The Future of Things to Come Pt 1
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: John/Bobby, John/Demon Dean, John/OMC
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: M/M sex, Rape (Demon Dean/John), violence, coerced sex, drug use, domestic abuse, dark themes.
Summary: Two years after Dean becomes a human/demon hybrid and starts aiding demons in taking over the world John blows up a building with Dean and his followers in it. John goes back to hunting thinking that he and Sam are safe, Dean is dead and the demon take over is finished. This story takes place six months later.
NOTE: There are no warnings for Character Death, no matter what it may look like.
The cemetery was dark and cold, fog rising off the ground where the cement walkways, heated by the afternoon sun, came in contact with the cooler night air. Silver light from the full moon cast shadows on the ground beside the darker gray of the marble grave markers. At the top of the hill was a small, marble clad building, the walls shimmery white in the moonlight. Three steps led up to the walkway around the building, parting a low brick wall that skirted the perimeters of the structure.
Bobby stood against the wall of the mausoleum shot gun resting across his forearm. Farther down the path he could just make out the shadowy form of John Winchester seated on one of the large granite grave marker blocks. John was carrying a smaller hand-gun and although Bobby couldn't see it he knew that John had the gun drawn. Still the distance between the two men made him uncomfortable.
The night sky was brightly lit enough that he should be able to see the creatures coming for John, but he hated to bet the other man's life on his night vision, and aim. With a grimace Bobby shifted from one foot to the other then froze when he saw John straighten his back and turn toward the woods bordering the graveyard. John shifted raising a hand in the air, and Bobby lifted the shot gun turning his head to one side and squeezing one eye shut.
From farther down the path came a sound, at first John thought it might be the groundsman. But the heavy footfalls seemed to skitter against the cement walkways with the sound of claws scraping the ground. As the path rose over the slight rise of the hill two shapes separated from the shadows. They were smaller than he or Bobby but walked upright like humans although John knew that they were not. The taller of the two forms would be the male and he aimed his .45 at the larger more bulky form. Sighing he waited knowing the hand-gun wouldn't do much good against the more heavily muscled male ghoul.
Suddenly the two figures halted their unsteady progress across the cemetery. The taller figure's head snapped up and he sniffed experimentally at the air. With a snarl the male ghoul pushed his mate behind him, and turned toward John. He sprang forward far quicker than either human had expected. John smiled.
Once the male was separate from the female ghoul John raised the .45 and snapped off one shot, not at the male, but at the female. The bullet hit her mid-chest and her tattered flesh split open spilling the remains of her guts out on the ground. The female shrieked, writhing and John fired a second shot into her head. The back of her skull blew out scattering blackened brain tissue on the ground.
Bobby leaned forward as the male ghoul turned briefly from John toward his mate; then hissing, made a dash for the man who had killed her. John didn't run merely ducked down. The sound of thunder exploded behind him, and John hugged the ground as the shot gun blast raked the air above his head.
The gun blast hit the male ghoul in the head taking off most of his face. His body staggered a few steps forward before he collapsed on the ground, limbs twitching. John stood up firing one shot into the remaining part of his head and the ghoul was still.
He and Bobby dragged the two corpses onto the cement walkway in an area sheltered from the street by hedges. John dumped the black bag he carried on the ground and pulled out a canister of salt. He tossed salt over the remains while Bobby upended a gas can splashing liquid on the two bodies. When he was satisfied that the bodies were well covered he stepped back waiting for John to gather up his bag then lit the bodies. They burned brightly, the dead flesh collapsing in on itself in a matter of moments.
With a grin Bobby lifted the gas can and trudged after John to the car parked farther down the road. They stowed the gear in the trunk, carefully placing the guns in the weapons box concealed under a false bottom.
It only took them a few minutes to reach the single lane of businesses that passed for greater metropolitan Myrtle, Texas. John motioned the other man over and Bobby pulled the car into the barn-like structure that was an all night drive-through liquor store, something that had amused John to no end.
"Sure adds new meaning to drunk driving," he hissed at Bobby under his breath. The older man waved him off and asked for a six pack and a bottle of Jim Beam. The clerk bagged the bottle and Bobby handed the beer and whiskey across the seat to John.
They got to the hotel a few minutes later. They had taken a room at the Motor-court Motel, a non-descript two storied building just below the on-ramp to Highway 75. Their room was on the second floor, John almost always took a second story room if he could, and Bobby hadn't been out in the field long enough to have an opinion so he just went with it.
Bobby laid salt lines while John showered bits and pieces of ghoul out of his hair and off his body. Once he was finished with the salt Bobby re-packed the canister and stripped out of his jeans and shirt.
