Still, 6/?
Title: Still, 6/?
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.
In the historical records room of Elbert town library, Ben and Adam sat at an oak table with three photographs in front of them.
“Josie Marsh, 42, post office clerk, married with two daughters. Simon Walder, 16, student, single. Jacob Allbright, 28, unemployed, divorced, three kids.” Adam stared hard at the photographs - drivers’ license shots, as though that would somehow force them to reveal more information. “They all lived in Elbert,” he said finally, and softly hit his forehead against the table. “I got nothing.”
“D’you think....” Ben frowned, focused on the old grandfather keeping time with loud intrusive tick, “D’you think maybe the cops could be right about this one? I mean, it really is just human insanity?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Adam responded wearily. “But even serial killers usually have some kind of...pattern. At least type. We’ve got a modern mom, a school kid and a deadbeat alcoholic as victims, two missing hearts and one....just messed up.” Judging by the euphemistic news report and what they’d gathered at the police department that morning, the death of Jacob Allbright, 28, unemployed, made the butchering of Marsh and Walder look positively tidy. The conversation Ben didn’t want to have was fast becoming unavoidable. He’d received a text (two identical texts, actually) from Bobby that morning - Ben hadn’t even known Bobby knew how to text:
Ne%w development does not look good. This is what i wass afraid of. Be careful. call if you boys needsomthing. B.
Adam couldn’t not be thinking it. Ben couldn’t stop thinking it. There was no putting it off any longer.
“Adam,” he said, turning to face his boyfriend and his newspaper. “It might be ghouls.”
“Doubt it,” Adam said, without looking up from the photos. “Ghouls don’t extract hearts or hunt at the full moon.”
“And werewolves don’t totally eviscerate,” Ben said, “And they can’t hunt when it isn’t a full moon. Hey,” he put his hand across the photographs on the table to force Adam’s attention to him: “If it is ghouls, are you - going to be okay? Because if you’re not I can handle this. I mean, I’m ready. You could go back to Bobby’s - take the train, hell, take the car - I can do this one by myself.” Well. Ben hadn’t thought he was going to go quite that far.
“Go back?” Adam blinked at him. “No. I don’t need to do that.”
“Oh.”
“I had considered the possibility.” Adam frowned. “Is this what you’ve been conspiring with Bobby about?”
“We weren’t conspiring!” Ben felt himself blush. Damn, he’d thought he was past the age of his vocal range suddenly spiking. “It’s just - we don’t want you to have to do that - unnecessarily.”
“Alright, keep your voice down,” Adam glanced back and forth quickly. “Okay. Look. I shouldn’t have said conspiring. And yeah, thanks for worrying about me and all. But really. It’s fine. There’s no need to.” He slipped a hand onto Ben’s thigh under the table. “You hunted demons before, right?”
“Well, that was mostly you.” Relieved, Ben allowed himself a quick wry smile at the memory of those earlier days. “I received messages and got kidnapped.”
Adam didn’t pick up the humour. “Well whatever. You were there. You didn’t crack up. I’m almost twenty-five, Ben. My mother died when I was sixteen, and I’ve seen a lot of shit since then. I am prepared for the possibility that this might be a ghoul,” he shrugged. “I wish you and Bobby had told me you were worried though.” He turned back to the newspaper. Ben covered Adam’s hand with his own - it was still on his thigh, but had slackened.
“We just didn’t want to upset you. If it was nothing, I mean,” he shrugged awkwardly.
“Okay.”
Pause.
“But I really am expecting a lemon cake for my birthday.”
It worked, as it always did - the tension was broken. Ben smiled. He could’ve done worse than to end up with Adam. A hell of a lot worse.
“So, next order of business,” Adam started to fold the newspapers away: “We go check out the drunk dude’s house?”
“Food first.”
“We’ll pick something up on the way.”
Elton lacked a Subway, naturally, but the local sandwich shop appeared reasonably well stocked. The owner, a middle-aged woman, gave them a derisory once-over, but the teenager behind the counter seemed suitably impressed with their suits and ties:
“Are you guys like the FBI or something?”
“Forensic Investigations,” Adam flashed the card at her.
“That’s so awesome! CSI is like my second-favourite show. Do you see a lot of bodies and stuff?”
“Sure.” Ben supposed that was a pretty safe bet. So long as the kid was obliging them: “What can you tell us about Jacob Allbright?”
“Probably a drug ring murder,” the kid theorized expansively, leaning against the deli counter and gesturing with the tongs. “I mean he seemed like a deadbeat, you know, locked up in the house, or sometimes you’d see him hanging around the street corners....like he probably owed his dealer so they cut him, or whatever.”
