand clenching around Dean's arm, Connor turned in to the kiss. He forced the other man's mouth against his own and bit his lips.
Growling his approval, Dean wrapped his arms around the Connor's neck.
The memorial services could wait. For now, Connor wanted this, he needed it more.
THE END.............................