The shower curtain was flimsy, see-through vinyl, and Bobby paused at the door long enough to admire John's slim, hard-muscled frame. Lifting the seat on the toilet Bobby peed then kicked his boxers through the bathroom door into the other room. He pushed the curtain back and stepped into the shower behind John. The other man grinned at him and shoved the bar of cheap soap over his shoulder. The shower was too small for two big men and they ended up bumping into each other more than anything else. Bobby tried shoving John against the wall, thrusting against him experimentally but the hot water cut out on them and the older man got a face full of cold spray. He sputtered as his dick protested the frigid rush of water and John collapsed against the tile laughing his ass off.
He shouldered his way past the other man and grabbed one of the fairly new towels on the rack. Rubbing his skin dry he grinned at Bobby.
"Just as well. With our luck we'd probably slip and fall, break our necks and the old biddy at the front desk would find us dead with your dick shoved up my ass."
Bobby snickered and grabbed his own towel.
"Yeah, I can just see old Miss Hendershot shaking a finger at Sam when he came to collect our personal effects…." He paused taking a deep breath then imitated an old lady. "Your father died with a dick up his ass, young man. I hope you learn something from that."
John giggled then cocked his head, considering that he might have had a tad bit more whisky than good sense strictly called for. He yawned. Bobby smacked him on the arm.
"Hey, Winchester, don't go falling asleep on me. Junior's perking right up."
"Junior's always up," John said glancing down.
Sure enough Bobby was at half-mast already and rising up for a full salute quickly.
"Jeeze, can't you keep that thing under control?"
"I haven't noticed you complaining any," Bobby snorted and John shrugged.
He hadn't been that well fucked for a while. John hit the bed with a bounce and crawled across the surface on his hands and knees. He rustled through the nightstand and pulled out a foil packet and a tube of KY-jelly, handing them to the other man. Bobby had been out of action, bedroom wise, for long enough that the condom was really only for show, and even though the box proclaimed them to be pre-lubricated John would sit down a lot better tomorrow with a little wetter entry.
Bobby wrestled John over onto his back, and John sighed. He preferred being entered from behind, lying on his back had too many bad memories attached to it, but he had never really told Bobby about his time with Dean, so he just let it go. Bobby liked the 'missionary position', liked kissing John when they fucked so John usually gave in.
Bobby took his time, sliding into the younger man nice and easy, gentling him with softly murmured words when he shook and trembled. Bobby knew that Dean had held his father prisoner and knew that John had resorted to blowing up a building to set himself free. And he had seen rape victims before so he could imagine what John was freeing himself from. He was always non-aggressive, letting John come to him, or at least, making sure John knew he could stop this at any time with no recriminations.
"Are you okay, John?" he whispered in the other man's ear.
John heaved a sigh and slid his hands down Bobby's back clasping the older man's butt, urging him in deeper. Bobby was more than happy to comply. He leaned down on his elbows then managed to pick up one of John's hands moving it to John's own dick. John jacked himself in rhythm to Bobby's gentle thrusting. Orgasm was soft and easy with none of the desperation of youth and neither man minded in the least.
The first time with them had been something of a shock to Bobby. John had shown up on his doorstep after driving all the way in from Vegas non-stop. John was wired on caffeine and maybe something else, and had all but collapsed on Bobby crying against the front of his shirt for almost an hour. Then Bobby had leaned forward and kissed John gently on -the forehead just offering comfort, John had titled his head back and Bobby kissed his lips. All he could clearly remember of that night was waking up the next morning with John wrapped tightly in his arms.
Bobby wasn't stupid, no matter what face he showed to the world. He had been watching the rise of Winchester, Inc. Had kept volumes of notes on demon possessions and appearances, and he knew that Dean Winchester had been possessed. The network had made it a point of putting Dean on their number one wanted list, but hunters had started dying in large numbers and they had hidden trying to keep a few alive to fight in the future. Somehow Bobby had escaped notice.
When the casino had blown up and burned, Bobby was also certain that John had managed to get free of Dean's influence and take action. The one thing that bothered him, the one thing he wasn't sure that John knew was that Dean's body had never been found. And Winchester, Inc. seemed to keep rolling along.
They had been hunting together for the past six months. It was easier for John with the money he had in the account set up by Dean. True John didn't have control of all of Winchester, Inc. but he had more than enough to suit his purposes. He and Bobby had just fallen into hunting together and neither man had any desire to give it up.
John sighed again, rolling over. Bobby spooned up behind him, and draped an arm around the younger man's waist. He yawned against the back of John's head, and John snuffled.
