A/N1: There's typically an expectation that a succubus fic would include lots of M-rated detail in the area of hanky-panky and other shenanigansy-type carryings-on. If that's what you're looking for, I'm sorry to disappoint. Instead, I've provided you with what I hope is an entertaining telling of Winchester exploits. Enjoy!
A/N2: This was supposed to be my entry for last weekend's E/O drabble challenge. Unfortunately, the fic kept growing until it passed the generous 1000-word limit we were given last week. Now it's a stand-alone fic. Sorry, my E/O buddies. And you won't get one from me this week either since I'm putting my laptop in the shop shortly after I post this. My computer is under attack by something not-very-nice and requires expert attention. Wish me luck!
A/N3: Many thanks to the amazing TheYmp for dropping everything to be my across-the-globe beta, and to Woman of Letters for the title suggestion and support. You both rock!
"So you're John Winchester's son?" Fugly dude circled Dean, waving his hands around like he'd forgotten he still held a loaded pistol. "My name's John too. John Radner. We hunted together once, your daddy and me. He ever tell you about me?"
"Nope." Dean's voice dripped with disdain as he covertly worked the ropes binding his wrists to the post. "But then, he only talked about important stuff. I'm guessing you weren't even a blip on his radar."
The guy sneered, showing off his crooked teeth. "Oh, I promise you I was more than just a blip."
Dean smirked. "Yeah? Maybe. Guess a guy your size registers on the Richter scale every time he gets out of bed."
Radner landed a solid punch to Dean's jaw, flinging Dean's head back and slamming it into the post. Dean blinked a couple of times to steady his vision before baring a bloody-toothed grin. "That all you got? 'Cause I could do this all day."
"You're a real sonuvabitch, ain'tcha? Just like your daddy. That's real good. Makes what's coming that much sweeter."
"Look, I don't know what you're trying to prove, but John Winchester died a long time ago."
"That's too bad. Woulda liked for good ole John to witness this. No matter, though. Somebody has to pay for what he did. Might as well be you."
"I know I'm going to regret asking, but what the hell did he do?"
"He killed my boy."
Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "That's just awesome."
"Robby had been hunting with me for a few years. He was getting to be damn good, too. Winchester used him as bait to draw out a succubus we were hunting. We got her, but not before that bitch got her claws into my boy. You know what they do to their victims? Make'em horny as hell, yeah, but one touch turns 'em crazy if they're not... satisfied... pretty quickly. Because of John Winchester, I had to watch my boy die screaming."
"Look, I'm sorry about your son, really I am. I mean, what a way to go. But what does this have to do with me?"
"John Winchester took my son, so I'm taking his."
Radner tucked his pistol into the back of his pants and made his way over to a storage cabinet against the back wall. He opened it and dragged out a large object, depositing it inches from Dean's outstretched feet. "It took me several years to track down, and even longer to capture one alive, but it was worth it. This is gonna be fun."
The writhing bundle was wrapped in a thick blanket intricately bound with rope. Radner flipped out a pocketknife and sliced the rope in several places, then jumped back. He pulled his pistol out again, taking a stance against the opposite wall where he would have a good view of the evening's entertainment.
Dean worked more vigorously at his bindings. Whatever was in that bundle, and he had a pretty good idea, it probably meant very bad things for him.
The thing thrashed and twisted until it freed itself from its cotton cocoon. From the pile of blankets and ropes emerged a slightly disheveled but absolutely gorgeous woman. She scanned the room from her crouched position, snarling when she spotted Radner.
Radner nodded his chin toward Dean. "Brought you a little present. No hard feelings, right honey?"
The woman sneered at him before turning to Dean. She obviously liked what she saw. Her body language instantly changed from defensive to seductive as she crawled up Dean's denim-covered legs.
Dean squirmed, trying in vain to shake her off. His hands were almost free. If he could just distract her somehow. "Get off me, bitch. I like porn as much as any guy, but..."
A finger on his mouth and a "shhhh" were all it took to still his tirade as well as his frantic attack on his bindings. His heart raced at her touch. Her lips caressed his, setting his skin on fire and making him ache for more of her. He whimpered when she sat back. Holding his face in both hands, she studied him as he drank in the sight of her. Her thumbs rubbed tiny circles on his cheeks, thrumming his body with pleasure.
"You belong to me now, pet." Her sensual voice enveloped him, filling him with intense joy. He pushed himself forward for another kiss. Instead, she nuzzled her cheek against his and whispered, "Not yet, my pet. I have other business first."
She sprang up with inhuman speed and, screeching in fury, launched herself at Radner. His shot reverberated through the room, flinging the woman backward. She tumbled to the floor in a lifeless heap.
xXx
Sam searched each room of the abandoned building, his gun raised in constant alert. After much research and footwork, he'd narrowed his search down to this building. This had to be where Dean was being held.
