Still, 4/?
Title: Still, 4/?
Verse: The Libation Bearers
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Ben/Adam, Bobby.
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Follows Orders of an Elder Time. The year is 2019. Ben is not the only one to know loss and irresolution. A series of strange killings in Colorado will come haunt Adam in unpredictable ways.
Warnings: Major characters...are dead, violence, more angst than you can shake a very angsty stick at.
“Okay,” said Ben - never let it be said that he didn’t know when he was beaten. “Just chill out, okay man? I’m not the enemy here.”
“Drop your weapons,” said his assailant calmly. He didn’t sound like he was about to freak out and start firing for no reason, so Ben very carefully unzipped his jacket, unholstered his gun and lowered it to the floor. He followed it up with his ammunition belt, and the knife he kept (sheathed) in his jeans pocket.
“Stay where you are,” said his antagonist in the same unruffled tone, and Ben sensed him approach from behind. Then he felt hands at his waist, and tensed - the stranger proceeded to frisk him thoroughly, and Ben clenched his teeth to prevent himself from protesting. He couldn’t help but feel he was doing something wrong, despite the fact he’d hardly asked for such manhandling.
“Okay,” said his assailant finally: “Turn around slowly.”
Ben obliged, and found himself face-to-face with a tall, thin and wiry man in a neat black jacket and dark jeans. Though he spoke with a Midwestern accent, he looked part Mexican or perhaps Greek, with dark hair and eyes and a tanned olive complexion.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” asked the stranger.
“Forensic detective Carl-”
“No you’re not. I heard all that from upstairs - by the way, when you’re committing fraud, you want try keeping your voice down. Never know who else will be listening. I’ve been monitoring this case since it opened. The forensic team the department called in doesn’t get here till tomorrow. Besides which, science types don’t go in much for silver bullets.” He gestured with his gun to Ben’s discarded armoury. Ben smiled guardedly. As the gun was no longer aimed at his person, he tested,
“I carry a lot of useful things when I go to dark places. Silver, salt rounds...”
“If this is some kind of thrill-seeking trip, kid, take some advice: leave now and don’t come back. This isn’t a game - this is real.”
“I’m not playing,” Ben said seriously, and met the stranger’s eyes. Then he took a risk: “But seeing as the next full moon isn’t for seventeen days, I’m pretty sure neither of us is getting mauled tonight.”
The stranger’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Ah, it’s like that. Well, who are you? My partner and I are pretty much the authorities on werewolves south of Alaska, so if you’re new to this you’d better introduce yourself.”
“Ben Braedon,” Ben offered a hand, glancing around in case the aforementioned partner was about to appear and point another gun at him.
“She’s not here,” the hunter dismissed, but he shook Ben’s hand. “David Mendoza. We don’t usually team-tag, but to be honest, we’ve been here for three days and turned up zero. What do you have?”
“I just got here myself,” Ben admitted. “That is, my partner and I did. He’s not here,” he said with a smile as Mendoza repeated the gesture he’d just made of glancing around the shadows. Mendoza actually chuckled:
“Guess we hunters aren’t the most trusting of people.”
“True,” Ben nodded. Mendoza put his gun fully away, and Ben picked up his weapons again.
“I’ve looked all around here,” Mendoza told him: “Got nothing. All the blood traces are human. But hey, fresh eyes...” he made a vague gesture for Ben to carry on. Ben did so, scraping blood and cell traces off the flagstones, running the EMF, checking for any signs of a summoning or ritual gone wrong - about one in five of the victims he’d seen so far turned out to have unwittingly brought disaster upon themselves.
“Nothing,” he admitted after a moment. Then his cell beeped with a text message: Adam. Unless u found something major, come back 2 inn. Plot thickens.
“Your partner?” Mendoza asked.
“Yeah. Sounds like he’s got something. I have to go. Uh, you can come if you want to....” Ben wasn’t sure of the protocol for accidentally horning in on someone else’s hunt - the situation had never come up before. But it seemed only polite.
“Thanks,” Mendoza’s smile could have been genuine or ironic. “Appreciate it. You’d better go back out the front way - don’t want to confuse a cop you might need to get past again.”
“How will you get out?”