"No drooling, Singer."
"I'll make you a deal, John-boy. I won't drool if you won't snore."
"Yeah, yeah like that's gonna happen."
Bobby grinned and fell asleep to the sound of John's deep, even snoring.
The next morning John walked into Denny's across the street from the motel, and glanced around. Bobby was just storing the last of his gear in the Impala and told John to get them a table for breakfast. The place was fairly full and it looked like they would be eating at the bar. There were two young men sitting at one end beside the TV and one of them looked up at John and smiled as he walked past. The young man was maybe twenty, with neatly clipped honey blond hair, and green eyes. John had to stand still until he could get his breathing under control, even then his chest ached.
"Are you okay," the boy asked and his voice was smooth as honey and touched by a bit of a southern accent.
John huffed out a breath and nodded. The other young man quickly rose and pulled a barstool out guiding the older man into it.
"I hope Jamie didn't upset you," he said quietly giving the other man a frown. Jamie jerked his shoulder's back in a shrug and turned his palms up to the ceiling.
"What'd I do?"
The gesture was so familiar that John had to close his eyes. He barely heard the sound of shuffling feet and the stool beside him scraping across the floor. When he looked up Bobby was sitting beside him. He looked at the concerned faces of the two younger men.
"John just lost his son. Your friend looks like him, that's all."
They both relaxed visibly and Jamie settled back in his seat.
"I thought he might be offended because we…well, we're…"
"Queer," a voice from one of the tables jarred John out of his haze. He glared at the trucker sitting across from them. "They been sitting there holding hands all morning. It's disgusting."
"Why don't you just leave them alone?" John snarled.
The trucker sneered, and then drained his coffee cup.
"What's it to you?" he snapped.
Bobby knew what John was going to do, but he still wished he had more warning. Suddenly he found himself with an armful of warm, heavy weight and John's lips were pressed to his. Bobby tilted his head to give the other man more room to work. When John settled back into his own seat the entire room was hushed. The two boys at the bar were sitting there mouths open, stunned into silence.
Bobby looked behind him. The trucker's face was florid, his mouth a dark O of surprise and disgust. He rose from his seat and Bobby slid his stool back rising to his full height. John didn't even bother standing up, just shifted his shoulders back and glared at the guy. Suddenly he didn't seem so sure of himself. These were not two slender, soft looking boys. These men actually looked like they could hurt a man. Snatching his check off the table he stormed to the register.
The waitress was flustered but she picked up the coffee mugs on the bar and filled them before sitting them in front of the two older men. They ordered their breakfast and ignored the stares from the other patrons. Jamie sighed then offered Bobby a tentative smile.
"You didn't have to do that," he said smiling. "It was great, but you didn't have to pretend."
Bobby worked his fingers into the scruff of John's neck jerking the other man into a quick one-armed hug.
"Who said we were pretending."
John ate his eggs skimming through the morning paper looking at headlines. He had heard a news report on the television last night about Winchester's Golden Devil Casino re-opening, and that bothered him. He knew that the building hadn't been all that damaged. He had gone back after he had gotten out of the hospital and went through the wreckage. He wondered who was actually running the company, although John had been a share-holder and on the board of directors he had never actually participated in running the corporation. Dean had his proxy and voted his shares, John really had never given a damn about the business, and to be truthful most of the time he had been too drugged up to even be capable of doing so. John folded the paper and shoved it away, frustrated. Bobby came back from the bathroom and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Ready to go?"
John nodded picking up the check. They stopped at the register then wandered out to the parking lot and the old Impala. He handed the other man the keys and slid into the passenger seat. Bobby grinned and cranked the engine up. They hit the freeway and turned the car to the west. In two days they would be in Palo Alto going to visit Sam. He had called John a few nights ago and wanted his father and Bobby to come visit, saying only that he had something important to tell them.
Bobby grinned.
"Johnny, you know Sam is gonna marry that girl, don't you."
Nodding John leaned back and closed his eyes.
"She's a looker, Jessica is. I think she's good for Sammy. He looked so happy the last time we were out there."
Bobby nodded.
"Well, until they walked in the bedroom without knocking."
Grimacing John chuckled, a low dirty sound that sent a shiver down the older man's spine.
"Yeah, I guess they learned a lesson about that."
"Still he and Jess took it well enough," Bobby said smiling at the other man. John flushed.
"I think that after what happened with…in Vegas. I think he was happy that I found someone willing to put up with me."
"I'm more than willing to put up with you, Johnny."