“You watch your mouth, Ryan O’Conner,” the shop owner/cook reappeared, a spatula in one hand. “Jacob Allbright was a sad case. He lost everything - and there ain’t no cause for your people to go snooping around disturbing the body.”
“We’re just trying to see justice done, Ma’am,” said Adam sympathetically.
“Too late for that,” the woman shrugged. “Poor man lost his wife, his kids, then finally his mind to drink…no doubt the crazies picked on him as an easy target. You just let him be, concentrate on catching them. There weren’t no motive to this one, save the bloodlust of a few deranged souls.” She practically shoved them their brown paper bags, gripping each at the top as the grease stains from grilled cheese pooled at the bottom:
“I don’t think she likes us,” Ben said dryly as he inhaled his sandwich in the front seat. “Maybe we should have come as reporters.”
“I imagine she’d like that even less,” Adam remarked, popping the tab on his cola. “We need to step up our game here, Ben. I already get the feeling we’re outstaying our welcome.”
The cops spotting Allbright’s apartment checked their IDs briefly without bothering to get out of their vehicle: the building looked to have been evacuated, or perhaps Allbright had just been the only occupant. A smudge of deep red caught Ben’s eye on the front doorstep: a smudged bloodstain. Either Allbright had done his best to get help after it (‘they?’) had attacked him, or more likely something had left the place wearing smears of him. Ben shuddered himself; looked to Adam. Adam spared the bloodstain a brief glance, then entered the building.
The interior of the apartment backed up the shop-owner’s opinion - it was hard to say if the place had been ransacked or this was how it usually looked. A TV with an indoor antenna sat on a wooden crate; the sofa was ripped and battered. The windows were broken and had been patched with brown tape. Broken glass and bottles littered the floor. The place stank - booze, sweat, blood and something else...cold, a little bitter. Something passed over Adam’s face.
“You okay?” Ben asked him.
Adam blinked. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason. EMF?”
“Some.”
A desultory search turned up much of the same - until they got to the bathroom, where more blood was spattered on the toilet and shower stall. If either had been the type for sick jokes, that wouldn’t been the moment. Except it wouldn’t have been. Because Adam was staring at the mirror, transfixed. Very carefully he raised his hand, ran a finger round the outside edge of it. Then he held his fingertip up to Ben:
“Grave dirt,” he said quietly.
Part Seven
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.
In the historical records room of Elbert town library, Ben and Adam sat at an oak table with three photographs in front of them.
“Josie Marsh, 42, post office clerk, married with two daughters. Simon Walder, 16, student, single. Jacob Allbright, 28, unemployed, divorced, three kids.” Adam stared hard at the photographs - drivers’ license shots, as though that would somehow force them to reveal more information. “They all lived in Elbert,” he said finally, and softly hit his forehead against the table. “I got nothing.”
“D’you think....” Ben frowned, focused on the old grandfather keeping time with loud intrusive tick, “D’you think maybe the cops could be right about this one? I mean, it really is just human insanity?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Adam responded wearily. “But even serial killers usually have some kind of...pattern. At least type. We’ve got a modern mom, a school kid and a deadbeat alcoholic as victims, two missing hearts and one....just messed up.” Judging by the euphemistic news report and what they’d gathered at the police department that morning, the death of Jacob Allbright, 28, unemployed, made the butchering of Marsh and Walder look positively tidy. The conversation Ben didn’t want to have was fast becoming unavoidable. He’d received a text (two identical texts, actually) from Bobby that morning - Ben hadn’t even known Bobby knew how to text:
Ne%w development does not look good. This is what i wass afraid of. Be careful. call if you boys needsomthing. B.
Adam couldn’t not be thinking it. Ben couldn’t stop thinking it. There was no putting it off any longer.
“Adam,” he said, turning to face his boyfriend and his newspaper. “It might be ghouls.”
“Doubt it,” Adam said, without looking up from the photos. “Ghouls don’t extract hearts or hunt at the full moon.”
“And werewolves don’t totally eviscerate,” Ben said, “And they can’t hunt when it isn’t a full moon. Hey,” he put his hand across the photographs on the table to force Adam’s attention to him: “If it is ghouls, are you - going to be okay? Because if you’re not I can handle this. I mean, I’m ready. You could go back to Bobby’s - take the train, hell, take the car - I can do this one by myself.” Well. Ben hadn’t thought he was going to go quite that far.
“Go back?” Adam blinked at him. “No. I don’t need to do that.”
“Oh.”
“I had considered the possibility.” Adam frowned. “Is this what you’ve been conspiring with Bobby about?”