A shot rang out further down the corridor, and Sam heard Dean's devastated cry. Sam raced down the passageway and slammed through the flimsy door. The old hunter turned on him immediately but Sam was faster. He shot the older man in the shoulder, sending him flying back into a pile of dusty boxes.
Sam quickly scanned the room, noting a body on the floor and his brother tied to a post. He advanced on the hunter, his still-smoking gun ready.
"You're too late," the older man said, chuckling. "I got what I came for."
Before Sam could stop him, the old hunter raised his own pistol to his head and fired. Damn! There was nothing Sam could do for him now. Too well trained to turn his back on an enemy, he checked the body for a pulse, moving on to check for the woman's as well. Finding none in either body, he continued to his brother's side.
Tears streamed down Dean's face as he sobbed openly, straining toward the woman's lifeless body. Sam had to yell his brother's name several times before Dean even looked up at him. When he did, the broken look on Dean's face caused Sam to brace himself against wrapping his brother in a huge hug. Instead, he addressed the bindings on Dean's wrists.
The rope practically fell off Dean's wrists at Sam's touch. Dean had been so close to freeing himself! Sam couldn't understand why he'd stopped.
Sam helped his brother to his feet, keeping a keen eye open for any sign of injuries. Other than a slight swelling of his jaw, Dean looked unharmed, but he was out of it enough that he allowed Sam to lead him from the room, an arm supportively draped around Dean's waist.
Dean's eyes remained on the woman's crumpled body until they crossed through the doorway. Even then, Dean kept looking behind him as if still trying to see her. However, by the time they'd reached the building exit, Dean was walking with more confidence. He shook off Sam's assistance with his typical, "get off me."
Dean insisted on driving his baby himself, maintaining that he was "fine", but Sam could see that Dean was anything but fine. He was agitated, distracted, and restless. He flipped through the radio, unsatisfied with any stations, and finally turned it off with a growl. He seemed to be in a state of perpetual motion, shifting constantly, running his hand over his face or his legs, or beating an erratic tempo on the steering wheel.
And despite Sam's gentle prodding, Dean refused to talk about what had happened in that abandoned building.
They were almost to the hotel when Dean grumbled, "You can stop with the staring, Sam."
"Dean, I'm just worried. You're not okay. I can't help you unless you tell me what happened."
"For the last time, I'm good. So lay off."
Sam huffed and turned to look out his side window instead. He refused to even glance at Dean again until they stopped in front of the hotel room.
Once inside, Dean stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Sam heard the sounds of running water and settled down for a long night with a touchy brother.
When Dean finally came out, clad only in jeans and his wet hair standing up in little spikes all over his head, Sam stopped clicking at his laptop and watched him, waiting. Dean sat on the edge of his bed, head bowed and hands clenched white-knuckled into the bedspread. He began without preamble, "It was a succubus."
"Who? The woman?"
Dean confirmed with a slight nod. "The guy was a hunter looking to get revenge on Dad."
"But Dad's dead."
"You think I don't know that, Sam!" Dean sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Guy didn't care. Said Dad killed his son."
"So, Dad's been dead for years and we're still cleaning up his messes? That's classic."
"Sammy, don't. Just... we don't have time for this right now, man. Please."
Sam took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, so we're dealing with a succubus. Did she... you know... before she was killed?"
"Would I still be here if she had? It was just a kiss, but that was enough. I feel like I'm coming out of my skin."
Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's choice of wording.
Dean glared at him. "Shut up. I'm serious. Nothing helps. Sammy, you gotta do something."
"Uh, okay, but there's not a whole lot of lore about how to treat the victims if the succubus doesn't... uh... complete the... uh... process. But I'll see what I can find."
"Good. Hurry, Sam."
xXx
Sam hung up his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Dean stopped pacing to stare at him. "Well, what did Bobby say?"
"That you're an idjit." Dean snorted and Sam continued. "He's never heard of this happening to anyone."
"Yeah? Well I know of two. Come on, he's gotta have something."
"Well, he does have one suggestion. He thinks you should try some good, old-fashioned sexual release."
"You mean..."
"We should hit a bar and go trolling for women."
Dean clapped his hands together. "Right! Finally, something I'm good at. Let's go, Sammy! Time's a-wastin'!"
xXx
They found a bar close to the hotel. Sam sat at a back table, watching Dean work the room. Or rather, trying to work the room. The succubus' kiss had definitely put Dean off his game. He was so worked up that he came across as desperate and creepy. If the situation hadn't been so life-and-death, Sam would have found it funny as hell.
Sam watched the scenario play out again and again. Dean would approach a woman, though without his usual grace and charm. At first, the women turned him down with a simple head-shake or verbal rejection, but as the night wore on and Dean became more frantic, their rejections became more direct. SLAP! Right on time, his latest target rebuffed his advances.
Still, Dean plowed on. What choice did he have, really?