John looked out the side window, swallowing. He slid his hand over the seat until his fingers laced with Bobby's. They didn't do public displays of affection, weren't often openly emotional with each other, but John was less wary than he had been and Bobby was willing to push him along a little in that regard.
They were sitting in a bar in Kingman, Arizona when John looked up at the television set on a shelf behind the bar. A casual, throw-away blurb on the evening news caught his attention and he waved the bar tender over.
"Hey, can you turn that up a little?" he asked.
The bar tender, a girl no older than Sam, shrugged and picked up the remote thumbing up the volume. John smiled at her and she flushed.
"You want another," she asked cocking her head at the glass in his hand.
John drained the last of the whisky and cola and nodded.
"Coming right up."
She shuffled to the bar back pulling out a bottle of amber liquid. Not the cheap stuff that her boss usually made her pawn off on the customers. But Jim Beam, the bottle he usually kept for himself. She mixed the drink and set a coaster down on the satiny gleaming wood surface of the bar.
She sighed, for a guy his age he was damn good looking and a good tipper too. She had briefly entertained the idea of trying to pick him up, until the older guy he was with had clandestinely squeezed his butt-cheek before they sat down. Well hell, wasn't that always her luck. So she had just contented herself with watching the way the wash-softened denim of his jeans wrapped around the curve of his ass when he bent over the pool table.
The older guy wasn't her type but he was kind, good-natured in a bluff kind of way. His voice held a tinge of sun-drenched corn fields in it, and his eyes sparkled, albeit, mostly when he looked at the younger man. And she had shivered at the way he whispered 'John' in the other man's ear when he had leaned over his shoulder, a little closer than was strictly necessary, to follow the line of his shot.
Seated on the cane-backed stool at the end of the bar John watched the news hoping to catch a bit more information on the lead-in story. He wasn't disappointed. The camera cut to a young man standing in a bare, dusty patch of land with a few scrubby pine trees in the background. John sighed; it looked like half the state of Arizona.
"Here on the outskirts of Hadley, a small community just fifteen miles north of Kingman a grizzly scene unfolds."
The camera panned to the right and John could just make out the faint rust colored stains on the darker yellow-brown soil.
"This morning four college students were found dead, here at a vacant lot at the intersection of two simple country roads."
John stiffened; cross-roads meant deals with demons. Maybe some kind of a deal that had gone sour. He strained to hear the broadcast above the background noise of the crowded room. The news reporter turned to the camera as the picture shifted from the sandy ground to the young man's solemn face.
"The police don't have a clue as to why these four young people are dead, and no leads on who killed them either. All that the shaken residents of this little out of the way settlement know for sure is that four people were murdered in their midst."
John stopped listening as the program cut back to the newsroom. When Bobby settled onto a stool beside him John offered him a grim smile.
"Looks like we're going to make a little side trip. Some backwater little berg called Hadley, about fifteen miles to the north."
"Something catch your attention, Johnny?"
"Four people, all college students, found murdered at a cross-roads."
"How'd they die?" Bobby asked wrapping his fingers around the beer bottle in front of him and taking a swig. John shrugged.
"Didn't say but there was a lot of blood on the ground. And hellhounds are known for going for the throat."
Bobby nodded. "So you think somebody made a deal with a demon and it went south?"
John finished off his drink, and grasped the other man by the knee pushing himself up and off the barstool.
"I think it's worth taking a look at. Sam's not expecting us anyway. It won't matter if we show up tomorrow or a few days from now."
It was seven o'clock and the sun was beginning to go down. They decided to spend the night in Kingman and go scout out the scene of the murder at first light. John would be better able to look for tracks in full light. They weren't even sure that anything supernatural was involved.
The first hotel that they came to was a small, older looking building that might have once been a boarding house in the old west. The wooden structure certainly looked old enough. The front desk was in what seemed to be a living room or parlor and through an open doorway John could see a small dining room with several large tables covered in white cloths. A young girl was moving from table to table placing small bowls of flowers in the center. It seemed oddly homey.
An elderly lady was sitting behind the desk on a high backed stool, patiently checking entries in an old fashioned ledger. She glanced up at the two men offering them a tight smile. John hesitated but Bobby strode up to the desk.
"We'd like a room for the night," he said, and she looked both men up and down. Finally, she pushed the ledger over to him.
"Does your friend want a room as well?" she asked primly and John was sure he didn't like her tone of voice. Bobby shook his head.
"We just need the one room."
Now the older lady looked miffed.
"But the rooms only have one bed in them," she added.
Bobby glanced at her from under the brim of his cap and grinned.
"We only need one bed."