Mendoza pointed to the way he’d apparently gotten in - metal doors of the sort leading to backyard shaft. They had been locked and from the inside, but the padlock lay in two neatly severed pieces on a pile of sacking beneath. “Lasered that through the crack in the doors. ”
Ben was impressed. It must have shown on his face, for Mendoza said,
“If you’re going to try it, look first to check the lock will have a soft landing. Otherwise the clang will bring security down.”
“Why didn’t you just do what I did?”
“I’m....my face is kind of recognizable around here. I’m not the most popular guy in this town.”
As they trekked back through the streets, that became apparent. Locals had started to emerge on their afternoon business, and though they were hushed with the pall that descends on any small town after tragedy, several spared sideways looks at Mendoza and his new apparent friend. The looks were decidedly unfriendly.
“This is the place,” Ben stopped Mendoza when they got to the Charming Inn. As Adam still had the key, he knocked took on their room door. Adam opened the door, smiling as his eyes met Ben’s, then he registered the person behind him. He raised his gaze, and his eyes widened, his mouth dropped open a little. Ben froze reflexively - what was wrong?! - and Adam said,
“David!”
* * *
It wasn’t cheating if the person you loved was dead anyway, and had probably never existed outside your imagination. They could never be like other couples regarding ‘jealousy’ or ‘exclusivity’, because they both knew about the ghosts, and how you could only ever really be in love with one person, only crazy for one person, even if you half-invented them to make them perfect enough. And you would go on and have other relationships, and do all the day to day shit, and a time would come when they weren’t on your mind every minute of every day anymore, but ultimately....that person had you first. You loved them first. You would always love them best, secretly, insanely, and it was probably just as well you didn’t actually know them.
This was accepted.
David was a different problem. David was real, alive, imperfect, and on their side, and he had been with Adam on similar terms, and it was only polite that Ben leave them alone to ‘catch up’ for a bit after the formal the introductions. All he had known about Adam’s one ex-boyfriend was his name and that he hunted werewolves, which, yeah - how many werewolf-hunting Davids could there realistically be in the United States? It wasn’t like he was jealous, not some kind of freak who got mad if their partner was friends with the person he used to date, especially when said person could quite possibly be a great benefit to their current business.
So, as the afternoon became dusk, Ben went for a walk and talked to Dean.
Part Five
Verse: The Libation Bearers
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: reading_is_in
Characters: Ben/Adam, Bobby.
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All recognized characters from ‘Supernatural’ are property of Eric Kripke/CW. This fan fiction is not for profit.
Summary: Follows Orders of an Elder Time. The year is 2019. Ben is not the only one to know loss and irresolution. A series of strange killings in Colorado will come haunt Adam in unpredictable ways.
Warnings: Major characters...are dead, violence, more angst than you can shake a very angsty stick at.
“Okay,” said Ben - never let it be said that he didn’t know when he was beaten. “Just chill out, okay man? I’m not the enemy here.”
“Drop your weapons,” said his assailant calmly. He didn’t sound like he was about to freak out and start firing for no reason, so Ben very carefully unzipped his jacket, unholstered his gun and lowered it to the floor. He followed it up with his ammunition belt, and the knife he kept (sheathed) in his jeans pocket.
“Stay where you are,” said his antagonist in the same unruffled tone, and Ben sensed him approach from behind. Then he felt hands at his waist, and tensed - the stranger proceeded to frisk him thoroughly, and Ben clenched his teeth to prevent himself from protesting. He couldn’t help but feel he was doing something wrong, despite the fact he’d hardly asked for such manhandling.
“Okay,” said his assailant finally: “Turn around slowly.”
Ben obliged, and found himself face-to-face with a tall, thin and wiry man in a neat black jacket and dark jeans. Though he spoke with a Midwestern accent, he looked part Mexican or perhaps Greek, with dark hair and eyes and a tanned olive complexion.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” asked the stranger.
“Forensic detective Carl-”
“No you’re not. I heard all that from upstairs - by the way, when you’re committing fraud, you want try keeping your voice down. Never know who else will be listening. I’ve been monitoring this case since it opened. The forensic team the department called in doesn’t get here till tomorrow. Besides which, science types don’t go in much for silver bullets.” He gestured with his gun to Ben’s discarded armoury. Ben smiled guardedly. As the gun was no longer aimed at his person, he tested,
“I carry a lot of useful things when I go to dark places. Silver, salt rounds...”
“If this is some kind of thrill-seeking trip, kid, take some advice: leave now and don’t come back. This isn’t a game - this is real.”