"I wonder what's up with that guy?" The table of women next to Sam were talking loud enough to be overheard.
"No idea. He's cute enough. Can't imagine what problem those women have with him."
"Maybe he has special issues or something."
"Not sure I'd care. I think I'd do him anyway."
A chorus of agreement followed the comment.
Sam grinned and turned to chat with the ladies. "Actually, he's a great guy. He's just under a lot of pressure right now. Extenuating circumstances and all that."
"Oh? You know him?"
"I should. He's my brother."
The women eyed him up and down before scooting over to make room for him. One of them purred, "Why don't you join us?"
He had been chatting with the ladies for a several minutes when a ruckus broke out at the bar. Sam excused himself and elbowed his way through the crowd. As expected, Dean was at the center of the activity. His face and shirt dripped with what smelled like beer and blood trickled from his swelling nose. A pissed-off burly guy was being restrained by his buddies. Two very large bouncers were also heading their way through the crowd.
"We're leaving," Sam announced as he grabbed Dean's arm, dragging him out the door and into the passenger seat of the car.
Dean escaped to the bathroom again as soon as they entered the room. He came out some time later wrapped in a towel and smelling better, but his wild eyes betrayed his fear.
"How're you doing, Dean?"
Dean paced the small space in agitation. "How the hell do you think I'm doing, Sam? I'm going to die of sexual frustration. Me! It's ironic, really."
"Well, you might have bombed tonight, Dean, but I had a great time!"
"Oh, right, poke fun at the dying man. That's not cool, Sam."
"No, that's not what I meant." He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Grinning, Sam opened the door and escorted his guests in. "I meant, I found you some help. Triplets. Dean, meet Tanya, Teri, and Tisha. Ladies, this is my brother, Dean."
"Hello, ladies." Dean's smile would melt any heart. The girls giggled and blushed. Dean wasted no time ushering them further into the room and working his charm.
Sam cleared his throat to remind them that he was still in the room. "Well, I'll let you get started. I just need to grab my laptop. Dean, don't... just... oh, god, Dean! At least wait until I'm gone!" Sam snatched up his laptop and raced out the door, closing out sights and sounds he wished he could scrub from his brain.
One thing was certain: Sam would never look at white motel towels the same after this!
xXx
His laptop battery had died long ago, and still there was no sign of let-up from the room. He finally gave up keeping watch and tried to catch a few hours of shut-eye in the cramped confines of the Impala.
The sound of laughter woke Sam from his restless sleep. He cracked his eyes open to see the three ladies standing outside the threshold of the motel room, giggling over something Dean said. The sun shone brightly, which meant he'd been waiting in the car all night. No wonder he ached all over.
The girls finally turned to go, piling into a yellow mini Cooper. Dean, clad only in jeans, waved goodbye to them as they pulled out of the parking space beside Sam. Once they were gone, he made eye contact with his brother, winked, and gave him the wait there sign before disappearing back into the room.
Sam's joints creaked in harmony with the car door as he stepped out to stretch out his many kinks, then leaned his arms against the hood, waiting for Dean.
He didn't have long to wait. Dean soon came out fully clothed and carrying all their bags. "Let's hit it," he ordered as he put their bags in the trunk.
"But don't we need to..." Sam gestured toward the room.
"Nah. I got it."
"But..."
"Trust me, dude. You do not want to go back in there."
Sam didn't even want to think about how true that statement might be. Instead, he slid into his seat beside Dean. The Impala purred to life. Dean grinned appreciatively, gunning the engine and speeding out of the lot. He popped a Metallica tape into the deck, cranking the music up loud, and banged a rhythm on the steering wheel, singing off-key to the familiar tunes.
Sam watched for several miles. During a break between songs, he turned the music down. Dean didn't protest.
"You seem chipper," Sam commented. Dean smirked and shot him a sideways glance. Sam continued, "I guess it's safe to assume it worked."
"You could say that. Wanna know how many times it worked?" Dean's leer and twinkling eyes held mischief. Dean was definitely pleased with himself.
"No, thanks. I'd rather not."
"Your loss, Sammy. But triplets? Man, you are a genius! How'd you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Get them to agree?"
"I told them that some friends slipped you some Viagra as a joke and you were just trying to work off the effects. They were more than willing to assist."
Dean's hearty laugh resonated through the car. It had been far too long since Sam had seen his brother this relaxed. "Thanks, Sam. You did good."
Sam nodded acknowledgment. "So what now?"
"I say we drive for a couple of hours, then find somewhere to eat and a place to hole up. I'm starving. And, frankly, you smell. When's the last time you had a shower?"
"It's been a day or two, but I've been a little busy saving your ass, Dean."
Dean chuckled and turned the music back up. This time, Sam let it play. He curled up against the passenger window, lulled to sleep by the sounds of Metallica and his brother's singing.