Her eyes snapped open and John was sure that she was going to refuse to give them the room, but apparently the thought that they might complain or the need for business won out and she handed Bobby a key.
"Check out is at 11:00 am if you stay after that you will be charged for another night. It's $52.50 taxes included."
Bobby fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed her a credit card. She looked at John as if he was a gold digger or maybe a whore. He felt laughter bubbling up inside him, and clamped his lips together to keep it in. After she had run Bobby's credit card and given him the receipt John slipped his arm through the other man's and hissed in a stage whisper.
"If you want anything kinky, it'll cost more."
To his credit the older man didn't blink. He glanced from John's amused face to the washed-out prickly faced old lady and kept walking to the elevator. As the door slid closed Bobby could see her talking animatedly in hushed tones to several people.
He sighed.
"John, you know the old biddy is telling everybody and his brother that they've got an honest to God hooker in the place."
"How come people never assume that you're the whore? Why always me?"
"Well, look at our ages."
"I'm only four years younger than you," John said with a frown.
Bobby turned patting him on the arm.
"You were only four years younger, but after Dean did whatever he did, it knocked off about a dozen years. And he kept doing it, too. So right now Johnny, you're about sixteen years younger, so I guess that makes me your sugar daddy."
John rolled his eyes. Pushing open the door he dumped his duffle bag onto the dresser. The room was actually pretty nice; the carpets looked new and were spotlessly clean. There was a small table and four chairs arranged in a corner and the bed was large, draped in a heavy comforter and thick pillows. He sat down at the table and unlaced his boots.
Bobby was already stripping down for a shower, stuffing his dirty clothes in a mesh bag, and pulling clean underwear out of his own duffle. He looked over at John wagging his eyebrows.
"You going to join me?"
John cast him a sideways glance.
"I don't know. You always end up trying to screw me and we flounder around like a couple of fools before we realize that neither one of us has good enough reflexes to fuck in the shower."
Bobby's voice carried out of the bathroom.
"Hey, the tub's pretty big and there's bubble bath."
John blinked again.
"Bubble bath?"
"Yeah, come on Johnny. I'm filling the tub. You can ride me."
"Okay, okay but don't get pissed if I drown your ass."
They found out it took some finagling to get two six foot plus men into one bathtub but it worked out okay in the end, and no one ended up drowned. Afterwards John climbed into bed dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bobby rolled under the blankets and rifled through the nightstand for the remote.
The late news was on, and they lay back propped on pillows watching for any more information on the case in Hadley. When nothing new was forthcoming Bobby clicked off the TV rolled over draping an arm around John's waist. John fell asleep to the soft, murmuring breath against his neck.
He wasn't sure what woke him, but John sat up. Bobby was curled on one side, snoring softly and John rubbed his eyes. There it was again, the sound of feet whispering over the carpets in the hallway. John slipped the Glock he had laid beside the bed off the nightstand and rose silently.
He reached down for Bobby's discarded jeans and fished the door key out of his pocket. Carefully he stepped over the salt line just inside the door, and pulled it closed behind him. There was no one in the hallway and he wondered if it was just some late arriving guest going to another room on the floor when an emergency exit, at the far end of the hall, slid closed.
John pressed the gun against his thigh and quickly crossed the hall. Keeping to the shadows on the side of the corridor he crab-walked up to the door, then pressed his hand against the cold metal reinforced frame. It was a fire door, thick, paint-coated metal, and it still vibrated faintly with the force of its closing. Something big or strong had swung that door closed on its heavy steel hinges.
John looked down at the bar across the door. This was an emergency exit, made to lock behind whoever left through the door. If he went into the stairwell he would be trapped, unable to get back into the corridor without going downstairs to the parking lot, and back in through the night exit. John pushed at the door, pausing again. He could clearly make out footfalls on the stairs, going down and out into the parking lot.
He was armed, but he was alone and barefoot he would be vulnerable. The footsteps seemed to pause, as if whoever or whatever was in the stairwell was waiting for John to make a decision. Good sense finally won out and John backed through the door letting it fall close behind him.
In the stairway stood a tall, burly looking man, hands grasping the railing, head tipped upward. If John had gone further into the landing he would have gotten a good look at the man's face. It was a face that he would have remembered. The man frowned as John disappeared back the way he had come. He lifted a cell phone.
"Sorry, boss. It's a no go. He didn't follow me out into the stairs. I'll have to follow him tomorrow, and catch them at the site."
Kyle folded his phone shut, patting the gun under his shoulder and then turned toward the door leading out into the lot. The bright orange of the halogen street light cast a sickly glow over his pasty features and flashed on his amber eyes.
TBC