“I’m not playing,” Ben said seriously, and met the stranger’s eyes. Then he took a risk: “But seeing as the next full moon isn’t for seventeen days, I’m pretty sure neither of us is getting mauled tonight.”
The stranger’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Ah, it’s like that. Well, who are you? My partner and I are pretty much the authorities on werewolves south of Alaska, so if you’re new to this you’d better introduce yourself.”
“Ben Braedon,” Ben offered a hand, glancing around in case the aforementioned partner was about to appear and point another gun at him.
“She’s not here,” the hunter dismissed, but he shook Ben’s hand. “David Mendoza. We don’t usually team-tag, but to be honest, we’ve been here for three days and turned up zero. What do you have?”
“I just got here myself,” Ben admitted. “That is, my partner and I did. He’s not here,” he said with a smile as Mendoza repeated the gesture he’d just made of glancing around the shadows. Mendoza actually chuckled:
“Guess we hunters aren’t the most trusting of people.”
“True,” Ben nodded. Mendoza put his gun fully away, and Ben picked up his weapons again.
“I’ve looked all around here,” Mendoza told him: “Got nothing. All the blood traces are human. But hey, fresh eyes...” he made a vague gesture for Ben to carry on. Ben did so, scraping blood and cell traces off the flagstones, running the EMF, checking for any signs of a summoning or ritual gone wrong - about one in five of the victims he’d seen so far turned out to have unwittingly brought disaster upon themselves.
“Nothing,” he admitted after a moment. Then his cell beeped with a text message: Adam. Unless u found something major, come back 2 inn. Plot thickens.
“Your partner?” Mendoza asked.
“Yeah. Sounds like he’s got something. I have to go. Uh, you can come if you want to....” Ben wasn’t sure of the protocol for accidentally horning in on someone else’s hunt - the situation had never come up before. But it seemed only polite.
“Thanks,” Mendoza’s smile could have been genuine or ironic. “Appreciate it. You’d better go back out the front way - don’t want to confuse a cop you might need to get past again.”
“How will you get out?”
Mendoza pointed to the way he’d apparently gotten in - metal doors of the sort leading to backyard shaft. They had been locked and from the inside, but the padlock lay in two neatly severed pieces on a pile of sacking beneath. “Lasered that through the crack in the doors. ”
Ben was impressed. It must have shown on his face, for Mendoza said,
“If you’re going to try it, look first to check the lock will have a soft landing. Otherwise the clang will bring security down.”
“Why didn’t you just do what I did?”
“I’m....my face is kind of recognizable around here. I’m not the most popular guy in this town.”
As they trekked back through the streets, that became apparent. Locals had started to emerge on their afternoon business, and though they were hushed with the pall that descends on any small town after tragedy, several spared sideways looks at Mendoza and his new apparent friend. The looks were decidedly unfriendly.
“This is the place,” Ben stopped Mendoza when they got to the Charming Inn. As Adam still had the key, he knocked took on their room door. Adam opened the door, smiling as his eyes met Ben’s, then he registered the person behind him. He raised his gaze, and his eyes widened, his mouth dropped open a little. Ben froze reflexively - what was wrong?! - and Adam said,
“David!”
* * *
It wasn’t cheating if the person you loved was dead anyway, and had probably never existed outside your imagination. They could never be like other couples regarding ‘jealousy’ or ‘exclusivity’, because they both knew about the ghosts, and how you could only ever really be in love with one person, only crazy for one person, even if you half-invented them to make them perfect enough. And you would go on and have other relationships, and do all the day to day shit, and a time would come when they weren’t on your mind every minute of every day anymore, but ultimately....that person had you first. You loved them first. You would always love them best, secretly, insanely, and it was probably just as well you didn’t actually know them.
This was accepted.
David was a different problem. David was real, alive, imperfect, and on their side, and he had been with Adam on similar terms, and it was only polite that Ben leave them alone to ‘catch up’ for a bit after the formal the introductions. All he had known about Adam’s one ex-boyfriend was his name and that he hunted werewolves, which, yeah - how many werewolf-hunting Davids could there realistically be in the United States? It wasn’t like he was jealous, not some kind of freak who got mad if their partner was friends with the person he used to date, especially when said person could quite possibly be a great benefit to their current business.
So, as the afternoon became dusk, Ben went for a walk and talked to Dean.
Part Five