“We weren’t conspiring!” Ben felt himself blush. Damn, he’d thought he was past the age of his vocal range suddenly spiking. “It’s just - we don’t want you to have to do that - unnecessarily.”
“Alright, keep your voice down,” Adam glanced back and forth quickly. “Okay. Look. I shouldn’t have said conspiring. And yeah, thanks for worrying about me and all. But really. It’s fine. There’s no need to.” He slipped a hand onto Ben’s thigh under the table. “You hunted demons before, right?”
“Well, that was mostly you.” Relieved, Ben allowed himself a quick wry smile at the memory of those earlier days. “I received messages and got kidnapped.”
Adam didn’t pick up the humour. “Well whatever. You were there. You didn’t crack up. I’m almost twenty-five, Ben. My mother died when I was sixteen, and I’ve seen a lot of shit since then. I am prepared for the possibility that this might be a ghoul,” he shrugged. “I wish you and Bobby had told me you were worried though.” He turned back to the newspaper. Ben covered Adam’s hand with his own - it was still on his thigh, but had slackened.
“We just didn’t want to upset you. If it was nothing, I mean,” he shrugged awkwardly.
“Okay.”
Pause.
“But I really am expecting a lemon cake for my birthday.”
It worked, as it always did - the tension was broken. Ben smiled. He could’ve done worse than to end up with Adam. A hell of a lot worse.
“So, next order of business,” Adam started to fold the newspapers away: “We go check out the drunk dude’s house?”
“Food first.”
“We’ll pick something up on the way.”
Elton lacked a Subway, naturally, but the local sandwich shop appeared reasonably well stocked. The owner, a middle-aged woman, gave them a derisory once-over, but the teenager behind the counter seemed suitably impressed with their suits and ties:
“Are you guys like the FBI or something?”
“Forensic Investigations,” Adam flashed the card at her.
“That’s so awesome! CSI is like my second-favourite show. Do you see a lot of bodies and stuff?”
“Sure.” Ben supposed that was a pretty safe bet. So long as the kid was obliging them: “What can you tell us about Jacob Allbright?”
“Probably a drug ring murder,” the kid theorized expansively, leaning against the deli counter and gesturing with the tongs. “I mean he seemed like a deadbeat, you know, locked up in the house, or sometimes you’d see him hanging around the street corners....like he probably owed his dealer so they cut him, or whatever.”
“You watch your mouth, Ryan O’Conner,” the shop owner/cook reappeared, a spatula in one hand. “Jacob Allbright was a sad case. He lost everything - and there ain’t no cause for your people to go snooping around disturbing the body.”
“We’re just trying to see justice done, Ma’am,” said Adam sympathetically.
“Too late for that,” the woman shrugged. “Poor man lost his wife, his kids, then finally his mind to drink…no doubt the crazies picked on him as an easy target. You just let him be, concentrate on catching them. There weren’t no motive to this one, save the bloodlust of a few deranged souls.” She practically shoved them their brown paper bags, gripping each at the top as the grease stains from grilled cheese pooled at the bottom:
“I don’t think she likes us,” Ben said dryly as he inhaled his sandwich in the front seat. “Maybe we should have come as reporters.”
“I imagine she’d like that even less,” Adam remarked, popping the tab on his cola. “We need to step up our game here, Ben. I already get the feeling we’re outstaying our welcome.”
The cops spotting Allbright’s apartment checked their IDs briefly without bothering to get out of their vehicle: the building looked to have been evacuated, or perhaps Allbright had just been the only occupant. A smudge of deep red caught Ben’s eye on the front doorstep: a smudged bloodstain. Either Allbright had done his best to get help after it (‘they?’) had attacked him, or more likely something had left the place wearing smears of him. Ben shuddered himself; looked to Adam. Adam spared the bloodstain a brief glance, then entered the building.
The interior of the apartment backed up the shop-owner’s opinion - it was hard to say if the place had been ransacked or this was how it usually looked. A TV with an indoor antenna sat on a wooden crate; the sofa was ripped and battered. The windows were broken and had been patched with brown tape. Broken glass and bottles littered the floor. The place stank - booze, sweat, blood and something else...cold, a little bitter. Something passed over Adam’s face.
“You okay?” Ben asked him.
Adam blinked. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason. EMF?”
“Some.”
A desultory search turned up much of the same - until they got to the bathroom, where more blood was spattered on the toilet and shower stall. If either had been the type for sick jokes, that wouldn’t been the moment. Except it wouldn’t have been. Because Adam was staring at the mirror, transfixed. Very carefully he raised his hand, ran a finger round the outside edge of it. Then he held his fingertip up to Ben:
“Grave dirt,” he said quietly.
Part Seven